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Chapter 2: The way I live my life
February 6th, 2525 standard military calendar: UNSC Assault Cruiser Yamamoto's Turn
Fairchild watched the holo-projection light the darkened briefing room with images from the SPARTAN's helmet cam. Fourteen men charged, and fourteen men fell from precision accuracy shooting. The lights of the bunker were next to go, and indicators showed grenades being thrown into the waiting cement cavern. Perfect crowd control, Colonel Fairchild thought, Halsey's freaks really knew their stuff. The footage continued, and the camera moved in doors, a blackened serrated knife spreading thick ichors in the darkened hallways. Gunfire, chaos, and then finally the ODSTs arriving early to the drop zone, there was clearly a botched execution here. The Spartan had an air tight case, and Fairchild knew it, he was not pleased by this. The mission had been botched, and although the rebel base had been destroyed, the use of nuclear arsenal had rendered the facility unusable; it would take a full year to reestablish a processing facility now on Taunith II. A delay that would cost many lives in the months to come. Still the evidence was there, and the worst of Dr. Halsey's breed had still accomplished his mission with reckless efficiency, this one should have failed, should have been cut down in the infiltration, his marks were the worst amongst all of the Spartans rated by ONI.
Fairchild turned as the remainder of the staff sat in the darkness eyeing the projection. There was thirty more minutes to play, it would entail the deaths of over fifty six rebel soldiers and commanding officers within the bunker as the Spartan entered the facility. The room Fairchild sat in was arranged as an inverted V with two long tables angled together to narrow towards the far side of the room. Behind the apex of the formation projectors sat to provide visual data. Before them in between the two rows stood the officer in question, Petty Officer Spartan 079, no name, just number. Dressed in his Whites as per military review, he was young but a giant in that room. Taller by a head than any of the ONI personnel that were eyeing his performance now, he stood with a rigorous defiance. Fairchild didn't like him, he had heard rumors of the program, they had slaughtered marines in the training of these monsters. It didn't sit right with him, sending good soldiers to their deaths just to train other soldiers deemed more valuable by the higher ups. Spartan 079 disgusted him.
Scott stood with rigorous attention, the meeting was to give a final evaluation to his performance abilities and to verify Dr.Halsey's and Chief Mendez's evaluation of him. He had been fighting against the system since he was old enough to enter combat drills, since he asked why it what the difference was between incapacitate and kill. Scott felt the twinge of defiance within him, but also the utter loyalty that all the Spartan's felt, this was his life, his way of life. Not his job, but his purpose in life, all of humanity depended upon his brothers and sisters now. His role in the UNSC was substantially different now that the covenant had arrived, and he saw no error in his mind with the stark contrast his former life as a soldier had before this. Project Mjolnir had changed that enough for him. He was a Spartan and knew he was a pawn of a greater power, there was no question of it, but now he had a true purpose, this was less a matter of moral relevancy now and more in his mind an imperative of survival. He knew he had changed again in these last few months, he was once again the pride of the navy, and he was once again the soldier they had trained, created, and perfected. In his mind he didn't understand any more, but the guilt was gone, the afterthought was gone. He didn't care about the implications of his missions, so long as he was there on the front lines. So long as he was with his family.
The film continued as Fairchild reviewed Spartan 079's confidential ONI file one last time, his psych profile was all over the board. At times it seemed as a small child he had been incredibly adaptive, a perfect just like every other Spartan. Physically he was strong, grew fast, reacted faster, and became smart and eager to learn with a voracious appetite for knowledge. In combat training he was adept and vicious, but that was training. It was actual missions that showed a hesitation for him to kill, that were what set him apart, he took more beatings and hurt himself more than those who opposed him. He was the last of them to kill. But worse yet, was the psych profile of him after he had killed, it was almost as if he excelled it, almost too much. Spartan 079 was proof enough of the dangers of Halsey's sick experiment to make perfect soldiers with no morality, no guilt to restrain them in combat.
As he grew older though the psych profiles changed, it seemed the pangs of guilt, emotions across the board, though smart and adaptable like all the other Spartan IIs, he kept changing. He learned the skills to survive, but did not stand out, and the more he was punished the more he defied. And then worst of all, he survived the implants, making him irreplaceable. The implants changed him yet again, Dr.Halsey attributed his wild psych evaluations to his intelligence, suggestions of him using the visitations with ONI specialists as a means to test his logic, perhaps he thought of them as another trial. Halsey was full of shit, Fairchild thought, the kid was damaged, the whole program had ruined him. Born to kill, steeped in innocent blood, ripe with guilty consciences and closed doors, this was exactly what was wrong with the Navy these days. There was no more honor.
Fairchild's hands felt the smooth metal of the desk and looked up amid the blue glow of the mission report, some of the ONI brass there were actually looking pleased with Spartan 079's performance. Colonel Adrian Yu actually seemed to be smiling his crinkled face into a fleshy knot as the Spartan's hands rigged the nuclear weapon in its case while at the same time shooting three guards that attempted to flush him out with automatic weapons fire. The Spartan still stood there at rigid attention, his blue eyes and short cropped dark hair as hard as his demeanor. Finally the mission file was completed, amid a Pelican drop ship's cabin closing in around the camera, the lights in the room raised.
"Most impressive Spartan 079" a voice to Fairchild's left commented. "Tell me though, how would you rate the performance of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers on this exercise?"
"I'm afraid, sir, I have insufficient data at this time to evaluate the insertion procedures of the ODSTs sir. It is my personal feelings though sir, that the jump window was prematurely executed, and that personnel loss could have been reduced given more rigorous adherence to the mission clock as per my original briefing."
The kid was smart, too smart. Fairchild grimaced listening to the Spartan bullshit his way through the proceeding. Those marines had been some of the bravest men he had ever commanded, and there were no other options, that damned wind was picking up and Abrams would have still dropped those boys into the tempest no matter what. Secretly he wished he had known who had called the drop, no matter what thirty men and women were dead, by gunfire or by the ensuing blast from detonating a stolen nuclear weapon. This Spartan had killed a lot of men. "How do you justify the use of the rebel weapons of mass destruction in the accomplishment of your mission Spartan 079, were you not given explicit instructions to prepare for the ODST's insertion and leave the facility intact?" A voice to Fairchild's right spoke up.
"That was the alpha priority mission parameters Sir," the Spartan replied without hesitation, how far ahead was this freak thinking Fairchild wondered. "With the corruption of their drop zone by the increased troop presence and radio silence, I prepared to undertake beta parameters."
"Are you aware that the entirety of the Hell-jumper's team was lost in the ensuing blast Spartan 079?" Another ONI brass interrogated.
"It was my understanding that the entire team had already been lost to enemy forces or failed drop execution sir. I refrained from activating the nuclear device until I was certain that all alpha priority parameters had been compromised. Sir."
"Do you feel you executed your mission to the best of your ability Spartan 079?" Fairchild's harsh voice spoke before his brain could stop it, he knew he had done the one thing he didn't wish to do, the Spartan could now defend himself.
Scott stood stoically; he eyed the men and women from behind their desks. They were all part of ONI, they were all attached to the evaluation of Dr.Halsey's work in section 3. "I do not sir," he replied thinking quickly, he already knew how to protect his brothers and sisters, his mother.
"Would you care to explain yourself Spartan 079?" the voice came from another faceless ONI colonel scrutinizing him.
"Sir, I know I could have accomplished this mission with zero casualties had it been ordered. The failing sir was in the Orbital Troop drop that compromised my mission's alpha priorities, there was no option to control the enemy troop presence there once detected, the base was too hot, so I blew it, Sir." He finished his statement, and felt their hard eyes on him. He was being honest like Dr.Halsey had insisted he be so many years ago, he knew he was in a no win scenario, the worst missions he could get. Someone sacrificed thirty marine lives to put a black mark on his record, to mar the face of the SPARTAN II project. "The mission, sir, was botched, on purpos. I didn't kill those men, the rebel soldiers did. I did my best to ensure that no other marines would die taking that bunker sir."
"You are dismissed Spartan 079," he heard Colonel Fairchild's angry voice hang in the air as it filled the rooms with it's wrecked baritone, "you are of course well aware that any and all information pertaining to this mission is classified and not to be repeated to anyone anywhere, even to Dr.Halsey or your fellow Spartans."
"Sir, yes Sir." Was all Scott said as he turned and marched out of the room. He knew he hadn't dodged the bullet, only made the shooter adjust his lead for a second longer.
Fairchild watched the screens as the ONI brass left the room, many of them had already written their report during the mission debriefing, some were impressed, some wanted him for their own purposes, some were working for higher powers. Fairchild despised these men he worked with, he was eager to get back to Reach, feeling too confined in the tight hallways of the Assault Cruiser. Too close to these surreptitious bastards, he thought to himself, why did I ever accept that invitation? Fairchild grimaced remembering all his ambition had cost him, selling his soul as a navy man fifteen years ago. And all he had seen and done disgusted him, this Spartan had just as much blood on his hands though, the only difference was that the boy had never chosen this life.
Fairchild hated him already, Spartan 079, Abrams, Dr.Halsey, his superior officers. What they were doing was wrong, there was no greater justification for this, alien menace or not. Covenant invasion fleet or not, they were wasting lives, taking men and women and sending them to be slaughtered. His conscience was too heavy now after fifteen years of this work, he was good at his job, simply too good, he was invaluable and always sent to do the wet work. This Spartan would have the same fate as him, everyone knew the program's potential, and that was why so many forces wanted to deride the project. They all wanted a super soldier of their own, and now Spartan 079 was their prime candidate.
His psych evaluations were the perfect precedent for removal from the project, once removed they would take him somewhere safe, hidden, and reprogram him. Make him into the murdering automatons that served ONI's section one. Fairchild felt his insides move, remembering the image of the sentry's helmet popping like an egg shell under the Spartan's grip. Who knows who would be the target of ONI section one's super assassin if they got him. With that in mind Fairchild knew what he had to do.
Three days later on reach, ONI HQ received a glowing report from Colonel Richard M. Fairchild detailing the success and adaptability of Spartan 079. He described the man's intuition and abilities exactly on par with Dr.Halsey's evaluation of the boy in the soldier's husk. Fairchild enjoyed his one penance for his many sins, a twinge of guilt removed from his conscience. It still did nothing for the ghosts that came before him that night though, remembering the men and women he had ordered to their deaths, the darkened memories always coming to the fore front of his mind as he sipped his bourbon, staring out the rain slicked window. Fairchild hated himself; he hated what he had let himself become: a pawn.
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