August 28th 2528
Battle Group X-Ray
UNSC "EVEREST" ///Valiant Class Super-Heavy Cruiser///
In orbit above HARVEST
(Private First Class Wallace Jenkins Pov)
Cough
Cough
Cough
"God, I can never get used to that stuff," I spat out as I rocked forward in the upright position of my cryo pod. I looked to the side before putting a finger to close each nostril, exhaling to shoot the snot and cryogenic fluid mixture out of my sinus cavity.
"Bluck, nasty shit," I muttered as I rubbed my eyes, adjusting them to the new light.
"Hey, Rookie," a voice to my side slapped me on the back. Glancing up, I recognized the sight.
"Corporal!" I snapped upright into a salute at attention.
The man beside me sighed as he ran a hand through his brown hair. He was only a few years older than me, but he was already considered a veteran by the rest in the 75th Shock Trooper Division.
As he exhaled, he shook his head, "Fucking new guys," he muttered under his breath before looking back up at me.
"Listen, we are short on time. You gotta get your kit, so walk with me while I fill you in," he said before heading toward the exit to the cryo bay.
I scrambled to catch up to him. "What do you mean I am late?" I nearly shouted, "Sir?" I added forgetting the word that ended every sentence in training.
'First damn mission, and I'm late for it,' I couldn't believe my luck.
"Drop the sir, shit," he said, swatting his hand, "But to answer your question? Blame the jackasses behind those consoles in the ice bath. They got everyone else up but you. Something to do with how fresh your assignment was, I think," he said, speaking as if he were discussing the weather.
Bzz
"Damn, those idiots," the Corporal glanced down at his tac pad on the wrist of his ODST BDU. He tapped on it as if he were trying to jab his finger through the screen.
He stopped in his tracks and turned, "Look, rookie, I gotta go stop Dante and Mendez from doing something stupid." he paused and pointed his thumb behind him, "Go to sub-section eight on level 12, and there you'll find our barracks/armory. Grab the usual, and make sure you stay suppressed. The word is that this is going to be one of those Hush Hush missions. When you're done with that, come to the briefing room on level 19, but don't be late."
The Corporal stressed the last point, "Apparently Admiral Cole himself is going to be briefing us on this mission, and according to some of the staff we managed to sweet talk, we will be accompanying someone."
"Any idea who?" I couldn't help but ask. I really was hoping it wasn't a bunch of civilians. I didn't join the UNSC to be a babysitter, and I cringed thinking about how the Sergeant felt during Harvest.
He shrugged, "Beats me, I can't think of anything better than us right off the top of my head, so don't get your hopes up." With that, he stomped off, probably to go knock some heads.
"Wouldn't wanna be them," I mumbled to myself before turning back around.
"Now, where was that elevator?"
…..
….
…
..
.
*clatter*
"Damn it," I grumbled as I accidentally dropped my M6 SOCOM for what felt like the fifth time. Bending down, I picked up the handgun and carefully placed it into my thigh holster.
Standing back up, I grabbed the thick exosuit's material around my shoulder and pulled on it to alleviate the tightness squeezing my shoulder.
"...heard the admiral is bringing in the Yellow Jackets"
"....looks like it"
I glanced ahead, seeing two naval crewmen walking towards me, carrying on a conversation. The Yellow Jackets they referred to were my group, the ODSTs with yellow accents to look the part. We were similar to the Bull Frogs as we weren't exactly a formal division or regiment, but instead we were more like a type of ODST. Like Bull Frogs, we excelled in jump-jet pack usage… but our tactics were a bit different.
"...I swear they were giants like 10 feet tall or something"
"...nah that's bull shit, and you know it"
"...pack of smokes says otherwise, and the best part is I got a name"
I paused in my tracks as the pair passed by me. I overheard the conversation and couldn't help but anticipate what would be said next.
"...Spartans"
The pair turned down a corridor, and their conversation ended.
'Spartans,' the name didn't ring any bells, but it sounded cool, I guess. Maybe it was a new thing that came out during my training, who knows?
"Why do you have your head in the clouds, Wally?" a voice from beside me said.
I sighed, "Hey, don't call me that. Only my Mom and Dad were allowed to call me tha-" the rest of the sentence died in my throat as I recognized the person.
"Sarge!?" I nearly shouted as I grabbed the dark-skinned man to make sure he was real.
"In the flesh," he smirked with his tell-tale cigar in the other corner of his mouth. I almost couldn't believe my eyes; it was Staff Sergeant Johnson. Under one arm was an ODST helmet, while he was covered in the typical battle dress for ODSTs.
"How've you been, Wally?" he asked as we naturally began to walk in pace.
"I-uh have been fine, Sarge. What about you- wait, why are you wearing shock trooper armor?" My mind was in overdrive from the surprise, but I couldn't help but snap to the point of his uniform.
He flopped his hand side to side to give me an iffy gesture, "It's complicated, but let's say that I am tagging along with you hell jumpers for this trip."
I felt like I had hit the lottery hearing that, "That's great! With you, the Covenant stands no chance," even now I remembered him gunning down the aliens during our escape from my home planet.
He chuckled before his eyes and tone got a bit mysterious, "If you think having me on board is a treat. Then you're in for a real surprise."
'Probably something to do with ONI,' I guessed, 'I heard he got hitched to that ONI officer from Harvest. Wonder how that's going,'
I considered asking, but shook my head, 'Way too personal, besides, I bet he couldn't say anything. One of those "I'd have to kill you if I told you" type things'
All the while, I was thinking the Sergeant was watching, and with a look on my expression when I thought about him having a wife, he chuckled, pulling out his cigar and flicking some ash to the side of our path before taking another puff.
"What's got you so serious, cadet?" Unknowingly, he slipped back into calling me a name from the days of militia training.
I bumped his arm, "I'm not a cadet anymore, Sarge," I said before proudly slapping my chest, "You are looking at a Private First Class of the United Nations' Space Command Marine Corps."
He snorted, "A grunt's still a grunt, private," he mocked the last word.
I opened my mouth to retort but closed it. I had nothing.
"Whatever, still it's good to see you again, Sarge," I said with gratitude, "I mean honestly, what could be better than having you around?"
He smiled, "Flattery will get you nowhere, Wally, though I'd rather hear that than listen to my mother-in-law."
I laughed, "I heard that."
We passed through another set of automatic doors, boarding an elevator. It was empty besides us.
The man beside me glanced at the BR55-S strapped to my back. "It feels like just yesterday I was giving you that because you were the best shot in the militia," he said, nodding at the weapon.
"Well, best shot besides me," he added, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
There was a small lull in our conversation before he spoke again, "I won't lie, I didn't expect to end up back on Harvest again."
"Bad memories?" I asked
He shrugged, "Some good, some bad. Like most things." It didn't seem like he wanted to talk much about it, and I knew better than to press.
"So this 'asset' we are working with, who is it? Scientist? High Com member?" I asked
Johnson smirked before shrugging, "Maybe."
"ONI?"
"Maybe"
"Fleet Com member?"
"Maybe"
I groaned, "You're not being very helpful."
He shrugged once again, "Wasn't trying to be."
…..
….
…
..
.
As we made our way through the labyrinth of a ship, there was an increasing amount of activity. Pilots headed toward various hangars and training simulators while naval crew members effectively inhabited the halls like they were members of a beehive. We didn't run into any more ODSTs, which was to be expected; only a small contingent of roughly a platoon of Yellow Jackets was dispatched for whatever we were about to engage in.
When we entered the home stretch, we were finally greeted by a pack of miscellaneous personnel headed in the same direction. This time, there were a couple of ODSTs moving to not be late, along with a few other additional air force pilots and technical staff. It seemed everyone was trying their best not to be late to a meeting personally led by the admiral.
Stepping into the briefing room, both the staff sergeant and I paused, looking at a crowded room. It was loud enough that I could nearly hear it through the sound-restrictive siding that blocked the hallway from listening in.
I whistled, "You'd think the brass would be handing out free drinks."
Johnson smiled, "Wally, if that were the case, then I would be first in line."
We found a corner to hole up in as neither of us was particularly close to anyone else in the room. Though for everyone else, that was not the case. Jokes, arguments, and complaints filled the air, making the atmosphere lively.
I glanced down at my wrist to check the time, 'Five mikes till briefing," I thought as out of my periphery I heard the alternate door hiss open.
I sensed Johnson to my left straighten slightly. At the same time, the sound of talking died down until the room was completely silent.
"Huh," I let out audibly before turning my head and stopping in place as my breath hitched.
Standing in the doorway, at what felt like 10 feet tall, was a group of five heavily armored… things. They were painted in army green with what appeared to be a black undersuit.
The lead figure slowly swept his gaze across the room before glancing over his shoulder at the others behind him.
"As you were," he voiced.
In shock, I turned back to Johnson, he smirked, dropping his cigar onto the ground before smothering it with his boot.
"Told you,"