Halo: Rescue on Requiem Chapter 1 (A Short Story)

Hello, Spartans! I’m back with another short story. This one takes place with the same character as my last story, but not necessarily related to the last one itself. If you want to read it however, it is linked here: https://forums.halowaypoint.com/t/ring-the-bell-a-short-story-fanfiction/536908?u=dredgen_cain516

I hope you enjoy the first chapter in this longer, ongoing story! Let me know what you think about it in the comments so I can improve upon my writing, please. Thanks!

Halo: Rescue on Requiem

I.

0934 HOURS, FEBRUARY 21, 2558 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ EPOLOCH SYSTEM, ABOARD UNSC SUPERCARRIER INFINITY, ABOVE FORERUNNER SHIELD WORLD REQUIEM

The luminescent LEDs on the UNSC Infinity’s S-deck shone as bright as ever. They cast a vibrant white glow over the entirety of the massive compartment which housed the hundreds of Spartans onboard the flagship. Spartan G-296 strained to avoid staring directly into one of the dozens of light fixtures on the ceiling, as he stood arms and legs extended, waiting for his MJOLNIR armor to finish being assembled around him.

During his training on Onyx, Jay had often wished that he and the rest of Gamma Company had been issued their own sets of the half-ton, Titanium plated, and energy shielded armor that was MJOLNIR, instead of the Semi-Powered Infiltration armor they were given. The armor was the pinnacle of infantry technology, and it was worn by the legendary Spartan-IIs themselves, whose likeness his generation was shaped after. But he understood why they weren’t granted the armor until after the Covenant War was over, it was just too damn expensive. And as a Spartan-III, that was everything counter to what he was originally designed to be: a cost efficient supersoldier, meant to be expendable in the fight against the Covenant’s religious onslaught.

Jay blinked to clear his vision as the Brokkr Armor Mechanism, the multi-axis assembly system which gathered, attached, and assembled the titanium plating of the MJOLNIR armor to his underlying techsuit, rotated his body away from the ceiling lights to allow for the mechanical pincers along his backside to bolt together his rear plating. The machine emitted a slight thrumming sound as the servos gyrated his body forward and slightly left, and he felt more components compress against his body. It was an amazing technology that streamlined MJOLNIR assembly, and decreased the necessity for human techs to assist in the process.

But now that the Covenant War was over, and the UNSC had made MJOLNIR standard for every Spartan on active duty including the Spartan-IIIs, Jay had discovered a reason to finally dislike the MJOLNIR armor system: It took too long to assemble. Compared to his old SPI armor, his current GEN2 MJOLNIR, despite being lighter and less complicated to piece together than its GEN1 counterpart, was a much more difficult armor set to don. Before the switch, he had been able to assemble the entirety of the SPI suit in under three minutes by himself. Which in this situation, would’ve been remarkably helpful.

Five minutes earlier the call came down from Spartan Caine, Jay and his Rapier Team’s mission handler, that a fellow Spartan-III Gamma team which had been sent on assignment three days prior, and with whom all communication was lost once they reached planetside, just returned. Well, two of them anyway.

Only half of the four person Spartan team had just now returned to Infinity, having suffered various injuries, and possibly off their meds. When Jay had inquired about which team it was, he was answered with Team Claymore. Team Claymore was led by Kyo G-146, a capable Spartan who he had met in training, often as adversaries during exercises. Claymore was also composed of Brianna G-281, Erin G-039, and James G-127. All excellent Spartans, and all friends. If they were in trouble, Jay wanted to be there for them.

It was an instinct that was ingrained deep in his bones, drilled in from years of training. “Together,” one of his instructors, Tom B-292 had said, “Together, you and your fellow Spartans are each other’s lifeline. They are your greatest strength. Rise as one. Live on as one.” Words spoken from someone who had already lived it, Jay thought when he first heard the lesson. They may not have been a part of his team, but they were fellow Gammas, and meant it was his duty to help as best as he could.

The assembly system rightened Jay and unclamped his boots from their locked tether, indicating that the machine was finished fitting his MJOLNIR together. He released the handles keeping his arms outstretched, and stepped from the platform, his armored footfalls thudding against the metal deck. A short female technician appeared at his side, holding his ANUBIS-class helmet in both hands, and offering it to him. The name tag on her lab coat read “McGee”.

Jay gave her a curt nod and took his helmet, “Thanks.”

“No problem, Spartan. It’s my job!” the young woman replied, her southern accent cheerful, and ignorant of the lives at stake should Jay fail in his mission to rescue Team Claymore, “Just be sure to kick ‘em where it hurts okay?”

The Spartan cracked a smirk and lowered the helmet onto his head with a low hiss as the armor sealed itself. His heads-up-display activated a moment later, and diagnostics began scrolling across his visor. Fusion Reactor: 100%. Pressure Seal: 100%, Internal Oxygen Supply: 7% and rising, Internal Temperature: NOMINAL. He felt his techsuit warm, then cool, then equalize to match his own body’s internal temperature, making the armor feel as normal as a second layer of skin. Biofoam Injectors: OPERATIONAL, Thrusters: OPERATIONAL, Motion Tracker: OPERATIONAL, Communications: OPERATIONAL. Enhanced Sensors: OPERATIONAL.

A tenth diagnostic, “Neurological Balancing” read OPERATIONAL on his screen. The feature was a function solely offered within the RECLUSE-class GEN2 armor set, which the rest of his and his team’s MJOLNIR were composed of, and was tailored to the Gamma Company Spartan-IIIs. It was a feature which, in the event of a Gamma being injured, or off their balancing meds for too long during an operation, had the potential to stabilize their deteriorating higher brain functions, and keep them in fighting shape for longer, all while maintaining their increased levels of strength and hyper-aggression. The downfall was that this made Gammas increasingly prone to ignoring their injuries in lieu of hyper-fixation on their goal of completing their objective, albeit at smarter levels of function. It was a dangerous path to go down, one that could easily lead to death, and Jay was fortunate enough to have never had to use this function.

He just hoped what was left on Team Claymore down on Requiem weren’t in need of it either.

A dozen more secondary sub-system notifications ran across Jay’s HUD, but he ignored them. His armor was functional, and that’s all he needed to know.

Jay exited the cubicle which housed the Brokkr Armor Mechanism, onto the main walkway, and looked to his left at the Spartans on the next three platforms of MJOLNIR assemblers, “Rapier, comm check.”

“Rapier-Two online.” a soft female voice sounded in his speaker. Rapier-two was Zarilla G-062, the team’s designated marksman, and Jay’s second in command. She was a crack shot among the Gamma Spartans, one of the best he’d ever seen, and she could hang with the best to prove it. Her humor under pressure was a trait that he appreciated. It kept the team focused and on their toes.

“Rapier-three online and active.” an upbeat and brash voice replied next. It was Mario G-316, demolitions expert, and the team’s resident big brother, and that wasn’t just because he was the tallest of them all at just over seven feet in his MJOLNIR. Mario had been the one who always seemed to care a little more about his fellow Spartans’ wellbeing over the mission itself. It was strongly uncharacteristic of a Spartan to do, and Jay made sure he kept an eye on it, but he let it slide most of the time, so long as it didn’t interfere with the mission.

“Rapier-four online.” another female voice answered. Fiona G-237. In contrast to Mario, she was the shortest of the group at just under six feet. She was the close quarters specialist of the team, and nobody else on Rapier had yet to overcome her short stature and quickness in the ring during training. Also contrary to Mario, she was often the least talkative and most serious on the team, which only added to the danger the rest of Rapier perceived when fighting her.

Three dots on Jay’s display winked active before settling to a dim yellow. This was his team. His family. Those who he’d trained and fought with for years, ever since they were five and six year olds on Onyx. And they were those who he would rise as one with.

“Good,” Jay answered as the rest of the team donned their various helmets and fell in line before him awaiting orders, “Mario, I want you and Fiona to get our gear and ammo. Bring anything and everything you think we’ll need for a rescue op, we’re gonna be briefed on the rest of the situation on the way down, so once we’re gone we won’t be coming back. Meet us down in Hangar Bay 6 in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes was a long time to hold off a rescue, but Infinity was gigantic, and Jay would rather his teammates make double sure they would be prepped and ready. They had all been given the briefest overview on the situation before they armored up, and Jay knew they’d be just as eager as he was to help out their fellow Gammas. He just didn’t want a blunder in gear availability to be their downfall.

The two Spartans snapped off a quick salute, “We’ll be there in seven.” Fiona declared, her tone ice cold. Then they turned away, sprinting down the walkway to the armory on the other side of Spartan Deck.

“Zarilla with me, we’re going to meet with the survivors of Claymore down in Bay 6 and get some extra details.” Jay winced inwardly at his poor use of the word “survivors”. Although only two members of Team Claymore had returned to Infinity, according to them the other two were still alive on Requiem when they had been forced to split up. That meant that there was a chance they were still active even now, and waiting for mission support and rescue.

The Spartans turned and proceeded down the walkway, past scores of Spartan-IVs and a few other Spartan-IIIs, all in the process of putting on or taking off their armor, talking, or otherwise occupying themselves while they had downtime to spare. This was Spartan City alright, their home.

Before the Spartan-IIIs were conscripted, there were fewer than 33 operational Spartans in existence. Afterwards, that number grew exponentially to almost a thousand over the course of twenty years, and across three companies. Now, with the Spartan-IV program well underway, that number has increased once again. Hundreds of Spartans had been made since the end of the Covenant War just six years earlier, chosen from the most elite soldiers the UNSC had to offer. All in defense of Earth and all her colonies.

These new Spartan-IVs were interesting, Jay thought. There was a wide variety in their capability, professionalism, and mentality. But that was what happened when you recruited from adults who were already enlisted. Some of them were just more “Spartan” than others, but overall they exemplified what it meant to be a Spartan. They helped form the bastion of humanity’s greatest shield, and the sharpest point of humanity’s spear.

They were also all older than Jay and the other Gammas. Some by over double their age and combat experience, although he was still more experienced as a Spartan, and had better training in nearly every regard. And while it never came up in conversation with them, Jay could see the questions and comments boiling in many of their minds as they looked at him. The same looks some of them gave him and Zarilla now as they passed by, entered the S-deck elevator, and descended to the hangar deck.

What was that look? Jay always wondered. Pity on those who were dragged into the War and used by the Office of Naval Intelligence for their own needs? Collective shame and regret at the necessity of their natural childhoods being brought to a violent and abrupt end? He didn’t know, but he knew he didn’t care for it. He was a Spartan. Had been since he was five years old. And he had certainly earned his keep as one. The missions and profiles of every Spartan-III were still classified top secret for the vast majority of the UNSC, but unverified word still got around that they were all just kids when they were conscripted, just like the Spartan-IIs had been. It was a fact that was bound to make people feel a certain way.

Jay pushed the thought from his mind. Contemplation was a great mental exercise, and this was one that he frequented when traversing the halls of S-deck. But this was not the time. He had Spartans to save.

The doors of the elevator opened directly into the back of Hanger Bay 6, on the farthest side of the bay from where Claymore had arrived. It was just another massive compartment within the six kilometers of Titanium A armor plating and Forerunner technology that made up humanity’s pride and joy, Infinity. Four Pelican dropships rested side-by-side in the bay on elevator platforms, which could bring them down to a set of launch tubes in the event of an ongoing battle.

Jay thought it was a great addition to the Infinity’s featureset. This would help prevent any hostile single ships from being able to more easily set up kill boxes against the outgoing craft from their hanger. The Pelicans would instead be lowered several decks to a slim fitting launch tube, and be catapulted out from the ship, hopefully out of any immediate danger. Although the likelihood of any Banshee, Seraph, or other enemy ship being able to survive long enough that close to Infinity, and effectively set up a kill box was next to nil, Jay still found comfort in the option being available to the pilots.

Throughout the bay, maintenance crews mingled about repairing, refueling, resupplying, and inspecting the Pelicans to ensure the ships were always at one hundred percent mission-ready. Pilots ran through their preflight checklists, and crew chiefs overlooked the process of warthogs being attached to the mounts of a few of the dropships.

Jay and Zarilla sprinted across the hangar to the fifth ship in the bay. A Covenant Phantom. Its dark velvet exterior was a stark contrast to the bright white of the bay’s overhead lights, and the Marine Green of the Pelican dropships it hovered next to.

“That must’ve been how Claymore had returned. A stolen Phantom? Not too bad.” Zarilla said, impressed, as they overtook a transport car.

The Gammas thundered past a squad of Marines covered in soot and dismounting their flight two Pelicans down from the Phantom, looked over and began slowly making their way to the alien ship, no doubt interested in why it was there, and possibly a little anxious seeing it aboard Infinity. They kept their weapons lowered, but pointed in the general direction of the Phantom.

As they approached, Jay noticed two familiar Spartans near the Phantom’s grav lift among a group of medics and more Marines. Both of them wore RECLUSE-class armor but with assorted helmets, indicating that they were in fact Gamma Spartans. The taller one had to be James G-127, which was confirmed when he removed his plasma charred CQB-class helmet. Blood spilled from a gash on his forehead and leaked from his nose.

“Help her! Help her now!” James was yelling at the medics who were carting away the second Spartan, as he absentmindedly pushed through the seven Marines fighting hard to keep the Spartan at bay.

The medics pushed past Jay and Zarilla on the way to the elevator, and the state of the Spartan-III on the cart sent chills down Jay’s spine. It was Erin G-039. She was in and out of consciousness, her eyes fluttering as her body fought to stay active. Her armor however, was a mess. Plasma burns scorched her MJOLNIR, and boiled through its plating, rupturing through the techsuit underneath, and leaving 3rd degree burns on her left shoulder, ribs, and hip.

The right side of her body hadn’t fared much better. A foot long shard of jagged titanium hull plating from a D79 Pelican dropship protruded from her thigh, a sign of a definite crash. From the looks of the shard, it managed to miss her femoral artery which was good. Had it ruptured that blood vessel, she no doubt would’ve already been dead, her biofoam injectors helpless to stop the bleeding and also aid in treating her severe burns.

Jay reached the Phantom as James swept his arms between the squad of Marines and stepped through them, dropping his helmet as he went. Jay stood directly in front of the Gamma, with Zarilla at his side. He put a hand out and placed it firmly, yet politely on the Spartan’s chest, keeping him from advancing.

“Stand down, James,” Jay kept his voice even, not wanting to escalate the situation of a Gamma Spartan off their smoothers any more than what had already been done. Then he looked over James’ body to check for any injuries. He found one, a plasma burn which had seared through his thigh armor, and boiled down to the techshuit and flesh underneath. Blood had congealed at the blackened wound, and thick globules of it dripped onto the rest of his leg armor.

James leaned against the hand holding him back, and pointed behind Jay to the elevator where the medics were taking Erin, “She’s gonna make it right?”

Jay didn’t know the answer to that. But he knew that she was a Gamma, and as such, had a better chance than most of surviving her wounds, “Yes. She will.” He didn’t like lying to James like that, but in the state he was in, Jay was only worried about keeping his friend calm.

The Spartans of Gamma Company were on thin ice when it came to their additional, and very illegal augmentations. Word was that what was left of Team Saber had been off their smoothers for hours during an operation on Gao a few years back, and one of them had almost killed an officer during their paranoia-induced mental break. After that, the Ferret Program had been initiated for most of the Gammas, in order to keep them on the blackest of undercover black ops, and far from public scrutiny. Jay found it a miracle that some Gamma Spartans had managed to stay on the front lines and be stationed on Infinity. He didn’t want that to change.

“How do you know she’ll make it?” James pressed. He looked straight into Jay’s visor.

“Because she’s a Gamma. We’re tough, remember?” This seemed to settle James as the thought process formed in his mind and he was reminded of their unnatural capabilities.

“Right. We’re tough.” he said in a sigh, more to himself than to Jay, and glanced one last time at his friend entering the elevator.

Jay leaned over to one of the Marines at his side who had been trying to hold James back, “Get another team of medics down here. He’-Yoink!-.” he shifted his head to indicate the plasma burn on James’ leg.

The Marine’s eyes exploded at the revelation and wonder as to how the Spartan was still standing. He and his squad had all missed the injury in the chaos a few minutes beforehand, and it certainly didn’t help that James didn’t seem to recognize, or at the very least care to address his own injury either.

“Yes sir!” the Marine yelled as he snapped to attention and ran to get the medical staff.

Jay removed his hand from James’ armor, “Now brief me on the situation, Spartan. We’re going down there for the rescue.”

James looked back into Jay’s visor, and his face turned all serious, “Our Pelican was shot down in the mountains on our approach. Banshees and AA litter the place. Satellite imagery was non-existent in the region, and drone scans were spotty at best when we went down there. We expected resistance, just not that much. Erin was injured in the crash, and we were immediately engaged in a firefight against the welcome party. We were running and gunning for the better part of a day before we managed to evade them completely. We spent a few hours resting in the mountains, while trying to raise Infinity on the comm, but that was useless.

The next day, we hiked our way to one of the Covenant’s several early warning comm relay stations in the mountain range,” He paused and squinted as if to recall the events that happened, “We split up at this point. Kyo and Bri went to rig the station’s warning signal in a fixed all clear, in an attempt to give us time to press onward unnoticed. Meanwhile Erin and I went to clear the rest of the outpost.” James paused again, and Jay could see his face pain at the memory.

“They were waiting for us there, and that’s when Erin got hit again. They had two pairs of Hunters at the outpost, Elites, and so many Grunts. Erin kept on fighting even though she was almost critical, and together we took down most of the Grunts and two of the Hunters. It wasn’t until the Elites cornered us on the landing zone that we had to hijack the Phantom to help us take on the rest of the forces there. I tried to pick up Kyo and Bri, but we took a fuel rod to the port engine and were still taking fire when Kyo explained that they were pinned, and gave the order to leave them and retreat to Infinity to send for reinforcements. That was almost sixteen hours ago. It took me a lot of time to avoid the AA and Banshees.”

The Marines that surrounded the Spartans stared at James, speechless.

Jay nodded, “Alright, then it seems we have our work cut out for us.”

“We can handle it.” said Zarilla, trying to ease the tension in James’ expression.

“You got that right,” Mario’s assured voice came from behind. He was carrying two duffle bags over his left shoulder, and a loaded M41 SPNKr rocket launcher in his right hand.

To his left walked Fiona who was also carrying a pair of duffles, as well as an SRS99-S5 sniper rifle in her right hand, “We’re back with eighteen seconds to spare.”

“And none too soon. We have to get moving, Rapier.” Jay replied, cutting short the banter. Green acknowledgment lights flicked on his HUD as his team copied his orders.

“Which bird is ours?” Zarilla asked as she took the Series 99 from Fiona and checked its action.

“This one right here, Spartans.” a silvery voice answered from their side. They turned and saw a pilot leaning against the hull of the Pelican dropship parked next to the Phantom, “Lieutenant Jamie Wright, pilot of Pelican 31 at your service. Call me Fish. Your ordinance is already onboard, ready and waiting. All you need are the arming codes.”

Lieutenant Wright was a tall woman, just as tall as Fiona in her armor. Her freckled face made her appear young for a Pelican pilot operating out of Infinity, as if she was the same age, or only a few years older than Team Rapier, Jay thought. She had loose curled brunette hair, and kept it tied neatly in a ponytail at regulation length. Grease stains covered her hands, fatigues, and the sides of her combat helmet which was clipped at her waist as she chewed deliberately on a piece of pink bubble gum.

“Arming codes?” The question came from Mario, who was the first to recognize that anything requiring arming codes was sure to be a joy to watch blow up.

“Did I stutter, Spartan? I’ve got an excavation grade HAVOK tactical nuke loaded up back there already, courtesy of the Big Guy over here.” she pointed at James, who then looked at Jay.

“With the lack of intel on the site itself we didn’t know exactly how big the facility was, just that it was big, and in the mountains. We requisitioned for one before leaving Infinity, and they gave it to us,” James gave a shrug that suggested he wasn’t going to pass up the chance at using a nuke and neither should Jay, “We figured that it was going to be easier just to level the mountain range than it would be to find the reactor powering the base and blow it.”

Jay had to admit it wasn’t a bad line of logic. Considering the little bit of intel available, and the general preparedness of the Covenant stationed at the resupply base, it was definitely looking better to avoid lingering in the region any longer than needed. Just get in, set the nuke in an inconspicuous place, and get out. But Jay knew it would be more difficult than that. It always was. They wouldn’t send Spartans to do the job if it could be just as easily achieved with Marines or Helljumpers.

“So where’s the arming codes?” Jay asked Lieutenant Wright.

There was a smacking sound as the pilot chewed irritably on her gum, “Ask Big Guy. He’s the one who won’t hand them over.”

Jay looked to James, “I wasn’t going to hand over the arming codes to anyone other than the rescue team,” there was a hesitation before James stood straighter and continued, “Which I would like to request to be a part of, sir.”

“Denied.” Jay answered instantly. He had been anticipating the question since the moment he heard only half the team had returned. It was something every Spartan, every Marine, would ask. And Jay knew that it could compromise the mission if he let James tag along. His overeagerness disguised as determination had the potential to lead the team into half thought out plans, rush to action, and lost unit coheasion. It was a contagious effect which Jay wanted no part of during this mission. His team was well motivated to rescue their fellow Gammas, but they also had a level of objectivity that James just might not have at this time.

“But, sir I-” James started to protest.

Jay made a horizontal slash with his hand, cutting off the sentence, “The answer is no, Spartan. You’re injured and we don’t have the time to accomodate for you.” Another half-truth.

“Injured?” James took a few seconds to inspect his arms, then torso, before his gaze settled on the hand-sized patch of charred flesh and bloodied armor which covered the upper part of his leg, “Oh.” The words were a half spoken whisper.

Plasma burns were notoriously dangerous. Unlike the crystalline needles used in Covenant Needlers, which exploded shortly after impacting a target, and oftentimes causing them to immediately fall unconscious to shock before slipping into death, plasma wounds were the more painful injury because they were more easily survivable. Albeit often not by much. Not only were they extremely dangerous to non-armored, and even armored personnel as shown by James and Kyo, if left untreated they could easily lead to infection and radiation poisoning.

A team of medics approached from behind with the Marine Jay had sent off, and another cart for James. One of them motioned for James to sit and lay down. James looked at the medical team, then Jay, then every member of Team Rapier before sighing in defeat, and pulling a small data chip from the port on his forearm’s TACPAD and handing it to Jay. Then he lay on the cart, “There’s the arming codes. Make good use of them will ya?”

Jay nodded once and inserted the chip into his own armor’s forearm mounted computer system, “Will do.”

Mario stepped forward and blocked the medical team from leaving. James shifted his head to look at him as Mario placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and stared back, “Your mission will be much harder. You’ll have to wait here while we bring them back.”

The tension in James’ body faded at the words. That was exactly the type of person Mario was. The one to numb the pain in his fellow Spartans’, and help them understand that they were in good hands. Spartan-IIIs weren’t known for their physical contact or emotional side, but time and again Mario consistently proved that he was the exception to that. Something as little as a consoling gesture spoke bounds when done between Spartans. And in a situation like this one, Jay was glad to have the unique attribute on his team.

With that, the medics took James away. Back to the elevator and then the infirmary where he would rejoin Kyo, and wait in a constant mental purgatory until Team Rapier returned, and hopefully good news.

“Is the Pelican ready to launch?” Jay asked, turning to Lieutenant Wright, then the Pelican to give it his own brief onceover.

Like most of the other Pelicans included in Infinity’s complement, it was a hulk-sized, stalky D79 Heavy-Troop Carrier, standard within the UNSC. It featured the new double bubble canopy style, which Jay found to make the new airships look sort of odd compared to the old D77s. As Jay walked the length of the Pelican, he realized that it was loaded to the brim with guns and artillery. Below its nose, it sported a pair of 70mm rotary cannons, and each wing carried a trio of ANVIL-II air-to-surface rocket pods on its hardpoints. Not quite a G79 gunship as it lacked the exterior heavy machine turrets on its sides, and the M8C Nonlinear Cannon on the nose-mount, but it was certainly more than just a simple transport Pelican.

Lieutenant Wright spread her arms and her face scrunched, “What kind of pilot do you think I am, a Jenkins?” she snickered at her own inside joke, “Yes the Pelican is ready to go if you are. My co-pilot should be finished with the system check right about…” she let her voice trail off as the sound of boots on metal came marching down the Pelican’s ramp.

“Checked and ready, ma’am.” a gruff voice sounded from the stout man who emerged from the dropship. He stood a half-head shorter than Lieutenant Wright, with dark, serious eyes, and coffee colored skin. His hair had been freshly buzzed over and his face was clean shaven, save for the thick mustache on his upper lip. On his shoulder, he wore the silver and blue double bar and chevron insignia of a Warrant Officer Grade 3, and below that read AGNER on his nameband.

He stopped at the end of the entrance ramp, and looked unamused at each of the Spartans before giving a brief nod. That was another thing Jay liked about being stationed on Infinity, seeing a Spartan was a near daily occurrence for almost everyone onboard. During the Covenant War, Spartans were a rare sight for most of the enlisted troops in UNSC. So much so that even in the last weeks and days of the decades-long conflict, the majority of the UNSC’s personnel had never even seen one, and only knew of them through propaganda videos on Waypoint.

When a Spartan was seen, it was usually followed by unbelieving stares, and an awe factor that left normal soldiers wanting to impress the supersoldiers. But here on Infinity, that reaction was often a rare one, seen only in those who were new to the crew. There were hundreds of Spartans stationed on Infinity, and their appearance was an everyday occurrence. But if you wanted to see one, all you had to do was walk the halls or go to S-deck.

“Good.” Lieutenant Wright said cheerfully as she clapped her hands, bounced herself from the Pelican’s hull, and slid her combat helmet over her head, “Load up, Spartans!”

The Marines orbiting Rapier Team took a few steps back as Jay tilted his helmet in the direction of the rear hatch, and the Spartans followed the Pelican crew in.

And I’ll be taking this, thank you very much…

HAHA

Chapter 2 dropping in a few days! I had to make some adjustments in detail, and some rewrites for better flow. It’ll be the first time I’ve written anything like it.

After that…Chapter 3 hopefully in a week.