Master Chief | John-117 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
one_one_se7en) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2012-07-09 12:41 am
one_one_se7en) wrote in onepassingnight2012-07-09 12:41 am
Second Journey :: The Role
"Contacts. Stand by."
The Master Chief knew there were probably more than a hundred of them -- Motion sensors were off the scale. He wanted to see them for himself, though; his years made that lesson clear: 'Machines break. Eyes don't'.
The Spartans that composed his team for the moment covered his sides, each of them with varying patience inside their MJOLNIR suits of armor. Someone had once commented that they looked like Greek war gods in the armor... But his Spartans were far more effective and ruthless than Homer's gods had ever been.
He snaked the fiber-optic probe up and over the three-meter-high stone ridge. When it was in place, the Master Chief linked it to his helmet's HUD. On the other side he saw a valley with eroded rock walls and a river meandering through it... And camped along the banks were hundreds of Grunts, Jackals, Brutes, and Elites, with a handful of pairs of Hunters around the camp.
The Master Chief detached the optics cable, and took a step back from the rock wall. He passed the tactical information along his companions over a secure COM channel. Like him, encased in battle armor easily weighting half a ton. All armed with energy shields protecting them from the plasma, enough speed not to be even noticed in the seconds they all ran exposed on the field, and enough strength to toss even the biggest Hunter among them.
"Are the mines set?"
This is what being a Spartan is like. When two of them against a almost a thousand of them are poor odds for their enemies.
The Master Chief knew there were probably more than a hundred of them -- Motion sensors were off the scale. He wanted to see them for himself, though; his years made that lesson clear: 'Machines break. Eyes don't'.
The Spartans that composed his team for the moment covered his sides, each of them with varying patience inside their MJOLNIR suits of armor. Someone had once commented that they looked like Greek war gods in the armor... But his Spartans were far more effective and ruthless than Homer's gods had ever been.
He snaked the fiber-optic probe up and over the three-meter-high stone ridge. When it was in place, the Master Chief linked it to his helmet's HUD. On the other side he saw a valley with eroded rock walls and a river meandering through it... And camped along the banks were hundreds of Grunts, Jackals, Brutes, and Elites, with a handful of pairs of Hunters around the camp.
The Master Chief detached the optics cable, and took a step back from the rock wall. He passed the tactical information along his companions over a secure COM channel. Like him, encased in battle armor easily weighting half a ton. All armed with energy shields protecting them from the plasma, enough speed not to be even noticed in the seconds they all ran exposed on the field, and enough strength to toss even the biggest Hunter among them.
"Are the mines set?"
This is what being a Spartan is like. When two of them against a almost a thousand of them are poor odds for their enemies.
no subject
Then she nods, and lets the armored man lead her (another memory, but an older one, the very first time). "Thank you," she tells him politely. As on the battlefield, she does not seem in a rush or hurry, or to be overly concerned with whatever small wounds she might have.
"Are the medical facilities nearby?"
no subject
As he calmly walks away from the battlefield, his left armored thigh ejects an antiseptic bottle and bandages. Her wounds did not seem serious -- but then again, it is a constant they learned -- sometimes one doesn't know he is wounded until the medics check him.
"You deserve it."
no subject
Deserve it? In her experience, fate is harsh and people rarely receive what they may deserve.
"So do any soldiers," says the girl who knows her sacrifices will remain unknown, and her battles forgotten.