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Operation: Risen from the Ashes Prologue: An Odd Foresight In 2552, a coalition of alien races known as the C'oven will attack the spaceport of Reach. A fierce battle will ensue. The elite task force known as the Spartios will band together, and resist the power of this juggernaut of a force. Using their honed skills and augmented strengths, the Spartios will split into teams. A team will head toward the planets surface, in the hopes of resisting the C'oven and save the planet. All Spartios surface bound will perish in their zealous and unselfish desperate fighting. The reaming Spartios will venture onto a space dock, in the hopes of destroying a ship, known as the Circumference, and its onboard databases. By doing this, two more Spartios will perish, and the third will withdraw, finding sanctuary on the ship Pillar of Autumn. The Pillar of Autumn will withdraw into Slipstream, and by upholding Protocol, will venture into unknown territory. The C'oven will pursue this lone ship, destroy it, and land on the mysterious ring-world known as Halo in search of the last remaining Spartio. The Spartio, along with the help of a coalition of misfit Marines, will resist them on this ring-world and attempt to escape. A mysterious and eerie subculture known as t-. Because of the age of this log, it had become ravaged by viruses and other space-borne malefactors. The log ended, and the prophecy had been fore told. In 2552, the Inner Colony of Reach was ravaged by a coalition of alien races that had become known as the Covenant. The augmented soldiers of the future, the Spartans, had unselfishly gave up their lives for the protection of billions, and one Spartan, John-117 Petty Master Chief, escaped into Slipstream. *****0700 Hours, May 7, 2545 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Erdani System, planet Reach, military compound CASTLE "God damn it, Mendez. I don't want to hear that crap. What the hell do you mean we don't have the money?" "Ma'am, the government has defined our funds for the Spartan III project because of the failure of Spartan project II. They believe that overwhelming numbers of Marines will win the war against the Covenant, instead of small numbers of augmented soldiers." "Why can they not see the achievement of Spartan I? It ended out in success." "Ma'am, these decisions are out of my control." "Mendez, I believe I am aware of this. Now, if you are done, you may be excused." CPO Mendez silently turned on his heel, and walked out the door. On the doctors desk lay the telegraph that denied her request for funding for Spartan III. She sat there silent, looking blankly at the telegraph, and finally wrinkled her forehead. "Deja, get ONI on the up link." "Yes, ma'am." "This Agent Smith, Office of Naval Intelligence." "This is Doctor Halsey, may I speak to Admiral Preston Cole?" "Doctor, please hold- Ma'am, Admiral Preston Cole is busy at the moment. Can I take a message?" "God damn you, get Admiral Cole on the line now!" Admiral Cole's weathered face appeared on the up link. He appeared to be stressed out, and his eyes hung low. "Admiral, what is the meaning of this," the doctor said as she grabbed the note and showed the Admiral. "Doctor Halsey, we are cutting your funding because of the failure of Spartan II, and also the high death rate of Spartan I. Those men and women that have died due to experiments and augmentations could have become fine Marines." "Admiral, with all due respect, my research from the past two Spartan projects has become value information and it may turn the tide of war, and the death rate from Spartan I to II has been halved- image what the death rate of Spartan III may be, three lives to one death." "Doctor- I can grant you a rather small amount of money. It will, however, only be enough to outfit two Spartans. Twelve Spartans if you use the Spartan I suit. If you use the grant to invent and test a new suit, it may only be eight or less. Two billion-no more." "Thank you, Admiral." ***** 0300 Hours, November 12, 2545 (Military Calendar)/ Epsilon Erdani System, planet Reach, military compound Omega Gamma "GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED BOOT!" The fifty girls and boys rose from their bunks in an instant. In their faces, an instructor held a baton. One trainee refused to get out of bed. "GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED BOOT!" The instructor struck the trainee, and an electric bolt charged through his body. He rose almost instantly, and gasped for air. "GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED BOOT!" The trainees pulled on their sweats, embroidered on the left hip with the trainee's name. "Assemble!" An elderly Latino man walked in, flanked by two men, both at the rank of corporal. "Men! You are hereby enlisted into the United Nations Marine Corp. We will begin training, and you will become the best damn soldiers ever set foot on planetary soil. Get your asses in the showers and report to the black top at o-three-thirty! Dismissed!" The trainees ran into the shower, washed in cold water, and rinsed off in hot. They withdrew from the showers, and pulled on their slacks. The trainees filed out of the barracks, and were met with a torrent of water. CPO Mendez stood there with a fire hose, drenching the trainees as they ran out of the barracks. "Get your asses moving!" he yelled, as he continued to drown the kids. As soon as they filed out, CPO Mendez ordered: "Get your asses in ten lines, five each! Calisthenics! Ready be- what and the hell is your problem boot? Can't count? Get your ass moving! Boot, you're running. Get your ass moving, double time!" The trainee, whose name was Damien, took off. "Jumping jacks. Count off to one hundred. Go!" As they finished they're jumping jacks, they did push ups. Then up-downs followed by sit-ups. Damien continued to run around the military complex. The six-year-old kids couldn't go on any long, and collapsed. "Instructors, water!" The instructors brought hot, salty water to the trainees, but graciously drank it any ways. "Get your asses to class!" CPO Mendez ordered the trainees, and they charged towards the building entitled Academy. The trainees were met by a hologram. Rachel, a six-year-old girl from Reach, had heard of them, but had never seen an actual AI before. She gapped in awe, as the AI's metallic-silver hair waved. "Good morning class, I am Deja," she said, and then continued, "today, we will learn about the Spartans, ancient and modern." Her holographic image disappeared, and the children entered the room. Her image appeared at the front of the room, pointing at a flat table. The flat table turned into a valley, one side an ocean, the other mountains. On one side of the valley, the Spartans; the other lay the Persian. She instructed, "Long ago, in ancient times, peoples battled fiercely. They battled for rule over another, and a fierce group of warrior known as the Spartans opposed the Persian rule. Three hundred Spartans slaughtered over three thousand Persian regulars. The Spartans were never defeated until the arrival of the Centurions." The holographic table changed again; it appeared to be a town, and in the square, lay a giant wooden horse. "These children, are the Trojans. They laid siege to this town, and after a long time, withdrew, leaving behind a wooden horse as a gift to the king. It was not an ordinary horse, oh no. That very night, warriors emerged from the horse. As the guards slept, they killed them, and by morning, the town was overrun." Damien ate his stale crackers, and gulped down his hot milk. "Tomorrow kids, we are going to about Modern Spartans, and wolves. It's time for break, you are excused to the play ground." The kids cheered as they rushed out of the classroom. CPO Mendez met them, baton in hand. "Kids, we are taking a walk." The walk had turned into a two mile, flat run. In their midst lay a large jungle gym. In the middle, flanked by ropes, pulleys, poles, and bridges, stood a thirty-foot tall pole, adorned by a brass bell. "Well kids, pair up into threes. First team, as a whole, the ring the bell and cross this line wins. Go." Damien paired with Rachel, and another boy named Nathan. Damien charged ahead of the others. He climbed a pole, tugged on a pulley, ran across a bridge, and then climbed up a thirty-foot tall pole to ring the bell. He slid down the pole, and waited for his teammates. Rachel charged by next, followed closely behind by Nathan. Damien, however, had already caught his breathe. "That kid reminds me of John 117, yes he does," Mendez whispered to one of his attendants. "He's fast, and strong at that. He's got the spunk to be a leader." The trainees finished the day back in gymnasium, lifting weights and sparring with each other already. "Sir, they're only six. Do you actually think they should be lifting weights already?" "Colonel, they will be Spartans by age ten. Twelve at the most. That means I have four, six years at the most, to get them into Spartan condition. 1506 Hours, November 24, 2545 (Military Calendar)/ Epsilon Erandi System, planet Reach, military compound Omega Gamma Ratat! Ratatatata! Ratatatatatatatatata! Blam! Blam! Blam! By day twelve, CPO Mendez already had the children on the firing range. He knew he had at least half the time to get them into shape as he did Spartan I, so he stepped up his schedule. Ratatatat! Ratatatatatat! Ratatata! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Chum! Click, boom! Click, boom! He also had some trainees armed with the shotgun and sniper rifle. Damien, for one, was armed with the sniper rifle. So far, he had scored a perfect one hundred percent on his classroom tests, and target shooting. Mendez could see almost immediately that he had what it took for him to a Squad leader. |
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