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Into the Ranks by David Beale
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Into the Ranks: Points of View Told
Date: 14 September 2002, 7:58 pm
Location: Spartan and Marine Mess Hall/planet Reach Year: 2548
(Two Spartans sitting at a cafeteria table, a third Spartan enters mix)
Spartan 3: Hey guys. How are things?
Spartan 1: Good...(with mouth full)
Spartan 2: Yea, pretty good. (...As he downs his drink)
Spartan 3: How's the food?
Spartan 1: ...good...
Spartan 2: ...yea...good...
Spartan 3: How did you guys do out in the old battlefield today? Personally, I only killed forty-two Jackals today...and a few Grunts on the side...to add a little versatility to an already unfortunate kill number...(pauses) Guys? (Peering downwards)...I think I might be losing my touch...what are your numbers?
Spartan 1: uhh...fifty-four I believe...
Spartan 2: (wolfs down a chunk of burger)...sixty-five...with five unconsciouses...
Spartan 3: Not bad. How many rounds?
Spartan 2: Fifteen...and one frag grenade...I got bored...
Spartan 3: Not bad...needs work...but the Chief kills most of 'em anyhow...he hasn't even been using weapons lately...
Spartan 2: Yea...the Chief...good guy...good guy...
(The Master Chief comes striding into the mess hall at this point)
Spartan 1: ...and speaking of the untouchable, here he is in the cable...
Spartan 3: Look at him! Standin' all tall, and proud, and strong...
Master Chief: (In the background, making his rounds around the cafeteria tables) "I want to see that plate clean Spartan! Double time!" (He says with glaring veracity) "I want you strong and able soldier!"
Spartan 3: ...and...utterly superior...Ode to the Grunt killer! With respect...
Master Chief: (Still in the background, fussing) "And you soldier...
Spartan 2: Yea...I heard the UNSC gave him his own storage closet for all his medals and awards and stuff...with respect...
Master Chief: ...Get your filthy meat hooks off the table!"
Spartan 1: ...uhh closet? Actually, I think it was more like a storage section...a rather significant section as I am told...with respect...
Master Chief: "Show me some decency soldier! Double time!"
Spartan 2: Permission to speak, sir...
Spartan 3: Soldier, you're off duty...for now...
Spartan 2: Oh...right...Anyway, I heard they gave him his own weapons locker room too...correction...sector...weapons sector...with respect...sir...
Spartan 3: (pauses) How come he wears his helmet all the time? Doesn't it get hot? Speculatively, there could be anything behind that opaque visor...with respect...
Master Chief: "And you soldier..."
Spartan 1: I heard that the white of his eyes can very well blind a man...
Master Chief: "...Yes you! Slack jaw!"
Spartan 2: Yea...quite plausible for a man who's got ninety-nine percent sweltering acid flowing through his veins...umm...with respect...
Spartan 3: ...and the other one percent?
Spartan 2: ...UNDETERMINED ...according to ONI studies as of a week ago...I even proof-read the journal...
Master Chief: "Don't you give me that look slacker! Or I'll hand you your left arm!"
Spartan 3: Is that so? I thought that was a classified study...no Spartan access...
Master Chief: "Use your napkin for the good doctor Halsey's sake! Coagulated ketchup is not an easy target...especially when it comes to cleaning it off the Mjolnir armor battle suit, slacker!"
Spartan 2: Yea...well...I did have to kill a few people...just clinically dead though...
Spartan 3: Oh...yes...of course...
Spartan 2: I heard they exceeded three percent total bone mass on the carbide ossification too...
Master Chief: "Spartan, you start scrubbing that right off this instant! Just like the Covenant after they paint you orange and blue!"
Spartan 3: That is something...I thought that that was classified as well...no Spartan meddling....
Master Chief: "This instant Spartan! This ain't no Covenant gala!"
Spartan 2: Yea...well...All casualties this time...quite unfortunate...
Spartan 3: Oh...yea...right on...
Spartan 1: And I heard that when the Chief was young, Dr. Halsey...praise her, praise her... saw him bend steel with his bare hands...
Master Chief: "Put some effort into it! Triple double time!"
Spartan 2: Yea? And who can't?
Master Chief: "I wanna see some sweat beads soldier! Bloody sweat beads!"
Spartan 1: ...But it was five feet thick! And then he tossed the giant piece into the sky, only for it to return two days later as an ancient silver coin! Half millennia old I believe...
Spartan 3: Whoa...that's something...
Master Chief: "I shall not be denied! Shall I show you how I buried that Covenant Banshee into Jericho Seven's core, soldier!"
Spartan 1: Indeed...Oh, and hear this. Back right after those augmentation processes...wait...let me ponder...(pauses) or was that a dream I had? In fact...(pauses again) where am I? Oh well...I can't remember now for the love of Covenant target practice...anyways, a long time ago when we were all comatose zombies lying helplessly on med beds, theoretically dead if you will, the Chief was taking out fierce competitors death match style in a mammoth iron-caged dome buried beneath the workout facility...kind of like a macabre boxing ring...and those competitors, well, they weren't exactly human...
Master Chief: "What IS that over there?!? If that ain't a dead Grunt, I don't like it!"
Spartan 1: In fact, they were the ONI's first experimental cyborgs, programmed to kill, and the Chief took them out standing on his knees, one hand behind his back, blind-folded, and with the surgeons still operating on him...
Master Chief: "...A cigarette?!? Spartan, if I ever catch you lightin' up in this Mess Hall again I am gunna rip out your internal organs and paste them to the back wall! Grunt style! You copy me!?"
Spartan 3: ...But if they were the first...who came after them?
Spartan 1: Reach if I know...but whoever they are...I just hope they're nowhere near this system...
Spartan 3: But wow...he sure is something...made of brick if you ask me...
Master Chief: (someone launches an airborne honey biscuit over the MC's head) "What in the name of the Cole Protocol?!? We're under attack! Everyone hit the cafeteria floor!"
Spartan 1: Brick?!? That's hardly solid material! We're talking Titanium A armored battle-plate here!
Master Chief: "...What the?!? My mistake...Spartan! What d'I tell ya 'bout startlin' me?!? Give me your left arm!"
Spartan 2: What?!? That's barely impregnable material! We're talking...umm...we're talking about...uhh...we're talking...(slower) talking...Oh Reach! I think you've won this one...(loudly) sir! Sir, yes sir! Reporting for duty, sir!
(The Spartans pause to stuff their mouths)
Spartan 1: Look at that...(they all peer to a corner of the room) those petty marines...getting his autograph...(in corny voice) "Sign my boot too, Master Chief!"...Those losers...Covenant Kibble...enemy contact, sir! Spartan out!
Spartan 2: Yea...we see him everyday...(louder) With respect, sir!
Spartan 1: ...and make physical contact too...like just yesterday, after a battle, he brushed past me on my way to the Pelican...true story...I think that's why I got those two extra kills today...he's a part of me now...sir! With respect, sir! I would never oppose the admiralty, sir!
(The Spartans pause once more to cram in more food)
Spartan 3: Say, you guys ever wonder what, after we work the Covenant to utter death, they do with all those alien bodies? Respectful of your order Captain, sir!
(The other two Spartans pause and look up, confused by the sudden question)
Spartan 3: ...I mean, the bodies can't just lay strewn about all over the cities...they have to do something with them...don't they?
Spartan 1: Burn them probably...Sir! With respect!
Spartan 2: No, they probably just ship them out into the vacuum of space or something...
Spartan 3: Oh yea...You mean they cram them in those huge, oversized bags I see the UNSC ships stuffing into their cargo bay after the battle? The ones labeled...uhhh...M.H. or something...what does that stand for anyway?
Spartan 1: M.H.? Let's see...umm...ah Reach if I know!
Spartan 2: Who really cares? Marine Headquarters?...no, that's not it...Mess Ha---no, that ain't right either...(distant) Protocol requires it, sir! I have my mission operatives in my back pocket, sir!
(Another silence)
Spartan 3: Say, these burgers taste pretty good today.
Spartan 1: Yea...pretty good...
Spartan 2: (With mouth full)...good...
Spartan 3: Oww! Mother of Admiral Stanforth!
Spartan 1: What?
Spartan 3: ...I bit something hard in my burger...hey...what in Sam Reach?!?
Spartan 2: ...What is it?
Spartan 3: (Holding the small piece in the air)...It's...uhhh...it's an MA5B assault rifle round...
Spartan 1: ...(pauses) that's weird...with respect...
(Silence)
Spartan 2: Wait a second...that must mean...(mouth stops mid-chew) They gotta be more careful where they store those rifle rounds...change protocol...I'll be damned to Reach...
Spartan 3: ...Yea...good burger though...except that Reach-stricken mass of metal...
Spartan 1: Hey, by the way, I have a live Grunt stowed for safe-keeping in my locker right now...been there since noon...with respect to the UNSC command, sir!
Spartan 3: Is that so?
Spartan 1: Yea...the very one that tinged the Chief's armor today...
Spartan 2: What are you gunna do with the little bastard? Covenant incoming fire, sir!
Spartan 1: Oh...well...I was thinking spiritually...I might have it bless me later on or something...you know? I really do need those extra kills and all...Incoming plasma grenade! Fire at will! Sir, yes sir!
(The Spartans finish the remainder of their meal in utter silence)
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