Halo_ Ghosts of Onyx - Eric S. Nylund [22]
"You were briefed on the flight?"
"Completely," Mendez said. As he looked Kurt over in his MjOLNIR armor, emotions played over his face; awe, approval, and resolve. "We'll get these new recruits trained, sir."
This was precisely the response Kurt had hoped for. Mendez was a legend among the Spartans. He had tricked, trapped, and tortured them as children. They all hated, and then learned to admire the man. He had taught them how to fight—and how to win.
"Do they let Spartans drink now?" Mendez asked.
"Chief?"
"A bad joke, sir. We might both need one before this day is over," he said. "The new trainees are, well, sir, a little wild. I don't know if either of us is ready for this."
Mendez turned to the Pelicans, inhaled, and yelled, "Recruits, fallout!"
Kids streamed off dropship ramps. Hundreds tromped onto the field, screaming, and throwing clumps of sod at one another. After being cooped up for hours, they went wild. A few, however, milled near the ships, dark circles under their eyes, and they huddled tighter. Adult handlers herded them onto the grass.
"You've read Lord of the Flies, sir?" Mendez muttered.
"I have," Kurt replied. "But your analogy will not hold. These children will have guidance. They will have disciphne. And they have one thing no ordinary children have, not even the SPARTAN-II candidates. Motivation."
Kurt linked to the camp's PA. He cleared his throat and the sound rumbled over the field like thunder.
Nearly five hundred crazed children stopped in their tracks, fell silent, and turned amazed at the giant in the shining emerald armor
"Attention, recruits," Kurt said and stood akimbo. "1 am Lieutenant Ambrose. You have all endured great hardships to be here. 1 know each of you has lost your loved ones on Jericho VII, Harvest, and Biko. The Covenant has made orphans of you all."
Every kid stared at him, some with tears now gleaming in their eyes, others with pure burning hatred.
"1 am going to give you a chance to learn how to fight, a chance to become the best soldiers the UNSC has ever produced, a chance to destroy the Covenant. I am giving you a chance to be like me: a Spartan."
The kids crowded before him, close… but none actually dared to touch the shimmering pale green armor.
"We cannot accept everyone, though," Kurt continued. "There are five hundred of you. We have three hundred training slots. So tonight. Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez"—he nodded to
the Chief—"has devised a way to separate those who truly want this opportunity from those who do not."
Kurt handed him a tablet reader. "Chief?"
To his credit Mendez registered shock for only a split second. He scanned the tablet, frowned, but nodded.
"Yes, sir," he whispered.
Mendez yelled at the children, "You want to be Spartans? Then get back on those ships."
They stood shocked, staring at him.
"No? I guess we found a few washouts. You." He pointed to one child at random. "You. And you."
The chosen kids looked at each other, at the ground, and then shook their heads.
"No?" Mendez said. "Then get on those Pelicans."
They did so, and so did the others, a slow shuffling procession.
"Drill instructors," Mendez said.
Three dozen NCOs snapped to attention.
"You will find Falcon Wing aerial descent units on the field. Load them ASAP and make sure your trainees are properly fit-led. Their safe deployment is now your responsibility."
The DIs nodded and ran toward the bundled Falcon Wing backpacks.
The Chief turned back to Kurt. "You're going to make them drop?" He raised both eyebrows in surprise. "At night?"
"The Falcons are the safest drop units," Kurt replied.
"With respect, sir, some of them are only four years old."
"Motivation, Chief. If they can do this, they'll be ready for what we have to put them through." Kurt watched the Pelicans fire their jets and scorch the grass. "But just in case," he added, "deploy all dropships to recover the candidates. There may be accidents."
Mendez exhaled deeply. "Yes, sir" He started for the nearest Pelican.
"Chief," Kurt