Chapter CXXXVI: The Flawless and Company
February 10, 2545 (UNSC Calendar)/
UNSC Flawless, in orbit above Reach, Epsilon Eridani System
"I'm from the old school. It's more expensive than your new school."
I had never seen anything like it. Nope, that's a lie. I had seen something like it. I just hadn't ever been inside of one. A UNSC carrier was a thing to look at and admire. The Flawless wasn't any different. From the moment I stepped on board my new ship I knew it was different. The hallways were wider and the ceilings higher. The other main difference is that the lights were dimmer. Since some of the carrier's sections were rarely walked through they were kept dimmer, save up on energy.
Clocking at just under three kilometers in length, the Flawless could give any CCS-class battlecruiser a run for its money. With the big-ass MAC cannon that it sported at the front and the hundreds of Archer missiles, I would put my money on the carrier any time. Not only could she give out a beating, she could also take one. The thick Titanium-A armor plating and compartmentalized nature of the ship meant that it would be nearly impossible to completely destroy us.
Of course, with damaged thrusters and enough time we were dead fish in the water, even if we were big fish.
Let me tell you more about the ship. It was fucking huge and it was fucking huge. That's probably all you need to know about a UNSC carrier. That it was fucking huge. Well, let me elaborate a little bit on that one. The first carriers were sea-borne vessels, designed to carry aircraft and maybe a small contingent to defend their ships. Once we got to space, carriers were pretty much troop transport ships with little armament or armor. As time went by they got more guns and more plating, but their role didn't change that much. With the insurrection carriers were turned into a hybrid between a cruiser and a traditional carrier. Somebody decided that it would be smart to slap some armor and get bigger guns on it. But that wasn't it, oh no it wasn't. Carriers were also given a larger air wing. A much larger air wing. So imagine having a death machine three clicks long with heavy armor, heavy weapons, and a few dozen fighters whose sole purpose was to protect it.
And I'm not even getting into the escort ships, but I will later.
Pavel and I arrived along with a bunch of recruits. The Flawless had been active for a few years now; it had a very illustrious career and had participated in a few engagements that ended in UNSC victories. Sure, it had seen a bunch of defeats as well, but the ship and its battle group did well in them. The regiment on board the ship was pretty badass as well. Consisting of two separate Marine Expeditionary Units, or MEUs for short, the ship's infantry complement was a force to be reckoned with under any circumstances. It was to be my new unit. I was looking forward to seeing Rob and Snark again. Hell, I would even take Grigori.
"Well, here's the ship," Pavel said finally. "Feel free to look around."
"Can't," I replied. "Gotta get a medical. Been a while since I got a full check."
"With all those injuries you get, I'd say you're lying."
"Hey," I complained. "All those are just to see if said injuries are healed. This is a full medical check."
"Whatever, have fun."
I pouted. "You're not gonna walk me there?"
"You know Frank, sometimes I find it hard to believe that you're thirty years old."
"Yeah, rub it in my face, will ya," I groaned. "You're close to that mark to, so don't get all dickish."
Pavel sighed. "Man, I'm tired. You can get there by yourself."
"Fine," I ceded. "Take my stuff with you."
"We're not rooming together anymore."
That certainly gave me a pause. "What."
"Yeah, it'll take some time for me to get used to it," he told me. "But there's nothing I can do about it."
"But we're both noncoms," I said, sounding as if it made perfect sense.
"Yeah, most of the guys in the platoon are," he shrugged. "You're not in the same room."
"Sucks."
Pavel rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're like a five year old, we'll be on cryo for the most part."
As always, Pavel had a good point.
"Fine," I said once more. "See you in a while."
"Just be at the pre-drop room in time, lieutenant is gonna be giving a little speech."
"He knows you calling it a speech?"
"Nah," Pavel shrugged. "See you then."
I waved goodbye at him and slung my duffel bag over my shoulder. It was bursting to the brim with new fatigues, boots, and other military-issue clothing. It felt considerably heavier than my previous one. Most people were already at their stations, well, most swabbies were. The Marine complement was heading down to their quarters and all that. A few might be getting inspections like I was, but for the most part everybody was meeting up with friends and catching up. I took my time with the walk, trying to memorize the route. On my way there I could only think that I was being given good luck for all the crap that I had gone through in the past year. Hanna was a medic in one of the on board regiments, so we would be able to keep things up.
Damn. I would go crazy without her.
Didn't seem to trouble you so much in Paris VI.
I studiously ignored Schitzo and moved on. I only stopped to examine a couple of the message boards on the wall. I felt like I was doing my senior year on a new school. Everybody knew each other except for me. I had the advantage of having three and a half friends with me, so it didn't worry me too much. When I finally reached the med bay. It was much larger than the one on the Inconvenience. It had to be with the size of the marine complement on board.
"Hello, can I help you with something?" asked an orderly.
"Here for my full checkup."
"You new here, I take it?"
"Yeah," I replied.
The orderly shrugged. "So is our doctor. Well, relatively new, only a year here."
I nodded absently. I honestly didn't care.
"Stay here, he'll be here in a moment."
I nodded once more and sat down on one of the chairs. There weren't any other guys in here to get checkups, so I had all the room for myself. I guess that it was better that way. I wouldn't feel weird not talking to another chatty marine or sailor here. I waited for about five minutes before a doctor emerged from the bay.
"Sergeant Castillo?"
"That's me."
"Wait, Sergeant Castillo?" the doctor repeated, sounding astounded.
I took a good, hard look at the doctor. He was wearing a white lab coat over his navy uniform. He had golden oak leaves on his collar. The insignia of a lieutenant commander. What drew my attention wasn't his oak leaves, it was his face. He had big blue eyes that reminded me of somebody, but it wasn't him. I searched through my memories until I finally realized who this guy was.
"Doctor Vinter?" I asked finally.
He smiled. "I thought you didn't recognize me."
"I barely did," I admitted. The only reason I had remembered him was because of his eyes. He had the same eyes that his daughter did, but he didn't have her freckles. "Took me a while."
"How are you Frank?"
"I'm fine," I told him. "How's Mrs. Vinter?"
"Very well, I'm glad to say. Her hip still hurts occasionally, but otherwise she's fine."
"I'm glad," I told him with all honesty. I stood up and followed him inside. "How about…Astrid, was it?" I knew her name full well, but I didn't want to come off as a little bit creepy for that.
Vinter laughed and opened a door for me. "You know, you might've saved my wife, but you made my daughter want to join the Corps."
I whistled. "Damn, sorry about that."
He smiled. "Not to worry. I convinced her to go into med school so that she could join as a surgeon."
I smiled back at Vinter. "Good parenting."
"Thanks, I do my best. Now, if you'll strip down to your underwear and stand over there please…"
The medical was pretty standard. I got scanned about a dozen times for different diseases and injuries as well as tested on my reflexes and the like. I started worrying about the scans, wondering if dense muscles and hardened bones would show up as anomalies, but I figured that if ONI was something, it was thorough. Ha, ironic, considering they really dropped the ball when playing mad scientists with me. Doctor Vinter, Sigfrid, chatted a little bit about his family and new life on Reach while I stood still and allowed myself to be poked and probed. Eventually I was told to look at a set of lights as they flashed, which was ridiculously stupid. The human eye is attracted to movement and light, even an idiot would glance at them involuntarily. Well, maybe that was the point of that test.
"That it?" I asked.
"Yeah, the newcomers get to do an endurance test, but you're a veteran."
"I am," I agreed, smiling at the compliment. "Hey Doc, how come you joined the military?"
Vinter tossed me my pants and shirt and started talking. "We came here as refugees, but you already know that. My wife had a few acquaintances living in Reach and they helped set us up with a home. I tried getting a job as a doctor but for some reason that astounds me, I didn't."
"I thought that doctors had guaranteed employment."
"Yeah, me too," he confessed. "But I was wrong, and my only chance was to join the military."
"Why did you go into the Navy and not the Army?" I asked him. "I mean, you could've been assigned to a local base and stayed home with your family."
"Yeah…the move caused some…tension between my wife and me. We both decided that it would probably best if we took some time away from each other. I didn't want a divorce or separation, so I got this job. Hey, works for me."
I looked away awkwardly. "Sorry for asking."
"Don't worry about it. Well, you're all set."
"Thanks, I hope I don't see you that much."
"Me too," he replied. "Maybe I'll buy you dinner sometime, as thanks for saving my wife."
"I couldn't," I started saying.
"I'm not doing it for you," Doc Vinter interrupted. "I'm doing it for my own selfish reasons."
I chuckled lightly and patted his shoulder. "Fine, bye Doc."
"Bye, and call me Sigfrid, doc's just annoying."
I nodded and waved at him before leaving. I made sure to grab my duffel bag and walked towards the nearest elevators. As ODSTs, our quarters were as close to the Drop Bay as possible. The Drop Bay was, of course, located in the bottom of the ship. This being a carrier we had enough drop tubes to launch three platoons, an undersized company, at a time, but there was only one platoon on board the ship right now. On my way down I wondered how everybody would react to a new squad member. I know that I probably shouldn't care too much about it, but humans need to be accepted into groups, we're just too damn social.
The elevator finally dinged and I walked out. I couldn't help but notice that there was no music of any sort playing on the speakers. Suddenly I felt a pang of pain. I wondered what Eliza's last thoughts were as her systems died with the ship and most everyone on board. I wondered if AIs got their own memorials same as us. Sure, they were programmed, but they were also sentient. I'd have to ask Cam about it next time I saw her. She was the kind of person that would know that.
I didn't realize that I was smiling until someone pointed it out to me.
"What's so funny?"
It wasn't a particularly rude way of asking, except that it was.
"I don't think that's any of your business," I told the man in question. He was yet another boneheaded ODST that was so full of himself that if you poked his skin he would burst. In short, he was eerily similar to me.
The man was wearing a tight ODST shirt that clearly showed his well-toned body. I'm not saying that I spent an overly long amount of time staring at his pecs, but as a man and a Helljumper I quickly took him in and assessed him as a possible threat. I was glad that I was taller, even if only a little bit, nothing makes a man more jealous than being in front of someone half an inch taller than him. Believe me, I know.
"No please, tell me what the hell is so funny."
I dropped my duffel bag on the floor and erected my back and shoulders. "None of your business," I repeated, more forcefully. "Now, if you'd be so kind to point me to the Drop Room."
"Ah, so you're one of the new guys." He was now smiling, probably thought that he could take advantage of me because I was new. Had this been anything but the military, he might've been able to.
"Listen…" I started.
"Corporal Royce," he said automatically, realizing his mistake the moment he gave his rank. He paled slightly when he saw the big shit-eating grin on my face.
"Corporal Royce," I went on. "My name is Gunnery Sergeant Francisco Castillo and I am ordering you to personally escort me to the pre-drop room."
"Yes, sir."
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Royce said nothing and instead turned around, presumably walking towards the room in question.
"What was that Corporal?"
"Nothing, Gunnery Sergeant."
"Gunny will do," I told him. I hated being called by my full rank. Besides, the term Gunny was used by people close to gunnery sergeants. It was a symbolic gesture that I forgave him.
That didn't necessarily mean that I wouldn't give him shit for this if I could.
I was about to start teasing the man when Rob emerged from a nearby door. "Sarge?" he asked, as if he didn't believe it. "Sarge!"
"Good to see you Rob," I smiled.
"Same here," he replied, walking up to me and shaking my hand vigorously while slapping me in the arm. "I see you met our resident asshole."
"From the looks of it, you met him a while ago," Royce deadpanned.
I smirked at that and put my arm around my friend's shoulders. "So how you been?"
"Can't complain," he shrugged in reply. "Things were tough after the Inconvenience was gone, and we could've used you here with us."
"I told you guys before I left. I really needed that leave."
Robert glanced quickly at Corporal Royce. "Yeah, how was it?"
"Very…educative."
"Good, good. I'm glad."
"So am I," I assured him, patting him on the shoulder. While he didn't know the full details of my hallucinations and problems, he did know that it was pretty serious and that I could potentially break down during combat. Even if he didn't like me he didn't want that to happen. "Now, off to the pre-drop room."
"We call it the briefing room here," he told me, his Scottish accent heavy in his words. "Better than the one we never had on the Inconvenience."
I chuckled. "Agreed. Tell me, why exactly do we need a briefing right now?"
"Lieutenant's like that. We're getting two new guys and she's gonna give you two the rundown of how things work. She's also gonna remind us that she's in charge."
"She?" I asked. "I was under the impression that our lieutenant was a he."
Rob shrugged as we walked. "Pavel implied it, didn't he?"
I shook my head. "No, but he didn't refute me when I said he."
Robert laughed. "He's been doing that for a while now, misleading us. It amuses him."
"It amuses all of us," Royce said.
"Yeah, when you're not on the receiving end;" Rob told him.
I decided to change topics. "So, Corporal," I started, emphasizing his rank so that he was very clear on who was in command (and in control) here, "what's your role here?"
"First squad, regular rifleman."
"Every marine's a rifleman," I reminded him. "No specialties?"
"Not really."
"This is a big platoon Sarge," Rob told me. "No need to have eight guys each specializing in something."
"Yeah, I'm gonna miss that."
"How exactly did your little unit work?" Royce asked me, his voice dropping the hostility and turning curious. "We've heard so many crazy stories."
"Reaper is, was, a very special outfit." I was going to say more but at that moment we walked through a set of doors and into the briefing room. There were about twenty Helljumpers inside the room, all of them chatting with one another. I looked around, searching for Snark or Grigori, eventually spotting them talking in a corner.
"Oi," Rob called to them, eliciting curious glances form the rest of the ODSTs. My new brothers in arms if you will.
"Sarge?" Snark asked, coming over. "Great to see you!"
"Likewise," I replied, shaking his hand. "Been treated well?"
"Can't complain."
"You?" I asked Grigori. "You look as you always do."
He shrugged dismissively. "I liked Reaper Squad better. It was smaller."
"Doesn't that mean that you have to get to know people better?" I asked him jokingly.
"Yeah, but I don't get questioned as much."
I shrugged. He had a point. "Where's Pavel?"
"Should be here any minute, probably composing a message to his wife."
"Say what you will about him, he's a good husband," Snark complimented.
"Yeah," I agreed, thinking about marriage.
"Oh please," Schitzo mocked. "You're a slut. You can't even stay faithful to your girlfriend."
I twitched at the comment and ignored it. I looked around the room, examining it. It was basically a miniature movie theater. There were five rows of soft, cushy chairs, each one taller than the last. In the front there was a small podium with a big-ass screen behind it and a holo-table next to it. It looked more like something that naval pilots would use. Perhaps it had been repurposed for infantry troops. I was wondering why exactly they had made the room like this when our fearless leader walked inside the room, followed by Pavel and another man.
"Officer on deck!" someone shouted.
It had been ages since I had heard that call, but I was a marine and had the response drilled into my brain. I jumped up and stood at attention as a woman in her mid-thirties walked inside. Tall and proud-looking she reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"As you were," she said.
I opened my mouth but Pavel stopped me, sitting next to me. "It's not her," he whispered into my ear. "Sure sounds similar."
Sexy Voice had been the leader of an ODST unit that had worked with us in Aztlan, this little planet full of jungles that had been one of the toughest missions in my life. Getting a fucking package out from an ONI base and then hauling ass over miles upon miles of jungle with the equivalent of a company on my ass. Lieutenant Sexy Voice had disappeared during a shelling or something like that. I had never actually confirmed her KIA. I suddenly realized that I had left her behind back then.
"I'll tell you the story later."
The lieutenant stood in the podium and cleared her throat theatrically, shutting up everyone in the room. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Lieutenant Tahlia Hayes, in this platoon I am the closest thing that you have to God."
I smiled, remembering a similar speech that I had made. Pavel probably smiled too, because he discretely poked my ribs with his elbow. I tensed but otherwise said nothing.
"Good to see you all again, I was half-expecting someone to die of an alcoholic congestion." There was some chuckling in response to the joke. "Well, since that's not the case I guess you live to fight another day." She paused before going on. "Our newest mission is the usual. Patrolling a high-risk sector and aiding any colony that might find itself under attack. That being said, we have two new members in our unit. Gunnery Sergeant Francisco Castillo, who I'm sure you've all heard about."
I raised my arm so that everybody could see who I was. It felt kind of weird having everybody turn to face me and inspect me.
"He will be put in command of Second Squad, Klaus will be stepping down form that position. If the exploits of Reaper Squad are remotely true, I'm sure that he'll be an adequate leader."
"Nobody could make stories that crazy," someone called out, getting laughter in response.
Pavel smiled. "Just because you're stupid and lack an imagination doesn't mean everybody does," he shouted back. He seemed satisfied with himself when the rest of the platoon ooed and oh snapped at the other Helljumper. I raised an eyebrow. We'd never had this kind of ribbing on Reaper. At least not on this scale.
"Quiet down," Lieutenant Hayes ordered. Her voice was calm but forceful. Very professional if you ask me. "Our other transfer is Private Miranda Novak. She's fresh out of bootcamp, no combat experience." Her tone changed slightly. "No hazing whatsoever. If I hear anything about it, then you are royally fucked. One last thing, Second Squad will be doing combat simulations after we jump. Dismissed."
Combat simulations?
I decided to can that thought and stood up as Pavel did. I decided that it was probably for the best if I followed his lead until I got acquainted with everyone here. He walked towards one of the two exits, motioning with his head for me to follow him. He stopped and turned around stretching his neck. "Private!" he called out.
"Yeah, new girl, get over here."
Miranda Novak walked towards us and stood at ease, looking up expectantly at Pavel. She looked very Easter European, with darkish skin and black hair. She had a nose that seemed a little bit too wide and a scar running the length of her right cheek. Oh, and she was very pretty too, but then again, everyone seemed to be nowadays.
"Good to meet you," Pavel told her, offering her his hand. "This here is Gunnery Sergeant Castillo, your new squad leader."
"Pleasure," I said.
"We have some time before the jump and combat practice," Pavel went on. "I'll give you two a quick tour of the ship."
I shrugged. "Be my guest." I turned to face Private Novak as Pavel waved at us to follow him. "What's your story, Private?"
"What do you mean Gunny?"
"Why'd you join?" I made the question a simpler one. "Shits and giggles? Family tradition? Maybe you had no other job options?"
Private Novak looked uncomfortable at the question and scratched her arm nervously while looking away from me. Pavel shook his head in front of me but otherwise said nothing.
"Where are you from?"
"Emerald Cove," she replied evenly.
"I see," I nodded. "How old were you when you left?"
"Sixteen."
"Which would make you nineteen right about now. I take it you waited to turn eighteen before trying to join."
She said nothing, only nodded.
"So wh-"
"I'd rather we not talk about this, Gunnery Sergeant."
I nodded. "Fine, have it your way."
That was Pavel's cue. "You've seen the lower deck, we have the briefing room as well as the Drop Bay down there. Nothing of interest in that deck unless you count makeout spots. Frank."
"Yeah," I laughed. "Already taking the information in."
Pavel smiled back and moved on, giving us a quick tour of the enormous ship while explaining the layout in very general terms. "Every deck has at least one armory. Most of them are pretty small, size of a garage. There are five main armories in the larger decks, multiple floors, several racks of weapons, ammo, and the like. As the ODST complement on board we get out own specialized armory. We have the newest toys and a lot of them too." He paused and looked around.
"Private, what weapon do you specialize with?"
Damn, that's my question.
"Um, MA5 series, of course," Novak quickly said. "I was given a DMR on combat exercises."
"We'll see what you get after the drills," I told her. "You a good shot?"
"Not a particularly good one, but better than average."
"Modesty is useless here," Pavel said.
"You'll need some cockyness to survive with the Helljumpers. You weren't a regular before joining the ODSTs, right?" I asked.
"Negative, sir."
I smiled and turned away so that she wouldn't see me doing it. "Don't take anything they say too seriously."
"I went through bootcamp," she assured me. "I can handle myself."
"Good," Pavel said. "Which brings us to the lower mess hall. This being a carrier we have several smaller mess, or chow, rooms as well as a main one that is usually used for banquets and ceremonies. You can eat there if you want, but this one's the closest to your quarters. Mess is open at all times, but don't be a dick and come in during the middle of the night."
We moved through the ship hastily, with Pavel occasionally pointing out stuff to us that we might've not known. He made quite the tour guide; I had to give him that. Joking and messing around while he explained the functions, locations, and purposes of everything made the tour more bearable. Eventually we stopped in front of a big arrow that pointed to the bridge.
"That over there is the bridge," he said, pointing out the obvious. "We don't have access unless explicitly told to enter by an officer with access."
"You said access twice," I pointed out.
"Yeah, fuck you."
I laughed at that and shoved him hard. I could tell that Novak was a little bit confused at out interactions. In bootcamp they tried to dehumanize you, to treat your superiors as just that and your subordinates with respect and the adequate amount of contempt. That might be a very general description, but it was pretty much the truth. In practice, people intermingled with others of different ranks. Look at me, I was great friends with an officer, beat the shit out of one of my subordinate squad members, and engaged in a relationship with a warrant officer. Fine, fine, I might not be a particularly good example when it comes down to following military protocol, but it wasn't strange for noncoms to treat each others as equals.
The point is that Novak was surprised that the no-intermingling policy didn't actually exist in real life.
"Anything else we need to see?" I asked quickly before Pavel could retaliate.
"Well, there are probably a couple of people that you should meet first, but that can be done later. Oh hey, will you look at that."
I looked over to where he was pointing at and saw a man dressed in marine fatigues emerging from an elevator. He looked like an officer, but I couldn't see his rank.
"Captain Galván!" Pavel cried out.
Well, that solves that issue.
"Klaus, what is it now?"
Pavel raised an eyebrow but walked towards the captain. "Trouble?"
"The Admiral's just being tough again. He'll agree to our suggestions after a while though. Old man likes to make us work for it."
"Is that a Mexican accent I detect?" I asked tentatively.
"Mexico City," he replied. "Born and raised."
I smiled. "Born and half-raised," I told him, offering him my hand instead of the usual salute. "Staff Sergeant Francisco Castillo."
"Pleased to meet you," he replied in Spanish. "Captain Darius Galván."
"English, please," Pavel pleaded. I saw Private Novak nod in agreement.
"Fine," I said. "What exactly were you talking to the admiral about?"
"We wanted to split off our companies into smaller ones of more manageable size, but we need one additional hangar bay where the newest company can stage their operations from."
"What size are your companies right now, sir?" Novak asked.
"Three hundred men," Pavel replied, eliciting a whistle from me.
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," Captain Galván said.
"Why didn't they sent the battalion XO here, if you don't mind me asking?"
Galván eyed me curiously and shrugged. "I'm the XO."
"Shouldn't that be a mayor?"
"Probably, but the LC and I have been working together for our whole careers, It works just fine for us."
I nodded understandingly.
"Well, I gotta get going, see if we're going to be able to create a Gorgon company."
"Like the name," I said.
"You should hear the others," he laughed. "Gunny, Staff, Private," he said, saluting as we did the same. "See you around."
"That's the XO of Battalion One," Pavel told us as soon as he left. "Captain Galván is a pretty all right guy, but never get in the way of his job." He turned to face us and made a very serious face. "And never ever make fun of his curly hair."
I could only respond with confusion.
The armor felt awkward. Well, it felt…very inadequate. The modified Marine armor that I was currently wearing was coated with a special spray that would detect the UV light of training lasers. It meant that if I was shot my armor would lock up and I'd collapse to the floor, 'dead.' Yes, you can all laugh now, training on board a ship usually involves a glorified game of laser tag. The rest of my new squad was also suiting up. It was a weird sight, seeing strangers when I was used to seeing friends. My new comrades in arms didn't seem like anything particularly different, but they just weren't the same as Reaper.
Pavel was toting a M247L while Private Novak tried to decide between grabbing a DMR or an EMR. She probably wasn't used to the EMR, which was a relatively new weapon that had most definitely not made its way down to the bootcamps. Hell, they used old-fashioned weapons all the time and only had a couple of the more modern ones to train marines in their use. It might've not been the most effective, or even the wisest, way to go around training men and women, but it was cost effective and sufficient. ODSTs became proficient with weapons in bootcamp, they became experts in the battlefield.
Second Squad was composed of eight men, much like Reaper had been originally. I was the squad leader, and a new one at that. The rest of the guys probably saw me as an inept replacement for the man that they were already familiar with. I didn't blame them, it was only human for them to react that way. They weren't disrespectful, in fact, they were a little bit too respectful. Other than me we had Pavel as my quintessential second in command, Grigori as the third former Reaper, and the green Private Miranda Novak. That was four, in case you can't keep count, we were still missing another four.
The first one was Lance Corporal Apirama Wiremu. He was the highest ranking member after Pavel and myself. The primary reason that I mentioned him first is because he was so goddamned impressive. A former rugby player, he had joined the Corps for unknown reasons. He was taller than me by three inches at least, had the dark skin that was characteristic of Maori peoples. Oh, and he had tribal tattoos covering all of his face and arms. If those were any indication, the tribal tattoos covered his entire body. The man was built like a freaking monster, muscular and broad-chested he would give me a pause in a fight. He was, ironically enough, the squad's unofficial heavy weapons expert. Yes, I am being sarcastic when I'm saying that.
After him came the first in the trio of PFCs. Axel Beckel. Born to first-generation German immigrants in a small colony in the middle of nowhere. He was actually swayed by the UNSCs propaganda and visually impressive recruitment posters. According to Pavel he still believed in what he was doing. We all did, but he did for reasons that were not his own. Looking very German with blonde hair and blue eyes, he carried a shotgun in addition to an assault rifle. That made him our unofficial close quarters weapon's expert.
Second in the trio of PFCs we had our very own Sander Almers. Outer Colony kid, his mother was of Dutch descent and his father was a deadbeat. Pavel's words, not mine. There wasn't anything particularly special about him. Average height, brown eyes, brown hair, and a neutral skin tone. He looked like the poster boy for those freaks that want to use genetic engineering to make every human equal. His unofficial occupation was medic. He received corpsman training in addition to that of a regular ODST. Everyone in the platoon respected him for that.
Lastly, we had the most interesting example. Serge Brisbois. Very private about his personal life, never gave any details, Pavel knew that he was born in France, actual France, back in Earth. What we did know about him was that he had fought in various of Earth's corporate and proxy wars. He joined the French Foreign Legion at a young age and fought for his country. Fighting rebels in the European Union and helping allied states solve their problems became his job for over ten years. Eventually he got tired of all the political bullshit and didn't extend his contract. He left and joined the UNSCMC. According to Pavel his reasoning was that if he was going to fight for a political force, it might as well been one that he agreed with. PFC Serge Brisbois was also the unofficial leader of that trio. He was tall, slim, and gaunt, sporting a couple of ugly scars on his face.
I made my mind to get to know their stories later. They sounded like they were mildly interesting.
"All suited up?" I asked loudly, slapping the bolt on my mock BR55 loudly.
"Yes Staff Sergeant!" they replied with a variety of accents. It was amusing.
"Ok, head out, El-tee's waiting for us outside."
And she was. Lovely face and all. Lieutenant Hayes was standing next to Master Sergeant Yassir Dajani, our platoon sergeant, second in command to the lieutenant, and squad leader for the Third Squad. Oh, and he was a Palestinian. The fact that he was actively working with an Israeli and apparently never questioned her orders went against all stereotypes. Had I lived my teens on Earth I might've found it amusing or ironic, but Jericho-VII politics were a dull affair that had to be taught. "Second Squad!" Hayes called loudly, getting a salute from all of us. "At ease. As all of you are aware, there are two newcomers to this squad. One a veteran and another fresh out of bootcamp. The main reason why you are here is so that I can do an assessment of how you'll work together. I already know Klaus, Wiremu, Almers, Beckel, and Brisbois. And I know how they work. I mainly need to know if your fame is well deserved Gunny," she said, directing her words at me. "Private. I assume that you are well-trained in this type of scenarios."
"Yes, sir," she replied, straightening her back.
"Sir?" the El-tee asked. "I like it."
Oh yeah, weird as hell.
"Lieutenant," I started. "What exactly will we be doing?"
"You ever use a combat training room?"
I shook my head, looking at the 100 meters by 100 meters room. That's about two football fields next to one another. It was completely flat with no visible cover. There were several windows on the middle and the top. Any passerby could stop and examine the marines rehearsing operations. Of course, if it was a black operation the windows would be covered with metal shutters. The only thing that I found unusual about this room was the complete lack of any objects whatsoever.
"Activate!" Hayes called out.
At her command, the floor started rippling and several sections of it shut upwards, forming walls.
"New technology, quite simple, but ingenious."
"How does it work?" Private Novak asked.
"Simple, the floor is made of several little columns that can be configured to fit several different designs. The material is flexible and strong, so it can fold underneath this deck and create floors."
I raised my eyebrow, I was suitably impressed. I looked at the floor and saw that it wasn't completely smooth, instead I could see the little column-like materials.
They were probably less than a quarter of an inch in diameter inch, that probably allowed for flexible designs.
"Scenario is a typical hostage situation," Master Sergeant Dajani said, speaking for the first time. "You have five minutes to plan the operation and limited intel. Go."
I gotta admit, I was quite stunned. One moment I was marveling at human ingenuity and the next I was taking cover behind a 'building' and planning an operation with very limited 'thermal' imagery and no AI to help me in any way.
"Approximately fifteen hostages and eight confirmed kidnappers," I was saying. "Obvious entrance would be doors and windows, the blueprints show several of them, these ones here should be unguarded." I felt ridiculous as I was saying it, but I went on regardless. "We have one breaching charge, I want you," I pointed at Almers, "Beckel, and Brisbois to climb here and position the breaching charge on the floor. You should be in a room with three kidnappers and minimal hostage presence. Pavel, Novak, and Wiremu…am I saying that right?"
"No, but nobody does."
I shrugged, I knew the feel. Geez, you'd think my name was alien from the way some people tried to pronounce it. "You three will go through the windows on this corner, thermal indicates heavy kidnapper presence, you go fast and you go in for the kill. Use as many flashbangs as you want, we don't want any of the kidnappers panicking and shooting hostages. Caboose, you come with me, make out way form here silently, take out any hostiles in these rooms and prevent them from reaching the rest of the team."
Two teams of three and one of two. One breaching charge, three broken windows, and one kicked-down door later we would be shooting holographic projections.
"Sounds risky," PFC Almers ventured.
"That's because it is," I told him. "But you, as a combat-tested Helljumper should be more than able to complete this mission without any problem, unless they somehow made dicks of themselves at your bootcamp and let you through."
"Yes, sir," he replied through clenched teeth. I was obviously not making any friends.
"Any other objections?" When nobody said anything I gave the go order.
The plan was executed almost to perfection. For a horrible situation where we had little intel and very little planning time we did an admirable job. All of the rescuers had been killed in what seemed like record time, the holograms shattering into pieces as they were hit. The man who programmed this obviously had a sense of humor. The only black mark on our attempt was that one of the hostages had been nicked on the arm by a kidnapper. Apparently he would be ok, but the UNSC would obviously lose the ensuing lawsuit.
"Good," Hayes told us as we exited the building, the little wires already collapsing to the floor behind us. "Next up you have a more combat-oriented mission, pilot downed, he has vital intel and you have to pick him up."
It was the same deal, little planning time and a deadline. This time elite, grunt, and jackal holograms fired at us to no avail. My team was good. Very good. It only took two minutes for us to get to the 'pilot' and one more to evacuate him. I have to admit, the reactions of the aliens were very realistic, except the elites, they were moving much like us humans, sticking behind cover and firing blindly. In real life, they would've used their shields more to their advantage. Still, the job was quite easy, only Novak seemed to be struggling, but Caboose actually bothered to give her tips.
Talking, so unlike him.
After that we had to cover an imaginary squad. Then we fought off a Wraith and an enemy platoon until we could get air support. We proceeded to ambush an enemy convoy and destroy it.
All of those simulations were done very efficiently. Novak was nicked in the leg in one of those, but that was our only real hiccup.
"I'm suitably impressed," Lieutenant Hayes let us know after she was suitably impressed. "Now, you get to play the unwinnable game."
Almers, Beckel, Wiremu, and Pavel groaned in annoyance. The name itself should've been a warning, but I was confident that I could win this so-called unwinnable game.
"Current record is thirty minutes and forty two seconds. Good luck."
"Can someone give me the basics?" I asked.
"Agreed," Novak seconded, looking unsure of herself.
"Simple game," Lance Corporal Wiremu started. "We get randomly designed cover, usually overlooking the rest of the area and the enemy get their own little walls. Long story short, they swarm us until we run out of ammo and have to get shot."
"No ressuply?" Novak asked.
"We get 'drops' every four rounds, but eventually they'll outnumber us." He seemed strangely accepting of it.
An instant later the area moved and shifted to reveal a small hill in the middle of the room. There was a destroyed house on top, pockmarked with bullet holes and scorch marks. I don't understand how they managed to make such a good impression with flexible metal sticks. We started walking up there and then partially collapsed walls appeared all around us, some were made out of the metallic tubes and a few were holographic displays.
"This is gonna suck."
Exactly thirty minutes and thirty nine seconds later we were wiped out by an unrelenting force of holograms. It was quite embarrassing. Private Novak got stabbed by a stealth elite in the back the exact moment Pavel and I were blown apart by a grenade and PFC Brisbois was overwhelmed by enemy fire.
"That wasn't particularly bad," Grigori muttered after his armor allowed him to move. I knew him well enough to know that he was actually proud of making it so close to the record.
"Good job," I said, helping up Wiremu from the floor. "Maybe next time."
Beckel said something in German and kicked at the floor while rolling his shoulder. He had been 'killed' and all of us had been too busy to move him into a more comfortable position where all the weight wasn't on his shoulder. He was probably frustrated that he had been the first one to be hit. As my new comrades walked past me I saw little silhouettes on the windows, looking at us and chatting amongst themselves, probably criticizing our performance and maybe even praising it.
"Good work, Gunny," Lieutenant Hayes told me, clapping my shoulder as I walked outside of the simulation room. Or combat room, whatever.
"Thanks El-tee," I replied, trying to sound modest. "Maybe we'll get the record next time."
She laughed. "Maybe," Hayes agreed.
As Pavel and I headed back towards our quarters I asked him what was the deal with Lieutenant Hayes and her resemblance to our very own Sexy Voice.
"Well, I don't remember Sexy Voice's name, but when I asked the El-tee if she had family in the Helljumpers she told me that she had a cousin there."
"Damn."
"Yeah, she was confirmed KIA in Aztlan, we had it wrong the whole time."
"Does she know that we…" I paused, looking for the right words and going ahead when I found none. "Left her behind?"
"No," Pavel said. "Hell no, I just told her that we worked with her over there, that she was a great soldier."
"Damn," I repeated. It was a valuable piece of information, I wouldn't want to screw up and tell my superior officer that I had basically left a member of her family to die.
Pavel looked uncomfortable. "When are you meeting up with Hanna?" It was an obvious attempt to change the topic, one which I was thankful for. I lived with enough guilt in my life.
"Later today," I replied. "She's also got to get herself set up with her new unit."
"Oh, by the way, did you know there's a boxing league in the ship?"
"Now I do," I told him, my interest growing. "But it probably wouldn't be fair, you know?"
"I don't know Frank, we've got some pretty good ones here," he told me. "Beat the shit out of me."
I smiled, patting his shoulder. "That's not that hard."
"Ha-ha," he replied. "Give it a shot."
"And make you a bunch of money on bets."
"Yeah, that too."
I smiled. That was more like the Pavel I met, immature and funny. His wife was making him a better person, but I was still left behind as a man-child. I knew it and I hated it, but there was little I could do at it, even with Hanna trying her best. Pavel and I chatted aimlessly for a while, taking a quick detour to buy ourselves some candy from the dispenser machines. When we reached the lowest deck we separated and made our way to our respective rooms.
I looked at the nametags and saw that Master Sergeant Yassir Dajani was my roommate.
This ought to be interesting.
"Tell me about it," Schitzo groaned.
I opened the door and walked in. Dajani was lying down on his bed, reading a datapad.
"Master Sergeant," I greeted.
"Sarge will do," he said. "Room rules, your half, my half. You can do whatever you want on your side."
I let myself drop on my bed. My duffelbag was on top of it, someone must've put it there.
"No girls in the room either," he went on.
"Shouldn't be a problem," I shrugged.
"You have a girl?" he asked me.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Where is she?"
"Here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Huh, well, rule still applies. Whenever I want privacy I'm going to ask you to leave for fifteen minutes. Whenever you want privacy you have the same right." He went on as I nodded. "You can play loud music as long as I enjoy it, likewise for me. And don't go through my things."
"Reasonable rules," I told him. "Don't worry about me breaking them." While I was slightly irritated at the man's attitude, I had to play nice with him because he was directly above me in the chain of command and obviously had a lot more respect because of his time here. I'd just have to play nice for a while.
The rules didn't say anything about throwing knives, did they?
I opened my bag and got a thick wooden square, it had magnets attached to the back. I placed it on the wall at the feet of my bed, slightly to the right and up for safety. It attached and I grabbed my knife from my boot. I twirled it and threw it at the target, where it embedded itself with a loud thunk. Dajani raised an eyebrow and looked at me but otherwise said nothing. Since I wasn't feeling like an asshole at the moment and I was too lazy to pick up my sole surviving knife from the target I decided to set my alarm and get a nap before I met up with Hanna.
I was asleep in seconds.
Thanks to Alshep and SilasWhitfield for proof-reading this chapter.
New ship, new crew, new faces, new unit. What could possibly go wrong now?
The Flawless has one ODST platoon in addition to two large battalions of marines. The rest of the battlefield and its capabilities will be revealed shortly, but trust me when I say that the Battle Group Flawless is an incredibly valuable asset to the UNSC. And it's totally badass too. We've got the carrier, which is just under three kilometers long and has a huge-ass MAC in addition to conventional weapons and the fighter wing protecting it. Not to mention its escorts.
Then we have the new platoon. Already I have introduced the new squad and a few other members. You know the old squad, and worry not, they'll be here and there, a constant presence in the battlefield. I think that new characters will allow me to grow as a writer at the cost of having antagonized half of you guys for killing pretty much everybody. I'm sorry about that by the way.
Oh, and firefight totally ripped off their idea from me.
Stay strong.
-casquis
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