Prosthetic Adjustments
1203, January 21st, 2548 [MILITARY CALENDAR]/ Aboard UNSC Faithful, en route to Planet Reach
It was a calm and uneventful return to UNSC controlled space. We passed the time by helping Kia with her recovery and sparring with Zeta.
We meet back up with Jameson aboard his ship and briefly talk with him. He tells us that while our request for a prosthetic is being processed, we would be staying on Planet Reach in temporary military housing. After our last adventure, this is welcome news and we each take it in great stride.
We are reunited with Parkson's engineer, Nervous Flotation, and he spends the majority of the time learning and talking with his alien friend. We learn that the Engineer had been assigned to our ship as a technician. While few could understand its sign language, it is a welcome addition to the crew.
One sleepless night, while the other half of my team sleep, I decide to seek out Kia who I know will be in the observatory room, because she frequently goes there to think.
My footsteps echo unobstructed down the hallways and sound like the clattering of ammo casings falling from a discharging weapon. I find the sound somewhat comforting.
The observatory door slides open before me and I step into the dimly lit room and instantly find Kia who is sitting on the couch in front of the observatory window.
"Oh, Jackson. What's up?" She says, looking up from her book. I come around the couch and sit to her left and relax in the cushions. "I couldn't sleep either. Figure I would keep you company," I say casually. Kia stares at me for a long time until it makes me feel uncomfortable. It is only when I start squirming that she speaks up. "You and I both know that's not why you're here," she says. I grimace and curse the fact that she can read me so well. I decide to cut the crap and get right to it.
"You got pretty messed up, and this is nothing that we've dealt with before. I'm getting worried about you, Spartan. You and I both know that you being sidelined would be too much," I say seriously. Kia just cracks her arrogant smile and flexes her only arm. "Jackson, if I have to strap a wooden board to my side, I'm getting back into the fight. Nothing is going to stop me. Not if I can help it," she says. "And trust me, I can."
Behind the facade of her smile, I know she is just as worried as the rest of us. This is perhaps the hardest thing we have ever faced, the potential loss of one of our own. It is even harder because there is nothing we can do about it.
I just shake my head and put a hand on her shoulder. "Just remember, Spartan, you're the hardest, toughest, son of a bitch I have ever had the pleasure of fighting with. And even if you get sidelined, you'll never be forgotten," I say. A flash of emotion glints behind her eyes and her cocky expression falters for just a second before she replaces it. "If you ever meet any one else harder than me, you tell me and I'll beat their ass into the ground," Kia says and lets out a hearty laugh. I slap her back and jerk my chin back towards the door. "I'm going to bed. You had better think about doing the same, you'll need all the rest you can get before we are dropped off on Reach tomorrow," I say and leave the observatory room to try and catch some shut-eye.
Nine hours later, we drop out of slipspace and make our approach to the military planet. We are informed by Captain Jameson that our request for temporary military housing was accepted and that upon atmospheric entry, we would be given the housing number and coordinates.
We are allowed to take our own Pelican to the surface and then given a personal transportation vehicle for our own use while we are staying on the planet. It takes about an hour and a half before we finally leave the distribution offices and find our housing.
The house is a four bedroom two-story apartment squished together in a rather long complex with plenty of parking and a gorgeous courtyard with a satisfying view of the distant mountains that reach sharply into the sky.
Upon entering the house, the outside noises are silenced and we are plunged into nearly ear-ringing silence. The apartment smells of fresh cleaning supplies which permeate the nearly empty living space.
We each fan out to investigate the house and claim our rooms. 211 and Kia stake their claims upstairs while Parkson and I settle for the two smaller rooms downstairs.
Each room is equipped with a bed, a nightstand, and a compliment of hangers. And while the rooms are plain and boring, Kia assures us that they can be filled up within no time should she get her way.
After a quick walk-around of the surrounding area, I find out that there is a shopping center a few blocks away along with a sprawling mall. There is hospital a few miles away along with a large military base.
It only takes a week for Captain Jameson to get back to us about Kia's prosthetic My heart jumped when he told us through a report that Kia's request was accepted and that her surgery was scheduled for two weeks from now. I relayed the information to the others and they had the same reaction (with 211's being a little over-the-top). Parkson signed something to Kia and she laughed and refused to translate it for us, even after some vigorous prodding from 211.
A few hours later, we all decide to go down to the pool in the center of the courtyard. It is relatively empty as we find our seats and get ready to enter the water. We had bought swimming gear once we found that there was a pool here. I have always wanted to swim in another pool after my first time in New Mombasa.
I hear the slapping of feet and turn to watch 211 sprinting towards the deepest end of the pool. Once he reaches the edge, he whoops and launches himself off of the edge and lands hard into the center, creating a massive splash that makes the waves slosh up over the side.
Kia exclaims in annoyance as she is splashed by 211's antics. "God damn it, 211! Once I get my arm back, you're so screwed!" She shouts, dabbing at her exposed scar with a towel. I grin and follow 211's lead, creating a slightly smaller splash as I hit the water right behind where 211 had just submerged.
I can only barely hear Kia's curses as I plunge into the water and flip around to come back to the surface. I have to duck when a mug is flung at my head and slaps into the water just behind me. 211 and I share a chuckle before swimming away.
Parkson joins Kia at the shallow end where she stays on the stairs before tentivaly edging deeper and deeper into the water, recoiling every so often as the fresh scar gives her a shock. I can't help but watch her as she slowly enters the water with Parkson's help.
We play around in the water for about an hour before leaving and returning to the apartment as a group. Parkson makes us dinner (as it turns out, he's a good cook) and we each settle down doing our own things.
I decide to watch the news and a special about the military frontlines comes up. They talk about the recent wins on a few colonies and a handful of space-battles that were nothing more then skirmashes, but glorified as some big battle.
I realize that there is nothing even remotely referencing Spartans in their broadcasts. I know for a fact that one of the victories on a far-flung colonist planet was soley because of a team of Spartan-III's. But when they were discussing the battle, only the ODST's and Marines were mentioned and praised. It doesn't come as much as a surprise that the Spartans are still under wraps. Though I do wonder how long that will last until the UNSC realizes that the Spartans are just the morale boost everyone needs.
Two weeks pass with agonizing slowness while we wait for Kia's surgery to come around. But we are all relieved when the call comes for Kia's appointment. We each load into the single car we were given and make the forty-five minute drive to the military base.
The hospital we were told to go to is eerily quiet as we walk down the halls to the surgical center. It reminds me of a city under evacuation orders with citizens that are anxiously waiting for the enemy to arrive. The antiseptic smell puts me on edge as we are told to stay in the waiting room while Kia goes in for surgery.
I feel my nerves getting to me and I find myself absentmindedly scratching at my arm, drawing angry red marks across the flesh before Parkson notices and puts a hand on my arm to stop me. He looks concerned and cocks a quizzical eyebrow, but I just shake my head and go back to staring at the floor.
We wait for what seems like ages before the nurse comes out, looking exhausted, and tells us the operation was a success. We are then allowed into her room and walk in on her practicing basic exercises
Replacing where nothing had been just hours before is a completely metal arm. Its bare mechanics rotate and stretch as she works clumsily with it. It is attached to a ball that simulates the movements that an organic arm would make.
"You're an actual cyborg now," 211 says upon reaching her bedside. Kia gives a vague smile, but her features quickly tighten back up into a stretched expression of concentration. Parkson signs something to her and Kia responds clumsily with both of her hands. "How are you holding up?" I ask her. Kia raises her arm and balls the fingers into a fist. She then strikes out at 211, hitting his chest hard. 211 reels from the hit and looks stunned for a moment before laughing.
"Does that answer your question?" she responds, grinning broadly. I cock my head to look at the arm and notice a few things. "Hey, you can add some attachments to that thing. And with some war-paint, it will look Spartan worthy," I say. She looks at her arm and nods, noticing it as well. "I'll have to ask Jameson about that once we get back," she says.
After another twenty minutes of exercises, we are released from the clinic and sent home with a prescription for pain killers and an appointment with the physical therapist.
As the days pass, Kia adjusts to the prosthetic fast. Our worries about her being unable to return to the fight are quickly left behind when we realize that her new arm is twice as strong as the old one. She had told all three of us to take her on at once, and it ended with us flat on the floor and her standing victorious.
Three weeks before our time on the planet is up, however, I get an encrypted message on my holopad from the Office of Naval Intelligence informing us that our services will be needed for a new mission, and that we would have to leave as soon as possible. As usual, information on the mission is scarce.
The others are excited to be returning to the fight and are not slow to pack up and leave the apartment behind.
We take the Tether to the space station where we take a shuttle to the UNSC Faithful. We are not even able to settle down before Captain Jameson calls us to the meeting room. He didn't give us details, and he sounded tense. So I'm assuming that the ONI agent would be waiting for us.
My suspicions are confirmed when we go through the door and find a ghostly looking man standing behind Jameson in black clothing. "Spartans, this is Lieutenant Agraven. He has a mission for you," the Captain says, looking aggravated by the ONI agent's presence. Not even expecting to the ONI person to be friendly, I get right down to business.
"What do you have for us?" I ask, walking over to the star chart which lights up and throws up a projection of a star system. "I am sure I do not have to inform you all information that I give you will not leave this room," the man says, pausing to get our reactions. "You can trust us," I respond. "Good," Agraven says and looks up as the lights dim and details sprawl out on the side of the projections.
"At 1348 hours on December 14th, we had an unknown signature enter the Sigari system. Attempts at contact were met with silence, and its build did not meet any known Covenant, UNSC, or Insurrectionist vehicles," Agraven says. A 2-D picture appears on the projections and shows a distant picture of a small grey colored ship. Its wings are swooping forwards and it has a pod-shaped nose. The build looks too sharp to be Covenant, and I don't recognize it as UNSC. Maybe one of the Jackal raider ships?
"The vehicle disappeared on Sigari V under cover of an electrical storm. We sent a contact team, but they have not yet reported back, they are to be assumed dead. This mission is to be met with extreme caution and treated with the utmost secrecy," The ONI agent says. 211 raises his hand like a child in school before speaking, which makes me break the face of seriousness I had put on.
"So what you're saying is; you're sending us on a mission to intercept an unknown target on a dead planet of which we have no data on?" He asks. Agraven's features tighten, obviously signaling annoyance, and he nods. "Correct."
211 rubs his hands together and laughs. "What are we waiting for, then?"