Introduction: I started writing this not long after finishing Halo: Reach again recently, and I tossed around several ideas in my head. I didn't want to have Six replace Jorge during the destruction of the Long Night of Solace. It's been done several times with both Six and Jorge. Not necessarily a bad thing, but I wanted to do something a little different. I even thought of writing up what it was like being shackled to ONI. Then this came to me.

Now, I'm not gonna promise update schedules, because I can never stick to them, but I hope I can write this story through from start to finish. It's something I've enjoyed writing through the chapters I've made so far, and while they're not exactly long right now, hopefully they can grow a bit more as we go on. I hope you readers enjoy the story, and please don't hesitate to leave reviews of your thoughts. I'd love to hear what you think, even if you're a guest, but be warned I can't respond directly to guests. I'm gonna try not to leave author's notes cluttering up the intro to chapters. Finally, if Noble Six being a thing isn't enough of a tell, they'll be replacing the Master Chief as the main character, and the events of Halo 2, while followed, will be thrown up and mangled and not a word for word redo of the game's plot.

Last off, I'd like to recommend another piece of work to you all before we get into the story. There's a smattering of just amazing stories on the site, but something that I've read, and something I drew a little from, is the story "All the Stars", by BlueWay. They draw both the Rookie and Noble Six into the Mass Effect universe, and the individual chapters are long enough to be stories all on their own. Please, by all means, should you enjoy my story at all, or even if you don't and you're just curious, go throw in with BlueWay and drop them a line.

Now, finally, on to the story. Thank you for giving my story a shot!


Spartan-B312, Noble Six, was not meant to leave her bones on the glasslands of Reach. She will be forced to fill the footsteps of a man a generation past, remolded to survive in a war she was made to die in, a spirit burning too bright to fall as Reach went dark. In honor of this, her unending journey, we honor her as the eternal flame of Noble. A novelization of Halo 2.


Silence fell around the skeletal remains of the Aszod Shipbreaking Yards as the final shot echoed off of the cliffs and gutted hulls of UNSC ships, and whatever the Covenant had lost during the Battle of Aszod. A field marshall, armor and body cratered by jacketed rounds, fell silent as one of the final invading casualties of the Fall of Reach.

Staring down at the ornate field commander, a single Spartan remained. Morgan-B312, Noble Six, let the assault rifle fall from her fingers, having been run dry. The sound of the weapon embedding itself in the dirt was the final nail in the coffin of hostilities on the Eposz continent. Even now, Covenant orbital assets were carving burning glyphs in the planet, purging the 'heresy' from Humanity's fortress amongst the stars and the foundries for the hated Demons.

Noble Six pressed her chin against a pressure sensor on the inside of her helmet. The Mark V armor responded, despite the damage that it had taken over the past month. Formerly sky blue plating was now pitted in areas, some sections of the armor having melted from the heat of plasma burns, and was now a mismatch of dust colored blue and bare titanium.

Displays came up inside of the gold colored visor. NOBLE Team's members showed in list format with ranks, service numbers, and current status. Last reports showed each armor signature had flatlined. Kat and Jorge showed a faded flat line, and were both listed as MIA. Carter and Emile both showed a brighter, but just as flat line, still well within transceiver range. With a few more gentle movements of her chin, Six moved their designations to MIA, despite having seen both Emile and Carter breathe their last. Finally, Jun's status was the sole lining in this whole disaster, a faded green line that had registered some of his last vitals.

With a final thought, Six made the final change to NOBLE's roster. Noble Six listed herself as MIA, despite the obvious green lifesigns that would flutter every so often. Running on close to no sleep and having not eaten in several days, even a Spartan would show signs of faltering.

Unfortunately for what may well have been the last Spartan, or even Human on Reach, things wouldn't change any time soon, and Morgan wasn't about to make the trip that Jorge had told her about before disappearing in a bubble of Slipspace over the planet.

With nothing left to do, Six started walking. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd get glassed and it'd be quick. It didn't take much thought to know that she'd starve otherwise.


Aszod was still smoking, the shipbreaking yards having become home to a few Covenant ships as well as whatever the UNSC had been breaking apart before Reach had fallen. Six poked through some of the wreckage, hoping something could be salvaged from this whole mess. There was no way she was piloting a capital ship out of here. All of those had been broken apart, and she couldn't fly it alone.

The stench of burnt ozone hung in the air, hours after the Pillar of Autumn had lifted off and bugged out. With a passing thought, Six realized that it was entirely possible the Autumn had been shot down on her way out, meaning everything had been for nothing.

With a displeased grunt inside of the Mark V helmet, Six backed out of the wrecked Phantom. It wouldn't be seeing the sky again, too much damage had been done.

Another sat not far off, buried half underneath the bones of the partially dismantled UNSC Circumference. It couldn't hurt to check, and it wasn't leaking black smoke like most of the others had been.

The steel walkways that made up most of the shipyard were no longer the clean steel they had been when the shipbreaking yards had been in operation. Now, they were coated in a layer of tan dust and the blood of aliens and Humans alike, with rivers of red, purple, and blue washing away some of the dust and grime.

Six ducked into the troop bay of the Phantom, hanging open and stopped at the maximum angle they could shift. An Elite lay dead in the troop bay, neck at an awkward angle, the lumps under the scaly skin showing it's neck had been broken.

With little more than the observing glance, Six went for the cockpit, Emile's shotgun cradled in her gauntlets. Bringing the stock to her shoulder, she pushed into the cockpit and scanned for anything still alive. Nothing moved, only the corpse of another Elite hunched forward, lifeless from the impact evidenced by the purple splatter that had dried on the viewport glass.

Satisfied, Six replaced the shotgun on her back, giving a silent word of thanks to Emile for having kept far too many shotgun shells for the weapon he used more like an artist than a soldier. Then again, most Spartans could be considered artists, their weapons the paintbrush that would paint masterpieces. Six snorted and slid the bulky pump action back onto the mag plates on her back.

Tapping some of the controls, Six felt relief course through her as the console lit up on the right side of the cockpit. She couldn't read Covenant at all, but she remembered some of the symbols from the training she had undergone on Onyx, and that would have to do.

Taking a seat at the console that wasn't occupied by the Elite whose egg had gotten scrambled, she attempted to get somewhat comfortable in a seat that was built for a physiology far different from her own. The hunched seat, while swallowing her in some sort of memory gel, did little to help her relax, and eventually she gave up entirely.

The Phantom's engines whined loudly in protest. The smooth wind up and powered sounds were gone, replaced instead by a shrill roar that made Six think the Phantom was a liability waiting to crash and strand her if she tried to fly it, but the Spartan had little other options and most Phantoms on the ground had been put there against their wills. Six would have to take her chances. At least this was another option for a quick death if everything went south.

With a few hesitant control inputs, the Phantom began an ascent, the pattern a gradual rise for the first few minutes, before the engines whined ever louder and a loud roar filled the cockpit. The sound startled the blue armored Spartan, but immediately after, the whine of the engines quieted to what could have been described as a low wail, more like a Banshee than a Phantom. Still, with Six's nerves being frazzled by the second, she only had one more obstacle to pass through.

The absolutely massive Covenant fleet still in orbit over Reach was swimming through space like a school of hungry sharks, the bulbous appearance of Covenant ship design making it look as if they were all swarming around the few whale-like super carriers and assault carriers.

The console began to change and shift, a symbol on the console lighting up and flashing with a soft pinging noise accompanying it. Six debated on pressing the holographic symbol, but decided not to. Swiping it to the right, she hoped it would get rid of the icon. As soon as she did though, there was another alert. Nearby ships were turning, and even at the long range she was at, she could see a flight of Seraphs suddenly turn and start burning towards her.

The lurch of the Phantom as she tried to push more power into the engines without overloading them matched the drop in her gut as she realized that had probably been a hail. Now, with cover blown, Six started to wrack her brain in an attempt at remembering some of the symbols, until finally, it came to her. Hesitantly, she swiped a few icons, moving slowly and deliberately as she walked through the steps in her mind, and arrived at the glyph for the slipspace drive.

Pressing an armored finger to the symbol, the Phantom began to whine once more, the pitch rising as the seconds ticked by and the distance between her Phantom and the encroaching Covenant went down. Even at this range, she could see plasma bolts leaving the forward cannons on the Seraphs, and even a Phantom Gunboat had vectored towards her, with heavier armament and far more shielding and armor than a Seraph. If she didn't make it out of this, she was done.

With a nervous glance out either side of the Phantom's viewport, she saw the shots growing closer, the front most bolts winking out as the strength on their magnetic containment fields failed and the plasma dissipated. Even still, with repeated bursts, the fire was growing closer, and as the whine reached an ever high pitch, she felt the Phantom rumble beneath her boots.

Warnings started to blare in the small cockpit as Six closed her eyes and waited to join the rest of the Spartan IIIs that had been thrown to the Reaper, and she had no doubt NOBLE was waiting for her.

A lurch went through the ship and she thought it was all over, but forcing her eyes open once more as she knocked on that door at the end of the trip that all the others had taken, she saw the bright portal open up, and the stars ceased to exist as the Phantom leaped into slipspace.

With a sigh that had come far too soon, Six's luck ran dry, and an explosion formed in the Phantom's bay, before sparks started to bite and claw at her armor in the cockpit. Another explosion sounded and the concussive force launched Six from the seat, throwing her into the wall and leaving a hefty dent in it as her shields flared gold and shattered.

The force alone nearly made the Spartan black out, her overtaxed body unable to keep up with all these newfound stresses. Laying on the floor, the blue armored Spartan struggled against the darkness for a few moments longer, before her willpower stopped being enough to stave off unconsciousness.

With the Phantom still pushing through Slipspace, an unknown amount of failures traveling through the dropship like an infection, Noble Six closed her eyes and waited for the end of her fight. The Phantom's engine noise and drive core ceased, replaced by the chiming of bells from a long distant memory.