Matt-038 (Halo Fanfiction)

Chapter 26: Crystal

Author's Note: If you have any tips writing tips, please feel free to comment.

Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

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Chapter 26: Crystal

Location: Epsilon Eridani system, planet Reach, UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B

August 29, 2552

0700 hours

The firing range was uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, the air would be filled with noise—the sharp, staccato crackle of automatic-weapons fire; the urgent yells of soldiers practicing combat operations; and the bark, curse-laden orders of drill instructors. Matt frowned as he guided the Warthog to the security checkpoint.

The silence on the combat range was somehow unsettling.

Even more unsettling were the extra security personnel; today, there were three times the normal number of MPs patrolling the gate.

Matt parked the Warthog and was approached by a trio of MPs. "State your business here, sir," the lead MP demanded.

Without a word, Matt handed over his papers—orders direct from the top brass. The MP visibly stiffened. "Sir, my apologies. Dr. Halsey and the others are waiting for you at the P and R area."

The guard saluted and waved the gate open.

On survey maps, the combat training range was listed as "UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B." The soldiers who trained there had a different name for it—"Painland." Matt knew the facility well; a great deal of the Spartans' early training had taken place there.

The range was divided into three areas: a live-fire obstacle course; a target practice range; and the P&R—"Prep and Recovery" area—which more often than not doubled as an emergency first-aid station.

Matt had spent plenty of time in the aid station during his training.

Matt walked briskly to the prefabricated structure. Another pair of MPs, MA5B assault rifles at the ready, double-checked his credentials before they admitted him to the building.

"Ah, here at last," said an unfamiliar voice. "Let's go, son, on the double, if you please."

Matt paused; the speaker was an older man, at least in his sixties, in the coveralls and lab coat of a ship's doctor. No rank insignia, though, Matt thought with a twinge of concern. For a moment, the image of his fellow Spartans—very young, clubbing, kicking, and beating un-uniformed instructors into unconsciousness flashed into his memory with crystal clarity.

"Who are you, sir?" he asked, his voice cautious.

"I'm a Captain in the UNSC Navy, son," the man said with a thin-lipped smile, "and I've no time for spit and polish today. Let's go."

A Captain—and new orders. Good. "Yes, sir."

The Captain in the lab coat escorted him into the P&R's medical bay. "Undress, please," the man said.

Matt quickly disrobed, then stacked his neatly folded uniform on a nearby gurney. The Captain stepped behind him and began to swab Matt's neck and the back of his head with a foul-smelling liquid. The liquid felt ice-cold on his skin.

A moment later, Dr. Halsey entered. "This will just take a moment, Commander. We're going to upgrade a few components in your standard-issue neural interface. Lie back and remain still, please."