>>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-..."