Welcome to Gaia! ::

0539 HOURS, NOVEMBER 2, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
BETA SYGMA SYSTEM , PLANET VERCROUSE , BELFAST BASE ,
UNSC UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY

_____________________________________________________



SPARTAN-108 looked off toward the door as he heard yet another announcement echo through the hall outside, speaking of troop transports and landing zones. He'd heard the fleet above was getting ready for something, and that they'd all have to be combat ready by 0535, though it didn't exactly apply to him currently. The fairly tall soldier was without his armor for once, his flesh pale against the artificial light of the room the technicians told him to wait in. The second he got down here he was ordered in for some tests and adjustments to be made for his MJOLNIR Mark VI. He hoped he could manage to get back into his suit before they'd been called to full alert due to some unknown trouble.

The man simply shifted around in his temporary outfit that he'd been given, not bothering to actually see what it was as his fashion sense was somehow lacking these days. He couldn't help but block out the thought that the Covenant had found this place, instantly recalling the fate of Reach and the rest of his classmates while he'd been off with some escort force heading off to an amazingly distant planet. He didn't even know the UNSC had such a facility in one of the furthest systems. He knew he couldn't bother asking questions, or ask to return to Reach to fight while on a mission that was supposedly top secret.

Logan shrugged off his thoughts on the past and tried to focus on the present, which now seemed to represent the exact same danger. A thought deep within his mind wanted the Covenant to attack this place, so that he could possibly pay back those who had died in vain to save Reach. His concentration was broken suddenly as the motion-sensing door slid open and a fresh-faced tech walked in. He quickly saluted, which wasn't necessary, before gesturing to follow him. He guessed the man was slightly nervous, as even outside of his armor the Spartan was a sight to behold. He slid from the cold examination table he had made his seat and followed him without question down the sterile passage.

The slightly vulernable soldier wandered along with him until they reached a door that appeared to be almost exactly the same as all the others, only with a slightly more advanced locking mechanism, which took a minute or so the for the tech to unlock for him. The door slid open like all the rest, revealing a much darker room within. Digital displays and monitors lined the several consoles that were placed throughout the relatively large room. A dozen or so technicians were scattered about, checking readouts that looked like gibberish to him and tapping on multiple command ports. On the opposite end of the room, though, sealed in its own clear cylinder of glass was his armor. The faded green of his old plating was now gone, replaced with a perfectly shadowed grey with what seemed to be millions of tiny crystals of some material painted over it, possibly some refractive coating for him. The face plate was the only part that held the same hue, the other color suitable only for a grey wolf as he felt he had a whole new peice of equipment to get used to.

0547 HOURS, NOVEMBER 2, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
BETA SYGMA SYSTEM , PLANET VERCROUSE , BELFAST BASE ,
UNSC UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY

_____________________________________________________


The Spartan gazed curiously through his HUD at the technicians as they watched his every response with unending interest, his armor seeming to be the same so far when seen from the inside. The built in COM system clicked on and a meek-sounding male voice came through. "Okay, Lieutenant, you're free to move. We don't have much time, and we've only made a few adjustments, so this won't take long." The man he noticed was speaking to him touched something he couldn't see from this angle, and a small image of his armor popped up near his left eye, visibly showing what the tech would be saying. "We've replaced your old fusion reactor with a newer, more efficient model created from recently obtained information and equipment."

The man's words translated into others within his mind, telling him they'd stolen better technology from the Covenant as he continued speaking. "We've managed to install a prototype shield system designed with a higher output than the last, putting the extra power you're getting from your advanced power core into creating and maintaining a more powerful protective shield." Logan was only slightly surprised at suddenly having a more effective shield than before, wishing they could have gotten it to them sooner so that maybe some of his comrades could have survived to fight on. The Spartan was even less surprised when the tech's voice took on a more ominous tone. "We haven't worked all of the kinks out, yet..."

0547 HOURS, NOVEMBER 2, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
BETA SYGMA SYSTEM , PLANET VERCROUSE , BELFAST BASE ,
UNSC ARMORY , CORRIDOR OF ARMS
_____________________________________________________



"You can't dwell on that past, and all you can do is accept the future, and acknowledge the present" he said to himself before walking inside and to the armory. He made one left, another right, two more lefts and then a 50 meter walk down a flight of stairs to get to the armory. It was a hassle to get there, but a blessing once you saw the endless rows of weapons. He knew what he wanted so he didn't have to go "window shopping" around the place. There was a marine who snapped to attention and saluted the Lieutenant as he entered. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss from the hydro lock mechanisms inside and smile found it's way onto Michael's face.

"All right, now I grab my sniper and that pulse action rifle" he said as he began to walk down the hall. The first thing he came upon was a huge shelf of pistols, ammunition for the pistols, and holsters. He thought about it for a moment before grabbing two holsters, one for the right hip and one for the left. Michael reached out and picked out the shiniest, cleanest, and most likely to be efficient M6D Pistol Cut-Away, and as much M-225 12.7x40mm SAP-HP ammunition that he could store. He strapped on the holsters, placed the pistols in each, and put away his ammunition before moving on down the shelves. The next thing he came upon was a shelf with M9 HE DP Fragmentation Grenades stacked upon it, and confiscated Covenant Plasma Grenades just below the fragmentation's. He grabbed two of each, placing them on his belt for easy access.

A grin had swept across the Lieutenant's face as he came upon the M90-CAWS Shotgun, just one shelf over from the grenades. He grabbed one of them and 6 cases of shells, stashing the shells away in his armor and the shotgun on his back. But that wasn't good enough! Oh no, he had his eyes on this one gun for a long time. Michael walked down the corridor of arms looking for his preferred weapon. "MA5B . . . MA5K . . . BR55 . . . MA6B!" He said loudly to himself in excitement after counting off all the other weapons. He reached up, grabbed the MA6B Pulse Action Assault Rifle and as many 10MM shredder rounds as he could hold. "Ok, now I go and grab the sniper" he said to himself as he began to walk down the corridor of arms, eying each of the weapons like a child in a candy shop. About ten shelves down he came upon the SRS99C Sniper Rifle. Just as he was about to grab the weapon he spotted another sniper, one he hadn't seen before. He looked down at the tab with the name of the weapon on it, and his face was alighted with surprise.

"78D- Sniper Modified Long Gun" it read, and Michael wasn't surprised to see the caliber of bullet the majestic piece of weaponry fired. "15MM Shredder Cased Flunker Specials (Armor Piercing)" said the box of ammunition. There was almost no hesitation in grabbing the weapon, placing it on his back with the Shotgun, and grabbing all the ammunition he could carry for the weapon. The Lieutenant, satisfied with his findings, went down a little deeper into the corridor to grab an Oracle Scope for his MA6B Pulse Action Assault Rifle. Once he had the scope, he attached it to the weapon and exited the armory. On his way out the soldier at the door said, "Sir, you need to pay for those." Michael turned and looked at the soldier with a look of shut-the-hell-up on his face before replying, "son, this is war. I'll pay for these weapons in covenant blood." The soldier seemed satisfied with the answer because he just nodded his head and saluted the Lieutenant.

○

__○ __○

It was another 50 meter walked to the top of the stairs, and instead of turning right to go back, he made a left to the latrines where he did his business. Once he was satisfied and re leaved of the pressure in his gut he headed back up to the surface. Michael walked past the stairs to the armory, made two rights, one left, and another right exiting into the hangar where he sat down on a crate of what seemed to be missiles for the pelicans. Lieutenant Hammer looked around at the hundreds of marines mulling around on the deck and outside of the hangar. Right then it hit him, that feeling of disaster and destruction; of death. Whenever he got it, something bad happened, so he would take all precautions to see to it that not only he was safe, but his men were too. He opened up the TEAMCOM to his squad, "Delta Squad, suit up and clean your weapons. I've got that feeling again." I've got that feeling again was all the Lieutenant had to say for his team to give him a "yes, sir!" and to get ready. He didn't like the smell of the planet anymore, he didn't like his surroundings, and he sure as hell didn't like war. But sometimes, that was all that could be in a time of hate.

1st Lieutenant Michael R. Hammer stepped out of the opening of the hangar, gripping his MA6B Pulse Action Assault Rifle in both hands, finger on the trigger with the safety on. His steps were carefully paced and even with his heart beat. The thoughts that ran through his head, neither coincided with his judgment, or caused conflict. In fact, the one thing he really knew at that one moment in time, was that he would have given four thousand Marines, for only 40 Spartans. Spartans were never a** holes like the Marines, always knew the game plan, and were ready for anything at any time. He had come to know a few Spartans in his time of reckoning, going from battle to battle on board different ships. Michael had been transfered at least four or five times before Theta Halo, where he finally found a place to stay. A lot of Marines were struck with a deep sense of hate when confronted with a Spartan, some were struck with awe, while the smaller majority were glad to have them with them at any time. One of his best friends had come to hate the Spartans; reason being they weren't "human". Can you say bull s**t? I can, and I can smell it from a mile away.

But what someone thinks is what someone thinks, and there's nothing you can do about it . . . usually, anyways. When you lose many men, and you leave behind your family, your sisters, and your beloved and betrothed, you learn to trust your instincts. Freud once said, "It is impossible to overlook the extent to which civilization is built upon a renunciation of instinct." Even now we trust our gut so that when things go bad, we're right there, ready and earnest to confront them. In true fact, every person has a sixth sense, just not as many people have a really strong one. Those few people who do though, are always prepared for the wrost, the best, and the unimaginable. The Lieutenant gazed up at the sky, the blue glory reflecting in the visor of his helmet. He had promised his beloved and betrothed he wouldn't smoke, and would keep drinking to a minimum. So far, he was doing good. Michael sighed and tensed up again, reciting two lines from his childhood.

"By the prickling of my thumbs; Something wicked this way comes."

Coop-maybe being a little too comfortable- took off his helmet and clipped it to his side. Coop dropped his hands into his pockets and watched the side lights go by one by one. He bobbed his head in tune with the lights proveing how he focused on the wierdest things that nobody else would care to think about. Coop entered into what seemed a more open area. The first thing he noticed was a Spartan or two. He never saw many spartans since they wern't needed so much on earth. This was definaly a different site for Coop. He really wanted to watch these soldiers in battle. These different people seemed very important, hopefully Coop would follow in their steps to become important also. He really wanted to fit in with all of these soldiers and people and he knew he would eventually.

He arrives on the ship as he stands in the cargo bay. "Wang! Get your sorry *** over here!" someone yelled. "Coming sir!" Aaron shouted back. He ran toward the man and stopped right in front of him. "You needed me sir?" he asked.

Aaron ran around which he knew wasn't a smart thing to do. He tried to find a commanding officer but couldn't. "Isn't there a commanding officer anywhere.?" he asked to himself out loud. He found a bench and just sat there with his helmet in hand. "Damn. This is gonna be hell of a long day." Aaron told himself.