Okay… First time I've done this so it's a big thing for me. Anyway, welcome to the story; This Is Not Your Grave! I hope you enjoy, I've been itching to write a Halo fic for a while now. :) Toodles!
Planet Reach, Outer Orbit, Orbital Defence Platform 3, July 2nd, 1100 HRS.
B-312 looked out towards the planet where he was being stationed for the next god knows how long, and huffed out a sigh. While he knew that ONI command didn't mean for this to be a punishment publicly (he could read the inner workings of a straight up 'lie to their faces' act without even trying anymore), he couldn't help but feel it was that way.
Sent to a planet that the UNSC had an iron grip on, the Spartan III didn't see any reason for combat that he needed to be there. Resuming his gaze out towards the nebula surrounding Reach, his augmented hearing detected the sound of footsteps making their way towards his position on the starboard side of the ODP (Orbital Defence Platform).
"Lieutenant, Sir," a young male voice spoke. He turned towards him and acknowledged him with a simple grunt.
"Sir, you arrived here on your ship after the last cruiser departed for the surface, so you'll either have to pilot a Pelican down, wait here until the next cruiser arrives, or you can take an ODST pod down to your required coordinates."
Considering the options available to him for a moment, the Spartan decided swiftly. He was, at heart, a man of action and he wiped out the second option without another thought. And he had always liked the ODST way of arriving…
"I'll take an ODST pod, since I'm staying here for a while, might as well make a grand entrance."
"Yes sir, in that case please follow me to the drop pod wing then."
He stood silently and followed him without another word until they reached the room where B-312 was scheduled to make his drop onto Reach.
Satisfaction trickled throughout him when seeing there was no crowd gathered to give him orders, or ONI spooks with messages from the numerous divisions. That was slightly more the case, he admitted.
After climbing into the pod and receiving instructions on how to behave inside the pod, to which he rolled his eyes behind his blue tinted Operator helmet, the sound of klaxon sirens and a countdown blaring throughout his solo-man pod echoed into his helmet.
3… 2… 1…
BAM! Solar winds rushed past the rapidly descending drop pod, casting a yellow glow through the interior, and an unending roaring racketing inside. Soon he no longer could see the stars as a fiery glow lit blocked all the windows.
After entering Reach's atmosphere, the glow ceased, and he saw that the ODST pod was descending towards a small hill. In the distance he saw the UNSC outpost; nothing permanent, just a command centre and a few barracks and such.
Impact in 5… 4…
Ignoring the voice blaring throughout the pod, he watched the ground rush closer, and closer, until the thrusters engaged and slowed his descent to a loud THUMP.
Rising swiftly, he kicked the door open, and was unimpressed to see no transport awaiting him for the trip North-East to the UNSC outpost he had seen during his drop. Sighing softly, he engaged his sprint ability and started running in the general direction he needed to go.
20 minutes later he heard the sound of an engine growling, and tires skidding on slickened rock and damp dirt. The sound drew closer and closer, until a Warthog rounded the corner and pulled a sloppy handbrake spin stop next to him, coming dangerously close to drenching his armour in mud.
"Lieutenant B-312?" A male voice rang out from the driver's seat, considerably louder than those on the Orbital Defence Station, a fact that the Spartan liked considerably.
Nodding in response, he relaxed his legs and waited for the man's response, which wasn't long in coming.
"Corporal Van Petrickoz, Sir. I've been ordered to pick you up and bring you to Command Outpost C-6, Sir."
"Okay soldier, let's go then."
Climbing into the 3 tonne land assault vehicle, he heard the suspension groan just slightly, which told him that this warthog was either an old style, without the new strengthened supports, or had just carried way too many Spartan II's or III's. He decided on the former after catching sight of the squeaky clean gearbox and steering wheel, untainted by dirt or grease, and the brand: Warthog ATV Type IV Land Assault Vehicle. An older warthog, the newest commissioned ones were the Type VI's.
The drive was rather short, which showed that he had covered quite a distance on foot before being picked up. Hearing a low pitched rumbling, whining sound reach his augmented ears, he turned and caught sight of two Falcons thundering down the plain behind them.
Swiftly being overtaken by them and disappearing over the next slight ridge, they roared over it and were suddenly metres from the Command Outpost that he was required to go to.
The warthog pulled up abruptly and without a word, he stood and jumped off, sticking his DMR to his magnetized gun holder. Walking with a steady pace around a stationary Falcon, he caught sight of a bald Spartan III, who was loading ammo into a SRS99-AM Sniper Rifle, armour-piercing rounds, he noticed. They didn't come cheap.
Continuing to walk, he heard the sounds of a transceiver crackling and a voice talking.
"All contact with Viségrad Relay was lost last night. All contact flat-lined at 2300 HRS. I responded with trooper squad fire teams, which have since been declared, MIA."
"And now you're sending us."
A new voice, firm and strong, a Spartan he saw as he rounded the falcon and saw the building's entrance.
"ONI believes that deployment of a Spartan team is a gross misallocation of valuable resources… I disagree."
Of course ONI would believe that… he thought snidely. As he made to walk inside, a robotic arm stopped him from doing so.
"Commander," the owner of the cyborg arm was female, not too much of a surprise, since some of the best SPARTAN recruits were female.
"Kat, you read his file?" This from a male Spartan with a skull carved into the faceplate of his EVA helmet. B-312 took a liking to the guy already. He seemed to have a sadistic sense of humour, and that amused him for some reason.
"Only the parts that weren't covered in black ink." The female Spartan's voice started to play out a more Israeli accent, if his ears and knowledge were correct.
The guy who had spoken first; Commander, resumed his conversation with Colonel Holland.
"Do you have any idea who's responsible?"
"ONI thinks it may be the local insurrection. 15 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. That cannot happen here – Reach is too damn important… I want that relay back online Noble 1."
"Sir, consider it done." Commander or Noble 1 spoke, confirming the new mission to the Spartan's ears.
"Then I'll see you on the other side; Holland out."
With that, the Colonel cut off the channel and they were left listening to static. The Commander turned to B-312 and spoke.
"Lieutenant."
"Commander, Sir." B-312 returned without incident or hesitation.
"The name's Carter, or Noble 1, that's Kat, Noble 2, Emile and Jorge, 4 & 5."
B-312 nodded, as he associated the names with their images in his mind. Carter spoke again.
"You're riding with me Noble 6." Noble 6 gave a slight grunt as his only response, sliding into the new squad member role easily.
Carter continued, not taking 6's less than social answer as an insult.
"I'm not gonna lie to you Lieutenant, you're stepping into some shoes the rest of the team would rather leave unfilled. Me? I'm just happy to have Noble back up to full strength. Just one thing; I've seen your file; even the parts the ONI censors didn't want me too. But we're a team. That lone wolf stuff, stays behind, clear?"
While Noble 1 had been talking, they had walked out towards the two parked Falcons he had walked past only minutes earlier.
6 prepared to nod again, before realising that Carter was looking for a verbal response as confirmation.
"Got it, Sir." They sat down in the Falcons hold, and Carter gave a hand signal that was known military wide as 'let's go, or let's lift off.'
The bald sniper who had been sitting in the Falcon earlier turned to him and greeted him in a way.
"Welcome to Reach."
And done, I know the chapter was short, and most likely boring, but this was sort of just an intro I guess. Also, I'm not necessarily going to stick to cannon in everything. I will deviate at some points. Action and stuff will be in the next chapter, so be glad for that. :) This is just the 'Reach' arc of the story, and after I'm done with it, Master Chief will start appearing and have some sections of POV or entire chapters. Depends how I feel on it. Anyway, R&R!
Until the next one.
-One Final Stand
-SNEAK—PEEK-CHAPTER-TWO-
Viségrad Relay was a further distance than Six thought, some 200 miles that took a couple of hours or so by falcon. But now they were hovering above the station, not landing yet due to Kat talking to Carter urgently.
"We just lost all comms with command." Commander looked surprised for an instant before the Spartan inside him took control.
"Back-up channels?" He asked, as if already knowing what the answer would be.
"Searching… nada, can't say what's jamming us."
Jorge accessed the team comm channel and began speaking into it, "Sir, who would want to separate Reach from the rest of the colonies?"
"You get a chance maybe you can ask them Jorge." Noble 5 nodded, as if confirming that that was what he was going to do.
Six just lounged on his seat, eyes wandering over the surrounding forests. It was raining, not uncommon for Reach apparently, and it coated everything in a silvery, dewy covering.
As he continued looking randomly around, a glint suddenly flashed out of a sector of forest that was within half a click of the outer buildings of the relay station. Looking at it closely, he made out the shiny black surface of a military barrel, that attached to a…
Rocket Launcher.
An instant later, he yelled out; "Incoming!"
But the warning came too late. Twin streaks of fire blasted out of the barrel as two rockets blasted up into the sky, towards the circling Falcons.
The Falcon pilot that was carrying Kat, Jorge and Emile was skilled enough to evade the oncoming anti-air missile, and did so, but Six's pilot reacted half a second too late, and the rocket smashed into the right engine with a sickening crash, and the shrieking and tearing of rending metal.
An explosion boomed, and black smoke and sparks belched from the engine, causing a power loss and rapid, crazily spinning descention from the bird.
Six locked his armour, and not a minute too soon as he was flung from the out of control Falcon, which he saw spin through the canopy and detonate its leaking fuel reserves with a massive whump, followed by the solid boom of an explosion.