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

[Beiarusia]

Cadet Gillian-013
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/12/2519

Not everyone had come back. Eleven were dead, brothers and sisters, lost forever because of some oversight, and Ingrid may well join them before the night was out. The children had been optimistic that they’d all make it through whatever the Staff Sergeant and Halsey had planned for them, but after what happened in the forest that dream was all but dashed. Those who made it thus far handled the news in their own ways. Some cried, others sought companionship, a few kept their emotions hidden behind a blank face. Gillian was numb, uncertain on just how to feel. Sad, yes, but no tears had been shed. Most of her time had been spent in the barracks, atop her cot, thinking about what she had and what she no longer had.

For the first time in a long time she thought about home.

Haythem-012 approached her. A friend, but not exactly close. They simply hadn’t spent much time together lately. “How are you holding up?” the boy asked, his voice making it clear that he was there to offer comfort if need be.

Gillian shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Another child, Gilbert, must have overheard or was simply speaking aloud to himself. “This was someone’s negligence, or Mobuto planned for this to happen. Mobuto planned it.”

The redheaded girl looked over with a frown that would almost look angry if not for her being as threatening as a newborn cat. She spoke up so that Gilbert could hear. “How can you say that? He’s…” The building anger puttered out quickly enough. “He’s all we ‘ave, so don’t be thinking like that. It’s not his fault.” Too much had happened too soon. Gillian needed to clear her head, so quickly thanked Haythem for checking in on her before excusing herself to the restroom. In truth she just needed to walk for a bit even if it was in a circle around the hall.

A few minutes passed with Gillian wandering the now familiar halls that had been her home for over two years now. She didn’t stray too far, not wanting to be questioned or zapped by any instructor who may happen upon her, but given the situation they may well feel some measure of pity and merely turn her back towards the barracks. Not likely so Gillian didn’t chance it. The girl had just rounded a corner, eyes down, trying and failing to keep her mind from wandering back to home, when a light thumping sound drew her attention. It wasn’t hard to find the source. Lukas was banging his head against the wall, not hard enough to injure himself but enough so to produce an audible smack that surely would hurt in the morning. Gillian watched for a moment, unable to tell just what was going through her friends mind, but she could feel the anger and that was more than she could take.

For the first time in a very, very long time Gillian couldn’t help but to cry.

There was little thought to her actions as she walked up behind Lukas and looped her arms around him, needing something, anything, to hold onto right now, and quietly she allowed her tears to fall as she buried her face into the back of her friend. Maybe he could have done more. Maybe she could have as well. Any one thing could have been done differently, but they would never know.

Her voice was small when she spoke. “It’s not your fault. It’s not…”

[Vacif]

Cadet Deimos-025
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Wilderness Training Preserve
24/12/2519, 0413 Hours

Deimos sat on the ground with his knees to his chest as he processed the news. His jaw rested on his knee caps as he hugged his legs. To his sides were Alpha, Constantine, and Edona. The four of them and a few others had been separated from the others when they dropped. Those not with them were amongst the dead or the injured. 11 of their fellow cadets, people who had been with them for the past two years were gone. The news that they'd lost 11 of their own was absolutely shocking in its own right, but what was most jarring for those four was that they'd been with them when it happened. What hit them heaviest though was that they didn't even notice. Jayden, Lin, Bruno. They disappeared. One moment they were right behind them, the next. Gone. Marines were everywhere, but they couldn't find them. Tal and Pete were in the infirmary now. How didn't they notice? They were right behind them...

The room felt cold. Maybe that had something to do with sadness. You always felt cold when you were sad. No amount of blankets or shirts could make you warmer. He knew the others felt the same...Well maybe those who were mad. Angry. Angry for or at themselves, the dead, or everything. For as bad as things went during training, he never expected anyone to ever die. They always seemed so...untouchable. Untouchable in the sense that they couldn't die. They were beaten, electrified, and exhausted but they always seemed to persevere. They'd gone through things that most other adults, let alone kids could have surpassed. Mainly because that was the only option they had. The instructors had always planned everything so...methodically. There was always that chance of death but something in their minds, or at least Deimos' always knew that it would never come to it.

Until now.

Now they had 11 maybe even 12 possible deaths, with additional casualties. This was real, their reality. There really was no safety net. Never was, never will be. In the future it would only get more hard. More dangerous. They'd be in the real world. More would die if they weren't better.

But how could they of fought this enemy? These wolves...they were larger, stronger, faster. They knew the land, lived there their entire lives. They on the other hand...were nothing but scared kids lost in the forest. Literally. None of their training for the past two years had prepared them for this. The feeling of losing your own. Or fighting this enemy. Or maybe it had, and they'd all just forgotten it in the moment.

They needed to be better. Had to be. They couldn't afford to lose. Deimos tried to keep strong, have something in his mind to take away from the thought of the loss, but he couldn't. The sense of loss and sadness was overwhelming. Right now all he could do was be sad. He was a kid at the end of the day. They were kids. Kids with the weight of the entire galaxy on their shoulders. So right now, he sat with his friends and family. Together, they grieved.

[Second Helghan Empire]

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/12/2519

Lukas had lost himself in what he was doing. The audible smack egging him on in an odd way. It was as if it was draining his head of all the memories of his friends one by one. One smack at a time. The tremor each sudden shock sent through him was somehow keeping him from breaking down as he saw it and shaking and crying. So he continued in his cold and still damp stained clothes.

He froze suddenly as gentle arms enveloped him from behind. A crying face pressed into his back whispered muffled words. Gillian, was Lukas's closest friend. Having stopped hitting his head on the wall, his body began to slightly shake. He turned around in her embrace and wrapped his arms around her. They slid down the wall with each other in their arms and the pair both cried softly. Lukas blinked through his tears and mumbled before swallowing hard and speaking well enough for her to hear him.

"This won't happen again if I have my say in it. I will do everything I can next time, and it will be different." He looked down at GIllian before pulling her in closer and continuing crying softly.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Suzie Sandford stared into space for the entirety of the Pelican ride. She looked down at the trees, watching green brush by. Unknowingly, she caught a glimpse of the dead Bruno, but brushed it off as nothing but a rock.

***

”…Frank, Lin, Bjorn, Damian, Jayden, Kolton, Sara, Ellen, Harrison, Bruno and Janice will not be coming home. Ingrid still hasn't woken up either... If any of you need to talk to someone. I'll be waiting, and I hope you will be supporting one another..."

Suzie blinked. More rapid shutters followed, before three tears stained her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered, her nose shook. She broke down. Halsey watched all of them over with weary, red eyes. Suzie remembered all of them. She had just seen them, she had just approached them, she had just had conversations with them. She couldn't understand how this would happen, she couldn't understand why it did. The young girl slapped tears and snot away from her face, a bubble forming at her left nostril. She wiped it away with her sleeve.

“No… no no no…” She repeatedly murmured. Maybe Halsey could check again. Maybe they hadn't considered everything. But dead? No… they weren't dead. They couldn't be dead. Suzie looked up from her tearful endeavor, noticing other children bawling with her. It comforted the girl, seeing that she wasn't the only one saddened by their loss. And seeing Halsey… even an adult was sad. She had never seen that before.

They continued to mourn.

[Anowa]

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
25/12/2519, 0801 Hours

Ingrid felt weak, not in the metaphorical sense, but in the physical sense. Her ears picked up the sound of an EKG beeping away, slower than should be healthy. She opened her eyes to a dulled set of lights above the bed she lay in. To her left came the smiling form of Halsey, "Merry Christmas Ingrid."

Ingrid could only mumble a response.

Halsey seemed to smile even more, before pulling something out from underneath the chair. Her canteen. Her heart rate audibly changed, she left it behind in the forest. Was Halsey here to give it back?

"It's not exactly a new gift, but one of the SAR brought it back. I snagged it before the trainers could. I figured you'd want to keep it all things considered." Ingrid could barely move, but the ghost of a smile hopefully told her maternal figure all it needed to. "Get some rest Ingrid, you'll be in here for a few days. And don't scratch the stitches." With that Halsey stood and left the room.

Ingrid wouldn't learn of the other's fates for another two days, when Rudolph was the one to first visit her. It crushed her more than it should've. While they may not have been as close as the few she usually teamed up with, they were still family, and as squad leader she was partially responsible, from past experiences she would've known that Mobuto would not have reacted negatively to any questions, especially those regarding personnel safety. And he wouldn't be so rash as to willingly send the children into a wolf infested area of the forest. She should've asked more, stupid questions or not it would've saved lives.

Her self perceived failure would stick with her for the rest of her days. All the way until a yet to be met friends nearly destroyed the UNSC.

Halo: Trepidation

Act 2: A Sudden Plunge in the Sullen Swell

>>OOC<<

Cadet Ingrid-045
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524, 0801 Hours

It was hard to believe it was her fifteenth birthday. Hard to believe that she'd been under the watch of Mobuto and Halsey for nine years now. Hard to believe that Mobuto was more than likely crying less than a week ago.

It wasn't open, and she didn't see any tears, but on top of calculus and very advanced chemistry, Deja also taught them psychology. So when asked what their objectives were for their next operation, after his big speech about how it was an honor to train them, after they all swelled with pride that the man who taught them was promoted to Sergeant Major, his single reply, with a single voice crack told her all she needed to know: Survive.

It scared the living shit out of her. If Mobuto was scared, and Halsey was straight up not present, it meant that something grave was going to happen. Ingrid groggily looked over at the little medical display one of the six surgeons surrounding her was looking at. A few words stuck out, among all the other SPARTANs, she was the most notably skilled in biology. So mentions of 'carbide ceramic ossification' and 'adrenal monocyte breeder' made her a bit worried, obviously they involved her, but why? Both herself and every other SPARTAN II had the physique of a 20 year old Olympian. What were they trying to improve?

She didn't get her answer, an extra dose of analgesic knocked her right out. And she drifted into the odd station of dream-ville.

Despite being completely out of it, Ingrid felt pain like no other. Subconsciously she knew such thing didn't happen, at least they shouldn't have. She was put under, she shouldn't have been felling anything let alone pain. But by all that was holy it felt like she was being incinerated, pulverized and ground up all at once. Every so often the main focus of pain changed. From the feeling of bones being turned into dust and boiling marrow, to being injected with burning napalm while simultaneously being flayed alive, to felling like her spine was about to explode while glass was being jammed into every millimeter of her body.

And as quickly as it started it stopped.

And Ingrid woke up in a hospital bed... again. Ingrid sat up, or at least tried as she flung herself upwards she felt a few stitches pop. And still sensitive from the surgery she nearly started crying in pain. No, that wasn't right, she'd been through surgeries and popped stitches before, she had better reactions then, so wahy such a level of pain now.

She hardly noticed the nurse slowly push herself back int place on the bed and begin restitching. And barely noticed her talking, "Congratulations, your'e the first to wake up."

Ingrid tried to ask what she meant, but her tongue tied itself in a knot, so instead she tried saying something else. But that failed as well.

The nurse filled her in regardless, "The surgery you've undergone has rewired your nervous system, augmented your musculature and... grown you. You're actually one of the taller ones now. As well as an increased bone durability and increased production of platelets and blood cells during an adrenaline rush. It'll take at least a day before your capable of coherent speech and at least a week before your capable of moving safely. It may be a month before you perceive time correctly."

Ingrid simply laid back down. This wasn't going to be fun. She relaxed, trying to think of what the others faces would be like when they found out the same. Baburin would likely lose it, Rudolph would as well, Gillian would probably mope for a bit then become indifferent, Gilbert would likely blame Halsey... or Mobuto...

Their father figure's single word resounded in her head again and again, "Survive." That was literally the only objective they had on this 'Mission'. So from what Ingrid knew of Mobuto and his delivery of objectives. He knew people were going to die... And the pain she felt. It clicked, this surgery wasn't routine in any sense of the word, it was experimental. Never intended for mass use like it just had been.

Ingrid snuggled herself into the bed even harder, trying to think about anything other than having to send off the bodies of even more family.

Cadet Ingrid-045
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

Ingrid was still in shock. After the incident in the forest she didn't think it could get any worse. Before the augmentations there were 63 of them... Now there were 22, with four included too crippled to be combat capable. She didn't register the sound of Mobuto speaking, nor the fact that she had grown much taller than most of her peers now. She only registered the dull thump of her family's urns being fired into space, the wheeling away of Petra-063, who's bones had reshaped her into something nigh-inhuman; Jones-022, who was shaking so uncontrollably that they had to bind him to the wheelchair so he wouldn't break it; Serin-019, who had such an amount of damage done to her nervous system and eyes that she could no longer register outside stimulus; And Constantine-017 who was in a tank of gel so his body wouldn't crumple in on itself. Then there was Mobuto.

He looked like death itself had shit in his breakfast, he looked thin, sleep deprived, stressed out. She was certain that he hadn't had any gray hairs prior to their augmentations, now both his temples were gray. How hard had he taken the deaths of his charges?

He turned to the remaining trainees assembled. He opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it, and opening it again, "Six years... That's how long I've known this procedure was going to happen. Six years I've known that not all of your were going to make it. And I should have told you, but I didn't... I didn't because I thought it would be better for you mentally. That if you were going to die it would be with the thoughts that you'd accomplish something, so that you wouldn't have the knowledge that you might very well die hang over you. I was very wrong..." Ingrid hated him at that moment, but at the same time she understood his reasoning. How would their drive to succeed be if they felt as if death was simply a predetermined terminus? Would more have died in the forest? Would there be other incidents? There were too many variables, and as she grew she understood that children -while chaotic inherently- had rather set paths they would follow.

That didn't make her feel any better, though Mobuto still had more to say, and despite her current feelings she would listen, just as she always had... Just as she always would, "I know that some of you would like nothing more than to kill me at this moment. But before any attempts are made I'd like to leave you all with some sage advice. There is a difference between lives wasted and lives spent. I know you're all smart enough to realize the difference."

Silence for more than a few moments, Ingrid looked out the view port, at the void of space her family had been gifted to only moments ago. Without thinking she spoke, "Which was this?"

A pause, before Mobuto spoke, in a tone she'd never heard before. It wasn't their father, trainer, concerned officer, or enraged drill instructor, it was the voice of a broken man full of regret, wishing another path had been taken, "If I knew, I'd have told you Ingrid." He turned and made his way towards the exit before pausing, "Dismissed."

[Tayner]

Cadet Haythem-012
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
25/12/2519

“This was someone’s negligence, or Mobuto planned for this to happen. Mobuto planned it.” A voice behind the grieving children.

“He’s all we ‘ave, so don’t be thinking like that. It’s not his fault.” Gillian sharply replied.

"Hey man, 'cmon, don't go around talkin' like that. If he'd want us killed off, we'd been dead ten time over by now." Haythem said. Gillian gave a quick thanks for checking in and left. Haythem turned to Gilbert and looked at him for a second and nodding before going on to check in with some other friends.

---

Cadet Haythem-012
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524

Shit was bad. Mobuto was scared, he was blubbering on about pride and honor in their training, and his eyes looked a little more glossy than usual as if he was holding back tears. His advice for the mission was different from his usual short lectures on how to get out of tricky situations, but was instead substituted with a two syllable word.

Survive.

Soon after he was ushered into a operation room in scrubs, and was put under anesthetic. "Start counting down from one hundred." One of the surgeons said.

"One hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight, ninety sev...." Haythem counted, his voice fading with each number.

"That's the furthest any of my patients have ever gotten." The surgeon said before beginning the operation.

Haythem was in a deep sleep as to be expected, but unlike he was to understand he soon felt pain, an experience that should've been blocked out by the anesthetic. He felt a white hot pain on his right back side, followed by the feeling of slamming into a concrete surface with the force of a million newtons. His innards felt like molten lava, and his skull felt as if it exploded into a ball of confetti. He felt his blood pumping through his veins like acid, but then it stopped. Haythem felt his heart stop stone cold in his chest.

"Clear."

He felt the zap similar to that of a shock baton in his chest, and he awoke gasping for air. He looked crazy-eyed at the doctors and nurses surrounding him. He felt as if cotton, no, concrete was stuffed into his mouth.

"We thought we lost you at the end of the operation, we were about to administer a stimulant when you flatlined. Nevertheless you're alive, and the operation is complete. I expect you to be able to talk and walk fully normal-like by the end of the month." The doctor said with a smile before turning to his nearest assistant. "Nurse." He said, not needing to give her an order on what to do next as she wheeled him away.

Haythem's heart had stopped for the second time since he was selected to be a SPARTAN-II, and he could only think in disarray about what he had just felt. He must've felt oblivion surge through his body, that was the only way he could describe it. He looked down at his feet that were resting at the bottom of his stretcher, and saw that they were much farther away than normal.

---

Cadet Haythem-012
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525

Thump.

Away went an urn, carrying the ashes of one of his brothers in arms, their serial number engraved into it.

Thump.

Another urn was cast off into space, carrying another of Haythem's sisters.

Thump.

Haythem saw the number engraved on the side of the urn, 111. King was gone, one of his closest friends. King, who he dove thirty feet into ice cold water to rescue, King, who had saved his life the night eleven others were lost, King, who prayed with him Haythem when they both needed it despite his religious orientation.

Thump.

His heart thumped with the sound of his forty one brothers and sisters being shot into space. He looked at the other twenty two survivors, four of them crippled. He looked at Serin, who couldn't look back. The girl that had taken a rock to the face for trying to help her team, the girl that he helped not freeze to death in the forest, the girl that he had become friends with since then. They had deep conversations about life, about the training, about her side of the story at the playground. She wasn't trying to ditch his team and get them to starve, she was doing the opposite but just got caught behind the wrong person on the ladder. Haythem understood that now, but it didn't matter.

The program had taken two of his closest friends away from him, and even more of his brothers ans sisters. Mobuto gave a speech, but Haythem didn't listen. What Mobuto was saying didn't matter, nothing did. What he did hear however was the last bit.

"I know that some of you would like nothing more than to kill me at this moment. But before any attempts are made I'd like to leave you all with some sage advice. There is a difference between lives wasted and lives spent. I know you're all smart enough to realize the difference." Mobuto said.

"Which one was this?" A voice from the group of SPARTANS said, Haythem not bothering to identify it.

"If I had knew, I'd have told you, Ingrid." He replied, answering one question that Haythem had.

"Yo-you bastard." Haythem said out loud, barely louder than a whisper but loud enough to be heard throughout the whole room in it's silence. "You knew and..." He said, not being able to finish his thought. His eyes fell to the floor as they were dismissed, Haythem not budging. "You bastard." He whispered to himself.

Thump.

[Ormata]

Cadet Baburin-048
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524, 0801 Hours

Breath in. Breath out.

Survive. Survive is what Mobuto told him, told them, and for a moment Baburin didn’t know what that all meant. Survive. The man was a damn soldier, and he told them to survive. He even sounded scared. He even sounded concerned. He sounded concerned for those he had trained so very hard, who had drilled them relentlessly and knew them. Baburin knew that he was a soldier, and that for him to be scared for such people was…

...scary.

Breath in. Breath out.

He’d seen the labels, and the words formed in his mind. Ossification of ceramics meant putting ceramic on the bones, layering it on. The other words were just as intense. Survive. This is what Mobuto was talking about. This is what he had warned them of. This is the battle they would not be able to fight, not even have a chance. This was the point.

Breath in. Breath out.

His nerves screamed during the procedure. His nerves screamed and screamed and screamed, like white-hot needles covered with white phosphorous had been injecting into him, burning his blood from the inside out. Like being flayed. Baburin had come close to that, yet it did not compare to what he felt in those moments of unconsciousness. It didn’t even come close. It barely scratched the surface.

Breath in. Breath out.

He opened his eyes, and the pain was gone. A nurse was there, and she began to make words. For a moment, Baburin couldn’t make them out. She was making noises and it was English but he couldn’t make them out. It sounded like she was speaking something else and his eyes widened with fear at the moment. It was something he had done all his life, why couldn’t he do it now, why couldn’t he do it now, why cou…

Breath in. Breath out.

Baburin opened his eyes a second time, and the nurse was there again. “You had a stroke,” were the first things that came out of her mouth. “Can you understand me?” Her voice was afraid, somewhat, though there was that tinge of professionalism that every nurse has. Can’t be afraid for the patient. Can’t be afraid. Baburin nodded in response, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"The surgery you've undergone has rewired your nervous system, augmented your musculature and... grown you, though not by much. As well as an increased bone durability and increased production of platelets and blood cells during an adrenaline rush. It'll take at least a day before your capable of coherent speech and at least a week before your capable of moving safely. It may be a month before you perceive time correctly."

The speech sounded manufactured, though Baburin recognized it. Trouble speaking. Moving. Seeing time pass. Trouble with the world and trouble with interacting with it. He breathed a sigh of relief, too; he could understand English. That was the news. That was the good news, at least. The rest could be worried about...later. When he could speak, it could be worried about. He slipped to sleep.

Cadet Baburin-048
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

Too many had died. Baburin had trouble even looking at some of them. Some were so contorted, so hurt, that he felt a pain though his heart. They were tortured. They were denied what they had been aspiring towards yet had been jerked away from them by situations and by events which were not even under their control. They were poor and beggared. Before she had left, he hugged Petra-063.

And they were the lucky ones. They had lived.

Mobuto gave a speech. Baburin could barely listen. He knew, all along, about what would happen. About how it would happen. About how dead people would become from the program and how twisted it all was and how he had kept it away from them because more would have died from it. About how he was so very torn-up inside.

"I know that some of you would like nothing more than to kill me at this moment. But before any attempts are made I'd like to leave you all with some sage advice. There is a difference between lives wasted and lives spent. I know you're all smart enough to realize the difference."

Baburin simply stared into his eyes. Another SPARTAN asked which it was; Mobuto didn’t know. He didn’t know. The bastard. He flexed his hands, open and closed, open and closed, muscles tense and aching and so very wishing to kill him. He didn’t know. What right did he have to determine the lives of children, to play dice with the lives and watch the die kill one by one by one. What right did Halsey have.

What right.

[Beiarusia]

Cadet Gillian-013
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524

A lot had happened over the last nine years. So much. Gillian was older now, stronger, but her backwards innocence still remained, a youthful ignorance that had yet to be quashed by the hard realities of her life on Reach. Truthfully the girl was likely the weakest of the bunch, but she was optimistic and even she had her skills. The Staff Sergeant knew so. Lukas and the others knew as well, and when something needed fixed or taken apart Gillian was typically the first to be called, more often than not overjoyed at being needed or relied upon, striving for their wholehearted approval. Of course there had been problems along the way. The girl was very open and physical with her camaraderie, giving affection if only to replace that which was denied her due to her unwarranted abduction, and although mostly platonic there had been times where the lines of acceptable conduct had been skirted or else willfully ignored. There were favorites to be sure but generally the girl was beyond friendly with most every one of her peers. Gillian was also the sort to disregard formalities or chain-of-command. Casual to an infuriating degree. That being said, the girl was shaping up to be a great soldier that genuinely cared for those around her.

Which made what came next all the more unbearable.

She and all the others had been taken aboard the Endurance, an ONI medical facility in high orbit over Reach, and it was here that they were given what may well have been their final task: survive. Gillian didn’t understand, not at first.

They were taken in for surgery after that, not all at once, but called forward one-by-one which was, quite frankly, worse than if they had been ushered along as a group. Gillian was terrified but stepped ahead with a slight shake to her step. The doctors towered over her, faceless behind their masks, and soon had the girl prepped for the coming procedure. Embarrassingly the monitor registered the somewhat quickened pace of her heart. A few minutes later and after everything was checked and double-checked Gillian was mercifully put under.

Then came the pain. As if her skin was being flayed off with a jagged knife and salt rubbed into the bare wounds. Fire burned its way through the girl’s veins like lava, with nails being pounded into her joints and every bone shattered and ripped out in broken splinters. Unbearable. She screamed for it to stop, pleaded, begged, but there was no sound to be made. No salvation to be found. No end to her suffering. The torture went on for what felt like eternity. And then it was over. The pain subsided and only a dull ache remained, an echo that, too, faded as Gillian fell more and more into oblivion. She died on that table, flatlined, and only just was saved.

Gillian was the last to wake up almost two weeks later.

---

UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 hours

So many had been lost during the augmentations. Too many. Friends. Family. Gone in an instant. But maybe that was a blessing? They died oblivious to it all, spared the pain of living a life broken or deformed, like some others, but in truth the redheaded girl was simply trying to find some small shimmer of optimism in what was otherwise a traumatic event. It wasn’t working.

They stood in mourning as their brothers and sisters were sent off into space for eternal slumber, the Sergeant Major giving final rites for those who had washed out, the man looking just as broken as the trainees were. The Spartans were taller now, towering over even Mabuto which in of itself was an impressive feat, but Gillian had grown little by comparison and was the slowest to recover from the surgery, and even now she was still relatively weak. Determination kept her upright so that, in the end, she could be there for those she would never see again. There were no tears as they had already been shed, only a grim and hollow look as Gillian watched urn after urn take its final departure. Deep down she questioned how she had even made it thus far; deeper down she wished that it had been her instead.

Mobuto turned to them after the final urn had made its exit. He had known all along what would happen but hadn’t told them the truth in some misguided attempt to protect them, an explanation that Gillian accepted with little question as she had grown to trust the man as much as she trusted her brothers and sisters. Before dismissing them he gave what he called sage advice, “There is a difference between lives wasted and lives spent. I know you’re all smart enough to realize the difference.” When questioned by Ingrid if those lost were wasted or not he answered truthfully that he did not know.

Haythem broke the silence that followed and Baburin looked as if he really did wish to kill the Sergeant Major. Compared to their collective fire Gillian may well have been a candle in the rain, too tired to stand much less argue, but despite this she found her voice, speaking softly and with a slight edge as she cast a glance over to where the two stood. “Not now. Not here.”

Was she angry? Yes, but not at Mobuto. The situation was bad, very bad, but there was nothing to be done to change that, and throwing blame would be a wasted effort. They had to be there for one another now, more so than ever before. Gillian looked to the two boys, and then to Ingrid, Lukas who stood beside her, and finally to the back of the Sergeant Major as he made to leave. Everything was different, and yet there was still some small flicker of hope. They had survived for a reason. Now it was up to them to see it through.

Gillian reach up to take hold of Lukas, using his sleeve to steady herself lest her legs give up in supporting her weight. Her voice was scarcely loud enough for even him to hear, as if ashamed to be the weakest amongst them. “Sorry.”

[New Antonalia]

Cadet Gilbert-214
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524

"Nine years." He thought, barely paying attention to the newly promoted Master Sergeant Mobuto. "Nine years since I was grabbed from New Mombasa and thrown into this camp. What are they doing to me, what have I become?" Since that evening in 2519, he found himself becoming more and more obedient to the orders given by Mobuto or his subordinates. In his mind he was being trained to be an attack dog, to bark when spoken to, growl on order, and tear a man's throat out when commanded. "I guess I found my nickname. Dog, how fitting. But even a dog has emotions, original ideas, desires. Me, I don't even think I can think of something I had done out of my own initiative that wasn't related to the mission." But even he knew when fear was in the air, and he could pinpoint the exact person who expelled it. But it wasn't until Mobuto gave the mission objective that he began to know fear again himself. Survive. That was he said, and it was all that was needed to break his robotic thinking. He scanned the room for Dr. Halsey, but she was nowhere to be found. He felt his palms start to sweat and he did his best to keep from shaking like a leaf. But when the order was given, he'd follow it, even if it damned him for the rest of his life.

Gilbert lied down on the table he looked at the doctors and almost begged them to get him what ever he was about to go through. There wasn't a response, only several doses of a powerful anesthetic to knock him unconscious. Then came the pain that he wouldn't soon forget. He felt his blood boil as he began to regain consciousness and then even more pain as his bones melted into a soup of burning marrow. Soon, he found himself rendered unconscious by the pain. When he woke up, he found several other of his brothers and sisters were already awake. "Hey, I survived, didn't I?" He said, staying in his bed, too weak to do anything but speak. "I can't believe it, I survived. I survived. I survived." He said, delirious from a cocktail of pain killers circulating within his skin. "I survived."

Cadet Gilbert-214
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

Gilbert knew that some of them wouldn't make complete their objective, he couldn't tell how, he just knew. He listened to the Sergeant Major's speech, only breaking away to wish his brothers and sisters peace in their new lives among the stars. "Be at peace for your suffering is over." He thought, doing his best to remain stoic throughout the entire ordeal. It was no surprise to Gilbert that Mobuto had been hiding something, but he was surprisingly understanding of it. Looking back it made sense for Mobuto and Halsey to conceal the augmentations from the trainees. Their performance would have greatly suffered if they knew that they could die and no one would have even known. He read the room, there was anger, sadness, confusion, and dread, making the air stifling for him. At one point he heard one of the survivors, Haytham-012, whisper "You Bastard" as Mobuto spoke. Each thump sent a pang of emotions coursing through his body, he felt sorrow at the deaths, anger at Halsey and Mobuto, sadness for his own freakish existence, and relief that he survived it all. When it was all over, and Mobuto dismissed the survivors, all he could do was move into the corner of the room, and reflect. His callousness had prevented him from retaining any of the close friendships he had early on in the training, and this was the result. He had no one to talk to, no one to help him mourn, no one to help him recover. He watched silently as a tear fell from his face and onto the metal floor.

[Second Helghan Empire]

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524

Lukas thought back over the last several. An act that always caused his muscles to instinctively bring his hand up to the three deep scars embedded in the short cut of dark hair on his head. A reminder of a lesson learned 8 years ago. One where he was again shown the human side of his father figure Mobuto. Lukas was far more content with his life and family now. No longer angry at Mobuto, or Halsey, or the UNSC for the deaths of his friends. Amazing what sense a well deserved bludgeoning will knock into even the thickest skulls.

Then it was Mobuto who had come to him, and as if a father, explained that Lukas was a member of the UNSC. A spartan, and that he had better start acting like it. He spent the better part of an hour simply dictating to Lukas the finer points of how lucky his situation was. Most notably, how lucky Lukas was that he had tried his crap on one of the smaller guards.

"Anger gets you no-where good, look at you now. Determination should be your attitude when something bothers you."

Determination. Well hopefully that would be all that Lukas needed for his new mission. He somehow doubted it. Yet he found his last 8 years of holding tight to that lesson had made it impossible to not hear an echo in his head. A somewhat arrogant one. Laughing at anything sent his way, the inner monologue had at some point transitioned from his father's warm honeyed voice to that of Mobuto. Repeating snippets of the man's rants like catchphrases. Now it just echoed again and again the phrase bring it on.

While the inner Mobuto seemed content to take this new task on, Lukas was still petrified. Laying on the table his muscles tense, refusing to count down with the nurse, for fear of the terror showing through. He began asking himself, how was he supposed to fight an enemy he couldn't actually fight? How was he supposed to make sure he survived? He started drifting out, his mind now asking about his friends, one by one he ran their faces and names through his mind, catching longer on those he liked slightly more.

---

UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

Lukas stared out the view port of the ship. The thumps of the jettisoned remains of his friends, surprisingly bit deeper than complete absence of seeing those lost in the forest. So many, were gone. Put in a real fight they would have won. Yet like always it took massive odds stacked against them, and no real way to fight back, to kill his friends. Four others were also being taken. Thankfully not dead. Though, Lukas imagined they possibly felt different about their situations.

Mobuto expressed his point of advice. The man told them there was difference in wasted and spent life. Ingrid had questioned him wondering which this fit, yet Mobuto hesitated then stated he didn't know. Each of Lukas's friends was on the brink, Haythem said what many surely felt. As Gillian piped up to soothe some of the anger Lukas looked down at her. She grasped his sleeve and he wrapped an arm around her to balance her.

"No need to apologize." He quietly said to her before turning his head to look at Mobuto as he left.

"Are we Spartans now?" He called after the man, half expecting him to turn, half expecting to be ignored.

[New Antonalia]

Cadet Lukas-041
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524

Lukas thought back over the last several. An act that always caused his muscles to instinctively bring his hand up to the three deep scars embedded in the short cut of dark hair on his head. A reminder of a lesson learned 8 years ago. One where he was again shown the human side of his father figure Mobuto. Lukas was far more content with his life and family now. No longer angry at Mobuto, or Halsey, or the UNSC for the deaths of his friends. Amazing what sense a well deserved bludgeoning will knock into even the thickest skulls.

Then it was Mobuto who had come to him, and as if a father, explained that Lukas was a member of the UNSC. A spartan, and that he had better start acting like it. He spent the better part of an hour simply dictating to Lukas the finer points of how lucky his situation was. Most notably, how lucky Lukas was that he had tried his crap on one of the smaller guards.

"Anger gets you no-where good, look at you now. Determination should be your attitude when something bothers you."

Determination. Well hopefully that would be all that Lukas needed for his new mission. He somehow doubted it. Yet he found his last 8 years of holding tight to that lesson had made it impossible to not hear an echo in his head. A somewhat arrogant one. Laughing at anything sent his way, the inner monologue had at some point transitioned from his father's warm honeyed voice to that of Mobuto. Repeating snippets of the man's rants like catchphrases. Now it just echoed again and again the phrase bring it on.

While the inner Mobuto seemed content to take this new task on, Lukas was still petrified. Laying on the table his muscles tense, refusing to count down with the nurse, for fear of the terror showing through. He began asking himself, how was he supposed to fight an enemy he couldn't actually fight? How was he supposed to make sure he survived? He started drifting out, his mind now asking about his friends, one by one he ran their faces and names through his mind, catching longer on those he liked slightly more.

---

UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

Lukas stared out the view port of the ship. The thumps of the jettisoned remains of his friends, surprisingly bit deeper than complete absence of seeing those lost in the forest. So many, were gone. Put in a real fight they would have won. Yet like always it took massive odds stacked against them, and no real way to fight back, to kill his friends. Four others were also being taken. Thankfully not dead. Though, Lukas imagined they possibly felt different about their situations.

Mobuto expressed his point of advice. The man told them there was difference in wasted and spent life. Ingrid had questioned him wondering which this fit, yet Mobuto hesitated then stated he didn't know. Each of Lukas's friends was on the brink, Haythem said what many surely felt. As Gillian piped up to soothe some of the anger Lukas looked down at her. She grasped his sleeve and he wrapped an arm around her to balance her.

"No need to apologize." He quietly said to her before turning his head to look at Mobuto as he left.

"Are we Spartans now?" He called after the man, half expecting him to turn, half expecting to be ignored.

Gilbert-214,
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

"Probably not." Gilbert said, doing his best to regain his composure. "Knowing Mobuto, we still have a lot to learn and a lot more training to do. But compared to what we went through, it'll probably be a walk in the park." He tried to smile and reassure his battle brothers and sisters, but he couldn't. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but he wondered if what he had sacrificed, what everyone else had sacrificed, was worth the reward. All he knew was that when this was over, he'd be a soldier, trained for nothing but following orders and killing. "I just hope that everything was worth it in the end."

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Cadet Susanna-124

Suzie could practically see the party favors blowing. It had been her birthday, all of their birthdays came and went like every other day. Not much fanfare was given for the passing years, and soon enough Suzie was fifteen years old. Years ago it had seemed so mature, so final and that THIS was when she would grow up. She didn't feel much older than she had when she was fourteen the day she woke up on her fifteenth, however.

The girl had taken a particular affinity towards psychology. It intrigued her, the study of sociology and the inner workings of not just the human mind, but how animal instincts worked as well. She had a fine inner knowledge of just how the human brain worked, in fact.

Later in her fifteenth year of life, after more rigorous training and shooting the shit with the other cadets, the time for augmentations came up. More and more of them died all of the time. By then, most had grown callous and angry. Bitter, sad, emotional, but they all retained remnants of their old personalities. Suzie had desperately clung to the joy she felt as a child, messing around and pulling mischievous stunts that would lead to the minor embarrassment of some other cadets. One of the cadets she had gained a particularly tight bond with was Jones. Her friends who had been placed in the Spartan program were dead; and she knew she felt bad. But she would certainly feel worse about Jones.

They looked at each other, grinning like idiots as they prepared for augmentation. Suzie gave a mock salute as Jones walked away, then pursed her lips as he walked away. The words and deathly appearance of Mobuto in the weeks previous had scared her bad; she didn't want to die. She didn't want Jones to die, nor Baburin or Ingrid or Haythem or Gillian or Deimos or Lukas or Petra or Rory or… well, any damn one of them. She didn't want any of them to die.

She was pushed into the medical room, eyes darting back and forth as doctors threw medical jargon at each other with precision. The Amazonian girl approached her surgery with gritted teeth and gleaming eyes, feeling a dose of analgesic knocking her out cold.

Bones were crushed. Skin torn, blood evaporated, brain cells set on fire, every fiber of her being ripped out of her body. Veins were tangled together, eyeballs exploding, nerve endings tied in neat little bows, her cerebellum doing a quick cartwheel down the length of her mind, the temporal lobe throwing up its pom-poms with a screaming “Yay! You did it!”

Of course, none of this actually happened, though it certainly felt like it had.

When she woke up, she was greeted by a smiling nurse. “Ah! Welcome back, sleeping beauty!” She grinned, and Suzie stared at her. Eventually, a faded smile appeared on her own face as she adjusted herself in her hospital bed.

“Let’s see… I know this will be a lot to take in, but please just bear with me.” Suzie looked at the now speaking nurse, confused and blinking. The nurse, noticing this, nodded. “See, uh, you’ve gone under a surgery. We call it ‘augmentation.’ You managed to survive it, as I see. That’s good! Don't worry, I’m sure everybody else is doing great though. But, um, the surgery has enlarged your skeletal structure, given you increased bone durability. You’re clocking in at around 6’11 now. Pretty cool, right?”

Suzie liked to look at things on the bright side, but did not think it was pretty cool. As the nurse droned on, she realized that these surgeries were not something they did to just any old child. Or had ever done to any child before.

Suzie was Guinea pig.

***

UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

Just minutes before, Suzie had been in the bathroom, puking her guts out into the toilet. The brief images she had seen of the failed attempts. The number of those they had lost. She was perhaps not someone who could handle it. She thought they were all doing well, but Jones had only deteriorated and deteriorated. The last tearful mock salute she gave he barely even recognized. Now, he was shaking uncontrollably in his wheelchair. Their families were shot off into space.

Family.

Family was her mother. Family was her grandma. Family was her grandpa. Family was her deadbeat dad, wherever the hell he had wandered off to.

But no; they were family. The cadets she had been with, that she had toiled through event after operation after mission with. Dead dead dead dead.

They were dead.

She entered the meeting room after wiping away her vomit, sitting down next to Baburin. She couldn't even feel the same hatred the others felt. She was finished. Defeated. They had broken her. Survive. Goddamned Survive. She mouthed “Mobuto” as she stared at her knees, wiping away tears to look tough. But she couldn't hide anything. She couldn't hide shit.

Suzie Sandford was ready to give up.

[Anowa]

Cadet Ingrid-045
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0003 Hours

Mobuto started to key the door, when he paused, shaking his head, Ingrid, Lukas, Baburin, could you come with me please. There's something you three need to know.

That piqued Ingrid's interest, what did they need to know? Something wrong with their medical reports? Where they about to 'wash out' as well? Regardless she was a bit terrified. When Mobuto had news that was discussed privately, it wasn't good.

Her gaze switched to everyone else's as they either dispersed or reamined, likely still thinking about recent events, her eye's locked with Suzie's.

Suzie Sandford was ready to give up.

Ingrid started to walk towards Mobuto, pausing to give Suzie a much needed hug before she continued.

[Ormata]

Cadet Baburin-048
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0003 Hours

“Ingrid, Lukas, Baburin, could you come with me please. There's something you three need to know.”

Baburin moved with the others. What’d he think Baburin needed to know? What’d he want to tell. What’d he want to tell that the rest shouldn’t know? Secrets had been secrets for too long, and as far as Baburin was concerned, he was just another SPARTAN. Just another kid with the rest. Just a survivor of a bullshit thing that killed too many too quickly for something he didn’t know would exist fully.

He watched Ingrid hug 124, and as he passed, Baburin paused too. One hand on her shoulder, all he could do was say, “They will not pass quietly. Remember that.” He shook his head. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, said the little voice. Don’t make promises here. Don’t make them now. Baburin wasn’t sure such a thing would keep on. He released her shoulder, moving with the other two off.

[Cressageland]

OOC: So this might have gaps in it but its something of a catch up post. Please flag any inconsistencies and apologies for the delay

Cadet Keenan-032
Epsilon Eridani, Reach, Military Reservation 01478-B
24/12/2519

Rory tried to console his teammates, and some of them did seem to perk up. He spoke with Baubrin for a bit, and they reminisced on their lost brothers and sisters and their fondest memories of them, whilst promising to never forget them.

Quietly, Rory held some frustration at the fact that it wasn't the wilderness that killed them as much as it was the negligence of the instructors. This would stick with him for some time.


Cadet Keenan-032
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524, 0914 Hours

Years had passed. Training had intensified, exercises had taken place and hard lessons learnt. The group had remained steady in numbers, no more casualties or major mishaps were made. Memories of their past life faded and questions of 'what's the end game here?' took their place. They grew, changed and were moulded under the gaze of their 'parents', the instructors.

All of this made it something of a surprise when Mobuto gave them something of an emotional speech telling them of how proud he was of them all. His 'objective' for their next mission however caused him immense concern. 'Survive'.

The next thing he knew Rory was being given an anaesthetic for reasons unknown. Soon after he thought he was under, it felt as though every nerve in his body had duplicated and then burst into flame. His body was racked with pain as he everything about him seemed to turn against itself. Eventually the pain stopped. Eventually he woke up and heard a nurse start talking too him.

The process you just underwent is called 'augmentation', and its meant to change you. To make you better. You're taller now, quicker and stronger too.'

Rory smiled to himself, it was like that classical song. 'Harder better faster stronger'. He didn't know what was to come.

'You're one of the lucky ones, it was quite easy for you. Most found it...more stressful'.

Rory's smiled was wiped off of his face. That meant some of them were hurt at best.

After this, she turned her face towards him and, with a teary smile, simply saying 'well done, you made it'

At this Rory fell back to sleep, fully exhausted from the endeavour.

Cadet Keenan-032
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 Hours

The remaining SPARTANs looked out the view port as the members of his family who didn't survive the operation (the majority of them) being pumped into space could be heard. Rory remained in shock. For now, nothing was left of his old, chirpy self. He didn't know if it was short term or a permanent change, but the world now seemed far darker than it had but days ago.

Not all of those who had failed the augmentation had died of course, some of them had simply been permanently crippled. Which was worse is purely objective and up for each man and woman to decide. Rory sure as hell didn't know.

Mobuto made an appearance, telling them that he was sorry, but that killing him in revenge would be futile. 'A life spent is better than a life wasted' was the excuse. Rory couldn't, wouldn't look him in the eye.

He barely registered as 3 other Spartans were pulled away, instead trying to focus on the rapidly diminishing specks that were his family. Once Mobuto was gone, he turned to his fellow survivors and saw that Susanna was seriously hurt. He walked over to her, put his arm around her and said

'it'll be okay. It's our job now to remember them. After all, we're not truly...gone whilst we're remembered.

[Beiarusia]

Cadet Gillian-013
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525

The Sergeant Major paused at the now open door before calling for Ingrid, Lukas, and Baburin to follow after. The three did as told, Gillian giving Lukas a small nod as if to assure him that she’d manage on her own from here. Once the door had closed behind them the girl turned to give her fallen friends one final, somber look and then made for the main exit to begin the unsteady walk to the Mess Hall or wherever else she could sit in peace. She would have invited the others but they no doubt intended to grieve in their own ways. Some would seek isolation; others the company of friends. Gillian only wanted a change of scenery. The funeral had left her feeling drained and hollow, more so than the surgery she was still recovering from, and no matter how lonely she may well feel she just couldn’t linger in that room any longer.

“Everything’ll be okay,” Gillian weakly muttered to Susanna in passing. A smile was offered as well but there were too many emotions for it to be sincere, but it was the thought that count, right?

The Mess Hall wasn’t too terribly far from where the Spartans had sent off their dead. A good thing as Gillian wasn’t feeling up to a long walk. Unlike the others the redheaded girl hadn’t completely healed yet from the augmentations, an unfortunate side-effect of her poor genetic markers (compared to, say, Ingrid), and quite frankly the doctors were pleasantly surprised of what little progress she’d already made let alone the fact that she pulled through to begin with. Less than perfect genetics also explained her stunted growth at just under 1.9 meters tall. Certainly above average, but not quite on par with the other Spartans. Another few days to a week and she’d maybe be rested to escape the fatigue weighing down on her shoulders, but until then Gillian would need to take it easy. That she did well enough. Upon entering the Mess Hall she fell into the nearest seat which just so happened to be the furthest from the food trays. A few personnel were in the room but no one paid much mind to the Spartan, preferring to look the other way as opposed to facing uncomfortable questions. Gillian didn’t mind. She merely laid her head atop the cool metal of the table and enjoyed being away from the dour mood of their friends’ passing. Left to her own thoughts she’d likely wander back into the territory of “what if” but ignored it for the time being. She’d distract herself as needed. Perhaps Ingrid or Lukas or any one of the others would have a similar thought and come to the Mess Hall. The ones that most certainly would were gone now but Gillian pushed that pained thought away.

Her stomach growled as the smell of food wafted over.

[Tayner]

Cadet Haythem-012
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en rout to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525

Many Cadets were leaving now, some being wheeled out, others at the Master Sergeant's request. Haythem saw Gillian-013 leave and also decided it would be a good idea for a change of scenery. He walked around the decks of the ship, being turned away from most of them by security personnel. He eventually found himself in the mess hall, and saw Gillian there too with her head rested on the table. Haythem thought it was a good time for some food, and grabbed two trays of food, one for himself and another for Gillian.

He walked over to the table where she was at, noticing that it was completely empty save for herself. There weren't many people in the mess at this hour, and no one questioned why he had two trays of food. As he sat down he slid one of the trays across the table to Gillian. "I found my way here. You look hungry, so I grabbed some food for you too." He said before he started to slowly pick at his food. He was hungry but he didn't have much of an appetite, but he managed force some bites of food into his stomach to avoid getting too hungry.

"So..." He started to say, but didn't continue on because he didn't know what to say.

[Beiarusia]

Cadet Haythem-012

Cadet Gillian-013
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525

The sound of footsteps and a tray being slid across the table. Gillian raised her head to see Haythem sitting across from her, picking at his food with some disinterest, he having grabbed her something as well. She righted herself and accepted the food with a small, “Thank you.” A slice of beef, mashed potatoes, and corn. Modest, but far from the worst thing the redhead had eaten over the years.

“So…” Haythem didn’t seem much for conversation but was making an effort.

Gillian, on the other hand, could talk for hours on end even after running through every topic conceivable, but given the shock of their augmentations and the death of their friends even the chatterbox was at a loss for words, a problem made all the worse as the few thoughts that did come to mind would all trace back to unpleasant territory. It didn’t help matters that Haythem had always been one of the more distant boys. Gillian had made time for everyone at one point or another, sometimes more, but a few of the Spartans seemed to prefer their own group of friends as opposed to the touchy-feely 013. Regardless the girl was determined if anything. She'd have died long ago if she wasn't.

“This is our first time off Reach. That’s exciting, isn’t it?” Gillian said, her voice betraying just how tired she was. She took a bit of her food, silently thanking the boy as her stomach was now somewhat content. “Back home, before Reach, me ma told stories about Earth. A fairytale. We were so far out that Reach and Earth and all the colonies seemed more like make-believe than truth. I don’t even know where Second Base is. I’d like to see it again if only to say hi. Do you ever get that feeling?”

[Tayner]

Cadet Haythem-012
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525

"Do you ever get that feeling?" Gillian asked him. In all honesty, Haythem hadn't thought about home for a while, let alone what he would do there.

"I haven't even thought of New Victoria in years. It was so long ago when I was there, I don't even think I remember what it was really like." Haythem said. "I suppose I'd say hello to my folks and apologize for disappearin' for more than a few years." Haythem said, unaware of his parent's fate. "My mom, she had the prettiest blue eyes and long brown hair, and my dad had a cool beard. They were always nice unless I got in trouble, unlike here where the trainers are always angry. What were your parents like?" Haythem asked.

He took a bite of the mashed potatoes and gravy, and found that it was easier to force down his throat than the rest of the food on his tray, despite the lack of appetite. He washed it down with some water and took another bite, and repeated again.

[Vacif]

Cadet Deimos-025
Epsilon Eridani, Reach Orbit, Medical Station Endurance
13/11/2524, 0947 Hours

Beep

Deimos' eyes twitched as they stayed closed shut.

Beep....
Beep.....
Beep....

Deimos' eyebrows scrunched together tightly as he began to stir.

Beep....Beep....Beep

The British-Greek mix let out a ragged breath as he awoke, taking in shallow breaths as his still ultra sensitive eyes were stung by the harsh white light of the room. As fast as he'd opened them, he closed them again. Tentatively, he slowly opened his eyes. Squinting, he could make out that his eyes were actually covered with some kind of fabric. As he made this realization, Deimos was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of stimulation from his body as he regained consciousness. His body burned, and ached, his head spun and pounded. His ears were assaulted by the droning of medical equipment hooked up to him. He felt like he'd just gone through the past nine or ten years as a child again all at once, times seven. Instinctively, he started to sit up, but his body groaned in protest as pain coursed through his body. He opened his mouth to yell in pain, but his voice died in his throat. Instead he simply gaped in pain as he collapsed back into bed. His brain started to untangle itself and comprehend the information around him. Remarkably fast, even for him, he understood his situation. It hurt to think, but he started to recall information pertaining to the events leading up to where he was. Some kind of enhancement surgery. He had a bad feeling going in, he supposed his feeling was now justified. In all, this had taken about three seconds.

Deciding to keep his eyes closed, his enhanced hearing picked up sets of faint foot steps, even through the metal walls of the Atlas. Not a moment after did he hear the automatic whir of a pneumatic door opening. Grimacing as he did this, he turned his head towards the direction of the sound.

The voice of a tired yet familiar sounding man came into existence, presumably the source of the foot steps. He didn't know where he knew the voice from, but it was familiar. "Good...m-morning 025." the man begun with a sigh. Never a good sign. "If you remember, you've undergone an incredibly taxing enhancement surgery called augmentation. As we speak you are now faster, better, and stronger in basically every way, shape, or form. You are now seven feet, one inch and a half, and 129 kilograms. Unfortunately this process is not without its faults. You will have to relearn basic motors kills, and get acquainted with your new physical and mental capabilities. You will not be able to speak, or perceive time for some time, and in your case see. Your eyes haven't quite adapted to the occipital capillary reversal procedure, so your eyes will be ultra-sensitive for an increased amount of time. As your body heals from the surgery, you will be in immense amounts of pain. This is normal. Do not be alarmed, but you have been restrained to the bed for your health and safety. You should make a full recovery."

There was a pause, more information. However it didn't appear to be good news. Dealing from the man's silence, this was hard on him, and this wasn't the first news being delivered. He seemed to of disclosed all available information about him, so the only logical conclusion would be....

The others....

"Unfortunately there were...complications. Many of your fellow Spartans didn't make it. This augmentation was very risky, and while luckily many of you have survived, and will recover. Many will not."

Deimos sat in silence as he digested the information. The corner of his mouth twitched as he attempted to formulate some kind of words. Questions. Who, how many, and how. His jaw trembled as he tried to speak, but nothing came out. The speaker however seemed to already know the question. Or rather, questions. "I'll spare you the details, but among the deceased are...."

---

UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0000 hours

Even now, Deimos was still recovering. Nestled around his eyes were gauze protecting his still very sensitive eyes. With the help of Alpha, his close and faithful friend since the start, they marched together to their graduation ceremony/funeral. He stood stock still in silence throughout the entire service. He didn't need sight to see their sad situation. To him, Mobuto's reveal was no shocker. It wouldn't make sense not to tell him. It wasn't like he could of done anything about it. In the end it was the science team's project. Mobuto and the rest of the instructors were just the grunts tasked with carrying the task out. However he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness and disappointment. It was hard not to be hurt in a situation like this. Nothing particularly was aimed at Mobuto, or anything in specific so much as everything in general.

He could feel the tension and sadness in the air. Those oddly bright and optimistic individuals were now sullen souls, quitted from the loss. If he could still see, the image in front of him wouldn't be too far from what he'd imagined.

Regarding Mobuto's last bit of sage advice, whether or not they'd wasted or spent these lives was entirely up to them. If the remaining 18 simply sat there and preformed sub-par, or normally, they would be wasted. If they failed their mission, they would be wasted. If they didn't save lives. They would be wasted. They had to make up for those lost. But if they succeeded, surpassed all expectation, against any odds. If they save humanity from itself, bring peace, wage a war from the shadows the insurrection could not possibly fathom, if they truly were humanity's sword and shield. Then they had their answer.

After sometime, they began to file out. Those incapable of independent movement were wheeled out of the room. As for those capable of walking by themselves, well he'd heard some stomachs growling, and talks of heading to the galley. Whatever had been done to them also increased their caloric intake ten-fold.

It...didn't feel right simply just leaving on the note they were on, but there was nothing else to be said. It was over now. Based on his memory, he turned on his heel to face the direction of the exit. Using his mouth, he created a small clicking sound to help him navigate, like echo-location. Alpha walked with him, serving as a helping hand should he run into any difficulties along the way.

...

They reached the galley soon enough. Deimos still had trouble telling the time, what with them being in space, and not having a sense of time for nearly a month. Because Deimos couldn't quite use his hands to wield a fork and knife, the galley cooks had been instructed to serve him a kind of protein shake/liquid meal supplement. Reminiscent of the nutrient paste from their first day in boot camp. This however was much more filling, and flavorful. Whoever was in charge of his meals had been kind enough to add flavour additives to his meal. After a short sip of his current meal supplement, he concluded that while it probably wasn't made of strawberries, it sure did taste like it.

With the help of Alpha, Deimos was eased onto the metal galley/cafeteria benches. He caught tail bits of the tables occupants conversations, but not enough to string anything together. He cold however hear the clinking of dinnerware as knives ad forks clinked against trays. Waiting to be informed about what they were talking about, he sipped his meal supplement.

"Hey guys...thinking about home, eh?" Alpha asked hoarsely. Her voice strained from the injury of her augmentation, and their current situation.

[Second Helghan Empire]

Cadet Lukas-041
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0003 Hours

Lukas had been very surprised when he, Baburin, and Ingrid had been called away from the others by Mobuto. He took a second to catch the eyes of both his fellows being pulled away before looking back to Mobuto and finally Gillian. She encourage him and he returned it with a weak smile. He felt sure 45 and 48 felt the same as he confused and more than a little worried at the reasoning of their separation from the others.

The trio moved after Mobuto, each stopping in turn, offering less physical encouragement with each pass by 124. Ingrid Hugging her, Baburin warmly gripping her shoulder, and lastly Lukas light patting her arm and giving a reassuring nod. He turned and half limped half jogged to catch the other. Out of breath and in sever pain after only a few feet. It would still be time till he was able to regain his capabilities. Much time to be truly honest.

Having caught the others Lukas again caught their eyes hoping to gather what they were thinking. He wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or simply reassure his friends. Either way he was unable to gather any more than he already had. He shivered at the prospect of being washed out. Was something wrong with him he hadn't identified yet?

Sighing a calming breath Lukas regained himself and lifted his shoulders and chin. Dropping his limp as much as was possible in his condition and trying to keep his militant stride they had all acquired through their lives on reach. Lukas stared into Mobuto's back as he followed him trying to keep his mind clear of the prospects of their washing out, yet he couldn't shake the fear entirely as it continued to gnaw on the back of his brain.

[Anowa]

Cadet Ingrid-044
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0003 Hours

As Mobuto lead the trio through the ship, Ingrid couldn't help but grimace after every step. Even now, almost a month after the augmentations, she could feel pain wracking her body from the jolt of walking.... Walking. She never thought she'd have to relearn how to walk, nor talk, nor bloody eat. God it was the past month that they could trul experience what it was like to be a toddler again.

Regardless of the past situation, Ingrid was now focused on Mobuto, who was now leading them into a temp office. They followed him in, the first thing she noticed were the three boxes upon the desk, two polymer and one made of wood, likely oak. They were being promoted, one of them to an Non-com. The anxiety she felt prior at the risk of washing out was lifted from her shoulders. And as Mobuto gave one of the three boxes to each of them, the anxiety was replaced by something else. Fear. She was in command of people now, prior her orders would usually result in mild injury should they be wrong, now, a single mistake could mean death to an entire squad. Her brothers and sisters could die because of her mistakes.

She opened the box, and despite already knowing what an oak box would represent, she felt herself feeling slightly more nauseous than usual. Chief Petty Officer, dear god she had command over every enlisted member of the Navy, hell even the Marine Corp. In situations like this, where the whole weight of what just happened crashed into her, she started to hyperventilate, staring at the new pins and shoulder stripes. She felt a hand close around her wrist, and her gaze snapped to the offender, Mobuto.

"You'll be fine Ingrid, don't think about it too much. Just let the cards fall where they may." Such advise was hardly comforting, but seeing as Mobuto was only promoted what felt like days ago, from Staff Sergeant to Sergeant Major, she knew that he had felt the same at such an event. She closed her eyes and nodded, getting her breathing under control.

"Congratulations you three. Go ahead and tell the others that they'll be getting their own pins once we get back to Reach. Not a lot of room for Polymer boxes on board. Dismissed."

[Ormata]

Cadet Baburin-048
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525, 0003 Hours

"You'll be fine Ingrid, don't think about it too much. Just let the cards fall where they may." Such advise was hardly comforting, but seeing as Mobuto was only promoted what felt like days ago, from Staff Sergeant to Sergeant Major, she knew that he had felt the same at such an event. She closed her eyes and nodded, getting her breathing under control.

"Congratulations you three. Go ahead and tell the others that they'll be getting their own pins once we get back to Reach. Not a lot of room for Polymer boxes on board. Dismissed."

“Oh,” was all Baburin could really say. A promotion. A promotion. A promotion. He outranked his dad, now, came a wayward thought. Funny, outranking one’s own dad by the age of fifteen. Funny, but...damn. Promoting kids seemed damn strange. Promoting kids sent a pit into Baburin’s stomach. He was a Petty Officer, First Class. He had command of some, probably, but Ingrid? Chief Petty Officer were damn big shoes one would fill.

He had confidence she would fill her boots. Baburin closed his hand on the shoulder stripes and pin, standing at attention to Mobuto. With a tight nod, he saluted, rigid, before about-facing and marching out of the room. Once he exited the room, he let-out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been keeping. He hadn’t breathed at all during the walk over, nor the release of the boxes.

Baburin breathed, deeply and slowly. Passing-out from hyperventilation wouldn’t look good, especially not now. Especially not going to...wherever they were going too. If he did that then he’d not be a soldier. He wouldn’t be professional. He wouldn’t be strong. Well...he wouldn’t be trained, at the very least. Baburin placated himself by saying that he wasn’t going to do that, and therefore there was no point in further worrying.

The SPARTAN waited, outside, for his other two NCOs. A little smile drifted onto his face. He was a Petty Officer.

[The Krogan]

Cadet Adrasteia-056
UNSC Carrier Atlas, en route to Lambda Serpentis
15/01/2525

Thwump... Thwump.... Thwump...Thwump

The sound of the urns containing the ashes of the dead being fired into space echoed slightly within the confines of the chamber the surviving Spartans occupied. The almost pitifully small group waited diligently in respect for the fallen as their remains were cast into the cold embrace of space. All were effected by the loss to varying degrees, and dealt with it in their own way. To those who looked to Adrasteia Callidora, they would see a stone facade placed upon her face, an expressionless fortress of a girl confined to a wheelchair. Her muscle tissue not yet having fully recovered from the ordeal the augmentation had put her through, the doctors had sentenced her to this mobile prison when she needed to move "long" distances. As for any sign of mourning from the girl, a superficial glance would show none at all. Just a straight backed, eyes forward, super soldier to be, recovering from her surgery. No tears welled within her eyes like some of the others, anger did not rear its ugly head upon her face, for all intents and purpose she appeared to be just existing in the moment.

Nothing could be further from the truth, as a storm of rage was ripping through her very being at that moment, the flash of her eyes the only real tip off. While she could claim to be angry for a variety of reasons if her assigned therapist pressed the subject, and even had a few she believed in, Adrasteia did not really know why. Ever since she had awoken from the surgery an ember within her chest had been slowly fanned into a raging fire, stoked by each piece of news she received. First there had been the doctors, skirting around the issue of her dead comrades like she was some precious snowflake. She hated when people did that, and when they explained why every fiber of her being felt like it was on fire it only compounded the anger. Soon they were talking about months of therapy, of being restricted to beds and wheelchairs for a time while her body recovered. It was irrational of her but soon she was nearly frothing at the mouth, her muscles twitching grotesquely as a sign of her rage. Causing the medical staff to finally get the message, prompting them to put her under before she tried something drastic. She had experienced such emotions often enough before, even as a young child at school she had been taken with bouts of sudden rage. That was different though, those times there was always an objective to be reached, anger was a force directed against her "enemies". Either to cow them into submission or assist with beating them into it, which was how she had formed her so called beta cliche. Having overheard a couple of the programs personnel talking about when they thought no one could hear.

That had changed though when she came here, where everyone could be top dog, such crude methods of survival she had used before became obsolete. She needed to be smart, use force only when needed, and even be somewhat charismatic at times; so she had changed to meet the environment. Here she finally found others who could be trusted with the mantel of friend, and surprisingly made a few. Though even here she accumulated a small following of so called lackeys, though she preferred the term soldiers when reflecting on it. At a young age she had come to the hypothesis that soldiers could be very useful in ones continued survival. They could be as loyal as a friend, but came with attributes that made them very useful... expendability being one. Here though, the lines between soldier and friend had blurred, they had become more valuable to her then they had when she was a toddler. One for that matter, may have meant more then she would have liked... In fact, the more she thought about it the more she suspected a good deal of the anger inside was from the loss.

That can't be all though... she debated within. Her inability to control her body and this... weakness of being a cripple, if only briefly, was playing its part to. It was then that she touched upon it, the best reason she could think of for all the rage stirring within her. It was her weakness, of body and conviction that was driving her insane... But she had reaped her reward now.

The weak and unlucky had been culled from their number, all her friends and soldiers were gone now. All that was left were a handful of familiar faces that she had only talked to a few times in passing. She glanced at the others through her peripheral vision as Mobuto confessed his knowledge of this particular stage in their development to the assembly. She could really care less about his big revelation or the reason he kept it from them, she wasn't mad at him or any of the others, not really. Those that were still here were the best of the best, the others well, they weren't meant to be here.

Yes... maybe it is best they passed now... The path only gets harder from here, she thought to herself as Mobuto gave them some parting advice about the difference between lives spent and wasted. Eliciting a question from Ingrid, with an answer that was less then reassuring from their superior. It was the response to this from her fellow Spartans that nearly caused her to choke to death in a sudden blinding rage. She could practically taste the defeatism in the air, hear the tears fall from watery eyes, feel the anger permeating in the room. She was like a shark with blood in the water, her arms began to twitch and her neck muscles grew taught as her thoughts raced.

I'm surrounded by weaklings! Weak weak weak fools and babies! God I hate them all!... My soldiers, my friends, were better then these snowflakes, why why why!?... I'll ki. Her thoughts were interrupted by the light yet firm touch of the orderly upon her shoulder, well versed now with recognizing her spells. Her already normally sore muscles felt like they were on fire from the tips of her fingers to deep within her chest. Suddenly she noticed she had bent the end of the armrests inwards with her newfound strength. The orderly began to whisper the countdown behind her, which she quickly joined him in doing. By the time they hit zero she no longer felt the dragon stirring within, though she was still miffed.

By then Ingrid and the other had left with Mobuto, those not having been called were beginning to disperse as well, some already long gone.

"It's time to take your pills 56," The orderly stated behind her, grabbing the wheelchair and pushing it towards the hallway leading to the mess hall.

"I'm crippled not dead, stop pushing!" she snarled back, causing him to let go with a sigh. He knew full well he shouldn't let her push herself around, especially after having strained herself, but what the hell was he going to do about it really. So Adrasteia gingerly rolled her way towards the mess, her current medical guardian following diligently behind. She glanced at 124 as she passed, she knew that she should offer some form of encouragement or at least a good lecture on being strong. But right now she had the sinking feeling that if she stopped she would probably punch the girl in the face, so she continued on.

There were a few other already eating at the mess, and after having gotten her tray, perching it perilously on her lap, she paused. Now came the time to adapt, she needed to make decisions and plan for survival, she needed soldiers again. Though deep down, in a secret place, she hoped to maybe have a friend again. Adrasteia wheeled herself to the table occupied by the other Spartans, though she parked herself on the end. Close enough to be acknowledged, but far enough not to demand conversation, not especially thrilled with their current topic of each others homes. That was another life from another time, she had let that go long ago.

So with pills on the side, Adrasteia began to dig in.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Cadet Susanna-124

Suzie felt each and every sign of comfort. Towards Ingrid’s hug, she attempted to grapple the girl back but failed to, instead staring at her feet during the embrace. She appreciated it, and she wanted to show that. The girl smiled at Ingrid, a weak and trembling but genuine smile. Baburin placed a hand on her shoulder afterward, only saying “They will not pass quietly. Remember that.” before disappearing with Lukas and Ingrid. She provided a feeble “Yeah.” It happened to be just loud enough for Baburin to hear.

Gillian provided her with a smile. It wasn't exactly… sincere, but Suzie smiled back regardless. It too was a mask; but the two of them were trying their hardest to make it. They had both lost great friends. Suzie was still touchy on the family terminology.

Next up came Rory, who wrapped an arm around her with caution. Her stomach fluttered before a second, before she realized it was only Rory and eased herself.

”It’ll be okay. It's our job now to remember them. After all, we're not truly...gone whilst we're remembered.”

He was right, she was sure. At least, it sounded like he was right.

“Thanks.” She noticed Lukas patting her on the arm as he walked past as well, and she smiled with appreciation. After a few moments with Rory, the young girl stood up and sniffled. “C’mon. We should go to the mess with the Gillian and Haythem.”

She led Rory to the cafeteria, where she refused to eat a thing. Instead, she only sat down with Haythem, Gillian, Alpha, and Deimos. She awaited Rory to sit next to her, as well as the response of Gillian and Haythem to Alpha’s question.