Halo: The SPARTAN-Vs IC

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by AceSorcerer, Feb 27, 2016.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. 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.
     
  2. Micheal-666

    Although Micheal often joked and enjoyed his time with his squad he felt quite out of place. He had been with the same people almost his whole life but now he was with some of his training comrades but also a bunch of strangers. He wasn't sure how people would react so he simply just ate waiting for someone to break the ice. Usually it was him but he was way to nervous about making a bad impression in front of the current commander. He wanted to get to know him before making any wisecracks or jokes. He took his meal and sat with Leo-713. Leo already had and AI and would be in command of Sigil Platoon. Micheal was jealous as he wanted his own AI. However he kept his mouth shut and simply just ate with the commander, not to disturb his meal.

    In the back of Micheal's head he thought about wanting to get back into his armor right about now. His armor was black with purple highlights and visor. It was his safe place where he was pretty much invincible if he played his cards right. Micheal remembered how Leo's AI would introduce herself on her own accord. Micheal had always been "friends" with any of the AI he could. He had taken a fascination in AI and always sought to know more about how they reacted and thought. It wasn't out of any evil intention but out of a passion. He had always read in his sci-fi books about the evil AI trying to take over the world or something but the reality was that AI's helped us and we have been able to deal with the rampancy of rouge AI. Micheal thought of a question he meant to ask earlier "Leo... Do you think I can have a BR instead of an assault rife? I've never liked our assault rifles and I have taken a fancy to the BR lately."
     
  3. Morpheus 514 - "Moe"

    Moe was in the middle of the line for chow, not at the back or the front, just the average center. 'Just like me' he thought as he reached the first assortment of galley meals, he moved his tray over the food and scooped in what must have been mashed potatoes and some sort of meat. He never minded the food, it was all nutrient dense and protein rich so it would keep them in shape and it must have had some sort of flavor additives to increase its taste from the "bland" his tongue imagined to the actual taste when he ate the stuff. Grabbing a glass of milk and a glass of water he stood for a moment as he tried to pick out somewhere to sit.

    Everyone was already eating and chatting and there weren't many open spaces left, so he opted to take a chance and follow Lucifer to the Platoon Command table. Sitting next to Lucifer, he was a bit set back by his comments on his favorite weapon, "It's a great rifle. You just need to really know when it's strong and she'll never let you down Petty Officer." he said, his voice hinting at admiration, "There's a reason it's still the mainstay of UNSC yah know?" he said half a question and half a statement as he motioned a fork full of potatoes at him before wolfing it down. He looked toward his platoon commander and gave a nod of acknowledgement and a simple, "Afternoon sir." before returning to his food.

    'This will be an interesting platoon.' he thought as he looked around the mess and back to his table. He was excited. Anxious even, this was what they had all been training for since they were taken and they finally had the chance to be put to work.
    Staff Sergeant Travers
    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 a litter not able 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.

    "O'Brien you shit, why the hell were none of you up there with me?!" she asked angrily of her teammate; Sergeant O'Brien, a Scotsman at heart but born on Mars, he was the resident explosives expert and 2IC (Second in Command) of the fireteam; he looked at her for a moment before answering in his Martian accent, a combination of a Texan drawl and his Scottish ancestry, "Well you see Staff, they wouldn't let anyone below Staff Sergeant up to the front. Don't know why... Some ass-backwards Navy shit if I had to pin it on something." he said playfully mocking her.

    "Fine I'll let it slide, but you buy the first round once we're onboard. This damn starship better have a half-decent bar somewhere." she said as she turned back to look at the massive feat of engineering.

    She gave the rest of her team a quick check to make sure they were all present, Lance Corporal Christian Adams; the teams designated marksman, a fancy term for someone who gets to carry around a really large sniper rifle 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. To his right stood Hospital Corpsman Third Class Edwin Tai, 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.

    The final member of Travers' team was 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.

    She gave quick nods to each of them and spoke "Alright you shits lets get on the Navies newest toy, lines have died down a bit. I'll meet you all at the common room on our deck in fifteen mikes." she finished and picked up her sea bag to a chorus of "Rogers" from her team. Starting to the Maelstrom she couldn't help but feel a sadness in her gut, an aching of what was to come. She'd felt it before, usually before a drop but this one was different, 'heavier' if she could understand what that even meant. She occupied her mind as she counted the metallic clacking of her dress shoes as she made her way up the gangway.
     
  4. Tan skin and bobbed hair, Lochan's distinctly Eurasian appearance was a somewhat distinct difference from most of the other Spartans. Despite not having an AI of her own, Lochan (or 'Lochi' to some) was surprisingly steady on her own. Perhaps it was simply her lack of passion, or how easy it seemed for her to simply remain calm instead of expending the energy to panic or rage. It may not have been healthy, but she kept passing psychiatric tests.... so she couldn't be that bad.

    Another Spartan with blond hair was bothering the commander about what kind of weapons he wanted when Lochan sat down at the same table. She ate wordlessly, though she was listening in on the quiet conversations going on around them. Lochan was socially competent enough to carry on polite conversation, though asking for anything more than that was as effective as talking to the table and asking about its life, hopes, and dreams.

    It never got much of an answer. How she got to be a Medic was a mystery. She wasn't much of a nourisher, and while she was plenty intelligent enough, she always came off as a bit strange. Always with some sort of faraway expression, even when being directly spoken to. It annoyed some commanding officers, especially when they found out the hard way that yes, she was indeed paying attention, thank you very much. She couldn't help how her face looked. That same expression was there now, in the quiet gaze and somewhat relaxed posture. She had yet to say any sort of greeting to her messmates.
     
  5. The SPARTAN in command would chuckle as he suddenly gained his company, unusually comfortable with this. He had seen Lochan a few times before, but only in passing. Most likely he had seen them all before, but Lochan was merely the most recent. He did remember some talk of "Lucifer," the many jokes and comments about the SPARTAN's marksmanship seemingly never-ending among the members of his training squad. Leo never did quite understand the excitement over firearms, the SPARTAN finding himself in preference of his Energy Sword and telekinetic capabilities. Continuing to eat before addressing the NCO's question, the ensign tried not to inhale this food- exceedingly well-made as opposed to the food that the SPARTAN-Vs had been fed in their over two decades of training.

    "You know as well as I do that we can't go and swap it out. ONI is observing very intently, and if we can avoid unnecessary requests and requisitions- especially those which go against the regulations of the UNSC Navy- we can likely find favor. The fates of our sleeping brothers rest on our shoulders, and I hope not to let them down. Therefore, I would think that we should not do so. After we have proven our mettle, I'd recommend you make the request. If worse comes to worse, you make the exchange in battle, taking the gun when there is no ammunition left. But I do not yet think that will come to pass.

    "At least, now for now."
     
  6. "Worst comes to worst huh? Hell I don't care where I get one as long as I can keep it. I'll probably pick one up during the first mission if I'm going to be real honest." Micheal wasn't being insubordinate but he did love his BR's. Everytime he got one some higher up would take it from him and he really was itching for one of his own. He didn't say anything else and went to eating the rest of his food. He knew that bitching and complaining get him nowhere so he didn't bother continuing to ask. Leo made a pretty good point however about exchanging the actual gun in battle was simple. The reason Micheal didn't like the Assault Rifle was because he always ran out of ammo. With the BR you could get a lot more headshots and conserve a lot more ammo but he figured keeping quiet would be a better idea.

    He heard a lot of rumors pertaining to Leo throught his training days, Lochan too. Both good and bad. Now that he is together with both of them he can figure out which ones are true. Micheal would respect Leo's decision to now allow him to take a BR in battle. Simply being in the spot he is garners some respect. Moe was another topic. Other than liking a terrible weapon he didn't really train with him all the much if at all. "Yeah the mainstay of the damn infantry. Not this Spartan however. A gun isn't useful when you run out of ammo."


     
  7. Moe

    He laughed at Leo's, the Spartan practically told him to shove it but really nicely. Moe didn't care, it was his opinion after-all and he couldn't change that. "Well, to each their own then huh?" he said before he took another fork full of potatoes and proceeded to greedily gulp it down. He gave a curt nod to the Warrant Officer that had taken a seat with them and reached for the salt in the middle of the table. Definitely a female, but she was oddly proportioned to say the least, it threw Moe off.

    "Afternoon Ma'am." he said after swallowing his potatoes. He turned his attention to the LT, looking at him with curiosity, "As far as our mission goes Sir, what exactly are we doing out here?" he motioned to the mess hall with his hands and kept on "What is the Maelstrom supposed to be doing for the next year, and why did they need us V's here? They are plenty of other places they could have placed us to get combat data.... So why the Maelstrom....?" he asked, pretty sure the LT didn't have an answer but wishing he did.

    Travers

    "The fearless leader arrives!" O'Brien yelled sarcastically as Travers made her way down the stairs to the common room. Her team was all there, waiting for whatever she had wanted to talk to them about. She took a seat across from HM3 Tai and grabbed a cup of coffee that had been set out onto the table by one the the four men, if she had to guess it was probably Leads.

    "Alright alright, I get it, OFP right? Yeah well I am in charge so I don't have to make the deadlines I set, those are for you to meet." she said as she took a sip of the coffee nearly burning her lips, "Whenever I get here I'm on time." she said with the hint of a joke. Setting down the coffee she pulls out her data pad and pulls up some files. She glanced over the recipients list making a final check that she wasn't sending them to the wrong people.

    "Listen up, in case you've been wondering why we're here it's for some babysitting bullshit. A whole year in the black to keep an eye on some ONI black project spooky bullshit." she took a pause as she hit 'SEND'. "You're all getting the 'TOP SECRET but not full version of what ONI can tell us' version of these documents." she said with a slight hint of disgust in her voice.

    "Staff what am I looking at?" asked Private Leads. Before she could answer HM3 Tai cut in, "My God... They did it again..." he said, the awe obvious in his voice. "They went ahead and made a new generation of Spartans.... And they did it just like before the Covies showed up... What the fuck is wrong with these twisted fucks?" he asked Travers.

    "Someone didn't get enough love from mommy and daddy when they were little if I had to take a guess." Travers replied, the sarcasm dripping from the words.

    "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.

    "O'Brien 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.

    "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, he gave a nod, "Go ahead" he said. "I need you to know how to take one of these Spartans down 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, notably cooler than before, "And ONI is our new boss. For the next year we work under them not NAVSPECWAR."

    The team exchanged some shocked glances at the last part.

    "Get it done boys." with that she stood and made her way to the coffee machine to refill her now empty cup, the team behind her slowly dispersing to their quarters to read up and figure out their tasks.
     
    #7 FrostedCaramel, Mar 12, 2016
    Last edited: Mar 12, 2016
  8. He made a motion as if he still had his helmet on as if he were to bring up, but Leo swiftly returned his hand to the table before scoffing slightly to himself. Instead, the officer he motioned he would be right back, grabbing a cup of coffee from the nearby dink dispenser before returning to the table with a sigh. He then thought for a moment, recollecting the information he had been given before speaking up himself. His form was in a relaxed tension, and understandably so. After roughly twenty years of non-stop training and hell, the SPARTAN-Vs had more than earned the right to be relaxed. However, old drills and the instilled desire for professionalism and perfectionism seldom left a SPARTAN of any kind, especially the V's. But, of course, not everyone knew they had ONI creeping down their neck every second of every day.

    "Well, to quote our CO, the Maelstrom's primary mission lies with peacekeeping within and exploration beyond the Outer Colonies into uncharted areas for the next five years. If something goes to hell out there, we'll be sent in to neutralize the situation.

    "As for why the Maelstrom, I have an idea or two. First of all, it's an Infinity-class warship, once specially accommodated for V's. Secondly, Rear Admiral Thompson is a big supporter of our program. Heck, the guy was in the ORION Project. To rephrase, our C.O. is one of the last active SPARTAN-Is in the UNSC Navy. I'm pretty sure that's why, in part, he wants me and some UNSC Marine- I think they were called 'Staff Sergeant Travers'- to meet him in his office for some form of briefing at 1430. Of course, given how large the ship is, I'll need to leave about 1400.

    "AS for combat data, the Maelstrom ruins us through simulations while we perform a wide variety of exercises on the planets we encounter. Besides, we're SPARTANs. Things could be worse."
     
  9. "As for combat data, the Maelstrom ruins us through simulations while we perform a wide variety of exercises on the planets we encounter. Besides, we're SPARTANs. Things could be worse." Leo was responding to Moe's question. "Exercises as in not real combat? Are we not being useless by doing nothing and not putting us in a situation with real consequences. We have been training for this for our whole life" Micheal wasn't very pleased. He understood that they would need assess them but Micheal was itching for dangerous combat. He took his pride in being proficient in killing and thinking on his feet. He took great care of his sniper rifle, often hiding it so others couldn't touch it. He always had a thing about people touching his stuff without permission. It also didn't help that Micheal like to take possession of public things and claim them as his own.

    Micheal had been a bit on edge since getting on the Maelstrom. Not only were there marines on board, Real Admiral Thompson was a Spartan I. The current Spartans were often gawked by regular soldiers but there was often the women who wanted to get with them and the stubborn ones who tried to fight. While Micheal wasn't against getting some action while on board he never liked fighting marines. Almost every time ended in many broken bones for them. Not only did he have enhanced strength like the others, he was able to move around more stealthily and was one of the quicker Spartans. The problem with Admiral Thompson is that he would be watching like a hawk to see how the new gen Spartans compared to his first gen. Although it was nerve wracking he had nothing to really worry about. Micheal took up his empty tray and sat back down to talk with his fellow Spartans.
     
  10. Moe

    Moe leaned back in his seat, letting the last bite of potatoes settle to his stomach before he took a drink of water. He looked to Lucifer, "I mean, we've been training all this time right? What does a few more months of training hurt us? Just one more run through the simulations, one more ruck march, one more twenty kilometer run." he mocked a running motion as he sat, "If anything, we'll just be that much more prepared when the chance finally comes right?". He smiled at his comrade, 'As if we aren't already.' he thought, working hard to keep a carefree look on the outside 'Better not to get him any more worked up than he is now.'

    Travers

    Travers pulled up her contacts list, it was surprising small given her lack of connection to any of the people on the Maelstrom, she requested a link to O'Brien which was quickly answered.

    "What can I do for yah?" came the Scotsman's booming voice through the pad, he was all smiles and curiosity. Like a forty-something year old child.

    "Need you to make sure Tai and Adams get their homework at least started, preferably moving in a productive direction by the time it's lights-out. Seems I've got a meeting with the Captain." she said, a smirk spread across O'Brien's face at the words, "Don't get too excited I'm not being fired. I also can't test my boundaries on this one, we're with ONI right now and he no doubt knows that, although I'm not sure to what extent he knows what they want us to do... He's Navy after all not ONI." Travers suddenly felt a sinking feeling in her gut at her lapse in judgement. "God dammit." she cursed aloud as she peered around her quarters acutely aware of how easily the shipboard AI could have been monitoring everything she had gone over with her team and with O'Brien.

    "Alright well, if he didn't know before.... He probably knows now." she said, the defeat evident in her tone. "Not like we were told to keep it under wraps except to the V's and non-essential personal so this should be alright."

    "Roger that boss" and with that, the connection was cut.

    15 Minutes to 1430

    The Staff Sergeant had been sitting in an almost out of place chair in a small waiting room beside the Captains Office. She was sipping on a coffee that she had managed to... procure... from the secretary who sat across from her.

    As she sat she was going over the information ONI had provided them, which much to her surprise, was almost all of it. The only things she was missing was the individual histories of the SPARTANS before they were.... Tactically Acquired, and a certain part of their augmentations that whenever she tried to open threw so many error codes at her that she had to restart her datapad every time. "Fucking typical" she said as she rebooted the datapad for the sixth time since she got into the waiting room.

    She had been expecting the CO of the new SPARTANs and if she had to guess, he would be there very shortly. Her datapad flashed to life and on it was a clearly visible layout of the new MJOLNIR armor with specs and other statistics neatly layed out, she made no attempt to hide it from anyone that might come in as she continued to read up on her new, 'What do I refer to them as...' she thought.

    "Prey?" she questioned into the room.

    Moe

    Moe stood up and grabbed his tray. He made his way over to the tray deposit line and slipped it onto the conveyor then quickly made his way back to the table. He sat and gave a curious look to Lucifer. "So what you think they got a bunch of Marines here watching us for?" he joked, "They've got to be SPECWAR, otherwise they wouldn't be trusted with us right?" he held both hands with his palms up. 'This could honestly be kind of bad.' something inside him felt off, like his gut was telling him the Marines couldn't be trusted and they hadn't even met them yet.

    "Twenty credits on we end up rescuing them." he said to the table.
     
  11. "I do believe our prey, Staff Sergeant, are renegade Covenant operatives and ancient tech, never mind the various planetoids."

    After the brief exchange of name and greetings between the two, the petty officer second class who acted as the Admiral's secretary ushered them in.

    Read Admiral Upper Half Thompson was a man of taller stature, stranding roughly two meters tall. Wearing the grey dress uniform, and injection site scar on his neck was visible that made Leo cringe as he felt the memories of the pain of his childhood injection return. Regardless, Thompson was an individual with obvious Asian descent, given his light skin tone and almond-shaped eyes. His hairline was mostly grey but still had traces of its original black from a time when he had yet to undergo any augmentations. The commanding officer had a notable amount of muscle mass, the elderly gently still physically capable of fighting on the front lines. At the moment, he seemed to be in some kind of discussion regarding the Maelstrom's status after the slip-space jump with Ramses before the AI disappeared to monitor other systems. Speaking after the pair of lower-ranking personnel rendered a salute an were invited, the admiral began to speak in his sagacious baritone.

    "As you both surely know, the SPARTAN-V Program is under massive scrutiny from the higher-ups on Earth.

    "ONI has seized command of the Staff Sergeant's fireteam to observe you in addition to the civilian handlers you've been assigned, Ensign. ONI has provided her with various information about your documented traits and equipment, as well as modifications to their gear to observe your teams operating habit on the ground. For now, the plan stands that we will hit the surface of the Outer Colony Pathras, one of the mining worlds in this sector. The primary export is aluminum as well as many noble metals, so they are completely reliant on the inner worlds in the system for sustained food supplies given that the planet's surface doesn't react to terraforming and if hazardous to carbon-based life. Otherwise..."

    It was at the moment that a bright red light flashed from the captain's terminal as a slightly troubles Ramses appeared whilst managing various data files as he spoke in a hurried baritone.

    "Admiral, we have a high level emergency. I've already alerted the bridge personnel to adjust course to head to Sector Eight."

    "What's happened, Ramses?"

    "We've received an urgent signal from Research Station Omega Centauri-VII, a research station located on the dwarf planet Iola near Mamore in the Eridanus System. They sent out an emergency broadcast stating that they were under attack, but the audio/video was corrupted when transmitted. As we're the closest vessel to the station without a slip-space jump, it is our responsibility to investigate according to protocol. I'll play what could be recovered of the video message."

    It was then that an image of a scientist in a green jumpsuit and white lab coat appeared on screen, a bald individual of African descent frantically pushing the buttons as he spoke in a hurried bass.

    "To all UNSC Ships, this is First Lieutenant Isaac Crane, Deputy Science Officer at research base Omega Centauri-VII on Iola... the Elite researchers here started going crazy, some of them committed suicide... It might be related to <hissing static>. Ever since Commander McNamara demanded we research that thing, odd things have been going on. I tried to destroy it, but the security systems are on high alert ever since the craziness started. A few days ago, some spacecraft was picked up on our sensors in this part of the planet, but the search parties we sent out couldn't find anything. The... oh god, their breaking in <hissing static followed by gunfire as video feed cuts out and returns>... I can't hold them off for long, and we need help. There's a few of us left, a couple scientists, engineers, and marines. The engineers have it rigged up so we'll be safe for now. All our senior leadership is dead or missing and we can't hold our own! Please, help us!"

    The message then cut down, ending in static. The admiral sneered, looking to the AI. "How long until we get to that station, Ramses?"

    "Roughly four and a half standard hours."

    "Right. Ensign, Staff Sergeant, I want your teams suited up to drop down planetside to accommodate this change-of-plan. We can't risk any spacecraft, so you'll all be performing orbital drops. I want you all in launch bay C-3 within three hours. Now let's move!"

    "Aye, sir!"

    Leo began to scramble back towards the cafeteria and then to the commons room, hopping into his suit and grabbing Athena and plugging her in.

    "SPARTANs, it's time to suit up! There's an emergency situation on the dwarf planet Iola that needs our particular expertise. Once we're suited up and ready to go we'll be meeting up with Rear Admiral Thompson and our companion Marines for briefing and to prepare for orbital drop! SPARTANs, time to move out!"
     
    • Like Like x 1
  12. Micheal didn't speak. He was ready for action and just wanted to start killing. Although it may not be the covenant it sure as hell was confident to be attacking a UNSC vessel. He ran to his locker and grabbed his gear. Micheal had 3 hours until he would be dropping on Iola. Thankfully he had cleaned his guns and sharpened his knife the night before so there wouldn't be any complications with his gear. He put on the black suit and helmet to get in the right mood. He always played music before a mission and after they get noticed by their enemies. Micheal didn't have a real preference in genre but today seemed like a death metal day. He made sure he was ready and there way before the 3 hour mark. He was extremely anxious and just wanted to get in the battle. Many times he would get anxiety but all of that falls away when you're fighting for your life.

    Micheal grabbed his sniper and put his assault rifle on his back. Sadly he kept the regular rifle but he would be looking out for his favorite BR. He just waited and listened to his music while waiting for the others to get ready and be briefed by the Rear Admiral Thompson. Oh and they needed to wait for the marines on board... "Fuckin marines" he thought to himself. He wasn't a fan of the regular army during times like these where SPARTANs do most of the work while they just get in the way and require saving all of the damn time. They had to be there so he would keep this mouth shut while waiting for everyone else.
     
  13. Moe

    Moe fidgeted with his assault rifle for a moment before placing it on his back. Helmet in hand in he made his way over to Lucifer, who seemed to be waiting just like the rest of them. "Yo-" Moe started before stopping as he noticed the ODSTs enter the launch bay, there were five of them all kitted up and ready to go, weapons in hand and nonchalant looks upon their faces. 'They're not even anxious' he thought as he began to notice the scarring and indents scattered across their armor. Suddenly Moes' MJOLNIR armor seemed much more new, and glistened with inexperience.

    He turned back toward Lucifer, "...So those ODSTs... They're coming with us I take it." he paused before continuing, "They look pretty hardened, think they'll be of any use?" he asked, fully aware of the answer he was going to receive.

    Travers


    Shortly after the Brief


    Travers was speed walking down the long corridors of the Maelstrom as she pulled up her datapad and quickly opened a comm line to her team, they all accepted the request in seconds. "I hope you all got a little done on those... Projects... I gave you earlier because we may need them. Hard drop in just under three hours, be in Launch Bay C-3 in two hours." she stopped to catch her breath and allow a heavy lift mech to cross the corridor, "And don't forget anything, the pods are one way as always." she gave a devilish wink and cut the connection.

    Two Hours Later

    The team sauntered into the launch bay, rows upon rows of drop pods dangled in their individual holders and all round were the SPARTAN V's. Travers held her helmet against her side, the tell tale silver of her armor the only thing that made her distinguishable from anyone else in her team. On the other hand, it seemed that the new SPARTANs had spared no expanse on decadence, many with their own variations to the armor and the majority were ornately colored to the wearers liking if she had to guess.

    "Alright, our pods are the last five on the right. Don't start anything with the SPARTANs. Just keep to our corner for now copy?" she received a jumble of half-sarcastic copies as the team made their way to the other end of the room, she could practically feel the teams eyes rolling in their sockets as they passed the super soldiers by.

    O'Brien, a few feet ahead of Travers tapped his head and put on his helmet. Travers got the message and put her helmet on as the rest of the team did the same. She chinned on her radio, "What is it O'Brien?" she asked of the Martian.

    "Button up yer helmet, yeah? Don't want none of these super humans hearing us." his voice came through. She chinned another button in her helmet and the visor went from see-through to the telltale black of the ODST, there was a slight hiss as her helmet sealed and then she spoke "Spit it out already, we've only got... Less than an hour." she said as she eyed her watch.

    "Anybody else ere getting the feeling that they don't like us? And I mean, really don't like us." O'Brien said as he came to a stop at his pod.

    "Since day-fucking-one Sergeant" came Tai's voice, "They're a bunch of hot-shot super humans itching for a chance to prove themselves, and they've got us! A team of un-augmented ODSTs keeping an eye on them. If anything I'd think they're so humiliated that they've turned to hating us in place of it." he said as Leads and Adams nodded their closed fists in agreement. The indignation was so strong in Tai's voice Travers could almost taste it.

    "I get the feeling too, maybe they won't look down on us once the lead starts flying. Otherwise, shut the fuck up, and don't give these sociopaths any sort of a look they can interpret as a threat." she said as she threw her arms up in defeat. She slouched into her pod and removed her helmet, resigning to wait until the Rear Admiral arrived for their final mission brief.

    Around her the team followed suit, getting what shut eye they could while they were still sure they'd be able.
     
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.