Chapter 4
"That's the ship we're gonna be taking?" Fred asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.
They were currently looking at a clearly derelict space station nestled in orbit on the dark side of the moon over Conrad's Point. Attached to its dorsal structure was what was clearly a miniature shipyard. Two long metal beams jutted out of the top of the installation in a prong shape, the "inner" sides full of construction equipment. Robotic arms held welders, clamps, and manipulating claws. Emergency air tanks and suit parts were stored at regular distances in case a worker experienced a suit breach while performing EVA activity. In the middle of all of this was a rather small ship. It was shaped roughly like a terrestrial aircraft, with a single central section to house the crew and two triangular, swept wings connected to it on opposite sides of the fuselage. It had what was clearly a cockpit section, although it lacked any windows, doubtless relying on external camera feeds. It was only a little longer than the now-obsolete Longsword 4-man fighter/bomber, looking to be roughly 70m long, and it appeared to be even thinner at roughly 50m from wing tip to wing tip.
"That thing even have a slipspace drive on it?" Fred continued.
"Of course it does," Dr. Halsey responded, "I would hardly have bothered bringing you all here if it didn't."
"What did you say this facility was again?" he asked.
However it was Blue Two, Linda, who responded. "The UNSC Argent Moon. It was a top secret ONI research base. Stated goal was to refine and advance stealth technology, taking advantage of recovered Covenant tech. Contact with it was lost in 2556 following a single, garbled transmission reporting an attack by an unknown Sangheili force, now known to be one of the predecessors to the Storm Covenant. The Storm attack ship was most likely destroyed by station defenses and eventually pulled by gravity onto the moon's surface. The officers in charge of the project had managed to keep its exact location secret. When the facility went dark, said officers disappeared, and noone knew where to find it. ONI lost billions of credit units and priceless technology when Argent Moon was lost. Dr. Halsey must have discovered its location by covertly examining old records while in Storm captivity."
"That..that is correct," Dr. Halsey said, almost allowing a bit of shock to show in her voice. "How did you know that?"
"I have sources," Linda responded cryptically.
"'You have sources...'" Fred repeated, confused.
"Explain, Blue Two," the Master Chief ordered.
Linda complied instantly. "Over the course of my career I established a series of contacts and informants in the regular UNSC military, as well as a few low-ranking ONI employees. I've also refined my hacking and social engineering skills to enable me to locate information I feel would be valuable and cannot acquire through a third party. It's not up to par with any official intelligence service, but I keep my ear to the ground," Linda said in a business-like tone, as if she were talking about something completely normal.
"Wait," Kelly said, "are you telling me that you've been secretly developing a spy network within the UNSC for decades? And that said network has given you access to classified materials?"
"A small spy network, but effectively, yes," Linda replied.
The Master Chief was more than a little perturbed. "And you didn't think to mention this to anyone?"
"I didn't feel it was relevant, sir," Linda said defensively. She quickly added, "It's important to keep any sources on a strictly need-to-know basis. Anyway, for most of the war we were on different teams and if I did find something useful in our joint missions I just accessed your compad and added it to your mission brief."
"You hacked my compads?" the Chief asked, incredulous.
"Only sometimes, sir," she said uncomfortably.
"And you're telling me ONI has no idea you were doing this?" Kelly asked insistently.
"I figured out that I shouldn't trust them pretty quickly. If they had figured it out on their own, I imagine I would have received disciplinary actions," Linda replied, her tone once again all business.
The Master Chief snorted inside his helmet, careful not to transmit the sound.
To everyone's surprise, Dr. Halsey started chuckling. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Did I ever tell any of you what I found Linda up to back when I first identified her for recruitment?"
They all responded in the negative, save for Linda, who remained conspicuously silent.
"I discovered that she had developed a network of informants among her fellow students, and even some faculty members, in order to spy on the teachers of her school. She used the information they provided her to tailor her behavior in each class in order to maximize the positive impression she left on each teacher. Rather impressive work for a 5 year old, wouldn't you say?" Dr. Halsey elaborated.
Linda, once again, remained silent.
"I guess its true what they say," Fred chuckled, "it's always the quiet ones."
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The rest of Blue Team kept Fred covered as he pulled the inert airlock doors open, revealing the darkened interior of the derelict space station. There was obvious damage throughout the corridor. Plasma scoring and bullet holes dotted the walls, signs of the desperate battle that had been waged there. The exterior hull had been breached in several places by Covenant boarding craft, their interiors, visible from the corridor, were as dark and lifeless as the station they were attached to. Frozen corpses, both human and Sangheili, littered the floor, looking like gray clumps of clay in the enhanced light mode of Spartan's helmets. There was no atmosphere, the air having leaked out and the life support systems shutting off when the power failed.
Said power had failed when something breached the reactor, bathing the entire interior of the ship in lethal radiation. For this reason, Dr. Halsey had been forced to remain on the Pelican, the Spartan's MJOLNIR armor being the only thing that allowed the members of Blue Team to safely operate inside.
The Master Chief motioned forward. Blue Three pushed into the corridor, followed by the Master Chief and Blue One, who covered the side passages, and Blue Two, who covered the rear. While it was exceptionally unlikely that they would find any hostiles, the Spartans were not in the habit of taking chances.
They made their way through the facility, passing several labs filled with astronomically expensive equipment. They eventually made their way to the control center and proceeded to use cutting torches to create an opening in the now-inert security doors. They crawled through the hole, careful to avoid the red hot edges, and proceeded to the computer consoles. Linda attached a portable power generator to the main unit, plugged her radiation-shielded datapad into the administrative terminal, and activated the decryption program she and Dr. Halsey had written on the Pelican ride from the surface of Conrad's Point.
"I can't believe ONI just lost track of this place," Kelly remarked. "I can think of more than a few times over the past few years we could have used functional stealth tech."
"I suppose it would be difficult for someone of your background to understand, Kelly," Halsey answered over the comms, slipping into her "instructor" tone of voice. "You're used to a normal military command structure. Picture the roots of a tree. The top of the root is the highest ranking flag officer, currently Terrence Hood, and each fork in the branches below him represents an officer. All information flows upward, so the individual on top, at least theoretically, has access to all the information the whole has collected. This allows him and his subordinates to effectively coordinate the activities of the various branches." The Spartans were following along so far.
"ONI, however, is not set up so efficiently. Instead of the root, picture a large box. Inside the box are a number of smaller boxes. However, the boxes don't simply decrease in size as you look further in from the edges. Some boxes are placed parallel to each other; they are separate, with the individuals within one box having no access to the information within the other. Many of these separate boxes have other, smaller boxes within them, some of which include additional boxes within them. The commanding officers of ONI are often not kept informed of what every division and subdivision is doing. The exact workings of the whole of ONI is never known by any one party, even those at the 'top.'"
The Spartans marveled at the sheer lack of logic in such a system. "But how would the individual departments know how to keep out of each other's way?" the Master Chief asked.
"Ah, now you're beginning to understand, John," Halsey praised. "They don't. It would be bad enough if these boxes merely gathered information, but as you know, this is not the case. Countless operations and projects have met with setbacks, if not outright failure, because other departments accidentally interfered with their work. Informants that one department spent years developing have been assassinated by other departments that had no idea of the individual's duplicitous activities. Priceless intelligence has been lost when impetuous, opportunistic officers ordered air strikes on enemy camps they just learned the location of, spoiling the tireless work of an unknown department that had let said camp develop in order to intercept its communications. It's a testament to the ruthlessness and sheer, bloody-minded stubbornness of its leaders that the Office of Naval Intelligence even functions at all."
The Master Chief shook his head. His decision to pursue the Guardians on his own initiative was looking more and more like the right decision. He made a mental note to have a good, long conversation with Lord Hood when this was all over. This insanity needed to stop.
"We've got access," Linda announced from the console.
"Take all of the information on the prototype stealth vessel. I want instructions, manuals, schematics, everything we can fit on the data cubes," the Master Chief ordered. The ship they had spotted before was a prototype "micro-prowler." Designed to be operated by a crew of less than five, the state-of-the-art stealth vessel was the most advanced recon and surveillance ship ever designed by human minds. Its hull was made of a special composite material that was undetectable to all types of passive scans and most types of active ones. It was completely coated in a brand new paint-like material that absorbed the majority of light that impacted it. Most importantly, it was the first starship in recorded history to feature active-cloaking technology. Said tech would bend the light around the ship, making it nearly invisible to the visual spectrum, and foil even more types of scanners.
"I thought cloaking tech was impossible on anything larger than 3 meters?" Fred had asked back on the Pelican, referring to the limitation Covenant engineers had accepted as universal for centuries.
"While active-cloaking technology is still severely limited, it is not quite as limited as the Covenant believed," Halsey had responded. "I doubt it could ever work on anything larger than the prototype vessel outside the station. Also, please remember that this technology is not flawless. Get too close, or stay too long in an area of space the enemy knows you occupy, and they will find a way to locate you...or should I say, us."
Linda retrieved all the data available on the micro-prowler, as well as several terabytes of logs, security codes, and miscellaneous information that could prove useful for a their group of renegades. The codes would of course be long out of date, but they needed every resource they could potentially make use of. As such, Blue Team made sure to raid the station armory for much-needed supplies. They found only a few crates of usable ammunition, some fragmentation grenades, and three standard issue MA5C assault rifles. Slim pickings, indeed.
They then proceeded to scavenge the various labs and maintenance areas for important supplies. Given the small size of their new ship, their options were painfully limited considering what could be needed for such an unconventional, independent operation. Food and medical supplies were particularly prized. Eventually they had gathered everything they safely could, and made their way back out of the station.
Once on the outside they activated two emergency radiation chambers by the shipyard section of the facility. Said "chambers" were made up of specially designed plastic walls that folded out from compartments attached to the exterior hull. The Spartans piled their scavenged equipment in one, closed and activated it, and then crawled into the other themselves. Once activated, a nozzle at the "bottom" of the chamber began spraying a thick, pink foam into it. The foam expanded upon contact with their armor, growing to cover ever millimeter of exposed material, every nook and seam. The foam then leeched the excess radiation into itself, trapping it within the bounds of its own material. After several minutes the foam began to harden and the Spartans were able to brush most of it off. They exited the chamber, retrieved their gear, and headed back to the Pelican.
An hour later they had opened the micro-prowler, activated its life support, and moved Dr. Halsey and all of the necessary gear into it. Fortunately, the ship's fusion reactor was already installed and awaiting activation when the force of Covenant remnant had attacked.
Thus free of immediate worries, Dr. Halsey proceeded to spend the next 24 hours attempting to discern the most probable place the next Guardian would awaken.
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"Meridian," she announced to the gathered members of Blue Team.
The Master Chief searched his memory of UEG colonies. "Wasn't that an outer colony that was glassed in 2548?" he asked.
"Correct, John," she responded. "However, 2 years ago the UEG Senate gave approval for a private corporation, the 'Liang-Dortmund Company,' to settle on the planet and begin terraforming operations there. It hasn't gotten far yet, obviously, but there are several small portions of the planet that are now livable. One of them even has an orbital elevator."
"That's where we'll find the Guardian?" the Chief asked, wanting confirmation.
"Correct. Once there, we will need to locate the primary Forerunner ruins so I can access its computer systems. It's the only way I will be able to trace the awakening of the Guardians to their source," Halsey explained.
And find Cortana, John silently added.
"Meridian it is."
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"Spartan Locke, greetings," Captain Thomas Lasky said. They were in a small briefing room, and Locke was about to be assigned his squad. Presiding over the events was a young ONI Officer. She didn't deign to identify herself, although her uniform identified her as a "Maj. Ackerson."
The Captain and the Spartan IV traded salutes before sitting down, Locke in front of Lasky's desk and Lasky behind it. Ackerson stood to one side.
"In the interest of mutual cooperation between the UNSC Infinity and the Office of Naval Intelligence I am hereby transferring you and three of your fellow Spartans into their direct command for the duration of one operation. I have already taken the liberty of selecting said Spartans and will send you their files now. All three have top of the line training, significant field experience, and have been instructed in the use of the new MJOLNIR Mark VIII armor. I'm confident you'll be satisfied," Lasky said, sounding like he was reading off of a sheet. He had probably rehearsed that several times before this meeting. Clearly, he was unhappy being overseen by ONI. While technically only a captain, Thomas Lasky commanded the Infinity, flagship of the UNSC fleet. In reality he answered only to Fleet Admiral Hood himself.
Unfortunately for him, events on Requiem had put him on ONI's shit list for the time being. He had been ordered to have Dr. Halsey eliminated and while he had sent a team of Spartans to do just that, he had also sent an additional team to extract her alive before the order could be carried out. Needless to say, ONI had not been pleased. For the time being he would have to accommodate their desires, Admiral Hood's protection or not.
Locke's datapad chirped, signaling that he had received the files Lasky had sent him on the three soldiers. Locke's eyebrows shot up as looked over the list.
"What is the meaning of this?" Ackerson asked. Apparently Lasky had sent her the files as well. Or not.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Lasky replied, stone-faced. "All of these Spartans are perfectly capable soldiers."
"This so-called 'team' is a timebomb, Captain! They are wholly unsuited for the tasks they will have to carry out on their coming assignment," Ackerson all but shouted.
Locke couldn't help but agree. Not that they would be unsuited for waging war, of course. Rather, they were unsuited for working for ONI. He wouldn't want to trust any of them to do the ugly things necessary for those who lived in the shadows. Maybe they're supposed to keep me in line, Locke thought. Maybe even inform on me to the good Captain Lasky and his papa Hood.
"These soldiers are fully trained Spartan IVs, Major," Lasky responded calmly. "I assure you they have more than enough discipline, professionalism, and combat aptitude for even the most difficult of assignments. It's what Spartans were made for, after all."
Ackerson fumed, but Locke knew there was nothing that she could do. Short of coming out and admitting that she wanted a squad that was amenable to committing war crimes she could not reasonably argue that these elite soldiers could not make the cut. Unfortunately for her and Locke, ONI did not have any direct control over the Spartan IV program or the Infinity. Fleet Admiral Hood, cunning bastard that he was, had seen to that when he oversaw the creation of both. It was the foremost reason the ONI leadership was so desperate to get Blue Team back under control. Having run their lives with complete control since age 6, ONI could tell the Spartan IIs to jump naked into a star and they wouldn't hesitate to fabricate a suicide note, steal a ship, and jump out the airlock themselves just to make sure everyone thought it was their idea. The only one who could possibly subvert that control was their mother figure, Dr. Halsey. As soon as she was dealt with, ONI would have their drones back.
"I...thank you for your cooperation, Captain Lasky. They will do fine," Ackerson ground out from behind clenched teeth.
Captain Lasky nodded to her before looking to Spartan Locke. "You have your orders, Spartan. Dismissed."
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Locke sat in his office, looking over the files one last time before meeting his new crew in person. He had arranged for them to report to his office one at a time. This would allow him to get a feel for each Spartan as an individual. It would also let him establish who was boss. He would bet cash units that none of them were happy working for a former spook and he needed to establish the proper respect fast.
There was a knock at his door. First up.
"Enter," Locke called out, standing up from his desk chair.
Squadmate Number 1 entered the room. She walked ramrod straight, stopped in front of his desk, and saluted. "Sir, Spartan Holly Tanaka reporting for duty, sir!"
Technically everything she had just done was completely regulation. However, given the informality Spartan IVs tended to have amongst themselves and the completely deadpan, ultra-serious way she said it, Spartan Tanaka had somehow managed to turn a completely regulation greeting into a middle finger.
Locke sighed internally and returned the salute. "At ease, Spartan."
Tanaka went to parade rest, feet shoulder length apart, hands behind her back, chest out and shoulders back. More sarcasm.
Sweet Christmas, Locke thought to himself.
"Cut the 'sir' crap, Spartan, we're not on parade," Locke said sternly.
Tanaka nodded, relaxing her posture.
"So, I imagine you've received your new standing orders?" Locke asked, walking around the desk to lean against the front of it directly in front of Tanaka.
"I am to report to you as squad leader for the duration of a mission assigned to us by the Office of Naval Intelligence," she said, voice still thoroughly businesslike.
Locke decided that he needed to break that facade. "So, Tanaka, you grew up on Minab, right, the outer colony?"
"Correct, boss," Tanaka replied. Locke supposed that would have to do in place of "sir."
Tanaka spoke with what was called a "Harvest accent," common to many outer colonists. Harvest had been an agrarian world before the Covenant glassed it. It was the most successful outer colony in UEG history and had featured heavily in ONI propaganda about the prosperity of life in the outer colonies. Unfortunately, said ubiquitous propaganda had led to the association of the "Harvest accent" with farming in general and, by extension, poor education and inferior intellect. It was an asinine and utterly illogical extension, of course, but it was one that had existed for millenia and didn't seem likely to go away any time soon. Locke decided to zero in on it.
"So, Ta-NAW-ka," he said, intentionally exaggerating the pronunciation in a butchering of the female Spartan's accent, "how exactly did an Innie brat like you make it into the Spartans?"
Tanaka's jaw clenched and Locke could tell she desperately wanted to pummel him into the floor. She kept her eyes dead ahead as she responded.
"Boss, I have never been associated with any Insurrectionist forces. I am and have always been a loyal citizen of the United Earth Government and have served the United Nations Space Command faithfully since my enlistment," she said.
Locke sighed internally. She had technically kept her cool and responded appropriately and logically, but he would still have to tread carefully around her if he wanted to maintain unit cohesion. He supposed it was the best he could hope for. If they had met 40 years ago she probably would have been an Innie and he probably would have only ever seen her through the sights of his rifle.
"Good," Locke said. "I expect nothing less from a fellow Spartan," Locke walked back around his desk and sat down, gesturing for Tanaka to take a seat. She did so, her back straight as ever. "Let's discuss your equipment. As you know, in deference to the Spartans' role of morale boosters, Spartan IVs are encouraged to customize the appearance of their armor. This makes them more distinctive and, ideally, more inspirational. I find the design you came up with...interesting, to say the least."
Said design was one of the oddest armor configurations Locke had ever seen. MJOLNIR armor was composed of several layers. The most visible from the surface was a solid layer of black CNT armor, covered with several ceramic/alloy plates that offered additional protection and housed the systems responsible for the armor's more exotic functions, such as the energy shield. Most Spartans limited the amount of plates on the armor to reduce weight and maximize mobility and flexibility.
Spartan Tanaka's armor featured plates covering the entirety of her lower legs, her kneecaps, and half of her upper legs ending 15cm from her codpiece. There were two armor plates covering the sides of her lower torso, separated by a narrower plate that started just above the codpiece, went up between the side plates, and spread out in a heart shape that ended 2cm below her shoulders, which featured plates shaped like small pauldrons. Emblazoned on the heart shape was a stylized raptor with spread wings. The raptor was blood red in color, a contrast to the armor plates, which were a dark blue. Her back was likewise thoroughly covered.
"I chose the design I felt would best combine practicality with inspirational aesthetics, boss," Tanaka replied.
"I see. And the visual resemblance to a certain fictional superheroine, most popular in the outer colonies, is entirely coincidental," Locke said, deadpan.
"Yes, boss. Complete coincidence," Tanaka responded, equally deadpan.
Locke looked back down at the file detailing her armor. "Well you've certainly put the additional weight to good use. Says here you have an energy shield 200% more powerful than standard and...'limited hard light projection'?"
"Yes, boss. I can project a vertical wall of hard-light in front of me for about 30 seconds before I need to let it recharge, which takes about 5 minutes. It's not invincible, but it would take several direct hits from a heavy weapon to break it," Tanaka explained.
"Mhmm," Locke observed. "Big on armor, are you?"
"What can I say, boss? I feel naked without some protection," Tanaka joked. Locke was surprised. Maybe he was having a positive impression after all. Or maybe she was just screwing with him some more.
"Naturally. Says here you also removed the built in maneuvering jets. You won't have the emergency thrusters or limited hovering that lighter suits are capable of."
"No, sir," she replied. "I don't like to avoid my enemies. I walk straight toward them. They run from me."
Locke raised his eyebrow. Tanaka was, of course, speaking metaphorically. No soldier that literally walked into walls of fire would live long enough to become a Spartan IV. He wasn't sure if her attitude was cockiness or sheer pants-crapping insanity. If it was the latter, he might actually be able to use her.
Tanaka certainly had the build of a human tank. Spartan IVs were all exceptionally tall, a benefit of the augmentations, but Tanaka was easily over 2 meters, a full 7 feet 2 inches in armor if Locke had to guess. Her build was one he would politely describe as that of a body-builder or a linebacker. He definitely had to watch how, where, and if he should piss her off.
"Well, you've certainly picked the right weapon for your mindset," Locke stated. "You're Squad Automatic Weapon can fire M118 FMJ-AP rounds at 920 rounds per minute from a 128 round drum magazine. More than enough to send most bad guys running for the hills."
Tanaka grunted in response, a smile tugging at her lips.
Locke glanced back at his datapad, and decided he had seen enough.
"I'm confident you'll do the Spartans proud. Report to briefing room 3A on deck 48 at 0600 tomorrow. I'll brief you on our mission there. Dismissed, Spartan."
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Squadmate Number 2, Olympia Vale, entered with a much more relaxed, albeit still professional, stride than Tanaka had. She and Locke exchanged salutes, hers being a genuine show of respect rather than a gesture of defiance. Locke felt she would be much easier to deal with than Tanaka had been, and internally sighed in relief.
Vale was shorter than Tanaka, clocking in at 1.8m, or about 6 foot 10 inches. Her build was that of a runner or swimmer. Being a Spartan, however, she was still covered in augmented muscle. Locke had no doubt she could lift a Hog SUV over her head if the mood struck.
After the introductions, Locke handed her his spare datapad, already opened to a specific document.
"Tell me what this is, if you would," he said.
Vale took the pad and her eyes widened in surprise.
"It's a piece of Sangheili poetry. Specifically, it's an epic poem about Fal 'Chavamee. He was the first Arbiter to be declared a traitor to the Covenant. Before him the title 'Arbiter' could only be claimed by a Sangheili noble who had united at least 10 clans under his banner. With his fall from grace, the Covenant religious leadership, the San 'Shyuum species, declared the title 'Arbiter' to be one of shame. An Arbiter's only chance at reclaiming his lost honor was to die in glorious battle as soon as possible. Roughly translated, the text begins, 'This is the song of the villain Fal 'Chavamee, traitor to the Covenant and defiler of the Great Journey-'" Vale explained, before Locke interrupted her.
"Thank you, Vale, that's enough," Locke said, taking back the compad. "You know, that text was in an obscure Sangheili dialect few people even know about."
"Yes, sir. I've kept up to date on all available information about the Sangheili," Vale said proudly.
"Clearly," Locke replied, feeling ambivalent about her enthusiasm. He was fluent in several Sangheili dialects himself from his days as a direct ONI agent. However, his purpose in studying them was to better understand his enemy; he had read The Art of War. Vale, on the other hand, seemed a bit more optimistic than he.
"Tell me, Vale, do you believe long term peace is possible with the Sangheili?" Locke asked.
"Of course, sir," she responded immediately. "The Sangheili are people, like any other sapient species. They committed horrible crimes during the Human-Covenant War, sure, but they only did so because they were misled. Their San 'Shyuum prophets saw humanity as a threat to their control of the Covenant and so declared them abominations before the Forerunner's and invented stories of humans desecrating sacred Forerunner religious sites. Now that most Sangheili know the truth, and the San 'Shyuum have been removed from power following the Great Schism, peace is entirely possible, even probable. The Arbiter himself is a strong advocate for peace with humanity, and-"
"I am well aware of the arguments for peace, and the excuses people have made to justify the Sangheili atrocities," Locke interrupted, struggling to hold his anger in check.
Vale paled a bit, but refused to lose eye contact. Clearly, she would not be shaken from her delusions by mere words. Locke decided to move on.
"I find your armor design interesting," he said. Said armor contained far fewer plates than on Tanaka's suit, Vale clearly valuing speed and maneuverability over sheer damage resistance. Most interesting, though, was the design of the plates themselves. Rather than the flat, bulky plates of Tanaka's suit, Vale's were bulbous, possessing curves that resembled the organic appearance of Sangheili equipment. Even the armor's color, a deep burgundy, resembled the colors now worn by the Arbiter's forces.
"Yes, sir, I find Sangheili aesthetics fascinating," she replied, not bothering to deny the inspiration.
Locke frowned. It was well known that Olympia Vale was on the fast track to becoming an official diplomatic envoy to the Sangheili once her time in the Spartan IV program was up. In fact, it was rumored that the only reason she was a Spartan at all was because the Sangheili respected military proficiency above all else, and the Arbiter's followers had developed a strong veneration for the human supersoldiers. That was not to say she was incapable. Her performance as a marine showed that she more than earned her augmentations. Her mindset did bother Locke, however.
"I'm going to be blunt with you, Vale," he said. "I'm questioning whether a person with such...optimistic ideas about the galaxy can handle the type of combat that will be demanded of a Spartan IV."
Vale's face immediately turned to stone, her eyes taking on an intensity that took Locke almost completely off guard. "You don't have to question my willingness to get my hands bloody, sir. I lost family during the Human-Covenant War. I may hope for peace, but I know what happens when atrocities go unanswered. Point me to an enemy, sir, and I'll make them wish they had never even heard of humanity before filling their guts with lead and letting them drown in their own blood!"
She's going to fit right in on Sanghelios, Locke thought to himself. He would have to be careful what information he allowed her access to, but handled properly she would be a powerful asset.
He looked back at his datapad. "Says here that you have become exceptionally proficient at using the built in maneuvering jets," he said.
"Yes sir," Vale responded, returning to her more restrained appearance. "I've discovered that if I keep the rear thrusters going at a certain level I can increase my top speed greatly. It takes careful footwork, I've gotten good use out of my sprinting experience, but I've been clocked at going 80km per hour," she said with considerable pride. Locke thought she had every right to be proud. Such speed would put her on par with 087, Blue Team's speedster. "I've even managed to achieve a brief period of flight, crossing 10 meters without touching the ground," she concluded.
He thanked her for her time, told her where and when the mission briefing would be, and dismissed her.
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Last but not least, Squadmate Number 3, Edward Buck. If any of his new subordinates was a genuine threat to his mission, it was this one.
Buck and Locke traded salutes, but also followed it up with a handshake. The slightly shorter career soldier immediately understood the challenge of strength, and returned Locke's vice grip with one of his own. Strong as he was, Buck was the first to show pain on his face, and thus lost the challenge. He laughed and shook his head.
"Strong SOB, aren't ya?" he asked Locke.
"Damn right," he responded. They took their places on their respective sides of Locke's desk.
"So, Buck, went from an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper to a Spartan. What's the matter, got a problem with self-loathing?" Locke asked, gesturing to the ODST tattoo still visible on Buck's forearm. Locke was referring to the long standing, bitter, and largely one-sided rivalry between the ODSTs and the Spartans. It had started when ONI had revealed the existence of the Spartan IIs in a desperate bid to salvage plummeting national morale as the Covenant glassed colony after colony. Prior to this the ODSTs had been considered the best of the best, the ultimate human soldiers. To have these faceless supersoldiers steal their thunder was unbearable for them. Combine that with the fact that a lot of funding that would otherwise have gone to the ODSTs was being channeled into supplying and supporting the Spartans, and a rather serious inter-service rivalry was born. Not that the Spartan IIs were aware of this. They were too busy winning the war and not having personalities of their own. The enmity toward Spartans had, unfortunately, continued into the Spartan IV program. Thus it was odd to find an ODST willingly joining the hated enemy of his old unit.
"Yeah, I never gave a crap about any of that 'I hate Spartans, they suck dicks' spiel that a lot of my brothers spouted all the time," Buck replied in a casual tone of voice. "Way I see it, anyone that fights alongside me is my brother. Or sister."
"Huh," Locke replied, "Way I hear it, that attitude disappears pretty quick when talking about ONI."
Buck didn't even flinch. "Only the asshole ones. Just because they're my brothers don't mean some of them aren't bad to the core. And some of them need to be taken down. You know, the kind of domestic enemies we all swore to fight," Buck said, looking directly into Locke's eyes.
"Really. Seems like a strange perspective for someone who married an ONI agent," Locke said, referring to Buck's wife, Veronica Dare.
Buck's eyes went colder, but again, he didn't flinch. "I said there were exceptions, didn't I? Anyway, while she doesn't tell me stuff I ain't supposed to hear, I pick up enough to have more reasons than most to think ill of the Office of Naval Intelligence."
"Right. Strange, though, that she decided not to take your last name. Little disagreement there?" Locke dug.
"Veronica lost her family in the war. All of it. She couldn't even save any of their stuff 'cause the Covenant glassed her homeworld. Her name's all she's got left of 'em, and I wasn't about to take that away from her," he replied, his voice completely even. "And with all due respect, sir, if you want to get under my skin, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."
Locke nodded. Buck definitely didn't trust him, didn't like him, and probably never would. With his years of combat experience and personal connection to ONI, he could be a major problem if he decided to be. Still, Locke was stuck with him. He decided to move onto more productive territory.
"I see from your file you designed your armor to resemble ODST gear. The bulky chest piece looks the same, the combat knife is mounted on the shoulder like an ODSTs, hell, your helmet's practically a carbon copy from a visual standpoint," Locke observed.
"That's right," Buck said, silently agreeing to move to a topic that wouldn't make the air spontaneously combust from sheer tension. "I decided there was no point in trying to knock down bullcrap walls if I wasn't going to go all the way with it. Of course, that don't mean I wasn't about to take advantage of the bells and whistles Spartan armor has to offer."
Locke looked back at his datapad. "Ah, yes, the active-cloaking device."
"Damn right," Buck enthused. "Can't tell ya how many nightmares cloaked Sangheli gave me during the war. Figured it was time for a little payback. Cloak's not perfect, though. Can't move too quick or the whole 'light-bending' effect is ruined. Plus the thing is murder on power. Keep it on too long or use it too much and I risk burning out the circuitry, and that is not something I'm keen on happening in the field."
Locke nodded again, being familiar with the limitations of human stealth technology. Combined with his suppressed submachine gun, a holdover from his days as an ODST, the active cloak made Buck a formidable stealth fighter.
Figuring enough was enough, Locke informed Buck of the coming briefing, and dismissed him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Locke's datapad chirped, indicating a new message. He picked it up and discovered an update from the quartermaster saying that Locke's own custom armor was finished being upgraded. Good.
Locke's armor differed from that of most any other Spartan IV. Like other examples of MJOLNIR, his had the visible layer of black CNT armor covered in plates. Unlike other examples, the plates on his armor were made of a unique material. They were not as durable as the plates in, say, Tanaka's armor, but they were far more flexible and weighed significantly less. This allowed for more coverage without sacrificing speed and mobility. Also unlike standard MJOLNIR, the strength amplifying functionality of his suit was far beyond what most Spartan IVs had access to. While wearing it, Locke should be able to overpower even a mighty Spartan II. His maneuvering thrusters were also above standard; while they wouldn't give him Vale's maneuverability, they would still allow him to move in ways a Spartan II could not. ONI had pulled a lot of strings to get him all of this. When it came time to confront Blue Team, Locke would have some surprises for them.
If you did not factor in external equipment, the Spartan IIs were superior in every way to the Spartan IVs. The Spartan IIs biochemical, genetic, and cybernetic augmentations were superior to the Spartan IVs comparatively stripped down upgrades; they were also far more expensive and required a much narrower set of genetic parameters for the candidate, which was why the Spartan IIs augments weren't used anymore. Not that that would help Locke in this mission. Also not helping Locke was the matter of training. The Spartan IIs had been conscripted at age 6, trained to be soldiers until they received their augmentations at age 14, and sent out to fight for humanity ever since. Their entire lives had been devoted to refining the art of spec ops combat. Any doubt or hesitance had been burned away from them decades ago. The Spartan IVs, on the other hand, were recruited from the various branches of the UNSC military. They had relatively normal lives, and thus all of the distractions, uncertainties, and emotional baggage that went along with being human. Looking only at the soldiers themselves, Locke's squad was thoroughly outmatched.
However, Locke did have a number of advantages. Blue Team was still using the MJOLNIR Mark VI armor system first designed nearly 6 years ago. The reason for this was because the Mark VI was designed specifically to be used by soldiers with Spartan II augmentations. Anyone else, even a Spartan IV, that tried to wear one would quickly break every bone in their body as the suit reacted faster to their muscle impulses than they could control. Too much force, too much speed. Any upgraded armor would only ever be used by one of these 4 survivors, and that just wasn't cost effective enough for the increasingly cash-strapped UEG. The Mark VIII had been designed specifically for the Spartan IVs and as such had been built to make up for their inferior augmentations. Each suit had also been tailor made to fit the fighting skills of its user while Blue Teams' armor, 058's optical gear excepted, was completely uniform. The Spartan IIs' armor did not have maneuvering jets, hard-light projection, or active-cloaking tech built in. Their energy shields were also weaker than those worn by Locke's squad and the armor would require more regular maintenance. Blue Team was still stronger, faster, tougher, and had superior reflexes, but Fireteam Osiris would have more tricks.
Also of note was the fact that all of the members of Blue Team used outdated weaponry. 058's sniper rifle had been obsolete for years; it possessed a 4 round magazine as opposed to the Series 5's 8 and it's rate of fire was lower. 087's shotgun was an older model; it could only hold 8 rounds at once compared to the newer model's 16, had a shorter effective range, and was pump-action compared to the now-standard semi-automatic fire. 104's DMR was inferior to Locke's own BR-55; it had shorter range and lower stopping power as well as being locked into single-shot semi automatic fire, compared to the BR-55's burst fire capability. In fact the DMR was being phased out of regular use when the Human-Covenant War began 33 years before. Finally, 117's MA5C assault rifle was inferior to the current MA5D model in both firepower and accuracy. The only explanation Locke could imagine for why the Spartan IIs would stick to inferior weapons was familiarity. It was not uncommon for soldiers to become so attached to their main weapon that they resist upgrading, after all. Locke had already made sure that his squad would use state-of-the-art weaponry. They would need the advantage.
Locke looked back at the image of his own armor. Like his squadmates, he had designed its appearance himself. It was primarily a dark blue, nearly black, with some areas being a lighter gray. It was a color scheme well-suited to night time operation. Following the stealth theme, his helmet featured an unusually small faceplate, covering only the area around his eyes. It gave the appearance of someone wearing a balaclava or a ninja mask. Not that it would obscure his vision; the camera system and internally projected heads-up-display would give him an unobstructed view of the battlefield. Most importantly, on one of the gray portions was emblazoned a very particular symbol: a circle containing a pyramidal shape, which itself contained a black circle on a white background. The all-seeing eye of ONI. If everyone else would never let him forget where he came from, he would turn it into a mark of pride.
Locke closed down his datapad and leaned back in his seat. This would be one hell of a mission. But he could do it. He would have to.
So, yeah, more deviations from canon here. I'm trying to expand and explore each of the characters in ways I feel the game should have. However, I am still pretty new at this, so please, tell me if I screw up.
Now that the introductions are finished the plot is about to really get started. Since, again, I'm new at this, I'll be taking my time to really work out how it'll develop. So, basically, expect more time between updates. Just...be patient with me, alright guys?
Note: I hope I'm communicating my idea of Locke's personality effectively. The man is not necessarily a natural leader. He started out this fic as a lone wolf. He commanded people as an ONI agent, but I figure he could rely on the intimidation factor of ONI to maintain discipline back then. Such will not be the case with Fireteam Osiris. He knows how to get people to obey him, but he doesn't know how to inspire them. Also, he's kind of an asshole.
Note: The whole custom armor thing is probably the biggest deviation from the hard military/sci fi feel that the original Halo novels established. I just couldn't help myself. After seeing the unique visual design of the Spartans' armor in Halo 5 proper I started imagining the ways custom designs could reflect the characters' personalities and felt it would be great stuff from a storytelling standpoint. I'll try to keep the strains on suspension of disbelief to a minimum, I promise.
Note: Linda developing a spy ring when she was 5 is canon according to the Halo wiki. I figured continuing that idea here would help flesh out her character, as well as explain how Blue Team manages to stay hidden as long as they will in this fic.
Note: If you don't know why I had Locke say "Sweet Christmas," just ask the nearest available Marvel Comics fanboy. He should be able to fill you in :)
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly