1616, March 14th, 2543 [MILITARY CALENDAR]/ UNSC Faithful
The warfront is shifting. It is as plain as day. The fleets are moving closer and closer to the inner colonies. Within a few years, we would be right at Reach's front doors. I hope that it won't come to that. But this is a war after all.
I could tell by the soldier's moral that the war wasn't going well. Planets were being quickly lost. Spartans and Marines were dying, entire fleets were going dark. But yet we fought, refusing to surrender to the Covenant enemy. That's what I admire about the human race, their will to survive no matter what.
As it turns out, the Faithful is a largely Spartan inhabited ship full of mainly Spartan III's. These Spartans are very different from the II's we are used to seeing and being around. They are a lot like the ODST's, except not as arrogant. We learn a lot from talking to them.
We slowly begin to learn how the UNSC and its branches work. The chain of command, the personnel. We had already learned these things while in training, but we learn more about the lax side of it all.
The Spartan III's treat us...differently. Almost with fear. They don't know how to talk to us or how to react to what we do. Fortunately, we always keep to ourselves and almost never engage in conversation unless it's required.
Some have called us "green horns" and "Noobs". I don't know if these are insults, but I ignore them.
Parkson spends most of his time aboard the Faithful with the Engineer. He helps it communicate and escorts it around. But the most interesting thing is that the Engineer is teaching him sign language. It uses a similar mode of communication with its tentacles, signing to communicate, and teaches Parkson the same. Kia is learning with him as his interpreter. The process is interesting and fun to watch.
We have learned from the doctors that Parkson has gone mute. He hasn't got the ability to speak anymore. Something went wrong during the augmentation and his vocal cords were permanently damaged and surgery can't fix it. But Parkson has been coping well, surprisingly.
I instruct each of my teammates to practice in their specializations. Hokai didn't give us them for nothing. I practice with simulations and different tactics for my Air Assault. I learn the in and outs of all aerial attack vehicles. I take most interest in Falcons and pelicans. I admire the Sparrowhawk, but it sits too low to the ground.
We work alone for the most part. Work is all we need to do. Get it done as fast as you can, that's what Hokai taught. Some have commented that it's "too damn weird" how we never socialize. But to us, working with others is socializing.
One day when I'm working on repairing a Falcon in the ships hanger, a Spartan III approaches me and just watches until I am forced to leave the undercarriage of the bird to engage him. I sit up and look at the Spartan. He is six feet tall and wears his biolayer. He has an amused expression and stands with his arms crossed. His hair is an auburn color and his eyes are hazel, but darker than 211's. His face shows many years of battle experience by the way of scars and age.
"I thought I smelled another Air Assault," the Spartan says. Jackson's face falls and he tries to identify the Spartan. But he's never seen him before. "May I ask your name?" Jackson asks, standing up and pushing away the roll cart. The Spartan extends his hand with a smile. "Jacobs-414 of fireteam Zeta, Air Assault division," he answers. Jackson takes the hand and shakes it formally. "Jackson-332 of Blue Team," Jackson says.
Jacobs chipper attitude off-sets Jackson. He isn't used to such a happy soldier, nevermind one that engages him like this.
"So, where's the rest of your squad, squad leader?" Jacobs asks, noting the blue stripe on his chestplate. "Working," Jackson answers. He is a little annoyed by Jacobs, but is too polite to tell him to leave. "I've pulled your records, friend. Don't worry, I do this to all of the new arrivals that come aboard. That's some serious shit you've been through for just your first year. Sending newbies to Thrug? I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been," Jacobs says, shaking his head. Jackson furrows his brow, he hadn't heard much about the situation on Thrug. Or why they were pulled out. "What happened there? We were behind lines," Jackson says.
Jacobs' expression falls and his chipper attitude is replaced by a haunted tone. "We lost. Battle seemed to be going well until another Covie fleet showed up out of nowhere. Took out more than half of our fleet before we could pull out. The situation dirtside wasn't any better. Entire cities wiped before we could even get there. The Covenant weren't so nice to our soldiers either. And I don't mean by killing," Jacobs says. "I even heard they captured a Spartan II. Poor bastard."
"That was one of my teammates. We got him out before pulling out ourselves," Jackson explains, a little surprised that the news had gotten out. "Really? Everyone thought he was dead. Good to know he got out," Jacobs says, the same chipper smile returning.
"You know, Jackson. I don't think you have any other friends. And it's good to have more than your team watching your back," Jacobs says, not giving the other Spartan a chance to say no. "Meet me in the mess during dinner. I'll introduce you to the rest of my squad. I'll see you later. Lighten up, Spartan. Life is only so short!"
I finish up my work and go to check up on my team. I find Parkson and Kia working with the Engineer, learning sign language. I come in and silently watch them. It's an interesting process, watching both Parkson and Kia mimic the hand gestures and adapt it to their own use. But it's lunch time soon, so I have to break their lesson. "Heads up, soldiers. Dinner is on in five minutes. Meet me there," I tell them and leave.
I find 211 in our quarters, sharpening his combat knife. He had taken off his biolayer, which annoys me a little. I had specifically told him to keep it on just in case we were needed on the field. But I hold my tongue and instead stay calm. "Dinner is on in five. Meet us there," I say.
211 is silent for a few seconds before lifting his head. It's just then that I realize how much he has changed. His face is significantly older than when we started. Just a few months ago, we were fresh out of augmentation and ready to take the world head-on. But now we've been thrown into the fire and survived. And it's changed us. The faces I see now aren't the same ones from a few months ago, the ones that had come out alive from the augmentations. The worse we had faced at the time was Red Team's attacks. Now, we've faced death and lived. And I'm proud.
"Sir...is it really worth it?" 211 asks, his expression stoic. "This fight. I'm beginning to doubt if our efforts actually count. We fought tooth and nail for that colony, but we still lost it in the end."
I don't have much of an answer for him. I have been doubting it myself. We lost an entire colony and millions of lives even though we tried our hardest to save it. The Covenant are pushing deeper and deeper into our lines against our best efforts. Will surrendering really be that bad? Can a quick death be worse than dragging it out for this long?
All I can do is shake my head. "I don't know, 211. I don't have that answer."
Later on we all meet up in the mess hall. It's a large room that is simply bustling with activity. Marines and Spartans alike sit down to eat their meals and fill the room with the hum of chatter. It's a little stressful. So many soldiers cramped into one room together. Just waiting for some excuse to fight.
After we get our food, I hear my name being called out. At first I think it's just another person with the same name, but then I spot Jacobs sitting with three other Spartans and realize it's him and his team.
We sit down at the table and Jacobs starts up the conversation. "You know, it's really hard to miss four tall as hell Spartans in a crowd of midgets," Jacobs says, grinning. "Do we know you?" 211 asks in confusion. "I met with your leader here a little while ago. Appearently he forgot to tell you! I'm Jacobs-414, and this is my team," the Spartan III says, gesturing to the other three Spartans with his fork.
Each Spartan sits next to each other, sitting in their biolayer. Their faces are scarred and show many years of battle experience. But none of them look mean or withdrawn. They are downright friendly looking, even though a little intimidating.
The Spartan sitting next to Jacobs has dark brown hair with a distinct red streak in it. He is the tallest of the group and has an air of leadership. But he doesn't look arrogant, quite the opposite. His dark green eyes speak of amusement with everything and a kind demeanor. "I'm Zeke-087, squad leader. If my team screws up, they'll be answering to me," he says.
The girl sitting next to him gives him a sly look. "Even if you're the one screwing up?" The others look as if something had happened to their leader that was ironic. But keep it to themselves.
The girl next to Zeke has dark green hair with streaks of black faded through the green. Her hair is long but tied into a tight ponytail that only barely stretches past the back of her neck. She has striking blue eyes that seem to shift in color with her emotions. "Jessica-104, at your service. I'm the brains of the operation, seeing as how these lug-nuts can't seem to find their own hands," she says, looking specifically to the Spartan next to her. He rolls his eyes, tolerating her teasing. "Funny," he says. "I seem to remember your hair crisis on the battlefield."
The Spartan sitting next to her is slightly taller than the others, but sits hunched over the table with his hands folded in front of him. He has thick and messy hair that looks very unkept. Shortened areas speak of messy self-shave jobs with a combat knife. But his brown eyes speak of intelligence and humor. He even seems to be laughing at himself. "Arnold-019 ready to fight, as long as it isn't with Jessica," he says, nodding to Blue Team.
"Team, this is Jackson-332, Spartan-211, Parkson-333, and Kia-334. Since I know you haven't pulled their files yet, I went ahead and did it for you," Jacobs says. "Remember hearing about the greenies who were sent to Thrug? Yeah. This is them."
Jessica raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Don't look like much. I could take 'em down with my pinkie," she says, flexing her pinkie finger threatingly. "You take down a Spartan II? Don't kid yourself," Arnold says. "Cut it out, you two. I don't think our friends here need your shit after what they went through," Zeke says sharply. "They were shot down, stranded, shot at, and were dirtside during that last fight. I think they deserve more than you bufoons can give."
I'm genuinely surprised by his praise. I didn't expect it from a war veteran, especially a III. "Um...you're not bothering us," I say awkwardly. "Now look at what you've done, you've broken him with your good comments! He's a green horn for gods sake. He's used to those drillers. 'You're pathetic and not worth the UNSC's time!' how's that? Better?" Jacobs says with a grin. He sounds strangely accurate, actually.
"I don't mean to sound rude, but...how did you join the UNSC?" Kia asks, speaking up for the first time. "By joe, she does have a voice!" Jessica exclaims.
"We were all orphans. As is regulation for most III's nowadays," Zeke says, ignoring his teammate. "Dr Catherine Halsey found us and offered us a chance to fight back. What could we say? It was better than doing nothing."
"It's better to fight for as long as you can even when the odds are stacked against you than to roll over and die. Because if you give up, then you're throwing away any chance of ever doing something good. A slim chance is better than no chance," Jacobs says, looking specifically at 211 as if he knew what he had been thinking. 211 returns a startled gaze and holds it for a good few seconds before he understands it. He nods...and something changes. To this day I don't know what went on inside of his mind, but it was an instant and obvious. I think at that moment, he vowed to never give up. To never stop fighting. And the rest of us picked up on it as well. I think that day Blue team truly became Spartans and the quiet newly-augmented green horns were left behind.