Chapter 15 – Coopernate
May 9th, 2545 (07:30 Hours – Military Calendar)
Aquilla System, Actium
High Mediolanum, Republic of Pavia
HMPD Headquarters
:********:
The HMPD HQ's conference hall hadn't changed whatsoever in the day since Duncan had last been here. So why did it feel like it had changed so much? That was something he was trying to figure out as he sat with Squad Epsilon in the second row of seats among the entirety of Bravo Company.
Bravo was numbering at 180 strong, 70 down from its previous 250 due to the last day's tumultuous landing and subsequent fighting that left some 27 WIAs, 31 KIAs and 12 MIAs. From what he'd heard, out of the 7th's companies, Delta had received the highest casualties since they led the initial charge into Rhodes. However, even that paled in comparison to the near annihilation of the 22nd's own Delta Company.
They couldn't simply let the Covenant kill each other by themselves since there was always a chance for Elite intervention to calm the hostilities, so they had to push in and take advantage of the wide-spread chaos as soon as was tactically feasible. But Duncan wondered how many more lives would have been saved if they really did let the aliens have at each other.
He also wondered what would have happened differently if the Spartans had been there then like they were here now.
Four of the armored supersoliders stood at silent, ramrod attention. They were the focus of every ODST in the room, many of whom were whispering amongst themselves about different things all pertaining to them. For better or worse, their presence here was a reminder of just how unusual things were getting in High Mediolanum.
Colonel Garrison stood in front of them on the stage as he waited for the last arriving trooper to close the door behind him. Then the lights dimmed except for on the stage.
"Boys and girls of Bravo Company, welcome to your next day in the inferno. It's been a rough first day but we've managed to push back our enemy. Now, there is a very different theater of operations that we must attend to in order to strike the Covenant where it will hurt them most. And in case you were wondering..."
He turned and held out a hand towards the Spartans. "This is Blue Team. They're the ones who discovered the object of today's briefing. You'll get a chance to familiarize yourselves with them since you'll be working under them for this operation."
The Colonel's last sentence sent a shock to the collective system of every ODST sitting before him, causing any lingering whispers to instantly evaporate. The Spartans kept at their silent vigil over the room, their golden visors and intimidating armor showing no signs of anything catching them off guard.
Duncan glanced around to check the other's reactions. Save for Mito and Renni who still looked taken aback, the rest of the squad might as well have been wearing polarized visors. Their faces betrayed no indication of anything except a cold, long stare centered on the Spartans.
He shifted his attention back to the stage. Sure enough, he recognized them as the exact same ones that saved them and Squad Razor at the De Gaulle Starport's Terminal C on Miridem. Though he could recall the helmet variations worn by the first four Spartans he had ever seen, the numbers on their left breastplates identified them best: '104', '059', '087' and '117'. The last number belonged to the Spartan whose helmet had a squarish, angular frame with an inverted, trapezoidal visor. If his memory served him correctly, that one was called the Master Chief. He was pretty sure 104 was a guy and 059 and 087 were women judging by their subtly smaller physiques compared to the first two. Smaller, sure, but it wasn't like he was about to challenge any of them to an arm-wrestling match. He wasn't ready for a prosthetic limb just yet.
After a palpable silence, Garrison continued. "Now we can move on to the matter at hand. The Master Chief will be taking over from this point onward." He stepped aside to let 117 take his place on the stage.
The moment his last clanging footfall resounded across the hall, the projection devices activated and emitted what Duncan could only describe as a 3-dimensional portrayal of a desert in the middle of the stage. He gradually pieced together that the denuded landscape had been made so by water rather than wind, the obvious signs being the waving patterns only possible of deep-sea currents. The support struts of several oil rigs at the far corners of the image were also a dead giveaway.
The Chief began. "At 1120 Hours yesterday, my team was sent to investigate the seafloor 4 kilometers west of Icaria Island under the suspicion of a possible Covenant broadcasting source being located there. We utilized telemetry probes to conduct an ultrasound imaging signal analysis of the underwater topography over 2 square kilometers. What you're about to see are the final results of the tertiary scans."
Four small rods appeared on the center of the landscape which proceeded to emit spheres of red light that expanded outward before overlapping. What remained in between them was a red blob that the software resolved into a final, multi-contoured visage.
The sight of it brought a resurgence of confused looks and whispers among the Bravo Company troopers.
"What...is that?" Nova asked. She looked between Duncan and the Staff, the latter of which shook his head, his brow furrowing.
To Duncan, his best guess was that it was some sort of alien parliamentary building sitting on the bottom of the Koronea Sea. He began logically backtracking along a list of Covenant base structures he'd seen on FLEETCOM's declassified data drops and concluded it was some sort of citadel.
The structure was comprised of three bulbous, ovular substructures connected via docking tubes. The first two metal blimp-like constructions were spread out akin to a north and south wing and were slightly lower than the third wing which was the largest and faced eastward. The entire complex, adorned with angular arrays like moss covered crustaceans, was setup over a web of support struts and interlocking gantries on the seafloor.
"This is a Covenant Command Center." The Master Chief said, confirming Duncan's suspicions. "We believe they are using it to organize their groundside efforts from a safe distance. Its elimination will essentially disable the coordination of forces defending the last tier of the city. However, there is another important detail linked to this location and its vital nature goes without saying."
Another projector emitted the visual form of a figure Epsilon knew well. It was the Minister of Iconography. The prophet had its hands raised in a prayer but was paused in a freeze-frame.
"We believe this prophet that goes by the title 'Minister of Iconography' is presently housed in this location since this is the source of his broadcasting signal sent to holo-pedestals across High Mediolanum. Logically, this is the safest and most remote site for a high value individual to be located. It is my team's objective, and now yours as of today, to capture him."
The holograph changed to show six yellow Albatross dropships hovering just over the surface of the water above the command center. As he was speaking, scores of yellow dots dropped from the aircrafts into the water and began heading down towards the target. "The current plan is for us to mount an underwater insertion via Albatrosses that will transport the entire company. You will be using SCUBA equipment specialized for your BDUs, specifically the PSMA-92 Harnesses that are being provided for this mission."
Next to appear were two new images. One of them Duncan identified as a projected model of the Pressurized Submersible Maneuverability Apparatus or PSMA-92. The model came with a CBRN module meant for deployment in chemical, biological and radiological hazardous zones. It could be attached to the mouth area of the trooper's helmets as a single-piece rebreather that could extend the user's limited oxygen supply. There were also several other key features in the form of the back-mounted harness, attachable oxygen reserve tanks, fins with dismountable ankle-bracers as well as a depth-gauge and dive computer mounted to the right arm bracer.
The second object was far larger than the first at being nearly the height of five people. Its upper half was composed of a seating area with exterior handles. The pair-mounted nuclear fusion engines at its base were each the size of a Mongoose with recursive thrusters established at different points along the upper body. This one Duncan recognized as a CF89 Booster Frame.
"At Stage-1 of the operation, designated Carrier teams carrying these CF89 Booster Frames will be escorted down the 500-meter distance needed to reach the command center. They will then use the device's anchorage function to connect the frames to specially selected grapple points along the hull. Demolition Teams will also plant C-12 shaped charges that have been specially vetted and allowed by higher-ups for this mission. Their target will be the primary and secondary support struts keeping it anchored to the seafloor."
The holograph showed a shower of yellow dots dispersing around the structure then connecting dozens of the rectangular representations for booster frames onto varying points along its surface. At the same time, others moved to plant smaller, circular representations of C-12 along the supports.
"At Stage-2, Extraction teams will use breaching charges to break through entrances on the undersides of command center. Their objective will be to locate and capture the prophet as our HVI. Secondary objectives will be to eliminate any and all hostile contacts and the capture of other possible leadership-related entities within the center."
On the imaging, dozens of the dots arced down and into the undersides of the command center's three substructures before pouring inside, subsequently turning the entire construction the same color.
"Once both of those aims have been achieved, we'll move on to Stage-3. Our Carrier teams will activate their booster frames anchored along the hull simultaneously with the Demolition teams detonating the C-12 charges placed on the support struts. The explosions will tear the structure from the seafloor while also being strategically placed so as to give the entire command center an upward push. The boosters can then take advantage of that momentum to carry the center itself to the surface. At 200 meters, Corps of Engineers Marines from the 27th's 8th Battalion will deploy magnetic harpoon reels from the two nearest oil rigs, Odyssey and Theseus that should connect to the center's hull and pull it to the surface. From there, the Extraction teams can remove the HVI for withdrawal into UNSC custody."
Finally, the holograph showed the command center's struts detonating while the booster frames carried it up to a certain point where the two nearest rigs could shoot out long lines that connected to its frame. Then it was reeled in like three conjoined jellyfish caught by a pair of fishermen.
The Master Chief allowed the image to stay for a few more seconds to let the troopers take everything in. Then he waved his gauntleted hand and it dissipated. The lights winked on across the hall, revealing the deeply focused faces of the rows of ODSTs sitting beyond the stage.
"We will leave the HMPD HQ at 1120 Hours. The HVI extraction operation will begin at approximately 1200. We have 4 hours to make the necessary preparations. As for weapons, there won't be a need for any heavy-duty ordinance except breaching charges for the Extraction teams and shape charges for the Demolition teams. Short to mid-range weapons take priority. Are there any questions?"
There was silence as the troopers looked among themselves to see if anyone was brave enough to ask. Then Hotel-7 held up his hand in the front row where he sat with the rest of his squad. The Chief nodded for him to speak. As he stood, Duncan noticed his thin eyebrows creased in frustration, his square jaw locked in a devious smile.
"Yeah, I've got a question. This one's for the Colonel though, not you."
Garrison gazed upon the young private with suspicion as the man glanced between both authority figures on the stage.
"Excuse me, sir, why is it a bunch of toy soldiers are leading us on this op and not you? We don't need a bunch of robots telling us what to do in a-"
Hotel-7 never got to finish as his squad leader, Hotel-1, violently grabbed him by the collar of his BDU and yanked him down into his seat. A commotion arose among the company from snide smiles and agreeing laughs to confused glances and worried looks.
Neither the Chief nor the rest of Blue Team showed any hint of a reaction.
Colonel Garrison suddenly stepped forward. He didn't have to say a word. The sharpness of his gaze alone cut the commotion at its knees and returned the hall to a deft silence. "Are there any real questions?"
At first it seemed no one was willing to ask any further. Then Rico held up a hand. "I have one."
The Chief nodded to him as he stood.
"I get using certified C-12 for this op, but how do those charges alone have the power to propel the structure off the ground? Sure, the boosters are powerful but how can they lift that entire thing 300 meters once its initial blast inertia subsides?"
"We have a solution for that as well, although I wanted to explain it in better detail in the later run-throughs." The Spartan used his hand to summon another projection of the command center. Then the image focused in on a wide-shot of the ground beneath it, capturing in greater detail the field of oceanic thermal vents jutting out of the seafloor like active volcanoes.
"These hydrothermal vents lying just beneath the center release large quantities of hydrogen sulfide and will be within proximity of the blast radius when the struts are destroyed. The moment the blast from the C-12 reaches these hydrogen sulfide mists it will cause a catalytic secondary explosion that we've estimated to be strong enough to propel the center up approximately 170 meters to the surface, even without the frames. The structure will be able to survive this since it's comprised of the same nanolaminate plating as their ships which are sturdy against heavy explosive ordinance. That said, every trooper must be on the topside of the structure prior to the detonation so that they will be shielded."
This time the image captured more of the devastating secondary explosion to scale. A few troopers whistled in astonishment. Rico nodded with genuine admiration and sat back down.
"Anything else?" The Chief asked.
The Staff held up a hand. "Will the Extraction Teams be led by you and your Spartans, sir?"
"That's correct."
"...Understood."
The room returned to silence once more. Seeing that no one else had any questions, the Chief turned to Garrison, prompting the Colonel to step up. "Bravo Company, you're dismissed. Head down to the armory to get your gear."
:********:
Garrison watched his Helljumpers flow through the seats and out of the hall's doors as he came to a stop next to the Chief. "...Take a good look at their faces."
The Chief turned to him. "Sir?"
"Their faces." Garrison said, focused on the crowds. "I want you to remember them. They're not numbers on potential casualty statistics, they're people, my people, and I'm lending them to you, not giving them over."
There was no reply but he didn't need him to give one. "Bring them back, Chief, as many of them as you can."
He finally rounded on the Spartan. Though he couldn't see anything but his own face reflected in the golden visor, he could understand the respectful nod that was returned. "I'll do what I can, sir."
:********:
The HMPD HQ's armory was a lot like a high school locker room. The various weapon's arsenals were contained inside of lockers with multiple inner-racks that allowed anyone given the proper clearance to take their pick of the litter. Only, there were no HMPD officers to help the ODSTs find what they needed, so they were forced to gradually figure out that the arsenals were separated by weapon classification.
Duncan learned that the biggest lockers at the left end of the rectangular room tended to hold heavier ordinance like SPNKRs, grenade launchers and sniper rifles. The medium sized ones near the middle of the room held carbines, rifles and shotguns. The smallest contained SMGs, handguns and a vast array of grenades. Near the middle of each crisscrossing hedge of lockers were metal workbenches for weapon disassembly and examination as well as wall-mounted frames displaying a number of customizable scopes.
The whole of Bravo Company was currently mounting an equipment overhaul in preparation for the operation. Weapons like SRS-99s and M319 Grenade Launchers were being put away on one side of the armory in exchange for MA5B Assault rifles and XBR 55 Battle rifles. It was something Deaks and Rico weren't so fond of since they were required to give up their most cherished pieces. But some of the other ODSTs weren't giving up their original weapons at all.
Many of the squads were assembled at the dozen tactical planners around the room that actively portrayed run-throughs of the operation while simultaneously displaying the names of squads designated under categories: 1) Extraction Teams 2) Demolition Teams 3) Carrier Teams. Many of them were debating whether a weapon exchange was a good idea, and from what Duncan could occasionally overhear as he restocked his SMG ammo, they weren't pretty debates. The name 'Spartan' came up a lot as either part of an apologetic explanation or as the header of a heated argument.
Epsilon was on the tepid end of that range of activities. They hung around the AR and carbine lockers close to the middle of the armory. While getting geared up, they sat on benches to observe their personal tactical planner. By extension, they become much like the on-duty officers who probably would've been sitting around these same devices as a superior ran through the holographic details of some neighborhood operation.
Duncan's attention was fully drawn to the listing on the side of the mission run-through which told them what their place would be. They would be working as one of two Extraction Teams, both targeting one of the entrances of the eastern facing part of the command center under the command of one Master Chief Petty Officer John-117.
"Why not Johnson?"
Duncan looked over at Zack who was sitting on the other end of his bench, cupping his face in his hands and leaning towards the display. "What?
"Why not Johnson? Seriously, what kind of last name is John? Johnson makes more sense as a surname, right?"
"I think that's his first name." Nova said without having to look up from the workbench she was using to reassemble her newest BR. "John doesn't make sense as a surname so it must be his first."
"And how'd you figure that?"
"It's called logical deduction my dear Watson."
"Was that supposed to be an Arthur Conan Doyle reference?"
Nova stopped; her interest peeked even though she retained her attention on screwing the barrel into place. "You read Sherlock Holmes? No, wait, you read?"
"I had to." Zack sighed explosively. "They made us read it for pre-colonial literature in high-school, which I still flunked out of by the way so don't try to drop any more references like that on me. It'll just go right over my head."
"Like most things." Rico said, patting him on the back as he and Deaks walked past, returning from having to give up their heavy weapons. They both stopped in front of the planner to get a good view of the team listings. Their faces screwed up slightly when they saw the squad's newest posting.
"We couldn't just get the easy job this time, could we?" Deaks exhaled. He caught sight of the Staff on a perpendicular bench on the other side of the projection, sizing up his personal shotgun. "I thought they said no high-octane stuff on this op, sir?"
"Mid-range." The Staff replied as he used a rag to clean the inside of the gun's receiver. "And short-range. This..." He tossed the finished rag aside to pump a round into the chamber with a satisfying click-click. "...Is short-range."
"Right." Rico said. "Hey, ugh, so how do you feel about us getting led by this John-guy?"
"The Master Chief."
"Sir?"
"His name to you and me is Master Chief. You all call me Staff Sergeant, not David. It's the same principle of authority and corresponding respect."
"Y-, yessir. But, what do you think?"
The Staff lay his shotgun across his lap and inspected it much like he would any of his ODSTs in a parade setting. "The Master Chief is a fine-tuned weapon as much as he is a human being, if not slightly more so the former. Given what we saw from him and the others on Miridem, it's no small wonder why he's been given full operational authority here. And frankly, provided the details of this mission, him leading the charge is probably our best bet of coming out of this on top." He looked up at them, then past them towards the squads with heated debates. "However, not everyone thinks the same way."
"I don't think they have to Staff." A man's voice said. "After all, who really wants to be under the command of an overblown toy soldier wearing black spandex under all that armor."
Glancing around, the squad traced the origin of the voice to an ODST peering over the other side of the locker that Hector was leaning against. The latter turned about and smiled once he saw him. "Reece? What're you doing here man?"
"I came to see what you guys are thinking." Private Reece grinned back as he rounded the row of lockers to enter into the squad's space, stopping at the threshold with his square jaw set in a knowing smile and his arms crossed. "So, is that the verdict then? Epsilon's okay with this, sir?"
The Staff answered his question with another question. "Hotel-7, why are you here and not with your squad?"
"Because they're all having at it with the fact both Hotel and Epsilon have to work under Johnny-come-lately over there." He gestured towards the middle of the armory's locker-maze where the Spartans were. "Even Hotel-1 doesn't know what to think of it. But you, Staff Sergeant, seem to be sold on it being the best way to win."
"And what do you think is the best way to go about this, private?"
Reece checked around to make sure the rest of the squad was looking his way. Scratching a hand through his low-cut blonde hair, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know sir. I was hoping you did. My best guess was it'd be better to have the entire company working under a CO they already knew and trusted, not four swabby special forces who were so special they didn't even bother showing up to the offensive yesterday."
"But they couldn't, because they were scouting out this mission." Renni pointed out from a seat opposite him. "Think about it. While we were fighting, they were busy locating the enemy's leadership to take them out at the head. If that's what you call swabby special forces then I personally can't imagine what the real deals are like."
Reece's face hardened. "I think they could have sent a team of ODSTs to get that job done just fine, if not better. They probably would've found and popped open that center at the same time rather than just telling everyone else where to find it."
"Hey, trooper, look here." The Staff said, catching his attention. "Do you know anyone in this room that would want to go half a kilometer down to the seafloor and scan through that darkness just to find out where the enemy is? I'm a Helljumper, private, and even I don't want to go down there. But I'm going anyway because your squad and mine are being asked to help capture a prophet, something a team of Helljumpers, as capable as we are, couldn't try doing alone. All that means is that these Spartans are good enough to warrant only having a company of ODSTs accompanying them rather than an entire battalion."
"You think they're as good as a battalion of us, sir?" Reece dared. "Like the 7th?"
The Staff leaned back to rest his head against the locker behind him in thought. "I've...seen a thing or two, enough to let me know this one basic fact. ODSTs are natural born killers and Spartans are something akin to an extinction-level event on two legs, but a combination of the two working together is a hell of a force to be reckoned with...more than enough, I'd say, to take down a prophet."
Private Reece must have failed to find a good rebuttal after that because his jaw moved but he couldn't bring out an answer.
Throughout the course of the whole conversation, Duncan recalled seeing the overwhelmingly one-sided massacre that happened at the De Gaulle Starport after the arrival of these same Spartans. It made the Staff's description of them seem not-so-exaggerated. Then memories began popping up from his time at Camp Currahee, to the Beta Company candidates that he guessed had probably already graduated.
Before he could be drawn into that section of his mind and Reece could bring the answer it had taken him several seconds to find, the doors on the far-end of the armory opened. The sound of squeaking wheels filled the room as a number of mobile objects were hauled inside. A commotion started shortly after where ODSTs began walking and jogging down the locker aisles to the main entrance.
"Sounds like the equipment's here." The Staff said, getting on his feet. "Let's get to it."
The squad followed his lead in departing from their space, leaving a flustered Reece to come after them.
Everyone was gathering at the front around two-dozen gunracks on wheels that bore PSMA-92 harnesses. The devices were hung up in a similar manner to toys in a toy store.
"Line up and get'em while they're hot, people, come on." Gunnery Sergeant Singh said as he and his squad directed the troopers into lines for each mobile gunrack. One at a time they were handed a harness then moved along for the next person to get theirs.
The Pressurized Submersible Maneuverability Apparatus looked much like the Series 8 SOLA that Duncan had used during their last mission on Miridem. It had the same rectangular base-shape and two exterior columns of increasingly segmented components. However, it notably differed with the two sockets near the bottom where a pair of oxygen reserve tanks were inserted. Aside from additional tubing, there were also the three pairs of acorn-shaped thrusters that were attached to rotational gimbals along different sides of the equipment. The topmost pair would be right at shoulder-height just like the original Series 8. The next pair were near the torso area and the third at the waist. The thrusters were connected to a movement-sensitive system that detected the user's motions through the special gloves and retractable fins placed over the boots. That way they would assist the wearer in going in any direction with just a flick of the wrist or a flutter of the feet.
Attached propellers of aluminum metal were placed over each thruster's exhaust port, the material being chosen for its high melting point so that it would be less probable to take exhaust damage while providing added mobility. It was best to think of a person wearing the full equipment as becoming their own personal, underwater Falcon.
Reaching near the front of his line, Duncan held out a hand for Gunnery Sergeant Singh to personally hand him his harness. He quickly went over to half of the squad off to the side that were already putting theirs on.
"Brought to you by Lethbridge Industrial." Hector said in a mocking spokesperson's voice.
"It's nice, just wish it came with a good pair of trunks." Mito griped.
"Or a two piece." Nova added, her subtlety causing the young private to become a little red in the face.
Deaks slapped him on the back. "Don't think about it, that's not something you want to see, trust me."
"Hey Corporal?"
Deaks turned to Nova in time to see her pop a pin on a frag grenade and toss it right into his open hands. He didn't panic but simply stood in place, eyeing her with tired derision as several seconds passed, unlike Mito who was already scrambling away. Hector caught his mouth before he could shout a warning and held him by the shoulder. "Relax, rookie, it's empty."
Nova looked decently impressed. "So, you figured it out this time, did you?"
Deaks tossed it back to her. "You removed the primer just like you did the first time."
"But you didn't know that the first time, did you?" She teasingly winked at him.
"Yeah, well, I learned real quick after that."
"Oh relax." She nodded over at Mito. "It's just to prank the new guy."
Deaks didn't look amused. Neither was Duncan who had almost sprinted for a nearby locker when he stopped at noticing that the sniper didn't move an inch. It wasn't like Nova to just pull a stunt like that, unless she had started picking up on Zack's tendencies. Despite the reason she had given about wanting to frighten Mito, something was telling him that the actual reason revolved more around Deaks. The corporal had been slightly off his game since their last mission, most noticeably that he hadn't even bothered to eat any of his breakfast at the food court. If Duncan didn't know any better, it was almost as if she was testing him. Whether he had passed or failed that test exactly, he couldn't really tell.
The Staff came over shortly afterwards then the rest of the squad after a minute. Once they had all gathered and mounted their equipment, they headed over to the section of the armory with more ARs since not everyone was keen on some of their weapon choices.
As they came down a line of rifle lockers, they spotted Private Reece and a few others from his squad already dressed in their PSMA-92s. The trio appeared to have been talking when they stopped to face the Master Chief whose visage towered over them. Though his presence was intimidating even at this distance the three Helljumpers seemed more aggravated than concerned. The Spartan told them something the others couldn't hear.
Reece, armed with an M319 Grenade Launcher across his chest, suddenly stepped out to stand defensively between his squadmates and the Chief. He pointed a finger at his visor and spoke loud enough for everyone nearby to hear him. "Just listen already tin-man, if there's anybody in there anyway. There's no legitimate reason why I shouldn't be allowed to take my piece with me. I'm good with this like how people say you're so good with that suit of yours. So why don't you just leave us normal human beings alone, huh?"
Nova took a step forward, ready to cut the private down to size but the Staff caught her by the shoulder and held her back. Other squads started to appear along the fringes of the argument, watching.
"That weapon classification isn't feasible for this operation, trooper." The Chief said, regardless of the growing numbers listening in on their conversation. "Find yourself an SMG or a rifle like your squadmates before this mission starts. Is that understood?"
Reece cocked his head to one side. "And what if I said no... sir...or just no?"
Even as the young Helljumper's face and tone became increasingly hostile, the Chief's voice stayed at a calm note. "If you cannot handle those basic requirements, private, then I will have no choice but to have you pulled off this mission."
"Ah, I see. You're trying to get anyone that already figured you out from being in the picture when you start breaking Helljumpers' necks again. That's the plan, right?"
The Chief stared at Reece. The measurable silence made the private visibly uneasy and his freehand reached for the M6 holstered on his thigh.
"What's he talking about?" Duncan asked to anyone that could answer. No one did.
The growing gathering of about 20 troopers had become 35 in the time it took Reece to strain out his next words. "Yeah, you're quiet now because I hit the nail on the head, am I right?" He looked incitingly between his squadmates then back to the Chief. "What, you think everybody here doesn't know the story, how one of you guys almost offed twelve troopers in a ship gymnasium a few years back? I heard they all got beaten so bad that a few of them died after their broken bones started jutting through their skin. Can you imagine that?" He looked to everyone that had gathered. "You guys really okay with this? Because now the good Colonel has us taking orders from Navy swabbies that killed just as many of us as the Covenant. Are you guys really comfortable with that?"
By then well over a quarter of Bravo was encircling them, watching with rapt attention. No one moved to say anything, not even the Chief who continued to stare at him.
It was the Staff who ultimately broke first as he marched into the open with such a chilling glare that it cooled the private's rising bravado the moment he saw him. The Staff looked ready to come over and chew him out but the Chief's voice stopped him. "No need, Staff Sergeant."
The Spartan took a single step towards Reece, nearly covering all the distance between them. Reece in turn flinched and tumbled back onto the floor, dropping his pistol.
Then he looked up to see the golden visor of the green-armored titan standing over him, but realized that the Spartan held the M6 he had just dropped in his hand. He had so quickly caught it out of the air that barely anyone had the chance to even notice.
Slowly, he held out the pistol to him handle-first. "It's weapons like these that you'll need for this mission." He pointed to the M319. "A grenade launcher will potentially explode near a less enforced section and cause a hull breach. The EMP that it releases within its blast-radius also poses a problem of knocking out electronic components that we may need down there. You'll be risking the lives of both your squadmates and mine if you bring it."
Again, he offered him the pistol as he held out the other hand for the launcher.
Reece glanced between the larger man's armored palms and his golden visor to see nothing save his own bloodless face staring back at him. His jaw clenched as he considered his advice. He hesitantly raised his launcher and rested it in the Chief's open hand. He shot one last look at his impenetrable visor then took his pistol back.
The Chief offered him another hand and pulled him up to his feet with ease.
The Spartan gave him a nod then went on his way. The crowds quickly parted to let him pass. They took a final look at the embarrassed private then dispersed to rejoin their squads, whispering and laughing to themselves about the near altercation.
Reece had barely exhaled as The Staff walked past, at first with the impression of moving elsewhere then suddenly grabbing the private by the collar of his BDU and forcing him back against a locker with a loud CLANG. The other two members of Hotel gave each other wary looks. He gestured for them to get moving and watched them disappear around the corner before rounding on the lone trooper. "You better thank your personal god that you're not a bloody smear under that man's boots right now, Helljumper, but if you try anything like that again I will see to it that you are swiftly made into a smear under my own. Is that understood?"
Reece grimaced and tried to get back up but the Staff simply pulled him upwards then slammed him back against the locker with even greater force, knocking the wind out of him and capturing a few concerned glances from other troopers. "I said, is that understood, Private Reece?"
The last time had done the trick and whatever rebellion was left in the private was battered out. He nodded.
"You have a mouth, trooper. Use it."
"...Y-, yes, yessir."
The Staff pulled him back onto his feet and let him go. With his head hung low to avoid meeting anyone's eye, Reece passed through Epsilon who had watched everything, the newer members with shock and the older ones with a quiet respect.
"You really plan on turning him into a smear, sir?" Hector asked.
The Staff warily shook his head. "A Hunter will do that just fine if he keeps acting out that way. I'm just trying to help him."
"By breaking his vertebrae, sir?" Renni asked, still a bit caught off guard.
"A small price to pay for keeping the rest of him alive, especially around the Spartans." Saying their names brought a thought to the Staff's mind as he turned to where the supersoldiers in question were gathered. "Nova, take everyone and get settled back at our space for an equipment check. I'll be right back."
:********:
In all the years he'd known him, and it was generally most of his conscious life, Fred had always found John to be the hardest among the Spartans of his generation to read. Though he had his moments here and there which were discernable, the Chief was for the most part stoic in everything he did. He figured his team-leader and friend was at least partly that way because of the life-lessons they learned during their CQC training with Mendez and the other instructors. He had always taught them never to dish out more than they could personally take, because then it would become a weakness they could be blindsided by. Under those standards John was rock-solid. He could take a lot because he gave a lot, but as always, it made him hard to read.
He was matched on the other hand by Kurt's ability to read anyone, no matter whether they were his fellow Spartans, trainers or regular soldiers. The socialite Spartan was able to talk with everyone at will, and it had made him one of the few able to read John's strongest poker face. But Kurt wasn't here, and neither was Sam or Sheila or all of Red Team for that matter. Fred tried not to think about who all they'd lost since this war started. It was a defensive mechanism that he consciously used against the risk of going to a part of himself that he wasn't familiar with, and unlike most combat situations he came across, didn't know how to handle. Nevertheless, he couldn't help thinking that maybe if Kurt were still alive and still part of Blue Team, he would've been able to tell him what the Chief was thinking right now.
The rest of the team were outfitting themselves with the PSMA-92 harnesses specially fitted for their own MJOLNR as John returned from the spat a short distance away. Fred was able to overhear all of it. "Twelve ODSTs, that's the story now?"
John sat down next to Kelly on one of the their two benches without offering much of a comment. He simply said "Everyone's a little jumpy." and began working with his harness.
"So how does that factor in to everything else? I'm trying to figure out why he felt the need to bring up a story not even knowing he was talking to the main character."
"Makes you wonder about that phrase 'whatever you don't now can't kill you'." Kelly said. "I bet the person who said it first ended up being an example of why he was wrong. In your case Chief, permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"If you ask me, I recommend pulling that trooper from the mission. He doesn't seem so fond of us, and I'm sure he's not the only one. You won't want someone like that watching your back in a Covenant Command Center 500 meters below sea-level."
"Noted."
"It's noted but you won't do it, will you?"
"That solution won't solve the core problem here. He may just be the only one willing to be honest about how he feels towards us. I personally don't believe that they'll risk trying to get revenge under those same circumstances you just mentioned. Down there, no matter what anyone thinks of the other, the Covenant are enough of a threat to keep the focus on them."
Linda who was quietly brooding to herself over having to replace her sniper with a Designated Marksmen's Rifle ran a hand through her blood-red hair. "Why is it no one ever believes that it was an accident?"
"Because people remember the stories they want to remember, mam, even if it's not the truth."
The answer hadn't come from any of the Spartans, Fred realized, but from the red-accented ODST that came walking up towards their space. Almost every other shock trooper gave them a wide berth so it was a genuine surprise to him that any were willing to approach them, especially alone.
The Helljumper saluted the Chief. "I was surprised that you recognized me back there, sir."
"I did." John said. "You're Saff Sergeant Atell, correct? I remember fighting with you and Squad Razor on Miridem. Good to see you and your platoon made it out of there in one piece."
"...Not all the pieces sir. Just most of them." The Staff paused as he quietly contemplated something. "I...came to apologize for Private Reece's actions back there. He spoke out of turn and most importantly embarrassed both himself and Bravo Company's pride as Helljumpers. I figured he wouldn't own up to his actions in front of you so I decided to do it for him."
That was yet another surprise that Fred was not expecting.
"I understand." John said, always one for few words. And again, he did something Fred wasn't expecting. "Can you answer me something, Staff Sergeant?"
"What is it, sir?"
"You said that people will believe whatever they want to, but what do you think about that story?"
"About a Spartan killing twelve ODSTs in a gym?"
The Chief nodded.
"It's...believable from a strength perspective. However, it's not very believable from a tactical perspective. ODSTs and Spartans are on the same side of this war. It wouldn't make much sense that we would just suddenly start killing each other, unless there was something else involved."
"And what makes you think that there is?"
"Because, sir, if there's one thing we Shock Troopers are, its proud. With all due respect, we took pride in being branded humanity's best soldiers, at least until we ran into people such as yourselves. From a Helljumper perspective on said story, its believable that ODSTs would have wanted to fight one of you." The Staff relaxed slightly as he looked at John. "This isn't my first time hearing the story, Chief, but it is my first time hearing that it was a Spartan and not a kid that fought those troopers...four, not twelve like Reece and some of the others seem to think."
Fred watched the Chief wordlessly consider what was being unveiled just as he was. However, Fred felt the need to push the question. "So, it's because we stepped on their pride as being the best that many ODSTs dislike us?"
"That's one possible explanation, sir."
"One that makes the most sense." Kelly noted. "However, why would they be so proud as to attack a kid. It makes more sense if it's a Spartan, doesn't it?" She leaned forward. "So which do you think it was, Staff Sergeant? A kid or a Spartan?"
Fred tensed, albeit imperceptibly at the question Kelly was willing to ask. She was always the fastest of the Spartans and it didn't only apply to physicality. She was fast to the point as well. That said, she was also on the verge of revealing something he knew she shouldn't.
He noticed Linda had stopped cleaning her DMR as well to observe the Staff.
But the ODST, helmetless as he was, seemed to know the answer and was holding it back behind some hardened expression of knowing far more than he wanted to.
"Both."
"Both?"
The Staff met Kelly's gaze. "Two seemingly different stories can be the same one just told from two different perspectives." He saluted Blue Team's leader. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I have to get back to prepping my team for today's mission."
"Do what you have to Staff Sergeant. Remember to be ready for 1120 Hours."
"Will do." A final expression crossed the man's face, one Fred didn't quite understand. Then he turned smartly and left.
"I might have sharp eyes but he's one with a sharp mind." Linda remarked in her always tranquil and even tone. "I see why you picked him and his squad, Chief. If they're anything like him they'll be able to think on their feet down there, and maybe even keep up with you."
"He might be too sharp." Fred said. "Kelly, you were risking a lot just now. You sure that was wise to leave an idea like that floating around in his head?"
"I think it's fine." Kelly answered. "Then again, that's because I think it doesn't really matter to begin with. While I'm no psychologist, I wanted to know if he was anything like our Private Reece or if he was willing to have a more open mind. That's pretty important since they'll both be working under the Chief. So, what do you think, Blue-1?"
"I selected those two squads beforehand." He replied. "I was personally able to witness Epsilon fight at the De Gaulle Starport. They were able to hold off waves of Covenant in that terminal long enough for us to reinforce them. That warranted a good deal of attention. The same goes for both Epsilon and Hotel who managed to hold their jammers under similar conditions until backup arrived. I figured they were the best options for my extraction teams."
"And we get everyone else." Kelly sighed. "Great, so you hogged the best for yourself as always then?"
"We'll find out how good they are in the water once we get down there. Until then, let's make sure we're also equipped enough to be at our best. Finish gearing up Spartans, let's go."
Blue Team recontinued their efforts to dawn their specialized PSMA-92 units. As always, Fred kept an eye on John. As always, he couldn't gauge him. It was hard enough without the helmet that he wore almost perpetually, yet alone with it on.
While he couldn't read the Chief, he had read the face of that Staff Sergeant, specifically his last expression before he left. It was stuck freshly to the front of his mind. Most UNSC personnel only looked at them with exacerbated wonder or distant standoffishness and even fear. But there was something to the Staff's facial cues that didn't sit right with him, as if he understood them in a way that made his answer to Kelly's question much more conspicuous than it had been a second ago. It was an emotion he knew to exist between Spartans but otherwise only between them and a few rare non-Spartans:
Empathy.
Coopernate- Cooperation