Min missed his Mjolnir armour. It had been a constant companion since the completion of his training under COP Mendez and Captain Ambrose. The only things he held closer than his armour was his teammates. They were his backup, his friends, and his siblings. Each company of Spartans were close to the others, but there was a solidarity and a comradery to be found amongst those of their own generation. Min had experienced it in Beta, had seen it when Gamma was training, and was seeing it now as Delta ran through their drills.

Min wasn't overseeing them as a member of their drill instructors though, He was doing it on his own time. He had a lot of that now, his own time. The small datapad wasn't nearly hot enough to cause physical discomfort, but the significance of what was on it kept drawing his eyes back to it like it was a live grenade about to go off. A single pack of files was evoking an emotion in the spartan that was almost foreign; anxiety. Min was officially, as of 08:47 that morning, the first spartan to be officially discharged from the UNSC to become part of a civilian planetary government.

For possibly the first time, a spartan ID tag on the UNSC battle net had changed from active to honourable discharge. Not to the traditional MIA that came with the normal ways spartans ended their service. Min wasn't missing, wasn't dead, he was retired. The word felt wrong. For all the fact that the saying was 'spartans never die, they're just MIA' it seemed almost more wrong to see his own status change to anything other than that honourable marker. Min had brothers and sisters whose names wore that tag. Was it a dishonour to them for him to just leave? The war wasn't over, humanity still needed spartans, and the Covenant was still rampaging across space, butchering billions, and leaving orphans like Min mourning families that were now nothing more than ash and glass.

A flicker of light came from the pad, drawing Min's attention away from where the deltas were crawling through mud under rows upon rows of barbed wire. They hadn't yet introduced dummy fire into the exercise, but blanks were being shot at the edged of the muddy trench, likely scaring any nearby locals. Not the deltas though. They'd been at training long enough that only a few of them even flinched when a round was fired close to them, the rest kept their eyes focused firmly ahead and slogged through the muck with gritted teeth but without complaint.

Checking the pad, Min saw the captain's ID flash, covering his discharge paperwork with a request to see him. Min turned away from the deltas, making his way to the mongoose that he had parked just on the other side of the small hill he was standing on. Reving the engine, he made his way back to the Plataea.

The elevator ride from the ships ground entrance took a little more than a minute, but it dropped him off on the deck 18, where the captain's favourite office just down from the main bridge was nestled, the only room in its quadrant and surrounded by fifteen feet of solid steel on every side, better to counter infiltration tech by ONI agents not loyal to Lord Hood and the at the time, newly liberated Spartan III program. Min waved his new civilian ID over the door's scanner and walked through the door. Sitting at a desk, sorting though what were likely requisition orders and discharge forms like his own, sat his captain.

"Min." The captain smiled.

Min pulled a crisp salute on instinct, looking the picture of military discipline.

"Sir."

"You're not enlisted anymore Min; you don't have to call me sir anymore."

"Yes sir."

The captain chuckled and gestured to one of the seats.

"You're officially discharged now Min. You're a free man, as the saying goes." Kurt tapped a few keys on his holo-table, and the screen behind him flared to life.

"We have naval personnel, ship security and ship techs already processed. Almost four hundred men and women ready to start their lives here on this world. By the end of the year, we expect that only about three hundred UNSC personnel will still be part of the naval security force that we're setting up."

Min felt the captain's eyes on him.

"Most of them are claiming land on the island or over in Essos for personal dwellings. We're using the ship's fabricators and the resource harvesters in orbit to collect material to extend the power grid, install plumbing and sewage piping and other necessities. You understand what I'm asking you to do, correct."

"Understood sir, you want me to lodge my intentions for relocation."

"Yes."

Kurt chuckled.

"When Spartan Beta company was starting its training and Alpha was just getting back from Operation Vulcan, I spoke with Lord Hood on the subject of spartan retirement. It was unlikely, given the way the war was going, and I almost think it was more a joke that was misunderstood, but in accordance with regulations ninety-two subsection seventeen-B, you are entitled to special military pension. The thing is, you're the first spartan to use it and these aren't normal circumstances. UNSC credits aren't exactly a valid currency out here, and there's not exactly an infrastructure for solid conversion."

"It's fine Captain, I-"

"The thing is-" Kurt continued on, interrupting Min with a raised eyebrow. "We need to figure out a way to properly compensate our spartans, and without a working economy, the best I can do is ask you if there's anything you want."

The captain leaned forwards, a smile forming on his face.

"So, Min, what do you want?"

What did he want? It was such a simple question on paper, but the deeper one thought, the more muddied it became. Ideally, Min wanted to be back on the warfront, taking down Covenant resources and making them pay for everything they'd done. He wanted to serve humanity the way he had been taught since he'd first been taken in under the Spartan III program.

That want was impossible however, and barring that Min had spent most of his life being taught not to want anything for himself. To suddenly have the question posed to him, it was jarring. It almost felt wrong. Selfish to ask for something for himself. Still, the captain, the man who had all but raised every one of the Spartan IIIs, was asking him to make that choice, and Min wouldn't disrespect him, his brothers and sister, or himself, by giving it anything other than his full attention.

So, Min sat in his chair and thought. Without war he would need something to do. Retirement was one thing, being idle was another. One was regrettable, the other unacceptable. He needed activity, he needed a job. Not something in the city itself. There was little more than construction work to be done around there, and Min knew from experience that he didn't like that kind of work.

Well, at least most of the time. He thought to the valley. The hall he and Adam had worked on. Had used leave and breaks to fix up. He thought back to the times they'd had to break up scuffles and fights and how they'd defended it during the strange incursions by what the locals had deemed 'The Others'.

"There's a valley sir. It's up in the North, past the wall. We set up a research base there."

"I know it." Kurt nodded.

"Adam and I, we set up a structure there. During our shore leave, we didn't violate any regulations I mean. I… If it's possible, I'd like to make an application for that piece of land."

"The whole valley?" Kurt raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit more than we've allotted for civilian colonisation. Not to mention we still have a UNSC military observation centre set up there."

"I understand sir. I'll revise my-"

"Then again. The station is mostly a formality now, and there's been a large enough local presence due to the shelter that we can't expect it to be anonymous or out of the way for much longer."

Kurt smiled.

"Between all that and the special nature of Spartan pensions. I think we can set that as a good baseline for your retirement benefits. We might have some pushback from the civilian integration committees with regards to possible cultural contamination. But considering everything with the Westerosi and our gains in Essos, I don't think they'll object too badly."

"Sir. If it's going to cause trouble, I can always change-"

"Min. I asked you what you wanted and this was it. This is what you want, right?"

Min thought for a second.

"Yes sir. It is."

"Then we'll work something out. I owe it to you. To every one of you."

The captain circled around the desk until he stood in front of Min. The younger spartan stood, assuming a parade rest.

"My biggest regret in life is that what I did to all of you was necessary." Kurt said. "The war was going so badly, there were war orphans in their thousands, in their millions fleeing burning world. I understood at the time that what I was doing was serving humanity and strengthening the war effort. We needed every spartan we could get in those days."

Kurt leaned back against the desk and motioned for Min to sit back down.

"I guess I never thought we'd live to see the day when we had to give up the fight. I expected us to die on one of the missions ONI handed down. If nothing else, when we were getting ready for Operations Red and Blue flag, I thought for sure we'd go down with the proverbial ship during that one. Now we're here, and we have to find a way to live.

I'm sorry Min. I'm saying it to you first because you're the one here, but I'll say it to every one of you when you retire. I'm sorry I stole your lives from you. Your childhoods shouldn't have been combat drills and survival exercises. You should have been playing with friends and getting fussed over by your parents when you scrapped your knees. You should never have had to become spartans."

Min was silent for quite a while, plunging the room into a thick quiet.

"Thank you, sir."

Min stood up, adopting a military salute.

"You gave us all a choice. You didn't force us into anything. I'm saying here what each and every one of us would say in the same situation. We made choices. You told us what they were. You were honest and clear with everything from the beginning. Maybe we shouldn't have had to make the choices we did, maybe we shouldn't have said yes. Maybe we weren't capable of understanding the consequences. But that's not on you. You gave us a choice, and we all made it. Every single one of us chose to become Spartans. We wanted payback. I still do.

Thank you for everything sir. It wasn't fair what happened to us. I understand that, but nothing that happened during the war was fair. Nothing that happened should have happened, but you still tried to do right by us, and I know that every single one of us appreciated it. Just like I know that we all still appreciate what you want to do for us."

Min dropped his salute.

"My formal discharge order is processed and approved sir. As of today, Spartan-III Min-B174 is officially retired. Min B Jung, Civilian number 84916-174-SBC9352, requesting permission to leave."

Kurt smiled, snapping into a salute of his own before dropping it.

"Permission granted. It's been an honour soldier."

"Likewise, sir."

Kurt smiled as Min beat a steady exit from his office. As the door slid shut, Kurt circled back across his desk. Pressing a button on his holo-table he called up one of his crew.

"Chief Petty Officer Mendez, please report to the captain's quarters immediately."

Sending on the message, Kurt reached out to the wall of his office. Hidden in the dull grey seams Kurt saw the small palm scanner keyed to his handprint. The sound of gears turning as he put his hand in place revealed a hidden safe built into the wall. Inside were a few key mementoes. Things that Kurt didn't trust to leave his direct access. Inside rested a formal set of his captain's bars, the ones given to him by Admiral Hood, next to it was the rescue beacon for his old Mk IV Mjolnir armour. However, the thing that Kurt pulled from the safe was neither of those things, nor any of the other pieces that were secured inside the safe. Instead he pulled out a bottle from the back of the safe. Inside was a clear liquid with the slightest tint of blue colouring. Plastered on the bottle was a simple label.

'100% Authentic Reach Distilled Spirytus Vodka'

It had been a gift from Mendez, who had joked that the bottle might be the only thing with a high enough alcohol content to actually get spartans drunk. It was meant to be a celebratory drink, meant for the end of the war if they survived long enough to see it through. Now though, with the possibility of returning so slim and facing the reality of his children officially discharging, Kurt pondered whether or not this could count.

It wasn't five minutes later that the door to his office slid open and Franklin Mendez stepped into the room. Kurt sat at his desk. The bottle on the table with two glasses on either side.

"You think that's a good idea sir?"

"No sirs chief, this isn't an official talk."

Mendez walked over, taking the same seat that Min had sat on not that long ago.

"You want me not to call you sir, you stop with the 'chief' shit."

"Deal."

Franklin took the bottle, looking over it.

"You think this is the right time?"

"We promised we'd open it when the war was over."

"It ain't over yet Kurt."

"It is for us. You saw the estimates, we're not getting back in time…"

The room became sombre as silence grew.

"It's finished Franklin. We're finished… Min came in. He's discharged. Civilian ID number and everything. He's taking over the valley up north, close to Outpost Gamma."

"He'll do fine. He's got fabricator time reserved and plans drawn up. We taught 'em to be prepared."

Mendez popped the cork out of the bottle with only the faintest noise. Kurt watched as he poured.

The two men picked up their glasses, clinking them together in a silent toast.

"And what about the rest? How many of them will adapt like Min has? Can you see Rosenda settling down? What about Arata, or Soren?"

"No, no I can't, but we'll figure it out. They'll find something. We'll help 'em."

"And if we can't? We made them soldiers, spartans, but we didn't make them people. We beat that out of them. Do we deserve to just let them go? To pretend that by giving them something they always should have had that we've absolved ourselves of taking it from them in the first place?"

"I don't know. I really don't."

"You have to. You have to Mendez."

"I don't. Why do you think I do?"

"Because if you don't, how did you justify joining me?"

Kurt's eyes blazed with rage.

"You made us. Seventy-five of us taken and broken into the first spartans and then you finished. You were done. You could have walked away. You didn't. You helped me with alpha, with beta and gamma and now delta. You have to know or you wouldn't have come back."

Kurt threw his empty glass, shattering it against the far wall and grabbing the bottle. He chugged the whole bottle, barely dented from the first pours, before throwing that too.

"You have to know how to live with this, or else it means I can't!"

For the first time in a long time, Franklin Mendez was stunned. Spartans were stoics to their core, Kurt more than most. Every mention of their spartans by the man had been tinged with pride, even their failures were accepted by the man because he knew that if they couldn't do it, then it simply couldn't be done. More than that, even on failed missions every company had returned home with their full compliment. Spartan casualties were still in the single digits. Of the one-thousand-forty-eight spartan IIIs one-thousand-thirty-nine of them were here, and even then, Noble team was still four members strong when last they'd heard.

To see the man angry, no. This wasn't anger. Mendez recognised the look in Kurt's eyes. He'd seen it in the mirror so many times before.

It was hate.

Kurt-051's eyes were filled with hate.

But the hate wasn't meant for Mendez. There was anger there, that emotion he knew was directed at him, but the hate… Franklin knew that kind of hate.

Self-hatred.

More than Mendez, more than the Covenant maybe, Kurt-051 hated himself.

"How do we live with it chief? How do we sleep at night knowing that everything we did, taking kids and making machines, that that didn't win the war? That it didn't even matter? Reach is gone. Onyx will be gone too. Earth, the UNSC, Linda, John, Will, Kelly, Grace, Fred, they'll all be gone."

"You don't know that. Blue Flag was a success, we ripped High Charity a new one. We killed half of that god damned space station and tore a dozen of their 'prophets' to pieces. Even if we didn't get their heads, what we did will hurt them, maybe enough to give the rest a chance. Red Flag can capture the rest, force a cease-fire. They'll survive."

"Never took you for an optimist."

"We all got to believe in something. I believe in them."

He leaned forwards.

"Kid, you want to know how to live with this? With what we did? I don't got answers for you. If there's a hell, I'll be going there for what I've done, and I'll meet Halsey and everyone else when we do get there. You don't got to join me though.

You didn't get a choice. We took that from you and then told you to do the same to those kids. You want to know how to live with it? You can start by getting back what we took from you, like we took it from them."

Franklin Mendez stood up.

"Maybe then we can make something better from all of this."

The old marine left the office, leaving his captain and his victim alone. As the door to the room slid shut, Mendez bowed his head and fidgeted with the pistol holstered at his side.

"And if you figure it out, let me know. Maybe then I can finally sleep at night."

Inside the room, Kurt sat hunched over his desk. The alcohol was starting to get to him. Augmentations or not, downing a bottle of ninety-seven distilled vodka was doing a number on his system. Before he sobered up, he needed to do something.

"This is Captain Ambrose to Delta-Company command and control. Suspend training on all candidates. Transfer them to civilian education regimes and put a hold on spartan conditioning."

It wasn't too late. The deltas still had a chance, Kurt hadn't taken from them yet what he'd stolen from the first three companies.

A knock on his door pounded on his head but it slid open all the same. Rhaella Targaryen stepped inside, holding baby Daenerys in her arms and looking utterly exasperated.

"Lord Kurt, I'm sorry to bother you, but Daenerys has not stopped screaming and I was hoping you might be able to help-"

She stilled like a frightened animal, seeing Kurt hunched over his desk, the heavy smell of alcohol on the air and seeing the remnants of glass on the floor. She made no movements, not to advance or retreat. To move, even to try and leave, would only bring attention to herself, and she'd learned from experience that the attentions of a drunken husband were not pleasant ones.

Looking up, Kurt felt the world tilt slightly more than it should have. He was drunk, drunk for the first time and filled with rage and self-loathing. Rhaella had done nothing to draw his attention. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the small baby she carried.

Maybe it was Min's discharge, or his talk with Mendez, or maybe he'd just been programmed too well, because the first thoughts that went through his mind was that when delta was finished training in five years and if epsilon began training, she would be the right age; five or six years old. As soon as he thought that his stomach turned, or maybe that was an adverse reaction to the alcohol. Whichever it was, Kurt gritted his teeth, gripping Mendez' glass in his hand and looking down at his desk to glare at the reflection of himself in one of the dark data pads.

"Get out."

His voice was low and growling, so different from the normal light and friendly tone he normally put on. Rhaella took a step back slowly, carefully. It was too slow.

Kurt's fist clenched shut, shattering the glass in his hand, slivers cutting into his palms and fingers.

"Get out now Rhaella."

Turning on her heel, she left. No, more than left, she sprinted out of the room, carrying a still crying Daenerys with her.

She left the captain of the UNSC ship Plataea, the head of the Spartan III program, one of the greatest soldiers ever produced sitting alone in his office, surrounded by broken glass and looking for an answer that he wasn't even sure really existed.

So one review from a long time ago that has stuck with me was someone commenting on Kurt's lack of emotional range, always being in control and always agreeable. I wanted to portray some inner conflict with this chapter. On the one hand, it's Min discharging and getting the chance to live a life outside of being a spartan, and indoctrinated killing machine whose childhood was stolen from them to kill aliens as literal children and teenagers.

Kurt is now coming to terms with his part in that. He is like Min, indoctrinated and broken, but instead of breaking the cycle, Kurt only went on to industrialise it and spread the horror of what the spartans really are. In Westeros there's not much societally wrong with child soldiers, but understand that that means. The spartans share more in terms of culture with literal medieval knights than they do with 26th century civilisation. Kurt has to wrestle with the idea that he's a monster, not a father.

Then Rhaella comes in with Daenerys. I know a lot of reviewers have asked whether there some GoT characters will become spartans. This chapter is the answer.

What this will do to his and Rhaella's marriage will be explored, but for now we move on to the next section of this story, UNSC settlement and expansion. First in non-Westerosi areas like Essos and beyond the wall. Combatting slavery takes precedence over overturning Westeros' feudal system. Also, there's the chance of real lives romance and even families for the spartan IIIs. I hope this isn't a spoiler but Tom and Lucy are endgame.