Halo: Reach: Noble Edition
Finally, after playing through this and 4 on both Heroic and Legendary, after being asked to do so by some of my readers from Halo: The Installation, I'm ready to get started on another Halo novelization: Halo: Reach.
Let's be honest, Halo has always been a fantastic game, whatever the game. I probably enjoyed this campaign the most out of all of them, and 4's multiplayer the most out of them, and then we have the Master Chief collection, which is perfect from my point of view since I rarely play matchmaking. Halo: Reach was the last Halo made by Bungie, and they sent themselves out with a bang.
As always, feel free to give me advice, point out mistakes – especially when it comes to military tactics and procedure – and enjoy the fic.
One final note: I haven't personalized Noble Six in this. I find it easy to find fault in a Noble Six, and while I'll give him some personality through inner monologue, I'll stick to the backstory and publicized info that Bungie posted.
Is there anything else?
No?
Good. Let's begin.
The planet was on fire.
It wasn't screaming, it was too late for that. The glowing wounds the enemy had rent in it had snuffed out its life and scarred it all over.
Such extensive wounds were rare; channels of fire and molten rock covered the continents, and anything on the surface would have been lucky to survive. Anything underground might have been luckier, but chances wouldn't have been good.
A massive mountain had been blasted in two by the enemy's glassing, not by the wrecked frigate that lay nearby. The glassing had scorched the plain below of all life, all evidence it had existed, save a single helmet with a hole in the visor.
H
Deep in thought as he bounced along in the passenger seat of a Warthog, SPARTAN-B312 stared into the bronze visor of the Mk V[B] helmet, and then he turned it around and looked into the depths of the helmet, before rising it to his face and pulling it on.
Like the rest of his MJOLNIR Mk V armour, the helmet was a flat grey, perfectly suited for basic camouflage in urban warfare. Lord knows B312 had seen enough of it.
He realized that he wasn't referring to himself by his name anymore, but he shrugged it off. That didn't matter at the moment, only the mission did. Besides, he might end up with a new call sign soon.
Looking up, out of the Warthog's windshield, SPARTAN-B312 beheld the surface of Reach, and the UNSC outpost that was up ahead. Nothing fancy; it could easily be moved within half a day or less if the need arose.
He looked up over his head and he spotted two UH-144 Falcons flying in above the Warthog, heading for the same camp that he was. Text scrolled across the lower right corner of his HUD: July 24, 2552, 07:28 Hours.
Both Falcons landed in the camp, and the Warthog pulled to a stop next to one of them. B312 stood up, bracing on the side of the Warthog, and he hopped out of the LRV, walking towards a small, transportable building.
His enhanced hearing picked up the radio transmission that was coming in from the building, and he listened carefully, but made sure to keep walking and pay attention to his surroundings.
"Contact with Visegrád Relay was lost last night," a gruff voice explained over the radio. "All signals flatlined at twenty-six hundred hours."
As B312 walked, he could see a bald, olive-armoured Spartan sitting by the passenger cabin of one of the Falcons, sliding sniper rounds one by one into a magazine.
Jun-A266, B312 thought. Noble 3. Sniper. Obviously. Chatty. Rock solid under pressure, and suffered from PTSD, but he never relapsed after therapy.
He'd read up on the files of Noble Team before coming to Reach, assigned to the six-Spartan-strong after one of the six had been KIA. It was a radical change from his previous history, where he'd worked alone as a private assassin, mainly targeting militia groups.
He picked up another shred of the radio conversation coming from the building. "I responded with trooper fire teams, which have since been declared MIA."
"And now you're sending us," a deep voice said from inside the trailer.
"The Office of Naval Intelligence believes deployment of a Spartan team is a gross misallocation of valuable resources," the voice said, and B312 realized that it must be Noble Actual, Colonel Holland. "I disagree," he said in a tone that made it quite clear where he thought ONI could stick their beliefs.
B312 reached the door, and he stared at a grey-armoured Spartan in EVA armour, who was sharpening a dangerous-looking kukri against his shoulder pauldron, and had obviously used it to carve a skull into his visor.
Emile-A239, B312 thought to himself. Noble 4. Brutal fighter. Close-combat specialist, but not as sociable with anyone that isn't on the team.
He saw Emile staring at him, so B312 stopped his assessment and he attempted to enter, but he was cut off by a thin mechanical arm, its owner walking out from behind the door; a woman in turquoise armour with a brown crew cut. "Commander," she called.
Catherine-B320, B312 thought. Noble 2. A Beta Company pullout, like me. Tech specialist, lacks situational awareness, which explains why she's only got the one arm.
He saw the other two members of Noble Team turn to look at him; a blue-armoured tanned fellow, and a truly impressively massive Spartan in olive and yellow armour. Not a Spartan-III like the rest of them, this guy was a Spartan-II, and a big one at that.
"So that's our new number six," the Spartan-II said in a deep gravelly Reach accent.
That's right, B312 thought. Jorge-052 is a Reach native. Noble 5, heavy weapons specialist. Rock solid, but very vocal. He stepped forward, looking at the commander. Carter-A259 stood in front of a holographic computer screen that confirmed B312's suspicions that they were currently in contact with Colonel Holland.
"Kat, you read his file?" Emile asked from behind him.
Carrying her helmet under her arm, Kat replied, "Only the parts that weren't covered in black ink."
Carter didn't pay the comments any heed, or B312 any comments, and he turned back to the computer screen. "Anyone claim responsibility, sir?" he asked Holland.
"ONI thinks it might be the local insurrection," Holland replied. "Five months ago, they pulled a similar job on Harmony. Hit a relay to take out our eyes and ears, then stole two freighters from dry-dock," he explained. "That cannot happen here. Reach is too damn important. I want that relay back online, Noble One."
Carter nodded. "Sir. Consider it done," he said.
"Then I'll see you on the other side," Holland replied before signing off. "Holland out."
Jorge and Emile stood up, and they both started walking out, Emile waiting behind for Jorge. Carter grabbed his helmet from the table and turned to face B312. "Lieutenant," he said.
"Commander. Sir," B312 replied as Jorge and Emile started moving out. Kat joined them by the door.
"I'm Carter, Noble Team's leader," Carter said before pointing at Kat. He knew that they'd likely been read up on, but it never hurt to give introductions, so he gestured at Kat. "That's Kat, Noble Two, Emile and Jorge, Four and Five. You're riding with me, Noble Six."
Noble Six, B312 thought. Guess that's me from now on.
The newly-signed Noble Six walked out of the building next to Carter, who was donning his own helmet, while Kat, Emile, who was sheathing his kukri, and Jorge had already put theirs on, and they were walking side by side in front of them, towards the Falcons.
"I'm not gonna lie to you, Lieutenant," Carter warned Noble Six. "You're stepping into some shoes the rest of the squad would rather leave unfilled."
The Spartans quickly reached the Falcons, and the other three moved to the other one, and Noble Six and Carter got into the one where Jun was already waiting.
"Me, I'm just happy to have Noble back up to full strength," Carter said as he boarded the Falcon. "Just one thing," he added, sitting down opposite Jun. "I've seen your file. Even the parts the ONI censors didn't want me to. I'm glad to have your skill set, but we're a team. That lone wolf stuff stays behind. Clear?"
As Noble Six sat down beside Jun, Carter signaled for the other Falcon to get airborne.
"Got it, sir," Six replied.
With that icebreaker out of the way, the olive-armoured sniper was a lot friendlier. "Welcome to Reach," he said.
The Falcons took off and started moving towards the mountain range in the distance.
I have a confession to make – I'd written most of this chapter earlier, but the damn files got corrupted and I lost both this and the next chapter – which was also mostly done. So that rankled me a fair bit.
Also, I'll admit that this ripped off another novelization – well, if you could call only a single chapter another novelization, which unfortunately, looks to be a deadfic, and it's a damn shame too, since it was easily the best one out there.
Also, one final ground rule, please don't mention The Fall of Reach. I get tired hearing people complain about it. I'm dead serious, too.
Sanokal