[i]For the record, this is a fanfiction story that [/i]I [i]wrote, it has no official connection to Bungie, it is merely my story.[/i] [b]PROLOGUE 0800 Hours, December 17, 2514(Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, planet Reach UNSC Priority Transmission 076452B-74 Encryption Code: Red Public Key: file/access Delta From: ONI Section Three To: Dr. Catherine Halsey M.D., Ph.D., Civilian Consultant (CIN: 10141-026-SRB4695) Subject: SPARTAN/Approval Classification: Restricted[/b] [i]/Start File/ Dr. Halsey, Project SPARTAN green lighted. SPARTAN I Augmentation To take place 10 years after this transmission. Any Recruit you Request Will Be Yours.[/i] [b]CHAPTER ONE 1700 Hours December 17, 2524 (Military Calendar) Epsilon Eridani System, ONI Medical Facility, in Orbit around Planet Reach[/b] The Cryopod doors opened, and Dr. Halsey walked into the room. The pods were lined up along the wall and various tubes connected to them. The Doctor’s heels clicked loudly on the tile floor as she walked towards the pods. The man in the pod on the left stumbled out and fell on his hands and knees. His physique was perfect, “good” she said to her self as she turned to face him. “Congratulations Lieutenant,” she said, “ You’re the only survivor.” The man started to choke and his hands slipped. He fell on his face and slipped into unconsciousness. [b]0800 Hours December 27,2524 (Military Calendar) Epsilon Eridani System, Hawthorne Medical Facility, Planet Reach[/b] First Lieutenant Matthew Simmons awoke on a hospital bed. His vision was blurred, but he could see that he was hooked up to several machines and I.V.s. outside the room’s window was DR. Halsey conversing with a Doctor, Simmons marveled at her intelligence, she was the reason he agreed to be in this program at all. The woman was brilliant, and there was something unexplainable that attracted Simmons to her. His thoughts were interrupted by Halsey’s entrance. “ How are you Lieutenant?” She asked. “Fine,” he replied, they both new this was a lie, Simmons was in immense pain, his bones ached, all his muscles seemed torn, and he could barely move. “ Of course you are,” she said mockingly, “ You have been given command of an ODST Platoon on Richter VII, I think you will enjoy it.” Simmons knew that would be trouble, ODSTs were the finest units the Marines had, and they didn’t take to kindly to fresh meat, either. But what had Halsey said, if he survived the Augmentation, which he did, he would be physically altered to have physical prowess to the likes of which he could not imagine. Being hardly able to move, though, was something he could imagine. “ You will make a full recovery within the week, then you will be transferred to Richter VII aboard the Destroyer Cherokee” Halsey told him. “ A week!” Simmons shouted, Halsey was not startled at all, “ I’m not waiting a week,” he told her, as he pulled the I.V.s from his arms, unconnected the machines, and stood up. “ I would really advise more rest,” Halsey told him. “ And I would really advise you stow it ma’am, I’m leaving.” “ Doctor’s orders,” she said Defiantly “ You’re a civilian, I am a Marine,” he told her as he strode out of the room “ You may be a marine,” Dr. Halsey said softly “ but more importantly you’re a Spartan.” [b]Chapter Two 0800 Hours January 3, 2525 (Military Calendar) Aboard UNSC Destroyer Cherokee en route to Richter VII[/b] Simmons had made a “full recovery” all right, could run over 50 KPH, and he had always been a slow runner before. He could also lift around eight hundred pounds. Everything seemed slow to him, too, like he was watching the world at half-speed. He marveled at his muscle mass and reflexes. He went to the gym aboard the Cherokee every day, went down to the section that was rotating at two Gs and would work out for hours. He also studied tactics and reviewed ancient battles; he would be ready to lead his platoon for sure. The only thing that bothered him about his new life was the fact that he was alone; he was the only survivor. His wished some of the others had survived. His best friend from the academy had been in the pod next to him, Dr. Halsey said the Augmentation went too fast, and his brain over loaded from all the change. She also said she was happy with the results. How? Nineteen men died, one survived, how were those good results? The Doctor must have had her reasons, she always did, but Simmons did not know what her reasons for this could have been, how had she helped humanity at all? Simmons pondered this for days, he refused to go into Cryo, and was therefore left with ten days to do nothing but think, work out and dread the day they would arrive at Richter VII. On the Day they were scheduled to arrive on Richter VII Simmons went to visit Major Sullivan, he was the executive officer of the Battalion of ODSTs stationed on the Cherokee. Sullivan had been a teacher at the Marine Academy At Quantico on Earth, and Taught Simmons for two years. Simmons wanted to ask him for advice on how to lead the hostile men in his charge; he wanted advice you couldn’t get in a book. As he took the elevator to the Major’s quarters he contemplated why the man had given up his teaching post for field duty, was he itching for combat, or sick of fresh officers asking him for advice on Marine life? He hoped it was the first one as he knocked on the Major’s door. “ Enter,” said a grizzly voice, Simmons remembered it as the Major’s. He opened the door and walked in. Sullivan had put in wood paneling and pictures of HEV pods dropping were hanging on the wall. It smelled of smoke, which was of course against regulations, but if anyone dared tell that to the Major, they would regret it during their Hospital stay. The Major’s voice wasn’t the only thing grizzly about him, he was 6’5, all muscle and looked as though he weighed three hundred pounds, At first Simmons felt threatened, then he remembered that he could lift Sullivan over his head and throw him through the door, and he straightened up. Sullivan was looking over a data pad, then looked up at Simmons, he had a scar streaking down his left cheek that was not there when he left Quantico, his once slick black hair now contained streaks of gray. He had aged a lot since he had been transferred to the Cherokee and made a dozen drops into rebel territory. “ Can I help you, Lieutenant?” He said, glancing over his data pad once more “ I hope so, Sir, I was hoping for advice on leadership now that I am going to lead a platoon of my own, Sir.” Sullivan dropped his data pad and got up from his desk, and walked around Simmons, surveying him, he stopped in front of him; he apparently liked what he saw. “ I’ve heard things about you Simmons, men say you can lift 800 pounds, that’s not human, what do you have to say about that?” “ Nothing, Sir,” Simmons knew that project SPARTAN was classified. “ So you admit it then?” the Major said inquisitively. “ I have changed since the academy, Sir” Simmons said hoping the Major would change subjects, he did. “ So you want advice, eh? Well I’ll tell you one thing Simmons, show them who boss, remind them it’s you, not their Sergeant, you, can you do that?” the Major asked him. “ Yes, Sir I can.” Simmons told him. “ Good, then you’re dismissed, Lieutenant” Simmons saluted Sullivan and exited the room. Show them who’s boss? This was the Marine Corps; his men should already know who’s boss. But Simmons made a note of the advice anyway, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. Simmons packed his things into a duffel bag, and then slipped into his uniform. He placed his Standard Issue M6C Magnum in its holster, picked up his bag and walked to the hangar. The Cherokee would get in orbit around Richter VII and Simmons’ Pelican Drop ship would go down to the surface on its own. With the planet in such chaos with the recent rebel insurgency, Simmons thought this was a bad idea, one drop ship would be an easy target for rebel anti aircraft. [Edited on 07.09.2007 3:38 PM PDT]