This is a dialog heavy chapter. Don't expect any action.

"Text" = Speech

"Text" = Hand Signs or Sign Language

'Text' = Thoughts

Text = Onomatopoeia


Chapter 13: Recovery

October 31st, 2568

21:13 Local Time

Night Club, New Sydney, Minerva, Lambda Rho System

"For a Spartan, you pull off the gun for hire look quite well." Andrew was dragged from his thoughts as the reporter sauntered over to him. As with most people in the club, she was dressed up for the holiday. Her mid-20th century journalist get up was a far cry from the typical costumes out there.

"What are you talking about? These are my casual clothes."

"Really? You just casually wear a leather jacket, cargo pants and titanium toed boots?"

"Yeah. This is my style. Care for a drink or are you gonna berate me all night?"

"I suppose I'll join you. So, where's the rest of your team? I'd have thought they'd be here with you." The reporter took a seat next to Andrew at the bar. She noticed that sitting down, he didn't appear as imposing as he was the first time they met and much less so than in his armor.

"Thermer and King both have family to talk to. We don't get many chances to phone home. They take every second of that time they can get."

"What about you and Sam?"

"Sam? I dunno. His parents are gone, but I'm not sure if peanut boy has people elsewhere. Me, I ain't got anyone."

"Peanut Boy?"

"Yeah, Sam's allergic to peanuts. It's really fun to fuck with him and hit him with an EpiPen."

"That sounds really cruel."

"That's our dysfunctional little family." Andrew paused and took a swig from the bottle of whiskey in front of him. "Lemme guess, you're a classier kinda cocktail? Something like a gin martini or a Manhattan?"

"You seem to have me all figured out, don't you?"

"Not yet. I haven't figured out why you seem to pop up wherever I am."

"Isn't it obvious? Phoenix seems to be where the story is at. The whole city is cheering your team on. Which leads me to the question, where have you been for the last month?"

"Classified."

"Doing what?"

"Top secret."

"Not even gonna give me a hint?"

"I'd have to kill you."

"Careful, you might cut yourself on that edge Spartan."

"Alright reporter, I was in a place that does not exist. I was questioning a man who does not exist. After getting answers to non-existent questions, I ended the man's non-existence. Happy?"

"The name is Alex, and no. I'm not."

"Name's Andrew, and I figured. That's all you're gonna get, though." Andrew passed her drink to her and felt a buzz on his wrist. Checking his Chatter the Spartan found a single message: "Let's play a game, Spartan."

"What's that," Alex inquired.

"It's my Chatter. Y'know, ChatterNet."

"I know what a Chatter is, Andrew. What I want to know is the message."

"Work related."

"Secret?"

"Yes."

"You're no fun," she jokingly pouted. Her train of thought jumped tracks as she remembered a question that had been rattling in her mind for a month. "During the parade fight there's a clear split in the way you fight. What happened back there? Why go from playing cat and mouse to hand to hand?"

"Kill the recording."

"Huh?"

"If you want to know, kill the recorder. This never sees public eyes or ears. Copy?" Alex put a hand in her purse and shut off her COM pad.

"Happy?"

"Yes. As you already know, I'm a Spartan-III. We were designed to be easily replaced wads of rage and sexual frustration. There were three companies; Alpha, Beta and Gamma. That's why our tags have a letter before the numbers. Any radio chatter involving me would be Sierra Gamma One Niner Niner. Gammas were given a couple extra augments that induce a state of bipolar rage when under extreme duress. You saw me playing with my target, forcing him to panic. I wanted to open his guard up enough to take him out with as little collateral as possible. He shattered my visor and nearly cost me an eye. That pushed me over the edge. From there I went to my most base survival instincts, kill or be killed. At that point I don't think and often times have difficulty distinguishing friendly from foe."

"So that's why you had that stare."

"Trembling hands too. You probably saw me use some sort of syringe after the fight. Those are a set of chems to counteract the bipolar integration. It gets worse over time and the dosage is constantly increasing. Eventually it'll force me into retirement. One way or another."

"Don't they remove augments when you guys retire," Alex threw her hands out wide. Her confusion was painted on her face. Andrew was quick bring her hands back down on the bartop and start speaking gibberish. Planets he'd 'visited,' things he'd claimed to do, et cetera. It lasted forty-five seconds.

"Please try not to look too excited. ONI is watching. They won't listen unless you look like an issue. To answer your question, this can't be undone."

"Excuse me ma'am is this guy giving you trouble. I'd gladly take out this trash for you," a third party cut in. His voice had a familiar Slavic accent to it. Was it the same crew from last winter? The man put a hand on Andrew's shoulder. Alex saw Andrew's eyes narrow.

"No, no, just a misunderstanding. Really, everything is fine."

"You best remove that hand before I do it for you." The man tightened his grip. It felt like the recoil of his battle rifle; slight pressure. The Spartan stood up and faced the smaller man. Black pants, white shirt, black sports jacket. Yup, it was them. Standing at 205.7cm he towered over the disruptive man.

"Wait … you're the guy who fucked with us last winter. Didn't you learn your lesson back then?"

"Last I checked, three of your boys ended up in the ER and I got off with self-defense."

"You won't be getting off with anything this time." The man's knife had barely cleared his pocket before Andrew kicked him across the dance floor and into the lounges. Andrew returned to his seat and picked up his bottle.

"You pulled that didn't you?"

"Yyyyup."

"He's going to get friends isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"You have a gun don't you."

"Yes ma'am."

"This is going to be fun."

Two minutes later the agitated man returned, Andrew's boot print covering a large portion of his chest. A few other men accompanied him. "Come with us, now."

"Oh, I like these odds. Chances are I disable three of you before anyone else gets a shot off."

"Boss wants to speak. No gunfight today cowboy. Lady comes too. Let's go." The men led Andrew and Alex to a VIP lounge. A group of men stopped them and patted Andrew down. He held a hand out for the Spartan's weapons.

"Not happening. Your boss wants to talk, we'll talk, but I'm keeping my weapons." The man looked back towards a woman in the lounge. She nodded and the bodyguard stepped aside. Andrew and Alex stepped in. The woman looked the Spartan up and down. She seemed to set aside whatever disbelief she previously held.

"You are a troublesome man. You know this, yes?"

"Usually I'm told that I'm dangerous."

"What makes you think that you can bring harm to my men in my city? Last I checked, mercenaries like you come through me for work."

"Your men seem to like starting shit with me. I just wanna have a peaceful drink. Also, what makes you people think I'm a merc? Are you people willfully ignorant of my patch?"

"You'll watch your tongue in my presence. If you wouldn't mind, please go ahead and tell us what that patch is supposed to mean."

"UNSC, Spartan Branch, Fort Keyes Division, Fireteam Phoenix. Spartan Andrew-G199. I'll speak however I damn-well please, ma'am."

"You're joking right?"

"Why the hell would I lie about my identity?" She waved off Andrew's question and looked around at her men. Her expression deadpanned.

"You idiots are holding a grudge against a local hero? You've actively attacked a Spartan! You twits are going to bring the whole military down on us!"

"Look, I don't care about your operation. In fact, you're more useful to me than you realize."

"How is that?"

"You're the underground right? You have a vast intelligence network that I need access to."

"Why would we work with you?"

"The UNSC is tearing this city apart looking for any sign of the Red Hand. That makes your work very difficult doesn't it? I need intel on the Red Hand in this system. I can make them ease up on you guys in exchange for whatever you've got."

"How can I trust you? Just minutes ago, you were more than happy to get in a shootout with my men."

"Look, I've done business like this on at least six other planets in the last fifteen years. All of my former contacts are still kicking, and if they're not, I wasn't the one to kill them. If I intend on taking you down, I'll tell you."

"So, you think that just easing interference will be enough for us to risk our necks?"

"I know that your informants are independent from your organization. You take on no risk. Their safety is guaranteed and I get the intel I need to track down the bastard that ordered the deaths of civilians."

"You make a compelling argument, but what about the people inside your organization that helped the attack happen?"

"Shallow grave in the middle of nowhere. Took care of that roach nine days ago. Here's my contact." Alex looked at Andrew in shock as he handed the woman a slip. That was what he meant earlier? That he killed a man for what happened. She was in over her head.

"Deal. Nothing spoken here leaves this room. You got that, reporter?" Alex nodded slowly. She was still processing what was happening here. Andrew was definitely not the hero she thought he was. Shady dealings with criminals and murder? This wasn't the story she was hoping to find.


November 4th, 2568

13:00 Local Time

Fort Keyes

"Boss, why haven't we gotten any action?"

"Maybe because you keep scaring the women off, Sam."

"Very funny. Seriously though, we've been back almost two weeks and nothing. We aren't even allowed to train with our armor."

"Well, wouldn't be fair to let us train without Andrew. His gear was pretty fucked up after New Sydney."

"It should be fixed by now. Besides we were just told to report to armor bay. Speaking of the big guy, where is he?"

"I thought you'd know Boss?"

"Last I knew he was at a meeting with the Commander and CINCONI."

"Thanks King. Glad to know. Has he said anything about the investigation?"

"Something about local contacts and a message. He wants to secure the investigation for us before he gives all the details on it. I don't blame him. We've been burned by the office a few too many times."

"I'm surprised Osman went along with his crazy plan. Speaking of, I think we owe him an apology."

"Why's that Sam?"

"You know why, Boss. We made a job that's hard for him that much harder. We questioned his methods and motives. Made him doubt us and himself. He crossed that line for us."

"Don't get all sappy on us now peanut boy."

"Go fuck yourself, King."

"That's better."

"Clamp it, we're here." The three entered the armor bay and found that Andrew had beaten them to it. His COM-Pad poked up out of his cargo pocket. Clearly, he'd come right after the meeting. He waved to the others as they came in. One of the armor techs motioned for them to hurry up.

"About damn time you show up. I'll keep this short. We hate you four. You constantly come in with damage we can't explain. Phoenix Two, you let a Sangheili shatter your visor. Several plates took significant heat damage and actually melted. Phoenix Actual, there were micro cracks in your armor from concussive shock. You can't just weld that together; the whole plate has to be replaced. This armor costs about as much as a Paris Class Frigate and you assholes get in fights that force us to replace more armor than we should.

"That's why we partnered with Materials Group to make supplemental armor patterns based on your combat data. Thermer, over here we've got your armor. You and King use mix matched suits so we had some issues with yours. Your Spectre pattern supplementals feature a full COM Suite upgrade, CBRN filters and up armored plating on the helmet. Your chest has been up armored to prevent concussive damage along with the greaves. You've been given more pouches for extended field work. You'll be able to tap your team's sensor array and provide real time updates to their HUD. Just general upgrades really.

"Spartan-G199, for you, we have the Bothrops pattern. You're a glass cannon. This heavily reinforces the chest, left shoulder, right forearm and greaves. You can carry more ammo than you will ever need. Your helmet features CBRN filters and an auxiliary sensor paired to your ARTEMIS and the net system you've got. We have also disabled the upper limit to your force multipliers; while the upper limit saves Spartan-IVs from hurting themselves, it restricts you. You'll be able to take more damage before sustaining injury, set up a larger surveillance net for your team and provide heavy suppression.

"King, you're a pain in the ass. Your unique role as squad automatic and stealth infiltration is an oddity. We've retained the active camouflage module. The collapsible shield will be here when the op calls for it. Otherwise we've given you an enhanced sensor suite to compliment Andrew's system. The Nightfall helmet already features world class filtration systems so no added CBRN. Your chest is a lighter version of Andrew's upgrades, more focused on carry capacity than heavy defense. Your shoulders have been beefed up but don't restrict your movement. Same can be said of your gauntlets and greaves. It's also been given a prototype coating to help absorb radar and prevent detection. The Trailblazer pattern is made for your unique role.

"Sam, you like to hang back and take out targets from an angle no one expected. Your Longbow pattern will provide you with everything you need for this. A new sensor package has been installed on your helmet and can help take environmental factors off your mind. No need for a spotter with this. The CBRN filters will keep you safe in all combat zones. Chest upgrades eliminate weak points, but keep weight and obstruction to a minimum. Your left arm will be outfitted with armored panels. You have more mag pouches to keep you going. A small grapnel launcher will be provided to help get up to higher positions. This is all about keeping you mobile, protected and lethal."

Andrew walked up to his armor. Looking over it he could easily see the replacement parts. Their bright, untarnished paint stood out against the rest of the worn armor. He was glad to see the right shoulder remained intact. Having to paint his emblem all over again would have been annoying. The new collar was much larger than he expected. All in all, the armor was bulky, asymmetric and forbidding; a far cry from the slim hunters it was named after. "This plate on my elbows, it'll slide out of my way, right?"

"Yes, it will. All of this can be field stripped in case it becomes too damaged. Supplementals are easy to replace, the main armor is a whole other story."

"What the hell happened to my etching?!" The technician walked over to King and power cycled his armor. The visor's backlights flickered to life revealing a photoreactive film. The Sangheili's skull became clear as day.

"Light sensitive film over the visor allows you to maintain structural integrity while looking like a psychopath. We also had to create decals to replace the etchings of that poem on it. We wanted to keep your personal touches. The stealth coating required creative solutions. If you want to add anything, you'll have to pass it by us first."

Sam chose to test fit the armor for his left arm. The pieces clicked into place perfectly. Stretching his arm, he could tell it wouldn't obstruct his shot. It was light for combat rated armor, but it seemed to shift his center of balance slightly. It felt right, like it compensated for the weight the prosthetic lacked. The quick release buckles made it easy to shed them too. He didn't really care about the other upgrades; he learned his lesson back on Trost. The only thing that stood out was the wolf skull painted on his right shoulder. "Can't I just keep these plates on me at all times? They're weighted just right, it feels natural."

"No can do. You can get weighted covers for everyday use if you talk to the folks in the Med Wing."

"Can you at least get me the weight of each part? I hate how light this thing feels."

"That I can do." The technician watched as Thermer scrutinized his new gear. The hard lines of his supplemental plating contrasted with the smooth Stalker class armor in an oddly beautiful way. The small pinup painted on his shoulders was a bit of a surprise.

"Yeah, we took a look at your dossiers to give you each identifiable markings. Andrew and King were easy. They provided them for us. Yes, we did paint over your snake, made it a bit more permanent. Same goes for your tag and tallies up on the helmet, Andrew," the Spartan-III wasn't paying much attention anymore. The message on his Chatter had him preoccupied. An address, time and date from one "Mrs. J."


November 8th, 2568

21:00 Local Time

New Sydney, Minerva

"Mrs. J I presume," Andrew asked from his seat. The diner was small, secluded and in a district Andrew didn't frequent for a reason. Even through the jacket she wore Andrew could tell Mrs. J was more than an informant. She had an athletic build on par with any female marine, and carried herself in a manner that told him everything he needed to know.

"When our mutual friend said you were large I wasn't expecting someone the size of a Spartan. You would be," She asked as he sat down across from Andrew.

"You can call me Bothrops. No need to muddy this with our real names. Now, let's set aside the foreplay. We both have people outside ready to make a move if need be. Shall we call them off," Andrew smirked through his question. J nodded, they simultaneously put a hand sign up to the window. Across the street Sam eased his finger away from the trigger guard. 'Whatever you say big guy.'

"So Bothrops, what exactly can I provide you with?"

"I need intel on Red Hand movements in this system. Where they hide their toys, where they hide their people, meeting places."

"Planning on joining the cause?"

"I heard that, put the gun on the table," J placed her weapon in front of her, a handgun the Spartan didn't recognize.

"Very observant, that doesn't answer my question."

"I plan on poisoning the movement. Break it down, piece by piece. So, we in business?"

"You and I, Spartan, have a deal. Don't act surprised, only a Spartan would've heard that."

"What's the price?"

"Five hundred up front, two thousand for every transaction we make going forward."

"I expected more to be honest. What makes your intel so cheap?"

"Harder to track me if I'm not banking massive paydays."

"Fair enough," Andrew tapped a few things into his Chatter then handed over a plastic card. "Twenty-five hundred. Consider it a token of good faith."

"Physical transfer, even better. I appreciate your business, Bothrops, you'll be seeing more of me in the future."


November 14th, 2568

12:00 Local Time

Fort Keyes, Minerva

It had been a while since Fireteam Phoenix last stood in the Commander's office. McKnight wanted to know the progress of the investigation before Andrew reported to O.N.I.

"What have you been able to come up with Andrew?"

"Well, I was able to draw up a deal with the Slavic underground in New Sydney. You've already heard that I've made the Army slow up with their activities in the city. This has gotten me access to their network of informants. I've already made a deal with one. Mrs. J has provided a set of coordinates, claiming a weapon cache can be located. Satellite feeds cross referenced with local history tells us that the Red Hand is using an old Nomolos Mining town to hide the cache. It'll likely be in one of the residency buildings. If we're going to hit it, we'll need to approach it from the desert. No dropship, no MJOLNIR."

"Why not bomb it from the air?"

"Too obvious, they'll know we were on to them. They'll start targeting anyone sifting through the slush. I don't want to lose my network before I have it fully operational. Small team goes in, detonates the cache and gets out of there as fast as possible. Maximum damage minimal casualty rate."

"Minimal?"

"Make it look like an accident. You're thinking the way Spartan Branch wants you to. We have overwhelming firepower. Why not use it? Look at what happened in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. United States and Russian involvement created insurgencies in the Middle East. For over 40 years the US fought these groups with little success and high casualty rates despite having superior tech and training. We need to think and fight like the people we're fighting. Deliver fatal strikes, but stay hidden and mobile."

"Is this experience or the Office talking?"

"Both, we all know what I had to do in Operation OUTCAST. The insurrection there kept attacks small and hard to predict, but each one hurt the local garrison. VIPER'S FANG failed because we were too large a force to hide on entry. We can't afford to screw this up."

"What do you think Spartan Thermer?"

"I agree with Andrew. As a former ODST, I have my fair share of combat behind enemy lines. You don't want to make your presence known until you've hurt them."

"Very well. Andrew, I want a full write up. All intel you have. Thermer, help him come up with a plan of attack. Sam, King, try to figure out how you two can provide support. Sylas will be staying here for this op. Dismissed."

"Yes ma'am," the team spoke in unison and headed off to the barracks.


November 19th, 2568

17:00 Local Time

Fort Keyes, Minerva

"How much longer do you think they'll take drawing up this plan?"

"I don't know, Sam," King replied through a mouth full of food. The two sat at the usual table their team occupied, though it felt rather empty without the others. Andrew and Thermer had been working day in and day out to get the plan done.

"At least we know our roles to some capacity. I guess that's a silver lining."

"Are you gonna eat or not, Sam? If you aren't can I have your tray? This is actually edible."

"Really? Is that all you're focused on?"

"Ain't any sense in rackin' our brains over something like this. They'll let us in when they need to."

"Let you in on what," another Spartan asked as she walked by.

"Above your pay-grade lady," Sam remarked flippantly.

"I wasn't asking you, Johnny-One-Arm," Sam stood up and marched over to her. He almost got a word out before a hand planted itself on his chest and pushed him back.

"As my teammate said, above your pay-grade. Now, unless you want to end up in the brig under suspicion of espionage, I recommend you sit your ass down and mind your damn business," Andrew wasn't up for any antics today. The last four days going over his intel and scrapping plan after plan with Thermer had seriously drained the two.

"The hell was that for Andrew? I can handle myself!"

"Sam, eat your damn food. We need to head to cartography after we're all done and go over the plan. It's fucking dumb as hell but it may just work."

"Wait. You guys have a working plan," King asked.

"Sort of, you'll see," Thermer replied. The team continued to eat in relative silence. The food wasn't too bad. It was hard to fuck up meat, mashed potatoes and gravy, but the military wasn't exactly known for five-star dining. The trip to cartography was a little more energetic, Sam wanted details and Andrew couldn't help but fuck with the sniper. Once they acquired a map room far enough from prying eyes Andrew synced a data-pad to the holotable.

"Operation: SUCKERPUNCH is going to take place next month. You can see our target location here, a small mining village located in the inland desert. We have three possible objectives here," three buildings on the map lit up red. The rest sunk into the terrain, leaving only their outlines. "The two housing complexes and garage are our objectives. Can either of you tell me why the housing complexes?"

Sam and King looked over the map briefly and whispered to each other. King spoke what they believed, "Rubble around the Southern complex indicates that they've been stripped down to the studs. That confirms Andrew's suspicion about them being used as store houses. The rubble around there indicates that they're attempting to prevent something from puncturing the wall. That's the weapons cache. The Eastern complex is likely their rations and non-food supplies. The garage is obvious, can't have them chasing us after we hit them."

Thermer nodded and zoomed the map out to show the surrounding area. A ridge overlooking the town lit up in a similar manner to the objectives in the town. "This is our staging area. After insertion we'll make our way to this ridge and spend two days observing the target. We'll mobilize at night and strike while most of them are asleep. We'll enter through the least guarded area in order to minimize hostile casualties. We are here to disrupt and destroy, not to exterminate. I'll let Andrew handle exactly how insertion will be handled."

"Thank you Thermer," Andrew tapped a few commands out on the data-pad causing the map to expand once again. The staging area was fairly small now, swallowed by the large inland desert that covered much of Minerva's largest continent.

"Gentlemen, this is where it gets stupid. We will be inserting under the cover of darkness. So, is anyone here familiar with skysurfing," Andrew's voice carried a tone of amusement as he looked around. Two points on the map lit up. A line connected all marked points, plotting their course through the desert.

"Here's the idea. We'll be pulling a HALO jump with a twist. The first point is our LZ. From here we travel to the second point where a transport hog will be waiting with our gear."

"That's half a klick between our LZ and the vehicle. That's a lot of wasted time," Sam interjected.

"That's where the skysurfing comes in. Skysurfing is a HALO jump while equipped with a specialized board. This board is used to perform aerial stunts and to smooth out landing. Our boards will allow us to dunesurf after making landfall. The topography shows that it's mostly downhill from our LZ to the hog."

"So, we're dropping like a bunch of civilians?"

"Yes."

"This is stupid," King voiced.

"Yup. We'll be running practice jumps this month. We'll need to be able to ditch our chutes almost immediately after touching down in order to maintain speed and get to the hog. I'll be turning the plan in tomorrow. We'll see what the commander and O.N.I think then."


November 23rd, 2568

12:00 Local Time

Fort Keyes, Minerva

Apart from the lights at each armor rig, the armor bay was fairly dark. The team figured it was to give the interviews a more intense backdrop than the machinery really provided. Why the team was called in for this when they had more important matters was beyond them, but orders are orders.

Thermer

"So, tell us a bit about yourself Spartan. Who's the man under the black and white armor?"

"I'm Spartan Jesse Thermer, the current leader of Fireteam Phoenix."

"Where did you come from and what led you here?"

"I was born on Reach. After my education I felt that the service would give me a sense of purpose. I was right. I started in the Marines, spent some time as an MP on Earth before becoming an ODST Scout Sniper. It wouldn't be until much more recently in my career that I became a Spartan."

"You said you lead Fireteam Phoenix. How long has the team been together and has it ever been difficult for the unit to maintain cohesion?

"Our unit formed on Trost about five years ago. We were split up shortly after being formed. Took a while to get the squad back together. Aside from some disagreements, we don't really have issues keeping cohesion. Occasionally we'll have arguments, but that happens with any unit."

"What's the hardest part of your job."

"Deciding what the right thing to do is. Sometimes you get orders that conflict with what you believe to be the right thing. You have to draw a line and then decide if it's worth crossing or not. Aside from that, reigning in my team's more eccentric traits."

"If someone asked if signing on with the UNSC was worth it, what would you say?"

"You'll never know unless you do it yourself. Some people aren't cut out for this lifestyle. If you're interested, sign on and try to make it through boot camp."

Andrew

"Would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?"

"I'm Spartan Andrew-G199 and I serve as Explosive Ordnance Technician and MWD Handler for Fireteam Phoenix. This is my Military Working Dog, Sylas."

"We were given a long list of things that we aren't allowed to ask you about, why is that?"

"Due to the nature of my early career much of my record is highly classified."

"What exactly do you do as an Explosive Ordnance Technician?"

"My job is to identify potential explosive hazards and dispose of them. I also build bombs and handle explosive breaching. Sometimes I help teach the E.O.D units on base about the newer threats that Covenant Remnants or Insurrectionists may be fielding."

"Where did the snake motif come from?"

"Early in my career I was tasked with infiltrating and weakening an insurgency. Someone in the organization called me a 'snake in the grass' and a 'viper.' I chose to own the insult. It became my callsign for many years."

"In previous interviews you've stated that you're Thermer's second in command, is that correct?"

"Yes, Spartan Thermer will pass command to me should he find himself in a position where he can't command the unit. The most recent example being the New Sydney attack. Thermer gave me command of ground forces while he called for reinforcements."

"He mentioned that your team has some very eccentric traits. What do you think he meant by that?"

"Could be anything from our banter to my pyromania. King likes to intimidate his foes and will go to great lengths to scare people. Sam is well, Sam. He's probably the biggest jackass of us all."

"What do you consider the team to be."

"To the UNSC, we're an effective counter-insurgency unit. To me, we're a family. We've got each other's backs through thick and thin. I can count on my brothers to put a hundred percent in, and they can count on me to do the same."

"Where do you see yourself in the next ten years?"

"Hopefully retired and back home on Tribute."

King

"How about we start with an introduction?"

"I'm Spartan Brandon King and I provide Fireteam Phoenix with stealth reconnaissance and threat assessment."

"What are your thoughts on your squadmates?"

"They're my brothers. Thermer has a bit of stick up his ass sometimes, but he's got a mean streak. Andrew is a dangerous individual, but he's got some issues that make it difficult to read him. Sam is a show-off, we've had to rerun combat sims because of him before. Him and Andrew tend to butt heads, a lot."

"We've been told that you tend to intimidate your foes. Can you explain why?"

"Warfare is as psychological as it is physical. If I can force my enemy to drop arms and run away, that's one less person I have to worry about. It's also really funny if they piss themselves."

"How does your role work?"

"I sneak behind enemy lines and get a general idea of what they have. Whether they have squad automatic weapons, explosives, et cetera. Once I get the word, I surprise them by firing from their rear."

"So, what drove you to join the service?"

"Both my parents were Marines. I followed in their footsteps. Mom said I should join the Navy but I joined the Corps instead. I probably should've listened to her, but I'm glad I didn't."

"What's the hardest part of being a Spartan?"

"Keeping the other units around us safe. Something people don't consider is how much fire Spartans draw. It can make an already bad situation worse for the regular troops. Often times we have to push ahead and take the brunt of it to keep others safe. We're a double-edged sword."

Sam

"Why don't you tell us who you are."

"My name is Spartan Samuel Caster and I'm one of Fireteam Phoenix' Scout Snipers."

"One of?"

"Aside from being the team's leader, Thermer is a Scout Sniper. We'll typically provide overwatch for the other two when we can."

"What would you say is the fireteam's purpose?"

"We're a direct-action force tasked with combating insurrection activities. This could be militant uprisings in the colonies or Covenant Remnants. If it poses a risk to the safety of our settlements, it's a target."

"Do you feel anything when taking the shot?"

"All I feel is recoil. I don't have much sympathy for rebels. They're the reason I lost my arm. Most don't know how lucky they have it. They want the UEG to back off. Stop demanding resources. The UEG can't afford to do that though. We're still rebuilding what we lost in the war. I survived New Mombasa. I know how bad it can be."

"Andrew seems to think you're a jackass and King says you're a show off. Is there any truth to what they said?"

"I have my moments, just like everyone. If I can line up a shot and get two for the price of one, I will. Sure, I run my mouth a bit, but I'm no less effective than either of them. A good sniper is a force multiplier, just the same as a couple MGs."

"If you could go back and change anything, what would it be?"

"That's a rough one. I'd probably try to take out the sniper that put me out of commission back on Trost. If it weren't for Andrew's quick thinking, we may have not made it off-world. He cauterized the wound and blew one of the entrances to the building we were in. According to King, Andrew dragged me out of there with a broken leg. If I'd have found that gunman first, we'd all be in a lot better shape."

"It sounds like you've all taken a beating in your service."

"That tends to happen when you're the most dangerous unit your enemy could fight."

"What's your favorite thing to do off mission?"

"I like messing with the other troops on base. King and I often rope the other forces into some great bets."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Hey, if they accept the challenge, that's on them."


As I said lots of talking, no action, even spartans need a breather. Going forward I will be re-editing old chapters so that they're easier to read. Not sure when chapter 14 will be out, but it will have more of a focus on action.