Lieutenant Christopher Burns looked up and admired the sky.
The bright blue nebula radiated through the night sky. After a few moments he
entered his M12 civilian Warthog and began heading to the outskirts of town. He
had no idea what he was getting into, but it’s not everyday someone offers to
cure your wife’s neurological disease. “Metabolic Cascade Failure” they called
it. A series of neurological diseases attacking the brain in short succession.
The doctors gave her a little less than a year to live. After about 45 minutes the Szurdok Ridge
began to appear on the horizon. He gripped his steering wheel a little harder
as he got closer. He slowed to a stop. He exited the vehicle and took in his
surroundings. The middle of the desert. The surrounding mountain range
complimented the star filled sky.
“Where the hell are you?” muttered
Burns. He looked down at his watch, the agreed meeting time was ten minutes ago
and he was contemplating on leaving, but he dismissed that idea. He looked
around once more at the barren horizon as the cold air chewed through his
uniform. The cold wasn’t usually a problem but his nerves were getting the
better of him. Getting caught would mean the end of his military career, not to
mention he would be court martialed for treason. He would throw all of it away
if it meant saving his wife.
A few
minutes later a pair of bright white headlights appeared in the distance
followed by the distinctive whine of an M12 Warthog. This one wasn’t the
standard military variant though. It was jet-black and heavily armored with
gull-wing doors. It slowed to a stop, a cloud of dirt flowed through the bright
beams of the headlights. A masked figure exited the vehicle wearing a long
black trench coat and a sleek, black, reflective, helmet, a briefcase in hand.
He took a few steps forward, stopped about ten feet in front of Burns and threw
the breifcase at his feet, kicking up a cloud of dirt. Burns picked up the
briefcase and opened it. Inside was a data pad.
The figure
spoke, his voice cold and distorted. “Inside you will find the data, notes, and
personal memoirs of Doctor Catherine Halsey with regards to the SPARTAN-II
project. We have improved upon them. You will also find a list of candidates,
their dossiers, and armor schematics. You will use these throughout the course
of Project PALADIN. We expect nothing less than extreme success.” The figure
swiftly turned around, entered his warthog and drove off.
Burns activated the data pad and
examined its contents. It was true, everything Halsey had written, and more.
Burns couldn’t help but smile. “I think the Spartans just became obsolete.”
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