Halo: Pariah's Way

Halo: Pariah's Way is an upcoming short story in three parts by Chakravartin. It follows Amy-G094 as she begins to deal with the loss of most of her team and her induction into the Headhunter programme.
==Pariah's Way==
===Part One===
"How are they doing?" 
"They'll live." came the reply. She flicked across the screen of the small device displaying the current vitals of one of the pair in the infirmary. "SPARTAN-G024 has suffered serious injury, it is likely he will be here for an extended period of time."
"What about G094?"
"Her wounds are less severe. She'll be ready for discharge much sooner."
"Are we sure that's such a good idea?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't be."
"Have you had a chance to read their file?"
"A lot of it is classified."
"That's not what I asked, Doctor."
She exhaled sharply before shrugging. "I skimmed it," a breath, "sir."
"Trust me, then, when I say it's better for all of us that G094 stays near him until it's time for him to leave." He batted the top of his nose with the tip of his index finger. "Are we clear?"
"Crystal, sir."	
"Good." He turned to leave, "inform me of changes in their conditions."
Within the cerebral white walls of the ship's infirmary lay two still, almost lifeless bodies. SPARTANs G024 and G094 were survivors of a botched technological snatch n' grab mission. Under the former's leadership, the other three Spartans of their squad had been killed along with two platoons of battle-hardened Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. It was lucky either of them had made it out alive—there could have been no preparing for the Flood encountered on the space station. Their sub-machine guns and carbines simply did not have the stopping power required to take down the parasitic soldiers quickly enough, as a result, the mission had rapidly become a slaughter. Even with four SPARTAN-IIs assisting. 
A heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm beside Amy-G094's wounded body. Her face was heavily scarred, and covered in blotches of red as the wounds wept. Her lithe body had a cooling bandage placed around her hips, desperately fighting to heal the plasma-burned skin. Scars criss-crossed her muscular arms and legs. It was difficult to believe that on this bed lay a young girl of fourteen. She had seen more in those short fourteen years than most did in a lifetime.
Amy inhaled deeply. She had just been taken off the ventilator; her lungs were re-adjusting to breathing without support. Within a few moments, and after a few violent coughs, her body had completed its readjustment. Her eyes blinked softly. Instinctively, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright lights of the room. Amy placed both of hands behind her body as she began to push herself up. Small groans escaped her lips. Sharp pinpricks of pain shot their way throughout her wounded body.
She sat up on the bed, her feet barely touching the floor and began to check herself over. She rotated her left arm, then her right. They were stiff, but undamaged. Then she ran a careful hand along her jawline. There was an audible gasp as her finger traced a raw scar. Amy put her hands through her hair, tearing away knots that had formed in its unwashed state. Silently, she pondered exactly how long she had been asleep. Her eyes darted over the room, surveying it carefully. It was almost empty, save for the two beds and heart monitors. Towards what she assumed was the door stood a small, plain cabinet. From the right of her bed was a large mirror. She assumed it was the observation area for her physicians. The other bed in the room was directly across from her. In it lay another motionless young teenager.
Amy gingerly placed her foot on the ground. A sharp jolt of pain shot its way through her spine. She took a deep breath and held it in her lungs; she counted to three. On three, she exhaled. Amy did this three more times as she prepared to take her first step. Each of them was a laborious process. She had to think, and concentrate intensely as each movement of her muscles consumed another drop of the energy she did not have. Eventually, her body settled into a rhythm and she was able reach the bedside of the only other surviving member of Team Xiphos. She sat on the chair next to the bed. Amy gently took Josh's hand and stroked his fingers with her thumb. 
"Oh, Joshua," she sighed, "you poor thing."
Amy had not been conscious when Josh was wounded, so only now was she able to see the extent of his wounds. There was a severe laceration on his left thigh, on his stomach a small plasma burn was covered by the same cooling bandage Amy was wearing. As her eyes drifted upwards, she finally noticed the plethora of wounds around his collar. It was clear that he had taken a needler round in his collarbone. The resulting explosion has shattered his collarbone and shoulder. It would be months before he would be able to do anything again. The skin on his face was puckered with small scars, clearly his faceplate had shattered in combat. It looked, to Amy anyway, that Josh had been lucky to be still breathing considering the wounds he had suffered. 
Amy leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes, Josh’s hand still firmly laced between her fingers. The door opened just before Amy had drifted into an uncomfortable sleep. She turned her head to see whom had entered, upon noticing the silver leaf cluster on the man’s sleeve, she attempted to stand at attention.
“At ease, Spartan,” he said, “I’m Lieutenant Commander Frendsen. I was in charge of Contagio Purgatio.”
Amy’s hands tensed. “Yessir,” she replied through gritted teeth. 
Frendsen noticed the young Spartan's movements and adopted a softer tone, “do you mind if I sit down?” he said as he gestured towards the free chair beside Amy’s bed.
“Of course not, sir.” She returned to the reclined posture she had previously been sitting in.
Frendsen took the chair and swung it around, setting it down at the foot of the bed, keeping a safe distance from Amy. He sat down and crossed his legs while he fidgeted with the cuffs of his uniform. Eventually he simply settled for pulling them both down. 
“Ghastly places, aren’t they?” he said finally.
“Sir?”
“Hospitals, emergency rooms, whatever. Horrible places.”
“Yes, sir.”
“During the latter parts of the Insurrection, I think I was in a hospital almost as much as I was out fighting. Horrible seeing your friends lying there, torn up, limbs missing. Part of the reason I took this desk job, actually.”
“Yes, sir.” 
Frendsen sighed and lowered his eyes, his hand placed on his neck as his scratched the stubble. “How are you, Spartan?”
“Sir?” Amy replied, eyebrow raised.
“I asked you how you were.”
“Injured, sir.” A pause. “I think you can see that.” Another. “Sir.”
Frendsen grunted, his lips curling ever so slightly on one side of his mouth. “I can, indeed.” He looked at her, straight in the eyes. “But that’s not what I meant.”
“Worried, sir.”
“About?”
She thumbed at Joshua.
“Of course.”
“Do you know how he is?”
“How do you think he is?”
“Injured.”
“Yes, he is. Gravely injured. The doctor told me before I came in here that G024 is likely to be out of action for a substantial period of 
time.” Frendsen scratched his earlobe with his right index figure, “much longer than you actually. The good doctor estimates you’re about three weeks away from discharge.”
“Oh.” She said, her head dropped. 
“Indeed,” Frendsen said, “Some members of the brass would like you reassigned permanently away from G024, reuniting with Team Sword who are in the process of re-training having recuperated from their wounds.”
“W-what about Josh?” She stammered. 
“I’m not sure, possibly for use as their own tool.” 
“I… see, sir.”
He leaned forward on the chair. “However, they’ve asked me for an opinion of whether or not such a move would be possible considering you’ve only worked with G024.”
“Sir?”
“I’m of the opinion the separation of you from G024 isn’t the best course of action. Indeed, I was monitoring your vital signs through the mission, upon you being wounded his heart-rate skyrocketed; suggesting serious concern. More worryingly, however, was the significant decrease in his fighting ability. His accuracy decreased by .74% and his thinking time for decisions increased by around half a second.”
“We had lost three teammates, sir, it can’t be down to just me getting wounded.” 
“Correct.” He ran his hand across his mouth. “There was some performance drop, but it was negligible.”
Amy’s head lowered further. 
“We know about how he depends on you, Amy.” 
Frendsen using her name felt weird to her ears, it made her uncomfortable. “Y-yes, sir.” 
“That must be tough.”
“It is, sir.” She paused and took a deep breath to steady her quivering voice. “It’s tiring.”
“I bet it is.” He reached over and gently placed a hand on her knee. 
“It’s lonely. It’s going to be lonelier now that Colin, Maria and Andrew are gone.” 
“I bet.” He reached for the water jig on the small table attached to Josh’s bed. “Would you like a drink?” Amy nodded. He took two plastic cups and poured into each of them until they were about three-quarters full. He handed one of them to Amy, and she grasped it gratefully, nodding her thanks. 
Amy sipped her water. It was ice cold and it was only after that did Amy realise just how thirsty she was. She gulped down the rest of the water in one and pushed it out, with the cup tilted slightly. Frendsen took the jug of water and quickly refilled it. 
“Now, Amy, as I said, those above me are looking for my input into whether or not we should separate you two. I’d like your opinion. We can move you into Team Sword and have Josh on his own, for possible use with ONI.” He looked at her straight in the eyes. “But truth be told, it’s unlikely they would pick him up after such a high casualty count. Chances are they’d simply let him die.” he made a cutting motion with his hands. “Yes, they have that power. No one outside of our, my, division knows about the Spartan-III program. They can do what they wish with him and you.” The young Spartan sitting before Frendsen was attentive and it was clear to him she was thinking of all the possible outcomes. Her furrowed brow confirmed to him she was seriously considering the offer. 
“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, Amy. You can simply leave the decision up to me if tha-”
“Would they kill him?”
“I can’t say.” He shrugged, “it’s definitely possible.”
“I don’t know if I could live with it.” She gripped her hands tightly.
“He did lead your teammates to their deaths.”
“That’s not fair.”
“But he did.” Frendsen leaned forward.	
“We were fighting enemies we’d never encountered before, we had the wrong weapons, and none of us were prepared for it. Josh and I just happened to be luckier than most.” 
Frendsen chuckled slightly and took a sip of his water. “So, you gonna leave him or...?” 
“Let me think about it.”
“Okay.” He down his water and sat up, “we don’t have long really. They want a decision today so we can prepare the training facilities.” He looked down at his watch. “I’ll give you a few hours.” 
Frendsen got up from his chair and placed a comforting hand onto Amy’s shoulder. He squeezed softly and nodded. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered. He stood up straight and nodded as he turned on his heels and left, shoes clicking on the hospital floor.
Amy returned the gesture, nodding feebly as he left and immediately slumped back into her chair. She closed her eyes, and cleared her head.
*
Kurt Ambrose sat with his head over a file of one of the candidates he had singled out as a potential star candidate. He sat back and dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and sighed loudly. “I don’t understand,” he said, exasperatedly. 
“Sir?” Franklin Mendez said: his faithful friend and mentor, once again training a new breed of Spartans.
“Trainee-G094, Amy, she’s really letting us down.” He said as Mendez offered him a Sweet William Cigar. 
Kurt waved his hand, “no thanks.”
Mendez closed the cigar case and put one to his mouth, he struck a match alight and cupped his hand as he brought the flame to the tip of his cigar. He took three small puffs and exhaled the dark grey smoke into the room. “Yessir,” he replied, “her scores have dropped considerably.”
“Any possible explanation for such?” Kurt asked the Petty Officer.
“One, sir,” Mendez took another drag of his cigar, “Xiphos’s new CO, G024.”
“What about him?” Kurt said genuinely perplexed. He turned on his computer and scrolled through his files until he found this particular trainee. Kurt took a moment to read through the file. “Joshua Héroux, Trainee-G024, he’s dedicated, if unremarkable, his leadership scores haven’t been updated.” Kurt turned around in his chair and lifted his eyes to look at Mendez, “who’s in charge of updating that?”
“Tom, sir.”
“Well make sure he updates it soon.”
“Will do, sir.” Mendez took a longer drag of his cigar and flicked the ash into the ashtray on Kurt’s desk.
“But back to G024, what about him is it holding her back?”
“Well sir,” Mendez began, “As it says in the file, Trainee-G024 has severe anti-social tendencies and significant trust issues. He rarely mixes with any of the other candidates, openly hostile to those who try and talk to him.”
“And what does this have to do with G094?” Kurt asked impatiently. 
“Getting there, sir,” Mendez quipped before continuing, “G094 is the only one who he has really taken to. Seems to rely upon her a lot. Xiphos, while a fairly good bunch of individuals, has a very fractious atmosphere due to G024 when Amy wasn’t it command. She’s had to cater to him, to make him fall in line.”
“That’s a big responsibility.” Kurt said, genuinely astounded by what he was hearing. 
“It is sir, bringing the team down.” 
“It was G024’s turn to lead yesterday wasn’t it?” 
“Yessir, it was,” Mendez replied as he snuffed out his cigar. “I have only seen a little of them. Decently organised, G024 was leading them well, G094 was performing better, but still below her best.” The soft inflection of his words lingered awkwardly for a moment.
“Speak your mind, Chief,” Kurt barked.
“Yessir,” Mendez replied hastily, “a transfer into Sabre or Katana might be a good idea.”
Kurt reclined into his chair, causing a slight squeak to echo throughout the room, and thought in silence for a few moments. “Bring her here.”
Mendez nodded and headed out. It was an unusual situation for Kurt to find himself in. It wasn’t often that the recruits he singled out as potential candidates to be sent to ONI routinely let him down. It was a saddening sight for him to bear witness to as he had considered G094, Amy Scullion, to be one of the better candidates from the entire Spartan III roster. Indeed, often he had but her on par with Carter and Catherine. He took a sip of the orange juice by his side. Once cold it was now warm and unpalatable but he had no reason or desire to complain, and after pausing for a moment gulped down the rest.
A heartbeat later and Mendez and Amy entered Kurt’s office. He stood up. Amy saluted instinctively.
“At ease, Trainee.” He walked around her, she was still tense, small beats of sweat trickling down her neck. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“No, sir,” she said immediately, “am I in trouble, sir?”
Kurt remained stoic, “No. On the contrary, the Chief and I are worried about you.”
“Sir?” She asked perplexed, her eyebrow raising slightly. 
“Your scores have dropped considerably, Trainee.” Mendez snarled. Kurt noted that he had re-entered his trainer mode. Even to this day, it caused Kurt to inadvertently stand straighter. Regardless of how close their relationship had become, Kurt still feared and respected this man. 
“I-I’m sorry, sir.” Her head drooped. 
“Now now, Trainee,” Kurt tipped her chin up with his finger. “We’re here to help, aren’t we Chief?”
“Sir.”
“We think we know why your scores have dropped. It is very disappointing, we had such high hopes for you.”
Amy’s shoulders slumped even further.
“We can help you, we know G024 is a burden you’re carrying alone. It’s not fair.”
“Sir?” She replied defiantly. 
“He’s holding you back, Amy,” Kurt said tenderly. “If you want, we can have you transferred into Sabre Team. Much more suited to you.”
Silence descended upon the room. Amy’s fists clinched tightly, Kurt continued to stand and stare at her in anticipation while Mendez stared out of the window watching people scurry around Camp Currahee. 
Mendez finally turned around and looked menacingly at Amy. “The CO asked you a question, Trainee, you best answer him.”
Amy bit down on her lip. “No thank you, sir.” She said, strength coursing through her voice. Kurt smiled slightly.
“Trainee?” He said, demanding clarification. 
“No thank you, sir, I do not wish to be transferred into Sabre.” She regained her tall, straight backed posture, “I wish to remain in Xiphos.”
“Very well,” Kurt responded. “Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.” She saluted and left.
Kurt returned to his desk and sat down. “I think I will have one of those cigars, Chief.” 
Mendez brought out his cigar box again and took out two cigars, he handed the first to Kurt and put the second in his own mouth. He struck up a match and lit his cigar before doing the same for Kurt’s. 
The two old friends took drags and exhaled at the same time. Kurt looked at his cigar that hung limply between his index and middle fingers. “Still unsure why you smoke these, Chief.”
“Man’s gotta have a few luxuries in his life, sir,” he joked.
Kurt smiled empathetically. 
Mendez reclined against the window sill again, “You surprised by her choice, Sir?”
Kurt shrugged his shoulders. “Not entirely, I admit.”
“She’s loyal that girl. Very loyal. Compassionate, too. Very few Spartans like her; she's special, sir.” Mendez crossed his arms and thought deeply for a moment. “I know she’ll turn it around.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I know the type,” he laughed. He stood up tall and straight, in an instant all the familiarity that had been there, dissipated into a soldier addressing a superior. “Will that be everything, Sir?”
Kurt looked him up and down once more. “That’ll be all,” Mendez saluted, “dismissed, Chief.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Kurt returned the salute and winked as he snapped his hand down. 
*
Amy was awoken by prodding just beneath her ribs. She tried to feebly bat them away with her hands, put they were persistent. 
“Spartan-G094,” Frendsen whispered, “wake up.” 
Amy groaned and turned further into the chair she was sitting on. Frendsen placed his hand onto her shoulder and began shaking her gently. 
“Spartan, wake up.” He insisted. 
Amy’s eyes shot open and immediately rubbed them his her hands as she yawned violently. She sat up straighter. “Sorry, sir.” She said.
“That’s okay,” he replied gently. “I brought us some food.” 
Frendsen sat down two steaming trays. Both of them contained toast, scrambled eggs and coffee. He pushed the table over towards Amy before lifting his own tray and setting it onto his lap. “Eat,” he said as he tucked into his own.
Amy lethargically sat up and pushed the tray and table closer towards herself, as she sat up she felt a strong, sharp pain shoot up through her back. She gasped, which was greeted with a concerned look from Frendsen. Amy waved him off. Gingerly she picked up the fork and rolled around a few lumps of clumped together egg. She dug her fork into it and flopped it into her mouth. She chewed weakly. Next, Amy took the coffee and put it to her lips, gently savouring the smell. It smelt like it was proper coffee, and not the instant coffee she had grown so accustomed to. 
Frendsen looked up at Amy’s appreciative face and smirked. “It’s Earth coffee, y’know. Columbian.” 
Amy’s eyes widened. She was often given the poor rations, the cheap rations that tasted of barely anything. She finally took a sip and moaned appreciatively. “Thank you, sir.” She lifted her cup up, shaking as she did so. “I really mean it.”
Frendsen laughed, “it’s okay, kid.” He took a long sip of his coffee, “you’ve earned it.”
“Yeah.” Amy’s voice turned sombre and her eyes welled up as she remember Joshua’s crippled body lying next to her and the friends who had died on that awful space station. Amy felt disingenuous as she held the hot cup of expensive coffee in her hands. Yes, she had earned this meal, she had earned the right to be alive aboard this station. However as she turned her on Frendsen, she felt bile rise in the back of her throat. The officer she was joking with had presented her with her only surviving friend's death warrant and told her she was the required signature. She took another scalding sip from her coffee, and set it down with as much force as she could muster.
“Spartan?” Frendsen enquired, genuinely concerned. “You okay?”
“Yessir,” she replied hastily before continuing. “Ask me the question you came to ask me.”
Frendsen too set down his coffee, only he had to put it on the floor. He leaned forward, and clasped his hands together. “Okay.” There was a pause, “what’s your answer? Are you going to be moved into Sword?”
“Thank you, sir, but no.” She smiled at him.
Frendsen smiled widely. “Somehow I knew that would be your answer.” 
Amy nodded, “We’ve been through so much, sir, and I couldn’t leave him now. He’s all I have left.”
“I know,” Frendsen reclined on his chair, “you’ll be stationed here then for the duration of his recovery. You’ll have access to the gym and weapons range.”
“Actually sir,” she interjected, “I would like to be deployed on my own when I’ve recovered from my wounds. Just while until Josh is recovered.”
“If only Kurt could see you now,” Frendsen got up. “I’ll be back in a few days. Good luck Amy.”
“Thank you, sir.” She breathed a sigh of relief and quietly watched him head out the door.
===Part Two===
Amy gently placed the weights back to where she had taken them from, and rotated her shoulders trying to remove the ache. She tilted her neck back and sighed. She took her towel from where it hung limply over the handles of a treadmill and dabbed the sweat from her brow before throwing it over her shoulder. The gym aboard the UNSC Hopeful had a bare minimum inventory for what her rehabilitation required. Amy went to her locker and put her used towel into the bottom section, and lifted out a new one. She heard footsteps behind her.
“Amy,” Frendsen said, “come see me when you’re ready.”
“Sir,” she replied.
Frendsen turned on the balls of his heels and headed out through the gym into the dimly lit corridor. His office was adjacent from the room where Amy and Joshua had first been brought in, and where the latter still lay comatose. Upon entering his office he noticed the compad beeping. He took his seat and hit the answer button.
“What is it?” He said.
“Update on Patient Two,” the doctor replied. 
“Good, let’s hear it.” 
“Surgery was successful. His body appears to have accepted the flash cloned liver and right lung. We’ll begin weaning him off the immuno-suppressants when his current dosage finishes. Furthermore, the swelling in his brain has reduced with no visible damage, obviously we won’t know more until he awakens, and on that note we’ll probably begin bringing him out of the coma on Thursday or Friday.” 
“That’s fantastic news,” Frendsen said as he let out a huge sigh of relief. 
“Yes, sir.” The doctor replied. “Is there anything else?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Frendsen replied before remembering something, “wait, Jen, I’m planning on putting Amy back into the field by the end of the week. Objections?”
There was a pause in the call. “Jen?” 
Still nothing.
“Well,” she began, “I have no objections, professionally. She’s responded well to treatment and seems ready.”
“You have objections privately?”
“Goodbye, Derek.” 
Frendsen met the dial tone with a chuckle as he opened the drawer and took out his electronic tablet. He keyed in his password and opened up the ‘priority file,’ which had just been sent to him that morning by his superiors. He glanced over it for what had to be have been the fifteenth time, his eyes still as focused on every word as the first reading. There was knock on the door and it forced him to set down the tablet.
“Enter,” he said.
The door slid open and Amy walked in wearing new fatigues. Her normally dark skin was ashen; drained of colour. She had her hair tied up in a tight bun. The scar on the left side of her jaw had healed considerably in the three weeks, but was still red, raw and angry. She saluted, and Frendsen saluted back.
“At ease,” he said before gesturing to a seat in front of him.
Amy took her seat, and seemed to be swallowed by the arms of the chair. Frendsen offered her a small smile. 
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to eat or drink.”
“That’s okay,” Amy replied quietly. “I had an energy bar and some water on the way up.”
“Good, good,” Frendsen said. “How’s the rehab going?”
“It’s going fine, yeah.” She licked her lips. “The nurses are kind enough, but the rehabbing ODSTs ignore me when they see me sparring with James.”
Frendsen laughed. “There’s a good reason for that.”
Amy began to pick at the nail on her thumb. The clicking was the only sound that hung in the air. Frendsen turned back to the papers he had on his desk, shuffling through them. He looked up at Amy and offered a sheepish smile, before turning back to the papers. He picked one up, but quickly tossed it aside when he noticed in was simply an expenses bill for the surviving members of Xiphos’ treatment. They had taken up all his time since arriving. The paperwork for them accumulated so quickly, that anything else quickly became buried under a mountain of medical charges. Frendsen, now exasperated, lifted a bunch of paper up at random. A non-expenses page stared up at him.
“Jesus Christ,” he mouthed. It was the middle of the report he was looking for. He turned the bundle of pages in his hand upside down, and siphoned off five pages. The first four completed the small booklet he had found. Frendsen looked at the superfluous fifth page, after reading he crumpled it up and threw it across the room.
“Just a moment,” he said to Amy.
She raised her eyebrows and moved her mouth upwards slightly, before tilting her head back down, her eyes firmly fixed on her calloused hands. Her thumbs rotating idly over one another as Frendsen finished reading the document.
“Okay,” he said. “Yes, right.” His finger hovered over a line of text. “Sorry, okay, yes. Yes, so, I’ve been contacted by my superiors—our superiors—and they would like to know if you believe yourself to be ready to be reassigned for training?”
“Training?” Amy enquired, raising an eyebrow.
Frendsen nodded. “We’re reassigning you to a new division, very different work from what you’ve already been trained for.”
“Oh,” she replied. “What about Josh?” 
“He’s still too sick to move, but we have begun the process of rousing him from the coma.”
“Will I be able to see him when he wakes up?”
“No, we don’t know when that will be.”
Amy nodded. 
“If you do decide that you are ready to leave,” he began, “you will leave at the end of the day.”
“I am ready.”
“Good,” Frendsen replied with a smile. “Dismissed.”
*
Amy’s slumber was broken as the door to the cockpit on board the Condor slid open. A small sliver of celestial light slipped through, bathing the approaching dark figure in silver hues. It only took this person two steps to reach Amy’s seat. They crouched in front of the young Spartan and looked up. Amy saw a middle aged women with dark skin like her own. Her eyes were shimmering hazel.
“How are we doing?” She asked.
“Good, ma’am,” Amy replied as she straightened up. “Anxious to return to Onyx.”
A small smile formed on the end of her mouth. “We won’t be returning to Onyx, unfortunately.” A pause. “At least for the time being.”
“Ma’am?” Amy asked anxiously.
“Nothing to worry about,” the woman replied. “There’s just something we need done before we can get there.”
“Okay,” Amy whispered.
The woman stood up and headed back to the cockpit. She turned back to Amy as she pressed the door button. “Over there,” she said, nodding, “is your new armour. Suit up. Code’s 3211. There’ll be a briefing in a few minutes.”
Amy turned her head to look at the large case at the base of the Condor. She got up and headed towards the armour. Small beads of sweat had begun to appear on the back of her neck as she wandered over.
As she stood in front of the case, she realised it stood at almost seven feet tall: much larger than the SPI armour she had used prior. Amy looked over for the keypad and upon finding, dialed in the code. The front hissed and steam erupted from the sides, Amy raised a hand to shield herself from it. 
When it finished, what stood in front of her was a pristine set of armour. It was delicately coloured gunmetal, with a maroon finish. A small camera had been installed on the right side and the visor was much smaller than the old SPI helms. 
The woman who had briefed her came out again, only this time clad in similar armour. 
“What do you think?” She asked as she headed towards Amy.
“Kurt had a similar set in his office,” Amy replied, a small hint of nostalgia crept into her voice.
“He did,” the woman replied. “I’m surprised he still keeps it on display.”
“He doesn’t, not really. He’d only brin—,” Amy paused for a moment. “How do you know that? Who are you?”
The woman laughed. “I’m Adesuwa,” she began. “Adesuwa-A142, officially. I was like you. I’m just from the first class.”
“Kurt never spoke about you,” Amy said absentmindedly. “Most we ever heard was whispers from the trainers who washed out from your class.”
Adesuwa sighed. “I can’t say I blame him.”
Amy looked at her new colleague before turning back to the armour. “I don’t know how to get this on.”
“Don’t worry, there’re technicians here.” 
Moments later, several technicians approached from the cockpit. They meticulously helped Amy get into her new armour. In minutes, her emaciated body was replaced by a hulking mass of armour. As she placed the helmet on herself, she began to breathe rapidly. Deep, hulking breaths that did more harm than good.
“Amy,” Adesuwa said, “listen to me. Take one big inhale and then exhale slowly.”
Amy listened. Within seconds her breathing had returned to normal.
“That’s normal,” Adesuwa reassured her. “I remember my first time in MJOLNIR.”
“This is MJOLNIR?” Amy asked awestruck. She rotated her hands, taking in as much of the armour as possible. “Like Kurt?”
“Like Kurt.” Adesuwa looked over Amy, a glint shimmered gently in her eyes. “You’ll get used to it.”
Amy nodded.
“Attention,” the intercom said cutting Amy before she could speak. “They’re ready to brief you.”
“Come on,” Adesuwa said as the pair of Spartans headed to the cockpit.
Amy was surprised by how spacious the cockpit of the Condor was. Two Spartans in full Mjolnir were comfortably able to fit in alongside two technicians and the pilots. In the middle of the dashboard, a hologram appeared. In it stood a man in an Army uniform, the insignia of a colonel on his lapel.
“How’s the new recruit doing?” He asked Adesuwa.
“She’ll be fine, sir,” Adesuwa replied.
“Good,” the man turned to Amy. “I’m Colonel Ackerson.”
“It’s a pleasure, sir.”
“Likewise,” Ackerson said. 
The colonel’s avatar was replaced by a large schematic. 
“This,” Ackerson began, “is the UNSC Aeneas. It’s a repair and refitting station. It’s the only one we’ve got left in the Outer Colonies.”
Amy squinted intensely at the schematic. She was unfamiliar with the design and layout of such stations.
“Two days ago, we lost contact with her,” the screen changed again. This time it was a lush green forest world. “This morning, we finally found her.”
Ackerson’s avatar finally reappeared on the hologram. “This is Mamore.”
Adesuwa sighed, irritated. “Again?”
“Again,” Ackerson replied, turning to face the older woman. 
Amy turned her head from Ackerson to Adesuwa and back again.
Noticing Amy’s confusion, Ade responded. “Alpha Company took part in a counter-insurgency op there way back when.” Her body slumped. “Hoped I’d never have to go back.”
“Unfortunately you do,” Ackerson said, finally bringing the conversation back on topic. “As I’m sure you’re acutely aware, those on Mamore do not care for the UNSC or its war effort.”
“Meaning?” Amy asked.
“Meaning,” Ackerson mimicked, clearly agitated, “you two have to go in alone.”
“What’s the mission?”
“It’s simply, we deny the Insurrectionists the opportunity to use it. Take it back if possible.”
“Christ,” Adesuwa mouthed.
“Are we going EVA to the station?” Amy asked.
“No,” Ackerson replied. “This condor is going to drop you several kilometres from the spaceport the Aeneas is currently orbiting. You are to neutralise any hostiles you find there and use whatever means you can to reach the station. When you do, call for us and we will send support to get it out.”
The pair nodded.
“I’m going to be curt with the two of you,” Ackerson said. “We can’t afford this to go wrong in any capacity. We're stretched across all fronts. The last thing we need is a concerted rebellion on Mamore.”
“Understood, sir.” Adesuwa replied.
“Good luck, Spartans. Get it done.” 
Ackerson saluted. Adesuwa and Amy returned it as the hologram dissipated. 
“Okay,” Adesuwa said. “Let’s get to work.”
*
The two armoured Spartans shuddered as the Condor completed its landing upon the surface of Mamore. The front hatch began to recede, allowing Amy to see the first few natural rays of sunlight in weeks. 
The pair headed out. “We’re going to wait a few minutes,” the pilot buzzed in Amy’s earpiece. “We want to make sure the innies didn’t track us on our way done.”
“Stay safe,” Adesuwa said.
“Thanks,” the pilot replied. “Good luck, we’ll see you soon.”
Adesuwa began sprinting into the forest, Amy followed behind clumsily. She almost tripped over an exposed root.
Adesuwa chuckled. “I wish we could take this slowly; get you adjusted.”
“I’ll be fine,” Amy said grimly. “I’ll be more careful.”
A green light flashed on Amy’s HUD.
The forest on Mamore was eerily devoid of life. She had expected there to be cacophonous noise from the trees. She was unused to silence. Amy’s body tensed as she continued following the Spartan in front of her. 
“Hey, Mar-,” Amy began as she looked behind her, but the word died in her throat before finishing.
“Huh?” Adesuwa asked.
“Nothing.”
“Stay focused.”
Amy nodded as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Her footsteps began to feel a heavier, and her armour constricting.
Adesuwa’s raised hand dulled those thoughts from her mind. Amy crouched beside her, and scanned the foliage ahead of her. 
“What is it?” She enquired.
“That house,” Adesuwa began, “up ahead.”
“Innies?”
“I think so.”
Adesuwa nodded left. Amy sprinted in the same direction, her DMR swinging madly in her arms. She trained her eyes occasionally back towards the house. Good, she thought, still in view. Amy found herself a small, rocky outcropping that faced the house directly.
“Andrew would approve,” she said. This time she ensured the com to Adesuwa was closed. 
Amy threw her rifle atop the rock before grabbing the ledge with her gauntleted hands. She took a deep breath and dragged herself up. Her body ached in response, but she pushed the pain to one side. 
Amy rolled over onto her abdomen, and slid the rifle up from behind her. She placed it snugly against her shoulder and used her HUD to zoom in on the house.
Amy keyed the com open. “I’m in position.”
“Understood,” Adesuwa replied. “What do you see?”
“One moment.”
Amy began to drag her scope along the house and turned on her thermal imaging. Four people.
“Four inside,” Amy said as she chewed her lip. “I can’t tell if they’re insurrectionists though.”
“They’re innies, trust me.” There was a pause. “I’m moving up.”
“Copy.”
Amy flicked off the thermal imaging and her coms, thoughts turning silently to Colin and Maria. The pair of them had instincts unparalleled by anyone else she had ever known. Her stupor was broken as one man walked across the lone window of the house. Amy’s hand hovered over the trigger, unwilling to fire. Remember what Ackerson said.
“Reached the house,” Adesuwa replied. “Moving to breach.” 
Amy watched Adesuwa move past the window where the man was standing. He hadn't noticed her, but something at the top corner of the house had caught Amy's eye. She trained her scope to the source of her distraction: a camera. Amy felt her heart rate begin to accelerate. They had to have seen her, she thought. 
“Ade, look out!” Amy shouted down her com. She had noticed one of the rebels inside the house had picked up a grenade launcher as the other three ran into the corner and huddled down.
“Ade, for god’s sake!” Amy screeched. 
A knot as heavy as iron formed inside Amy’s stomach. She had switched her com off. Adesuwa was blown back by the explosion, which ripped the door from its hinges.
Amy fired frantically. She caught the man with the weapon dead centre of his head. The three surviving insurrectionists ducked behind the ruined remnants of their building. One made a break for it, but caught a round in his leg from Amy. 
“Come on, come on,” she panted. “Make a move, you fuckers.”
The two left got up at the same time, and made a beeline deeper into the forest. Amy’s body began shaking violently, her aiming reticule jittering all across her field of vision. She took herself up to one knee to steady herself. 
“Deep breath,” she said. She inhaled and exhaled sharply, and pressed the trigger. It caught the lagging rebel in the back and he dropped quickly. The final rebel was in her sights, but when she fired she was met with the click of an empty magazine.
“Fuck!” She screamed to the heavens. 
Amy jumped down and sprinted towards Adesuwa’s position, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The corners of her vision darkened slightly and her head began to feel sickeningly nauseated. 
She looked through the debris and singed foliage looking for Adesuwa in a panicked frenzy, before finally finding her underneath a fallen tree. Amy collapsed to her knees next to the ailing Spartan. She took off Adesuwa’s helmet and pressed her hand to her throat.
“Alive,” she said. The knot in her stomach began to loosen. 
“Come on, come on,” Amy beseeched as she tried to rouse the Spartan back into consciousness.
Suddenly, Adesuwa’s eyes shot open and she coughed and spluttered. 
“What happened?” She said weakly.
“Innies got the jump on you.”
“Shit,” she whispered. “Did you get them all?”
Amy failed to respond immediately.
“Amy!” Adesuwa prodded.
“N-no,” she said quietly.
“It’s okay,” Adesuwa replied after a few moments of contemplation. “We can still fix this.”
An explosion rocked the tops of the trees, and both Spartans looked to find a new sun erupt in the sky. The shockwave sent both Spartans sprawling to the ground, bits of molten metal and debris landing on top of them. Amy struggled to shield the helmetless Adesuwa from the worst of it.
“What the fuck was that?” Adesuwa snapped.
“Mayday, mayday!” The Condor’s pilot buzzed in Amy’s ear.
“Oh god…” 
“What is it, Amy?”
“The Condor’s been hit.”
“Ah, Christ.” Adesuwa replied. The knot in Amy’s stomach returned, constricting her ever tighter.
===Part Three===