UNSC Vociferous in orbit over Ascella IV
March 19, 2553
Both of them were loudly chatting to one another about the Spartans as they moved further down in line. The mess hall was rather quiet that day, even though it was almost midday and lunch was being served.
Fowler didn't really care a lot about people that actively talked on the feats that he and his team did, but much of it had been exaggerated that it barely resembled what had actually happened.
It was likely some enlisted guy had seen the feed as it was being reviewed for the team's debrief earlier that morning when they had found more abandoned Covenant stations and rewound to the part of the action. He told it to someone else and that person would tell more people. Details would be blurred and by the time it spread around the whole ship; the last few to hear the story likely were told a highly corrupted version.
"So here's the good part," The guy was very animated and enthusiastic, like he had never seen a Spartan do things like that before, "After the third ghost was disabled, the last two had to blindly charge the kid."
"Who the hell was keeping them from firing? The sniper?" His buddy asked.
"No, it was the volatile one. Can't remember his name. So he's occupied with one of the elites-"
Fowler rolled his eyes as the story went on. He grabbed a plate and went down the line after them, accepting the daily lunch servings of beef enchiladas with black beans and Spanish rice. He pointed to Austal and Bailey sitting at one of the empty tables and held up three fingers for the drink dispenser. Seeing that he wasn't lying, the man behind the counter nodded and handed over three cans of soda. They had just been taken out of the cooler after the others had made their run on the counter.
"And he freakin shoulder bashes the hinge-head from behind like POW!" He lowered his side and made a mock barging motion, "Sends it flyin through the air a good fifteen feet!"
"Holy-"
"That's not the end of it. The kid had jumped onto the hood of the closer Ghost-"
"You mean he was going to kick the driver out and take over?"
"No, instead he grabs the handles and steers it so that it goes full speed on a collision with the other Ghost before he plants a plasma grenade on the terrified grunt's head, destroying both in the explosion."
"Bullshit!" The other guy had exclaimed, "First try!"
"Yeah not kidding. Right in dead in the fucking center!" He stuffed a piece of food into his mouth, "I don't know if you've seen highlights of that kid in action. He's supposedly only a tad over six foot, but he is not to be messed with."
Three tables over, the Spartans were effortlessly eavesdropping. It was not uncommon for other servicemen to talk about the incredible feats they did from War Games exercises, but seeing firsthand was something else.
"I thought you rammed the Ghosts into each other," Bailey said.
Austal nodded, "I did."
"You going to go over and tell them how it really happened?"
He paused, as if pondering about it for a second before he shook his head and jerked a thumb in their direction, "I like theirs better."
"Me too," Fowler agreed, "But even after you pulled that off, I still have to say that it was a ballsy move."
"Stuff like that makes highlight reels,"
"Sure does," Austal was interrupted by the ringing of his datapad. "Shit. We got War Games critiques in fifteen. Boss wants us to meet him in the bay,"
"Critique?" Bailey asked.
"That's why we were brought on Vociferous in the first place." Fowler explained, "A ship like this is going to have its own contingent of specialized Spartans to carry out covert operations in centralized zones. Sort of like us, but they will stick to particular sectors,"
"Boss read the report from the Requiem campaign's aftermath. Much of the top brass wasn't thrilled at what happened. We threw a lot of resources into research, intelligence and protection into that world, only to have it destroyed. We even had attempts to kill Jul 'Mdama twice and failed."
"So where do we fit in?" Bailey asked.
"Upon review Captain Lasky and Commander Palmer suggested that Infinity's Spartan attachment be renovated with more experienced and seasoned personnel. We're one of the teams that was not mentioned for that, even though we're not based aboard. So while Infinity is in the process of redoing itself, Tyrant and the rest of the Spartan command staff have assigned us to help hone the new Spartans attached to these vessels stationed in the edges of space to maximize potential."
"We're Spartans though, aren't we supposed to be the best of the best?"
"Yes," Austal sipped his drink, "But we're not invincible. Even guys like us can't stand up to every threat and not everything can be solved by filling it with bullets. Twenty one Spartans died in the Requiem offensive and in their words; twenty one too many."
"Who's on the obituary?" Fowler asked, just out of curiosity.
Both others listened carefully, displaying a mix of anger, sadness. Bailey hung her head in her hands while Brett just sighed and shook his head.
"Estley-Bethel…Dunlap…Macrae…Costabile…DeMarco,"
Hearing the leader of Fireteam Majestic's name, Fowler balled his fist. "Fuck…He was a good man."
"The point is that HIGHCOM feels that their funds can be put elsewhere for more useful purposes than to make as many Spartans as possible. It costs the same amount for a whole Helljumper platoon to be outfitted with gear. If we're going to be parallel to ODSTs, then we need to prove to the generals, the admirals and the politicians that every Spartan rolled off the assembly line from here on out is a worthwhile investment."
"And that's where we come in. The Spartan branch is retasking all those not on active missions to help babysit the newbies. It's not just here and Infinity, but every other base with active Spartan bases is having this overhaul. Lots of big names are the instructors…us, our other teams Regal and Basilisk. Even heard that Osiris might join in… but last I heard, they're all the way out at Selkirk, chasing down another elite warlord."
"We best not keep the boss waiting," Fowler grabbed everyone's tray, including Austal's soda. He gave a glare since he wasn't quite done, but didn't say anything.
"Hey I'll catch up," Marcus jerked a thumb towards the personal quarters, "Tyrant cleared me to arrive late to the briefing and that someone's trying to get ahold of me. I'll be there shortly."
"I bet you I know who it is and it's the kind of person who will come before a mission," Fowler smirked. Bailey curiously looked at both of them.
"Shut your mouth." Austal rolled his eyes, "And get your ass down there."
"This is your target," Lusana brought up a hologram of an armored sangheili in the heavy armor, "His name is Turz 'Xiva and he leads the Vahkai, an ancient order of elites that uphold their people's traditions. He is considered an extremist and although he works with Jul 'Mdama, it is believed that the two are not on good terms."
Before him stood a group of about twenty Spartans. All of them were new to the deployment of Vociferous and would be staffed as its first contingent. They would then be deployed across various worlds to conduct specialized missions with each different and adhering to their best skillsets.
"Doesn't look so tough," One of the Spartans said, earning the chuckle from the rest of the group.
Tony chose to ignore the hotheaded comment and continued, "Your Warzone mission is to insert into the Temple and destroy 'Xiva. Now his lair is a fortress with a full army of guards and plenty of armor. I'll let your team's handlers do most of the briefing, but this particular simulation will end once 'Xiva has been defeated or there are none of you left to complete the mission."
"And if we win?" That same Spartan asked.
"Then there would be nothing of me to teach you. It would seem that your success would be unparalleled. The UNSC would make fine Spartans and rookies for that matter."
"Sir…I'm sorry sir…Captain, may I ask what this is all about?"
"You are all likely wondering why Captain Barrett summoned you to the War Games decks at such an ungodly hour, but this is necessary. I'm sure everyone here has heard of the less than stellar reports of the aftermath on Requiem. Many of the high up officers are questioning the effectiveness of the program and the politicians are crying out at the tremendous amounts of funding being poured in."
"That's all they do…grumble," Someone murmured.
"Yes that is true, but it won't be a laughing matter once recruitment and production of Spartan fours are reduced and completely cut off."
More murmurs from the crowd followed.
"So in order to convince them otherwise, it needs to be proven that all the effort being put in is producing optimal results. You are the best of humanity's warriors and have to be on your toes. Every day there's a new threat be it Covenant, human or our new Promethean enemies. If an all-out conflict blows up, we're going to be the first and last line of defense for the UNSC."
"You're the first of the Spartans onboard this ship. All twenty five of you," Pine stepped up beside him, "There's another twenty set to arrive in May and another twenty in August who will be right where you are now. All across every Spartan operations center, there are guys like us who are giving this branch an overhaul so that it meets the standard of the elite special forces that we are."
Lusana continued, "You will have the rest of the day off to plan, prepare and even relax if you would like because some of the drills and tests that we've been given for you are going to test every aspect of your abilities. Report to the War Games deck by oh six hundred in full gear. If you do not show up fully prepared then you will be going into battle without whatever you forgot."
"Sir," One of the Spartans spoke up, "Oh six hundred is in eight and a half hours,"
"We can start now if you'd like." After hearing that, there was no further protest from the crowd.
He dismissed them and they all headed back out towards the general quarters. "Handlers, a word?" A few Spartans stopped and headed right over.
"Remember that when Eon and I are watching, you're on the hot seat too. All of you are responsible for feeding new intelligence to your teams. Make sure to account for every detail, but don't spend all day overanalyzing the situation. When the operation's over, we should be done reviewing your teams' performance and give it a try ourselves. Any questions?" They shook their heads, "Alright. Dismissed."
"I'm sorry I'm not able to be home right now," Austal said. "I'm still missing a briefing, so I gotta make this quick. Anyway you said you have big news?"
"Yeah," Gabrielle sighed on the screen. She was in their house with the bathrobe he had gotten her for Christmas. Her blue eyes shone with worry, "Well it's more like something happening,"
"Well you can share it," He pressed, "We're married remember?"
"I don't know if you'll like it,"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Austal got the feeling that something was about to take the turn for the worse. It seemed like an eternity and he still continued to sit and wait on the matter. "Listen, if there's something you need to tell me, then let it out. I'm not going to stop until I find out. You know that," He gestured to himself, "I know that."
She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes, "I took a pregnancy test last Monday,"
"And?" He never missed a beat.
"It came out positive,"
Apologies for such a long wait, it's been nearly four months since I last worked on this story. I got a new job that has erratic hours plus I had to tweak a large part of the later plotline since a new idea had come into my head. Big thanks to everyone still following and reviewing. Things are going to change here with the rather recent disappointing performances of the Spartans. Eon's here to set them straight while they await additional information on 'Xiva and the Vahkai.
Thanks for reading and reviewing, you give my writing purpose.