By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.
HALO
CONSCRIPTION
"You have been called upon to serve, you will be trained...and you will become the best we can make of you. You will be the Protectors of Earth and all her Colonies." ~ Catherine Halsey
The Office of Naval Intelligence officials were all gathered in the CASTLE Base of Reach, situated inside the Menachite Mountains and 2,000 feet below the Highland Mountains.
CASTLE Base was defended by ridiculous amounts of granite, reinforced concrete, plates of Titanium-A material and EMP hardened metal. These defences made the base itself almost completely bombproof and impenetrable, capable of withstanding the force of an 80 megaton blast.
"Gentlemen... And lady, we have important matters to discuss," came the low grumble of a short and fat elderly man, leaning on a thick pine walking stick and bore a bushy walrus moustache which watched the silvery colour of his hair. His face was blood red, so much to the point he was often referred to as a tomato. His voice was a thick old-fashioned British one, most likely from around the early 20th century.
"Now then," the man started up. "The Spartan II program has been a phenomenal success, but we have encountered some... Difficulty in acquiring new candidates."
There was a murmur of voices that signified an agreement; humanity had been fighting the alien conglomeration named the Covenant for several years now. The war seemed to be an ongoing stalemate between the two factions.
"We need something practical for a solution," the man continued, holding up his stubby index finger. "Any ideas?"
The ONI personnel looked at each other, blank expressions on their faces. A woman with jet black hair stood in the corner of the Assembly Hall, a floating A.I next to her with a pair of earphones connected to the woman. A paper cup, probably holding coffee due to the smell, sat in one of her hands.
"Doctor Halsey, do you have any contributions?"
Halsey shook her head, she felt bad enough having created the Spartan II program. Forcing children to leave their homes and abandon their families in order to join the UNSC military.
"No, Jeffery. I don't know why you even invited me to this meeting," she sighed. He sipped the coffee and recoiled at the taste, it had gone stone cold and she threw it in the bin.
Jeffery huffed and pouted his large belly, turning round to face the other ONI officials.
"What about conscription?" A man piped up. Everyone looked at him with a sharp expression on their faces, a clear indication for him to explain.
"Well... Erm, we're locked in this stalemate with the Covenant, right? So we've got to get more of these 'revolutionary soldiers' so they're being called, you've seen what happened at Harvest... Surely the Covenant won't stop there; many more of our colonies will fall and we don't even know the full extent of their power. Also, I believe this will increase civilian and military morale, we need children ones like we've selected before."
Jeffery tilted his head, examining the thought of an army of 'super soldiers' wreaking untold havoc on the Covenant. Standing proud with a UNSC flag atop a hill overlooking the battlefield.
"Does anyone have anything to say against that? Please bear in mind that we don't have time for a discussion on ethics or moral decisions, this is war and I need to come down to a final decision..." Jeffery grunted. He waited a moment, looking around the room. "Comments, anyone?"
"Obviously this is going to take a hell of a lot of planning; we'll need undercover agents to make sure these kids are delivered safely and swiftly to our designated rendezvous points. We'll need DNA samples to cover the flash-clones and this plan needs to be kept strictly under the radar. Any public media that poses a risk to exposing this must be shut down."
"Very well then, we'll put your plan into action immediately, John. See me tomorrow and we'll have a talk about suitable candidates. The rest of you, dismissed."
Everyone filed out the room, shuffling through the narrow corridors in a rush to get back home. John Strauss remained in his seat, pondering what he'd said. And pondering the consequences that face him.
*
The next day...
*
The sun had risen over the placid world of Reach; people would go out to do their jobs as normal. Children would be attending school, as normal. But John Strauss would be attending a very abnormal day...
After kissing his wife on the cheek and dropping his daughters off to school in his panther black Mercedes, a car brand that had been going for centuries, he made his way over to the ONI Parliament Centre. AKA, work.
The Parliament Centre was a colossal 'H' shaped building that was the unofficial centre of Human government; it was surrounded by a large iron fence with several parks and gardens around the exterior. The interior housed a giant fountain with great spiral staircases leading to marble catwalks which are surrounded by small Cafe's and offices.
Jeffery's office was at the very top floor, number 25, it was a circular room which had a glass observation balcony around the inner section that overlooked the fountain and the places below. The entrance was a great oak door with a brass knocker in the form of the ONI insignia.
John paced outside, unable to sit still in the uncomfortable fabricated chairs to his left. Jeffery's Receptionist scribbled something down on a clipboard and typed something in on the computer. She then proceeded to chew on the end of her pen, unaware that ink was slowly trickling down her chin.
"Attention, BBQ at Bob's place is being held on this year's 4th July," the voice of the Intercom came.
The Receptionist picked up the phone almost as soon as the first ring stopped, almost like she'd predicted the call would come. She put it down and spoke to John.
"Mr. Jeffery will see you now," her breath smelled strangely like dry whiskey. She smiled at the politician, her mouth covered in ink. John took a deep breath before going in.
"Ah, good morning, John. Take a seat," Jeffery ushered the politician to an armchair. He sat down at his desk and filed some papers, keeping one in his hand.
"What's that, sir?" John asked quizzically.
"What, this? This is your daughter's latest school report," he stated. "Very impressive, especially for someone her age."
"Thank you, sir. But... Why do you have a copy of my daughter's school report?"
A little of the colour drained from Jeffery's red face, he looked down at the report, unable to look John in the eye.
"ONI has instructed me to, er... Inform you of your plan's results. I've been over it with the executive board and they agree firmly with you," he licked his lips as they were getting dryer.
"Well, that's good news." John said. Jeffery replied with a simple stroke of his moustache, his calf-brown eye still fixed on the paper.
"They suggested a candidate for subject testing, John," his voice began to lower. John's eyes flared for a minute, he realised now why Jeffery had a copy of his daughter's school report. He began to shake his head slowly in distress.
"ONI selected your daughter, John. They believe she's more than suitable," Jeffery alleged. He could see John's face becoming almost as red as his own, tear began to swim in his eyes.
"You'll have a chance to say goodbye to her, she'll then be... Taken to one of the designated rendezvous points for... Training..." Jeffery stated flatly.
He watched the expression on John's face shift, from anger to questioning to sadness. "You can't make me do it! I won't!" Jeffery held his head in his hands and crossed something out on the report.
"She's just a girl, sir! She's not even..." John's voice broke as he sunk into the chair. "You've seen what they do to them! You've seen what happens, when the augmentation process goes wrong!" John shouted. "If you make me go through with this, I will tell people the truth." He threatened.
"But then, your daughter would know where she's going..."
John hesitated for a moment, failing to absorb what he was hearing.
"I'm... Sorry, John," Jeffery said calmly, his face now devoid of any redness. "I'm really very sorry... And I'm really very busy," he sighed.
John Strauss clenched his fist until his knuckles turned pearly white; his heart was beating fast, beating like horses hooves during a race. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he slowly opened the door and slumped against the wall, falling to his knees in despair.
Could he let it end like this? No... He had to do something...
*
Several hours later...
*
John had left the Parliament Centre and was walking down the high street of the Market. Everywhere he saw families, young children holding their parent's hand, never letting go whilst they crossed the road which was filled with the usual hustle and bustle of cars. John made his way over to the car-park where his shiny black Mercedes was parked.
He knew what he had to do... His daughter was going to be taken away from him, his wife would be left distraught and John Strauss's world would crumble apart.
The Mercedes pulled up outside a Police Station, a large concrete building with many large glass windows which gave people a good view of the inside offices.
John made his way up to the counter, wiping his sleeve over his face to mask his tears. A Police Officer, no older than 20, answered the call.
"Good day to you, sir. What can the law do for you today?" He asked happily.
"Requisition 43, please." He croaked.
The Officer tilted his head slightly, examining the politician cautiously. After a brief spell of questions, the Officer opened a cupboard and brought out a large silver briefcase.
"For all intents and purposes, sir. Have a nice day," the Officer waved at John as he left.