Halo: Minorca Saga/Chapter One

UNSC AENEAS, ALPHA CANIS MINORIS SYSTEM, MARCH 20TH, 2551 (MILITARY CALENDAR) 

The Naval Personnel in the small hallway ducked towards the sides, petrified at the three titans marching down the hall, heads up, chests out, each foot fall making the sound of thunder. Standing upwards of six feet, eight inches, the trio were an intimidating force, indeed, all were graduates of a top secret Office of Naval Intelligence program designated SPARTAN-II. The shortest, apparently the leader, marched in front, the constant jingling of his numerous medals, awarded mainly for heroism, filling the hallways with sounds, not unlike those of Christmas. His dark skin tone, coupled with his dead set eyes displayed the mood of the entire group – they obviously weren’t very happy about something – and whatever it was, it was big. Behind him marched the other two, the one on his left being a rather attractive female, if it weren’t for her body-builder like body, the one on his right a light-skinned male, sporting a hair cut that was no doubt longer than what the regulations permitted. After navigating numerous corridors, the team stopped at a door, and they all read the plate that was posted beside it:

LIEUTENANT COMMANDER MICHAEL POMARE OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE, SECTION THREE 

SPARTAN-002 knocked three times on the door, and after hearing a “enter” stepped into the comfortably decorated room, the center piece of which was an oak table, decorated with various trinkets from former Colony Worlds, long turned into smoldering spheres of glass by the Covenant. Off to one side were bookshelves stocked with various texts, one titled A Soldier’s Tale: The Rainforest Wars, a book written four-hundred years before hand, still popular among officers and senior enlisted. SPARTAN-002, quickly remembering protocol and procedure, stepped about three feet away from the desk, and snapped a crisp salute, his hand forming what would have been a blade, if it had been metal. The other two SPARTANs did so as well, turning the “introductions” over to their leader.

“Sir, United Nations Space Command Special Operations Detachment: SPARTAN, Azure Team, reporting for duty” shouted out 002, nearly out of breath from reciting the lengthy name of their unit.

The man behind the desk stood to attention, wearing the standard UNSC officer uniform, which was a grey two-piece suit created with woven nanofibers, providing less, but still, protection, against ballistic threats. The man returned a salute, and ordered the SPARTAN detachment to take their seats, which they all did, quickly and quietly.

Michael Pomare noticed the expressions on their faces, the “nakedness” they had felt from being out of their MJOLNIR Mk. IV suits, which they normally wore, even when not in combat, as it heightened the mystique and legend behind the entire SPARTAN unit. Developed in the 2400s, the prototypes of the armored suits were large and bulky exoskeletons, powered by large fusion reactors. The real miracle would come when Doctor Catherine Halsey, the creator of the SPARTAN-II Program, began a massive re-design of the exoskeletons, plugging the suit into the wearer’s neural interface, as well as using liquid crystal to provide locomotion. These technological advancements allowed the MJOLNIR project to reach its full potential, and it became standard issue for all SPARTAN-IIs. The strange thing, which still bugged Pomare, was the fact that the suits could not be worn by normal Humans, and if they were, said Human would entire a series of rapid and violent convulsions, which would always result in death.

If only these suits could be issued to every Marine… this war would be different.

He shook his head, turning his attention to the matter at hand: what to do with “his” SPARTAN team.

“Alright, gentlemen and lady. I’ve called you all here to begin the briefing on Operation: HOT GATES, my brainchild and now, my operation. Yes, although you can see various Admirals and officers running around, I am the one in command. You have been called here to provide support to the ground forces, as well as to strike at the heart of the Covenant, operating behind their lines to envelop and destroy them. Just what your specialty is, right?

Jamal, officially known as SPARTAN-002, looked over at Gabriel-019, who had looked back at him. Jamal knew that look before, and even he had had it more than a few times.

Time to kick some serious Covenant ass.

Gabriel flashed a smile at Jamal and Helen, and then, they all turned their attention back to the Lieutenant Commander. Jamal, personally, could not figure out the commander; not gaining a clear assessment on his goals, his personality, his attitudes, and what he had done. All he really knew was that this man had somehow developed and proposed this entire operation, and had somehow gained enough favor with High Command to receive this massive amount of military might and machinery.

“Sir, permission to speak freely?”

“Proceed.”

“Well, sir, how exactly are you thinking about deploying me and my team behind enemy lines? We don’t have our trademark Corvette… that’s at Reach being repaired, nor do we have any prowler that can effectively deploy us close enough to the Covenant fleet to ambush them.”

“Good question, Jamal. Well, here’s the simple answer: We brought along a freighter with us. Outfitted with stealth technology, noise baffles, everything and anything you could imagine. That’s going to become your new home for the good part of this engagement.”

“Well, sir, what weapons will we have, and where is our armor?”

“Your armor and your weaponry are already on the freighter. My men believe that they did a good job arranging everything within; the cargo bay is filled with supplies, as well as ordnance, nuclear, if you wish, the cockpit has been outfitted with the most advanced technologies we can give, the slip space drives have been upgraded, and we’ve even included an Artificial Intelligence… I’m sure you all will get along fine. Let’s hope this mission turns out the way I planned it… or else all of this would be for nothing”

Jamal, his questions answered, and believing the session to be over, saluted his new commanding officer, his two teammates doing the same, and Jamal watched as Pomare returned the salute. Jamal dropped his after Pomare did, executed a sharp about face, and then walked towards the shuttle bay, taking off his jacket while he was at it. After reaching the bay, Jamal saw their heavily modified “light” freighter, deemed so by how much it could carry in terms of tonnage, and boarded it, immediately finding his suit of armor. After Jamal put it on, of course, with the help of more than a few ONI techs, he checked out the customized systems on his armor (which he had requested), and, not feeling as naked as he had before, ordered Gabriel to take them away from the Carrier, and into a position in the asteroid belt, awaiting confirmation that a Covenant fleet had appeared in system. Until then, however, he rested in his reinforced chair, and right as soon as he was about to go to sleep, he heard a female voice enter his communications channel. It was their new AI companion, named Natasha.

The holo-projector glowed a faint purple and blue, and suddenly, Natasha appeared, manifesting herself in the form of a female, with a voluptuous body and a cute face. If she wasn’t who she was, an Artificial Intelligence, Jamal would’ve instantly begun to hit on her, but didn’t, and their new companion began to speak.

“Why does the Office of Naval Intelligence make all of their female AI’s naked? I mean… do they not think that we have some sort of dignity?”

Jamal looked over at Gabriel and Helen, then looked back to their AI.

“I think it has something to do with a horny ONI officer, but that’s just my speculation.”

The AI’s color began to change from a blue to a red, and back again, as her core matracies heated up and cooled, signifying emotion. After composing herself, she began her introduction:

“My name is MIL-AI 9881-32, also known as Natasha. I will be your AI for this operation, serving as…”

Jamal cut her off forcefully, rubbing his eyes during the constant speech that was given by all AIs.

“We know what you guys do, alright. We’ve been through this spiel about twenty thousand times already. Sorry for any hostility, but we need to get this piece of junk out to the asteroid belt and stealth it.”

Her matrices heated again, and she turned red. After a pause, she calmed down, refocusing herself on the mission ahead.

“Alright. But, since I don’t know you guys, may you give me a small introduction?”

Jamal looked at his team, and began speaking.

“On my right is Gabriel, known to the UNSC as SPARTAN-019. On my left is Helen, known as SPARTAN-130. And, I am Jamal, SPARTAN-002. Together, we form Azure Team.”

“Hm… you guys seem to have a reputation… the “Grey Team of Class II?”

The three chuckled at that moniker, knowing full well that they could never be as good as Grey Team. Instead of replying, the three turned towards the gigantic computerized visor, displaying the vast wonders of space.

“Natasha, here’s your first directive. Initiate slip space jump to just behind the asteroid belt, and after you move us into position, shut down our engines, turn on our active camouflage… we run dark, understood?”

“Yes, Senior Chief.”

Natasha initiated the jump, and the Freighter disappeared in a flash of bright, blue light.