2401 hours, September 23, 2525 (Military Calendar)\
Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center
Docking Bay 3-C, planet Reach
Alex marched hurriedly into the warm facility, yearning for a real meal. Well, he chuckled, as real as it gets with the UNSC. The team marched in unison through the grey blast doors and into the hutch of the familiar grey hall. Low lights gave the dull grey overtone a warm feel. The blast doors thunked together again behind the column, which collapsed as soon as they were sealed.
"Shower time!" yelled a Spartan. A murmur of happy assent rose, and the content group trotted down the hall, eager for the first bath in five days. Alex trotted alongside Grace, unlocking armor pieces as he ran towards the large, white tiled room. They ragtag group turned left from the dead end, down two rooms, and then to the right down another long hall. Spartan-082 paused at the door to the showers as the others jostled behind him, and then yanked it open.
Fifty showerheads lined three walls of the room, with temperature nozzles below them. Drains congregated at the middle of the slightly slanted floor so the water would slide down into them. Brilliant white tiles reflected the bright lights from the low ceiling, creating a white glare. And right now, the room was heaven.
Alex trotted over to the nearest showerhead. He twisted the water to the highest temperature, pulled the nozzle towards himself, and slowly relaxed as steaming hot water rained down.
2436 hours, September 23, 2525 (Military Calendar)\
Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center
Mess Hall, planet Reach
Spartan-109 sat, hunched in a deserted corner of the Spartan II barracks. He had, despite having not gotten a hot shower for five days, kept his shower to fifteen minutes long. After that he had prepared and scarfed down an MRE in 15. Now he and the rest of the special ops trainees were gathered again in the Spartan II barracks.
Alex sat, as usual, in the dark, alone. He liked being able to look on over everyone sometimes. But his heart ached to be included. To be one with them. But what would that bring? The chaos and turmoil of what pitiful shreds of real relationships that existed in the group could cause too much pain. But still...
Alex shook his head. Masking his feelings behind a frown, he proceeded his... overseeing of the daily life and development of his batch of Spartans. He had developed an outsider view of the group: a result of seclusion.
Linda was inside the dim ring of light, sitting back in an old folding chair around a dusty, brown felt-topped table. The other Spartans were playing yet another card game. John was winning. He was the luckiest. The group laughed as Fred, in play, stole John's cards and yelled "TEN!" slamming them down on the rickety table. Linda laughed along with the rest, eyes sparkling and cheeks glowing in the soft light.
She caught his eyes, as always, and smiled. Her eyes flicked back to the group, the family, and her smile fell into a slight frown. Her eyes dropped to her feet, and she absentmindedly pulled her hair behind one ear with a dainty forefinger. Linda's eyes looked back into his for a second.
Come on. They beckoned.
Then she looked away.
The slightly older Spartan frowned, and gazed at the MA2-B in his hands. He had been cleaning it again. Just like before. Alex looked up at Linda and the group again, his mind spinning.
Her eyes had also held another whisper. I won't wait for you.
Alex pushed himself up from his 'movie director' style chair. He dropped the Ma2-B to the ground; his resolve hardening. He walked slowly towards the other Spartans, fists clenched. A hush fell as he shouldered inside the compact group. He stood there for a moment, flicking his glance between his friends. John scowled, his brow creasing as if to say -don't do anything stupid. Linda bit her lower lip and looked down at the floor. Fred sat, jaw clenched, tensely waiting for the next move. Alex spoke.
"As you might be able to tell," he began slowly. "We have been pushed extra hard lately." Twenty-something anxious Spartans stared back at him, faces illuminated. No one spoke. "All of our training, all of our effort is coming to a head. I think that we only have a few more months before it. Before... we need to be ready." He looked each of those present in the eye. A few swallowed and looked away, either to their hands or to other Spartans. Linda looked straight up at Alex. "I realize..." Alex stalled, mulling over his words. "That some of us have allowed personal feelings to get in the way of our preparation, which hinders everything. But when we allow personal feelings get in the way of the job, we are dead." Alex sighed as he held out his hand to Fred. "If we don't give up this quarrel, we are as good as dead. We need to be ready to do our job. And do it like Spartans."
No one moved except John and Linda as they shifted slightly, getting ready to step between Spartan-109 and 104 when they erupted in a fight. A tense silence hung in the air. Fred's expression was unreadable, his face impassive. He slowly stood up, leaned across the table, and took Alex's hand. And shook it.