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WARNING: This story contains some MATURE LANGUAGE
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN MEDAL OF HONOR OR HALO
ALL OC'S ARE MINE
Chapter 6: New Threat
Epsilon Eridani system, planet Reach- UNSC Military Complex
November 2, 2525
0600 hours
Matt and the rest of the Spartans wondered who had died. They were called to muster in their dress uniforms only one time previously: funeral detail. John was awarded the Purple Heart because of his injuries that he got from the mission to cature Colonol Watts. All the Spartan filed into the amphitheater and sat down. Matt sat smack dab in the center of the third row, with Linda right beside him on his right and John on his left.
All the Spartan sat quietly and Matt looked back on the last time he and the other Spartans had been in Reach's secure briefing room: where Dr. Halsey had told them that they were going to be soldiers. This was where all of their lives had changed forever and they were given a purpose.
Chief Mendez entered the room and marched to the center platform. He, like the Spartans, wore his black dress uniform as well. His chest wa covered with multiple silver and bronze stars, three Purple Hearts, the Red Legion of Honor award, and a rainbow of campaign ribbons. He had also recently shaved his head.
All the Spartans rose and stood at attention.
Dr. Halsey entered the room. She looked to Matt, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth were more pronounced, the streaks of gray in her dark hair. But as ever, her blue eyes were sharp. She wore gray slacks, a black shirt, and her glasses hung around her neck on a gold chain.
"Vice Admiral on deck!" Mendez announced.
The Spartans all snapped to attention and stood straighter.
A man six years Dr. Halsey's senior strode into the room and onto the center stage. His short silver hair looked like a steel helmet. His gait had a strange loop in it-what crewmen called "space walk"-from spending too much time in microgravity. He wee a simple, unadorned black dress UNSC uniform with no medals or ribbons. The insignia on his forearm of his jacket, however, was unmistakeable: the rank of a Vice Admiral.
"At ease Spartans," he said. "I'm Vice Admiral Stanforth."
The Spartans then took their seats in unison.
Dust swirled on stage and collected into a robed figure. Its face was obscured within the shadows of its hood. As far as Matt could discern, he saw no hands at the end of its sleaves.
"And this here is Beowolf," Vice Admiral Stanforth said as he gestured to the ghostly figure. Stanforth's voice was calm, but distaste was evident on his face. "He is our AI attaché with the Office of Navel Intelligence."
He turned away from the AI. "We have several important issues to discuss this morning, so let's get started."
The lights in the room dimmed. An amber sun appearedin the center of the room, with three planets in close orbit around it.
"This is Harvest," he said. "Population of approximately three million. Although on the periphery of UNSC-controlled space, this is one of our more productive and peaceful colonies."
The holographic view zoomed in on the surface of the world and showed grasslands and forests and a thousand lakes swarming with schools of fish.
"As of military calendar February 3, at 1423 hours, the Harvest orbital platform made long range radar contact with this object."
A blurry object outline appeared over the stage. "Spectroscopic analysis proved incolclusive," Vice Admiral Stanforth said. "The object of materials unknown to us."
A molecular absorption graph appeared on a side screen, spikes and jagged lines indicating the relative proportions of elements.
Beowolf raised a clocked arm and the image darkened. The words CLASSIFIED-EYES ONLY appeared over the blackened data.
Vice Admiral Stanforth shot a glare at the AI.
"Contact with Harvest," he continued, "was lost shortly thereafter. The ColMilitary Administration sent hte scout ship Argo to investigate. That ship arrived in-system on April 20, but other than a brief transmission to confrim their exit Slipspace position, no furthr reports were made. In resonse, Fleet Command assembled a battlegroup to investigate. The group consisted of the destroyer, Heracles, commanded by Captain Veredi, as well as the frigates, Arabia and Vostok. They entered Epsilon Indi System on October seventh and discovered the following."
The holograph of the planet Harvestchanged. The lush fields and rolling hills transformed, morphing into a cratered, barren desert. Thin gray sunlight reflected off a glassy crust. Heat wavered from the surface. Isolated regions glowed red.
"This is what was left of the colony." The Vice Admiral paused for a moment to stare at the image, and then contiued. "We assume all inhabitants are lost."
'Three million lives lost, Jesus Christ' Matt thought. He couldn't fathom the sheer amount of raw force it had taken to kill so many-for a moment he was torn horror and envy. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see if he could see a reaction from Linda. She had a similar look on her face. He then glanced at John as well. He was looking down at his Purple Heart, no doubt remembering his lost comrades, but Matt could tell he had similar thoughts.
"And this is what the Heracles battlegroup found in orbit," Vice Admiral Staforth told them.
The blurry outline that was still visible, hanging in the air, sharpened into crisp focus. It looked smooth and organic, and the hull possessed an old, opalescent sheen-it looked more like the carapace of anexotic insect than the metal hull of a spacecraft. Recessed into the aft section were pods that pulsed with a purple-white glow. The prow of the craft was swollen like the head of a whale. Matt thought that it possessed an odd, predatory beauty.
"The unidentified vessel," the Vice Admiral said, "launched an immediate attack on out forces."
Blue flsshes strobed from the ship. Red motes of light then appeared along its hull. Bolts of energy coalesced into a fieery smear against the blackness of space. The deadly flashes of light impacted on the Arabia, splashed across its hull. Its meter of armor plating instantly boiled away, and a plume of ignited atmosphere burst from the breach in the ship's hull. "Those were pulse lasers." Vice admiral Stanforth explained, "and-if this record is to be believed-some kind of self-guided, superheated plasma weapon."
The Heracles and Vostok launched salvos of missles towards the craft. The enemy's lasers shot half before they reached their target. The balance of the missles impscted, detonated into blossoms of fire... that quickly faded. The strange ship shimmered with a semitransparent silver coating, which then vanished.
"They also seem to have some reflection shield." Vice Admiral Stanforth took a deep breath and his features hardened into a mask of grim reslove. "The Vostok and Arabia were lost with all hands. The Heracles jumped out of the system, but due to the damage she sustained, it took several weeks for Captain Veredi to make it back to Reach.
"These weapons and defensive systems are currently beyond our technology. Therefore... this craft is of nonhuman origion." He paused, then added, "The product of a race with technology far in advance of our own."
A murmer broke out within the chamber.
"We have, of course, developed a number of first contact scenarios," the Vice Admiral continued, "and Captain Veredi followed our established protocols. We had hoped that contact with a new race would be peaceful. Obviously, this was not the case-the alien vessel did not open fire until our task force attempted to initiate communications."
He paused, considering his words. "Fragments of the enemy's transmissions were intercepted," he continued. "a few words have been translated. We believe they call themselves 'The Covenant.' However, before opening fire, the alien ship broadcast the following message in the clear."
He gestured to Beowolf, who nodded. A moment later, a voice thundered from the amphitheater's speakers. Matt stiffened in his seat when he heard it; the voice from the speakers sounded odd, artifical-strangely calm and formal, but laden with rageand menace.
"Your destruction is the will of the Gods... and we are their instrument."
Matt was awestuck. He saw John stand up.
"Yes, Spartan?" Stanforth said.
"Sir, is this a translation?
"No," the Vice Admiral replied. "They broadcast this to us in our language. We believe they have some kind of translation system to prepare the message... but it means they've been studying us for some time."
John took his seat. Matt then stood up.
"Yes, Spartan?" Stanforth asked again.
Sir, do we know how long they've been studying us?"
"No," the Vice Admiral said. They could've been watching us for weeks, months, maybe even years... but as of right now, we do not know."
Matt then took his seat.
"As of November 1, the UNSC has ordered to full alert," Stanforth said. "Vice Admiral Preston Cole is mobilizing the largest fleet action in human history to retake the Epsilon Indi System and confront this new threat. Their transmission made one thing perfectly clear: they're looking for a fight."
Only years of military discipline kept Matt rooted to his seat-otherwise he would stood up and asked t ovolunteer on the spot. He would have given anything to go and fight. This was a threat he and the other Spartans had been training for all of their lives-he was certain of it. Not scattered rebels, pirates, or political dissidents.
"Because of this UNSC-wide mobilization," Vice Admiral Stanforth continued, "your training schedule will be accelerated to it final phase: Project MJOLNIR."
He stepped away from the podium and clasped his hands behind his back. "To that end, I'm afraid I have another unpleasant announcement." He turned to the Chief. "Chief Petty Officier Mendez will be leaving us to train the next group of Spartans. Chief?"
Matt clutched the riser in front of him. He saw John do the same. Choef Mendez had always been there for them, the constant in the universe. Vice Admiral Stanforth might as well have told them that Reach was leaving the Epsilon Eridani System.
The Chief stepped up to the podium and clasped its edges.
"Recruits," he said, "soon your training will be complete, and you will graduate to the rank of Petty Officier Second Class in the UNSC. One of the first things you will learn is that change is part of a soldier's life. You will make and lose friends. You will move. This is part of the job.
He looked at his audience. His dark eyes rested on each one of them. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he saw.
"The Spartans are the group of soldiers that I have ever encoumtered," he continued. "It has been a privilege to train you. Never forget what I've tried to teach you-duty, honor, and sacrifice for the greater good of humanity are the qualities that make you the best."
He was silent for moment, searching for more words. But finding none, he stood at attention and saluted.
"Attention," Matt heard John bark next to him. The Spartans rose as one and saluted the Chief.
"Dismissed, Spartans," Chief Menedz said. "And good luck." He finished his salute.
The Spartans snapped their arms down. They hesitated, and then reluctantly filed out the amphitheater. John and Matt were the only ones that stayed behind. They both wanted to talk to Chief Mendez. Dr. Halsey spoke briefly with the Chief and the Vice Admiral, then she and the Vice Admiral left together. Beowolf backed toward the far wall and faded away like a ghost.
The Chief gathered his hat, spotted John and Matt, and walked to them. He nodded to the hologram of the scorched colony, Harvest, still rotating in the air. "One final lesson Petty Officiers," he said. "What tactical options do you have when attacking a stronger opponent?"
"Sir!" They replied in unison. "There are two options. Attack swiftly and with full force at heir weakest point-take them out quickly before they have a chance to respond."
"Good," he said. "And the other option?"
"Fall back," they said. "Engage in guerrilla actions or get reinforcements."
The Chief sighed. "Those are both correct answers," he said, "but it may not be enough to be correct this time. Sit, please."
John and Matt sat, and the Chief settled next to them on the rise.
"There is a third option." The Chief turned his hat over in his hands. "An option that others may eventually consider..."
"Sir?" they asked?
"Surrender," the Chief whispered. "That, however, is never an option for the likes you two and me. We don't have the luxury of backing down." He glanced up at Harvest-a glistening ball of glass. "And I doubt that an enemy like this will let us surrender."
I think we understand, sir" John said.
"Make sure you do. And make sure you don't let anyone else give up." He gazed into the shadows beyond the center platform. "Project MJOLNIR will make the Spartans into something... new. Something I could never forge them into. I can't fully explain-that damned ONI spook is still here listening-just trust Dr. Halsey."
The Chief dug into his jacket pocket. "I was hoping to see you two before they shipped me out. I have something for both of you." He set two small metal disks on the riser between the two of them.
"When you two first came here," the Chief said, "you two fought the trainers when they took this away from both of you-broke a few fingers as I recall." His chiseled features cracked into a rare smile.
John and Matt both picked up a disk and examined it. It was an ancient silver coin. They flipped it between their fingers.
"It has a eagle on one side," Menedz said. "That bird is like the two of you-fast and deadly."
John and Matt closed their fingers around the quarter that they held in their hands. "Thank you, sir." they said in unison.
Matt wanted to say that he was strong and fast because the Chief and Jack Pravdin had made him so. He wanted to tell the Chief that he wa ready to defend humanity against this new threat. He wanted to say that without the Chief, he would have no purpose, no integrity, and no duty to perform. But Matt didn't have the words. He just sat there.
Menedz stood. "It has been an honor to serve with you." Instead of saluting, he held out his hand.
John stood. He took the Chief's hand and they shook. Then Matt did the same. It took a great deal of effort-every instinct in Matt's body creamed at him to salute the Chief.
"Good-bye," Chief Mendez said.
He turned briskly on his heel and strode from the room.
Just as the Chief was about to walk out the door, Matt called out, "Chief?"
The Chief stopped just before the doorway and turned around to face him. "Yes?"
Matt saluted and said, "Sir, it's been an honor to serve with you. And thank you for everything you taught us."
Menedz gave him another rare smile. "You are most welcome, Spartan," he replied. He then saluted and said, "Good-bye Spartan and good hunting." He then turned around and walked out of the room.
Matt didn't know it then, but he would see the chief again... 6 years later.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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-general ML