- Rainman89
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!
about the delay...
i was finishing chapter eight when i realized some of the parts didn't fit right w/each other, so i had to rewrite a lot of it, but it will be done soon, here is what i have so far-
Chapter Eight
0700 Hours, January 27, 2525 (Military Calendar) /
Richter System, Richter VII, Camp Ulysses,
Officer’s Barracks
Simmons woke up on the day they were to depart for Reach and started packing. He dressed in his fatigues and holstered his M6C. Once his Duffel was full of all his possessions he headed for his warthog. He clipped the duffel onto the back, and hopped in the driver’s seat.
He drove to the depot and handed it over. He walked the half a mile to the airfield where the pelicans were being prepped for take off. O’Donnell and Dominique were talking to the pilot of one of the pelicans. Simmons walked up to them, and without saying a word to either Dominique or O’Donnell, he turned to the pilot and said, “Let’s go.” The pilot obeyed and walked into the cockpit, as the mechanics rushed off the airfield. The doors to the pelicans closed, and their engines roared to life. Simmons attached his bag to the floor of the pelican and strapped himself into a crash seat as the drop ship took off.
Simmons looked around; Dominique and O’Donnell were sitting next to each other, quietly discussing something. With Simmons’ advanced hearing abilities, he could have paid attention, and hear every word, but he did not care to. There were also five other men from Simmons’ platoon. They were all quiet, some of them seemed frightened of Simmons, and no one was sitting within a seat of him. He felt the pelican accelerate as it cleared Richter VII’s atmosphere, and the ride became smoother. Simmons patiently waited as the pelican slowly approached the oncoming Montgomery, the ship was outfitted with over one hundred ODSTs, and Simmons was hoping to blend in, but that would mean he would have to stay away from the gym. Simmons rarely worked out anymore, Halsey had said it wasn’t necessary after the augmentation, but it felt strange nonetheless.
Simmons could feel the drop ship decelerate as it entered the Montgomery’s hangar bay, and gravity was restored. Once the pelican landed the marines started to pile out. Simmons waited for everyone to leave, and once the pilot had exited the cockpit he slowly exited the back hatch and walked to the corridor that would take him to his quarters.
He could hear whispers coming from the assorted pilots and mechanics in the crowded hangar, and most were directed at him. He ignored the looks and whispers, and quietly weaved his way through Pelicans and Longswords as well as one small ONI corvette. He wondered who the ONI officials aboard the Montgomery were, and if they knew about him.
Simmons arrived at the corridor and left the whispers and glances behind him. He walked down the corridor, which was luckily deserted. Simmons felt good to be alone. He was not always like this, but now he succumbed to the wish to be alone, to just think. And remember. There were only two things that made him comfortable now; being alone, or being in combat.
As he reached the end of the empty corridor he entered his quarters. He had requested to be as far from the main crew quarters as possible. He was finally completely alone. He dropped his duffel unceremoniously on the floor and sat on his bed. He thought about Reach, and the new Spartans, and Dr. Halsey. After five hours of sitting and thinking Simmons could feel his stomach churn from hunger, and prepared to leave for the Montgomery’s mess hall.
As he exited his room for the ship’s elevator his thoughts were suddenly thrown to his parents. He did not know why he was reminded of them, but sure enough he could not stop from thinking of them. His parents had been horrible people. His father abused him; that was why he started to work out. His mother insulted him often, so he began to study as well. He realized now, that though his parents, if they were still alive, were horrible role models, they had shaped him into the exemplary Marine he was. He had become fit so he could defend himself, and he studied to prove his mother wrong.
The horrible household had driven his brother to leave for the UNSC, just as it done to Simmons. His drive to be the best had led him to join the Spartan I program. He knew now that his parents were the reason for everything, good or bad, that happened in his life. He no longer blamed them, but accepted their role in shaping his life.
Simmons reached the elevator and stopped thinking about his childhood. As gravity fluctuated between the spinning decks of the Montgomery as it ascended Simmons simply stood there, the other passengers made quick glances at him, but that was normal to Simmons now, and did not bother him.
As Simmons entered the crowded mess hall, he could sense the feeling of awe that passed over the crew and Marines stationed on the Montgomery. Simmons had recently been measured at seven feet three inches, and he weighed in at three hundred thirty-four pounds. He lowered his head as he entered and walked for the buffet line.
The ship was outfitted with a prototype portable hydroponics center, and there were ample, lush vegetables and fruits laid out. Simmons grabbed a tray and slowly advanced down the line. He noticed he was grabbing twice as much as the men in front of him, and started to pick less. Once he was through the line he scanned the mess hall. He looked for any members of his platoon, the only men who understood him, but he saw none of them. It reminded him of his days in the academy. Simmons had known what it was like to be alone well before his augmentation. As a child he was felt forced to be alone, and would not venture out into the world. At the academy that changed, he met Amacus, and finally had what he could call a friend. Now that Amacus was dead, Simmons had no one. He knew that wasn’t true, he had O’Donnell, and Dominique, but still he felt alone as he sat at an empty table and began to eat his plentiful meal. He could practically feel the burning glances cast by those around him. He simply sat and ate.
As he finished his meal he got up to leave the mess hall. Through his peripheral vision he could see three men get up as he did, and the followed him into the empty corridor.
sorry, its not that much i know