Spirit of Fire (Graeme Devine)

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Spirit of Fire est une série d'histoires courtes par Graeme Devine, Lead Writer de Halo Wars, visant à aider les autres développeurs à « intérioriser l'ambiance à bord du Spirit of Fire ». Diffusés sur le site personnel de Devine, ces histoires sont qualifiées par son auteur de fan-fiction.

Crew Reports

HERSHEY - Part 1

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Just how did some of the crew get to Spirit of Fire?
Thursday, January 22, 2009

The world according to Hershey was sad and depressing. Somehow the days were getting longer and the work was getting more stressful. It didn’t help that she worked for a bastard who seemed to derive joy from making her life a living hell.

To make matters worse David was currently storming out of the apartment, he had proposed last night and she said no. He had slept on the couch and was now carrying off boxes while Hershey hid under the covers in their bed. She wasn’t entirely sure why she said no, but she was certain that she had to be entirely sure to say yes. With the rest of her life ahead of her she wanted to get somewhere, be something, do something and have something before she settled down to marriage. Was that asking too much?

She waited until the squealing wheels of his truck told her that he was gone and then she waited some more. The darkness of hiding under the covers all curled up and able to feel separate from these problems, even for just a little while, was about the only comfort she could handle right now.

She was 24, in therapy, taking anti-depressants, living on her own and working for a vindictive bastard. Yeah, she thought, the life plan is coming together. I’m on my way.

The phone had been ringing on and off all morning and she had successfully ignored it while David was pulling his pictures off the wall and deleting his music from the media center. Now it was ringing again, louder and more pissed off than before. Definitely louder.

Hershey picked it up, “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” It was her boss, the evil and vindictive Doctor Kay.

Hershey hated work, “I’m off today. I just came off a double.”

“Well Brooke and Vasquez didn’t show, so you’re up again. Lucky you.”

Both Brooke and Vasquez were screwing Kay. They hardly worked even when they did show up.

“No.” Hershey found some part of herself that wasn’t going to be pushed over and she was as surprised as Kay when she uttered the word.

“No? No? You are one insubordinate bitch! I should fire you…”

She interrupted, no one called her a bitch, “Sorry Doctor Kay, but this bitch just quit.”

She threw the phone across the room pulled the covers over her head and hid again.

It was dark when she decided that she really had to get up and do something. Like shower and eat and go back to bed.

She turned on the news while she sat and finished off a potato salad and bottle of wine.

Some commercial was playing, smiling people against a blue sky. “The UN Medical Corp wants you! Looking for a and more secure better future? Openings immediately available! Press MORE now for information!”

Hershey stared down at the remote. The MORE button was glowing. She looked around her empty apartment, squares of dust where pictures once hung, an empty shell pretending to be a real life. There was nothing here and no future she could think of. The MORE button was easy to press. </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> De quelle manière quelques membres de l'équipage se sont retrouvés sur le Spirit of Fire ?
Jeudi 22 janvier 2009

Le monde selon Hershey était triste et déprimant. D'une certaine manière les journées s'allongèrent et le travaille devenait plus stressant. Le fait qu'elle travaillait pour un bâtard qui semblait se réjouir de faire de sa vie un enfer n'aidait pas.

Pour ne rien arranger, David était en train de sortir rapidement de l’appartement, il avait fait sa demande et elle avait refusé. Il dormit sur le sofa et il sortait maintenant ses cartons pendant qu'Hershey se cachait sous les draps de leur lit. Elle n'était pas sûr de la raison de son refus mais elle était certaine qu'elle devait être totalement certaine pour dire oui. Il lui restait sa vie entière devant elle et elle voulait voyager, être quelqu’un, faire quelque chose et avoir des choses avant de s'installer dans un mariage. Est-ce trop demander ?

Elle attendit jusqu'à ce que les grincements des roues du camion lui indique qu'il était parti et elle attendit encore un peu. La noirceur de sous les draps l'enveloppant et la sensation d'être loin de ses problèmes étaient les seuls réconfort qu'elle avait maintenant.

Elle avait 24 ans sous anti-dépresseur, vivant seule et travaillant pour un bâtard vindicatif. Ouais, elle pensa, son plan de vie se construit. Je suis sur la bonne voie.

Le téléphone avait sonné toute la matinée et elle avait réussi à l'ignorer pendant que David reprenait ses photo des murs et sa musique de l'espace média. Il sonnait encore une fois, plus fortement et plus énervant qu'avant. Vraiment plus fort.

Hershey décrocha « Allô ? »

« Mais où est ce que vous êtes ? » C'était son patron, le vindicatif et diabolique Docteur Kay.

Hershey détestait travailler « Je travaile pas aujourd'hui. Je suis de deuxième appel. »

« Et bien Brooke et Vasquez ne sont pas venu donc vous devez venir. Quelle chanceuse ! »

Brooke et Vasquez baisaient Kay. Ils travaillaient déjà peu quand ils étaient présent.

« Non. » Hershey trouva un part d'elle qui n'allait pas être renvoyé et elle fut aussi surprise que Kay quand elle prononça le mot.

« Non ? NON ? T'es une salope insubordonnée ! Je devrait te virer... »

Elle l'interrompit, personne ne l'appeler salope. « Désolé Docteur Kay, mais cette salope vient de démissionner. »

Elle jeta le téléphone au travers de la pièce, se remit sous les draps et se cacha.

Il faisait noir lorsqu'elle se décida qu'elle devait vraiment se lever et faire quelque chose. Comme se laver et manger et puis retourner au lit.

Elle alluma les infos pendant qu'elle s’asseyait et finissait une salade de patate et une bouteille de vin.

Une publicité se déroulait, des gens souriant face à un ciel bleu. « L'UN Medical Corps vous veut ! Vous chercher un meilleur futur, plus ûr ? Les inscriptions sont immédiatement possible ! Appuyer sur PLUS maintenant pour plus d'informations ! »

Hershey regarda la télécommande. Le bouton PLUS brillait. Elle regarda autour d'elle son appartement vide, des carrés de poussière aux endroits où les photos étaient présentes, une carapace vide prétendant être la vrai vie. Il n'y avait rien ici et aucun futur ne lui venait à l'esprit. Le bouton PLUS fut facile à appuyer. </toggledisplay>

HERSHEY - Part 2

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Part 2 of Hershey’s journey to Spirit of Fire.
Friday, January 23, 2009

Hershey had signed the papers as she walked into the recruitment building and lied when she was asked if she had read and understood them. The building was really more of a classroom than an office. She sat down at the back and waited while the room filled up.

There was a lot more military there than she thought should be for a UN deal. I mean, what did they have to do with some sort of relief effort job? She’d be off to some earthquake zone or something and out of this rut. They started to play a vid, something about making a difference. Hershey honestly zoned out through most of it.

She had submitted her details over the comm from the apartment. Nursing degree, Chelsea Trauma Center for 2 years, another year in an AirCare Ambulance before deciding that Doctor Evil was the quiet nursing life she was really looking for. How wrong had that decision been! She erased his name from her resume. No need to let him know or say anything.

The lights flickered back on, names were being read out. She came around the middle.

“Hershey, line 3.”

She walked on over to the empty line 3. In addition to the overly large number, the words “Spirit of Fire” filled out the rest of the sign. Obviously the psych eval was right on the money. </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Seconde partie du périple d'Hershey vers le Spirit of Fire
Vendredi 23 janvier 2009

Hershey avait signé les papiers dès qu'elle était entrée dans le bâtiment de recrutement et mentit lorsqu'on lui demanda si elle les avait lu et compris. Le bâtiment était vraiment plus une salle de classe qu'un bureau. Elle s'assit au fond et attendit tandis que la pièce se remplisse.

Il y avait beaucoup plus de militaires qu'elle ne s'y attendait pour ce qui relevait de l'ONU. Je veux dire, qu'avaient-ils à voir avec une sorte d'opération de secours ? Elle serait envoyée dans une zone sismique ou quelque chose comme cela et elle sortirait de son marasme. Ils lancèrent une vidéo, quelque chose en rapport avec le fait de faire la différence. Hershey n'écouta pas la majorité de celle-ci.

Elle avait envoyé ses informations depuis son terminal dans son appartement. Ayant obtenue le diplôme d'infirmière puis après avoir passé 2 ans dans le Chelsea Trauma Center et une autre année dans les ambulances AirCare avant de décider que travailler avec le Docteur Denfer était la petite vie d'infirmière tranquille qu'elle recherchait. Comment cette décision fut fausse ! Elle effaça son nom de son CV. Pas besoin qu'il soit au courant ou qu'il ne dise quoi que se soit.

Les lumières se rallumèrent et des noms furent énumérés. Le sien arriva au milieu.

« Hershey, ligne 3. »

Elle marcha vers la ligne 3 vide. En plus des nombres en gros, les mots « Spirit of Fire » remplissait le reste du panneau. Apparemment l'évaluation psychiatrique avait raison. </toggledisplay>

Personal log, nurse Hershey

Medbay

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Things are not going well..
Friday, January 23, 2009

13:02

UNSC 0b Unsigned Open Line

Medbay, Spirit of Fire.

Casualties have been pouring into the medbay. We’re one of the few functional medbays left in the fleet and we’re overwhelmed. We’re dead on our feet and out of stims, most pain meds, and coffee. Power has been intermittent the last few hours and the ship has heaved more than once. Comm systems are down so walkies are all we have to let us know if were going to live or die in the next few seconds.

At first we were doing fine. I don’t understand why anything is happening. I just stare blankly at the soldiers in front of me and try to save their lives.

The Prophecy just lost its engines and we netted as many escape pods as we could. Half the pods went through the radiation pulse from the engines and anyone inside was cooked alive. The other half might as well died because their radiological alarms attached to their uniforms are screaming. God, we don’t even have any morphine to give them.

I can’t do this. </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Les choses ne vont pas bien ...
Vendredi 23 janvier 2009

13h02

UNSC 0b Ligne ouverte non-assignée

Spirit of Fire, Infirmerie

Les blessés se sont entassés dans l'infirmerie. Nous sommes l'une des dernière infirmerie de la flotte et nous sommes surchargées. On ne tient plus debout et il n'y a plus de stimulants, surtout contre la douleur, et de cafés. Dans les dernières heures, il y a eu du courant par intermittence et le vaisseau trembla plus d'une fois. Les systèmes de communications sont coupés donc les talkies sont tous ce qui reste pour nous permettre d'être au courant si nous allons survivre ou non dans les prochaines secondes.

Au début, tout se passé bien. Je ne comprends pas comment se cela peut se produire. Je regarde juste les soldats en face de moi et je tente de les sauver.

Le Prophecy vient de perdre ses moteurs et nous rapportons autant de nacelle de survie que possible. La moitié de ceux-ci sont passées à portée du champs de radiation des moteurs et tout ceux à l’intérieur furent brûlés vivant. L'autre moitié pourrait mourir aussi parce que leurs compteurs de radiations sonnent à fond. Mon Dieu, on a même pas de morphine à leur donner.

Je ne peux pas continuer. </toggledisplay>

Medbay. Again

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Hershey’s shift ends...
Saturday, January 24, 2009

Personal log, nurse Hershey
UNSC 0b Unsigned Open Line

Medbay, Spirit of Fire.

3:34am

Medbay is being scrubbed because of the radioactivity from the Prophecy crew casualties. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see them, smell them, hear them. I see their eyes pleading with me to end this and I can’t look away. I see someone’s hands covered in blood getting feeds into them, holding them down as they go into shock and being strong. Was that me? Am I strong? </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> La garde de Hershey se termine.
Samedi 24 janvier 2009

Journal personnel, infirmière Hershey
UNSC 0b Ligne ouverte non-assignée

Infirmerie, Spirit of Fire

3h34

L'infirmerie est en train d'être récurée à cause de la radioactivité venant de l'équipage du Prophecy. Je n'arrive pas à dormir. Chaque fois que je ferme les yeux, je les vois, je les sens et je les entends. Je vois leurs yeux me supplier de mettre fin à leurs vies et je ne peux regarder ailleurs. Je vois les mains de quelqu'un couvertes de sang les nourrir, les maintenir lorsqu'ils sont en état de choc et être fortes.
Était-ce moi ? Suis-je forte ? </toggledisplay>

Medbay - The cat is pregnant

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> A few battles in....
Sunday, January 25, 2009

UNSC 0b Unsigned Open Line

Medical Quarters, Spirit of Fire.

Spock is showing signs of being pregnant. This means two things. One, she isn’t a boy, and two, there’s more than one cat on the ship. At least we aren’t the only ones breaking regulations.

Medbay is back up and running. We’ve still got some patients, a few marines from the surface engagement suffering from energy weapon wounds, a few citizens with breathing problems, and some of the Prophecy crew that made it through.

We’re going to open up one of the aliens today. Three people have called in sick so far, can’t say I blame them. Me, I can’t wait.

What is happening to me? Why didn’t I call in sick?

Mom, if you ever read this I think Dad would be proud of me now. </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Quelques batailles plus tard...
Dimanche 2 janvier 2009

Ligne ouverte non-assignée UNSC 0b

Quartiers médicaux, Spirit of Fire.

Spock montre des signes d'une grossesse. Cela veut dire deux choses. D'une, elle n'est pas un garçon, et deux, il y a plus d'un chat dans ce vaisseau. Au moins je ne suis pas la seule à enfreindre le règlement.

L'infirmerie est à nouveau prête. Nous avons toujours certains patients, quelques Marines provenant des engagements à la surface souffrant de blessures d'armes à énergie, quelques citoyens avec des problèmes de respiration, et même un certain nombre de membres d'équipage du Prophecy ayant survécu.

Nous allons ouvrir un des aliens aujourd'hui. Trois personnes se sont déclarées malades pour le moment, je peux pas dire que je leur en veut. Moi, j'ai hâte.

Qu'est-ce qui m'arrive ? Pourquoi je ne me suis pas mise pas mis en arrêt ?

Maman, si jamais tu lis ça, je pense que papa serait fier de moi maintenant. </toggledisplay>

Hand Holding

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Hope dwindles for the remaining crew of The Prophecy
Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Personal Log, Spirit of Fire

UNSC 0b Unsigned Open Line

Medbay, Spirit of Fire.

Another of the Prophecy crew died tonight, we nearly killed him when he came in because he was allergic to the antirad meds. I held his hand as he died. By held I mean I held his hand through a thick rubber glove in my biosuit. By died I mean euthanized. There was nothing else we could do, the radiation was eating him from the inside and the only thing we could do was tell him which button increased his morphizone. He whispered a short letter to his Wife before he fell into a coma. There are a lot of families getting a lot of letters. I wrote mine and told Serina to send it in case it comes to that.

Spock is here on my lap as I write this. I think she’s looking for somewhere to have these kittens and my bunk is high on her list. The captain came through here yesterday and said the cat was good luck. He could have written us all up for having her but I think he realizes we need to have some human moments.

Since the initial battle we’ve had eight ready alerts. All false alarms. All probably debris or some ghost on the sensors. We’re all jittery and running on very little sleep. We’re jumping tomorrow and the whisper is that the rest of the fleet isn’t going with us because they are too badly damaged and need to head back to Reach. Medical staff are the last to know the truth but the first to know about a crisis.

I can’t get that Prophecy guy out of my head. How many more hands am I going to have to hold? </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> L'espoir diminue pour l'équipage survivant du Prophecy
Mardi, 27 janvier 2009

Journal personnel, Spirit of Fire

Ligne ouverte non-assignée UNSC 0b

Infirmerie, Spirit of Fire

Un autre membre du Prophecy est mort aujourd'hui, nous l'avions presque tué lorsqu'il était arrivé à cause d'une allergie aux médicaments anti-radiations. Je tenais sa main lorsqu'il est mort. Par tenir je veux dire que j'ai tenu sa main à travers le gant en caoutchouc de ma combinaison.Par mourir je veux dire euthanasié. Il n'y avait rien d'autre que nous puissions faire, les radiations le détruisaient de l’intérieur et la seule chose que nous pouvions faire était de lui monter sur quelle bouton il fallait appuyer pour augmenter sa dose de morphine. Il chuchota une courte lettre à sa femme avant qu'il ne tombe dans le coma. Il y a beaucoup de familles qui reçoivent beaucoup de lettres. J'ai écrit la mienne et j'ai dit à Serina de l'envoyer au cas où.

Spock est sur mes genoux pendant que j'écris cela. Je pense qu'elle recherche un endroit pour avoir ses chatons et ma couchette est haute sur sa liste. Le capitaine est passé hier et indiqua que la chat était vraiment une chance. Il aurait pu écrire tout cela pour l'avoir mais je pense qu'il comprends que nous avons besoin de moments humains.

Depuis la bataille initiale nous avons eu huit alertes de proximité. Toutes des fausses alertes. Sûrement des débris ou des fantômes sur les radars. Nous sommes tous nerveux et nous manquons de sommeil. Nous faisons un saut demain et les rumeurs indiquent que le reste de la flotte ne nous suivra pas parce qu'ils sont trop endommagés et ils ont besoin de rentrer sur Reach. Les membres du personnel médical sont les derniers à savoir la vérité mais les premiers à connaitre les crises.

Je ne peux pas oublier ce type du Prophecy. Combien de main vais-je devoir encore tenir ? </toggledisplay>

Hot Cocoa

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Another nightshift, another story...
Sunday, February 1, 2009

I picked up on another night shift. Since I had sat with the last of the Prophecy crew it has been easier to work nights and avoid people. There’s the odd walk in or guard that comes through almost every evening but nothing compared to the day shifts. I guess it’s weird to think that a space ship has a day or night shift but I guess some human habits never fade away.

But tonight I had something happen that’s changed the way I see the ship and the people here. The Captain came down. When he walked in I almost fell out of my chair! I had seen him during announcements and his picture is often on the front of the Spirit for some reason or other, but this was him in the flesh!

Anyway, he told me that medbay always had the best cocoa mix and proceeded to make us both a mug of hot cocoa and sat right down on a bunk next to the my station! He smiled and looked around. It was just him and me, but Serina’s station had lit up, she’s sometimes pretty obvious about listening in and we often talk at night anyway so I really didn’t mind.

We must have sat there five or ten minutes in silence, each sipping cocoa, him examining both the room and eventually locking his eyes on me. I don’t know if I blurted out a “sir, are you okay?” or if he just started to talk. Well, actually, it might have been / was the other way around....

I told him about the hands I had held in recent weeks, the letters I had written to loved ones from crew too sick to type or write on their own. The way I had said no to my boyfriend back home when he asked me to marry him and how that was the biggest mistake of my life.

Through it all he sipped his cocoa and listened. With all the weight on his shoulders he listened to me talking about my social life as if it was the most important thing in the universe.

I must have talked for an hour. Easily.

When his cocoa was done he stood up and went to the door. He looked back and asked “What is his name?”

I was lost for a second, but then I realized he meant David.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll want to meet him when we get home. Can’t have my crew just marrying anyone.”

This life is crazy and odd, but I think I really needed that cup of cocoa. </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Une autre garde, une autre histoire...
Dimanche 1^er Février 2009

J'ai pris une autre garde. Depuis que je me suis assise avec le dernier membre d'équipage du Prophecy cela fut plus facile de travailler la nuit et d'éviter les autres personnes. Il y a bien les étranges rendez-vous ou des gardes qui viennent presque tout les soirs mais rien comparé à la journée. Je suppose que c'est bizarre de penser qu'un vaisseaux spatial a une garde de journée et de nuit mais je suppose que certaines habitudes humaines ne disparaissent jamais.

Mais cette nuit il y c'est passé quelque chose qui a changé le façon que je voyais le vaisseau et les personnes à son bord. Le Capitaine est arrivé. Quand il est entré j'ai failli tombé de ma chaise ! Je l'avais déjà vu durant les annonces et sa photo est souvent exposé sur le Spirit of Fire pour une raison ou une autre mais c'était lui en chair et en os !

Bref, il m'a dis que l'infirmerie avait le meilleur chocolat chaud et commença à nous faire un mug de chocolat chaud chacun puis il s'assit à côté de mon poste ! Il sourit et regarda autour de lui. C'était juste lui et moi mais la centrale de Serina s'était allumée, il était évident qu'elle écoutait et nous parlions souvent la nuit de toute façon donc je ne m'en occupait pas vraiment.

Nous avons du rester là cinq ou dix minutes en silence, chacun buvant notre chocolat, lui regardant à la fois la pièce et finalement se focalisant sur moi. je ne sais pas si j'ai laissé échappé un "monsieur, allez vous bien ?" ou si il a juste commencé à parler. Enfin, finalement, cela aurait pu être / fut dans l'autre sens...

Je lui ai dis au sujet des mains que j'ai tenu ces dernières semaines, les lettres que j'ai écrit aux êtres chères venant de membres d'équipage trop malades pour taper ou écrire eux-même. La manière dont j'ai dis non à mon petit-copain chez moi lorsqu'il me demanda en mariage et comment ce fut la plus grande erreur de ma vie.

Durant tout ce temps il sirota son chocolat et écouta. Avec toute son poids sur ses épaules il m'écouta parler de ma vie sociale comme si c'était la chose la plus importante dans l'univers.

J'ai du parlé une heure, facile.

Quand son chocolat fut fini il se leva et alla vers la porte. Il regarda en arrière et demanda "Quelle est son nom ?"

Je fus perdue pendant une seconde puis je réalisa qu'il voulait parler de David.

"Et bien..." il dit, "J'ai envie de le rencontrer quand nous rentrerons. je ne peux pas laisser mon équipage se marier avec n'importe qui."

Cette vie est folle et bizarre mais je pense que j'avais vraiment besoin de cette tasse de chocolat. </toggledisplay>

Incoming

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> A new enemy....
Monday, February 2, 2009

08:23

UNSC 0b Unsigned Open Line

Medbay, Spirit of Fire

We were never ready. Never ready for the war. The Covenant. Now this.

By 0700 we had our first round of casualties incoming. I triaged in the hangar bay before we shipped them down to medbay. I held hands and made calls, giving some of them morphine and telling them they would be okay as I moved onto the next knowing that they wouldn’t be okay, that they were dying, that they were already dead.

The thing that has me mad, mad at myself, is that I was able to make the calls. I held them, looked into their eyes, told them they would be okay, and moved on. I did that. How can I do that? How can any human do that?

This is all just madness. We’re fighting an alien lifeform so hostile that the Covenant even seem afraid of it. I see the nightmares the soldiers have when they wake up screaming, that their comrades, friends even, become their enemies. The ones who came back, the ones in the beds, those are the ones who shot their friends, most in the first wave didn’t shoot. They didn’t come back.

I hear they are burning the dead down there. The medbay has guards outside the door, and death in here is treated with suspicion. They still aren’t 100% sure what makes this new enemy work. What makes them use our own against us. I don’t even want to know what we do with the dead up here.

More incoming in a minute. Omega. God, what would happen if one of them turned? </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Un nouvel ennemi...
Lundi 2 février 2009

08 : 23

Ligne ouverte non-assignée UNSC 0b

Infirmerie, Spirit of Fire

Nous n'avons jamais été prêt. Jamais prête pour la guerre. Les Covenants. Maintenant ça.

A 0700 nous avons eu notre première fournée de pertes. Je les ai trié dans le hangar avant qu'ils soient envoyés à l'infirmerie. J'ai tenu des mains et fait des appels, donné de la morphine et leur ai dit que tout allait bien se passer lorsque je savais qu'ils n'allaient pas bien, qu'ils étaient en train de mourir, qu'ils étaient déjà mort.

Le truc qui ma rendu furieuse, furieuse contre moi, c'est que je pouvais passer des appels. Je les ai tenu, regardé dans les yeux, dis que tout irais bien, et passer à quelqu'un d'autre. Je l'ai fait. Comment je peux le faire ? Comment un humain peut faire ça ?

C'est juste de la folie. Nous nous battons contre des aliens tellement hostile que même les Covenants semblent effrayés par eux. Je vois les cauchemars des soldats lorsqu'ils se réveillent en criant, lorsque leurs camarades, ou même leurs amis, deviennent leurs ennemis. Ceux qui reviennent, ceux dans les lits, ce sont eux qui ont tirés sur leurs amis, durant la première vague la plupart n'ont pas tiré. Ils ne sont pas revenu.

Je les entends dire qu'ils brûlent les morts en bas. L'infirmerie a des gardes à l’extérieur et la mort est traité ici avec suspicion. Ils ne sont toujours pas sûr à 100% comment fonctionne ce nouvel ennemi. Ce qui lui permet d'utiliser les nôtres contre nous. Je ne veux même pas savoir ce qu'ils font avec les cadavres en haut.

D'autres arrivent dans une minute. Omega. Mon Dieu, que ce passerait-il si l'un d'entre eux se transformait ? </toggledisplay>

Medbay Breakdown

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Lulu is a little angry...
Wednesday, February 4, 2009

UNSC 0b Unsigned Open Line

Medical Quarters, Spirit of Fire.

And when I shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Uggggggh. It makes me SOOO mad to read the daily bullshit they level at us. I just read the Spirit and it has the following in it:

Doctor Sandmoore is a fitness and
nutrition expert who gained his degree
in 2459 from the New Cairo School of
Advanced Medicine.

Well, let me tell you a little about Sandmoore. He’s a fat chain smoking guy who broke down during the attack and left us all while I’m sure he went and found a bottle of whiskey to keep him company. I dealt with the Prophecy crew, I pronounced them DOA, I told them they would be okay as the radiation ate their organs from the inside, I didn’t run from my job.

And now this fluff job to make us all feel safe. Like anyone believes that crap. And what’s this BS that primary power will be offline to all the quarters EXCEPT the officers.

Okay I feel better now. Serina if you’re reading this please don’t report me, I just had to vent. Girl to girl okay?

Lulu </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Lulu est un petit peu en colère...
Mercredi 4 février 2009

Ligne ouverte non-assignée UNSC 0b

Quartiers médicaux, Spirit of Fire

Et lorsque je mourrais,

quand il sera mort,

prends-le et coupe le en petites étoiles,

et il rendra la face du ciel si splendide

que tout l'univers sera amoureux de la nuit

et refusera son culte à l'aveuglant soleil

Oooohhhh. Cela me mets tellement en colère de lire cette connerie quotidienne qu'ils nous envoient. Je viens juste de lire le Spirit et cela à ce qui suit à l’intérieur :

Le docteur Sandmoore est un expert sportif et nutritionnel qui a obtenu son diplôme en 2459 à l'Académie de Médecine Avancée du Nouveau Caire.

Bon, laissez moi vous parler un peu de Sandmoore. C'est une gros gars qui n'arrête pas de fumer qui s'est enfuit durant une attaque et nous a laissé pendant que, j'en suis sûr, il a trouvé une bouteille de whisky pour se tenir compagnie. Je me suis occupé de l'équipage du Prophecy, je les ai prononcé mort à l'admission, je leur ai dis que tout allez bien se passer pendant que les radiations bouffaient leurs organes de l’intérieur. Je ne me suis pas enfuit de mon boulot.

Et maintenant ce boulot en carton pour tous ce sentir en sécurité. Comme si quelqu'un croyant en ces conneries. Et qu'est ce que c'est que ça que l'énergie soit désactivée SAUF dans les quartiers des officiers.

OK, je me sens mieux maintenant. Serina si tu lis ça, s'il te plait ne me signale pas. J'avais juste besoin d'évacuer cette colère. De femme à femme hein ?

Lulu </toggledisplay>

Spirit of Fire Event Log - Incident Report

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> A friendly game....
Wednesday, February 4, 2009

The squad and I thought we would introduce ourselves to the Spartans who came onboard at Arcadia and it seemed that a friendly game of bball would be a good way to see what they were made of. There were only three of them and nine of us but they insisted on playing the uneven odds.

During the game a scuffle broke out after a verbal altercation between Meadows and Douglas 42.

Six of my squad is listed as stable, Meadows requires an ocular implant and Stephens wont be jumping anytime soon. My own arm and collarbone are broken but should quickheal without complications.

As squad leader I take full responsibility for the safety of my team and any disciplinary action should be directed at me. The Spartan team is in no way responsible for the injuries sustained during this friendly game of basketball. On behalf of my squad I would like to apologize for any disparaging remarks the squad may have said during the heat of the game. </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Un match amical…
Mercredi 4 février 2009

Mon escouade et moi avons pensé nous présenter aux Spartans montés à bord à Arcadia et avons trouvé qu’un match amical de B-ball nous donnerait un bon aperçu de ce qu’ils avaient dans le ventre. Ils n’étaient que trois alors que nous étions neuf mais ils ont insisté pour conserver cette inégalité.

Pendant la partie, une bagarre éclata suite à un accrochage entre Meadows et Douglas 42.

Six de mes hommes sont dans un état stable, Meadows a besoin d’un implant oculaire et Stephens ne sautera plus de sitôt. De mon côté, j’ai un bras et une clavicule cassés mais je devrais vite m’en remettre sans complications.

En tant que chef d’escouade, j’assume l’entière responsabilité de la sécurité de mon équipe et toute sanction disciplinaire devra m’être adressée. L’équipe des Spartans n’est en aucun cas responsable des blessures subies au cours de ce match amical de basket-ball. Au nom de mon équipe, j’amerais présenter des excuses pour toute remarque désobligeante que l’équipe aurait pu formuler en plein match. </toggledisplay>

Serina - I’m here for you

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Don’t hide anything from the ship AI!
Monday, February 9, 2009

Lulu

Remember I am not the only one who scans open logs. I have amended the security of this entry for you.

I see things so differently now. This ship has become an extension of my own consciousness and it shares its secrets with me. You would not believe which couple I spied in a pelican cockpit last night and what they were up to.

I worry things will get worse before they get better. This place we are in is old, really, really old, and yet it is so far in advance of what we can achieve. I see no signs of the aliens who attacked us but something about this planet scares me. We are children seeing fire for the first time here and I fear we will burn ourselves.

If it makes you feel better Sandmoore may have had a little trouble with his hot water in the shower this morning. Not that I had anything to do with it.

As a first mission this trip sucks.

Be strong.

S </toggledisplay>

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VF)]"> Ne cache rien à l’IA du vaisseau !
Lundi 9 février 2009

Lulu

Souviens-toi que je ne suis pas la seule à scanner les logs ouverts. J’ai modifié la sécurité de cette entrée pour toi.

Je vois les choses différemment à présent. Ce vaisseau est devenu une extension de ma conscience et il partage ses secrets avec moi. Tu ne croiras pas qui j’ai vu dans le cockpit d'un pélican la nuit dernière et ce qu’ils faisaient.

Je crains que les choses n’empirent avant de s’améliorer. L’endroit où nous nous trouvons est vieux - une vraie antiquité - et pourtant il est tellement plus avancé que tout ce que nous pouvons bâtir. Je ne vois aucun signe des extraterrestres qui nous ont attaqués mais il y a quelque chose chez cette planète qui m'effraie. Nous sommes des enfants qui voient le feu pour la première fois et j’ai peur que nous nous brûlions.

Si ça peut te redonner le moral, Sandmoore risque d’avoir un léger soucis d’eau chaude sous la douche ce matin. Je n’ai bien sûr rien à voir avec cette situation.

Pour une première mission, ce voyage est nul.

Sois fort.

S </toggledisplay>

Civilian Emergency Instructions - Arcadia: State of Emergency!

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> What to do when your planet is invaded..
Sunday, February 22, 2009

This document supersedes the previous CEI instruction pamphlet [GLYPH 4790] and contains new information regarding emergency management execution.

For the duration of the crisis the UNCOM civilian statute is suspended as detailed in Security Council resolution 2532-767ER. The Council has mandated that UNSC Command, both local to your area and systemwide has authority to manage the crisis.

EMERGENCY PROCEDURES

LOCAL EMERGENCY SIGNAL. If a local emergency is declared you will hear a long continuous siren. The sirens will broadcast from local broadcasts, military and civilian security centers and other venues. At that time you should proceed as quickly as possible to your designated shelter and await further instructions.

DIRECT EMERGENCY SIGNAL. In cases of a more direct emergency when time is more critical you will hear three short bursts which will repeat at 30 second intervals. At this time you should proceed to the closest public shelter. If you are at home you may be able to improvise some last minute shelter (see document GLYPH 4893 for suggestions). If you are outside and unable to get to a shelter you should find the lowest lying area around you and lie down.

Do not use the local communication system to make calls once either of these emergencies have been declared. In general these systems will switch to emergency service use only. Tune directly to any local news channel and listen for instructions. Purchase a PAPER pad and pen to write directions down since local power may become unavailable and EMP devices may render portable notepads useless.

You may have to stay at your location for an indeterminate amount of time. Anything from a day to a week. Public shelters are stocked with supplies and drinking water and private citizens should keep at least one weeks worth of supplies on hand at all times.

IN CASE OF INJURY. An attack by alien weaponry will lead to many injuries and deaths. Hospitals and doctors may not be available to tend to the wounded and the types of wounds and you may have to treat injured citizens at the shelter. Do not go outside the shelter to seek aid. Radiation fallout from enemy bombardment, fires and other hazards will endanger you and those in your shelter. Heavily radiated rainfall, radiated ash, and toxic gas clouds are typical within the first 24 hours of an enemy attack.

IN CASE OF DEATH. All public shelters have a supply of sealable body bags. If there are casualties in your shelter you should put the body into one of these bags and seal it. If possible attach identification to the body before placing it in the bag. If you are in the shelter for longer than 36 hours place any body bags directly outside the shelter or in the shelter airlock as quickly as possible.

Evacuation instructions will be broadcast as quickly as possible following an attack. You should know within 24 hours when your shelter or location will be evacuated to safety. Before any evacuation from the shelter check the local surroundings for enemy activity. If you see a non-human stay in the shelter. There is no agreement with the alien enemy for evacuating non-combatants. </toggledisplay>

4:03am - Paul

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Before...
Monday, February 23, 2009

Contact has been lost to the outlying colony world “Harvest” and early reports seemed to indicate some sort of contact with an al…

THIS NEWS REPORT CENSURED BY THE UNSC FOR YOUR PROTECTION AND SECURITY.

4:03am. The general quarters alarm rings throughout the Spirit of Fire. Cutter comes over the horn, “Senior staff briefing in 15 mikes.”

The interesting part of being with the press on a UNSC military vessel is that no one tells you anything. The news is being blacked out, general quarters are ringing in my ears and lots of stressed young faces are running about the corridors.

The really interesting part is when the captain calls you 5 minutes later and invites you to the senior staff briefing. Now you know you things are screwed.

I’m writing this now while we’re in slipspace on the way to Harvest. An unknown and hitherto unseen alien ship entered orbit there 10 days ago and contact with the colony was lost. The two scout vessels we sent to check things out have not been heard from since they jumped there 2 days ago.

The captain has asked me to recount the events from an impartial point of view, first contact with an alien species and all that, got to do it right. I can tell from watching the crew that they are worried as we’ve no idea what to expect when we jump in and the manual on first contact isn’t exactly something you go practice. The prevailing scuttlebutt theory is that the alien ship, or ships, is somehow interfering with communications. I think that’s mostly the prevailing scuttlebutt theory because no one wants to think of the other options.

I think the crew is even happy that we have a squad of Spartans onboard. Mostly they just hope to god those guys stay in the sleep tubes but this time they actually seem happy to see them awake.

Carol. I know when we get to Harvest you’ll be fine, the kids will be riveted to the tube watching cartoons while the most important moment in mankind’s history happens on their doorstep. I miss you and the kids terribly. This email should autosend when we exit slipspace but it may take a while with all the military stuff going on.

Its retro movie night tonight and some joker picked Starship Troopers 3. The special effects back then were so awful, at least when it’s Shakespeare or Shatner there’s a story to follow.

Paul. </toggledisplay>

Cyclops Canon - Cyclops

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Tests....
Monday, February 23, 2009

After the Mark 1s were found to be impossible to control they were decommissioned with the majority of them being thrown into the titanium mines on Reach. Dr. Halsey went on to start Project ORION which led to the Spartan Mjolnir armor development program in 2491. This came under the Naval Special Warfare division.

Bitten by the failure of the first program, and suspicious of ONI, the Marine Corp under the UNSC Marine Special Operations division started their own power suit research division. Their other research program, ODST, was looking shaky and they needed a form of shock deployment troop to fight the continuing rebel uprisings throughout the outer colonies and sometimes in harsh environments such as the Eridanus Asteroid Belt where Robert Watts was holed up after the rebels fled to the asteroid belt following Operation TREBUCHET in 2513.

These power suits, often called “coffins” by those who had to wear them, initially did well in field tests, but severe power problems, issues with the propulsion systems, and the success of the ODST program led to them being mothballed. Most of the power suits were assigned to support vessels were they were deployed alongside the base pods to construct the buildings once they were on the ground. The power problem was eventually solved, directly as a side effect of Project ORION, and the suits were updated, but the deployment of Spartan III soldiers in 2536 took them out of operation completely and they were mostly scrapped alongside the Mark 1s on Reach. </toggledisplay>

Evan’s World - Harvest

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> 2526 continues.. Kind of parallel universe version here, but I loved the story of Paul and Carol.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009

10:55am

UNSC news has been blacked out. To tell you the truth we’re all a little overwhelmed, a “state” a reporter is never meant to get into. No matter how hard I try my hands are still shaking as I try to absorb the scale of what has happened here.

When we got to Harvest we quickly saw that these aliens were not a peaceful race. We received an account of logs from the planetary AI as soon as we exited slipspace although they were somewhat corrupted and incoherent.

Harvest is…. was… a beautiful planet. We would sit out at night and watch the Tiara twinkle (my daughter’s word) as the cargo passed through and the boosters engaged. Some nights when all the strands were busy lifting you could clearly get to see the whole circle flush against the sky like a hollow moon.

Now all of that is gone. There is nothing left to look at, the planet has been decimated and every square inch of field, city, home has been incinerated at such a high temperature that the surface of the planet glistens like glass when viewed from space.

Word is that there are some survivors, a fraction of a fraction of the population. We’ve yet to find them though and I don’t know if you and the kids made it. I pray to god that you are alive and that we will soon find each other again.

Cutter is sending a force down to the surface to see what we can learn. The aliens have a large excavation site near the northern pole and we want to see what was so damn important that the whole planet had to be killed to get it.

Who are these aliens? Did we settle on their property? Could Harvest have been their holy land or something? Why did they do this? Why not negotiate? I always thought when we finally met aliens that they would be better than us, instead we have found something worse than ourselves.

Carol. Send me a sign.

Paul. </toggledisplay>

Sal - Poker Game

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Sal can’t play anymore, but we still leave a seat open for him...
Monday, March 2, 2009

There’s a poker game on tonight in the mess hall. It’s about the only time we all get to relax these days and there is usually a good turnout. We always leave a seat open for Sal because he organized the game for so many years and was a real bastard about it. We all miss him but we all know he’s not coming back.

We’re en route to Arcadia, which totally sucks because that means no rotation. No rotation means we’re all stuck on this ship for the time being. All stuck on this ship means more ghosts sitting in seats. No one wants to be a ghost. No one wants to look at someone who might be a ghost tomorrow.

We’re looking for alien activity in the neighborhood. We can’t match their big ships but command would sure like an up close and personal look at some of their smaller stuff. The Herald and Pompadour are accompanying us and Cutter has been in conference with them all day.

It’s weird. The first time this ship was at Arcadia it was to help build the colony, the last time we were there it was to help in a policing operation suppressing a student riot and now we’re going to be there to protect those same civilians from some god awful ugly aliens. The irony of protecting the kids that were throwing Molotov cocktails at us a couple of years ago is not lost and not forgotten.

Sometimes all we have is the damn poker game. Sal would say that he didn’t trust a man until he’d played a game of poker with him. Sal had real trust issues.

Yeah, I miss that son of a bitch. </toggledisplay>

Engineer Racing - Prescott

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Meet Engineer Andrew Prescott
Thursday, March 5, 2009

Andrew Prescott loved to tinker but sometimes even he knew that his tinkering got a little out of control. Take this very instant he thought, trying to beat the Martian land speed record with an untested and underfunded engine design and actually getting into the car himself instead of letting the AI monitor the test. No, he had to feel the engine, improve it based on the way it vibrated, sounded, and talked to him. Possibly kill himself.

Prescott sat in the cockpit and looked down at the ignition switch, checked the kill circuit one last time and looked down the flats. The gravity was lower than Earth standard, but the bigger problem was always the thin air which made rocket propulsion a less desirable option even after the terraforming project. But a pulse detonation engine was made to operate in environments like this. Just not on the ground. That and the word detonation tended to scare people off.

Prescott watched as two D77-TC Pelicans roared overhead and landed near the control desk. Two troops, MPs Prescott thought, walked down the ramp toward Charlie Peters, his ground chief. After a short conversation Charlie looked over and pointed his way. The MPs started walking over.

Prescott wasn’t about to wait around to see what was going on. He hit the ignition and was 4 clicks away before Charlie realized he was gone and got on the comm.

“Andy, what on God’s green earth are you doing?”

Prescott wasn’t sure if Charlie realized they were on Mars or not. “Can’t talk right now Charlie. Little busy.”

“Those military types were asking for you. You do something you want to tell me about? Did you steal something for the prototype?”

Prescott was too busy vibrating to answer, he clenched his jaw and swallowed his gum as the prototype impressively boomed past the sound barrier. A Prandtl-Glauert singularity formed around the vehicle with what little humidity Mars had and it kicked up a lot more dust than Prescott thought it would.

“Well, they took off after you in those ships of theirs. You just hit 1K by the way.”

The vibrations were now so bad that Prescott wasn’t able to focus, obviously the dust had kicked a stabilizer loose. Just two more seconds he thought, then the kill switch.. Just two more seconds.

Charlie was getting excited. “1K point 5! You’re on your way!”

The prototype tipped forward over itself, the front folding down while the engine pushed the back on for a few more milliseconds. For a second it looked almost graceful, but then the front stabilizer wheel base hit the ground, shattered and thousands of pieces flew out ahead of the inevitable fireball.

Prescott watched from the escape pod, which had jetted out right before the vehicle tipped. He looked down at the carnage below and listened for a second to Charlie anxiously trying to see if he was alive still.

“Charlie, I’m still here. Podded out ahead of the crash.”

Charlie was mad. “Well thank God you’re alive Andy because now I can kill you myself. You any concept of how much money we just blew up?”

Prescott answered dryly. “Nope. None at all. You?”

Charlie started to laugh. “Nope, not really.”

Prescott’s chute landed roughly and he sat still a second, closing his eyes. Zero miles per hour felt pretty good he thought.

“Prescott. Andrew James Prescott?” A voice boomed out. It was one of the MPs, their Pelican had landed near his chute while the second was orbiting the crash debris.

Prescott opened his eyes. “What can I do for the UNSC today son?”

“Sir. As per UNSC military code article 24 you are hearby reactivated and required to report for duty forthwith.”

Prescott smiled. “Forthwith huh? I wondered how long it would be. Where to son?”

“Fort Marshall sir for transportation to Spirit of Fire. We are to accompany you to the fort sir.”

Prescott looked over at the Pelican. “Son. Tell Cole or whoever thought so kindly of me to bring be back that I’ll be there at 0600 MST tomorrow. If you hadn’t noticed I just crashed a very expensive car and my friend Charlie and I have a lot of beer to drink between now and then.”

The MP looked confused. “Sir?”

“You go check. In fact, you can check while you give me a ride back to my basecamp.” </toggledisplay>

Anders Lab - Serina and Anders talk

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Cut....
Friday, March 13, 2009

INT. SPIRIT OF FIRE - ANDERS LAB
Serina and Anders have a funny relationship. Serina wants to be human and Anders wants to be an AI, so their is envy on both sides. This conversation takes place before we arrive at Harvest.

</toggledisplay>

Spirit of Fire - The Mystery of “Spirit of Fire”

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Did it ever make it home?
Saturday, March 14, 2009

On April 21st 2531 the Spirit of Fire was orbiting Arcadia. The official record states that it abruptly left orbit and has never been heard from again. But, three months ago the ship was declared lost with all hands, and to many people, the mystery is far from solved.

The memorial service the UNSC held for the crew was not attended by the wife and daughter of the Captain and they have fought to keep him listed as MIA. The father of the civilian scientist posted to Spirit of Fire insists that a cover up regarding the fate of the Spirit of Fire has hidden the true fate of the ship from the population and that a full public inquiry be held.

The official inquiry report is classified, and efforts to declassify even summary excerpts from the document have been rebuked at the highest level. And while many theories have been suggested as to the fate of the ship, only three of them seem plausible.

Many feel the ship left on a covert operation and was lost in battle. Spirit of Fire was a support vessel, and as such poorly equipped for battle. It has been suggested that such a low profile ship is well suited to covert operations exactly because it has such a low profile Theorists back the covert nature of the Spirit’s mission up with the odd crew reports transmitted after the ships mission to Harvest and the amount of encrypted data transmitted by the ship following that same mission when it entered Arcadia orbit. While we can only guess at the nature of the encrypted data, the records show the ship transmitted roughly ten times the normal amount of traffic while orbiting Arcadia.

Another theory is that the ship never actually left Arcadia and was destroyed in orbit by the enemy destroyer that had previously taken part in the battle that ended with the loss of the ‘Belfast” and “Texas”. This theory is generally discounted because the ship was listed as missing before being officially designated as lost, but experts counter this by pointing out the mass confusion near Arcadia following the attack there.

A third theory, heavily discounted by the families of those onboard Spirit of Fire is that the ship purposely went off the grid and has joined with the rebel independent movement. When confronted with the theory the wife of Captain Cutter, Mary Cutter, assaulted the reporter and had to be physically restrained. The crew reports from Harvest also show no sign of discontent or malice towards UNCOM command.

One final theory, posed by the father of Professor Ellen Anders, the civilian scientist aboard Spirit of Fire, is that the ship is unable to get home or somehow disabled. He claims to have talked to sources inside the Office of Naval Intelligence that a huge upset in the Covenant war plans happened some weeks after Spirit of Fire went missing and that intel reports inside ONI have suggested that the Spirit of Fire may be responsible. While wishful, most discount this theory as too fantastic to have any truth.

The only truth we have in the whole matter is the open frequency transmission the ships AI, “Serina” made in Arcadia orbit. “Don’t wait up.” Experts say that spurious AI transmissions are often fragments of conversations between AI entities that take place across weeks, even months and that they are common and this transmission proves nothing.

This reporter, along with the families and friends of the crew onboard Spirit of Fire, feels the truth is yet to be heard regarding the fate of the ship , and I know for a fact that most still wait up at night awaiting word on their loved ones. </toggledisplay>

Flight Over Tigard - Relic

<toggledisplay hidetext=[Masquer] showtext="[Afficher (VO)]"> Harvest was once a colony world...
Saturday, March 21, 2009

I insisted that I go down and see for myself. The captain was pretty insistent that this wasn’t a good idea, but I think he realizes that I need this and that he needs someone else other than UNSC to talk about this insanity.

We flew in low over what remains of Tigard. It was raining dark mud like rain and lightning filled the clouds but never really formed any streaks or strikes. Fires still littered the ground, breaking through from under the surface to flare up. I thought it would be quiet but it wasn’t. It was as if a thousand windows were being broken, the wind formed shrill almost animal like sounds, and the rolling thunder shook me. No one down there could have survived. There was no safe LZ in Tigard so only visual passes like this one have been made.

The only activity I saw was further to the north, a UNSC command base, obviously dropped in from orbit, was beginning to unfold. I had seen these dropped constructs before on the news feed but never seen one unfold in front of me. The scale seemed somehow off to me as I watched it power up and the polycrete walls popped into place.

We landed next to the artifact the aliens had been digging up and I walked up to the thing that probably caused the death of my wife and kids. The thing that caused the deaths of millions of people here on harvest. The thing the UNSC was now so damn interested in too. I hit it with all my strength, fell over, got up and hit it again. By the time they restrained me I had broken several bones in my fist, but at least that thing had some blood spilled on it. Human blood.

I was pulled away and back into the pelican. Forge sat next to me obviously intending to make sure I didn’t get back out. He only said one thing to me. “I’d have done the same. Doesn’t bring them back though.” </toggledisplay>