Discourse A (TPF)

Weapons do not retire; they are used until they are useless. Useless meant many things and SPARTANs had a good idea what definition the Office of Naval Intelligence had in mind. There was never the idea of retirement for a SPARTAN, such assets were too valuable to be retired. Fhajad-084 was a SPARTAN-II Project candidate who was crippled by Project: ASTER and remained in the UNSC Navy. No SPARTAN retired and Samuel felt his chances of getting out from the UNSC’s grips were impossible. He had his points to argue but there was his opponent, the Office of Naval Intelligence.
“What if you stay in, but take a different role?” Verlin asked.
Sam looked up at his mentor and then took a breath, he heard the idea too many times.
“Probably heard that once or twice,” Verlin said. “But not their way, your own way.”
“Hmm, what’s your idea?” Sam asked after cracking his neck.
Verlin had a non-traditional career in the Office of Naval Intelligence. He started out as a low-level analyst before being thrown into pandora’s box, known as Section Three. Each job was different, and he took the time to become good enough where he was promoted. Verlin’s career was built on the success of Samuel’s ability to complete complex missions. As Verlin rose with an expanding political capital, Samuel followed suit as a key player to his dominance within the dark corners of Section Three.
“Don’t do what I did and play with fire in front of gasoline. Take a Limited Officer Duty commission and join Special Warfare, that’s where you belong. Then, get your academic degrees in things you want such as Engineering, Information Sciences, and other research disciplines. From there, couple your combat experience with academic research and become a valuable strategist for different commands. You can teach, deploy, lead, and some headquarters shit to ensure you don’t put the armor back on.”
“But there’s a catch” Sam said.
“ONI’s never going to let go of you, ever. They’ll throw you into the SPARTAN Reserves, activate you whenever your needed and upend everything you want in life. The missions will be the same dangers and risk, while you are a bit more dated and a more expendable asset than a SPARTAN-IV.”
“You’re telling me,” Sam said while tapping the bench. “I’ll never get out from under ONI, I’m too much of a liability. So instead of becoming a tool that can become expendable, become someone they cannot replace so easily.”
“More or less,” Verlin replied. “You get degrees and prove yourself as an innovator for warfare, you’re less likely to hit the field and more likely to hit the drawing boards with higher headquarters staff. They’ll need you more than slugging it out in the field like a mindless grunt.”
“SPARTANs aren’t mindless grunts,” Sam shot back.
“No, they aren’t. But look at the IV’s program, they’re popping out SPARTANs faster than Misriah is making MA5s. SPARTAN-Is were retired and then they popped back up in different conflicts, often leading to their demise. SPARTANs, regardless of their class, are too damn important to not be used until they are dead. Every II was essentially worked to death, IIIs were thrown at the Covenant until they were destroyed, and now the IV’s are thrown around like credits at a rich strip club. Your value as a SPARTAN is going down to a point where you are expendable.”
Leaning back, Sam sat on the words from Verlin and let the ideas sink in. The idea of leaving the UNSC seemed to be the most desired because he wanted to get out and away. He didn’t like the idea of becoming a more expendable asset, especially with the rapid growth of the SPARTAN-IV Program. ONI would have a perfect opportunity to send him on a suicide mission, list him Missing in Action, and tie up a loose end to the SPARTAN-III Program.
“Not an easy decision to stay in, I know.” Verlin said after the long silence. “But you need to understand, ONI gets what it wants, and it goes both ways. If you expose yourself by cutting all ties, then you’re a ticking bomb. But if you stay in and reclassify at least, you become too valuable to be thrown onto a suicide mission.”
“ONI was never known for treating their child soldiers with much care,” Sam replied. “So, it makes sense to play this game with them. Will they support it though?”
“Yes,” Verlin said with certainty.
“Because they rather see me transition into a role where I can make more of an impact than becoming a liability.”
“Precisely, remember the Master Chief? ONI sent a rendition team after him and there have been numerous debates about what to do with him. We have no fucking clue and at this rate, we’ll keep exploiting him until he dies or quit. Is that a life you want?”
Shaking his head, Sam didn’t want to put himself through the torture of forming a team and losing them again. Having a small group of people who were safe from the many threats on the frontlines was an appealing idea, even with the same sense of duty and call to protect Humanity.
“Choice is yours though. Whatever you choose, I know you will do what’s best for you,” Verlin said before standing up. “Also, tell your wife I said hi.”