Status
Not open for further replies.

AceSorcerer

Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
  4. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Male

Everyone knows about John-117, who is called nothing other than “Master Chief,” and is universally agreed upon to be the great SPARTAN ever born. However, with new enemies and new advancements in technology there comes a greater need for our protectors to be stronger than ever before.

And as such, a new generation of SPARTANs was created.

Twenty years ago, United Nations Space Command (better known as the UNSC) began the latest and utmost dangerous of its programs: the SPARTAN-V Program. Returning to using children (as opposed to adult volunteers like the SPARTAN-IV Program had), five hundred children within the age range of five to seven years old were chosen as candidates to become fifth-generation SPARTANs. The program had the goal to become a new innovation in the world of super-soldiers, with the ultimate goal of awakening the targeted telepathic and telekinetic abilities located within the candidates’ recessive genes. If they survived the activation of their recessive genes, candidates would begin the first stage of their training. When they had three years of training and had a decent level of control over telekinesis, they would be set to receive their augmentations in order to achieve the physical form that the iconic SPARTAN super-soldiers possess.

Of the five hundred candidates, fifty-two died after having their telekinetic genes activated. Furthermore, an additional twenty-seven died after their bodies rejected the augmentations. Lastly, after receiving their augmentations thirty-six of the candidates became paralyzed or crippled in various aspects, but were still judged fit for active duty in a non-combat. As a total, three hundred eighty-five candidates would go on to become SPARTANs as they moved on to the next phase of their training.

As recruit entered their tenth year of training, they were divided into various platoons based on the specialty and combat role they were determined to be best fit for. One out of every ten of the candidates, thirty-five in total, were chosen to become officers, as they were selected to be platoon commanders when their training was completed. The remaining recruits were divided into their specialized training, taking on their new training as well as the continuation of their existing training. It is at this time that each recruit was inducted into the military, given the rates of “SPARTAN Recruit (E-1)” and “SPARTAN Apprentice (E-2),” depending on their performances.

And as time went on and these new SPARTANs matured, the program began to receive massive scrutiny from some of the highest ranking officials in the Unified Earth Government and the UNSC, save for a few admirals and captains- along with Dr. Halsey herself- who were advocating the program as to prevent the project’s termination, which could very well include every SPARTAN-V being put in near-permanent cryostasis.

But, in due time and due process, a harsh fate was avoided as the program was allowed to continue under the condition that all of the SPARTAN-V’s be strictly monitored and managed by more experienced SPARTANs.

When the time came, the SPARTAN-Vs were deployed into the various regions of the universe. Some were placed into cryostasis for transportation to their assignments, but some of the more lethal and cunning of the brood were kept warm and awake to be put under immediate work and observation. It had been decided that the main series of observations would take place under the watch of Rear Admiral Derrick Thompson on the UNSC Maelstrom, the latest of the Infinity class warships.

The factors regarding the observation of the SPARTAN-V’s called for the formating of SPARTAN-based units to be formatted differently from the traditional fireteams, which had been brought into consideration with the fact that some of the SPARTAN-V’s were given warrant and commissioned officer training. As such, SPARTAN-V’s were organized into proper platoons and integrated into existing companies in their respective stations. Among the senior SPARTANs who would be drafted in to manage the new, inexperienced SPARTAN-V’s, most had reluctantly volunteered for the position. In this case, they would be acting as a platoon’s executive officer, meant to act as a mentor and advisor to the SPARTAN-V ensigns in regards to leadership and to serve in a similar role for the entirety of the platoon until the were sufficiently capable of managing themselves.

Soon enough, the fateful day came wherein the main focus of SPARTAN-V observation, Sigil Platoon, were to assemble on the Maelstrom for the first time on Luna.

Some of these SPARTANs had trained long and hard with one another, while others would be meeting for the first time. It mattered not, for now their commanders would be observing and passing judgement almost constantly upon them, which was a test they all needed the pass through. Before introductions could be made, the full platoon of helmeted SPARTANs, intermixed with other personnel before boarding began as the captain of the Maelstrom gave the christening and speech before the maiden voyage. All payed heed to Rear Admiral Thompson as he spoke at the end of his speech in his wizened baritone.


“...Our mission, as is the mission of every serviceman who fights in the name of the liberty of all sentient beings of the galaxy, is to defend those who cannot defend themselves from the greater threats who would have every world enslaved.

We must be warriors who fight for the just cause of freedom.

We must be peacekeepers who ensure order among the planets.

We must be scholars who record the events of history as it forms around us, so that posterity may look up on us in favor.

Over the next five standard years, our responsibility will not only be as warriors, peacekeepers, and scholars, but as explorers. As phrased by the United Nations Space Command, ‘the crew of the UNSC Maelstrom, as commanded by Rear Admiral Upper Half Derrick H. Thompson, is hereby entasked with the exploration of our universe beyond the Outer Colonies. They are to mark planets capable of sustaining life both with and without the aid of terraforming as well as planets and planetoids that could provide valuable resources. But, above all, the Maelstrom and her crew is hereby charged with the protection of all life, especially of citizens of the UEG and those allied with.’

Our mission is clear, ladies and gentlemen!

We shall persevere throughout the unknown, and in doing so we will bring about further peace and expansion for not only humankind, but advancements for all sentient species!”

This was met with excessive applause from servicemen, SPARTANs, and civilians alike as the master of ceremonies, an elder, retired admiral, took the podium in his raspy voice.

“That concludes the ceremony. All Maelstrom personnel may begin the boarding process at your designated entryways at 0930. Afterwards, First Review will begin at 1100 and will be performed by your respective commanders. Godspeed and good fortune to all of you!”

The SPARTANs, as was custom, would be the last to board the ship in case of an emergency. Among them, Leo-713 (colloquially referred to as “Leonidas”) was the SPARTAN-V ensign placed in command of Sigil Platoon, which would be stationed upon the Maelstrom. The SPARTAN’s armor was grey and black with a blue visor, as it was when he was first given it. On his shoulder he carried his duffel bag with his clothing and some essentials along with some novels. Contrary to popular belief, SPARTANs did spend a fair amount of time outside of the Mjolnir Armor.

Either way, after assisting in sealing some of the hatches and doors, Leo-713 began to make his way around to the SPARTAN-V Sector, a swathe in the middle of the starboard starboard side of the ship that was about two floors above one of the hangar bays wherein all of Sigil Platoon’s vehicles were stored. The SPARTAN-V Sector was also near one of the galleys on their level, as the idea was that the SPARTANs would behave optimally if given some advantages. Likewise, they were near the lifts needed to head straight to the bridge if need be. Otherwise, they also had the longest distance from the nearby escape pods, since they were intended to fight their way out.

Either way, the so-called “Sector” was comprised of roughly three floors. The bottom floor had their armor storage unit, training weapons and equipment, an exercise/drill pad, and their primary computer for communicating with the rest of the ship, though terminals and computers on the other two floors aided in that purpose. The second floor was primarily a common area, wherein there were entertainment systems that one would find in most of the other barracks common rooms throughout the ship. There was also a small kitchen area in case the SPARTANs decided to have a group bonding session, however unlikely, or didn’t have time to go to the galley. Lastly, the third floor was where the SPARTANs living quarters were located. From the second floor there were two staircases, one leading to the male side and the other to the female side. Everyone had a roommate, except for the Executive Officer and Platoon Commander. There were also showers and facilities in each half of the floor. Overall, the Sector was organized so that the first floor was the largest. However, the second and third floors were clearly smaller, but possessed windows and balconies where the SPARTANs face either aft or starboard and can look down on the whole of the exercise/drill pad.

Either way, Leo-713 was a bit hesitant, and would be visibly so if he wasn’t wearing his helmet. He would sigh, soon hearing that sagacious alto that chimed in his head on occasion. At times, he could only hope and wish that it was his conscious.

“You seem awfully worked up about this.”

The voice belonged to Leo-713’s faithful Artificial Intelligence companion, Athena. Halfway through officer training, SPARTAN-V officer candidates were selected by the AI who wanted to work with them. In his case, Leo-713 was chosen by Athena. Even still, it always helped that he had someone to converse with in the back of his head. He then spoke up, speaking in a intellectual bass.

“I think people would be far more worried if I wasn’t worried about this in regards to its full context. Not only is this my first command, but it will be under constant scrutiny the whole time. As the commander, they can probably hold me solely responsible if something goes wrong.”

“You need to relax, Leo. Even if something does go awry, Rear Admiral Thompson is a tremendous supporter of the SPARTAN-V program.”

“...Alright, then. Either way, get ready to be yanked when we get there.”

“No problem.”

Leo would do just that when he passed through the vestibule and arrived at the main terminal, pulling in Athena’s chip as she configured herself to the Sector’s setup as well as the Maelstrom’s.

While she did that, Leo located his room on the third floor and put his duffel bag down on the bed and removing his helmet for a moment, stretching around for a little but and relaxing as he felt the ship’s cool air against his pale skin for a few moments as black hair and blue eyes were briefly prominent. Regardless, the grey helm soon rested on his face as he had Athena call all of the SPARTANs onto the first floor.

Once that was accomplished, the time for introductions was nigh as the platoon stood at ease in formation.

“Good morning, everyone. I hope you’ve all talked for a little bit before this, but we will have time to do so after we get our armor removed before takeoff. I am Ensign Leo-713, and I’ll be the platoon commander while we’re stationed on the Maelstrom. As it is with many of us, this is my first deployment. The AI we will be working with, Athena, will likely introduce herself to you all later on. Either way, we will undergo First Review in a moment, after which we will get our suits off and prepare to leave the atmosphere. After we start to jump, we will also be able to leave the Sector and visit other parts of the ship. Now, stand at rest until time for First Review comes along.”

In about fifteen minutes, a lieutenant commander would appear in lieu of the Rear Admiral (who had wished to perform it himself), as he was preparing for departure in the bridge. But, after the glorified review and questioning was all said and done, Athena turned on the armor removal system, giving the SPARTAN-Vs a chance to get out of the armor. Leo-713 went last, ensuring everyone’s armor was stored and secure before following the others to the second floor, all of the SPARTANS wearing their fatigue pants, black boots, fatigue belts, and grey shirts, with Magnums and combat knives removed from their armor and holstered onto their belts.

Soon afterwards, the announcement came that there was T-minus fifteen minutes until the Maelstrom would launch and begin the slipspace jump. The SPARTANs soon went to the corridor and held fast as the enormous ship engaged engines and began to engage in vertical ascension. Climbing upwards until it reached the border of the exosphere, the ship soon began to travel at full throttle until the slipspace jump occurred, hurdling through the galaxy until it arrived on the outskirts of the Chi Ceti System, from which they would travel outwards where shared Sangheili and UEG data and star-maps left a couple of large blanks in the regions the Maelstrom and her crew would be exploring.

Soon enough, the Maelstrom’s ship AI Ramesses- who took on the form of the pharaoh by the same name- came on the ship-wide intercom, giving the all clear for crew members to begin full duties as the Maelstrom’s artificial gravity generator took on full swing. It was then that the SPARTAN-Vs began to head over to the galley, wherein officers and enlisted were intermixed due to space limitations.

Leo-713, being unfamiliar with the majority of the SPARTANs in his platoon and being somewhat socially awkward (even for a SPARTAN), merely took the salisbury steak meal that the cooks had prepared for the day and walked over to an empty table, sitting down and beginning to eat.
 
Looking over the food that had been put on her plate Valarie had spent the time almost eyeing the other food and means to which she could add to it. Having gained notoriety already for her personality and taste for almost any sort of food she eventually and without any complaints or odd looks walked across the Galley and plopped herself in the seat directly across from Leo. Mixing the food together in a silent fashion she didn't once look up at the other spartan. Seemingly fixated on what she was doing she seemed more like a chemist than a Spartan in the moment. With everything neatly added and mixed through to a constant consistency she began to eat the paste.

Taking slow bites as if to sample the meal she had thrown together she seemed to come to a consensus of its taste before eating it rather quickly. Having developed this habit from not only her childhood but from the entire regime she had been put through during her training. The meal gone in almost record time she began to blush realizing that it wasn't training any longer and that it wouldn't be taken from her for any reason. Taking a sudden glance up at him she smiled and pushed her tray away. "Hello." she finally said after a minute of studying him. She was almost like a predator studying prey. Sadly, it was an instinct driven into her and one she was learning to push down despite her time spent around others.

Pursing her lips she leaned back before leaning forward as if she was anxious or energetic. Finally stopping upon realizing she was getting antsy her training kicked in and she seemed to freeze up. She was in fact sitting in front of her officer and she was antsy. Was it a feeling of social awkwardness or a feeling of needing to get him to speak. Finally breaking the awkward silence she tilted her head "I dont know you very well. Im Val, or Valarie or whatever you want to call me. The upper echelons seem to find Valkyrie fitting." She almost half blurted out before stopping. She was an energetic one but, it hid a yearning fire within her.
 
Having watched the recruits board, Ike, or Lazarus as he was known lets his eyes linger on them each one, accessing his suits internal communications suite, Ike puts in a request for frontline assignment, or at least permeant rotation to one of the established Platoon's rather than being a general Instructor. While likely among the oldest of crewmen, or assurdly his Spartan breather, the Green Forest Stripe Spartan believes he could be of use outside of a Reserve posting, his body was not weak nor broken yet.

The Master Chief stood at ridged attention as the customary speeches were given. A few recruits asked questions, most of the veteran Spartans seemed to have little to ask, or had practical questions concerning food and Duty postings. The most curious part was the young Ensign speaking of his Platoon, letting the fact sink in that Ike was here rather than in another berthing, perhaps his assignment was being changed after all, however the removal of Armor left Ike a bit less than pleased.

While a Spartan IV he grew to see the armor as a second skin, feeling a bit unguarded with the protection and functions the suit offered. But orders were orders. Grunting a bit with an exhaling of breath, the Red visor helmet slides up and off, with the rest of the armor following suit. Making his way to the galley, it seemed the young Platoon leader was going about his duty making sure all the Armor was secured, not wanting to get in his way the Master Chief says nothing in passing, his scared face and white hair standing out amongst a bunch of youngsters. With a sudden lurch and the familiar hum of jump drives spoiling it was a bit nice to not be stuck in the freezer for a change. "Well now, lets get some of that Salisbury Steak, heh."

Eager to start his meal the NCO doesn't waste any time getting into line, while some of the younger Spartans may complain, he liked the simplicity and old fashioned meal, with a kind smile on his face memories from his Childhood briefly come to the front. Taking a seat at a table towards the rear of the Galley, Ike eats fairly leisurely with a bored expression to his face. Though subtle eye movement seems to indicate the older Spartan is studying all those around him.
 
Last edited:
Humanity weren't the only ones who had a stake in the Malestrom mission. Their Sangheili allies, the Swords of Sanghlios gave a small detachment of their Special Operations Division to support the UNSC crew. One of them, a young Sangheili named Raze'Vorum strolled toward the galley where the New Spartans were mingling with the rest. He was easy to spot, his dark seven foot reptilian humanoid form clad in blue fatigues was a dead giveaway. It felt rather unusual to be out of armor inside a warship in all honesty.

Human vessel with human rules. Raze reminded himself for the dozen time, while trying to avoid bumping into people that began to crowd around in the galley. Sure he had seen how these aliens live and trained with some in simpulations, but this was his first time, serving alongside a whole unit of them in an combat tour. Even so Raze decided to focus on relaxing instead of worrying about it all. He wasn't hungry but Raze wanted to get to know his allies a little more since they be working together for the next five years.

Raze's eyes scanned across the area for a spot to sit down later on, as he waited in line with the humans for food. Personally the Sangheili preferred ramen but he doubted they serve that delicacy onboard here. A shame he thought, hearing some muttering from behind. "Damn xeno...they don't belong here."

The warrior didn't bother to turn around and maintain a calm expression. He experienced enough of that sentiment, during his youth, staying on Earth for a time. Even though the Covenant war had been long ago, the scars of that conflict, still ran deep for both Sangheili and Humans alike. Sure they made great strides with one another but you can't just wipe away the memory of decades-long genocide and constant warfare with a few handshakes. No Raze knew it will take actions instead of words to strengthen ties with one another, hence his purpose onboard.

After receiving the steak and a cart of milk from his plate, Raze'Vorum thank the cooks and walk through the pathway of the tables, continuing to look for a spot. A few UNSC spared him a glance, some out of curiosity and others resentment. Ignoring it, Raze spotted the Spartans, Leo and Valarie sitting together having their awkward conversation. Approaching them from Leo's side Raze asked them both in an deep yet polite tone

"Pardon me, but I have a sit with you?"
 
Last edited:
Thus far, the beginning of his journey on the Maelstrom was unsurprisingly similar to the attitude of his training. Now a full-fledged SPARTAN, the rookie fire enthusiast thought that life would now be slightly more laid back. Unfortunately, at least for the events shortly following boarding, Quinn and the other of his ilk were rushed to their quarters, pushed to unpack and then wait to get questioned; as if the mere fact that they had survived training meant little. The squad leader spoke a few words and introduced himself but the others of the platoon didn't possess the same amount of time to get to know each other before they all shoved off to get something to eat. At least now out of the suit and in the mess hall with some time to relax, no one could scold him for being too sociable.

Grabbing his plate of food, Scorch turned to look for a place to sit, spotting their squad leader easily enough from the demeanor. The Marines were linked by brotherhood and family. The SPARTANS? By edge and anti-social behavior. Though nothing the joker couldn't break in due time. Though before he went to sit, he spotted two others quickly move to sit with the young officer. One was a Sanhe—Songe—an Elite and the other was what he assumed to be the female SPARTAN of Sigil. Obviously he wasn't expecting her appearance as he unconsciously let out a low whistle, then quickly tensing up. "Wait, did I do that out loud? Shit."

Panicking, he quickly disappeared from his path towards the table and instead moved towards the near empty table inhabited only by the veteran of Sigil, an old SPARTAN IV as he was told, and sat down. In his defense, the only women he had interacted with during training were—not exactly nice. Scary actually. To see one who was smiling and extremely hot was a blessing.

"Soo... I'm Quinn. I'm the guy that blows stuff up," He introduced, quickly trying to move past the minor blunder he just made.
 
Pausing from his meal, Ike lets his vision linger on the Spartan V before him, he didn't recall this one from his training Platoon, must have been part of one of the other units. Just a little shorter than himself, the younger Spartan also sported a partial beard. Judging from his earlier interaction, the Younger Spartan had made the mistake of letting his thoughts on the tall blonde becoming known.

Speaking of the blonde, a Sangheili had made his way to the table, where she and the Platoon Commander sat. Setting his fork down on the plate, the Older Spartan clenches his jaw slightly before speaking. "Master Chief Johnson, Lazarus to some, Ike to others. Former Training instructor, Heavy Infantry, possibly current, my orders seem to be lost in the System. All I know is I'm based with Sigil." Giving a shrug in regards to his situation the Spartan IV goes back to his meal, before letting his gaze linger once more.

"I hope you aren't here to use me as a shield, or to blow up my table. You look like you could use a few extra laps around the Motor pool if that's the case." Smiling slightly, the senior NCO doesn't seem to mind the Spartan V taking a seat, though the tone of his suggestion seems serious, in order to ease the tension of the situation, Ike gives his partial smile. "Not Exactly a formal situation, so at Ease."
 
SSgt Travers, Adrien

The Staff Sergeant shifted in her seat, twiddling at her thumbs. She looked around anxiously as she tried to pick out the rest of her team in the mass of dress blues. They were no doubt standing somewhere near the back, like the runts of the litter unable to get to their mothers milk. Except that there was no milk here, just a Rear Admiral and his 'Motivational' speech she thought as she imagined the air quotations around the "motivation". Finally it ended and the crew was dismissed to board the Maelstrom.

It really was massive, but she had been on an Infinity class before, it was in her records if you looked, just covered in black ink. She made her way to the back of the mass of bodies as they surged toward the ship. Spotting her team standing near a supply truck she made her way to them as quickly as the wave of people allowed her to.

"Good to know you're all holding down security at the rear." she sneered as she finally broke through the mass of bodies. She set her sea bag down at her side and tossed a look back at the Maelstrom. "Rather impressive what the Navy boys can do isn't it?" she said to none of them in particular before turning back to them, "First time on an Infinity class ship correct Leads?" she asked to the youngest of the fireteam Private First Class Aaron Leads, a boy no older than twenty of African decent hailing from the reclaimed colony world of Harvest. He functioned as a basic Operator within the team, filling the void that the others left, he was quick and clever and Travers couldn't help but feel he was destined to lead a Squad of his own at some point, if not become a Platoon Sergeant later on.

"Correct Staff, can't wait to get on her seems like there will be quite some exploring to be done." the Private said in awe of the ship.

"You'll have plenty of time to explore, hell you'll probably get sick of her after a year, and if you don't get your dam surface warfare device like the rest of us by then... Well I don't think we can keep yah" teased Hospital Corpsman Third Class Edwin Tai as he gave his warfare device a tap on his chest. He was a native born of Charybdis IX and Navy through and through as evident by his lax hair restrictions and the rat growing on his upperlip. He had join in the hopes of going to college on their dime afterward, but now nearly six years later it seemed he would be in it for the long haul.

Travers shook her head and watched as the banter went on, giving a nod to Lance Corporal Christian Adams; the teams designated marksman, a fancy term for someone who gets to carry around a really large sniper rifle who was leaning against the truck his black hair buzzed to strict standards and his face freshly shaven as evident by the small scab under his chin. "Any way, wait for the lines at the gantries to die down a bit then get on board. Stow your stuff and meet me in the lounge thirty mikes from now." she said as she hefted her sea bag off the ground and turned for the gantries.
 
"Master Chief Johnson, please report to Admiral Thompson on the bridge as soon as possible. Repeat, Master Chief Johnson, please report to Admiral Thompson on the bridge."

Ramesses' voice rang on the intercom in the galley as Leo turned his head the Sanghelli warrior, motioning for him to join the two as he swallowed his meal. Leo was eating his meal much slower than Val was, an article of behavior that was more self-control than anything else. He would speak up in a cautious baritone, the SPARTAN-V extending his greetings to the other SPARTAN as well as the Elite who had come to join them.

"I'm Leo-713, also called 'Leonidas.' You'll be meeting Athena soon enough. I wasn't aware we were having any Sanghelli joining us off of the first jump... then again, we V's have been in the dark for a long time now. I highly doubt that I'll find myself with all the pieces anytime soon, though. Right now we're just under a combination of heavy watch and the ever-present choke chain. But I think... I think I've said enough. What is your name, warrior?"

Meanwhile, on the bridge, the formidable SPARTAN-II sat in his captain's chair, soon standing up and walking towards the viewing screen. Pushing in a few buttons, a large star chart appeared on the hard-light projection as the elderly warrior pulled at his dress collar, the elder man hating the collar on the uniform. Scratching his chin with a sigh as he reexamined the course with an eye of scrutiny, part of mind shivered as he remembered the various campaigns that he had been a part of in this sector in the Human-Covenant War. But that was a long time ago- things were far more different now, as if one couldn't tell by the Elites and Hunters on the bridge with the other, human bridge personnel. Placing his hands behind his back with a sigh, he called out to the various officers on the bridge, getting some answers as he spoke in his gruff and grizzled tenor.

"How long we reach the Chi Ceti System?"

"Two standard days at current speed, captain."

"Any chance we can jump to lightspeed or slipspace to make better time?"

"No, captain- it would not be advisable to make such jumps while close to heavily populated systems."

"Very well."

The admiral sighed, popping his neck. This was going to be a long mission.
 
Last edited:
Probably unlike most of the people listening to the Captain's speech; Marcus-777 critiqued the attempt at inspiring words in his head while he boarded the Maelstrom in regards to its pros and cons though overall it mainly just sounded like an over glorified briefing for a mission rather than an inspirational speech...least by Marcus' standards in regards to his knowledge of historical speeches. But then again it received a mass applause from most in attendance so it did what it had to.

Then came his platoon commanders first speech to them all again just the like the Captain's words his sounded much more like some briefing which was expected at this point but Marcus could peer through the platoon commander's outer shell and see the discomfort within him as the scout sniper SPARTAN had become well versed in this kind of thing which made him more socially adept than his fellow brothers and sisters in arms though it would be more so in a technical stand point.

Feeling quite alright whether in or out of his armor the SPARTAN petty officer acquired his meal much like everyone else and walked over to what seemed to be the more interesting table from his point of view. The table which included the Platoon Commander, a familiar face of a blonde haired SPARTAN he'd recognized from some time ago, codename Valkyrie if he recalled correctly and also a Sanghelli or Elite as they are known to be called. Though just before he made his way over there his keen awareness noticed another familiar SPARTAN..."Scorch." He knew/remembered this one from apparent "explosive mishaps" during training. He cracked a smile when he realized what he was doing as Marcus linked the dots between Valkyrie and Scorch before finally making his way over.

While the table conversed with each other he silently took a seat across from the Sanghelli and next to Val-888. He took had a few bites of food before piping up while leaning next to Val and subtly pointing at "Scorch." "Seems you've got an admirer; Valkyrie." After doing so going back to his food before realizing he hadn't introduced himself to the table. "Oh, I am Marcus by the way. Marcus-777 or Fate if you'd rather. Petty Officer SPARTAN Scout Sniper." He tag along at the end before going back to his meal.
 
Hearing the older man out, the younger Spartan nodded his head. From how the man talked, it was likely he had been out of the action for a while. Probably a Spartan IV model kept in cryostasis and recently unfrozen. "I get it... So you're what... a four?" He inquired taking another bite from his plate, but then the veteran's comment on his screw-up caused him to stop a moment. "Hey, I don't think I need to tell you how many pretty girls you see during training, and considering this is my first deployment, the last girl I talked with would run into the sims with a grin shouting Rip and Tear!" Sighing, Quinn shook his head recalling the events. If they didn't have a couple of screws loose, they were full-on monotone, save for a few such as himself.

A few moments later, the older Spartan's name came out of the intercoms, summoning him to the bridge. Chuckling a bit, Quinn shrugged. "Well, there goes my shield," He joked as he picked up his tray. "Nice meeting you Laz... Now lets see if I make more of a fool out of myself."

As the two went their separate ways, Scorch moved tables from the now desolate one to the one filled with his squad-mates and one elite, noting one Spartan's point as he made his way over. Sighing, he sat his tray down before himself and responded. "Yeah, I'm a dork... Didn't exactly take to the monotone my sim buddies did... So... I'm Quinn, or Scorch. Petty Officer Third Class. I blow things up."
 
Grunting a bit, the older NCO sets his fork down giving a lethargic nod. "Yeah, I'm a Four, instructed some of the other Platoons. My first tour of Duty was back in the Army during the time Squidface over there was the enemy Glassing us every chance they got."

Narrowing eyes at the Elite Warrior, it seemed Ike had a deep burning hatred for the Covenant, though if what he said was True, that would make the Master Chief far older than he appeared.

"Son, word of advice, when you get to be my age desire to rise front and center goes away a bit. She's just a pretty face I would have liked 20 years ago..or 40. But what's below that face? As you said rip and tear." Glancing at the Spartan the Master Chief had a funny feeling on that one, with that frame she likely was a scout at home in close. Or so he assumed at any rate.

"You would be better off seeking out something on shore leave, or someone in the support services. Take it as kindly advice born of Wisdom, Quinn. Life is short th-"

When it seemed like the senior NCO was about to prattle on more, he's called for over the ship comm system.. And given who was doing the asking, it was no time to lounge around. Sighing again Ike gets up from the table looking at his meal with a bit of a disappointed stare. Orders were orders, and even if it was a heaping helping of Ice Cream Flag officers were NOT kept waiting. Least the one he was meeting was okay as far as the Flags went, one could say he even got along with him fairly well.

Picking up into a brisk Jog the Spartan IV doesn't even break a sweat as within minutes he reaches the Bridge. Snapping a smart salute, Johnson announces his presence, waiting for the Admiral to get to business. "S788, Master Chief Johnson I.,
Reporting to the Admiral as ordered Sir."


Until the Admiral made it known how much Latitude he wanted in the respect category Lazarus had no intention on giving the officer cause for a reprimand. While some people remained the same from Seaman to Fleet Admiral, some how a funny way of changing on you without warning once they tripped into Flag Grade.
 
Last edited:
"Master Chief Johnson, please report to Admiral Thompson on the bridge as soon as possible. Repeat, Master Chief Johnson, please report to Admiral Thompson on the bridge."

Ramesses' voice rang on the intercom in the galley as Leo turned his head the Sanghelli warrior, motioning for him to join the two as he swallowed his meal. Leo was eating his meal much slower than Val was, an article of behavior that was more self-control than anything else. He would speak up in a cautious baritone, the SPARTAN-V extending his greetings to the other SPARTAN as well as the Elite who had come to join them.

"I'm Leo-713, also called 'Leonidas.' You'll be meeting Athena soon enough. I wasn't aware we were having any Sanghelli joining us off of the first jump... then again, we V's have been in the dark for a long time now. I highly doubt that I'll find myself with all the pieces anytime soon, though. Right now we're just under a combination of heavy watch and the ever-present choke chain. But I think... I think I've said enough. What is your name, warrior?"

The Sangheili soldier was slightly amused as he took a sit, humans can be so talkative, it was part of their charm in his slient opinion. He can tell Leo was tested as a leader already, which is a necessary step for growth. The same can be said for rest of the new Spartan class, rumors abound about in the military, something about strange abilities. His uncle told Raze numerous tales of the 'Demons' in action during the Great Slipspace War and the Covenant conflict before that. Such stories left him throughly amazed as a youth. Time will tell if this new generation can live the legends before them, Raze was looking foreword to it.

Hopefully they will give me and my brothers a chance to show our commitment to the cause.

"My name is Raze'Vorum, Spec Ops Officer." He said the latter words with no small amount of pride, it had been a hard earned title for him. Suddenly he remembered humans' consistent use for shorten names or nicknames as they called them, the Elite added.

"But you can call me Raze if that is your preference."

Then Raze watched on as more Spartans came over including the one called Scorch who earlier 'admired' the female fighter Val. Marcus seem to be a marksman as he claimed judging by the way he held himself, Raze been a around a few to tell the signs.

"As for your inquiry Leo, yes the Swords have sent a contingent to assist in your expedition...though I noticed it is not wholly welcomed."

As if to emphasize his point, Raze spotted a few more resentful glances from the other tables toward his direction.
 
Sgt. Nick Skimming
ODST
A sigh of relief passed through his nose as he shuffled his way through the growing crowd to stand with the rest of his unit. He already said his goodbyes to his supporting family members before heading in, and was just ready to get going. Everyone here was. He noticed SSgt Travers arrive almost at the same time he himself did. She had said something to the group, but he didn't hear.

He gave a quick nod to Travers as she commented on the marvel of the Maelstrom. He chuckled at Tai's comments to the pfc, and added in his own-

"Hey don't listen to Joe Navy here, he gets confused sometimes. He got his hanging out with Marines, but command still hasn't made him one yet." he muttered and gave a nudge to the corpsman, as he set his bag at his feet, careful not to drop it on the shoes he polished only a few hours ago.

"Okay, 'Army'. I'll remember that the next time you want some sick chits." Tai replied with a narrowed eye.

"Love you, sweetie." He chuckled quietly before passing a look to Travers. "Mornin' Staff Sergeant," Skimming nodded her way, and began to straighten himself up. Skimming was getting used to trying to be more of an adult than he had been previously.

As Travers gave them a heads up on their meet, he brushed his sleeve back to look at the watch on his left wrist to double check the current time. The embark began, and everyone seemed eager to get off on a good start. This would be something different for most people aboard. A exploration expedition. The ODST and combat crew aboard were only there as fail-safe to their primary mission. It's not like they were being thrust toward insurrectionists or any enemy covenant fleets anymore. However, tensions were still existent between the 'nations', it's a cooperative effort now.

Having changed out of his blues, he made his way to the marine's designated lounge to meet up. The halls were rather busy for what he imagined. People going to and fro. He was hoping to do some light pt before they got underway, but wasn't excited to remind himself he'd be doing lots of running in circles now that he was on a ship. The life of a marine on board was going to be boring. Firewatch, mess duty, maybe looking after their drop vehicles. He prepared himself with plenty of music, and digital books.

But now he was making his way to their special lounge area- dodging younger squids getting acquainted and walking the halls. Not blaming them, this was going to be their home for the next several years. Though he would prefer to get the lay of the land later, as he figured he had plenty of time to get his bearings later. It was nice to finally be special operations, the pay, and treatment was much better. Hell, the ODST's had their own lounge. He'd get to know some of the other guys and gals on the unit, but for now- he wanted to meet with Travers and the rest of his own team.
 
[fieldbox=RAML Derrick Thompson, green, solid, 8, book antiqua]
For the most part, Ironsides was still the same man he was when the Great Slipspace War ended and he was a full lieutenant, itchy trigger finger at all. After all, you could never take the fight and the stubbornness out of a SPARTAN-II. With a light chuckle, the admiral rose from his chair, calling for the second officer to take command of the bridge while he moved to greet his friend and colleague by returning his salute and speaking in his grizzled tenor.

"At ease, Ike- times like this you don't have to be any more formal than me than when were in the trenches during the war. It's great to see you out of ice- it took me a while to get you out since Vice Admiral Garcia was very adamant about keeping you frozen and sent to Grunt homeworld. But I pulled a few favors to get you thawed and on my ship. Follow me, please."

The admiral soon began walking down the hallway, leading into the deck's empty observation platform as the massive Infinity-class spaceship sailed through the heavens at near-maximum speed without any jumping. With a sigh and making sure that they were alone, Derrick-076 face his friend, wiping his brow and sighing.

"I know you've probably got some questions, Ike- but let me clear up a few things first. I wanted to tell you in person since your orders got lost in the system that you're going to be the platoon XO for the SPARTAN-V platoon. I know it's not glamorous, but with ONI up my ass for being one of the last II's and for being one of the few who support keeping the newbies alive, you were the only one I could trust. I know this is a bit much and I hope you can forgive me. Those kids need a chance to shine with ONI wrecking up their lives- they're already going to be monitored by an ODST/marine group lead by one SSGT Travers- I'll have to arrange a meeting with you two. I don't want this to be like..."

The elderly SPARTAN then leaded forward, griping the guiderail so tight it almost snapped.

"...to be like Lodestone. ONI's doing their damnedest to keep me out of the loop, despite being this ship's captain as well as the technical sponsor for those greenhorn V's. I'd like you to keep me up-to-date on their training outside of their commander's reports- of course you don't have to if you don't want to. You know I prefer not to force people to do things they don't want to like this, but I must ask. You're the only person I could call on from the war, the one I could trust the most. Will you help me, Ike?"

Lodestone was the single biggest massacre of the Great Slipspace War, one that Derrick-076 and Ike had both fought in alongside their platoon. It had all been caused by the fact that ONI had withheld information from the officers on the planet, allowing the enemy rebels to take the primary military installations by surprise. The only survivors were the SPARTAN platoon, some marines, and a small amount of freshly orphaned children. Out of all the assignments and tours that the admiral had been on in his tenure, that was the one that still haunted him at night and kept him awake with fear. As such, even though his platoon was present at the last battle of the war thanks to ONI's intel, he was always skeptical of the lying dastards.
[/fieldbox]
 
Judging by the Admiral's reply, he hadn't changed much at all and was allowing some latitude of informality in the conversation. Narrowing his eyes as Derrick mentioned the Grunts and Garcia's plans the Master Chief doesn't bother mentioning his thoughts and objections, while he could begrudgingly respect the Elites he outright held disdain for the Grunts, those that weren't cowards were suicide bombers, the only race of the Covenant he held with more disdain were the so called Brutes and Jackals, and one of those was no longer a factor. Following the Admiral the Observation deck was a rather calming sight, open and most importantly, alone.

Listening to the rest of what Derrick had to say, Ike seems to take a thoughtful pose to his face that soon turns to one of confusion. Finally settling on a look of distaste with the mention of ONI, Ike takes a parade rest stance, allowing himself to be at ease. Though the mention of Lodestone seemed to irk Ike, it was not to the same point as the Admiral, for Ike the source of any nightmares would be Reach when the glassing started and what was left of his Division were escaping in desperation. Lodestone however was a bitter Memory, no Spartan liked Defeat, more so strategic ones because of hidden intel.

"Derrick, was there ever a need to ask? I finally get to do something more than babysitting and teaching the bricks their right from their left, I'm one of, if not the last remaining first production IV's and I want to fight. ODST's aren't as good as Spartan's, but I've worked with them enough to know they'll be useful. It sure beats being locked in Ice, or marshaling those walking Gas tanks." Using a tactful manner of accepting the observers a small smirk appears briefly on the others face.

Thinking on the next bit he needed to answer, Ike knew the Admiral was round about asking him to supplement the reports he received, this was in Ike's eyes a round about way of requesting he spied on them. Though with what amounted to a team of Oni dogs assisting them, the Admiral likely wanted a set of eyes on them in turn.

A Spartan II, a legend, promoted to Rear Admiral, with one of the mightiest ships in the fleet, escort ships, Spartan's and Marines at his finger tips... Yet in the end he only could confide in one old man. While Ike unquestioningly believed in the need of the Earth Government, ONI and it's private objectives always irked him, they constantly danced on a line of being Spooks or Secret Police. As a professional soldier Ike didn't like either.

"I'll send reports on what I observe in Spartan Ops, I'll also keep an eye on our... allies discreetly. Other than that I'll give the young officer any help he needs. Besides I'm getting too old to train yet another group of V's.. But I'm young enough to make sure the ones we have keep sweating." venturing a kind smile, Ike in true agriworlder fashion Ike holds his right hand out to the admiral to seal the deal with a handshake.

Be it because of old Loyalties or the age of both men, the Master Chief in not uncertain terms gave his loyalty to the Admiral in the face of potential ONI interference.

(OOC think I'll have him go back to the galley when this is done barring a time skip or responses from others on my next post)
 
[fieldbox=ENS Leo-713 & RAML Derrick Thompson, gray, solid, 8, book antiqua]
Taking his comrade's hand and shaking it firmly, the old warrior chuckled, smirking at the younger SPARTAN. Although they were only five years apart biologically, the admiral was so much more older, dropping his hand and tugging at the annoying collar again before speaking up as the leatherneck-style clasp bit at his neck.

"I can't thank you enough, Ike. And don't worry about having them be daily reports- just do it whenever you think it's necessary- perhaps once a week otherwise. And if there's absolutely anything you need, I'll most likely either be in my suite, my office, or the bridge. I'll do my best to get you whatever I can as soon as I can. I'll have to get back to bridge as soon as possible. Oh... and I'm sorry about taking you away from the galley. Since they heard you being called, you shouldn't have any trouble getting a new meal. Other than that, assuming everything goes to plan, the V's are going to get a chance to stretch their legs when we get to Chi Ceti. I'll invite you to poker night later on, just like old times."

With a warm chuckle, the commanding officer made his way out of the observation deck after his friend's response, resuming command on the bridge.

Leo, however, kept an eye on the galley before snapping his attention back to the conversation. Leo had been born with ADHD, which had been effectively nullified by his genetic augmentations- although he retained some of the side-effects, which aided in his proficiency with the energy sword and in battle tactics.

"Either way, Raze, I can't wait to see what exercises that they put us up with you. They're having SPARTANs keep out of their armor when off-duty as some sort of safety measure, albeit it one I don't completely understand."
[/fieldbox]
 
SSgt Travers, Adrien

Travers took a sip of her coffee, black as she liked it and not bad for the stuff from a Navy ship either... Though whether it was really from the Navy or one of the team she wasn't sure. She took a quick glance around the table and it seemed they were only waiting on Skimming and Leads. "Anyone got any idea where the new guy is at?" she asked as she eyed her watch, to her right HM3 Tai answered her question as if he had been ready for it.

"Seems that Leads got a bit lost, first time on an Infinity tends to throw even the most seasoned sailors off, can't really blame him. He sent a message to my pad just a minute ago, says he finally broke and asked another squid for directions, he'll be in shortly." Tai joked as he leaned back in his chair, "As for Sgt Skimming, I imagine he's on his way. Isn't too normal to see a Sergeant and especially a spec-ops guy like him la---" Tai cut himself off mid-sentence as the Sergeant entered the lounge his smiling showing the rest of the team that he had been right in his assumptions on the new Sergeant.

"Nice of you to join of Skimming, take a seat and we can began. Leads isn't especially critical to the brief so we can start now." Travers said to the NCO as she motioned to an open seat around the small table in the centered of the lounge they were given. She pulled out her own data pad and started pulling up files, quickly placing them into a message to be sent to the whole team. She triple checked the recipients to make sure she wasn't sending some of the Navy's most damning documents to Gary the IT guy and sent the message.

She sighed as everyone's terminals gave a small "ding" signaling they had gotten the message and leaned a bit back in her chair, 'Just have to wait for them to piece it together on their own.'. She eyed LCpl Adams as he opened the message and began sifting through the documents, his face giving away almost no hint of what he was thinking, save for the look in his eyes that spelled disgust on a level entirely foreign to most people she knew.

"No fucking way Staff..." came HM3 Tai, "They fucking did it again with these V's. They fucking abducted kids and forced them through the most screwed up training regiment ever imagined..." Tai was astonished as he took a moment to breath, "Augmentations and everything.... Some of these kids died just like the II's. Sick fucks." he finished.

Travers nodded along and took his finishing and the rest of the groups silence as her chance to speak, "I know I know. The wack-jobs that enjoy putting kids through torture int he name of 'The Ultimate Weapons' got a free pass to experiment again, I don't like it just as much as the next but we can't stop what has already happened." she said, the tinge of being defeated in a battle she had never even fought leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, "Doesn't matter right now, I'm sure as you all know we work for ONI now... Obedient watchdogs we have become." she said jokingly.

"But on to why you were called to this--" she motioned to the documents she had sent, "--The deal is this gentlemen, we're here to keep an eye on these kids as they go through basic combat trials and exercises. As far as I know we either drop in with them or drop when they get into enough of a hitch that we need to bail them out." she said to the team. "Tai since I know you haven't figured it out yet our job here is to be the Spartan fucking rescue team. A bunch of unmodified normal humans have been chosen to cover these kids asses." she gave a smile to the man.

"Much obliged Staff." he said, close enough to be a real thank you. "But don't they have Spartan IV's that could do this job?" he asked curiously. "They do, and I'm pretty sure there are a few here watching over this new bunch. They'll probably already be on the ground when things go South. Kind of like advisers I guess. We're just meat for the machine is all." she answered.

She took a sip of her now cooling coffee and put it back on the table before speaking again, "That's the gist of it. Tai I want you to read over their augmentations and abilities, as well as the unclassified bits on their armor. I need you to be Johnny-on-the-Spot if we have to get one of these things out of their armor. And I definitely don't want you killing an expensive piece of hardware like a Spartan because you don't know what forcefully purging a neural link manually will do, so read up." she said to the Corpsman.

"Aye aye Staff." came the Navy mans reply.

"Lance Corporal." she said Adams.

"Go ahead" he said with a nod.

"I need you to know how to take one of these Spartans down in their armor with that fancy rifle of yours. From what I get, they may not all be the most stable bunch, figure it out." she said cold and serious. "Staff...? They're the good guys aren't they?" the boy said, the confusion evident on his face.

"They're supposed to be yes. But that doesn't matter, what matters is that that was one of the sets of circumstances ONI outlined for us to be ready for--" she paused to take a sip of her coffee and turned to Skimmings, "Sergeant I need you to read up on proper scuttling procedures for their armor and the Spartans bodies themselves. If we need to pull out and we're under too much fire to recover them, I expect you to be able to give them a battlefield cremation so that nothing can be used against us in the future."

She took another sip of her coffee and looked at the team, "ONI isn't taking chances with their newest freak show, any questions?"
 
"Chi Ceti, take it the techs want us for something then.." Pausing as the officer apologized and tried to smooth over the situation, was a bit much to say the least, Hastily the Master Chief smiles while trying to make the situation into a small matter, not even worth mentioning.

"Say no more sir, just don't pull rank on me with the game. And I'll try keeping the reports as part of some other routine. Less trouble for us both." Ike says in response, knowing better than to keep the Admiral waiting, in all honesty Ike had found himself being given a whole lot of latitude in this situation.

Noticing Derrick gripping at his collar, it bothered him some how this situation went out, most of the II's seemed to be in from the cradle to the grave, something that in Ike's own case had been artificially lengthened. There was little helping it however, all he could do for now was get the Spartan V's up to par, though they were highly trained enough as is if truth be told...

The only thing really left to do was return to the Galley, giving a salute in parting Ike hurries back the way he came, with luck his meal may still be there and untouched, if not he would just request a new one. There was also the Ensign he needed to have a brief talk with, though might would be best to wait till he was done with his meal, he did have a crowd at his table after all.


(OOC Bit of a meh post, but not much I can do on my end, unless I want him showing up no quicker than he left, which doesn't seem feasible.)
 
ODST Sgt. Skimming, Nick


He nodded, pulled out a chair and sat with a heavy drop of his body. "Hey all," was all he said, simply. Travers finished her greeting, and Nick went along- "Right- lets do the thing." he pulled out a thin datapad in preparation to the meet.

The briefing was surprising, but he wasn't in shock. Their corpsman went on about how messed up the whole situation was. Nick's eyes just fixated on the HM3 and his eyes widened, however he nodded in agreement. Opinions on the spartan projects were all over the place. Most people looked up to them as high speed top tier warriors. These marines seemed to be on the same page of unease with the projects.

"He's right. Shit's pretty messed up" he added. The briefing continued. Though all he could think about was why, oh why, was the Marine Corps' special operators tasked with keeping an eye on the crew- rather than regular Naval Intelligence operators. Those guys were insane, too, but maybe it's because it would be a little more 'fishy' to always be seeing an intel officer wandering around 'inconspicuously' on the ship. At least the Navy specwarcom worked with Marine Corps ODST periodically. That would work as a decent enough 'cover', if you could call it that. Then again, maybe the SPARTANS assumed they'd be watched- it's not like they were ignorant by any means. They were the Navy's new toys, so to speak.

Travers forwarded some docs to the teams individual accounts. Typical stuff he imagined it to be. Covering suit specs, and individual spartan files. Skimming passed them off as biological tanks with human brains attached. Built for war. Some would think it commendable, hardcore shit. He thought it was deplorable. Forcing humans into the trials at a young age, putting them through biological changes. Were they really even human at that point?

Despite his personal feelings, the spartan program was successful, and effective- and their force multiplier was proven multiple times. He's heard plenty of stories and read several reports of Spartans salvaging an operation, or bailing out forces placed in hard spots or nearing a rout.

Their staff sergeant continued giving the team their focuses. Listening intently to each one, he kept tabs on them.. Not to mention looking at how to do some of the same things himself. There seemed to be a few soft points in the armor, though he obviously wasn't nearly as qualified as their HM3, he would also pay attention to data around providing aide, and deconstructing their intricate armored suits.

His duty was denying recovery by the enemy. Simple enough, he gave an enthusiastic series of nods and replied, "So far, doesn't look like anything some thermite couldn't handle. But I'll be double checking," he nodded. Everything was always easier in theory, but he would certainly be looking into it. If nothing, he was thorough.

There was a brief silence before Skimming spoke up again, his thick browline raising on one side.

"So what sort of enemy is command looking to uncover out there- that they wanted to drag so much expensive navy specwarcom hardware out?" His mind continued the question- wondering if this was all just some cover operation to test out the new gen fives? He had a penchant for always suspecting command of knowing more than they let on. Especially effective now that his unit was under ONI. The original reports were that the outer colonies were being hit by something, or someone. Already suspecting the top-brass knew what it was, he began turning scenarios over in his mind.
 
  • Like
Reactions: FrostedCaramel
Status
Not open for further replies.