//------------------------------// // Prologue: Erased // Story: Definition of Expendability // by Grape Crush //------------------------------// Erased "Expendable." "Come again?" "You had asked what word I would describe this new breed of Spartans. I complied." "But ma'am..." "They are nothing more than what I had said. Simply put, losing them, while not ideal it's not the end of the world. If one dies, another may take their place and continue the fight." "You didn't create more Spartans, you created an endless supply of soldiers without proper training and armor to back them up. I would hardly call them Spartans." A hint of worry was rooted in the second voice. Worry that was quickly dismissed with a flick of the other's hand. "I created what you asked for, Spartans that could be ready for any mission, as quickly as possible, and as cheap as possible." "But you didn't create soldiers! You created an assembly line of people!" The first voice now getting mildly annoyed with the questions the other was asking, was quick to respond. "The Spartan-II's were highly intelligent and unbreakable because they were trained since a young age. You do realize you are asking me to erase age and just throw fully trained Spartans at you whenever you so wish, right? That's not how this works, ONI simply doesn't have the funding, nor resources to craft an endless supply of highly trained death machines that are nowhere close to the originals." The voice didn't falter once, even after referring to the Spartans, not as people, but as nothing more than machines. Maybe the voice was right, maybe they were no more than machines. Built since birth to do nothing but destroy anything that stood in the way of humanity's goals. Morals set aside. No questions, just completion. This was their indoctrination, and if it were up to the staggering amounts of success by teams such as blue team, they were trained well. "You're right..." the second voice responded, tinged with regret, "I just feel as though there is some way that we can make them believe that they aren't just something we can chalk up on a board as "acceptable deaths"." "They wouldn't die in vain, yes many would fall, but the missions that they would complete! Nobody else can! They can turn the tide of this war for the better, for all of us." The first voice said, sternly, without remorse. This took the second as a bit of a surprise. "Can you bear it?" The second voice quietly murmured. "Bear what?" "The guilt." See, this wasn't a question that was expected from the second voice. They hadn't seemed like the deep type of person. The first thought a long while, gauging her own thoughts and reflections on what had happened with the Spartan-IIs. Ripping them from their family's, waking them up just to train them into the ground, putting them through the horrifying augmentation process which had crippled more than half the program. The thoughts had plagued her mind, making the answer come out a little shakier than she might have intended. "I accept what my actions might cause for any party involved, just as I had before. Guilt? Well that seems like my own little personal problem." She finished with what could be heard as a forced smile towards the end of the sentence. "Expendable?" The second asked once more. "Expendable." The Spartan-IIIs were born. Completing suicide missions that no other Spartan squad, or even a platoon of ODST's could handle. They were battle-hardened, maybe not as much as the Spartan-IIs, but damn near close. If given the same advancements as the Spartan-IIs, some might argue there were IIIs who even match the IIs. But they were nothing more than expendable. Purple. Often in ancient times was thought of as a royal color. That only Kings and Queens of old might wear. However, those were the ancient times after all. Laying on metal colored in many shades of purple, in a starship that was also purple, surrounded by many things that were out to kill you wearing purple. Well it kinda makes me rethink purple associated with royalty. My objective was to gain intel on the Covenants plans, new technology, hell anything that would help ONI understand why they were so damned interested in Forerunner artifacts. It was almost an unhealthy addiction. They practically worshipped anything made by the ancients, deeming themselves as who should be the one's who control all of it. As funny as the comparison may seem, Forerunner tech is often very dangerous, and very unpredictable. The more tech they gain ahold of, the further we are behind in the long game of chess we are partaking in. I wasn't here to discuss history lessons or semantics with myself. I lay in the spacious hanger that occupied the super carrier I currently found myself in. Fortunately for myself, grunts occupied most of the life alongside me, and, well, they weren't exactly the most aware species in the Covenant line up. I lay in the dark recesses of the corners, watching, waiting, anything that would get me any closer to someplace I could actually learn something from my trip. Two grunts came near my place of solace, making my muscle's stiffen in my armor. That is the second time I have been passed by in the last 15 minutes. Although their intention may not be expecting any unwanted visitors, it sure was starting to get unsettling. It interrupted my thoughts of anything that might help me move on so I don't put myself at even more risk than I already am. Not that risk's are a bad thing, mind you. Feeling my knee buckle from balancing, I almost collapsed onto the ground in a heap, my thoughts rudely interrupted once again. Instinct took over, catching myself with my fingers in such a way that they would slide and successfully not get my cover blown by a hunk of metal smashing into another hunk of metal. Sweat now dripping from my forehead, I inched my way up, putting a mental note to stop balancing on one foot while trying to be sneaky. There was a loud bang, as in a gun being fired directly beside my ear kind of bang, while the floor shook. A Covenant officer, more than likely an elite, came over the intercom, screaming in his native tongue that I had no intention of translating. Obviously there was a problem, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. However, this created an unique opening. If I could keep to the shadows, any mistake, or loud clanging metal would be hidden along with my person. Creeping along a purple wall, where the lights began to dim, I made my way towards what I hoped was the bridge. The bridge I would find any information I might require so that I may be on my way. If only it was as easy as I am thinking. Creeping along the tight hallways of the carrier, not sure of what I might face when any given door opens, is not a risk I wanted to take. It's not even a risk at that point, it's pure death. Images of energy swords being swung into my abdomen and being held up in the air like a trophy wasn't a pleasant thought. Nonetheless, my unquenchable thirst to be done with the mission got the best of me, I continued, my light footed technique that had been drilled into me, which turned out to be unrequired from the loud sound of what now seemed like metal scraping against metal, got me to a location near an opening door. I looked back at the chaos of the hanger, grunts and elites alike, now more accustomed to the loud noises, had been moving quickly about, not caring or knowing, that a spy was amongst their ranks, waiting for her time to inch her way into the light so she could continue. After watching the door for a good five minutes, deciding that now was the time to make my move before the screeching stopped, I carefully made my way into the sliding door, keeping a keen eye at my 12 o'clock. The hallway was empty, quiet even, the sound must be blocked off in the small hallway that had plenty of wall to keep sound out. The door clicking behind me was startling, almost catching the barrel of my sniper rifle on my back. Which brings me to a question, that I should have at least drifted upon, why do I have a sniper? Close quarters wasn't the idealistic scenario to be popping heads, not with that gun at least, but ONI just insisted that I take it. I knew I was a good shot, if what you could read between the black ink was any reminder, but sometimes my load out choices that they picked for me were... Troubling to say the least. Shrugging, intent on confirming everything I had on my person was still in check from my little trek was still there. I saw it before I heard it. The door on the opposite end of the hallway began to lift, in no slow manner either, sounds of grunts talking loudly to each other hit my eardrums just like the bang had before. Frozen I was looking for options to get myself out of the situation. Spotting a crevice-like indentation in the right wall, I hurriedly flung myself into it, the rifle on my back catching itself on the two walls and landing on the ground with a loud bang. My body went cold, I myself not being seen but that noise was clearly heard. The talking on the other end stopped entirely, hearing slow methodical footsteps creep closer to my position. This was it, I was going to die and it was all because of that damned rifle. Maybe I didn't drop it off when I realized I had it back on the Pelican because of how safe it made me feel. Keeping my distance. But it sure wasn't making me feel safe now. Closer now, whispers could be heard but I strained to hear what they could possibly be saying. Probably somewhere along the lines of "Human gun? Grunt rip out human heart!" Or... Something to that effect. The first of what I assumed many rounded my hiding spot, which I promptly propelled myself forward onto, thoughts leaving replaced by training that I had been given my entire life. My combat knife unsheathed, tearing into the grunt's facemask and face at the same time, blue blood splattering all over the knife and myself. Cocking my head to the right, before finishing my current kill, I looked at the other four grunts. Mixed horror and surprise painted all over their faces. It was a face I was beginning to love. In their bewilderment, I launched myself to the next one, this time only one hand on the knife and the other balled into a fist. Both struck their targets, only one actually dying. At this point, the three remaining grunts, one while stunned, the others collected themselves and fired their plasma in my general direction. I raised my knife along with the grunt body attached, to shield myself. The body melting beneath the fire and creating the worst stench I had ever subjected myself to. Lowering the body, I charged at the stunned one I had smashed in the face prior, driving the knife through the melted body of one, and into the face of the other. The remaining two grunts, trying to cool down their pistols had finally done so, releasing another barrage of fire at me. I couldn't swing around fast enough, I took two shots to the side before I had righted the now two bodies in front of me. My MJOLNIR armor's shields flaring in protest. Two shots and half was gone, those thing packed a punch! To be entirely fair, it was superheated plasma, I'm surprised neither shot penetrated past my shield and into my hip. That would be one hell of a finish to my current mission. The barrage had finally ended, the two remaining adversaries had succeeded in melting another of their brethren and were now waiting for their guns to come back to working order. I wasn't going to allow it to be an option. Shaking the two now melted together bodies off my combat knife, I closed the distance in one stride to two very surprised grunts. Missing one's head, I cut it's air supply instead, which was equally as effective as the momentum carried the knife into the side of the other grunt's head. One swing, two kills. I am getting pretty damn good at this CQC. Looking around, shaking my head at the mess I made, I wasn't sure what to do next. Stealth was only half working, at least I hadn't unloading a clip of my magnum ammo into their heads, that would make dying a much bigger problem. However, I wasn't going to be able to scrub the blue blood off the floor either. Which was now starting to make large blue pools. Great. Silently hoping to myself nobody would notice, I stuffed the 5 bodies into the cubby I was hiding in when they found me. The smell now making me gag, was permeating the room quickly. I quickly grabbed the long rifle off the floor and attached it onto my back once again, cursing it in my head for being such a giant nuisance. Continuing, at this point, before more showed up was my only option. Obviously they would be found, if they had any sort of smell, so I needed to get my ass out before that happened. Stopping before the door would auto open in front of me, I held my breathe on what might be on the other side. Hoping I didn't come face to face with the doom that had four jaws, I crept forward. The following room was confusing. Empty, thank Christ, but confusing nonetheless. On my right was an inclined path to an upper platform, and to my left was another inclined path going down. In front was a space in between that had consoles for what I now made out as the large cannons docked on the side of the ship. The Covenant sure didn't mess around, this ship itself could be capable of destroying an entire planet by itself, which I'm sure it probably has. Seeing the guns only made me slightly on edge, even if I was on the inside looking out. Keeping a keen eye on my motion tracker, I went to my right, something about checking the upper floor seemed right in my head. Making it up the small incline with no problem, I glanced to my left to see another platform, much like the first. My right only had another door, leading to a similarly long hallway that I had just come out of. Deciding that would just lead me back to my starting point, I made my way across the platform. Still not a single enemy, which was starting to be more of a worry than a relief at this point. For such a large ship, I had expected every room to be filled to the brim with Covenant, it was slowly turning out not to be the case. For better or worse. I reached the next door, which slid open seamlessly. I wasn't foolish to stand in front, moving my hand to make it open once I was out of frame. I peered around, with my combat knife at the ready for anything ready to rip my entrails onto the floor. Sighing, I let my guard down only slightly at the sight of nothing. Just another purple hallway. Thoughts went back to the loud noises I had experienced before and the ever shaking of the floor, which were completely gone now. Maybe that's why there is no Covenant! They all probably gathered somewhere important like the- -bridge. The door slid open in front of me, and I jumped out of the way as quietly as possible at the sight of hundreds of Covenant all gathered on the bridge. None of them paid me any attention, as loud yelling in a foreign tongue reached my ears. These hallways were extremely sound proof, I heard nothing on the opposite side. Thanking whatever god may be out there for my quick strike of luck, I peeked around the doorway. Indeed, not a single Covenant had been actually paying attention to me, they all seemed all too fixated on what was going on outside the ship perhaps? Most of the elites up front were looking at consoles and chattering among one another, others just stared slack jawed, quite literally, out the window. I couldn't get a good look at the window since two large pillars blocked my view, so I would have to get a closer look. I was curious about many things, but this made my stomach twist in all the wrong ways. I slid through the passageway, thanking what little shadow there was on the other side of the door to keep me hidden. Nothing was truly paying attention to me however, even when I scuffed my armor off the floor, making a small screeching metallic sound. I cursed myself for being clumsy while in the face of more than 100 elites. One could put up a good fight, I don't even want to imagine 100. Finally, I rounded the corner without being spotted by anything, peering at the window curiously. I quickly pulled my head back, a golden clad elite was staring in my general direction, talking to I assume another one facing away from me. The sweat forming on my forehead was beginning to show once more, straining myself to be completely still, even if slight sounds wouldn't even travel in the commotion. I tried my luck once more, looking for any of them that might have spotted me. Once I was sure of myself, I looked out the window for the first time, and almost jumped in surprise. We were heading straight for... A planet? I think? It was shining brightly from the nearby sun in the system, almost with a metallic like sheen to it. A beautiful sight really, if you know, it wasn't coming at me quicker than a bullet. I basically was putting my life in the hands of more than 100 aliens who would rip me to pieces if they knew I was here. God help me. Frantically I tried deducing that elite's wouldn't be that stupid to just go barreling into a planet, right? Or perhaps they are just testing the brakes? What? No. Starships don't have brakes, but they do have a reverse thrust. Which would be lovely if they used right now. Thoughts all jumbled in my head, I hadn't realized that there was no longer the loud chattering of the Elites and the occasional yelling of the one in golden armor. That wasn't good, however they weren't gathered around me in a semi-circle ready to gut me either. I waited for some shifting of one of them to come, when it never did I cautiously tried my luck to peer out again. All present were at rapt attention to what was going on in space, and suddenly I was too. The Metallic planet I had once seen before, was now completely replaced by greens, blues, and whites. It was surreal to look at, as if I was staring at something out of a storybook. All of what I've seen in my adult life has been nothing but crimson glass and smoke billowing out from the surface. Because of the 100s whom I now was standing in a room with, at rapt attention at what was going on. The thought brought anger, but it quickly subsided, I was not particularly an irrational thinker, and thinking irrationally right now would be a mistake. Unless dying isn't a mistake of course, then it would be the best of my options. Dying aside, we seemed to slow down, surprisingly enough we weren't about to kamikaze into a world made of metal, which was on the good side. Bad side is I have zero idea where I am in retrospect to any near planetary body. The ship I realized, was starting to set down onto the surface, and that, was not something I wanted to be stuck in a room with Elites who are more than likely going down to it. I quickly but stealthily made my way out the door, ensuring I waited till chatter amongst themselves had started again. Hurrying down the hallway, keeping a close eye out for adversaries, the door at the end of the hall opened as I approached. I checked my corners, below me, even above me, not sure why but one can never be sure. No enemies anywhere, which is exactly what I need. I need to be quick to be one of the first ones off so that I can find out what they are here for. Again, I have a problem stating things that are much easier said than done. I made my way down the incline leading to the middle floor, which I turned left after lingering on the dormant guns for a moment. Getting that sinking feeling once again that this ship had, or had helped in the glassing of a planet or more. Shaking my head at such trivial notions that couldn't be helped, I checked the long hallway, again, void of anything in particular. Even the familiar blood stains are there, as blue and as putrid as ever. I stopped and broke a slight grin at the 5 grunts stuffed in the cubby on my left, they had all sunk down and were almost compressing together in a weirdly shaped tower. My eyes leapt forward for a moment, the door opening on it's own, assuming it was the enemy and not myself getting too close, I began unsheathing my combat knife. Creeping forward, I half hid myself beside the side of the frame to wait for the attackers to come, which they never did. Dropping the knife once more, I breathed a sigh of relief, not completely relaxing lest I let my guard down for too long, but just happy I had made it back in one piece. I crept back into the large, spacious hanger, a little irritated my cover had gone away from the natural light on the planet's surface. None of the crew had seemed to dispurse and were working as hard as when I left them, the commotion helping keep my cover intact. Even if I was wearing full black armor, save a few white stripes, against a purple wall. Not exactly the most inconspicuous thing, but it was working thus far. I felt myself become heavier for a mere second as the ship stopped, causing the collective group of Covenant to groan. Breaking a slight grin in the annoyance obvious in their noises, I found my last spot, which had some crates added for decoration. Good thing I moved, otherwise I would've been a trophy for the behemoth wearing that gold armor. The whir of Phantom boosters came to life, as three of them in the hanger started to lift and fly out onto the planet, other's being packed to the brim with what I assume now as supplies. Which meant the crates that were by me were probably supplies too.. Shit. Two, albeit, unarmed grunts walked towards my hiding place. However, unarmed as they were, doesn't mean they couldn't make noise. I quickly tried to think of what to do, drawing up blanks, until realizing that the crates were just about my size. I could possibly fit into one, if it's devoid of anything. I began moving quickly, the grunts were still a little away, the hanger was quite large, and they weren't paying attention to where they were going. First one, methane. Second one, guns. Third one, more guns. Fourth one, swords. Why would they just store all of this weaponry like this when most of them are already armed? Did they expect to fight a war down there? It wasn't a pleasant thought as to what they know and I don't. I fished out a sword hilt and latched it onto my hip, opposite to my pistol. Just in case. It felt hotter in my armor than it usually did, probably happens when you're 20 seconds from being killed. Opening up the final crate, a grin grew on my face, it had a singular sword hilt, so I laid on top of it, and sealed myself inside, praying whoever might come pick me up didn't notice the weight shift. The noise of nearby crates being moved soon followed, with grunts grunting probably about the weight. At least if they carry all the other ones, I'll just be another heavy box. Finally after what felt like hours, I felt my own crate being lifted and then carried a few feet before being dropped. Now that isn't good. I calmed myself, waiting for when I would have to shove my newly acquired sword into some unsuspecting Grunt or Elite who found me. The moment, never came. Breathing a sigh of relief as I was lifted once again, by what I assume is more help... I guess I am pretty heavy. MJOLNIR armor wasn't famous for being light after all. The feeling of being set down was a little nauseating after being carried for a while, nonetheless I waited diligently for an assailant to open the box and be surprised to find a full clad Spartan shoving a sword into their throat. The moment again, almost disappointedly, never came. I had never flown in a Phantom before, albeit inside a crate. It wasn't unpleasant, it actually felt smoother than the Pelicans back at ONI. The ground must've been much higher up than I had remembered, the flight was a good ten minutes before reaching the surface. Once again, the feeling of being heavy came and went and chatter got much louder as the hissing of Phantom doors opened to the planet's surface I assume. Or my untimely death in the middle of space. Whichever happens sooner. The crates were sent down through the technology the Covenant have. Most Phantoms could teleport troops or items down in an instant. I didn't even fully understand the technology and I knew most classified material like the back of my hand. It was like riding an elevator, feeling weightless, then suddenly being thrown onto the ground with all your weight pressing on top of you. That would be so disorienting to do every single time, I suppose that's why they'd rather jump 20 feet instead. My thoughts jarred, I heard movement around my crate, and then being blinded by bright sunlight. It was a harsh thing for my eyes to adjust to at first, shielding myself with a forearm. A shriek and screaming soon followed, and I knew it was over before it even started. "Demon!" The all too familiar word for Spartans via the Covenant, was now being spread around in a loud fashion by an obnoxious Grunt. Suddenly an Elite head popped over the crate's entrance, glaring down at me. "Well, shit." I unlatched the sword from my hip in a flash. The rest, being a blur.