Cpt. John Harvey

"That time is like a dream I've awoken from..."

2008-02-29T13:49:18Z

It'd been overwhelming when it came back. Good job no-one'd been around; they'd noticed the change, though. Mutters of 'doesn't he look better now we're home?'
This was better. He was real. He was more than his own shadow.
...But damn if he wasn't going to miss those powers, he thought sadly. If only he'd had the chance to use them in action... The Covenant wanted a demon? They'd have gotten one.

No time to think about that, though.
The recruits had been transferred safely, they were back on Earth's surface by now - he could tell just how happy they were easily. The youngest had barely stopped themselves from running off into the distance. He wouldn't have disciplined them if they had. They deserved it.

If only he'd had a chance like that, just to stretch his legs... a bit of one, so far, but not so much. Business to get down to - first discussing the problems they'd had with the Covenant intercepting their journey, identifying the security issues, and later? There was a ceremony on the cards. Medals for those who'd made it back from the - what was it? A ringworld? Good old Avery Johnson, Miranda Keyes on her father's behalf (he'd met her in the past, met him on business - it'd be good to talk again afterwards). And the MCPO and his team.
Damn good thing he was back to normal.
He'd never been so proud of them.

neverthechief @ 2008-02-22T10:21:00

2008-02-22T12:09:09Z

Real space again; real stars in the distance. And on the centre of the viewscreen, Earth. The final run in, now.

He imagined he could almost feel hopeful. It wasn't hard to see how many of the bridge crew actually did. Unprofessional laughs and cheers sounded from all around; hell, right now, he wasn't going to stop them, sharing in the smiles. Not like morale hadn't been somewhere in the pits recently.

If only the recruits could see it, too, he thought. They'd have loved it. First time to the planet for a lot of them, he was sure.

The communications link opened. A moment's pause, long enough to stop himself mixing his words and names up, then-

"Cairo Station. This is Captain John Harvey of the Waiting Fortune." Another pause. "We're home."

Personal file:

2008-02-18T16:36:15Z

Turnaround was uneventful - they don't know about us. We're finally on our way back to Earth. First time I've been there in some time, really. (Is it? Have I ever been there? I'm still not sure how this works.) It'll be good to be back. I know the trainees are getting very restless.

Received word from the MCPO and his unit. They've found something interesting. Looks like the Covenant had their reasons for being out there... some kind of ancient alien artifact.
They're doing their job, though; that's all I can ask from them. They'll take care of it.

I can't seem to sleep, right now; it's like some self-preservation instinct. Sleeping's too close to letting myself fade all the way. It doesn't matter - I don't seem to need it so much. Don't seem to need anything except to want to survive.
(Though I think people are going to be suspicious if I leave the coffee alone.)

Personal log:

2008-02-14T15:31:39Z

Aware this state's only temporary. Should record what I can of it while this is the case.

Adapting to my abilities; these should prove useful in combat situations. Uncertain why those - allies I've gained won't come when I'm here, but everything else seems to be in place. Haven't been able to thoroughly test them while here, as it could be too dangerous.
Almost like I could glass a planet.

Still can't put a name to what's happened, what made me. This - sensation of being split in two, having something fundamental taken away. Like I'm balancing on the edge of something. A 'heart' - that seems to fit. But what does that make me?
I'm sure I should be angry about not knowing.

Think I might just start putting my coat over my uniform when no-one's looking who can report it.

Awkward to refer to myself as 'John'. Remember finding it hard to stop using that name alone. Not sure whose the memories are, though.

Scheduled to drop out of Slipstream shortly. Should go prepare. Everything seems to be in order, but got to finish things off.

Nobody's Hero

2008-02-12T09:21:01Z

"Sir? Is there a problem? You seem a little... stressed out."

He'd done his best to hide the outward signs. Hair cropped that bit more closely to conceal the slight colour shift darker, and he'd just have to hope no-one'd check his eyes too closely. The coat was, of course, neatly folded and tidied away - Captain Harvey didn't need it, not his uniform after all, but Verhayx couldn't help but identify with it. Almost like he felt too exposed without it. Almost a feeling.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." Lying. More like nothing at all. It would have felt awkward, he thought, but that was an irrelevant question now. It wouldn't be forever, surely, it would come back, they would come back, whatever it was that he could sense there misplaced would return... "No progress on the security analysis?"
"None, sir."
"Keep me informed. I'll be in my ready room."
He heard a mutter of 'someone stole his coffee?' as he headed in there. Didn't matter. Let them think what they wanted, as long as they didn't guess the truth. Not that he knew exactly what the truth was, anyway - just the certainty that he wasn't who he had been.

Mistral's hologram popped up as soon as he settled into the seat before the display.
"Personal search. Off the record." Usually, he'd be politer, but not today.
The little AI's code display scrolled faster, and he gave a nod.
"Access mythological databases and psychological databases. Search records for references to 'soul'." He paused, having a brief hunch. "Or, discounting anatomical references, 'heart'."
"Records retrieved. ...I'm not sure what you're trying here, Captain. These don't seem to be relevant to the mission."
"It doesn't matter what I'm 'trying'. These are things I need to know."

((For anyone who knows both, Verhayx =/= Xefich by a long way. No Covenant influence, as with the latter's world's Organization.
Powers: Sun/stars as 'element of influence' - comes out as supercharged energy fields, heat, light (though not the pure/holy/good kind), even some radiation but that's Damn Hard. Standard portal ability. Retains usual Spartan speed and strength increase.
Weapon: Light-rifle; looks like an Organization-styled Halo 3 AR, fires energy-pulse bullets or a constant laser-like stream.
Controls: Trooper Nobodies, vague resemblance to ODSTs if you squint hard enough; however, he can't call on them from directly in his world for various reasons. Wouldn't half spook the Marines, anyway...
He *can* technically access all abilities from within armour rather than in Nobody gear, but it requires a bit more care as to not damage the suit's systems.))

neverthechief @ 2008-01-19T23:56:00

2008-01-20T00:06:36Z

Things had gone wrong the second they'd dropped out of Slipspace. Rendezvous with another ship before making a change of direction, that'd been the plan.
The only ships they'd seen had been Covenant.

How they'd managed to escape in one piece, no-one was quite sure; but they'd made it. Mistral had set a random course away from Earth for them - losing time, but it was better to lose time than anything else the ship had to spare. Cole Protocol. Couldn't go back on that, no matter what. The Covenant'd be all too happy to take out a ship full of 'Demon-spawn'.

The way the battle'd gone, though, had been enough to quell the 'planetbound pen-pusher' talk. It'd done nothing about the 'Spartan weirdo' business, actually swaying some who had been undecided in the direction of realising what he was - but he'd heard at least one crew member say that he'd had his mind changed for the better. He'd earned his status in the eyes of the crew, now.
He might have still been a freak to some, but at least he was *theirs*, and that was what mattered.

neverthechief @ 2007-12-22T20:11:00

2007-12-22T21:10:57Z

A step through a door on the lower decks sealed to anyone without the appropriate authorization, and he wasn't just "Captain Harvey" but "John-117".
This was Spartan territory, down here. The cargo holds had been modified to provide ersatz quarters for the younger trainees, the older ones and the qualified troops getting more conventional ones. Still fairly closely packed, though. Quite aside from the space issue, he knew none of them would be happy on their own.

A pounding noise sounded; footsteps. He stepped aside as a stream of trainees ran along, a breathless cadence in the air led by their trainer. ...Clean lyrics, though. The kids'd learn other versions soon enough.
The irony of keeping the language clean at the same time that they were being taught to fight and kill didn't even occur to John for a second. After all, he'd been brought up the same way. Couldn't be wrong, now, could it?

One of the trainers stopped the group as they approached him, the childish strains of "Everywhere we go, people want to know..." drawing to a halt. Couldn't fault the kids on protocol, there. Though he doubted he'd mind the impromptu pause in the run in their place, either.
A little conversation. Yes, they were on target for the first re-entry and turnaround manouevre; yes, it'd be good to hear from the recon party at Threshold, no doubt the chief'd be doing just fine; lovely work from the youngsters, there, never heard them in action before...

The singing picked up again as the trainees pulled away.
"We like it here, we love it here, it's a home away from home..."

neverthechief @ 2007-12-08T19:56:00

2007-12-08T21:24:04Z

Slipspace travel. Harvey'd never liked it - he couldn't help but wonder at the irony of being put in the captain's chair, someone who'd never had the right experience on the bridge before and who'd never been interested in the role. Damn, he missed having an actual planet beneath his feet.
Then again, experienced naval officers were thin on the ground, these days. They needed everyone they could get. Even if his crew didn't seem too happy about it. He'd heard complaints coming from all directions. It was easy to look over the 'planetbound pen-pusher, doesn't deserve a command' talk - it almost made him laugh, sometimes. They had no idea. It was the ones who knew, or thought they did, that were the problems.
He'd worked it out, though. Spread enough rumours, let them roll away, and no-one'd know which was the truth. Even if enough people thought it was suspicious that he'd come into their midst the same time their enhanced passengers had, it was hardly the only explanation, was it? And what was open in his records gave a nice rationalised form of the events that could have led him to the place he was. He'd shown the files to anyone who asked with a measured reluctance. Just enough to let them think he didn't want them to see, the story so anticlimactic compared to the versions that had swept the ship. And some of them were probably closer to the truth.

There was at least one person that he could speak to about the issue, though. He rested his arms on his ready room's desk and looked over at the tiny holographic terminal there.
"Crew status report, Mistral?" he asked apparently thin air.
In a flicker of light, a little figure popped up. A knight, his shield covered in code-patterns and his armour bearing a geometric design. "Operating at optimal efficiency for this point in transit."
"And the passengers?"
"They appear a little - I believe the word is agitated. The youngest especially."
"It's understandable. I'll visit them today."

neverthechief @ 2007-11-24T00:06:00

2007-11-24T00:06:51Z

Evacuation. Every Spartan on the face of Fort York - off it, away to Earth. The Covenant were too close for comfort.
Not just the recruits, all three hundred of them - seven-year-old children, the youngest, up to Juliet Company who only needed the tweaks and armour. Those members of the force currently not on active deployment, too - the better to defend against any incursions. Not to mention the support staff and the many, many departments that altogether comprised the program. The UNSC's best kept secret and its greatest publicised achievement in one. And keeping the Covenant off their tails at the same time, getting them to Earth without it being seen as the next target...
It'd be a lot of work, to say the least.

So they were giving him the resources he needed, in the form of a cruiser, and a crew that didn't mind having someone everyone knew was 'one of them' despite official denial somewhere in control. At least, that was what they were saying.

"I think this is overdue. Congratulations, Captain."
"...Thank you."

Whiskey, tango...

2007-11-11T00:35:48Z

Nine hundred and seventy-five recruits had entered the Spartan program since its rebirth, seventy-five every two years. Four hundred and fifty of them had become soldiers, had worn the armour, had been the best. Too many of them were just names on the hidden memorial, now - but there were enough still standing. Harvey'd made a point of learning all their names, though sometimes, it was impossible to match that to a face even with enhanced memory.

Seeing SPARTAN-F012 standing in front of him, though, he suddenly became very aware that there were some he shouldn't have forgotten. Foxtrot Company, taken aboard in '37 - they'd done well, for back there. Forty-nine had made it.
There were differences, of course. He quickly scanned over his personal file. Purple heart for the plasma grenade that'd shattered F012's visor courtesy of an Elite, requiring serious medical attention; he'd gotten his eyesight back close to as good as ever after cloning one anew, but the network of scars on the left side of his face was still impressive. Aptitude for infiltrations work. A solid service record.

Good soldier, Foxtrot-12.

It'd just never occurred to him.

Personal file:

2007-11-09T08:52:49Z

Looks like potential trouble. (Then again, what's new?)

Beginning evac of recruits. I'm not going to let them live through what I did before they're ready.

Also sending a unit to Threshold. Hoping I'm not sending them on a suicide mission.

Personal log JH.0117.01/18082552

2007-10-17T18:48:22Z

* Attempting to gather information on sector of space known to host Cov. troop buildup. Unexceptional system at focus, hardly surveyed except from distance; largest world is gas giant Threshold. Uninhabited. Wonder what's got them interested?

* Strike force at that point could do a lot of damage, but is it worth it? Largely in-orbit, ships a risk.

* MCPO A045 seems to be taking the promotion well.

* Odd feeling about this.

neverthechief @ 2007-05-17T22:34:00

2007-05-17T22:17:42Z

"Permission to ask..."
"Go ahead."
"Is - something wrong, sir?"
"Nothing a coffee won't fix. Thank you for your concern." That was the excuse, anyway, as he sat down and attempted to make a start on the day's work. He couldn't let it slip that it'd probably take far more than caffeine to do the job. Once the younger soldier left, Harvey slumped forward, head dropping into his hands.

A lifetime on the battlefield left its share of scars on psyche and body alike. But why had they come up like that? Why was it sticking with him so hard this time?
His first mission in armour, and the first death he'd seen on the battlefield. Not just Sam, though. Looking away and back at the Spartan about to perish, he'd seen so many faces, so many young men and women he'd trained, each of whom had fallen despite all their best efforts. Some calling for help - some blaming him for what had happened. As it went on, he could see every injury, everything, even worse than he'd known it to be.
He'd awoken to a cold chill, just about managing to call out to switch the lights on. He should've been able to cope, dammit, after all this time.

Memories

2007-05-10T23:30:57Z

The memorial was somewhere no-one except the Spartans ever went. Officially, it didn't exist. Officially, the room that housed it was registered as storage, although the lock on the door that never opened for a normal soldier denied that. A strange thing to classify.

Inside, a holographic flame burned. Technically, it lit every time the door was opened, but no-one ever saw it do so. It rested on a plaque bearing a simple inscription, the ancient epitaph to the fallen at Thermopylae.
A wall bore carefully painted writing. Ranks, names, numbers and dates.
The earliest dated back to 2525.
With a precise hand, though not an artist's, other names were slowly accumulating, the script changing subtly with time. Every Spartan who had ever died in battle, their passing lost in ONI's records and conspiracies. Their brothers and sisters who had been lost before they had ever entered combat, too.

John stepped back away from adding Adrian-E147, 2552 to the list and bowed his head.

Personal log JH.0117.01/06052552

2007-05-06T12:30:19Z

Received word from Echo Company. Heavy losses in a small unit; shouldn't have happened. Still does. Shouldn't get me after all this time; part of conflict. Just every time - I feel like I broke a promise to them. I feel responsible, even though there was nothing any of us could have done. Bad intel. Damn it.
I swore there'd never be another Reach, and this is what happened. Never been hit this badly since then.

Indigo are doing well. Still makes me smile to think that they all made it - they'll survive, they're good kids, Alicia's a good trainer. Took us long enough to have a unit where they all did. Hoping to meet Juliet before they go through.

When did I get nostalgic?