Unexpected Reunion

Holo-Log Entry 13119

Date - August 24, 2557

So, I figured I should probably keep this thing up to date a tiny bit. I think my last entry was well over two months ago. Anyway, today was a pretty mundane kind of day. Spent most of it sorting supplies for the armory, MA5s there, some crates of grenades over there. At about fourteen hundred hours, I got a call to go to the main hangar on the ship, so, all thirteen hundred and fifty armored pounds of me lumbered towards the hanger. ODSTs, Marines, technicians, you name then, they ran through the halls. This was far more activity than there had been in the past two weeks.

Did I think anything of it? Nope, why would I, it was probably a supply shipment anyway. So, I came strolling into the hangar, minding my feet as always since last time this happened; my big feet left some poor Army guy in the medbay for a month. There I was, when I noticed a Pelican had landed, and everyone had surrounded it. “Oh great, more dead” I thought to myself, not a radical assumption given that’s what every ship had been full of so far. Well, save for that one with the crates of weapons.

From my lofty view point, I watched as some ONI agents wandered off. Some of their uniforms had charred patches on them. Great, more ONI guys to wander around the ship and nearly get under my feet. However, heavy, metallic footsteps reached my ears, to me, it sounded like the footsteps of a Spartan. Figuring it was another Spartan Four walking their ‘I’m so special’ self off the ship, I didn’t bother sticking around. Turning to walk out, a voice said,

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I paused, the voice was really familiar, it had the slight, biting sarcasm of a fellow S-II. I glanced over one shoulder, but that was not a clean of sight. That flak shield was in my face so I twisted around...and nearly dropped my jaw on the floor. Dusty purple armor, with an EOD collar on his chest and a robotic arm, wearing an EOD helmet. On his back? A modified M45 tactical shotgun was on his back. First thing I said was,

"Wiatwat?!"

He looked at me, from across the hangar, the EOD helmet staring at me,

“What? Little brother, you really, really thought I was dead?”

I choked on my words for a good minute or two, before getting enough air in my lungs to talk again,

“Talon?!”

He sighed, again,

“No shit.”

In the span of a few seconds. I had crossed the hangar and tackled him, that part was a total miscalculation by the way. Talon spat a few curses at me, clearly I had not lost my touch with greetings.

“Get. Off!” He growled as I got to my feet to let him breathe again. With a grunt, he sat up,

“Little brother...It’s good to see that teal armor, thought I’d never see you again.”

“Thanks Talon...after than mess on New Jerusalem, I thought I’d lost you.”

As he got to his feet, Talon grumbled a bit,

“Ha. I thought I lost you. I saw that fiery mess of a Pelican crash; thought you’d died in that.”

I shrugged,

“Eh, I’m not an easy guy to kill, what can I say? Built like a tank and just as survivable too!”

He punched me in the shoulder, Talon’s way of saying ‘you big goof’. I barely moved from that punch as I watched Talon flex his organic hand, to make sure it wasn’t broken.

“Damn...forgot that was like punching a Scorpion…”

With a raucous laugh, I forgot how much I missed my big brother. Once I was done laughing, I quipped,

“Well, next time, use your right hand.”

Talon glared at me, even with his helmet on, I knew he was annoyed,

“Smartass.”

The sarcasm, that was the thing I missed the most. Talon never gave two fucks if I am the biggest and strongest Spartan II that ever existed. Instead, he cares about me as his little brother, though we’re not remotely related. Talon was born on Harvest, me? I’m from Eridanus Secundus, yet we’re still pretty much brothers. In the midst of all of my excitement, I failed to notice Talon shoved a box in my hands and cleared his throat,

“Al, I got you something.”

That was when I realized there was a box in my hands, delayed reaction much? After asking if I could open the box, I began to cut it open, and inside of the box, was a new teal USNC hoodie! I stared in shock at it,

“How did you know I needed a new one?”

Talon motioned to a third Spartan, who I didn’t see before. She was wearing ANUBIS armor, leaning against a Warthog. Normally, I never thought about having more of a family beyond the first team I ever had, and Talon of course. But now, I realized my tiny family was bigger than I thought, it was me, Talon and the Spartan who, I really didn’t remember the name of, but she seemed familiar.

So, I spent the rest of my day hanging out my big brother. We talked a lot, ‘bout the war, how it ended, and the crazy shit we had done to survive various things. No matter what you might hear about us in the media, Spartans have families. Maybe not how you’re used to thinking of them, but we have brothers and sisters, and the occasional chaos of a family this size. Sure, we don’t all see eye to eye, even metaphorically, but that just comes with being a family of soldiers who all have ideas on how to better kick enemy butt, y’know?

End of Entry.