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Fan Fiction

A Contemplation: 2 of 3
Posted By: Delta-034<the.king.under.the.mountain@hotmail.com>
Date: 28 April 2006, 8:02 pm

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September 3, 2575 (Standard Civilian Calendar)
1600 Hours
Hodsens World
Outskirts of Del Ray

       Waves of the pleasantly hot ocean lapped up on the beach, the dark orange sun warming the ranks of vacationers as they lazed about. Two in particular, seemingly oblivious to all around them, basked in the fading light. One an attractive female, in skimpy beach clothes, the other a massive wall of a man. The other denizens of the beach couldn't help sending curious glances their way. But the two ignored the others; it was common in this day and age for an ex-Spartan and his wife to garner the odd fish-eyed stare. It no longer bothered them.

       The woman propped herself up on one elbow, gazing at her husbands gargantuan form she said in a husky tone. "Hand me a brewski, ya lazy bag o' bones." Though his face didn't show it, Spartan 060 grinned to himself. Janice was constantly reminding him why he liked her so. It seemed fitting somehow, that a Spartan would marry a marine drill sergeant.

       Ever so slowly he lifted his arm up and reached into the cooler, watching Janice's reaction from the corner of his eye. He noted how her face steadily grew more and more annoyed. Finally his hand broke through the magnetic seal on the cooler and came into contact with the super-cooled air inside. He turned to her and asked innocently: "Regular or light beer, darling?"

       Janice's face turned dark purple as she let out a cry of indignation. "Ah ye lily-livered son of a nova! Ya know we don't go no light shit!" Jimm again smiled to himself. It didn't take much to get Janice riled up. He pulled out a beer and sent it sailing through the air watching his loved one scramble to catch it. Janice snatched it and sent a glowering look in Jimm's direction. 060 turned back to the cooler and was reaching in when a loud metallic crack rent the air. Without thinking he knocked over the cooler and pulled out the M6D pistol hidden underneath. Forcing himself into a forward roll onto the warm sand, he came up on one knee and fired two shots.

       Two bullets rent the air
       Two eyes followed their trajectory.
       Two baseball playing vacationers fell, gaping craters where their skulls should have been.

       All this Spartan 060 took in before most of the others even heard the shots fired. All at once everyone realized what had happened and began filling the air with plaintive cries of shock and horror. Jimm looked at his wife, her face betrayed emotion that wasn't there moments before. "The war's over dammit! When will you ever learn! Always killing! It's like the only thing you're capable of! Just killing."

July 15, 2552 (Standard Military Calendar)
0500 Hours
Jehnahasen Star Cluster
On board Longsword class fighter.

       Spartan 060 jerked up into a sitting position so fast that he busted the restraints on the Longswords control seat. He could feel the sweat collecting underneath the MJOLNIR armor. A soft insistent beeping noise caused him to glance at the bio-display monitor. His pulse rate was outlined in red, nearly above the level it achieved during combat. The screen read that he had an abnormal amount of adrenaline in his system. Everything was wrong. Jimm hadn't even meant to fall asleep, much less dream. His mind went back to the memories.

       Is that what its going to be like? Never comfortable with a civilian life? Always a mere bundle of reflexes and muscle? Will I ever not have a duty? Not have orders, or even a use?

       Will I survive this war?

       Spartan 060, Jimm, glanced down at his unbreakable hands. Wishing he was with his family. The other Spartans would never have had doubts like this; they would have just followed their orders and won this damn war. Jimm wondered if any of the other Spartans were still alive. The orders packet hadn't specified whether or not the others would be attempting the same mission. He leaned forward until his helmet hit the consol. His eyes alighted upon the metal cylinder he had dropped in his sleep. Spartan 060 bent to retrieve the piece of equipment. With it he hardened his resolve. He didn't know if the others were alive or dead, but he still had his duty, his mission.

       Jimm turned back toward the sensor display and re-read the info on the Forerunner artifact he had discovered. The strangely carved rock was still floating in the midst of the methane cloud, the thirty kilos of C-12 still safely attached with their detonator. 060 smiled grimly beneath his helmet. Yes, soon this war would be over.

       Screw the consequences.

*Authors note: I fixed the title problem.
I know its short, but bear with me; I want to fully come to grips with the writing before I start putting out longer pieces.