Rookie

1422 HOURS, AUGUST 2, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR)/ BETA HYDRI SYSTEM, IN ORBIT OVER BETA HYDRI VII, UNSC PATER NOSTER

If there was one thing Rachel had learned since joining Spartan Branch, it was that there is nothing sweeter than completely dominating SPARTAN-IVs in "War Games" exercises. Especially if the other contestants teamed up near the endgame in a desperate attempt to deny her the victory she deserved. Seeing the disappointment and frustration on their faces – in contrast to the smug grins they would always sport before the exercise, convinced that they had devised a perfect scheme to put the upstart ARES-class SPARTAN-II in her place – was well worth the extra effort.

Or it would be, if she wasn’t running out of ammo.

Rachel leapt into cover behind a large piece of starship debris, barely avoiding a second salvo of assault rifle fire from Spartans Nielsen and Chahal. As some of the bullets struck the ground, small clouds of dust billowed up, temporarily distorting Rachel’s vision. She could still clearly see the information displayed on her HUD, however - including the ammo counter, which currently listed three cartridges in her shotgun. Which was slightly better than the situation with her second weapon; she only had one round left in her M6H sidearm. Plus a single frag grenade.

Not exactly a winning combo.

It was her fault, really. She had decided to let the pair have a few free kills to make things more challenging before she started fighting seriously. But she had not quite accounted for a fourth participant, Tenzo Kururugi (the marksman of Fireteam Coal), to join the simulation mid-session, and – like always – resort to his favorite tactic of camping just out of radar range, killing everyone while they fought each other. So naturally, it had been an uphill battle for her. Still, she now only needed two more kills to win.

But so did Kururugi.

Rachel stole a quick glance at her pursuers – who were most definitely advancing, though slowly and taking cover out of fear of getting headshot by Kururugi – and then sprinted up an adjacent hill. As she heard bullets whizzing past her, she engaged her thruster pack for the last push up to the top. She rolled behind several bright purple containers and listened as a few bullets impacted with the Covenant metal before the two assault rifles stopped firing again.

The map was not the best suited to her talents, either. Derived from the crash site of a ship belonging to the Storm Covenant in 2555, there was much debris strewn about, but most of it worthless as cover. The planet the ship had crashed on, known to astrologists as Eta Coronae Borealis IV, had a thin atmosphere and a surface covered in a fine, dusty type of sand. In other words – it was easy to create large clouds to ruin one’s line of sight, making close quarters combat more difficult. While there was sufficient cover if one knew where to look, there were also large stretches of open area, meaning as soon as one ran out of cover to hide behind, one would be wide open to marksmen.

The red-headed Spartan cursed as she struggled to come up with a plan to turn the tables around. Perhaps I could sneak up on Kururugi, shank him, and then snipe one of the other two with his weapons...no, there’s too much open space, even those two would notice...

She peeked out from behind the container, just in time to watch Nielsen and Chahal entering cover within the ruins of a methane suite. If I charge those idiots, Kururugi will just snipe all of us, pretty much allowing him to win...but maybe if I created a dust cloud- no! The fucker always has Promethean Vision on this map, so he’d see through that...

She grunted in frustration, but forced herself to once again go over the terrain and her equipment in her head while watching the steady progress of her foes. ''I can’t engage the moron duo without giving Kururugi an opening, and I can’t engage him without getting shanked by the moron duo. So...I need to draw Kururugi into the open and take him down somehow before he beats Nielsen and Chahal, while at the same time keeping the latter two distracted so they don’t shoot me, which would be best accomplished by getting Kururugi to fight them...''

Rachel turned to observe her pursuers one more time, barely making out their figures edging along a sand dune to her left, and – to her surprise, movement on a walkway several yards behind, which could only be Kururugi.

And with that, everything came together for her.

The redhead primed her grenade and lobbed it in the duo’s direction – or rather, a little to their left, but close enough for them to mistake her intent. They leapt over the sand dune just before the frag detonated – creating a massive cloud of sand all around them, leaving them invisible even to Rachel. Still, she waited for Kururugi’s move. Her heart beat a little faster with every fraction of a second passing with nothing happening, suspicion that her plan had failed heightening right along with it.

And then, in the distance, Kururugi leapt off the walkway and onto the clouded sand dune, DMR raised high – realizing that he could not snipe the two other SPARTAN-IVs from behind the sand dune, but also tempted by the opportunity for a surprise attack granted by the dust cloud.

That was also when Rachel leapt into action. She charged down the hill towards the cloud, which had now begun to dissipate to the point that she could make out the contours of her three foes – one of whom was attacking another from behind with a combat knife, downing him in two seconds flat. Meanwhile, Rachel raised her shotgun and – just when she could make out the visor on Chahal’s helmet and her readied assault rifle pointing in Rachel’s direction – fired. The shot struck the ex-Army Spec Ops point-blank, but still only succeeded in lowering the latter’s shields.

To her right, Kururugi turned to fire at Rachel. As the DMR’s bullets were deflected by her shield, Rachel fired once more at the back-pedaling Chahal, finally taking her down.

Rachel quickly wheeled around and rushed towards Kururugi – his shots still bouncing off her shields, but they were reaching critical levels, and the SPARTAN-IV was still out of her shotgun’s lethal range. As time seemed to slow down, the two met each other’s glances, both fully aware that the one who would make the next kill would win the match.

When the ex-Black ops assassin adjusted his aim to Rachel’s head for the killing shot – but a split-second before he pulled the trigger – the ARES candidate activated her thruster pack. She boosted at full speed and head first into Kururugi’s midsection. A loud, banging noise was made when helmet connected with harness, but Rachel barely noticed as searing pain shot through her head from the act. Nonetheless, she forced herself to look up, raise her shotgun, and fire the last cartridge at her opponent – who had fallen onto his back, DMR flying through the air and away from both of them.

He did not stop moving, however, so Rachel dropped her empty shotgun and drew her pistol. Behind the visor of her MJOLNIR Raider-variant helmet, she smiled with satisfaction as she pulled the trigger. The shot connected with the SPARTAN-IV’s visor, finally triggering the suit’s “death” reaction, ceasing all his movements.

With that, the “Game over” message flashed across Rachel’s HUD, and a soft, humming sound was heard as the hard-light map dissipated, leaving only the vast and open simulation chamber. The walls, floor and ceiling alike was covered in reflective black plating with lights in-between. Beneath her, Kururugi got up in silence while removing his helmet – revealing the face of a heavily-scarred man, probably in early to mid-forties. His scalp was bare and other than his scars, his face was smooth – clearly indicating that he was recently-shaved.

Once on his feet, he mumbled a quick "Congratulations" in Rachel’s direction before heading towards the exit. His tone suggested he had wanted to say something far cruder and less politically correct.

A few yards away, Nielsen and Chahal had also gotten up and removed their helmets. Nielsen wiped away sweat from his forehead with one hand, brushing away a few strands of light brown hair in the process. He overall had a harsh appearance – pale skin, small and slightly pointed ears, a hooked nose and thin, dry-looking lips – which contributed to making him look ten years older than his actual thirty-two. Chahal, by contrast, looked more accurate for her age (thirty-one), with her short, cropped black hair and only slightly wrinkled, brown skin. But one thing they had in common was their mutual look of disappointment.

"Looks like you fail yet again." Rachel told them, still smiling impishly. Watching them desperately hold back the scathing remarks they no doubt wanted to hurl her way in response only added to her enjoyment of the current situation.

"Maybe" Nielsen conceded. "But you must admit we were close this time."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because I let you kill me enough times to give you an advantage, genius."

"Resorting to lying to preserve your dignity, are you?" Chahal asked smugly. Nielsen chided in with a smile in response – it did not look good on him. Another reason Rachel enjoyed beating him; it kept him from constantly wearing an ugly, unnerving smile on his face.

"You really couldn’t tell I was holding back? You’re even more hopeless than I thought."

"You don’t say?" Nielsen inquired, clenching his fist. "Would you like to say that when we’ve got the rest of Fireteam Marble here?" Both of them glared threateningly at the younger Spartan.

Rachel gave them a defiant glare in return. "Why not? I’ve crushed you two easily half a dozen times already. I think I can take your whole team without any trouble." She intensified the glare, and to her delight saw Nielsen’s smug expression waver slightly.

"I guess we’ll see about that." Nielsen tried to restore his smile, but as Rachel continued to glare at him intently it remained unsure. He quickly gestured at Chahal, and they both proceeded to march out of the chamber – leaving Rachel alone to bask in her victory.

Which was quickly cut short she heard her helmet COM buzzing. She glanced at the blinking message on her HUD, showing “Ember One” in bold, blue font. Connor

"What’s up, fearless leader?" She replied, though she already knew what he wanted – and no doubt he knew that. It was just another case of Rachel toying with him. Growing up in the ARES Project together, but in separate teams, neither had learned to work together without hassle yet. She had still convinced Connor to join her in Spartan Branch though, so she assumed there was some sense of mutual respect, at least.

"The transports are here" Connor-338’s voice echoed through her ears. "So get to the hangar – we should meet the new guy as soon as possible."

Right – the new guy.

She had not looked forward to this in the slightest.

Their team – Fireteam Ember – had so far only consisted of non-SPARTAN-IV – and their track record reflected that. Contrary to what the media told the populace about SPARTAN-IV being the pinnacle of supersoldier development, SPARTAN-IIs like Rachel and Connor, and SPARTAN-IIIs like Scott-G145, Maya-G257 and Jason-G013 had produced greater results than any of the other Spartan teams on the Pater Noster.

Granted, when the competition consists of people like Nielsen, Chahal and Kururugi, that doesn’t really indicate anything.

Naturally, Scott – the previous leader of Ember – had gotten himself scorched so badly by plasma bombardment from a Jiralhanae gunship that he was now drifting between life and death (with amputated legs, to boot) on a medical station in orbit above Beta Hydri VI, and the Spartan brass decided that they needed to remain a five-man squad – and thus, they needed a replacement, at least until Scott recovered. Even though the four of them – once Connor took charge of the situation after Scott’s incapacitation – had still managed to assassinate the Zaul Alpha Tribe chieftains (without backup), and thereby ended the tribe’s resistance towards the Jiralhanae Alliance and their raids on human commerce vessels.

So, they were going to get a SPARTAN-IV. And not a veteran, either – a rookie just out of augmentation and rushed to Beta Hydri from Sol just two weeks ago.

That did not speak well regarding Ember’s future effectiveness, Rachel had decided as soon as she had heard the news. But the brass didn’t care. Evidently, numbers were more important than effectiveness to some people. ''Or perhaps they figure we could teach him a thing or to? Babysit him, so they don’t have to?''

"Fine, I’m on my way. Looking forward to it." Her tone betrayed the true meaning of her words, but Connor said nothing in response. As she marched down the corridor towards the hangar bay, she removed her helmet and drew a lighter out of her belt with her other hand. She unconsciously flipped it on and on as she waltzed.

Well, here we go, I guess.

Spartan Recruit Mario Esteves Azevedo was desperately trying to keep his heavily beating heart in check as he stepped off the troop transport and into the hangar bay of the Valkyrie-class Carrier Pater Noster. He was about to embark on a whole new stage of his short career. One that he hoped he would not mess up by acting like a buffoon.

He was about to become a Spartan for real.

He had already undergone the various stages of augmentation procedures and in-suit training, but it had always been stressed by his instructors at “Spartan Camp” that a Spartan was not a proper Spartan until he had met up with his team.

His team was not just any team, either, but a team of crack Spartan veterans from the Great War – as in, they were Spartans before everyone with spec ops experience could become Spartans. It was said one of them could best at least four SPARTAN-IVs in single combat with one hand tied behind their back and both legs broken. They were living war machines, meant to fight, and forged through the fires of war to destroy the United Nations Space Command’s enemies until they had to climb over the corpses to move forward.

And Mario Esteves Azevedo had been deemed worthy of joining this team. A fisherman’s son from a backwards village on the coast of Caxias, Mars, with only a couple years of active service in the UNSC Marine Corps, and having completed the ODST training program only a short time before enlisting with the Spartan Branch, was considered worthy of fighting alongside the squad known as Fireteam Ember.

Or, technically, he was only a replacement, at least for the moment. Ember’s team leader had reportedly suffered major injuries in the line of duty and would require months, if not a year, to recover. But if he did well on this assignment, the merit could quite possibly be enough to let him command his own team of Spartans by the time Ember’s injured commander returned. And long afterwards, he would still be known as the man that was considered an equal of SPARTAN-IIIs and IIs. Assuming he did not mess up the opportunity and prove a disappointment, not just to Ember, but to the Spartan brass – in which case his career could easily go down the toilet.

''Come on, Mario. No need to feel pressure. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing the last few weeks – it impressed the Spartan brass, didn’t it? You received top grades on the shooting range, you ranked in the top five during all the final war games simulations, and you passed the in-suit post-augment exercises with flying colors. Nothing to worry about...''

Around him, many other newly graduated recruits were moving into the hangar bay, occasionally turning their heads in different directions to find their new teams. Like the others, Mario wore the standard “Recruit” variant of the Generation 2 MJOLNIR Armor, but the team he was assigned to would most likely have more advanced or specialized variants. Telling them apart from the crowd of newcomers would therefore probably be easy – assuming there were not too many experienced teams waiting in the hangar like them.

Somewhat calmed, Mario began to pace down the walkways, keeping his eyes open for his new teammates. To his left, one recruit had found his team and was busy getting introduced to the other members. Interestingly, other than the new recruit, all team members wore the “Enforcer” armor variant, implying that they were a security detail. A security team requiring a replacement would seem unlikely given how little combat they usually saw, though Mario had heard one of the UNSC’s bases had been besieged during the latest campaign, so he assumed they had been forced to fight at some point.

Mario passed by a few other teams awaiting replacements or in the middle of introductions, but none with the emblem he had been told to watch out for – a clenched fist rising out of blue flames. He made out emblems with crowned skulls, gold snakes, Spartan helmets with medieval swords crossed behind them, and Unggoy heads bursting into confetti, among others.

However, it was not until he reached a stack of crates near the end of the bay that he found Fireteam Ember. One – a woman, he determined as he got closer – was seated on top of the crates, leaning against the wall and flicking a lighter on and off. Another – who Mario pegged as the leader – stood loitered against the crates, but with his eyes trained in the direction of the troop transport – and once Mario approached, on him. The other two – one man and one woman – were conversing with each other a few meters away from the other two. All of them glanced at him as he came closer. Mario took a breath.

Here we go.

He stood straight, held his helmet under one arm, and snapped off a salute with his free hand. "Spartan Recruit Mario Esteves Azevedo reporting for duty, sir!"

"Drop the ‘sir’ crap, rookie, we ain’t that polite here." The red-haired woman with the lighter interjected before the leader could respond. Her hair was longer than the regs normally required, though no doubt her service record was enough to give her a pass on that. She seemed more muscled than the average female Spartan, which aided in making her look more intimidating (as if the “Raider” armor was not enough).

"Err, uh, right" Mario stuttered. Despite her tone and expression only seeming to denote mild annoyance, there was a certain weight to every spoken word that took Mario aback – almost as if she was attempting to convey deep loathing without saying or showing it outright – further aided by the strong gaze of her deep blue eyes. The thought unsettled him, to say the least. As did the reactions of the other two members – they were just staring at him, maintaining a stoic glare, their eyes feeling like they were trying to bore through his own and into his brain.

The leader brought Mario’s focus back to him by coughing lightly. "Don’t mind Rachel" he said, forcing a smile as he did. "She’s always been grumpy."

"Up yours, Connor." In contrast to her last line to Mario, that statement was worded harshly, but there was also a hint of begrudging respect in her tone. Regardless, Connor ignored her and kept focusing on Mario.

"Ok, let’s do proper introductions, shall we?" Unlike Rachel, Connor’s spoke with a kinder, understanding voice matching his expression, which Mario greatly appreciated, though it was not exactly what he had expected from the leader of a Fireteam – his experience in the Marines had shown most of them to be serious and firm with their orders – Connor by comparison seemed more relaxed. And yet, Mario couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something fishy about the former that he had missed – could he be faking his relaxed attitude? Or merely conceal something from the new recruit?

"Rachel here is a close quarters and ambush specialist" Connor continued, interrupting Mario’s train of thought. "We use her mainly as a vanguard – thin out the enemy ranks before we get there or set up traps, that sort of thing. She really likes to play with fire too – literally, so watch out for that." Mario laughed a little at that, but it turned into nervous laughter when Rachel snorted in response. "Maya" – Connor gestured at the other female member, this one with blond hair, light blue eyes, a more tanned skin tone, and lither frame than Rachel - "is our marksman and spotter. Jason" – Connor cast a quick glance at the other male, who had similarly short but brown hair, unusually dark eyes, and broad shoulders - "is our CQC specialist. He likes to collect brute weapons, hence the brute shot and dual spikers." True enough, two spikers were stuck to the magnet holsters on Jason’s thighs, and a brute shot attached to his back. Normally, looting and using enemy weapons would be against UNSC protocol, but evidently the higher-ups were fine with giving this team leeway. "And I’m..." Connor paused for a moment, and Mario could have sworn that Maya and Jason tensed a little, as if anticipating their leader’s response. "...the team’s second-in-command. I’ll lead for a while until Scott recovers. I’m also our long-range sniper."

Maya and Jason were close to Scott, Mario realized, or at least preferred him leading the team. And it seemed like they had been obvious enough about their feelings on the subject for Connor to notice, hence his careful choice of words. To them, Connor was stealing Scott’s position as leader.

And now I’m taking his position of Rifleman.

Maybe I should say something – to smoothen out the transition?

"I’m, uh, I mean, merda! I just..." he nervously stuttered, mentally kicking himself whilst trying to figure out what to say. "I’m sorry about what happened to Scott. I hope I’m going to be a good replacement, and-" he stopped, realizing too late what he’d said. Without any words, Maya and Jason turned and walked out of the hangar bay.

''Idiota! You had to open your maldito boca, didn’t you!? Now you’ve blown your chance to make a good impression on half the team.''

Rachel picked that moment to chime in. "Wow, well done, rookie." She had an amused smile on her face. "Not only are you probably gonna get yourself and us killed, but now you’ve made those two hate you, too? Sucks to be you."

"I didn’t mean to...damn it, I just wanted to... Caralho!"

"Rachel, back off!" Connor put on a reassuring smile, visibly taking some effort. "Look, they’re not too fond of me either at the moment. They’ll probably come around soon."

"Yeah, that’s bound to happen" Rachel stated, sarcasm dripping from every word. "And soon enough I’ll start shitting money, too. Won’t that be grand?"

Connor’s response was interrupted by an announcement over the speakers by a monotone, artificial masculine voice. "Spartan Commander Almasi requests that the leaders of fireteams Spark, Bonfire and Ember report to the bridge immediately."

While there was no tone from which to discern intent – no doubt it belonged to a “dumb” AI – Mario couldn’t help but find it strange. Team leaders would usually only get debriefed if they were going to be deployed. And yet, the Pater Noster was deep in human-controlled space. Surely the Covenant would not be able to attack this close to Earth...

"Sorry" Conner said hurriedly, suddenly looking more serious – was he also suspecting something? "We’ll have to get more closely acquainted later, Mario. Rachel" – he looked up at her - "Try to treat him decently until I come back."

"You want me to give him a massage while I’m at it?" She asked, but Connor had already headed down the corridor to the bridge and ignored her. She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at Mario, disinterest evident. "Got any questions, rookie? If so, ask now and be done with it. Our fearless leader did tell me to treat you decently, after all."

There was a bit of awkward silence before Mario finally mustered the courage to ask: "I, uh, get the distinct impression I’m not welcome here."

"To put it mildly" Rachel chuckled, though strangely there was a bit of warmth to her words. Mario really could not figure this red-headed woman out. "Nothing personal – not yet, anyway. It’s mostly that you’re a Four."

"Do...you have something against fours, then?"

"Against some, certainly. But it’s too soon to tell if you’re one of those. The problem is that you’re a four assigned to this team." She put down the lighter and met his gaze. "Ever since we got here, the brass has come to rely on us for the toughest jobs – and who could blame ‘em? We pull as much weight as a platoon of fours and with none of the casualties – until Scott, obviously, and even then he’s not dead. And now we have to settle for you – not just a four, but a four who’s spent more time training and acquiring degrees than actually fighting."

Mario took notice of the last sentence. "How did you know my service record?"

"Because I read it, idiot" she said, with not a hint of shame. "I know your only real field experience was a couple months of rounding up and fighting the remnants of an innie group on Cascade. Other than that, you’ve done little more than undertake a large number of training programs – a combat engineering course on Mars, an underwater deployment training program on Earth, zero-g school on Luna, and further training in numerous vehicle and aircraft simulators. Somehow, this qualified you to join the ODSTs – though I guess it’s not that hard nowadays, considering how many people they keep losing to Spartan branch – but barely a couple weeks after you wrapped up there you applied for Spartan and got accepted. Should I go on?"

"Uh, no, that’s quite alright" Mario replied, struggling to find a proper response. He had never considered the possibility of a serious divide between Spartan-IVs and Spartans from previous programs, though in hindsight he decided it made some sense – though little was known about how the other programs functioned, it was clear the candidates of those programs had been trained from childhood to be supersoldiers. It was their destiny. Mario and the other IVs had to first volunteer to the UNSCDF branch of choice, and then apply to the Spartan Program – again, making their own choice. It wasn’t their destiny or the entire point of their existence – they had not been raised to be soldiers from childhood, and as such they had lives outside the military. How could Mario measure up to Rachel and the others? But the brass seemed to think I was up for it...

As if reading his mind, Rachel interrupted his train of thought. "Look, I don’t doubt you’re good for a four – you’ve had a longer training period and therefore a better base to work off of than most, and you’ve proved yourself a natural learner – but the thing is, compared to me and Connor, that means jack shit. I just fought against three other fours in the simulator – all three of them among the top five of their respective classes – and won despite giving them a big headstart. At best, you’ll get yourself killed. At worst, you’re gonna get us killed too. If you know what’s best for you, you should probably request a transfer to another unit – one that’s not out of your league."

So, that’s it, huh?

Mario returned her intense gaze, trying to determine the intent of her words – was she just being a bitch in an attempt to get rid of him? Or was she actually trying to keep him from getting himself killed? Regardless of her motive, he had to admire the setup of her plan to make him leave – reading up on his service record to point out where he was lacking, and simultaneously flattering his abilities compared to other fours and presenting the same talents as pathetic compared to her own, as well as the risks inherent in serving with Fireteam Ember, all phrased as rational arguments to convince him that leaving was the only logical choice.

''Good thing I never cared too much about rationality. Or had much of a self-preservation instinct.''

"Sorry you feel that way" he said after a long pause. "But I’m not going anywhere! This might be the best chance I’ll ever have, and if you expect me to just give up because you guys don’t think I can do it – think again!"

Rachel had briefly looked taken aback at his newfound enthusiasm, but she quickly regrouped and assumed a smug smile. "Hey, if you wanna die, be my guest! Regardless of what you say, you’re not gonna be good enough to fight alongside us on equal terms-"

"Then train me!" Mario interrupted.

That she had definitely not expected. "What?"

"Well, uh, you obviously know what I need to improve" Mario continued, pressing the advantage before she had time to regroup. It was his best chance to win at least her over and keep his assignment to the team from being a complete disaster. "I mean, you read my file, you know what I can and can’t do, right? And you said yourself I’m a fast learner, so why don’t you give me a chance? Who knows, if you’re a good enough teacher, maybe I won’t become a burden to the team."

"I don’t make a habit of babysitting people, kid."

"I figured, but we both know I’m stuck here" he insisted. "Isn’t it best to try and mitigate the damage? It sounds like you fight a lot in the simulator anyway, so where’d the harm be in letting me join you on those occasions?"

"Other than the fact I may start losing?" She retorted.

"Am I really worse than any of the Spartans you’ve fought lately?" Mario asked, not relenting.

For a moment, Rachel looked like she was going to give him a scathing retort, but ultimately she made a frustrated sigh and buried her forehead in her palm. "Oh for the love of- Fine!" She replied through gritted teeth. "But only so you won’t get me killed in the field. And if I lose against morons like Nielsen and Kururugi because of you, I swear I’ll make sure you clean toilets for the rest of your life!"

''Well, this is a small success. Way to go, rookie!''

"This was certainly interesting."

Mario and Rachel turned to see Connor watching them from the doorway, smiling. For once, Rachel seemed a little embarrassed.

"How long were you gawking at us?" Her tone betrayed a bit of disbelief – probably from the fact she hadn’t realized Connor was there. Not that Mario had noticed him either, but he guessed that Rachel was better than him at taking in her surroundings.

"I only just got here, actually" Connor replied reassuringly. "I just wanted you to finish before I cut in."

Rachel seemed to decide it was best for everyone just to drop the subject. "So what did the Commander have to say?"

Connor’s face instantly became more serious. "We’re getting deployed to Beta Hydri VI along with Spark and Bonfire."

''Beta Hydri VI? Why would we have to deploy there?''

"I thought we were guaranteed a day off before we left the system" Rachel sneered.

"We were" Connor replied, "but a new problem just cropped up. Innies started an uprising in Lerna, the capital of Argolid. Riot police was overwhelmed and the rebels now control the parliament building. The Army won’t attack as long as the government’s held hostage, so it’s up to us to kill the rebels in the parliament building and rescue or protect the hostages until the Army can roll in and restore order."

"Well" Rachel started, smiling bitterly, "guess we won’t have time to install your training wheels, rookie. I damn well hope for your sake that you’re as good as the brass think you are."

Mario gulped. Being assigned to a team that were unsure of his capabilities and didn’t even really want him, and deployed into the heart of a city in the middle of a war zone – all on the same day?

Maldito perfect.