janitorscloset | [meme] RvB & Halo AU Meme

“I suspect we’ll be safe from court-martial then.” Kurt said with a fleetingly wicked looking smile that had dimples briefly flashing. Honestly, a Spartan with dimples. Not that they’d had a lot of reason for laughter and smiling back during basic training. Mendez and their DI’s had kept them in a near constant state of exhaustion those first few years as their built up their bodies and endurance.

But just as Kurt had teased Matt about picking up some bad habits from the so-called rank and file, it had been twenty years since he’d been amongst the stifling confines of the Spartan-II program and he’d lost a lot of the rigidness they’d tried to instill in them. Kurt-051 had always been adaptable though and had never let the strenuous conditioning completely stamp out his innate friendly nature.

“Ah, that’s much easier to attain than a Pelican. I know exactly where we can get one.” He had one in his assigned quarters right now that they could use. It had the latest ONI encryption installed as well as a few backdoors he’d put in so that he could communicate with Mendez on less than official channels. Kurt had picked up a few useful tricks over the years thanks to his experiences dealing with the UNSC spook branch and now, it felt like he could put that information to good use for something positive.

Maine’s words really struck a cord with the other man and there was a wealth of emotion in the brunette’s hazel eyes when he reached out and grabbed the other man by the shoulder once again. It was as close as a Spartan was normally going to get to something as demonstrative as a hug. Usually, they just relied upon the hand signals and sign language they’d worked out as a class all those years ago in training.

“You’re the first brother I’ve seen in years, I’m not gonna let you drift back out of my life again, Matt. Even if it’s just us sending messages via a data pad, we’ll find a way of keeping in touch from here on out.”

Keep in touch? Not likely. Eventually his CO would find the connection and sever it. Just what he's got, what he's got to deal with. But that hand on his shoulder? Meant more than he'd allow to show normally. Normally, though, he had a helmet to hide the tiny little lift in the corner of his lips.

"You have dimples," Maine points out, shaking his head. "SPARTANs don't get to have dimples. Especially when he's got a job. Which means getting me a datapad. And maybe cards. I've got to wait until your work here is done and if you can be spared to distract me, then let's do that."

Drift back out? This is a war, Kurt. They won't drift apart. They will go hurtling apart, driven that way. But damn if this wasn't a fight he'd give himself to for a while.

Spartans were infamous for doing the impossible and now they had a mission; one that would land the both of them in a whole heap of trouble if the truth came out. But in more than twenty years of service to Ackerson, this was perhaps the first truly selfish thing Kurt had been tempted to do.

Yes, he’d sought to protect the truly gifted Spartans from each class and transferred them out from underneath his superiors’ noses rather than seeing their potential being wasted but even that had been driven by pragmatism. This though, he had no excuse for his selfish desire not to be separated from his brother yet again.

The observation drew a snort from the dark-haired man. “I guess I don’t really get to call myself a Spartan then these days.” There was an edge of truth in his self-deprecating humor and with one final squeeze to that beefy shoulder, Kurt let his hand drop as he pulled back.

“Why don’t you get us some cards and other things we might need as a distraction while I concentrate on getting us that datapad. We’ll meet back say here?”

This solitary location halfway between the occupied medical bays that Maine had escaped from and the empty part of the ship where the Spartan-III’s were being cordoned off in would give them some much needed privacy.

Well there was clearly an implication of 'this isn't a place you could go' to Maine. Matt. He hadn't thought of himself in terms of that name in years, but it was nice. The unspoken connection to other people that came with it meant more than he had expected. Here he'd thought he'd grown attached to his Freelancer companions, but apparently the SPARTAN bond ran deeper.

"Meet here," Matt agrees, pushing off of the bed he leaned against. "I'll hold up a nurse or something for it. And probably have medication I should take."

Maybe even a checkup. Not that he wanted to see them. Any moment with medical staff was a moment that wasn't being spent with Kurt. Which, of course, was not acceptable.

With the instruction provided he gives Kurt another salute, this one far looser, clearly casual and perhaps even a bit teasing at the difference in rank between them. His unspoken but clearly still voiced jibe between them, he slipped from the room. There were other things he intended to acquire as well. Namely food. He didn't think he'd find anything much better than ration bars but given the fact that he had to consume something and presumably he was good to eat slid food since no one had told him otherwise, he set out for his part of their little operation. Part of him also cried out to find his armor, he'd been too long in it to like being out of it, but like Kurt he had his own secrets to keep, and the armor would only raise questions.

Getting the cards, it turned out, was the easier part of his mission. He found some orderlies in a nursing station playing cards, and all he had to do was loom there in the doorway, looking pointedly at the cards before they offered to lend him the deck. Even heard some mumbling when he was leaving about how soldiers never respected them. Right now Maine couldn't care less. He gathered the cards and then slipped off again, gone more quietly than he was used to, and not minding it at all. It had been a while since anyone had expected him to be sneaky. Maybe he should practice it back on the MoI for personal amusement. As he thought of that he slipped back into his own hospital room. It didn't take long to decode the doctor's writing on the datapad hanging just inside his door. Upside, prognosis was good. Downside, apparently solid foods were a no go. Which would clearly mean more difficulty for procuring food. Or it would have if he wasn't lucky enough, moments after leaving his room, to walk by a meal cart, loaded with meals for patients. Finding one marked with his room number was simple. Lifting a second that looked likely for Kurt was just as easy. With food and cards in hand, and carefully balanced, he turned and headed back to where he had come from, happy to find Kurt and pass a few hours.

Kurt regretted the fact that he had to leave Matt behind even for this short jaunt but honestly, it was for the best. The last thing either of them wanted was some of the Hopeful’s medical staff to spot him in the Spartan wing…or worse yet, one of his people. Tom and Lucy were about and underfoot and he needed to find a way of convincing his two closest aides that he needed some time to himself.

Once upon a time, he’d saved them from an unspeakable hell. Lucy had been on the verge of being marked as unfit for duty and being shuffled off to some ONI scientific lab to no doubt be poked and prodded while Tom had almost gotten whisked out from underneath him by Ackerson who’d wanted a pet Spartan of his own. Kurt wasn’t the kind of man who threw his weight around but for Tom and Lucy, he had fought tooth and nail for them and to keep them safely at his side. He’d argued who better to train Spartans but other Spartans?

Thankfully, the higher ups had seen it his way and in doing so, he knew he’d bought their undying loyalty. So when he shot off a quick message to his attaché’s requesting that he not be disturbed except for the anything short of massive catastrophe or attack on the station, he knew the order would puzzle them, but they would follow it without question.

He returned to his quarters and fetched the datapad he’d been using the past few months and fetched it. Thanks to the communiqué he’d received from Deep Winter, he knew no one would bat an eyelash when he told them he’d destroyed the datapad rather than risk there being any chance of latent code from Onyx’s doomed smart AI on his datapad.

With his part of the mission accomplished, he made his way back through the tangle of hallways in a round-about way back to the room they’d chosen to make their own. This part of the station was under strict blackout conditions so he knew none of the cameras were monitoring him but some habits were automatic and on the off chance someone else spotted him roaming the halls, he didn’t want to lead them directly back to Maine.

It also gave him time to make sure he wiped all traces of incriminating information about Onyx from the datapad until he was relatively certain it had been pretty much wiped back to near factory defaults.

Once he reached the room, Kurt slipped inside brandishing the pad with a smile. “Got it.”

In the time it took Kurt to get back, Maine had already set the area up for himself. The trays of food had been placed on a cart in easy reach of the bed and he'd even had some of the soup they'd set on his tray. It was far from pleasant, but he understood obeying orders from doctors. Always made sense to him.

In addition to the food he had already shuffled up the 'borrowed' deck a few times as he settled himself onto the floor. Sure he could trust the bed enough to hold up his own weight, but he wasn't going to bet that the thing would be as amenable to two adult SPARTANs who had clearly kept themselves fighting fit.

"Got food. Sit and relax."

Hopefully the world won't look to end with them playing cards. They could have something, right?

Kurt raised an eyebrow when he found Matt sitting there on the linoleum floor instead of seated on the bed like a good patient. “I’m pretty sure your doctors would skin me alive if they saw you like this, Matt. I figured I’d pull up a chair and you take the bed so we can at least pretend like we’re acknowledging the fact that technically you are one of the walking wounded here who just suffered some pretty traumatic injuries.”

He said it with a healthy dose of good humor in his voice but there was unmistakably a note of authority there as well. Some things remained the same and Kurt had spent years leading Matt and Green team and that authority had only a more comfortable mantle to wear over the past two decades. The datapad was tossed onto the foot of the bed and he held out a hand to his brother in a silent offer to help him both to his feet off the potentially space germ riddled flooring.

“I should have thought to grab some pudding cups while I was out. Was it you or Linda who was mad for chocolate pudding, I can’t recall?” It felt like those memories were a million years ago back when excelling at training was the biggest care in their worlds. These days, they had much bigger concerns facing them every day. Or at least Kurt did and he imagined it was much the same for Matt no matter where he ended up landing. Which appeared to be in some kind of place where code names were being used. Not that a Spartan-II had claim to a real name since they’d all simply been known by their given names and a numbered tag for decades. It had taken him years to become comfortable with the idea of his assumed name.

"Me," Maine admits as he looks up at that hand. Really he would prefer to be on even footing but he supposed that had never been a thing between them anyway. So he takes the hand and lets himself be pulled up. Grits his teeth through the pain, he hadn't even known his shoulder was hurt.

"Have a friend who steals them for me now."

Wash was good for that. Maine gave over his jello cups in return. Couldn't trust the jiggly stuff.

On his feet he moves to the bed and starts to deal out the cards. "Find a chair, Sir."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Assuming there would be a next time? That was Kurt for you, the eternal optimist. Or maybe he was already scheming and trying to think up a way he could see Matt again once he was released from the Hopeful.

Not that it was easy considering he almost always either on Onyx under communications blackout or he was being shuffled from one ONI cruiser to the next for various secretive briefings that couldn't even be trusted to take place over the UNSC communication networks. It wasn't like he got the luxury of shore leave like regular UNSC personnel did.

"I'm glad to hear it. I thought with the throat injury they might have you on a liquid or semi-solid diet for a while." He accepted Maine's jello cup and the barely veiled look of disgust on the man's face with a repressed smile and moved to draw up a chair. "Hospital food, huh? Always a delightful treat."

The brunette murmured laconically as he poked at the contents of his purloined tray. It looked about as under-seasoned and bland as hospital food generally was the universe over. Apparently doctor's had an aversion to spice or taste in general because they were afraid their patients would upchuck their cookies at a moment's notice.

"As good as food back with my group," Maine shrugs. Unless Florida was cooking they had little hope. Director had to cut corners elsewhere. Apparently healthcare wasn't one. Except for with York's injury. Apparently a pet SPARTAN was more valuable.

He starts to play out cards quickly in front of them. Better than think about what was going on with cards than think about what would happen when he went back to the Project.

"Don't wanna think about going back, thanks."

“Wow, that’s just plain depressing to hear.” Kurt teased gently. Food had been used as a means of conditioning when they’d first started up in boot. Recruits that performed well were given extra treats like ice cream and sweets while those who did the worst in exercises or who messed up in other ways often found themselves going hungry. It was an effective method of control but not one Kurt had necessarily been eager to implement.

Mainly because he remembered Serin and the downright vicious protective way she’d been around food during those first few months in the program. They’d been forbidden to discuss their home lives and eventually, the memories of that life before the Spartan program had faded away for all of them. Kurt himself had very few clear memories of his life before the Spartan program. His parents’ names, their faces and even the name of his home had deteriorated from his mind.

For the Spartan-III’s though, they weren’t happy children plucked from hearth and home, they were war orphans who had already been traumatized and often half-starved by the time they’d gotten picked up for the program. More importantly, Kurt hadn’t wanted them to forget about their lost families and the broken homes they’d suffered. He wanted their anger and rage against the Covenant as a unifying factor to give them the determination and desire to make sure this never happened to another human planet to drive his Spartans. So in that way, his training methods had been wildly different from Halsey but it remained to be seen which were superior thanks to the way the Spartan-III’s lives were sacrificed so readily and wastefully. But Kurt liked to think they were just as determined and capable as his fellow II’s. Noble Team alone had proven that since their inception.

He gathered up the cards that had been dealt to him and studied them silently for a moment. Something in Maine's tone seemed to draw his attention though and those far too keen hazel eyes studied the other man over the top of his cards.

“That bad huh? Can you transfer to a different unit?” Kurt suspected Matt had somehow ended up in some secret program not so dissimilar from his and that it wasn’t an option to request transfer. Instead, he was quietly feeling Matt out to see if he’d be open to the idea of transfer. If he was then he’d see about trying to steal him away from whatever program he was in and bring him to Onyx. Even a failed Spartan was a more experienced trainer for future classes of III’s. Once Gamma finished their graduation exercises, they would be transferred off to new posts and the preparations would begin for the next class of Spartan-III’s. So it was the perfect opportunity to scout out new trainers.

Transfer out of PFL? Maine scoffs at the idea. In a lot of ways e had as much choice about that program as about SPARTAN. Not that he voices that thought. Instead he shakes his head briefly as he looks over his cards. Perhaps Kurt will have a better poker face than the Freelancers did. Though Florida was amazing at bluffing.

"Transfer won't happen without a body bag. And then I am pretty sure I default to being Halsey's property. Probably easier to transfer you in to my unit."

Which would never happen. Director didn't want cohesion. Maine served as a dividing line after what happened to York. And his comfortable spot on the leaderboard helped keep the tension between the Dakotas. No, he was bound here. No reason to think of anything else.

"Sorry, LT. SPARTANS seem pretty set in their units."

That certainly remained to be seen. Some Spartans were certainly better at the poker face than others, partly because they tended to spend a lot of time in armor and had never learned how the properly guard their expression. Kurt had always had an expressive face back in training but it was obvious he was no longer the wet behind the ears recruit Matt had known once upon a time.

"Technically, I think our asses are owned by ONI and that tends to trump just about anyone's prior claim." He murmured mildly. "And I doubt that's going to happen, they've invested a lot of time and effort in my current assignment, I can't see that happening anytime soon. But I could see if there are any openings in my unit if you're interested in a transfer for real."

Kurt wouldn't do the same thing Halsey had done to them all those years ago. He wouldn't try and abscond Matt away without getting the man's input before hand. And he deliberately kept his offer vague as far as who all would authorize such a transfer. Technically, he was the one who inspected and approved all finalized personnel transfers onto Onyx but Maine didn't need to know that just yet.

Better he assume he was just some middle man if only for reasonable deniability on his part.

"I can understand being loyal to your unit but if you're unhappy or not being utilized to your fullest then let me know and I'll see what I can do. I know we could make use of you in my unit. It might not be as exciting as what you're doing these days though, but no less fulfilling in my opinion."

Apparently he needs to be clearer.

"My desires don't figure into this, Kurt. At all. And no one can make full use of a SPARTAN but a SPARTAN team. No one else understands what we can do. Not really. And if they can't openly acknowledge what they have..."

And he didn't expect his ONI tied superiors would play Kurt's ONI bosses requisitioning him. Didn't mean he wouldn't want a chance to actually serve the war, not the Director's questionable ends.

Was he being used well? Maine wasn't allowed to run. Not really. He got to do a SPARTAN version of a jog because, well, people would wonder how Maine running without augments could let him keep up with Carolina over a short distance.

Focus on the cards, Maine reminded himself. He should be grateful to see Kurt, not bitter over not contributing to the war. The war he had been kidnapped for. Lost all memory of his family for. Perhaps stopped being all human for.

"Dealer takes two," he announces as he discards. If Kurt isn't going to play Maine will make him play.

Kurt didn’t miss the censure in Matt’s voice but he also could hear the frustration as well. It was obvious his brother was unhappy with his current assignment and he suspected it was because he was for all intents and purposes a Spartan stuck among the rabble.

Matt might not be able to don MJOLNIR but he was still in his heart one of the most highly trained soldiers humanity had ever created.

“Maybe so but I feel like we’ve both had enough being traded about like pieces on a chess board at the hands of others so I want your opinion on the matter before I go kicking over hornet’s nests on your behalf, Matt.” Kurt said; voice deadly serious now as were his eyes. Was this the true Kurt-051? He was no longer the teenage Spartan Maine had once known. But perhaps that was to be expected considering it had been more than twenty years and the better part of a war since they’d last seen each other.

“If you don’t want to go back to that unit, let me know and I’ll find you a spot on our ship when we leave tonight. We can come up with a believable cover story for your disappearance. It wouldn’t be the first time, I assure you.” This was said with a hint of self-deprecating humor. No, it wasn’t the first time they’d faked a Spartan’s death in order to abscond them into Kurt’s unit.

“I’ll take one card.” That certainly said a lot about his hand. He could have two pairs or was working his way towards a flush or a straight or even a full house.

"You are a fully capable SPARTAN that was one of the best of us and I am certain your death was believable. I am a washout whose CO likely is already aware survived, probably informed before your opsec overtook this place..."

But what if it hadn't. Director would have just scooped him back to MoI if he was out of surgery before Kurt descended. Maybe this is an out. Not like he would miss the program, or the program him.

"You would have to get Jeromi to fake her report."

Given how many people Maine had interacted with, it would take a lot of quashing. Every doctor nurse and orderlie. Was that possible?

"I don't have anything I would miss back at my posting other than a few people. But all your unit would get is me and this pair of fatigues that aren't exactly standard issue."

He can't mention the armor.

A troubled look briefly passed through Kurt’s eyes when he heard the way Matt summed up their different circumstances. He couldn’t even imagine how it must have felt for Matt to get through the augmentation procedures as far as he did only to wash out because his nervous system could not support the MJOLNIR’s neural interface. Only to get that far and then be washed out because of that, it had to be crushing.

“Be that as it may but having been absconded into an ONI black ops program not once but twice has given be a firm belief in the power of choice. I refuse to stoop to that level.” Which was why every single one of his Spartans were given the choice. They all wanted to be there and in his opinion, it made them more dedicated to the cause for that very reason.

“But yes, it would be hard to sell your sudden death after it appears you have been making such progress. Though, there are other ways of making people disappear. By all rights, breaking the security cordon could have easily led to you being shot or made to disappear for opsec reasons.”

Because that was what ONI did. They made their sticky problems disappear either into a black bag or into some other fate worse than death.

Of course, Kurt was coming dangerously close to breaking opsec himself for even telling Maine that much. The fact that they were protecting whatever it was they were doing on this station by order of death or a lifetime in prison…that level of clearance was one Matt might only have been around the time of the Spartan-II program.

The brunette was looking at him with a patient look on his face but his eyes were sharp and keen as though he could will Matt to make the connection about why they would need a Spartan on a medical station literally out in the middle of nowhere protecting a secret of that magnitude.

“It goes without saying that you would be forbidden from ever reaching out those people again. If you are officially marked MIA, you will have to stay that way.” That had been the worst part the assignment for him. Being cut off forever from his brothers and sisters Spartans. Even Mendez could not truly grasp what Kurt had been deprived of when they took him against his will and placed him in control of the new Spartan-III program.

“You don’t have to make up your mind just yet but the sooner you let me know, the sooner I can start the wheels spinning. Either way, if you choose to go back to your unit, I’ll still figure out a way to remain in touch with you. Because that proverbial cat is out of the bag already.”

Maine is quiet for a very, very long time. It doesn't take much to tell he man is deep in thought. Before this he had suspicions, but now? A confirmed ONI black op on a space station. A medical station. Kurt with rank and proven leadership abilities. Maine's eyes start to widen as the picture starts to form. The guards clearly meant for whatever Kurt is up to let him through because, when it came down to it, he looked the part didn't he? And really he can't imagine an ONI op that needed a SPARTAN overseer that could trump Freelancer and the pull the Director had except for SPARTAN itself.

Realization come to his mind races ahead and Maine's eyes narrowed.

"I won't be an object lesson for what happens with unsuccessful augmentation processes. The... modifications from my current posting have compensated for almost all of them. Still shaky as a gunner--" because he couldn't steal the armor that also served to stabilize his hands, "--but the hearing is a moot point now. I may be a washout but I don't need or want pity. I want to serve, Kurt. Like I was meant to. Insurrection, Covenant or something else, I am built to fight. Don't kill me off and take me from the few friends I have made just to let me gather dust. I won't be shanghai'd again for that end. I don't care what silver bullet ONI has. I am a damn soldier."

It is too much and as he talks his voice trails to a faint rasp. Clearly he is overtaxing himself and he doesn't care.

He could see that Maine was beginning to put the pieces together like he’d hoped. And honestly, Kurt hadn’t exactly been subtle in his implications either so it was nice to find his brother’s intellect hadn’t dulled over the past two decades.

Unfortunately, Matt drew the wrong conclusions about why he wanted him for the program. That cold accusation managed to strike home deep much to Kurt’s surprise and the poker face he’d done an admirable job of maintaining thus far faltered. The surprise and something that might have been akin to hurt betrayal briefly flickered across the man’s face.

It made him question if he’d truly changed so much that his own brother, his own teammate could think he would use him in such a way. Kurt knew he wasn’t the model Spartan anymore but this was more than he’d ever expected. His brows knit together in a troubled look and the cards were laid down on the tray between them so there could be no question of his attention being split.

“I never even considered that possibility, Matt. I would never use you as some object lesson or what a failed Spartan is. I want you because you are Spartan and your expertise is invaluable to what I’m doing. I’m one person and I have a good team at my fingertips but I’m not working with the genetic cream of the crop and don’t have Catherine Halsey’s luxury in being choosy.” He ended up saying more than he meant to but honestly, at this point? What was the point in pussy-footing around?

“But, if you feel you will be more valuable where you’re at and more importantly, if you feel like this is how you can contribute best to the war, I won’t press you further. Like I said, it is your choice, Matt. I made a promise to myself when I got roped into this gig that I would never try and strong-arm anyone serving if that’s not what they want and thus far, I’ve been lucky enough to keep that promise to myself.” Which was no easy feat when you considered it was ONI they were talking about.

It isn't on Kurt, and Maine shakes his head, raising a hand.

"The Director of the initiative I am in is... he would use me for that end. The op I am in isn't... necessarily the best arrangement. Team cohesion isn't a goal. It..."

Maine Shaka his head. No. Matt shakes his head. He sets his own cards aside and focuses instead on his terrible meal. Better be fed up to recover. But he smiles at his brother. Just being whatever his brother wants is enough for him.

"So, Sir, when do I ship out?"

Kurt stilled when Maine raised a hand in an obvious bid for silence and the chance to speak. So he went quiet and simply listened while the other Spartan spoke quietly of the program he'd found himself in.

It was disturbing to hear but wasn’t necessarily surprising. They had been groomed to become the greatest weapon humanity had ever created and to find themselves stuck serving with non-Spartans would ultimately feel like it was unfulfilling in the end because they could never be Spartan. Kurt had some of the best and most experienced drill instructors the UNSC could offer but he would trade them all for another Tom or Lucy. And having another Spartan-II? That would only increase the chances that his Spartans had a fighting chance to survive this war.

"They're not Spartans." Kurt said simply but there was empathy in the brunette's eyes as he regarded his brother.

"We'll ship out tonight. I will have one of my aides gather your personal effects." A smile was beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. It was genuine and bordered on boyish the likes of which he didn't think he'd used in years. Excitement bubbled in his veins even as he brain spun through all the possibilities before him. He knew there would be hell to pay for this but Kurt was willing to pay it because whatever the price, it would be worth it just to have Matt serving by his side again helping him give his Spartans the best chance they had at survival. "Glad to have you on board, Matt."

Matt doesn't bother to correct Kurt on one thing. It isn't that the program isn't SPARTAN. he can understand and accept that fact. But it also wasn't what it was supposed to be: a team. Humanity did need super soldiers in some form. Needed a way to end the war. The tech they were working with could easily help with that. But a team built up when a single man destroyed. And the clear addition of the obvious robot with Smart AI on board had bothered him.

Disturbed him in ways he couldn't begin to explain. That was why he had accepted the live ammo and the grenade. He had known AI. He knew the use and the personalities. But giving one a dangerous body, extra tech, and a clear failure to understand herself with rampancy still a serious problem? He passed.

"The only personal effects I have are classified military property. Technically so is what I am wearing right now..."

He pauses and considers for a moment, not sure about whether he should ask the next question.

"Two things: do I have to have a name as silly as Ambrose? And do they make the new ones as big as us?"

Kurt would be fascinated to hear about Freelancer but at a later time, once they were in a more private setting where they could talk truly freely. He didn't have nearly the same aversion to smart AI but then...they had been useful to his work even if the Spartan-III program only took up a small portion of the resident AI seemingly housed somewhere inside Zone 67.

Deep Winter in particular had been a very amenable AI and in his own way, he regretted the fleeting nature of a smart AI's seven year life cycle. It hadn't shown signs of rampancy but he knew that the madness that ultimately consumed a smart AI was always there like a ticking time-bomb in their code.

"Ah, well, then I guess you don't have to worry about packing. We'll get you properly kitted out when we get back to base."

Matt's unexpected question about his assumed surname surprised a laugh out of Kurt. "Ouch, I had no say in that name but it's grown on me over the years. It means immortal in ancient Greek, did you know that? A little on the nose perhaps but no, you don't have to be Matt Ambrose. I don't think anyone could look at us and think we were blood relation." Amusement twinkled in his eyes when he said that.

"As for the second, I guess you'll just have to wait and see. I think they'll impress you. Doctor Halsey would have judged them by their genes and labeled them inferior but they have more grit and drive than even we had when we were their age." The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

"Any current crop going through augmentation has zero reason to respect me," Maine counters, "unless I have rank, which I don't, or I can put them on their ass, which I may or may not be able to do."

Simple as that. He gets he is going to be in inclosed spaces with them and he will have to deal with curious looks and young people not ready to deal with their own bodies. He remembers how it was. How people could have been injured. What was said about What happened with John and some Marines.

As for grit and drive...

"My grit was extensive, I have to win so my team leader would quiet down."

"Respect must be earned, yes. But they will obey and serve all the same because they are Spartans.” They had both had the displeasure of serving under superior officers who were only entitled to contempt at best, he suspected. But they still performed their duties because that was what it was to be Spartan.

“However, I doubt it will take you long to earn their respect.” Kurt wanted to tell him about Mendez also being on Onyx but he didn’t want to reveal too many details until he knew there was no chance of things going sideways. He’d already broken opsec enough to turn this into a clusterfuck but he didn’t want to count his chickens before they hatched so to speak.

“Heh, what can I say? I’m competitive and the last thing I wanted was to see John and Blue Team end up with Top Honors.” They were all competitive, it had been bred into them part of the conditioning and indoctrination. Even now, that determination to win had far-reaching effects on all of the Spartan-II graduates.

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