Spartan One 020

Over the next few days spent in slipspace, Orion worked on his reflexes, downloaded some of that Himalayan meditation mumbo jumbo to get his mind in the zone to practice his psychic abilities, and relentlessly drilled the soldiers onboard regarding the dangers of the Xenomorphs. 

Although it was a relatively short journey, there was some small progress. For one, he could now wiggle small objects with his mind, barely qualifying as a telekinetic, and his empath abilities were much more well rounded. Orion could get a general grasp of someone's emotions, and could sense life up to at least a mile away, or further if he focused. At least, he could sense just about anyone except Johnson, who was something of a blank in his perception. 

Other than that, Orion was currently in the Madcap's onboard gym. 

Sprinting like a madman, his new one mile record had been beaten once again, reaching a time of 1:50. In comparison, Master Chief-without armor-could finish a mile in about 1:45. Ever since he started training after the Klendauthu Drop, he had had small incremental gains that went against science. 

The Spartan I program was immature compared to the Spartan II program, and in many ways, it was a miracle Orion was even alive, or didn't have cancer. That being said, his previous record was 2:10, a whole twenty seconds slower than where he was at now. This wasn't the only remarkable change either. The amount he could squat, bench, lift, etc had all radically changed. Meanwhile, his other brothers & sisters in the squad were still around the same level as they had always been. Only Johnson of all people seemed to have shown some improvement. 

Orion especially noticed that the number of weights he could lift was directly correlated with his emotional state. Ordinarily, men could lift more in the gym when worked up, this was a normal result of testosterone & adrenaline. But after many workout sessions-especially those that took place after honing his esp-he had noticed the discrepancy. 

It turned out he might not be a psychic who excelled at telekinesis, but was likely a natural at body modification. 

That mile he ran? Yeah, he wasn't winded at all. He could sprint at that speed for 10 miles before feeling some fatigue. It was honestly nuts how much of a human engine he had become. 

Then when it came to testing his reflexes at the simulated range, he was incredibly agile. Nimble, quick, swift, all these words described his actions. It appeared that as his level increased, the more intune with the universe he became. And considering he'd have to face countless alien fucks in the future, Orion wasn't complaining. 

Running along on a treadmill, sweat glistening down his muscular form, Orion was wearing an elevation training mask, perfectly conforming to Harper's orders whilst also enhancing his gains. His feet pounded upon the rapidly moving rotary belt light as a rabbit. 

As a so-called genius of psychic body modification, Orion wasn't solely interested in raw power. Due to his special forces nature, he was just as-if not more-interested in stealth capabilities. And practicing a ‘soft step’ was of great interest to him. These days, when he wasn't eating, studying declassified war reports due to his newest clearance, or training his esp, he could be found working out in the gym. 

Most of his squad tried to keep up with him, but only Johnson & the Sergeant had that dog in them that made them come to compete again and again. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted the two at loggerheads, attempting to out lift one another in a heated, mostly good natured competition. 

“Come on ya sissy, is 620lbs all ya can do? Move, move!!!” Johnson roared at himself as he pushed himself to the limit. 

Twin pairs of muscular black biceps quivered with power & exposed veins as they went to work. Struggling for a while, the young Private eventually went through his rep set, and dropped the weights into place. Sweating, and gasping for breath, Johnson wore a shit eating grin, then patted the sweat stained bench. “Your turn, Sarge.” 

Before their bullheaded competition could continue, yellow klaxons flashed in the room. 

[Warning. Real space transition imminent. Warning. Slipspace egress in FIVE MINUTES.] 

Hopping off the treadmill, Orion found a nearby handrail, and braced himself. 

“Goddamn, is it time to kill those Xenomorphs already?” Johnson whistled, arms quivering as he braced himself nearby. 

“The Lieutenant warned you time and again not to underestimate them, Private. Do I need to have you read the report again before the final debrief.” Sarge clapped back. 

“Heh, you're just bald & hard headed, Sarge. Jealous you can't beat these.” Johnson teased, kissing one of his biceps. 

The Sergeant rolled his eyes, then turned towards Orion. “So the plan's the same, sir? Overload the nuclear reactor, seize the data, and get out of dodge?” 

“That's right. I've been given operational authority for this mission, and those are our goals. And you, Johnson, don't be a hero or split from the group, those bastards love to prey on men who go solo.” Orion nodded at the Sergeant, then warned the young hot head.

Johnson rolled his eyes, and looked like he wanted to spit to the side, barely holding himself back as the Sergeant had written up a citation the last time he spat on the deck for ‘unsanitary conduct.’ Instead, he settled on a scowl. “Yes, sir.” 

“Hear that, Johnson, he's calling you a moron.” Sarge joked in a deadpan, serious tone of voice. 

“Hmph, I ate my veggies, took my vitamins, and passed the SAT with flying colors. You're looking at the youngest Spartan in the universe. Momma didn't raise no moron.” Johnson barked back. 

When Johnson finished speaking, the Madcap had achieved egress, and successfully exited out of slipspace. The Terran Federation warmachine plowed into real-space, shaking and shuddering along the way. Once the vibration passed, Orion let go of the handhold, and walked towards the showers. Unfortunately, there was no hot super scientist to share with, but as this was the Starship Troopers universe, it wasn't uncommon to spot attractive athletic women cleaning off inside. For those who had watched the movie, they would know what Orion was talking about~ He'd always remember how embarrassed his dad was at that scene when he had watched the movie as a boy. 

“Alright, enough horsing around, let's wash up, then gear up. We've got one final debrief including the crew of the Sulaco before ground fall.” Orion said to stop their bickering. 

Once he was done showering off, Orion led his team of spec ops to the Sulaco. For this mission, he would be going in with a small team focusing on search & destroy. Meanwhile, the Mobile Infantry would be tasked with holding the landing bay, and drawing the attention of the Hive Queen. Orion had already briefed Harper about any potential psychic shenanigans, and the Colonel had agreed to lead this defense force, once again earning some brownie points from Orion. 

Marching onto the unlucky space ship, he entered a debriefing room full of soldiers, and one very unhappy, unnerved Ellen Ripley. 

He recognized a few characters from the Aliens movie, such as the idiot Lieutenant Gorman, the sexy tomboy Vasquez, that gruff Sergeant Apone-practically the OG version of Johnson-and of course the guy who looked like Kyle Reese from the Terminator, Corporal Hicks. 

Twelve all blackclad Spartans filed in behind Orion, their ODST armor appearing slick compared to the basic fatigues the Colonial Marines wore. The sheen of their helmets, and enhanced heights cut an intimidating aura of threat & authority. For the first time since stepping into this world, Orion truly felt like the spec ops boogie man of ONI that he was molded to be. 

Upon his arrival, he sensed that most of the Marines recognized him. 

FedNet had made certain of that. His silhouette lifting a little girl from the ruins of Troy had appeared across half the colonies. So had carefully edited footage from the Brain Bug operation. The broadcasts had turned him into a recruiting symbol.

Hicks sat up straight, losing his casual slouch, and Vasquez eyed him with desire-not the sexual kind-but the desire of a woman who knows what she wants. The young badass also wanted to be a Spartan in her heart of hearts, not some jobber working for the Colonial Marines. 

Lieutenant Gorman stepped forward, holding out a limp wristed hand for a shake, that Orion merely glanced at, making the pale man lower his hand halfway. 

“All right, ahem, a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters. Uhm, I'm Lieutenant Gorman, and this is Ellen Ripley. She was the warrant officer aboard the commercial towing vessel Nostromo. Her ship encountered the organism believed to be responsible for the loss of contact with Hadley’s Hope.”

At that moment, a photograph of the colony appeared on a nearby display.

Ripley took a deep breath, and sternly nodded at him. Although there were strong feelings of distrust emanating from the young hero, she had a quiet resolve about her. Orion's arrival brought along some small modicum of hope, although it wasn't much. 

She looked over the Marines and seemed to recognize exactly what many of them were thinking. Another barren colony with a routine sweep that would be over before breakfast.

“Lieutenant.” Ripley nodded lightly, then turned to address the room. “I know you’ve all been told this could be a communications failure, but it isn't.” She said, her voice strong with conviction. 

“The creature we found was unlike anything I had ever seen. Its life cycle began with an egg. When someone approached it, a smaller organism emerged and attached itself to his face. We couldn’t remove it without killing him. Its blood was a molecular acid strong enough to eat through several decks of the ship.”

The tactical display changed, showing a rough reconstruction of the facehugger.

“It implanted something inside him, a few hours later, the organism emerged from his chest. It grew with incredible speed. By the time we understood what had happened, it was already large enough to kill the crew.”

“Just one?” A Marine asked bewildered. 

Ripley looked directly at him, and sternly nodded. “Just one. It hunted us through the ship, used the ventilation system, and avoided open spaces when it could. It…this Xenomorph was intelligent, much more intelligent than a lion or tiger. This thing knew how to operate doors, how to prey on Human compassion, our negligence. For every resident that once called Hadley's Hope home, there could now be an alien replacement.” Ripley grimly intoned. 

Gorman gestured toward the colony map. “Hadley’s Hope had a population of 158, are you implying…” 

Ripley slowly nodded, not needing to explain anymore. 

Orion silently stepped forward, his movements so light only Ripley-who was paranoid-noticed his approach. He stepped beside the Warrant Officer, and placed a data module into the briefing console.

The screen filled with images that had never appeared in any civilian report, including autopsy scans, scorched laboratory chambers, helmet recordings, and the skeletal outlines of several dark creatures. 

“Where did you get those?” A Marine asked. 

Orion did not look at him, but tapped the side of his head. “Need to know.” 

He then enlarged the image of an adult Xenomorph, barely showing the most grainy, low quality image of all time. It was practically a pixelated image no different from NSFW content, yet even so, captured the horror of what their futures entailed. 

“Ripley’s account was accurate. I’m going to clarify the parts her crew didn’t survive long enough to record. These organisms do not behave like animals defending territory. They operate as a coordinated hive. They communicate, establish defensive zones, probe enemy reactions, and alter their tactics when previous attacks fail. Do not mistake the absence of technology for a lack of intelligence.”

The display changed to a scan of the creature’s elongated skull.

“They possess no eyes that we’ve been able to identify, but they function perfectly in total darkness. Smoke will not blind them, and cutting the power will inconvenience us more than it inconveniences them. Thermal imaging is unreliable near the colony’s machinery, and motion trackers only tell you that something is already moving toward you, not whether it is above, or below.

As Ripley noted, their blood is acidic. To kill them, use short, controlled bursts only. Otherwise the spray will melt through your skin within seconds. Know what is behind your target before you fire. If one gets within arm’s reach, create distance. Do not wrestle it, and under no circumstances are you to assume that the Xenomorph is dead because it falls or is curled up like a spider sprayed with windex.”

Finally, the corporate liaison for Weyland-Yutani stood up from his seat. The ‘slick’ lawyer type pale-skinned man had an affable air about him, but his inner panic was clear as day to Orion. 

“These files represent an extraordinary scientific discovery. If there’s a chance of recovering-” Burke got out, before Orion interrupted him. 

“Request denied.” Orion stated in a heavy tone, an iron, murderous edge entering his voice. “There will be no live recovery, or egg samples. Anyone suspected of infection will be quarantined, and any Xenomorph biology smuggled aboard a Terran craft will see the perpetrator executed on the spot.” 

“This is a Weyland-Yutani installation, you can't just-” Burke tried again, but was suddenly silenced as the barrel of Orion's magnum pressed up against his forehead. 

“You are relieved.” Orion sharply said, then tapped into his comms to do something he had prepared long ago. “Captain Harper, revoke Civilian Burke's access & passwords for all Terran systems, he has become detrimental to mission success.” 

Seconds later, the order took effect, and a pair of naval MP's marched into the briefing room, dragging Burke towards the brig. 

Acting as if nothing had happened, Orion outlined his plan. 

“The operation will proceed in four phases. First, we land outside the primary colony perimeter and establish communications, making sure no random weather anomaly can cut us off. Second, we locate and recover survivors. Third, we retrieve the colony records, medical logs, security footage, and central computer core. Lastly, we will enter the atmosphere processor and set its fusion plant to overload on a timed detonation.”

Gorman glanced at him, barely containing his horror. “You intend to destroy the entire installation?”

Orion inclined his head, to which Vasquez gave a confident smile. “Now that sounds like a plan.”

Ripley ran a hand through her hair, and whispered to herself: “I hope he doesn't get us all killed.” 

Orion swept his gaze across the room, and saluted. 

“Dismissed.”