11/22/2016
Hey guys. I have a PSA for you. If you're here at the end wondering why Chapter 22 is now 23, I did some reconstructing. I wanted to do it without triggering a false alarm, but there wasn't anything I can do. Chapter Nine was split into two and I had to post a new chapter. This document is under construction and I'm working as fast as possible to bring you new contact and fix all the bugs. I appreciate your patience.
Greetings! I hope that wasn't too long of a wait for you.
Before we move on I'd like to acknowledge a few milestones. Sometime ago, this story broke 150,000 hits and has garnered more than 343 reviews. Wow. I didn't ever expect to have this happen. I don't recall who pointed the number of reviews out, but you deserve a cookie.
Again, thank you to those who read and review. Here's to larger numbers in the future.
As always, Fireteam Rapier and the Associated Characters are the intellectual property of gwb99. Many thanks are due to him for allowing me to utilize his characters in conjunction with mine. Best of luck to you in your endeavors.
Chapter 22:
December 9th, 2559
6:15 Hours UNSC Standard Military Time/Calendar
UNSC Infinity, Office of Spartan Commander Sarah Palmer
Spartan William Gunther
"Do we have to do this?" Hansu complained.
Nobody answered the shortest member of their team.
The door hissed open and Fireteam Rapier filed out one by one.
"How did it go?" William asked as Kevin crossed the threshold.
"Ehh..." he shared a look with his team. "Decent enough. You'll see when you get inside. Our new training starts in a few hours so we figured we'd hit the gym before that."
"Have fun with that."
"You too Castle." Sophie nodded.
William knocked on the door and Palmer's voice ordered them to enter.
The door slid open and they filed into the darkened office.
The all formed a single file line in parade rest and saluted.
"At ease Castle. Did you enjoy armor shopping?" her tone was conversational but it was clear she wanted to get down to business.
"Yes ma'am." Asher replied.
"Good. You'll be happy to hear I just approved all your requests and forwarded them on to the Captain. Some of you should be able to have your armor by the end of the day if he signs off on it fast enough. I didn't call you here to talk armor though. I called you here because of the incident from this morning."
Nobody did so visibly, but the Team shared a collective glance at each other. Guesses as to what was to come was exchanged through subtle body language.
She gestured to her screen and a full size hologram appeared on the desk. She triggered the recording and the scene from this morning's breakfast started playing out.
"Freeze frame." she ordered after a few minutes and Roland's voice echoed her. The recording stopped right at when Daniel "fell". It was clear from the perspective of the camera that it was indeed an intentional act.
"Fireteam Castle, tell me, did you do something to provoke Fireteam Shadow last night?"
"No Commander." William responded. "The only possible provocation we committed was escaping their trap. I don't have any knowledge of any other incidents."
"I see. And you have no personal history with them?"
"Commander?" Asher asked confused. "We just came aboard the ship. With respect, most of our team has been on ice for years now. Before that we've never had any problem with the other Spartan Teams we encountered. There is no reason to believe that we have a history between us."
Palmer nodded, as if she was expecting this answer.
"Then how, do you explain this?"
She then ordered Roland to find the beginning of their physical altercation and let the recording play from there.
William watched as the action unfolded. He regretted stopping Issac's punch and sending him flying, but other than that, he felt there was little reason for them to be here. They were not at fault. The recording stopped when she and the Spartan II's arrived.
"I have no explanation." William answered. "Nor do I think anyone on my team can come up with one. It's possible that they were just bitter to us from last night. Please Commander. I don't understand why what happened, happened. But you have my word that nothing else-"
The Spartan Commander held up a hand and he stopped. She sighed and rubbed her temples.
"Well, I'm not going to hold you at fault. I was going to recommend you and Fireteam Shadow pull double shifts or have your meals cut, but this recording proves that this was completely started by Spartans Daniel and Isaac of Fireteam Shadow."
"Told you." William heard Hansu whisper and he shot him a sharp glance that silenced the shorter Spartan.
"Be it as that may," she stared at Hansu. "that still leaves me with a bigger question to solve."
"Ma'am?" Brittany asked.
"I've never had any sort of problems with Fireteam Shadow, Spartan Fry is a good leader. He's popular among the other Spartans."
"So what does this have to do with this meeting?" Brittany asked when it was clear Palmer wasn't going to speak.
"It's relevant because we lost two of their team on Requiem during the incursion on Infinity."
"Wait, pardon me Commander," Felix interrupted. "Did you say it was boarded?"
Palmer looked angry for a second but let her face drop and she seemed to age a little bit in the pale blue light of the recording.
"Yes. Yes it was. You'll hear more about that in your training." she said on a note of bitterness. "I requested Spartans to fill in the gaps and was given two replacements from ONI. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details but it was only then that I started to have problems. The Fireteam wasn't as effective as it should have been, they started falling behind in War Games matches, I thought we fixed the problem-and we did until your team showed up.
She magnified the screen on Isaac and Daniel. Each had a look of utter hatred and fury. The Spartans of Fireteam Castle bristled slightly.
"That's not a face you make after losing only once in combat." Commander Palmer said concerned.
"That's the kind of face you make when you see your mortal enemy." Roland chimed in from the room's PA system.
"Not needed Roland." she said unhappily turning her gaze upwards before turning it back to Fireteam Castle. "Again, I'm not at liberty to discuss these two Spartans because of their background."
"You mean the one that you and Captain Lasky think is falsified?"
"Roland? I hear you make one more-"
"Captain Lasky," the AI interrupted, "-wanted me to inform the occupants of this room that due to the circumstances of the altercation, Fireteam Castle should at least have a basic knowledge of what's going on here."
Palmer pursed her lips together.
"Is that all?" she said looking to the ceiling.
"He also wants you to inform Fireteam Rapier. I'll keep my mouth shut."
"Commander?" Elizabeth asked after another long silence.
Palmer sighed but resigned herself to something.
"This strictly off the record. You never heard me say it. You are not to repeat this to others. Are we clear?"
"Crystal." Castle responded in unison.
"Good." she leaned back and paused before speaking.
"As I said before, Daniel and Isaac were transferred to Infinity three months after Requiem. They were delivered to us by ONI with full and complete dossiers. However, either the person writing them did a really terrible job, or the whole thing is a farce. They appear to be amnesiacs with their memories stopping at the age of 12. To make matters worse, what they do remember doesn't line up with their files. Captain Lasky tried to uncover as much as he could on his own with no success. He mentioned it off-hand to ONI but heard nothing back. We've enjoyed a good relationship with the Office of Naval Intelligence but in regards to these two Spartans? They've refused to return our questions or referred us to people who don't exist. Their psych evaluations remind me more of hardened sociopaths rather than Spartans."
Asher nodded in understanding, but the rest of the team, including William, wore various looks of discomfort.
"In short, they're dangerous." Palmer summarized.
"Commander, why are they on this ship then?" William asked.
"Wouldn't we all like to know Spartan." she muttered unhappily. "We've done the best we could to channel their hostility towards the enemy but they're honestly more of a danger to us than anybody else. We've tried requesting for reassignment but ONI last month told us very firmly that they stay. At this point, the Spooks are refusing to consider the matter. Any complaints we've lodged are tied up in red tape. In the mean time, the best I can do is to keep them on a leash far away from everyone else."
"So you're concerned that perhaps we've turned two Spartans into walking time-bombs." Ralph observed.
A cold silence filled the room. William hoped that someone would say something contrary, but nothing was voiced against it.
"I wish there was a better way to say it, but yes." Palmer finally said unhappily. "I can't get them off ship, and as much as I would like to move you guys away, I need you. You're going to find out why today. I'm going to have another meeting with the Captain and bring Red Team up to speed. Perhaps they'll have a better suggestion."
"Your use for Castle Team aside, why are we on board this ship then?" William asked straightening up. "I value their safety Commander, and when things like this happen, I want to know why. I want to rest easy in the knowledge that there isn't anybody on this ship that would like to kill us. I've lost too many of my team and I certainly do not plan on having another Spartan declared Missing in Action-"
"I am very much aware of how you feel Spartan." she said bristling. "Do you think this is fun and games for me?"
"No ma'am. I never envied your position."
She clenched her fists and the chair she was sitting in creaked before she relaxed wearied.
"Look, I don't know what's up with them, or ONI for that matter too." she said as an afterthought. "At this point I'd consider leaving them somewhere on our next planet-side leave." she said disgusted. "I do not need any more dead Spartans on my watch."
"So, how do you want us to proceed?" Chelsea asked. "We obviously have common ground here."
"I'll do my best to keep them away from you, in fact I'll switch their rooms out to keep them farther away, but, please, avoid contact with them."
William looked back again at the twin expression on Fireteam Shadow. He had seen those faces before. Most of the time, they belonged to people who would not stop until they had removed their enemies one by one from the Earth.
"We'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious." he said seriously.
"Good." Palmer seemed to relax a little. "If you do suspect something, please let me know at once. If I'm indisposed you can let Roland know."
"Just say the word." he chimed in.
"I think that's all I can say to you Castle. Good luck in today's training. Dismissed."
8:00 Hours
CAS Assault Carrier Shadow of Intent, in Orbit of Forerunner Planet Yukon
Sangheili Dueling Arena
Special Operations Officer Ripa' Talam
"You're too tense!" he heard one of the instructors call out. "It restricts your ability to move. A Warrior must always be light on his feet!"
Ripa looked up from his holopad at the Sangheili being corrected. He looked at the neophyte Warrior who was struggling to his feet, the wooden training sword lying a short distance away, and placed him as the newest recruit in the Lance that he led. He stifled a chuckle and became nostalgic for a moment instead. He had plenty of days where he made rookie mistakes, one of which, the day he underestimated the human rebels on Mamore, nearly cost him his life. He thankfully had the humility to learn from his mistakes, something he was proud of to this day.
He had faith in the warriors under his command. They might be slightly lacking in experience, but that would come with time. There were certainly many opportunities to prove themselves in this war. Just yesterday they had completed a mission on the surface of the planet where they had taken control of a communications tower the Promethean's were using to coordinate activities. They had largely disappeared, falling back to whatever quarter they originated from and his lance had freed up a place for a science team to go down and set up shop. He felt his Lance needed more work so he had called for a special training session.
This gave him time to ponder his other mission, rooting out the traitor that had brought the Storm back to Coruscant. He had already interviewed a number of suspects and had confirmed that whoever had committed such a treacherous action was indeed a Sangheili operating alone that sat in the higher echelons of upper leadership. This was disturbing to say the least and he was more determined than ever to find this traitor and expose him for his crimes. Ripa was also under minor pressure from Fleetmaster 'Vadum to come up with answers soon. Diplomatic relations had been tarnished with the Republic, and the Confederacy had not hesitated to use the attack as propaganda. He feared about the possibility of an alliance between the two.
Jul 'Mdama's Covenant was breaking slowly, everybody knew that, their final stronghold on Sunaion was all that was left on Sangheilios. News of his injuries had been spread like the parasite. His Covenant may have clung to old ideals, but they were certainly not against mixing up their tactics and methodology. There was no telling whether he would try and ally with a power that warred in such a dishonorable fashion. The human adage "desperate times call for desperate measures" seemed most applicable.
Right now he was monitoring all communication traffic on this ship with the assistance of a human "dumb" AI. He had determined the spy was still engaged in communication off and on with the cultists in regular fashion after consultation with the Fleetmaster. Their intelligence suggested that the Storm were trying to reorganize still and strike back with what venom they had.
A message flashed on the pad as the AI forwarded him a potential link. He opened it, scanned the details, and made a few notes before scrolling through the reports. It would have been much too difficult to sort out the messages given the size and importance of the vessel he was on so he had requested from the UNSC (with permission from the Fleetmaster) to acquire a construct to help him sort out all the data quickly. He knew that others would have been loathe to seek help from a human construct of all things but Ripa was also wise enough to realize that pride and honor would be wasted on such an effort on his own.
The next Warrior stepped up and the instructor assumed a fighting stance while the one who had just finished walked back. The weary Sangheili didn't meet Ripa's gaze.
"Why are you so troubled?" Ripa asked.
'Forgive me Officer, but I have brought shame on myself." the Operative said meekly.
"Fear not. That is why I brought us here to train. I understand you are the youngest member here?"
"I am." he dipped his head lower.
"Then why do you waste your time loathing your loss against a brother who has spent years training others such as you? You may feel shame now, but it will be swallowed up when you learn from your mistakes and prove yourself all the better in combat. A Sangheili who can do that will overcome all."
"Wisely spoken Officer. I thank you for your wisdom." he said slightly consoled before moving off to sit with the rest of the lance who was observing the fight about to take place with observant expressions.
In a minute more Ripa would take a break from scanning communication records to do some demonstration with the trainer to show his lance some of the points they had been called out on. That way he could excuse his "note taking" to the others.
A second alert popped up on the holopad. It would appear the construct had found a pattern.
Curious. He mused.
He opened up and sorted through the relevant data. In each of these flagged communiques, the message had been beamed to a supply ship heading home. It was a lead worth pursuing. If he could get relevant data on how the transmission took place, perhaps he could confirm a positive link to the traitor. The coward was foolish enough to believe he was still safe it would seem. Ripa hoped this attitude would hold. It would certainly make his job a lot easier.
9:28 Hours Local Time
Mandator Class Star Dreadnaught, in geosynchronous orbit around AZX-22-Sarlacc. (Designated Cryptum by UNSC Forces)
The Bridge,
High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi
The door to the Mandator's enormous bridge hissed upwards. Several greetings brushed the ears of Obi-Wan Kenobi. He stopped to return them before finding Master Windu in consultation with an Admiral. He must have been new from the glint of his insignia that hadn't been dulled with age. Curious. He would have expected someone a little more experienced to be at the helm but it wasn't up to him to make such Command choices.
"Good morning." Mace greeted him.
"And to you as well. Any exciting developments come up?"
"None or we would have woken you up. We managed to put down a few prefabricated bases down on the surface and we have a couple research teams down there already. It would appear they're already at work. Time will tell whether we'll be able to glean anything from this. The last of the Prometheans, or so they're called according to UNSC, have retreated. It's unclear why they have."
"Where we able to ascertain anything more about our foe?"
"Only as much as what our allies have shared."
"Anakin reported they lacked a force signature like everything else related to these other humans we've met."
"I know. It's a question causing no small stir back home among the scholars. It would appear all the rules are being re-written this time. You'd think something without a trace of the force wouldn't be able to exist."
"But it has. Which makes all our interactions with them more dangerous than we can possibly imagine. Do you think it's possible we rely too much on the Force sometimes and not enough on our own intuition and thought?" the Korrun Master asked.
"I suppose in some degree we do, at least when it comes to interacting with an ally that seems to break all the rules of existence. You think they're dangerous?" Obi-Wan asked.
"I believe the Force has brought them here for a reason, regardless of whether they have signatures or not. The question though is why. I fear their presence has set forth a chain of events beyond any of our control."
"I see. All will be revealed in due time. It always does. And when it does, we will be ready."
A beep from the communication station interrupted their conversation.
"It's from the Chancellor." an Officer reported.
"Let's go greet him." Obi-Wan said for the two of them.
They walked over to the holoprojector. Within a few seconds the Chancellor in front of them from behind his desk.
"Ah, good morning Masters Jedi. I hope I'm not calling too early."
"Not at all." Obi-Wan waved away his concern.
"The Senate recently finished a meeting this afternoon with diplomats from the UNSC. It was proposed and agreed upon that we start a series of joint military exercises to better help us integrate as one force and thereby bring the war to a faster end. It was suggested by Master Yoda that we send two Jedi to help with this task to assist Master Ti with this task. My advisors also insist that we recall the Mandator you're on board right now back to Coruscant. Evidently it makes up a much larger part of the Home Fleet's Defense than I realized which will have to be rectified soon."
"When do you want me to leave?" Mace asked.
"As soon as its convenient Master Jedi. I'm sure the Council can send someone else to maintain a vigil over this system."
"Indeed we will. I'll make preparations and leave as soon as possible. What of the other two Jedi?"
"Well it seems to me that we have two very accomplished Jedi in our midst right now. Might I request the two of you go to Kamino and assist?"
Kenobi swore Anakin's face resembled frustration more than any other emotion.
"We-" Obi-Wan turned to his former Padawan who was visibly unhappy. "Would be honored."
"Excellent. I shall inform Master Ti at once. May the Force be with you."
The connection closed and Obi-Wan turned to his former pupil.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Yes, I know, it's an honor to serve the Republic." he said finishing Obi-Wan's sentences before he could form them. A smile touched Obi-Wan's face. He had learned well.
"So, does this mean I go too?" Ahsoka asked.
"Well you are my Padawan and I definitely think you'll find this a most...enlightening experience." Anakin said in his best imitation of Obi-Wan. "Let's not forget that someone's got to keep me from becoming bored." Anakin grinned.
Ahsoka raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't you sure it's not supposed to be the other way around?"
"Absolutely."
"Let's go." Obi-Wan said gesturing to both of them. "We best not keep Master Windu in system as long as we're aboard."
"Indeed. Good luck you three. May the Force be with you."
Assembly Room 20, UNSC Infinity
9:36 Hours UNSC Standard Military Time/Calendar
Jerome S-092
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
The leader of Spartan Red Team turned to Alice, the third member of his Team, who was looking over the footage from this mornings almost-brawl between Fireteam Castle and Fireteam Shadow. He sighed. It was commendable that William had held his ground and refused to have been cowed by two Spartans, even if he did send Spartan Issac into a table because he tried lashing out a Spartan. There were many questions that were left unanswered by the Captain and Commander Palmer; he hadn't banked on ONI being so heavily involved in the mysterious case of these two Spartans.
Spartans.
The word tasted funny in his mouth.
This was a Spartan?
This seething figure in the playback feed was a Spartan?
This figure that had picked a fight? His companion that tried attacking when another Spartan's back was turned?
These were Spartans?
He sighed. He had his work cut out from them. They were nothing but children in fancy armor hyped up on fancy drugs. Granted, he was looking at a case of two oddities, but overall he was more disgusted with the Spartan IV's than anything else. They had every advantage over his generation. Safer augmentation, better armor, their own branch in the military, and state of the art facilities to train in. If he and his class had the ability to train in a room like the War Games facilities on Infinity, who knows how much better they could have been. It wasn't a long shot to say that his generation might have had sticks and rocks technologically speaking, and the best humanity had come up with was this?
If there was one thing good to say about them, it was that they at least performed better than other Special Forces. There was also a string of good things going for them from Requiem, but there was too much for him to dwell on the good.
He could respect the Spartan III's, in fact, he was beginning to hold them in regard like he did with the other II's, but the IV's, with the exception of Fireteam Crimson and Charon, were performing far below his expectations.
"Red Lead?"
He looked up to see Alice's concerned face staring at him.
"Our duty to is to help protect humanity." Jerome said finally. "If training these soldiers will help, then so be it. We're Spartans. We're meant to adapt to new situations and come out on top."
"Yeah, but are they?"
Douglas made his appearance now, walking in front of the projection and giving him a serious look.
"What would Mendez say if he saw them?" he asked.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Jerome was tempted to voice his own thoughts but restrained himself. It was counter-productive to voice complaints. Alice sighed. She, out of all them, was the most sympathetic towards the Four's but there was no denying that there were some problems that needed to be fixed.
"He would be disappointed." he finally said judiciously for Alice's sake. "But he would also tell us that our most critical duty for us after any war is for us to pass on what we learned."
"Feels weird to assume his position." Alice said finally. "I feel like any moment now he should be coming through that door and telling us to give him 500."
"It does. But we'll make it work." Jerome reaffirmed.
"Well it's about time. Let's see if we have anybody who listened to orders." Douglas said waving him towards the door.
They all turned and stepped out of the small briefing room they were in.
Assembly Room 20 was designed to accommodate a large number of Spartan Operatives for macro-level briefings for missions in the War Games room. Right now he would speak to all of the ones assigned to the day shift. He would give the same speech to the other group on the night-shift.
It was 9:36 and the first group of Spartans appeared through the door in full armor. Fireteam Rapier walked inside in sync. For a team so relatively young, they had quite an impressive record under their belts. He watched as they walked to the front of the room and stood at parade rest. Their body language was evidence of some communication but he guessed it was most likely confined to the private channels. Moments later Fireteam Castle walked inside. Both Fireteams had moved fluidly without a sound, but Fireteam Castle didn't convey any of the faint signs of communication that Rapier did. They were more restrained in their movements, probably due to their age over the younger Fireteam Rapier. Castle reminded him of Red Team when they were very much still young. Moments later Fireteam Crimson appeared, again showcasing the same restrained motion that Castle did.
He was gratified that these three teams had shown up first. He would need their help in training the other teams and was gratified that there was more than one Fireteam he could call upon.
He moved to the podium on the balcony that overlooked the room and four images appeared. He saw Crimson stiffen slightly. Good. He didn't expect Fireteam Rapier or Castle to recognize the images he was displaying, but Fireteam Crimson understood. That alone would make his message that much easier to convey.
As ten o'clock approached Fireteams started trickling in one by one. Some had given more heed to his warnings and looked more alert and ready, other Spartans were chuckling, talking among themselves, and acting in a way that more matched Marines than Spartans. His suit's audio sensors caught the trail end of a comment about "brain-washed super soldiers" and only tightened his stance by a hair. Of course they wouldn't understand. Was it the training from childhood? The years of combat in situations were survival would have ordinarily been measured in minutes?
Douglas expressed his frustration with several winking lights on the HUD and Jerome was inclined to agree. They were almost two minutes late and they were still missing three quarters of everyone he had wanted to be here. His briefing started at 10:00 whether they were here or not.
Another minute later an enormous wave of Spartans came through the doors followed by uniformed personnel deemed "Handlers". Personally, it didn't make sense why they used augmented operatives as the tiny pieces that kept the Spartan program running behind the scenes. He made a note to talk to Lasky about this.
The last person to enter was Commander Palmer who stood at the back with helmet on decidedly avoiding his gaze. He understood why. He had given her a dressing down after the fiasco at breakfast. It wasn't meant out of hurt or spite, but Jerome knew that some of his frustration had been needless. Still there were a few things that he needed to address with her, like how she disappeared to interrogate Doctor Halsey and turned off her comlink when someone else could have done the job. He tried not to let his personal bias interfere. Doctor Halsey was, for all intents and purposes, the mother figure in their lives. The details regarding her abduction and capture by the enemy were a little murky, but that could wait for later. Right now he and his other two siblings had a mission to complete.
Red Team was not really one for speeches but they had all decided that Jerome was probably the best suited to address the Spartan congregation. Captain Cutter had given him a few words of advice, but he wished for a moment that he was like Mendez, the man who had motivated all of them to push themselves past their limits.
His mission clocked ticked to 10:00 and he finally called them to attention, his voice amplified by the speakers in his helmet, and the group instantly snapped to attention and saluted.
"At ease." he finally said as he looked over the crowd of Spartans. He took a long moment to look over the collective group.
"Why are we here?" he asked.
Nobody answered. He saw a few tentative hands raise.
"Don't give me philosophy. Why are here? Why are we having this meeting?" he repeated the question.
"Because Captain Lasky believes were not performing well enough." someone from Fireteam Ivy responded.
His gaze fastened on the Spartan who seemed to wilt slightly under his gaze.
"You are correct. But we're here for more than simply the Captain thinking you're not good enough. Requiem should have been a wake up call Spartans. You seem to forget that war isn't merely a game of who's army is better than who's. It's politics, religion, ideology, logistics, and the fact that the UNSC invests more money and resources in our tiny branch than much of the rest of the armed forces. There's armor. There's augmentations. There's the fact that each of you is worth hundreds, if not thousands of un-augmented recruits. I've been told you're the best and brightest taken from all of our branches. That may be true, but when just one of you is killed in combat, the resources that could have equipped platoons of infantry is needlessly wasted. And right now Spartans, this spending seems more wanton than it is justified."
The chatter and laid back atmosphere among the Spartans instantly evaporated. There were more than a few not wearing helmets and Jerome watched them run the gauntlet of emotions before letting the moment sink in just a little bit more before continuing.
"Why do we spend so much on you? What justifies the UEG in committing a significant portion of their budget towards your branch? Because you're Spartans. When the enemy hears your name their first reaction should be fear. Fear is a powerful tool. It weakens your enemies resolve, it sabotages their strength, it has the power to rout entire armies. Look at the last war we fought. We, along with many others, created the legacy and mythology that surrounds your branch now. We are the soldiers who gained you the affectionate term of "Demon". We gave you a psychological edge, a force multiplier that would make even the bravest Elite think twice about taking us on, an edge that caused Brutes to lose their bravado, an edge that would send Grunts away from the battlefield screaming in panic."
He paused and observed their reactions.
"We're not invincible, nobody is, but I can promise that should the enemy ever stop to realize that you're just superior human troops, not supernatural forces sent to claim your enemies souls, that you're going to create a negative feedback cycle. Your enemy will come to accept your presence on the battlefield. They will not rout, they will not panic, they will not make sloppy decisions. Instead they will rally back and fight harder than ever which makes your job of protecting humanity much more difficult."
He saw looks of disbelief among some and denial among others.
"You think I'm lying? Look around you Spartans. It's already begun to happen. Jul 'Mdama took full advantage of this with Requiem and his subsequent campaigns. He understood this very well and look how many problems it caused for you there. We face a new enemy now. If you fail to carry this legacy on, this war that we were dragged into will cost many more lives before its over. To win, we have to correct an unfortunate oversight among your ranks. If we are going to improve your survival chances, we're going to start by requiring those of you on duty to wear all of your armor. That includes your helmets."
Unease rippled through the ranks.
"But we already wear them all the time when we're on missions. Why on earth would I wear the stuffy thing on the ship?" he heard some faintly whisper.
Jerome fastened on the voice which came from one of Fireteam Rhino's members.
"Spartan. Who are these people displayed on screen?"
"Uh... They're Spartans that were killed."
"And where were they killed?"
"This ship." the Spartan said quieter. "Promethean forces boarded it and-"
"How many others died on board this ship?"
"Two, sir."
"And why are they not pictured?"
A moment passed.
"Because they were wearing helmets." he said so quietly Jerome barely picked it up.
"Louder."
"Because they were wearing helmets sir!" he yelped.
"Exactly. Four of humanities best soldiers killed by hardlight pulses to the head. A feat any competent enemy would be capable of, a feat that would have been made harder if they were wearing helmets which, in its most basic form, costs as much as a single Spartan Laser. Your helmet is a sophisticated piece of technology. Sensor arrays, motion trackers, biological, chemical, and radiation filters, sealed and hardened for exo-atmospheric operations, and that's not to mention the shield generator built into your helmet. That money is not put forth to good use when you fail to utilize it. From now on all on duty Spartans are to be wearing full armor. Your helmet is as much a part of your uniform as is the rest of your armor. If you fail to comply with this, your Commander will start restricting privileges and, if you continue to disregard this most basic of protocols, you can be subject to a sentence in the brig, a court martial, or even complete discharge from the Spartan Corps with the removal of your augmentations. A process I've been told is extremely painful."
All around, those without their helmets quietly slipped them on.
"There's a second matter to attend to, the cohesion of your branch. I've been told that some of you, even your Commander refer to the scientific minds stationed on this ship as "eggheads". This is unacceptable. These scientists are the ones that keep your armor in perfect condition, that create the facilities for you to use, that keep humanity steadily progressing forward. Your lives are indebted to them in more ways than one. Do not diminish their importance with names so carelessly tossed about."
"Second point." he said after another pause. "I realize that you come from a variety of branches. As such you've brought with you your respective cultures, and with that, your respective rivalries. I want it to be perfectly clear that the Spartan Corps is no place for inter-service rivalries. You are Spartans. Any act that says otherwise is unacceptable; which brings me to breakfast."
The Spartans assembled were all looking very uncomfortable at this point with the exception of Fireteam Castle and Rapier who were completely still.
"As a Spartan, you should never have to live in fear of factionalism from within and without. I was disturbed to see children egging each other on for a fight. Not Spartans, not ODST's, not Sailors, Marines, Troopers, or Airmen. Children. You are all split into Fireteams but you are part of a larger team. The Spartan Branch cannot be divided between itself or it will fall. That cannot be allowed to happen. It cannot be allowed to fall. You are the inheritors of our legacy. The public will expect you to be the next Blue or Red Team. They're going to expect feats out of you that rival our own. Some of this will be impossible for you because things back then were different. But I, and my team, are going to get you as close to that as possible. We're going to move to implement larger operations in War Games rather than the one on one fights you're used to. You're branch is at the size and capacity to take on entire operations by yourselves and we plan to start doing this very, very soon."
Jerome cleared his throat and pointed to the holograms. Images and more holograms spawned into existence replacing the images of the fallen Spartans.
"With the permission of the Brass, Captain Lasky, and Commander Palmer, we're going to implement a new War Games variant and restructure your training. Today you'll experience that first new change."
"You're first act of training today will be what is called Warzone."
A series of hologram reassembled themselves into the basic outline of a map. Other holograms began flashing images rapidly.
"Warzone is going to be unlike anything you've experienced before. You've had missions before with simulated enemies and other Spartans, but never on a scale like this. At it's most basic tier, Warzone features combat on a large-scale with two teams of 12 Spartans. You will be facing off against each other on large maps populated by simulated AI-controlled Covenant and Promethean enemies. Your training will incorporate a heavily updated and revised holographic AI to fight against. Some of these simulations will be "Boss" units of different rankings and difficulties that will occasionally appear on the battlefield."
The holograms flashed a series of said bosses, silver armored Hunters, golden colored Knights, a Sangheili in a Banshee.
"Your team achieves victory by attaining 1000 points which will be gained by killing opposing Spartans and AI's enemies. But, just to mix things up a little bit, each map will contain a base from which you may stage assaults. Capturing and holding all three points will remove the bases systems. You may win by destroying a fusion core inside that base. In the beginning of a match both teams will be "dropped" to their respective bases via Pelican and have to clear the base of enemies. A contingent of AI-controlled Marines, aligned with either team, will also be stationed in each base. Do not underestimate them. Part of this game will utilize a Requisition system to help you in achieving your objectives. There are a total of nine different levels which you may steadily progress through depending on your performance which you can utilize to spawn in anything from a Needler to a Scorpion tank."
The discomfort evaporated among the Spartans and some were obviously eager to try this new system out.
"Three more things and then we will spend the day running you through the new games. First, the number of Spartans needed for a full game has been established at 12 per team. Simulations have shown that the War Games room is more than able to accommodate teams up to 50 Spartans in size. For these larger scale operations we will be utilizing the Handlers to coordinate logistics. We will also be running you through different scenarios. Perhaps you might have contact with your handlers, but your opponent may not. Your supply of vehicles might be limited, you might be forced to deal with low caliber munitions, there might only be two points to capture, regardless, it is the expectation of Captain Lasky, Commander Palmer, and us, that you will adapt and overcome whatever might be thrown your way. Teamwork is vital to your success."
He paused and watched their reactions. The majority of the Spartans were excited. Time to burst their bubble slightly.
"The second point is this. After every exercise I will require your Fireteam Leaders to write up a report detailing your successes, failures, and where you think you can improve. These will be reviewed by ourselves, the Captain, and your Commander who will send back notes on your performance. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, circumstances permitting, we will have days devoted entirely to small scale training."
A small groan escaped some of the lips of the Spartans which Jerome ignored.
"Finally, some of the bosses are still being worked out by Roland and the other AI's, so, in the mean time while the bugs are being fixed, We're going to fill in as some of your opposition in Warzone and you can expect to face us as your opposition in regular War Games. Commander Palmer will give you your assignments in a few minutes. The room as of this moment is being set up right now. Those of you currently not fighting will be observing the action. Good luck Spartans."
S-Deck, Dormitories
Rooms 335-336, Fireteam Castle
21:56 Hours UNSC Standard Military Time/Calendar
Spartan William Gunther
The doors to Fireteam Castle's quarters hissed open and eight weary Spartans half-stumbled, half dragged themselves through the doorway.
"Ugh." groaned Felix as he immediately took a seat in the common room. "Next time I get this excited over a training routine, please, someone shoot me."
"Speak for yourself." Chelsea hissed as she massaged her temples
"So, thoughts?" Asher asked as the rest of Castle took a seat.
"Are they trying to kill us?" Brittany asked. "I hate being given just an MA5 and M6 in the beginning. What's the point of that?"
"I'll agree with you on that one." Will said as he retrieved a stack of paper he had to fill out for every one of the exercises his team went through today. They were part of the first game of Warzone. Easy enough to win once they united the other Fireteams together with a plan, but once the difficulty started increasing in following rounds, it had succeeded in testing Will's decision-making and combat skills. "I'm about to write a formal complaint and petition to have something better than an M6 at range. I get the point of why did they did it, it just makes things harder."
"I'm not sure what they did to those Hunter AI's but those things never move that fast...right?" Elizabeth asked nursing a badly bruised leg with ice, courtesy of one of the Hunter AI's smashing her with its shield so hard that she literally flew across a quarter of the map. In real life, a hit like that would have almost certainly been fatal. Spartan bones were strong, but even they had their limit. Whatever safety and realism protocols they had in place, they let you know if you screwed up in a painful way.
"Well it was a boss." Hansu pointed out. "Besides, I told you getting close wasn't going to work."
"Yeah, and we expended way too much ammunition on it from far away like you suggested." Brittany countered taking up Elizabeth's side.
"That's enough." Asher said putting up a hand and ending the argument.
"Fine. Next time we run into that stupid Swarmlord Naga-whatever-the-heck-that-name-was, I'm letting you fight that one by yourself." Hansu said which caused the entire team, despite their exhaustion, to burst into laughter.
"How about that Grunt Goblin?" William asked.
A loud and frustrated groan issued from the mouths of the other Spartans and Will was tempted to smile at their reaction.
"You said we would never speak of that again!" Asher interjected annoyed. Will couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm sorry Castle Two, can we appreciate for a moment when that thing dropped from the sky? I don't think I've ever seen you pull a U and drive away in the other direction so fast in my lifetime."
"What was I supposed to do?!" she asked defensively. "I didn't know what it was, you didn't know what it was, and nobody, not even the freaking Handlers themselves knew what it was!"
"Well our team found that out the hard way. You think DeMarco's going to be okay after he lead that charge in the Scorpion tank?"
"What, the one that lasted a total of seven seconds?" she asked. "He'll be okay. His pride might not recover though." Brittany said allowing a smile to cross her scowling face.
"Well I'll tell you what. If I see one of those on the battlefield I'm putting in my two weeks notice." Ralph said seriously. "What on Earth were they thinking? Immune to system overload, a giant frickin' needler cannon, a needler barrage, and the fact it can jump half-way across the frickin' battlefield? Did Grunts decide suddenly they wanted to become Spartans?"
"And it punches harder than that Hunter does!" Elizabeth said wincing as she adjusted the ice pack she was holding.
"I almost like fighting Red Team better." Asher grimaced.
"You can't be serious." William replied. "Right?"
Fighting Red Team one on one had been the equivalent of taking on a Covenant Army with paintball guns. It was essentially suicide. Red Team had managed to wreak havoc to the best of plans whenever they had shown up. They had been a wildcard, taking on Covenant and Spartan alike. Fireteam Castle and Rapier had managed to knock out Douglas with relatively little effort and Alice with an exorbitant amount of rockets, Spartan Lasers, grenades, and support from two Mantises.
"I'd fight Red Team any day over that...thing." she said failing to find a word suitable.
"I'll put that in my report." William said scribbling some notes on their overall performance on a sheet of paper.
"Don't you-"
"Too late." he said as he made a few notes absentmindedly. "Care to see for yourself?"
He handed the paper to her, devoid of her comment, and watched her reaction.
"You officially suck." Asher said after the rest of the team had finished chuckling.
"That's my job as leader, right?"
"Well, if you're going to "include" that, how about you add the part where you thought a wing of Banshees meant four or five, not 12."
"Okay," he said putting the pen down. "In my defense, a wing generally refers to four or five."
"And you should have realized that they might have been giving misleading intel." Asher commented.
He sighed. She had a point. "Yeah, you're right. I'll put that in the report to be fair." he answered. He moved to a quieter corner of the room and let the conversation go on while he concentrated on getting through the massive stack of paperwork. The identities of the speakers largely faded away as he worked.
Where to begin? He decided he would do the easier reports first before tackling the harder ones.
William preferred the Warzone Assault matches, the ones similar to Territories or Invasion that he had played before in Training. At least there was only one other side to worry about. He hated Warzone Firefight. Being backed up to a corner with a limited mission clock to defend a base one round before running to the other side to eliminate a Wraith squadron was not his idea of fun. The normal Warzone was okay as long as you were on the winning side with all the bases. If you weren't? It was more of a game of pick one side of the base and hold it as long as possible. Some Spartans were content with throwing their "lives" away, William didn't see the point in that. They had lost the last game because they had been forced to retreat back to where they initially started.
In the end, no matter how many soldiers he took down, they weren't able to hold the base, even when Fireteam Majestic had the genius idea of piling Warthogs up in the middle of the base to cover the doorways. It had helped, but they still lost.
"Hey, I think we can all agree that throwing fifty Spartans against each other is a really bad idea. Right?" Chelsea asked as she moved to sit opposite of William.
"Totally a bad idea. I'm surprised we didn't blow a hole through the ship, especially when everyone decided to grab a tank or SPNKR and shoot on sight." Brittany shook her head.
"You kidding me? That was the best part. I don't know who's idea it was to get a Rocket Warthog charge to counter it. That was just plain stupid."
"That was Fireteam Titan's idea." Felix pointed out. "To be fair Ralph, It would have worked if Fireteam Shadow hadn't blocked the road by accident with the Wraith."
"Ha! Not even their fault. There was plenty of room to go around. The Wraith was disabled anyways."
"Well we can agree that Warzone Turbo was responsible for the best scenes of action ever. I've never seen so many explosions. Can you imagine a Warzone Turbo Firefight Assualt?"
Without meaning to, Will's pen scribbled the words Warzone Turbo Firefight Assault in the Additional Comments section of one of his reports.
He froze and put the pen aside roughly. The gesture wasn't missed by his number two.
"Please don't tell me you just wrote that down on accident." Asher said nervously.
"I...uhm, well..." he said looking around for a bottle of white-out on the desk.
"Will?" she asked dangerously.
"I plead the fifth?" he tried.
"Darn it William! If that suggestion becomes reality, I'm shoving you in an airlock and throwing you into space!" she fumed.
"I'll make sure to pack my toothbrush." he grumbled as he put the papers aside and decided he would finish them tomorrow after some much needed rest.
25 Utimak Street
Sah'c Town, Republic City
Coruscant, Coruscant System, Core Worlds
Fugitive Zek Lhar
"How many times do I have to tell you, no. I can't have you going outside yet. I'm working on setting up connections. Trust me, you'll get off this planet." Dax rounded on Zek for the fifth time that day.
"This place stinks. Are you sure I can't just stick my head out the door?" Zek grumbled unhappily.
"You'd be recognized instantly as an alien."
"Let's examine the irony of that-"
"Don't." Dax held up a hand.
Zek sighed and went back to cleaning the needle rifle he had from his encounter. It wasn't the most inconspicuous of weapons, but it wasn't about to put faith in a blaster, no matter how much superior Dax claimed them to be.
Ever since their near fiasco at the Opera House Dax had been really concerned about his safety. Zek supposed there was some logic to this, he was after all AWOL. He had no doubts that Repubic Intelligence had communicated with ONI about his status, and they were living in one of Dax's safe-houses. No doubt they were scouring that place for information right now.
He suppressed a hiss of pain as his personal armor skin contracted itself too tightly. Let ONI come. He would exact his revenge for giving him this accursed suit that seemed to have a mind of it's own.
"Did you move the tools to the hangar?" Dax asked after a minute.
"Yeah."
"Good. If our contact pulls through, we'll get to a spaceport. Sooner we get you off planet, the better."
"You not coming?"
"Outside of Coruscant I'm essentially a wanted man. I suppose our heist made me a wanted man too."
"So it makes perfect sense for you to stay."
"Yeah, it does."
"Just go fix the speeder. I wish you would have let me kill the idiot who ran into us."
"And what good would that have done?"
"It would have made me feel better." Zek shrugged his shoulders and walked to the window. Dax made some comment under his breath and disappeared. He opened the blinds slightly and peeked out. There wasn't much sunlight in this part of the city where they were. What there wasn't a lot of, was people. Where did they all go?"
He had a bad feeling about this.
Almost at once the windows shattered and an object was thrown in. A flash-bang?
He turned away the moment it exploded in pure light and sound which especially hurt Zek because of his physiology.
Yep, definitely a flash-bang.
He scampered back and picked up the Needle rifle before arming it. He took cover behind a table and waited.
"Zek Lhar, you are under arrest for theft, assault, murder, theft of UNSC property, and for impersonating a soldier. This is your one chance to come with us. Take it, or we will kill you." someone shouted over an external speaker.
So, ONI had sent Agents for him.
He saw the outline of one, shifted his aim, and fired. He heard a cry, someone cursed, and surpressed gunfire immediately poured down on his position. He flipped the table over and retreated behind the relative safety of a couch. This wasn't good.
"What's going on!" he heard Dax roar from below.
"I met some friends. Want to introduce yourself?"
"I'm not fond of the idea, no."
"How soon until that speeder is running?"
"Give me a minute! I'm almost done!"
Part of the wall exploded. Sounded like a Stanchion rifle was being used. They weren't messing around this time.
He shifted and fired twice more, but wasn't able to tell whether his shots hit. What he did do was anger them more.
He ducked again. Instead of hearing gunfire he heard the sounds of blaster fire. Had Dax abandoned escape and flanked the agents?
The gunfire stopped.
"It's alright. I've taken care of them." Dax said hoarsely.
Zek popped his head up. Where he expected to see Dax he saw only four Clone Troopers in jetblack and white armor.
What? Was the only concrete thought he could form before everything exploded into motion.
They fired something at him, it wasn't a bolt, but a ray of some sort. He didn't want to find out much more than that.
He leaped out of cover and fired. One of the needles bounced harmlessly off the armor, a second one embedded itself and staggered one of the Troopers for a second. He fired again and this time the needle deflected off the shoulder pauldron. So, needle rifles weren't any good. He still had a perfectly good pistol.
He dropped the gun and drew his pistol in a moment before firing. Needles may not have worked, but plasma did. He thumbed the trigger and held it until it started shaking violently. He rolled out of the way and fired. One of the troopers lost the ability to walk when the overcharged bolt seared into the clones leg melting armor and cooking flesh. Plasma again beat everything.
His small victory was suddenly ended when he felt the air whistle behind him and he was knocked on his face and felt bindings being shoved around his hands.
Immediately the Clones piled on him. Despite his strength and speed, Zek was trapped.
"Quit squirming you little bugger." the Clone that had spoke in Dax's voice returned to a very professional tone.
He had no intention of doing so and lashed out mixing profanity from every language he knew into his struggle.
"Oi, we need to get a move on before people notice we're here." one of them shouted.
One of the Clones sighed. "I'm sorry we have to do this." he said somewhat remorsefully.
Zek felt a sharp pain, and everything went black.
Don't you love cliffhangers? Especially the ones that you can see coming? I'll try not to test your arm strength with the waiting period for the next chapter.
So, to recap, we have just about all the major players in this story getting involved in this chapter. Someone asked me last chapter why I do this if this is a story about Will? It's a perfectly valid question. My answer to that is this: Each of the other characters will have some influence on William's story. I can't just throw events into the plot though without giving you some minor backstory that leads up. So, while we see William get trapped in a galaxy far, far away, we also get to see how others will manipulate events to suit their purposes. There is some minor foreshadowing hidden in some of these scenes. Debatable? Probably. I hope in the grand scheme of things it works out.
After this chapter some of you may be wondering why is it that ONI is now seemingly involved in everything? There's an excellent reason for that but of course I can't go telling you because it wouldn't be very fun now, would it.
I hope some of you guys like the addition of Red Team. I brought them into the story, I can't exactly just send them out again, right? I've tried to stick to canon the best I can, but with Halo 5: Guardians and the announcement of Halo Wars 2, this is becoming more and more of a challenging act. I mean, crossovers in the first place are about as non-canon as you can go. I did also bring Warzone into the story. Why not? It's a completely canonical element of Spartan Training.
On a lighter note, I hope Swarmlord Naga-what-ever-the-heck-that-thing-is-called or Tomp: Fury of Balaho hasn't completely ruined your day like it has for me on more than one occasion. Before you ask, at the moment I'm not including Warden Eternal, that's just a bridge I'll have to cross later-assuming I ever do. I'm open to suggestions if you're willing to make them on how I could do so.
One final note: Do you happen to be a fan of the Hunger Games Trilogy? I've (re)started a new project and dare I say that it's doing better than the previous version did before. I would highly suggest that you go read it. There's my shameless bit of advertising for you. I'll catch you guys around soon! Please remember that I am always looking for new ideas to help drive this story forward. Think you have one of merit? Shoot a PM to me. I'm also still looking for more beta-readers. I'd be happy to have you on the team.
Yours in writing,
theotherpianist