Well here goes. I don't own Halo, Microsoft does. Sorted. Got the idea for this a while ago and finally decided to put pen to paper so to speak. By the way, this is FOR FUN. So if any burners out there want to have a go at me for this like they already have with my other stuff then I don't care but I do think you need to get a life and write some of your own work before you rip mine to shreds.
The Last Battle
The Invasion
This was it, he thought to himself. The top Brass had finally made the decision, though to be honest, deep inside him he had to agree there were few other options. This War had seen the loss of too many heroes, this prolonged War of attrition.
'Three years…' He mumbled to himself. His train of thought started again, it had been three years since the War should have ended, the Prophets all dead, the Covenant broken, the Elites had gone home and the Halo crisis had been resolved by Commander-in-chief John 117. Ironic, he mused, ironic that it takes saving the Galaxy and your own life to be moved up the ranks.
He dragged himself to a standing position groggily and moved towards the Bathroom…or corner as he called it. Titan Class Battleships may have been an awe-inspiring sight, but it had living quarters that were not to be envied. But living conditions weren't too important when the ship you were on had to tangle with delivering two thousand soldiers to a battlefield. He stepped up to the mirror in his 'corner'. Private First Class Jack Durham looked back. A mess of brown hair perched on his head, and a now seemingly empty, even he had to admit, blue eyes which had once been full of life. But that was a long time ago.
How had he ended up here? Jack had asked himself so often recently that he knew his own response off by heart. The War should have ended, it should have stopped. But it didn't. The Brutes, those damned monsters…they didn't know when to stop, nothing was controlling them now, again and again they attacked, and the endless skirmishes were just prolonging the bloodshed. Command had talked, argued and deliberated for months, all the while more lives were lost. But finally a decision had been made, a decision that would either stop the endless fighting, or destroy ourselves. The choice had been made and plans were set. The UNSC would invade the Brute home world. The planned invasion would be the largest military operation in the history of our Planet. Brash decision or not, the entire military body had been committed to the operation. Over four million combat personnel would touch down on the rock the Brutes called home. The Fleet, the whole Fleet had been called together…the whole Fleet would be needed if there was any hope of even beginning this Invasion.
Jack sighed; he was one, one in over four million. One soldier, one stat on a computer, chalking up casualties, losses and the wounded there were guaranteed to be. He wondered how many other men and women were following the same chain of thought as him.
Suddenly a siren blared in the corridor outside his quarters. Hurried footsteps clattered past his door as all along the corridor outside other Marines, other men and women just like him ran to the hangars to join their units. Well…maybe not all of them were like him, Jack was an ODST. He, and many others, had the good fortune of paving the way for the rest of the Invasion. He walked over to the wall by the door and lifted his armour from the wall; he fixed it over his standard-issue bodysuit, then reached up for his helmet from a shelf above him. He pulled it down over his head and fixed it onto the neck of his armour. Stepping back from the shelf Jack checked the armour was airtight and made sure the oxygen tanks worked. Satisfied Jack walked to the door, slinging his battle rifle over his shoulder as he did, and set off for the drop pods.