Halo: Trepidation [Halo|Sci-Fi|AU|Closed|IC]

[Anowa]

Halo: Trepidation

Act 1: A One Way Ticket

>>OOC<<

SSG M. Mobuto
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

As the Staff Sergeant strode into the room, he took in the sights, seventy five soon to be filled empty seats. Déjà, her appearance was fittingly that of either Bellona or Athena, he never bothered to ask which. All he knew was that it was some form of ancient goddess, and given the hoplite helmet resting upon her head it was likely one of war.

Then there was Halsey, the mastermind behind the project, their eyes met for a moment, before her eyes flicked to the rest of his uniform. It wasn't very often the collection of medals on his chest felt heavy, but today was a day like that. Today was the day that he and Halsey signed a little over six dozen kids to a life of warfare. Every fiber of his being screamed out to do something, but each one simultaneously told themselves that it had to happen. He'd seen the projections, these kids were the last hope to keep humanity whole. No matter how immoral it may seem.

Halseys's conversation with Déjà, was something he was intently listening to. And once again he found himself agreeing with the Doctor. Better to let them know the truth, or rather leave it vague, let them figure it out on their own. At least there would be less backlash that way.

The woman spoke her words, the first ones for the rest of the children's lives, "Bring them in now."

The man on the outside confirmed the order, and Mobuto's eyes locked to the door. And it opened.

---

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours
Tired, cold, confused. Those were all things that Ingrid currently felt. But most of all she was scared. She didn't know what was going on, all she knew was that strange men woke her up and she fell back asleep. Then she got really cold, and then she woke up in a metal case before being herded into uncomfortable clothing and marched... here. Wherever here was.

But at least she wasn't alone, it was obvious that other children were involved with whatever boat they were now in. Especially now that they were all being herded into an auditorium with an equal amount of soldiers guiding them. It was terrifying, she didn't know what they all had done wrong. But with the man at the front, with more medals than her father did, and with a black uniform. She remembered her father's remarks on a man with a black uniform, 'They're either there to put you in jail for a very long time, or get you out.' Ingrid didn't feel as if it were the former case. Quite the opposite.

As the children around her, as well as herself, were roughly seated. The woman at the front straightened.

She spoke, in a voice much like her mother's firm, yet soft, like she was on the verge of scolding you, but wishing for you to do better at the same time. "As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II."

There were very few words that Ingrid understood in their entirety, her English wasn't the best all things considered, but she got the gist of it, the UNSC was involved, and all of them had been conscripted. A word her father threw around a lot. Now she was definitely scared. She didn't want to go to war, she wanted to go back to school, with her friends, her family.

The woman took a step forward, "You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained." A pause, "And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies." The woman's eyes locked with Ingrid's own. Her upper lip defiantly remaining as stiff as a board. The woman's eyes flicked elsewhere, "This will be hard to understand, But you cannot return to your parents."

Ingird's lip started trembling at that moment, as her heart leapt into her throat. She wanted to go home, but despite her unending want to stand, to run out of the room. Both her own fear and the Handler's grip on her shoulder prevented her from doing anything of the sort. Judging from the atmosphere of the room changing so much she wasn't the only one to feel this way.

The woman continued, "This place will become your home. Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it... Rest now, we begin tomorrow." She turned to the man beside her and spoke in a hushed voice.

The man in turn nodded and spoke in a gravelly tone, "Fall out!"

The handler's ushered all the children out with little ceremony. It wasn't a very long walk, but it was through the late day air. And then into what Ingrid recognized as a barracks. It took ten minutes to get everyone into their cots and ready to actually sleep. And when the handlers finally left, a few children started to silently let out the waterworks.

---

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

Ingrid awoke to pain, and not the slight kind one gets if they sleep in the wrong position. It was the kind one got when they had roughly 500,000 volts scream through their nervous system. Ingrid didn't have the energy to scream as every muscle fiber in her body seized. Tongue, diaphragm and all. And just as sudden as it started it stopped.

A voice that may as well been thunder got her into the mindset of the rest of her life, "Wake up Trainee!" Needless to say, the threat of the Stun Baton got her up rather quickly. All around came similar responses from the 74 other boys and girls who had been delivered the same fate.

The man in front of her was familiar, the same one who stood beside the woman last night. His voice rang out above all the other commotion in the large communal bedroom, "I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouths I want to hear when you address us is 'Sir'!" Ingrid had just barely managed to catch her breath before more bad news came her way, "If you fail to meet these conditions!" once again, half a million volts tore through Ingrid, this time she gave a pitiful whimper as she seized her way to the floor. "Than you will become acquainted with the business end of a stun baton. Keep in mind that they are currently on their lowest setting!"

Ingrid's eyes nearly popped out of her skull at that announcement, 'Lowest setting!? What the fuck!' She kept that little train of thought internal, if her father heard her swear that badly she'd get the belt. If... Mobuto heard. Well, she didn't want to find out.

"Showers are yonder!" He directed his baton over to a tiled opening, "You will wash and then return here to dress!" He looked down at Ingrid, "Double time!" Ingrid would openly admit she had never moved faster prior to that point in her life. Twice was enough for one morning, she suddenly had a sympathy for the unruly cattle she and her mother dealt with back home.

The showers were... odd. To say the very least. Ingrid felt oh so uncomfortable in the cold soapy water, with 74 others crammed into an area which gave less than four feet in any direction to move. The fact that last night gave mention to this being the rest of their lives made the Harvest native aware that the space would only get smaller as they grew. She shuddered to think how much worse it would get... especially since... Well, she understood what animal husbandry was. It didn't take too big of a leap in logic to make a connection to humans.

Regardless he made her way, wet and cold, to her bunk. Dressed in thick undergarments, itchy wool socks, sweats, and boots that fit her perfectly. Admittedly the boots were rather comfortable.

Mobuto rang out again, "Outside trainees! Five rows of fifteen!... Move with a purpose!"

Ingrid moved. The threat of what correlated in her mind with attempted murder looking over her head still. The exterior of the facility was rather pretty in this light, the mountains in the distance silhouetted by the only just rising sun. The stomping of the others, followed, as did the inherent presence of overcharged cattle prods. Miraculously, the assembled children managed to not mess up simple math.

Mobuto was the last out, and set himself dead ahead of the new recruits, his voice echoed across the small field, "Jumping jacks! Count off to one fifty-"

One poor unfortunate soul voiced his concerns immediately, "Sweet Jesus! how man-" He was cut off by an instructor repeatedly slamming the baton into him. At least six times. The child was hauled back up into a standing position despite his spasms and vocalizations of pain. In a so far uncharacteristic display, Mobuto gave a moment of respite.

Though he swiftly moved on, the boy in the corner still recovering from his sudden onset of electroshock therapy, "Moving on! One- Two- Three-..."

[Ormata]

Cadet Baburin-048
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

Baburin remembered hands. Rough hands, too, the kind a worker had after too long of a day. He remembered rough skin brushing against the back of his neck, waking him. He’d always been a light sleeper. But then there was something else. He’d been opening his eyes when that sharp feeling came, the kind that came with an injection. Then he remembered his eyes becoming heavy, the rustle of fabric in the background, and more sleep.

There had been a case, metal. He remembered being told to get into clothing that was rough, uncouth, and being herded. There were others, too, about his age, Baburin reckoned. Most looked to be as confused, and as sleepy, as he felt. Baburin didn’t see any crying, though. No tears, there was just...confusion. Lots and lots of confusion, squinted eyes against lights that seemed too bright and faces that never fully formed until you moved on.

They were brought into an auditorium, with soldiers and men in black uniforms. Baburin did not recognize it, yet the black uniform never boded well. He knew that. A woman in front said something.

"As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II."

Conscription. Naval Codes. Spartan? Baburin was unsure of the first, did not know the second, and the third brought-forth the image of soldiers of old, standing in line with a cliff on one side and the water on the other. The old videos spoke highly of the Spartans.

The woman took a step forward, "You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained." A pause, "And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies. This will be hard to understand, But you cannot return to your parents."

No going back. Only moving forwards. The Handler’s grip on Baburin’s shoulder told him this. There was no turning away. This was how things would be. This was how things were always going to be. His mind briefly turned to maybes. Maybe he could run. Maybe he could bite. But maybes were worthless and cheap, and Baburin stared at the woman. No going back. Only moving forward. That was how things would be.

"This place will become your home. Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it... Rest now, we begin tomorrow."

Family...could a stranger become family. Could hugs become normal? Could he feel close to another? These questions were cheap, too, and Baburin felt confident in stating that the iron will this woman had told him that they could. There was certainty, there, a hard place.

The man, then, spoke in a gravelly tone, "Fall out!"

And then they moved. They walked for a short time to a building, one Baburin could recognize as a place his father once slept. A barracks. Soldiers lived there. They would become soldiers. Yet soldiers were hard men and women, people who did not smile and did not flinch. Would that be them? Baburin did not know.

And then they slept, and he could hear the tears fall.

---

Cadet Baburin-048
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

There was pain. That was what he remembered waking up to. Hundreds of volts moving through him, and his muscles seizing-up and becoming tense. Baburin remembered opening his mouth, before the muscles of his jaw went taut, too. People yelled for them to get up, and Baburin moved.

A man walked forwards, the one who had told them to fall-out prior.

"I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouths I want to hear when you address us is 'Sir'! If you fail to meet these conditions!"

One of the men stuck a stun baton into the gut of another trainee, forcing her to the ground. There was a whimper, small in the midst of the electrical noise.

"Than you will become acquainted with the business end of a stun baton. Keep in mind that they are currently on their lowest setting!"

Oh, was Baburin’s first thought, followed by several thoughts that he definitely paused in the middle of. Electricity was something he never did like, and these guys enjoyed it. There was the incentive, most definitely, to not screw-up. For a brief second he wondered about human rights violations.

"Showers are yonder!" He directed his baton over to a tiled opening, "You will wash and then return here to dress! Double time!"

Baburin ran with them, showering with the others. There was so little space, so, so little space. It felt almost like the streets, crammed and crowded but without the comfort of actually being in clothing. Without the normality that came from the simple street. They definitely weren’t human. Definitely not. Then they came to their bunks, and Baburin dressed. The clothing felt warm, with wool socks that reminded him of home and boots that fit. They fit perfectly, unlike those that father always bought from the store because they were half off and because Baburin would eventually grow into them. You’ll be moving, said a little voice in Baburin’s head, have fun. The little voice wasn’t wrong.

They got into their five rows of fifteen, moving-out and running. The sun was rising, in the distance, just peeking out over the clouds. Baburin didn’t look. His face was looking ahead, matching the beat of the rest, the simple beat into the ground. He didn’t want to be the screw-up. He didn’t want to be the failure.

The group came to a field, and Staff Sergeant Mobuto yelled, "Jumping jacks! Count off to one fifty-". One kid didn’t keep his mouth shut, started to say how. A cattle prod came, and he went into convulsions. A Handler came and put him up into the standing position. The lesson wasn’t lost on Baburin.

"Moving on! One- Two- Three-..."

[FelrikTheDeleted]

Cadet Jones (Hatman)-022
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

Jones Mavrick Hatman was weary, for days he had been placed within a ship by men in black suits, day after day he sat crying for his parents. His parents never replied to his pleas however. Eventually he had stopped and looked around the small area that was his living quarters. Simple was all he could say, very simple and very bland colouring. That was what he had remembered about the last few days of his adolescent life. To top it off he was knock out and placed within a metal container. A couple hours later he and plenty of other adolescents were herded out of these metal boxes and into uniforms.

As of now he was standing in a room that look like a classroom, surrounded by a number of different children. They were roughly seated. At the front was a large man and a fairly pretty woman. With a air of superiority the woman began talking.

"As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II." Her voice was firm, but it held a certain tone that made it warming.

The woman took a step forward.

"You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained." She paused, "And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies." The woman's eyes proceeded to lock with a girls and then the woman's eyes flicked elsewhere, passing many others, "This will be hard to understand, But you cannot return to your parents."

Hatman couldn't really say he was saddened with the idea of never seeing his parents again. His parents were extremely distant from him. No love was shared between the three. They merely saw a leech that they had to tolerate for 18 years.

The woman continued, "This place will become your home. Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it... Rest now, we begin tomorrow." She turned to the man beside her and spoke in a hushed voice.

The man in turn nodded and spoke in a gravelly tone, "Fall out!"

They were soon ushered from the room, they soon found themselves in a barracks, everyone was assigned a cot. Eventually the care takers left and all the children made their way into the beds. Hatman listened to the others crying before he soon fell to sleep.

---

Cadet Jones (Hatman)-022
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours
Like many others Hatman awoke to excruciating pains. Only a couple of seconds ago, he was electricuted via Shock Baton. Unfortunately, the large amount of electricity that currently traveled through his body, kept him from letting any kind of scream out, everything was hurting. It was at this moment that he realised he was on the floor. Hatman then noticed a man approaching, this man carried a shock baton. And with such a realisation Hatman quickly pulled himself off the floor.

Once he had look up he noticed a man in black, the man from before. The one that had fallen them out.

"I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouths I want to hear when you address us is 'Sir'! If you fail to meet these conditions!" He had only heard that before a girl dropped to the ground as half a million volts tore through her body. "Then you will become acquainted with the business end of a stun baton. Keep in mind that they are currently on their lowest setting!"

"Thats the lowest setting, God help us!" Thought Hatman was mildly surprised.

Showers are yonder! You will wash and then return here to dress!" The looked down at the girl who seemed to continually be at the centre of attention. "Double time!".

With this Hatman and the other adolescents were led like cattle into a shower, they were cramped into this room and showered with cold soapy water.

Eventually the water was turned off, they were all directed to the barracks. There they found a uniform, with a purpose Hatman pulled the cloths on. And soon they were directed to a training ground by Sgt. Mobuto.

"Jumping jacks! Count off to one fifty-" Shouted Sgt. Mobuto as he was interrupted.

"Sweet Jesus! how man-" Called the interrupter as he was then interrupted by a shock baton to the stomach, what followed was bouts of pain and spasms for the unlucky interrupter.

Mobuto soon moved on however. "Moving on! One- Two- Three-..."

And so began the torture.

[Cressageland]

Cadet 032: KEENAN, RORY
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

Rory was, somewhat suprisingly, willing to go along with his being taken from his parents. Despite his young age, he'd been away from home plenty of times before. Usually someone let his parents know where he was. In fact he'd been told that as he grew, his trips out with the cadet corps would increase. Rory assumed this was one of those trips.

At least he did until he woke up in a box. A metal box. With hindsight, he'd later realise that a cage was more appropiate a term, but at the time it didn't seem that way. Even though he realised *something* was off at this point, he still thought that it was just an ordinary trip. That ended when he realised that something was seriously wrong. Were these children and soilders to be his new family?

Being herded into an auditorium was never on the cards for his trips away, and never with so many stern looking soliders. Somewhat dazed, he didn't quite hear the whole speech, although he did hear the crucial words '...conscripted into the UNSC...'. This whole thing had suddenly become more serious, although he did like the idea of 'And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies", the though was only there for a moment before he realised he would never see his parents again. His tired mind nearly broke then, but he held it together until he got to his cot. Then he began to cry, although quietly

Cadet 032: KEENAN, RORY
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 0530 Hours

He'd assumed the whole thing had been a dream until he heard another cadet scream. He looked over and saw a girl writing in her cot as a solider hit her with a baton. It certainly wasn't a dream any more as the Sgt. informed them all that the baton that caused that poor girl so much anguish was on its lowest settings, and that they needed to wash and get dressed. Didn't seem very family like to him

As he got dressed into his rough clothes and wierdly well fitted shoes, he was ushered out into the courtyard. 150 jumping jacks was the order, something higher (though not ridiculously) than Rory had done before, but the poor sod who questioned the order was hit with the Baton again.

Rory quickly started on his jumps

[Second Helghan Empire]

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

In a daze that began to clear rather fast Lukas was stunned more by the lack of his father than the strange place. That changed when the handler grabbed him gruffly by the collar and nearly drug him forward. Letting out a loud whistle, the same used by his father to call back and forth when out in fields Lukas received no whistle in return only a pop in the jaw and command to pipe down.

He did as told but continued to grow more and more frightened at the realization he probably wasn't going home. That was when a woman spoke. Lukas did his best to repeat her words in his head over and over again to memorize not only their meaning but also her voice. He felt certain she was as good as his new mother.

As soon as she mentioned they could not return to their parents Lukas began to protest and received another pop in the face and when he didn't stop there a solid punch to the gut knocked his breath out and returned him to his seat doubled over in pain.

As the woman continued Lukas listened. He didn't want a new home, he didn't want a new family he wanted the old ones. He wanted the sound of the breeze in the fields, the sound of his father cooking dinner and his mother sweeping the floor, he wanted the life he had not this new nightmare.

Shoved into a cot a short time later Lukas shivered. He wasn't cold, he was simply broken hearted. He wept silently into his pillow. Eventually exhausting himself and passing out.

---

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

Lukas was catapulted from his bed by the shock he was given. Collapsing onto the floor, he ached terribly and was almost unable to stand, till a similar pair of gruff hands placed him solidly on his feet. He had learned from his mistakes the previous day, his mouth remained solidly shut and he did as commanded without so much as a second guess. He did everything as quickly as possible all while trying to block out the surroundings. Surrounded by others his age he felt embarrassed at first but quickly got over it and did what he needed.

He joined the others in his exercises, making sure to memorize voices and sounds of individuals, especially Mobuto, to take his mind off the pain burning in his muscles.

Tears crept out of his eyes as the voices he was recalling slowly switched to those of his mother and father. He fought them back and continued on with the other children.

[Beiarusia]

Cadet Gillian-013
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2017, 2300 Hours

A devil in the night. The girl couldn’t remember much more than that; a man to be sure, but whose face was forgotten in the murky in-between of consciousness and sleep. She had been awake, too hot and too crowded in the little bed shared with her elder brother and younger sister, and had snuck outside to sit in the cool air on the front step of the house that was more a shack than a home. That was when the faceless devil approached her. The girl hadn’t been scared, only curious, and then nothing.

Cold.

Faint whispers of men.

A metal case like that of a casket.

And now…

Gillian stole a glance at the other children surrounding her. Boys and girls about her age, each with a rigid guardian and a firm hand to keep them still, she included. They had been led like cattle into a wide auditorium and forcibly seated in the rows closest to the stage where a woman stood above them with a stern looking man dressed in black at her side. Medals decorated the man’s chest so Gillian could only assume that he was a soldier, an assumption that she applied to every adult in the room. It only made sense to her foggy mind. The women looked over the odd assortment of children, her steeled eyes coming to rest onto each and every one of them, a sharp gaze that left Gillian feeling very much like a mouse under watch from a predatory hawk. It was only after this scrutiny that the woman spoke. ”As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II.”

The words might as well have been gibberish.

A step forward, closer to them all, and the woman continued. ”You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained.” A pause. ”And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies.”

Earth. A faraway place that seemed more myth than fact. Gillian had been told stories about how humanity had come to be, and how Earth was their home a long, long, long time ago. Second Base was so far removed that Earth (and the Inner Colonies in general) may well have been a bedtime story to entertain children. To Gillian what Earth was or represented meant little. It was simply too intangible a thought.

The woman then added, “This will be hard to understand, but you cannot return to your parents This place will become your home. Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it… Rest now, we begin tomorrow.”

The stern man with medals on his chest yelled out then. ”Fall out!”

The handlers ushered the children out from the auditorium and through nondescript halls to a barracks large enough to accommodate them all. Within minutes they were each assigned a cot and told rudely to sleep. Left alone and with the lights cut out a few muffled cries could be heard as the gravity of the situation finally came down. Confusion gave way to despair; despair to fear. Some allowed tears to fall; others were simply numb.

Gillian wasn’t sure what she felt.

---

Cadet Gillian-013
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2017, 0530 Hours

The faceless devil returned to Gillian that night. She was back home with her family: father and mother and grandpa and Harry and Ingrid. Everything was just as it had been. Except that he was there, the faceless wisp of a man, waiting at the edge with darkness creeping into the frame like tendrils grasping for perch. Gillian watched as the last rays of sunlight faded until only she and her family and the devil remained. Cold. Whispers. Steeled eyes like a hawk. Gillian was alone now, standing with the faceless devil, the woman watching from above like-

Terrible pain coursed through the girl’s body as the electrified baton was pressed to her exposed midriff. Her muscles tensed and she fell from the cot with a loud and unpleasant thud. The handler from the evening before stood over the girl with tool in hand. By the yells the others had likely been awoken in a similar manner.

A man stepped forward and addressed them all in a booming voice. ”I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouth I want to hear when you address us is ‘Sir’! If you fail to meet this conditions – A girl was electrified again to demonstrate a point. ”– then you will become acquainted with the business end of a stun baton. Keep in mind that they are currently on their lowest settings!”

Gillian had heard the man but hadn’t been listening too intently, having been too preoccupied in struggling to pick herself up off the ground and onto her knees. In doing so she accidentally brushed against the instructor’s leg and was immediately assaulted with another dosage of electricity. The baton was pressed against her longer than before and she was left on the ground with the instructor staring down at her with pure indifference.

Mobuto shouted as he pointed with his baton. ”Showers are yonder! You will wash and then return here to dress! Double time!”

Gillian had little reason to defy the man or his hounds and did her best to follow the others, having to practically force her legs to go after two painful shocks. The children were crowded in like sardines with barely enough room to stretch out their arms. Gillian was lucky enough to be in a corner and so had some small advantage as she washed herself. She at least had a wall as opposed to another person beside her. Cold and still a little wet, they dressed in simple attire and boots that was identical in every way before being ordered outside. Gillian was on the outside of the third row.

Jumping jacks! Count off to one fifty!” Mobuto ordered from where he stood some distance away. A boy opened his mouth and was violently punished with the baton that made Gillian, who dared not move to even watch, tremble slightly in apprehension.

Any longing for home had since been replaced with the need for survival.

[New Antonalia]

Cadet Gilbert-214
Epsilon Endari System, Reach, Military Reservation,
23/09/2517. 2300 hrs

Gilbert woke up feeling hazy and dazed. Last thing he knew he was running for his life through the streets and alley ways of New Mombasa, then he felt something sharp hit him in the back before losing all control over his muscles and hitting the pavement hard. He looked around, seeing dozens of other children around the same age as him, packed into an auditorium looking building like sardines, or like pigs awaiting to be led into the slaughterhouse. Each one wore a similar expression of fear, pain, and confusion, each one wondering where they were and what their purpose for being here was? To Gil, it was all to similar to how he wound up on Earth, men came in the middle of the night, throwing him from his bed, beating his parents to within an inch of their lives, and taking him away.

Next thing he knew, there was a woman walking on stage, she wasn't like the stone faced men who were stationed around the auditorium. She was dressed differently, and her attitude when she spoke gave her away, highly educated and a lot of money.

As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II."

Gil felt a tinge of panic run through him. "What does she mean?" He wondered. "Why would they need children, war is for grown-ups and older people." She continued to speak.

"You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained." A pause, "And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies." The woman's eyes locked with Ingrid's own. Her upper lip defiantly remaining as stiff as a board. The woman's eyes flicked elsewhere, "This will be hard to understand, But you cannot return to your parents."

"I don't want to fight." Gil almost squeaked, but restrained himself. He knew that if he did, there would be severe consequences. He didn't pay attention to the rest of the speech, his mind too restless with fear and panic to even bother. Next thing he knew, he was being herded out by the men watching over the children and sent to a large rooms with lots of beds. Being too tired to do anything else, Gil just went to a bed that had his name on it and went to sleep, quietly weeping, scared out of his mind.

---

Cadet Gilbert-214
Epsilon Endari System, Reach, Military Reservation,
24/09/2517. 0500 hrs

Gil found solace in sleep, his mind drifted away from the unhappy place he was in and back to memories of his mother and father. Their smiles, their voices, even the touch of their skin. But his sleep was interrupted by so much pain he couldn't scream, his pleasant dreams replaced by raw anguish. Before he even had a chance to register what was going on, the pain subsided and a voice could be heard though out the barracks.

"I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouths I want to hear when you address us is 'Sir'! If you fail to meet these conditions!"

He hit another trainee in the gut, forcing her to the ground, in what looked to him like sheer agony.

"Than you will become acquainted with the business end of a stun baton. Keep in mind that they are currently on their lowest setting!"

Gil didn't dare utter a single sound, even a breath, for fear of meeting the same fate as the girl.

Next thing he knew, he was running towards the showers, trying to keep himself from being trampled by the other trainees. He barely knew what a shower was, but what he did know was what would happen if he didn't at least look like he showered. He looked at what the other kids were doing, and followed exactly. At first the water came out freezing cold, causing him to yelp in surprise, but he knew he would have to get used to it. He then turned the water off and ran back to his bunk, where a pair of cloths waited for him. He put the cloths on and admittedly, he found them more comfortable than the cloths he had been wearing in New Mombasa. He couldn't even complain about the wool socks or combat boots.

"Outside trainees! Five rows of fifteen!... Move with a purpose!"

Gil ran as if his life depended on it and picked a random line to join, he wasn't used to the regimentation that this place demanded, nor did he think he would ever get used to it.

"Jumping jacks! Count off to one fifty-" The man yelled, his voice carrying over the field of trainees. One person made the mistake of sounding his opinion out of turn, and was met with the stun baton hitting him six times. Everyone else was silent and obeyed the orders the man gave.

"Moving on! One- Two- Three-..."

"What fresh hell have I arrived in?" Gil wondered as he did his jumping jacks.

[Newrey]

Cadet Johan-142
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

Despite being held within a dark cage with several other children, Johan had never felt more alone. Here he was, a nameless boy from the Outer Colonies taken against his will to some place in the middle of space. Hell, he ain't even sure he's on a planet. Maybe it was one of those platforms that had its own gravity that he had heard of? Regardless, he was surrounded by people he did not know and had a tall man firm grip on his shoulder, an almost painful grip. Soon, the room lit up as the herd of children were ushered into a meeting room, where an imposing figure of a woman stood at the head of the room. Forcibly seated, the lady began to speak;

"As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II." she began, with Johan raking his brain trying to understand what he had heard. UNSC? Kidnapping children? Clearly the Insurrection had become significantly harder to deal with if they were forced to bring children into the fighting.

"You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained." A pause, "And you will become the best we can make you. You will be the protectors of Earth and all her colonies." she continued, a faint sense of glee flickering inside of Johan. While he had never been to or even seen Earth before, he still considered it his ancestral home, as it was with all humans. If they were to truly fight for Earth, then sure that meant that they would have the privilege of seeing the homeworld of Humanity. While he couldn't agree with the methods, he most certainly could not deny the opportunity of visiting Earth was slightly tempting to completely fall in line with whatever the UNSC were offering.

""This will be hard to understand, But you cannot return to your parents." she added, however this was no big loss in Johans eyes. His mother was dead and his father was in jail because of it. The only family member he knew was free was his brother, and he could be anywhere in the galaxy by now, dead or alive.

"This place will become your home. Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it... Rest now, we begin tomorrow." A family? This was the one thing in his short life Johan had consistently been denied, so the opportunity to have one was...well....similar to the relief of finding a golden needle in a haystack. His happiness was short lived, however, when they were ordered to leave the room and head towards their rooms. Well, more of a barracks.

As Johan lay in his bed, he could hear the faint sobbing and crying of children, he had issues relating. He had spent most of his life in the foster homes and learned quickly that crying in ones bed was quickly seen as a sign of weakness among the older ones. Instead of joining in, Johan instead buried his head in his pillows and tried hard to block out the sounds.

---

Cadet Johan-142
Epsilon Endari System, Reach, Military Reservation,
24/09/2517. 0500 hrs

Johan's otherwise tolerable night sleep was quickly ruined when a painful shock tore through his body, causing his appendages to spasm uncontrollably and for him to get out, fall out rather, of bed, hitting the metallic floor with a thud. "The fuc-" he started as he began to stand up but couldn't finish, as another round of electricity ripped through him, sending him back onto his knees.

"Get up" a gruff and rather rude voice spat at him, with his hand grabbing Johan by the collar and lifting him onto his feet. As he was brought up, he heard the sounds of other children whimpering, destroying the little hope he had inside of him that this was just a dream. The point was further put across when what appeared to be the Big Boss Man began to speak;

"I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouths I want to hear when you address us is 'Sir'! If you fail to meet these conditions!" he didn't finish the sentence as he struck a young girl in the stomach with the baton, with Johan suppressing the urge to protest. It was quickly becoming clear to him that these instructors were not to be messed with [i]"Than you will become acquainted with the business end of a stun baton. Keep in mind that they are currently on their lowest setting!" Lowest setting??? Jesus Fuck, these instructors were not messing around when it came to discipline. "Showers are yonder!" Mobuto directed his baton over to a tiled opening, "You will wash and then return here to dress! Double time!"

Johan needed no second warning, before he effectively sprinted towards the shower doors and effectively fought with the rest of his less-than-willing peers for a spot in the shower. It was a crush getting them in here, and Johan only imagined that it would become harder and harder to fit everyone in at once as they grew up. Not to mention likely uncomfortable as well.

Finishing his shower, he returned to his bunk and was surprised to find neatly prepared clothing and boots waiting for him. This was likely the newest clothes he had had in years, and definitely the cleanest he'd ever had. As he put them on, he found the boots fitted with surprising comfort as though they'd already been worn-in and fitted precisely for him. The thought scared him, but maybe the UNSC had been planning this a lot longer than he thought. They were quickly rushed outside and formed up, with Mobuto shouting

"Jumping jacks! Count off to one fift-" he started, before he was cut off by a kid that obviously hadn't learnt his lesson during the warm up. The sound of repeated thumps only pushed the message across to Johan that messing with these instructors was like playing with death. Instead, he began sounding off his jumping jacks with the rest of the people around him.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Cadet Sandford-124
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

Susanna’s eyes flickered about the room, eager to understand her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was the cold chair she had been seated in; her thin clothes with a similar fabric to pajamas didn't help in the situation either. It had only been one of the unwelcoming parts of her initiation. The second thing she noticed was the man’s many medals, tacked onto his breast. She looked over the stripes and colors, the spray of red and white and gold, she noticed every imperfection in their designs. The girl shuffled in her seat, a poor attempt at comfort if any. Her eyes filled with wonder at all of the sights, in what was primarily a drab, gray room.

Soon enough, a woman with a motherly but firm voice appeared at the front of the room. "As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN-II."

What? What did that mean? What was a Naval Code? Susanna had a short idea of what “conscripted” could mean but wasn't terribly sure of herself. And SPARTAN. She certainly remembered the SPARTAN project from her days back in school, but the teachers had refused to elaborate much on it. She only wished she had pursued research into it more… but, her thoughts had been running on friends and a terrific fear of cooties. It all seemed to be very immature to her now. I’m practically an adult by now. She thought, almost smirking at herself.

The woman refused elaboration on her sentence, continuing on about something else. "This will be hard to understand, But you cannot return to your parents."

Susanna’s heart skipped a beat. Her lips opened in silent protest, but closed just as soon. She couldn't do anything. Her mother was gone. Shellshocked, the girl stared ahead. She had no time to run over the rest of what the woman said. No, that would be reserved for her dreams that night.

And so, as Susanna laid down on the stony bed, she stared up at the ceiling. Her bottom lip quivered, and the somber girl rolled over onto her right side. She could see some of the other kids from her position on the top of the bunk. She couldn't tell if any of them were crying. The girl’s eyes began to water, and she stuffed her face into her pillow to muffle her sobs.

***

Cadet Susanna-124
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hour

There were no dreams that night. Only darkness.

And then pain. Vibrant, blazing, electrifying pain.

Susanna’s eyes snapped open, veiny and scared white balls behind the eyelids. Her mouth opened, moving her tear-streaked cheekbones up. No sound forced its way out of her throat, the electricity flowing through her entire body.

They began to move.

The pain still stung at her. It was an unnatural hurt, not like scraping your knee or getting carpet burn. It was more akin to snapping the bone in your knee or being pushed off of a cliff. She still remembered the horrifying ecstasy, the weightlessness when she realized she was no longer in control of her body. They had to hold her down so she wouldn't end up kicking or clawing a handler.

They stood in rows, Susanna flanking some boy to her right and no one to her left. "I am Staff Sergeant Mobuto, the rest of these individuals who took it upon themselves to rouse you are your instructors! You will follow all orders that we give you to the letter! From here on out the first and last words out of your mouths I want to hear when you address us is 'Sir'! If you fail to meet these conditions!"

Susanna was scared, especially of the staff sergeant. The staff sergeants were above the regular sergeants; how much so, she did not know. But the girl was smart enough to know she had better listen to what Mobuto would say.

Susanna watched as one girl was struck with one of the stun baton, sending her down with a whimper. Susanna’s own stomach rolled over. The girl was smacked again, and Susanna looked away.

They moved to the showers, the most uncomfortable part of the experience for Susanna. She only stared at the floor as she cleaned herself.

They were put back into rows, more organized than before, and Susanna found herself in the same position as before. The boots she had on were the most enjoyable part of the experience. ”Jumping jacks! Count off to one fifty-”

A boy interrupted him. His punishment was harsh, harsher than the girl, harsher than the wake up call. He cried on the second hit, and Susanna’s eyes welled up on the fourth. She almost called out for them to ”Stop!”, maybe adding on a “Sir” at the end but her mouth did not open. She began her workout, just like the others, face turned away from the injured boy.

[Anowa]

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

She burned, every muscle in her limbs and chest wanted to stop, but she knew that would mean getting shocked to hell and back. She would rather turn into the noodle she no doubt would after this.

"...147-148-149-150!" The children collectively stopped, a few vomited. Ingrid had to jam her eyes shut to prevent herself from doing the same. "Next is sit ups!" the Staff Sergeant laid himself out in the ground as did a few of the more attentive -or masochistic- trainees. Ingrid had to will herself instead of doing it on instinct, her body didn't want to do anymore, it was at it's limit.

"First one to stop gets to run thrice around the compound, then gets to restart! Count off to one fifty, go! One- Two- Three..!"

Next was followed by an equal amount of squats, then an equal amount of push ups, before finishing with fifty burpees. Their trainer just kept slogging onward, like some sort of robot. And every child was forced to match his pace, like they themselves were expected to have the physical prowess of a seasoned veteran and -as Ingrid would later learn- one of their predecessors. She would not lie that she emptied her already nigh barren stomach onto the grass. But there was some respite.

"Rest! Trainers get the water!" The various instructors walked over to a collection of tables housing decent sized canteens. Handing them out -God willing they were in fact full- Mobuto continued, "On each canteen you have you number, and in case you didn't notice that same number is on your uniforms as well! This canteen belongs to you, and you only!"

Ingrid cracked it open and began to gulp the lukewarm liquid down. "Losing you canteen will result in severe punishment! On top of the fact that it will not be replaced! Keep it filled, with water, watery nutrient paste, urine! Whatever can keep you hydrated you fill your canteen with it! Because the moment you run out of water is the moment your clock to death starts ticking!" Ingrid found it slightly endearing, despite the hell they just went through, apparently their lead trainer did care enough to give them something to house fluid in. "Now everybody on your feet, we start jogging now!" ... Or not.

As the trainers began to ready their batons, the trainees -rubbery and tired as they were- herded themselves along towards the exit indicated by the Staff Sergeant. This was an opportune time to glance at the others, every one of them was soaked through with sweat... and in a very few cases more pungent fluids. the faces varied, either tired or determined, a few still looked scared, rightfully so however. The threat of whatever punishment Mobuto promised looming over them. More than a few held on to their canteens for dear life, Ingrid included.

The path they jogged along was scenic at the very least, wooden bridges, a river, a runway with aircraft stationed along it. A stone pathway that lead to another building.

This was a different building, more like the governor's house back home, the words: NAVAL OFFICERS ACADEMY were etched in the arch above the entrance. 'Well that's obvious.' Ingrid thought to herself, at least they knew the basis of what would happen here: Some form of learning.

As they were yet again herded into the building, where they were sat down in much more comfortable seating, the desks even had some crackers and a glass of milk laid out. Ingrid treated it like gold, seeing as it might as well have been. It was then that Ingrid noticed a woman standing at the front that she didn't before. And to her surprise the instructors filed their way out of the room.

For the next few moments it was silent.

"Hello children, my name is Deja, and I will be you teacher from here on out." Ingrid jumped when the woman shaped herself into what looked like a map. "Today we'll be going over the Battle of Thermopylae. Dated almost two thousand years ago, and the magnum opus of the original Spartans."

---

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

Deja finished her lesson, and Ingrid knew what they were meant to do, part of her was afraid, the Spartans died with a purpose, they held off the approaching horde of Persians so that their allies could protect their cities. And it worked. But on the other hand, they did die. Ingrid didn't know if it was a golden namesake, or a bad omen.

Regardless they were told they were dismissed back into the 'guiding hands of Staff Sergeant Mobuto'. Ingrid had to disagree on Deja's characterization of the man. In her mind he was a mean man, plain and simple.

Though when they exited the building to the sight of much fewer instructors. Ingrid was pleasantly surprised, maybe Deja's judgment was a bit more appropriate than she thought.

"Fall in trainees, we're headed to the Playground, it's a short jog. Let's move!" With that said, the children laxly fell in. The atmosphere was much less rigid than it was earlier, and Ingrid generally felt as if things were looking up, at least she'd be able to find some tree to rest under and think.

She was wrong.

'Short jog' was a roughly three kilometer walk. And the 'Playground' was what looked like a jungle gym straight from the twisted mind of Mobuto... In retrospect the man probably did think it was a playground.

"Trainees, your exercise here will be to make your way to the bell." He gestured towards a very obvious brass bell... about forty feet above the rather deep looking pool. At least they wouldn't die if they fell. "Last team to arrive will not be eating tonight! You will sort yourself into twelve teams of six! There will be three left over, who we will assign to three teams! Go!"

There was a moment of hesitation, before kids started milling about into random groups of six. Ingrid managed to remain with a group and wasn't one of the few odd ones out.

She looked around at her team, a slightly shorter and frizzy haired ginger, number 013; A blue eyed boy, 041... He seemed familiar; An average looking boy, 025; a lean -if homeless- looking boy, 214; and another northern featured boy, 142. The addition of Another boy, 004, made Ingrid the second tallest. Said taller boy was notably so, at least a few inches, along with a tad bit of lean muscle and bond hair, green eyes. He seemed rather scared though, despite his size. Ingrid decided to break the ice, "Hi, I'm Ingrid."

On the other side of the little clearing, Mobuto witnessed the collection of, Subjects 124, 017, 032, 022, 063, and 048 be introduced to Subject 234. The man knew that letting them get to know one another would be best for unit cohesion, he'd let them mingle, come up with a plan if need be. Then the whistle would come out.

[Ormata]

Cadet Baburin-048
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

There had been very few times wherein Baburin just didn’t think. This would count as one of them. Over the last grueling...time period, he had simply done. By the time the water had been passed-out, it had seemed like an eternity, and his breath was ragged, flagging, a mess. Baburin didn’t much like that. He remembered running, and he remembered the praise heaped onto him. This was worse. This was deadly; he had nearly thrown-up three times. Fourth time was the last. It did not take a genius to understand that.

"Trainees, your exercise here will be to make your way to the bell." He gestured towards a very obvious brass bell... about forty feet above the rather deep looking pool. At least they wouldn't die if they fell. "Last team to arrive will not be eating tonight! You will sort yourself into twelve teams of six! There will be three left over, who we will assign to three teams! Go!"

Teams. Teams. Teams. Baburin met with a few of them, on the uniforms the numbers 124, 017, 032, 022, 063, and 234. One-twenty-four was a taller girl, 17 a Mediterranean, 32 a broader, still tall, kid, 22 another well-physiqued person, and 63 a Northern girl. This was his team, and Baburin nearly took a step back as he looked them over. No, that wasn’t the way to do it, said a little voice, now how do you get to the bell.

“Baburin,” he said to them, frowning as he nodded. “Nice run.” The run had been horrendous.

He sucked-in his cheek, looking at the “Playground”. Looked more like a mess. A massive pool was there, above it a brass bell. How the hell would they get to the brass bell. Climbing ropes, perhaps? Baburin frowned again.

[Second Helghan Empire]

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

Lukas vomited pure bile more than once during the exercises early that morning but each time he did so he felt a little better and managed to finish through still breathing. He had been so grateful for the water when he got it he swallowed till his chest hurt.

Following the group Lukas was surprised when they arrived at the academy building. He hadn't expected to be taught like in school. He had expected even less that Deja would be the one that taught them. He really enjoyed the lesson, and remembering they were in the Spartan II program, Lukas wanted to be like the warriors at Thermopylae badly.

---

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

Lukas saw the bell and was happy to be given the chance to meet the other kids. He wanted badly a friend now being taken from his home. He found himself naturally pulled into a random group, one including Numbers 13, 4, 25, 214, 142, and 45, a taller girl with similar physical appearance to himself, who spoke first out of them. Lukas nodded in response to her, as he wasn't sure if she introduced herself to the whole group.

"So we are a team. That's good, we can help each other then, I think this is going to be harder than this morning was for some reason."

[Cressageland]

Cadet Keenan, Rory-032
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

Rory finished his jumping jacks winded, more winded than he'd even been before, and his muscules felt like they were fire, but he was still standing. He didn't care to look around, but he heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting around him. He assumed the excerise was over, at least for a few minutes, but almost immediately he heard the instructor again.

""Next is sit ups!",

With a unsaid groan, Rory got onto his back. Sit ups were nothing new to him, and he assumed there wouldn't be that many after the amount of jumping jacks he'd just done...

"First one to stop gets to run thrice around the compound, then gets to restart! Count off to one fifty, go! One- Two- Three..!"

Rory groaned internally again. This certainly wasn't like school.

After that it was squats, after that it was squats and push-ups, 150 of each, and then 50 burpees. Rory had always been the best at sports at school, and he was putting in an admirable performance here, but at the end of the burpees his body betrayed him and he vomited. He prayed to god that that was it, and he was somewhat answered when the drill sgt's. handed out water canteens.

Rory's was handed to him. The people handing them out, although putting up a stubborn effort to hide it, were clearly somewhat shaken by the experience. Who wouldn't be, dozens of kids working more physically than a prime adult could be expected to? Not that the kids noticed this brief crack in the facade of the guards. Some where too busy keeled over vomiting (or at least trying to), some like Rory couldn't see through the tears as he looked to the sky with his head thrown back.

The Sergeant explained the canteens importance, Rory was all too familiar with the military's insistence on holding onto things and, equally, on staying hydrated. He'd never been told to drink his own urine however, and at the time he couldn't comprehend it. Even so, the water was a almost miraculous reprieve from the torture his body had just undergone. As he drank, he ran his thumb over the raised, metal numbers. '032'. He made a mental note to ensure that no-one else lost their canteen, and if they did to share his.

'032'. His new identity, although he couldn't know that yet.

As soon as they were finished, the instructor told them to get jogging to their next destination. Rory was able to keep pace reasonably well, although he was drenched in sweat. Looking ahead of him he saw everyone else was as well, some of them more than sweat. He grasped his canteen tightly, and he kept an eye out to make sure everyone else did as well.

The kilometres went by. Runways, bridges, rivers went by until they ended up on a stone path to a building with a sign above it signifying it was a naval academy.

The children were ushered into a classroom unlike any he could recall being in, although he'd seen pictures of them on television. When he got to his seat, he began to wolf down the milk and cracker that had been provided, it was the first meal he'd had since he got here, and he valued it. He was so busy valuing it in fact he didn't notice the instructors had left and been replaced with a woman, or at least he thought it was a woman, since after explaining that they were to be taught about the battle of Thermopylae, she turned into a map. Rory was too tired to both pay attention to the lesson and wonder why that would be, so he focused on the lesson. He didn't want to upset the instructors with bad grades.

Cadet Keenan, Rory-034
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

The lesson was over, but Rory hadn't quite made the mental connection between the SPARTAN program and the Spartan's themselves, although that would be made later.

As soon as the lesson was over, Sergeant Mobuto lead the children to the 'playground'. The three mile jog was hardly the short distance described, but Rory was still keen to get to the imagined utopia he had built the playground as in his mind.

Trusting in his superior, Rory was slightly upset when he found out it was just another exercise. 'Get into teams of six and then get to the bell' was the order. Rory found himself in a team with five other spartans. Using a trick he'd used back at school on his first day (taught to him by his father), he asked for their names and mentally identified one trait about them.

His team was made of:

048 was tall and pale.

017 was jumpy and quick.

022 seemed to keep to himself and had brown hair.

063 had strikingly blue eyes and white hair.

124, even from just looking Rory could see she was sharp mentally.

"I don't think any of us have spoken yet, my number is 032 but my name is Rory, whats yours?"

Without giving time for a response, Rory announced his plan for winning the task

"It seems to me that the only way we're getting up to that bell is as a team, who here is the tallest and who here is the strongest?" He grinned briefly, and then returned to speaking. "height should be easy enough to find out, does anyone fancy an arm wrestle to see who's strongest?"

[New Antonalia]

Cadet Gilbert-214
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

The rest of the mornings training was brutal beyond what he faced in New Mombasa. There, he would at least have time to rest, but here, Gilbert was sure he would die, whether it be exhaustion, the brutal treatments from the guards, or from dehydration. At least with that, he had a fighting chance. He would have died a long time ago if he hadn't learned to tolerate the taste of his own bodily fluids. But he wasn't sure he could even force him to do that at the Sgt. Mobutu's orders. But he had to in order to keep himself from being beaten to death with those shock batons so he had to do what was necessary to survive. He downed the water in the canteen and didn't even bother complaining, it was better than what he lived on, and provided another small ray of hope in his imprisonment.

When the order was given for them to start jogging, Gil made it his mission to be one of the first ones up, lest he suffered the consequences, though he felt that if they didn't stand everyone would be suffering for it. Much to his relief, everyone stood up eventually. ""Carrot and the Stick", though I suppose here it is "Stick and Shock Stick"." He muttered to himself as they started jogging. The route kept Gil interested, especially the building they were heading to. ""Naval Officers Academy", just another fancy way of saying lots of book learning." He thought, before realizing it was probably going to be the only chance for him to rest and regain his energy for the hell that would surely follow.

---

Cadet Gilbert-214
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

Gil sighed as the children marched back outside into Sgt. Mobuto's care, before jogging to a place called the "Playground", though he doubted Mobuto hadn't the slightest idea what the word even meant. This thought was further punctuated by the fact that short in Mobuto meant nearly three kilometers of uneven terrain before arriving at a veritable torture chamber.

"Trainees, your exercise here will be to make your way to the bell." Gil looked at the large bell hanging high above the swimming pool at the far end of the playground. "Last team to arrive will not be eating tonight! You will sort yourself into twelve teams of six! There will be three left over, who we will assign to three teams! Go!" Mobuto's words didn't faze him, he'd lived through hunger before, and to Gil, this was just a cheap ploy to break the cadets, or to weed out the weakest among them.

"Time to find a team that won't let me down." Gil thought as he weighed his options. He knew that only a team would make it, and this course would test everyone equally, so someone who was strong would be a good choice, but he also considered who looked the fastest, or the most nimble. He ultimately decided to walk to the girl he saw get hit with the baton earlier in the day. "Hey, 045." He said, reading the number on her PT Uniform. "I think it would be best if we teamed up."

He was afraid, more afraid of her, than he was of Mobuto. People let him down before, and he was sure that doing this was setting himself up for failure. But it became apparent when he first arrived here, everything would be different and he would be forced to work outside his comfort zone.

[Vacif]

Cadet Deimos-025
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

'Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe...!' was the only thing he could think of while doing the jumping jacks. An old friend had taught him that trick back on Cascade when they played manhunt. 'Just breathe, and don't stop moving.' It was funny to think that back at school, this was his favorite exercise. Something told him that he'd come to hate all forms of physical activity in the coming months. In no way shape or form had preschool, or first year prepared him for this amount of physical exercise.

"150!" Deimos stopped dead as he almost fell to his shaking knees. Hunched over, he gulped down as much air as he could. His lungs stung like they were allergic to air as he started to feel the aches of is arms, back and legs. Before he could properly recover, the staff sergeant barked out a new order. 'What're sit ups?' Deimos approached a small group of other kids who peered curiously at what the sergeant was doing. 'Oh! Well that looks easy.' however the queasiness he was feeling told him otherwise.

Granted 150 of anything probably would of been hell. What kind of self-hating person would make something like this? Well the answer was probably right in front of him, yelling at him. After finishing the last 50 bird bees, Deimos collapsed onto his back, overcome with a wave of nausea. The entire area smelled of sweat and throw up. Now he didn't want to admit it...but some of it was his. It didn't help that he didn't exactly have a good night's sleep either.

As he lay on his back, gulping down air through his dry and sticky mouth, he wondered idly what he'd have to do to get some water. Ask? He knew soldiers weren't exactly nice people, but from what he'd seen today, he was afraid to even look at one, let alone ask them for something.

"Rest! Trainers get the water!"

Or just wait for it. Deimos smiled weakly at the thought. 'This is the military, they know that people need water, especially after this. Especially kids...like us! They aren't dumb!' Deimos rolled off of his back, and gingerly rose from the ground, still incredibly sore from the squats. As he sipped his water, he listened to the Sergeant's speech. As the lukewarm liquid travelled through his system, he became increasingly aware of how valuable this piece of plastic and metal was, and just how valuable the water he was drinking could be. They may not get water in the future!

Of course no good thing ever lasts, and soon enough they were on their way to more exercise. When they entered the air conditioned room, he'd never been happier to be in school. The milk and cracker might as well of been .... something super amazing. But he was grateful for it none the less. Too hungry to savour it, he wolfed down the crackers and milk as he listened to the pretty light lady speak.

---

Cadet Deimos-025
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

Now he didn't quite fully understand everything that Deja had said, but he got the gist. What they were tasked with doing...that was a lot to ask, especially since they were kids, but he supposed the Spartans started off as kids too, so they had a chance right? 'I mean...we're...a lot of years more advanced than they were.' he reasoned to himself.

When dismissed and sent back to Morebudo, Deimos couldn't quite help but be skeptical. Adults had weird ways of saying things, and seeing as this was the military, they probably had a whole different meaning. Like how adult hot chocolate was really just coffee. Or like how "Running away" was basically the equivalent of being dead. Which probably what they would be if they tried running away.

As his lungs ached again as they ran to keep pace with the grizzled veteran, Deimos' skepticism was well warranted. It was a "Playground". Maybe for soldiers, but not quite for them...yet. Upon discovering that they had to climb to the top and ring the bell Deimos almost broke his silence and laughed. This of course would of costed him dearly. Instead, he silently backed into his team as he stared at the army grade jungle gym. Analyzing ever step, and detail. One of the girls, 045 introduced herself. Ingrid. She kind of looked like his old classmate Yvonne. "Deimos." he replied simply.

While he waited for the others to introduce himself, he began to think. The Spartans showed that they were a group, they worked together to be the best. Now they were in a team, facing something that might as well be impossible to them right now. Just like that story Deja had told them. Now hopefully they wouldn't di trying to accomplish the goal, but with that level of fall, there would definitely be some injuries. There were nets, poles, monkey bars, walls, rope, and tires. None of which looked exactly fun. This however wasn't his first team game. If school had taught him anything, it was that you needed everyone to work as a team. Everyone finishes. That or you get punished for being a bad sport. The last thing he wanted here was to be punished.

Missing the beginning of Gilbert's question, or rather who it was directed to, Deimos spoke up. "Well this is a team. So kind of have to team up. What's your name?"

[Beiarusia]

Cadet Gillian-013
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2017, 2300 Hours

“… 147… 148… 149… 150.”

Gillian fell to her hands and knees, retching but only managing a pitiful whimper as her muscles screamed in protest. Had her stomach not been empty she would have vomited as some others did. Never before had the girl been put under such stress. To think that the first dozen or so jumping jacks had almost been fun. Before the girl could fully recover the Staff Sergeant was calling out to begin the next exercise, and under threat of punishment Gillian forced herself to follow along. Every movement burned. Every breath hurt. By sit-up number 117 the girl was practically moving on determination alone. After sit-ups it was squats, then push-ups. Gillian’s arms gave out during the push-ups, and though spared a painful shock she was forced to run three times around the admittedly large compound before starting over. When they finally finished with the last of the exercises the girl was hardly able to move.

And then came the best words Gillian could ever hear.

“Rest! Trainers get the water!” the Staff Sergeant shouted as the various instructors handed out canteens filled with lukewarm water. Gillian tore off the cap with the last of her strength and downed half the canteen in one gulp, vomited because of her overzealousness, and tried once more with more controlled sips.

The canteen, engraved with the number 013, was hers and hers alone, and if lost would not be replaced. Gillian was hopeful that the Staff Sergeant was only bluffing and that he and his pack of hyenas wouldn’t allow any one of them to die of thirst, but after this morning she wasn’t all too willing to test her luck. She held her canteen close to her body. Protective. Afraid to lose it now. A few others were doing the same. Their only lifeline in a storm.

They jogged after a moment’s rest. Gillian, already spent from her earlier run, had difficulty keeping pace with the others, more so as she awkwardly cradled her canteen in her arms. At the very least the surroundings were beautiful, but given the torture Gillian was unable to appreciate the planet’s beauty. Too dazed. Unfocused. Drenched in sweat and ready to collapse. A stone pathway led them all to a more embellished building (as opposed to the barracks) which was quickly identified as the NAVAL OFFICERS ACADEMY if one were to believe the sign. Here they were herded inside to what appeared to be a classroom of sorts. Milk and crackers had been left out and Gillian, upon taking a seat near the back, hungrily scarfed it all down. Too fast. She almost vomited but managed to hold in her meager breakfast.

Surprisingly the Staff Sergeant and the instructors left. And then a woman appeared, except she wasn’t a woman. At least not quite. Gillian had never seen an A.I. and was completely enthralled with such an unusual sight. The artificial person introduced herself as Deja, their teacher, and immediately jumped into their lesson.

Gillian had never attended school so today was as good as any to begin.

---

Cadet Gillian-013
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2017, 1045 Hours

The lesson ended all too soon and the children were handed off once more to the Staff Sergeant and his now smaller pack of hyenas. They fell in line and headed off to the “Playground”, a “short jog” that was more along the lines of three kilometers. At the very least things seemed less rigid than they had been.

Gillian allowed her mind to wander a bit as she followed the others, canteen in hand, and not as exhausted as she had been only a few hours ago. The lesson from Deja had been somewhat boring but interesting in its own way. Gillian wasn’t one to know much about history, much less ancient history, and though she wasn’t the brightest of the lot she understood that somehow the story of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae was somehow related to what was happening to them now. They were to be protectors against the Persians, though who the Persians were the girl wasn’t all too sure, her home at Second Base being so far removed from current events that the troubles of a faraway system never reached them. Gillian could only assume that they were to be the heroes to stop the bad guys. A simple enough concept that she easily accepted.

The “Playground” was somewhat like a jungle gym if designed by a cruel and twisted sort of person, and in all likelihood it had been if the Staff Sergeant was any indication. Their task was simple: join a team, reach the bell, and don’t be last or else you go hungry. The bell was maybe forty feet high with a deep pool underneath, and though it would soften a fall Gillian had never been swimming before in her life, which was to say that she could float as well as a cement brick. The girl couldn’t help but to hug her canteen a little tighter as if it would protect her.

A yell and the kids quickly sorted themselves into teams. Gillian simply tagged along to whoever had been closet. She didn’t know their names but could at least identify them by the numbers on their clothing. A few boys and one other girl. The girl was the first to introduce herself. 045 was Ingrid. Not that Gillian would remember the name all too well.

A boy, 025, then asked for names. “I’m Gillian,” the girl said with her rural accent, feeling a bit odd since she hadn’t spoken at all today or yesterday. She looked to the others expectantly. Gillian still hadn’t come to grasp her situation just yet but felt a little more comfortable now that she was with the others.

[FelrikTheDeleted]

Cadet Hatman-022
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

Hatman could barely breath, the gruelling physical training session of which the seventy five adolescents had just participated in was torturous. It was unbelievable that this entire program was taking place. This simply had to be some sort of child abuse. He'd vomited on a number of occasions. Soon water was passed out, Hatman took it without question, a lukewarm blessing, there was a catch however, lose it and he'd be screwed, not only would he be punished for losing it but that would be the only one canteen he'd get.

"Now everybody on your feet, we start jogging now!" Shouted Sgt. Mokuto.

Hatman soon found his way onto his feet, he didn't particularly want to feel a shock baton today. The children were soon off, the route they had taken was extremely pleasing to the eyes which was a slight consolations. It was at this moment that Hatman looked to his fellow cadets, all covered in sweat, all exhausted.

What this scenic route lead to was a large and imposing building, resting upon the front of said building was a set of words, it said: NAVAL OFFICER ACADEMY. It was obvious that this imposing structure was some form of education centre.

Once inside the building they were seated within a classroom, a blessing was what was found, a cracker and milk, Hatman would savour the flavour.

It was then that he heard a feminine but comforting, at least he thought so, voice.

"Hello children, my name is Deja, and I will be you teacher from here on out. Today we'll be going over the Battle of Thermopylae. Dated almost two thousand years ago, and the magnum opus of the original Spartans."

---

Cadet Hatman-022
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

The lesson of which Deja had despensed for them to learn was like the physical training, gruelling. Hatman was far from the sharpest tool in the shed, far smarter than the kids he went to the education centre with, however, the children that surrounded him were clearly far superior in the area of the intellect.

Eventually they were once again lead out of the building and onto the field where they came face to face with Sgt. Mokato.

"Fall in trainees, we're headed to the Playground, it's a short jog. Let's move!". The children soon filled in. They soon found that the jog of which the Sgt had claimed as being 'short' was far from a short jog. This 'short' jog eventually lead to the 'playground', something only the twisted could possibly come up with.

"Trainees, your exercise here will be to make your way to the bell." He gestured towards a very obvious brass bell above a pool. "Last team to arrive will not be eating tonight! You will sort yourself into twelve teams of six! There will be three left over, who we will assign to three teams! Go!".

With this he soon found himself looking at a few different candidates. 124, 017, 032 , 048, 063, and 234. It was at this time that he saw Cadet-048 step forward.

"Baburin, Nice run.”

Hatman looked up to his face and replied. "Jones Mavrick Hatman, I would prefer Hatman".

A second voice suddenly spoke up. "It seems to me that the only way we're getting up to that bell is as a team, who here is the tallest and who here is the strongest?" He grinned briefly, and then returned to speaking. "height should be easy enough to find out, does anyone fancy an arm wrestle to see who's strongest?"

It was Cadet-032.

"I believe it best if we worked as a team". Said Hatman.

[Newrey]

Cadet Johan-142
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 0530 Hours

Johan rarely locked himself out of his mind and mindlessly carried out a task, but now...now felt like it was the only way to finish. The jumping jacks that he had enjoyed during the mandatory physical period at the foster homes seemed a lifetime away from the version they were doing here. His legs burned with pain, begging for him to stop after each jack was complete. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Stopping would likely bring about a meeting with the shock baton and, after already meeting it twice today, he wasn't all too keen on meeting it again. After what seemed like an eternity, Mobuto finally shouted out "150!" and a surge of relief rushed through Johan. It was short lived when Mobuto announced that they were to do sit-ups.

"Sit ups?" he though to himself "What?" he dared not let slip his confusion though, especially as Mobuto began to show them what to do. "Are they trying to kill us???". Regardless, he got down into the position, the stress on his legs evaporating as he sat down. Without thinking, he began to do the sit-ups and, unlike him, his body wa more than keen to air their grievances. They screamed with pain and exertion after each rep, coming close to failing him every time he pulled himself up.

The torture, and confusion, only continued from there.Thinking, rather foolishly, that they were done following the end of the sit-ups, he felt his heart drop when he heard Mobuto announce they were doing 'burpees' next. Having pushed himself as far as he felt he could go during the previous exercises, he felt his stomach churn as his started the exercise. Moments after reach number 80, his stomach suddenly gave up, pushing up everything up with no stopping in mind. He keeled over to the side, letting the vomit splash down next to him. Looking up at the instructors, they simply motioned for him to continue. "Evil bastards" he thought to himself, before weakly continuing.

"Rest! Trainers get the water!" was a sentence Johan never expected to be relieved about hearing, yet his body flushed with happiness when they received their break. After being handed his canteen, he barely glanced over the unique number written on the front before gulping down as much as he could, forcibly tearing his mouth away from the lid when Mobuto stated that they would be keeping this bottles and would not receive a replacement. Rather harsh for soldiers, even more so considering they were only six years-old.

The run that followed next was slightly easier than the previous exercises, with breathtaking landmarks easily distracting the boy from the exhausting reality of the run, the runways was especially captivating for him, having never seen a plane in person before. Arriving at a building with NAVAL OFFICERS ACADEMY etched into the arch, hardly discreet, yet it was a welcome break. Entering the air-conditioned building gave Johan a refreshing breeze of fresh air, complying with the orders that herded them in a classroom and then left alone. A woman then came into the room and began to speak;

"Hello children, my name is Deja, and I will be you teacher from here on out." Johan's heart missed a beat when the woman transformed herself into what looked like a map. "Today we'll be going over the Battle of Thermopylae. Dated almost two thousand years ago, and the magnum opus of the original Spartans."

---

Curiosity took hold of Johan as they left the classroom and began the supposedly 'short' jog to the 'Playground'. The Spartans had been raised from childhood to fight against what could be presumed to be an uncivilised horde. Was that what the UNSC wanted to do? Raise the children around him into the perfect soldiers to fight against those that sought to bring destruction to the UNSC?

Regardless, his mind was filled with these thoughts until they reached the 'Playground', with Mobuto's imposing voice bringing him sharply out of his thinking state.

"Trainees, your exercise here will be to make your way to the bell." He gestured towards a very obvious brass bell... about forty feet above the rather deep looking pool. "Last team to arrive will not be eating tonight! You will sort yourself into twelve teams of six! There will be three left over, who we will assign to three teams! Go!"

Johan wasted no time getting into a group, recognising the others only by their numbers. 045, 013, 041, 025, 214, 004 and himself, 142. He wasted no time introducing himself;

"Johan" he said quickly "I would have to agree with 014. I don't think Mobuto knows what easy means"

[Tayner]

Cadet Haythem Daniel
Capital City, New Victoria
10/09/2517

It was just another car ride to the grocery store, one that Haythem was loathing like usual. He didn't like running errands with his parents, it bored him to no end, but he was always told "You can stay home when you're older" by his parents, or "We will let you stay home when you're allowed to be responsible." He pondered those very words in his head as he rested his temple on the passenger side window in the back seat of the car they were traveling in.

That's all Haythem could remember from that day. He didn't remember the civilian warthog smashing into the front drivers' side of their car, or his mother dying on impact. He didn't remember hearing the sirens whaling in the distance, and he certainly didn't remember having his heart stop on the ambulance ride. Nor did he remember being resuscitated back to life by the EMTs, who were secretly ONI agents. He especially didn't remember the week he spent in a hospital in a drugged up state of recuperation.

The only thing Haythem remembered from then was the look on his mothers face in the rear view mirror.

---

Cadet Haythem Daniel
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Preservation 01478-B
23/09/2517

Haythem was no stranger to wearing stiff clothes, but the clothes he wore now were different. They weren't broken in at all, and they seemed fresh off the loom. What he did find strange was the scar in his right eye, he didn't have that before... He didn't have much time to think about it as he was soon directed through an atrium and into a room where he listened to the most gibberish words in his life.

Am I dead? His mind thought.

She continued on, saying they were called upon to protect Earth and humanity as a whole. He picked up a few words that shed some light on what was happening. UNSC, this was military. Conscripted, they didn't have a choice. Special Project, this wasn't normal. SPARTAN-II? He didn't know what to think about that.

"This will be hard to understand, but you cannot return to your parents." The woman spoke, the last word echoing in his mind.

My parents! He thought to himself, having not realizing what happened earlier. He knew there was a crash, but he didn't know of his parents were ok. "Are my parents ok?" He thought out loud, at a faint whisper. His eyes were starting to water when he was given a light smack in the back of the head.

"Shut up." One of the men in uniform said.

He didn't listen to the rest of the words the woman said. He was zoned out. The only thing that snapped him back to reality was the rather loud command to fallout.

Needless to say when the lights went out and the cadre left, Haythem let out some tears.

---

Cadet Haythem Daniel
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B

He was awaken to his body seizing due to acute electric exposure, one of the trainers being responsible. "Shit." He yelled, only to receive another, more intense, shock.

"Watch your language, cadet." The trainer spat at him as Haythem scrambled to his feet. They were herded into the showers, Haythem being careful not to make eye contact as he cleaned himself in the cold water.

I am dead. He thought. This is hell.

He was quick to make his way to his bunk and to get dressed, and soon he was outside in the formation. After watching a fellow kid get beaten for voicing his opinion in regards to the impending workout, Haythem didn't open his mouth to breathe until it was absolutely necessary. The exercises that ensued were excruciating. Haythem threw up halfway through the sit-ups, turning his head to the right and vomiting mid rep, the threat of starting over kept him going.

After the workout they were given water canteens. He hesitated to drink out of it, and while doing so he whitenessed a few other kids vomit after gulping down too much water. Haythem took more care than his fellow cadets, opting to conserve as much water as he could. If this was only the beginning of they day, he was going to need to conserve it at this rate. After he drank the water he looked down at the canteen, and as told, it bore the numbers 012, identical to his uniform.

Next up on the agenda of the Staff Sargent was a jog to a glorified schoolhouse. The lesson they were taught was simple, a brief history of the Spartans at Thermopylae. It was then Haythem realized what was going on. They were being trained to be the ultimate cannon fodder. They were fed some crackers and milk during the lesson, and then they were off on another jog, this time even further. Haythem was worried as much about what they were going to do there as the jog back.

They were ordered into six man teams, and lucky Haythem found his way into one. There was a heavier set fellow, number 111, a (relatively) small girl, number 119, a thin guy who had number 169. He didn't much care about the other's numbers. They started introductions with name instead, and they chatted for a minute and Haythem took charge.

"Well, I figured if Mr. 111 gives me a boost up on that support there, and I get up there and climb up to that rope, I can help the rest of y'all up and we can work our way up from there." He planned. Not the most spectacular plan, and it involved a little bit of improving, but it was a plan nonetheless. Now all they had to do was wait.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Cadet Sandford-124
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

Susanna Sandford jogged.

Her heart beat a million miles a minute, tongue trying to wag its way out of her mouth with the excess saliva pushed out. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve when a stream of drool poked out of the corner of her mouth.

I’m one two four. That is my name. The girl’s head spun, seeing those three numbers on her uniform and her canteen. She wanted a sip so bad, but she couldn't. No, she couldn't quench her thirst until this was all over. She had to wait. She would force herself to wait. She remembered the minuscule grooves in the canteen, running her fingers along then nervously until they grew red and raw.

She jogged, she jogged with the others, short breaths escaping her mouth. Her vision grew blurry, the short jog being a little more than short, and a little more than a jog. She refused to pace herself, only wanting to keep up with the pack. If she fell behind, she knew she would only feel that same weightlessness, that electrifying shock from a hard-hitting baton and a psychopathic handler. Why did this happen to me? Why am I here? The thoughts fluttered about her mind.

They stopped, soon enough. It was welcome for Susanna to take a break. She only wanted to stop this. She wanted to cry. She desperately needed it. Susanna paused, taking in who was in her group. An obstacle course stood before her, and she looked it over.

Numbers flew towards her, other children with new names and no parents. A hard reset had ocurred, like whenever Susanna’s mom held down the power button on the TV. It was an older model, from the 2070s, but Susanna had always been content with it. She had always been content with her mother, but had always been missing something… something she wasn't quite sure of.

The sudden bombardment of information did not faze her, but the sudden grouping did. She stood straight up, looking over the others.

There was 017, a Mediterranean boy who seemed athletic if standoffish. There was 032 as well, who was a broad boy with plain brown hair. 048, the first to speak, had striking green eyes. 063 was a blonde girl with positively freezing eyes. There was 234 as well, but Susanna somehow managed to only skim over them.

”Baburin, nice jog.” 048 says. It took Susanna a moment to realize that was his name. Baburin. It was unlike any name she had ever heard before. A few more children introduced themselves, and Susanna grimaced. These kids all talked so… weird. They were weird. They acted funny, but not funny in a good way…

Funny in a bad way. She thought to herself. Regardless, she managed to introduce herself. “I-I’m Susanna.” The girl stammered, her eyes darting back and forth to each of her teammates. She looked at her feet, nervously shuffling them around.

[Ormata]

Cadet Baburin-048
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

"It seems to me that the only way we're getting up to that bell is as a team, who here is the tallest and who here is the strongest?" He grinned briefly, and then returned to speaking. "height should be easy enough to find out, does anyone fancy an arm wrestle to see who's strongest?"

"I believe it best if we worked as a team". Said Hatman.

“I-I’m Susanna.”

“Yes,” stated Baburin, looking at the structure hesitantly, “We need to get the team there. The team needs to get there.” He swallowed; the phrasing by Mobuto had been specific. There was a difference between team and I; Baburin knew that much. Sucking at his inner cheek, he looked at it a bit more. The water would soften any fall, but...wait. At least two of Baburin’s friends back home couldn’t swim. Baburin could; his parents had been adamant on that. A family trip every once in awhile, they stated. Baburin himself could float.

He noticed the girl, Susanna, 124, she definitely wasn’t at-ease. Baburin swallowed again, looking at everyone else.

“Who can swim?”

[FelrikTheDeleted]

Cadet Hatman-022
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
23/09/2517, 2300 Hours

"I-I’m Susanna.” Said a young girl as she stepped forward, she was obviously nervous and Hatman didn't blame her. He to was slightly nervous. The exercise looked exhausting, not mentioning the course which dangerous.

Yes,” Said the cadet he now knew as Baburin as he looked at the structure hesitantly, “We need to get the team there. The team needs to get there.” Baburin visably swallowed.

"He must be nervous too...". Thought Hatman.

"Who can swim?”

Hatman once again looked up. Hatman at the least was confident of his ability to swim, his parents, while being extremely distant from him emotionally, they made sure to equip him with the skills to survive in the world.

"I can, I took more than a couple lessons back when I was at home. What do you need me to do?".

[Anowa]

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours
Ingrid nodded at 214, his request to join wasn't really needed, so long as there were six... well, seven now 041 Had yet to give a name, though in hindsight it didn't matter all too much, friends could be made later, right now though there was a plan to make.

The others gave names, Gillian-013, Deimos-025, Johan-142. And then there was the tall mystery boy. he seemed to work up the courage to speak, in an accent Ingrid recognized as Germanic, "I'm Rudolph." Johan promptly made a valid point.

"I would have to agree with 014. I don't think Mobuto knows what easy means."

Ingrid nodded and cast her gaze towards the 'Playground', she looked for something easy to get them to the top. And she spotted something off to the side, away from notice. It was nearly halfway between the bell's pole and the 'shore' of the pool. A narrow ladder that went up twenty feet, leading to a staggered set of poles, which lead to a platform rigged with pulleys and ropes, leading up to a straight and narrow beam that connected to the bell pole.

All in all it was risky, if anyone was a particularly bad swimmer than they'd likely be last, but from Ingrid's point of view it was the most sraight forward way of getting to the bell.

"You can all see that ladder over there right?"

[Cressageland]

Cadet Keenan-032
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

048 spoke seperately but simultaneously to Rory. "Baburin, Nice run". The first name was out.

"Jones Mavrick Hatman, I would prefer Hatman". 022 Had a name too

"I-I’m Susanna" said Cadet 124. She had a name now as well.

Rory's hand shot up when Baubrin (the first to name themselves) asked who could swim. Somewhat eagerly he answered "I can swim! I learnt it at school!". He realised quite quickly he'd nearly interrupted Hatman's similar answer of affirmation. Embarrased, he attempted to find something else to look at, and as he did so he looked around.

His first suggestion of a push up now seemed a bit...ambitious, even to his optimistic mind. It would take superhuman strength to throw someone that high, and whilst Rory was strong he wasn't that strong. Without tools, this would be impossible. He looked around for some, assuming that the task would be difficult, but not impossible.

As he quickly scanned the room, he noticed several things. A ladder against the wall leaning to poles that led to a system of ropes and pulleys that looked rather misplaced. He ruled them out, to get one person up there would be possible, two maybe. But all 6? they were all quite physically fit looking, but that might be putting it beyond some of the team after the mornings workout. Maybe some way of helping them along could be found?

Rory turned to the group. "has anyone else noticed that ladder over there? it could be a way up, but I don't know if we'll all make it, especially if some of us can't swim. Any ideas on how to help those who can't swim along? We don't want anyone to get hurt"

[New Antonalia]

-snip-

Cadet Gilbert-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/09/2517, 1045 Hours

Gilbert nodded at the mention of the ladder and followed it up to the pulleys and ropes. Several other people had joined the group, but he doubted they were the cream of the crop of the cadets. "Yeah, but we still have to make it through the rest of that Asshole's "playground", and from what I can see, that won't be a walk in the park." He looked over the "Playground". Best he could figure, most of it was hanging above the pool, polls and scaffolding weaved together with ropes, all radiating from the bell. "So, 045, what's the plan?" He asked, not sure why he called her out, but he figured she might have seen something he missed, or realized something he didn't. "Though before you speak. The Asshole said we had to reach the bell before anyone else, he didn't say by what means, nor did he mention we weren't allowed to hinder the other teams."

It wasn't in his nature to be cutthroat, but he didn't put it past himself since his dinner was on the line, and for him, a warm meal, even if it tasted like shit, was better than nothing. He had gone for days on end living in grip of starvation several times, his body was proof of that, and he doubted the others could last one day without eating.