My name is Alec-1308. I was born on Earth, raised on Reach, and I've been a professional soldier since birth. I'm a Spartan.
Before I was conceived, my parents made the conscious choice to have their reproductive systems altered, consequently altering the DNA of any future children they may have. That child was me. I was born physically superior to any human being ever. When I turned six, I bid my loving parents goodbye and went to what would become my home: Reach.
Years ago Reach was decimated by the Human-Covenant War. Now reterraformed, Reach is once again the gleaming planet it once was. Then it was the heart of the UNSC. Now, it is the home world for the most iconic species under jurisdiction of the United Species Space Command: the Spartans.
Once on Reach, I was trained ragged until I reached the standard age of twelve. Then came the augmentations I had been genetically bred to endure and survive. Two more years of training was all it took to get me to be considered a man in Spartan culture. I got my own Mk IX MJIOLLNR armor, and was given full control of my life. Like most Spartans, the quite life on Reach didn't suit me. So I enlisted alongside my old friend Carlos-1337.
That was years ago. Now after years of fighting Fanatics, Insurrectionists, losing Carlos, and saving my fellow Spartans from extinction during an attack on Reach by time lost Covenant fleet, I've got a new assignment. I've been assigned to the USS Master Chief for a "top priority mission". How hard could it be?
"Good to see you Sergeant Major," the human ODST greeted me. "Welcome to MC."
"Good to be here soldier," I told him with a nod. "I take it you'll be giving me the tour of this ship?"
"Yeah, I drew the shortest straw," the ODST joked. Or maybe he was telling the truth. "You're standing on the first Spartan-Class Cruiser ever built by the USSC by the way, and the first ship to combine technology form the Covenant and humans. She's a little old school now but, she's home."
The ODST showed me the hangar, stocked with a squadron of Gauntlet fighters and Katana bombers. Nowhere near the amount that would be found on a carrier, but enough to be useful in a pinch. Then came the gun decks, where I got a close look at the massive plasma turrets, pulse lasers, and even the ship's dual MAC guns. The bridge was next up, but first the ODST wanted to show me the quarters and "introduce me to the crew". I really hope he didn't intend on introducing me to every soldier and worker on this ship. That could be time consuming.
The door to the rec room—which was big enough to allow two Hunters to pass through at once—opened. I was expecting a few ODSTs, maybe another Spartan, an Elite perhaps. What I was not expecting was two Hunters to tumble in front of me, pounding each other with their massive shields and waving their fuel rod cannon arms like maniacs.
Years of training kicked in as I shouted, "Contact!" and grabbed the MAR5 attached to my back.
I was just about to fire when a voice shouted, "Hey hey hey! Watch it! Cool your guns Spartan!"
I looked to the source of the voice to see a Grunt, standing there proudly in standard issue USSC Grunt armor with arms raised, as if the gesture could magically stop the plasma rounds from firing form my gun. He must've caught me staring, because he asked, "What, you've never seen a Grunt before?"
"Not it's not that," I try to explain as I put away the MAR5.
"I swear your kind are all alike," the Grunt grumbled. "Shoot first, shoot later. Who cares about asking questions."
"What was that Ch'p?" a female voice asked.
The Grunt's eyes widened and he snapped to the most formal attention I'd ever seen on any being. "Nothing Sergeant Major ma'am!"
A woman, six foot two with dirty blonde hair that came down to just below her ears and wearing red MJOLLNIR IX armor minus the helmet, walked over, eyed the Grunt's salute, and nodded. "At ease."
The Grunt breathed a sigh of relief and slouched over in over-relaxation. The ODST who'd been serving as my guide snapped a salute, although his was nowhere near as rigid as the Grunt's had been. She nodded, and he returned to ease.
"Sir," the ODST said to me, "meet Sergeant Major April-2247"
"Glad to have another Spartan on board," she said, extending her hand for shaking. After a few seconds of me not shaking it, she puts it down.
"And this little bundle of fun," the ODST said, gesturing to the Grunt, "is Private Minor Ch'p."
He reached over and as a rather cruel—but amusing—prank, pinched shut one of the hoses on Ch'p's breathing harness. Ch'p made a strange choking noise and slapped away the ODST's hand, allowing him to breathe again.
"What did I say about doing that Owens?" Ch'p asked, practically fuming.
The ODST—Owens—laughed. "C'mon man, that was hilarious and you know –ow!"
The "ow" came about after Ch'p gave the ODST a powerful kick to the shins. He hopped up and down on his good leg, cursing the diminutive Private.
"Ouch! That hurt you stubby little bastard!" Owens cursed.
"And don't you forget it," the Grunt warned.
The female Spartan sighed. "I swear you two will never grow up." She gestured to the two Hunters still rough housing in the middle of the room. "The two tanks with feet are…well no one but Ch'p can understand their names, so we just call them the Hammer Brothers."
"Cute," I muse, watching the two continue to rough house in the center of the room. "Do they always do that?"
"Only on days that end in y," Ch'p joked. Again, he could have been telling the truth too.
"And you would be?" April asked.
"Sergeant Minor Alec-1308," I introduce, "at your service ma'am."
"Well, like I said, it's good to have another Spartan onboard," she repeated. She turned to Owens, who was going back and forth with the Grunt about something to trivial for me to remember. "Owens, get moving. The Captain is expecting our good Sergeant on the bridge."
Owens broke off his argument with Ch'p and gave a quick salute. "Understood ma'am. C'mon sir, there's some officers who'd like to meet you."
It was a short trip to the bridge, and soon I found myself, along with Private Owens, entering the control center of the USS Master Chief. Busy giving out orders and instructions was a human male roughly in his fifties and dressed in and officer's uniform.
"Lieutenant Chaplan, triple check those engine stabilizers, we don't need a repeat of our last op's 'little mishap'," the man said.
"Yes sir!" came the orderly response.
"Lieutenant Jek, are we cleared for takeoff yet?" the man asked.
A Skirmisher leaned back in his seat and responded curtly, "For the third time, no, we have not been cleared for takeoff. When and if we are, I will let you know, sir."
"Glad to hear it," the officer replied with sarcasm. "I see you managed to hold onto your personality during your shore leave."
"Screw you boss," the Skirmisher said causally. The officer merely cursed under his breath.
"Out of all the nav officers in the USSC, I got stuck with you," he grumbled.
The mouthy nav officer grunted in reply and returned to his work…or virtual solitaire. I couldn't tell from my current angle.
"Sir, the new Spartan is here sir," Owens reported.
The man finally turned to and noticed us. I snapped into a ridged salute that put most marines of all species to shame. "At ease," the officer said, and I relaxed as much as any Spartan ever did while on duty.
"Welcome to the Master Chief," the officer greeted. "I'm Captain John Cole, commanding officer onboard. Have you been informed of our mission yet, or did SIA feed you code words and black ink?"
"I'm here to serve on the Master Chief for the duration of a top priority mission," I said, quoting the SIA spook to the letter. "Care to fill in the blanks."
The Captain nodded. "Have you ever heard of the Legend of Master Chief?"
"It was my bedtime story on Reach," I reminisced. "A lone Spartan who rose above the near extinction of his kind and destroyed two alien super weapons, eradicated the Flood, and ended the war. He died in the destruction of the Ark."
I remember hearing that story as a kid on Reach with my adoptive mother curled up next to me in the tent, the orange glow of the campfire outside making her look like an angel, even in her MJIOLLNR VIII armor. Those were the days.
Captain Cole nodded. "Master Chief was a good soldier. More than that, he was the galaxy's, not just humanity's, savior. But when he died, he left his most important business unfinished. Master Chief destroyed one Halo and the Installation that makes them. But there are six halos left in the galaxy that can still wipe out countless people of all races. The halos pose a very real threat. Like its namesake, the Master Chief has been tasked with the complete destruction of the Halo Array."
"We're supposed to accomplish all that with this one vessel?" I asked in disbelief.
"Most of USSC command thinks it's a waste of time to send valuable resources on a large scale torch and burn op. Those who were in favor of counter Halo operations were only able to secure an old Spartan-class cruiser, an unprofessional bridge crew, and a few ODST and marine units for the cause," the Captain explained.
"Nevertheless, it's important work we're doing here son. Your quarters have already been prepped."
"Understood sir," I said, and began to walk away along with Owens. But the Captain added one last statement as I left.
"It's good to have you here soldier," he said.
"It's an honor to be here," I replied, and exited the bridge.
Well, what did you think? If you'll kindly notice, the commanding officer of the ship is a reference to not one, but two famous halo figures. He's what we call a "descendant". It's been awhile since Halo 3 obviously, as Spartans have developed their own culture and society on their "home planet" of Reach.
Tell me what you think, because if you don't I'll assume this story is a fail and never update it ever again.