Halo: Fall of Icarus
Chapter Zero: Prelude
By Drake Mathews
I do not own Halo, My Little Pony: Friendship is magic, or any other associated characters or assets. Hasbro owns MLP:FiM, and 343 Industries owns Halo.
/...
Location:
Crew Cell A2-025 - UNSC Frigate "Icarus" - Unknown Star System (Equ Minu system)
Date:
03:56, December 17th, 2559"Williams, get up! You have to get up!" Kelso, my fellow squadmate hoarsely said over the mass of explosions and stench of burnt flesh.
I slowly grabbed onto his palm as he helped me come to. I equipped my MA5B Assault rifle, and covered Kelso from a pack of Covenant grunts that had attempted to sneak up on him. An extremely loud *BOOM* knocked me to my feet, as the smell of Ozone and burnt flesh tormented my nose. A bloodcurdling scream of terror and pain pierced my ears, as I saw what was left of Kelso --His body had been blown to bits by a Brute Trip mine. Before I had time to react, a Covenant Brute Chieftain wielding a Gravity Hammer glared daggers into me as he smiled with a sense of bloody victory forthcoming.
I ran.
The dirt road felt like it went on for miles. Miles and miles and miles and miles...
As I tripped, my senses were replenished, and I woke up.
My eyes slowly peeled open, as I rose. The UNSC Marathon-class cruiser Icarus ran into light turbulence as that exact moment, making me almost lose my balance -- and my lunch. I felt worse than I ever had. A dozen innocent men died, and it was my fault. My guilt was in the wrong place, however, I refused to believe that.
"I didn't sign up for this, dammit!" I proclaimed. No one would hear. I slowly stood up from my bed, popping my aching joints. I've never been through this much strain, not in all twenty years of my service. I looked down, staring at my aching legs. I then cracked a minor smile, remembering one of my teammate's wisecracks, "Quit yer' whining, Mommie ain't gonna come kiss yer' boo-boos this time!"
Ain't that the truth.
I yawned and stretched, and the constant popping of my rotator-cuff would have alarmed me, but I could care less about anything but my freetime right now. My eyes had finally adjusted to the dimly lit interior of my soup-can. That's what crewmen call their rooms on ships, since they're so damned cramped. A closet, a bathroom (thank God) and a bed. That's about it.
My datapad lit to life on my nightstand (the poor excuse for one, anyway) with new orders. I begrudgingly picked it up, navigating to my "ORDERS" tab. On the screen, it read:
<>
<>
<> Good morning, Sergeant. As you know, our ships A.I. Calculated a slipspace jump outside of the known Galaxy. As such, we have arrived in an unknown system, above an uncharted planet. I, as the one in charge of maritime action strategies, have ordered that a team of our best soldiers is to be deployed on the planet in an attempt to investigate it's surface.
Report to Pelican sub-bay A-03 at 08:00 for debriefing.
Failure to report will result in demerit.
<>
Hooray for me.
/...
Captain Nulbarr, as usual, didn't even take the liberty of giving me much of a briefing other than "Find a reasonable LZ, and scout the surrounding area." and hurrying back to the bridge to preform whatever benign task that clearly far surpassed not leaving me in the dark (Aka. Bridge Golf)
I'm a battle hardened marine, and the asshole has the nerve to send me down to an unknown and possibly hostile planet with barely any objectives? I'm genuinely angered by this point. I march monotonously down the hallways of the crew-bunks, passing by a few fellow marines and getting cold glances that practically scream 'You look weak.'
I was weak. My body isn't used to this much stress. I'm used to the simplicity of a simple insurgent elimination, and now we're fighting aliens! I could tell by the odd looks that the crew gave me that I had rage painted all over my face. I concluded that maybe a quick trip to the infirmity --where the remnants of my team reside-- and cool off. It was 07:37 AM, meaning I had about half an hour to pass.
Hmm... Then again, I can't go on a mission on an empty stomach. Figured I might as well make my way to the mess hall and see what ~~burnt rubber~~ delicacies they're serving up for breakfast.
/...
Feeling a little better, I took one last look at the time. 07:56 AM. Better get going, or I won't hear the end of it. I casually walked past a group of ODST's giving me a stare of disapproval. I'm sure they knew about my Squad being all but erased by Covies. Easy shame for careless brutes like them. Not the same for Jar-heads like myself. I simply waved, and went about my business. I could practically feel their sarcastic remarks from behind my back. ODST's and Marines never get along together. They try to keep us separated, and the key-word is "try."
I reached the Hangar Bay, looking about for "sub-bay A-03," and let out a small chuckle as I noticed I was standing right before the bulkhead leading to it. I entered my clearence, and walked through the blast door. A flight of FNG's stood before Instructor Harold Peters. So much for 'the best soldiers aboard.' These guys were greener than grass, it was almost funny.
I took a firm step to the right of Peters, and gave a sharp salute.
"This is your team captain, Sergeant Gary Williams. You will abide by his rules. When he says jump, you don't ask how high, you jump! Understood, marines?"
The bunch responded with "Sir, yes sir!" in a harmonic synchronization. I nodded. I wasn't nervous, all though I was fairly certain none of these new guys had even touched an MA5B before. I was shocked to see another figure enter the group. It wore battle armor, yet this was unlike what I had seen before. It was entirely green, save for a pitch-black body-tight suit, accompanied by a matching helmet with a shining golden visor.
Peters turned to look at the armored stranger, and looked surprised. "Ah yes, Sergeant, this is the bulk of the group. This is Spartan-241, Mel. Sergeant
My jaw fell of it's hinges. My voice trembled, as I cautiously asked "A-A spartan!? Sir, who in Sam-Hell thought putting a spartan in the group was a good idea!?" Peter shrugged, and simply replied in a hushed mutter.
"She asked for the position, I didn't have a choice. I don't feel like arguing with it, I'd personally like to keep all of my vertebrae intact, thanks." He stomped off, as I was left in a haze of confusion. I was in charge of a Spartan? What, is there even a human inside that armor?
It cocked it's head to the side. "You look alarmed," she said in a half-chuckle.
"I couldn't help but tremble, I mean, you're a living legend!" I could tell without seeing that she was grinning underneath that visor. "Enough about me. We have a mission to get to, no?" I nodded. Her roughly French accent was oddly soothing, despite the fact that I know she's a killing machine. I ordered the team onto the pelican, and made sure each of them knew how to properly harness themselves in. Only about two of them did, even those two leaving too much slack. These guys were greener than grass.
~/...~
I finally stepped aboard after ensuring all of our equipment was hoisted in the right place, and atleast half of the Marines were suited for transit, I was given the clearence and took my seat in the cockpit as pilot. My flight skills were limited, but I was trained to get the pelican from point A to point B without crashing too hard. Taking seat as copilot was the SPARTAN, Mel. Occasionally, I'd hear her mumble something like 'A Grunt could fly better.' which would shatter my dignity each and every time.
Sidetracked with piloting the pelican, I chose to ignore her. At first she seemed friendly, but, now I see that she's clearly a condescending bitch. Not much different from Dr. Halsey, is she? It's both a shame and a relief that she was removed of her duties as an ONI Lead-Scientist/Commander in Chief of Personal Defense Division II. While she had over nineteen vessels in her direct command, she had only deployed a fraction of the PDD-II for a minor search and destroy mission around a supposed Forerunner artifact. Even then, she quoted, "The team's arrogance and ignorance caused major disarray, therefore, PDD-II has been commissioned and expelled from usage until further notice."
50,000 Dishonorable Discharges were granted that day, and two Marathon-Class cruisers were sent to their demise at Sigma Octanus II's Shipbreaking Yards. I smell bullshit.
"Williams. 0.2 kilometers until we reach atmosphere of Unknown Planet." Mel said in an oddly monotonous voice. When she spoke, the almost haunting ring of her voice echoed in my head. Why? I don't know. I have yet to find out.
/...
We made a --fortunately-- smooth landing in a fairly wooded area, thanks mostly to Mel's training, not mine. She took control after the first reentry stage, she could very easily see the sweat coming from my brow, it even began to obscure my own view. She ran a normal cycle, and set us on a plush landing.
One thing I had paid attention to was that there were many structures scattered about the planet's hilly surface. Another thing worth noting was that the landscape possessed an odd aesthetic to it; it seemed as if it lacked certain detail. One could almost even compare it to a cartoon. Atmospheric disturbance, maybe? The probes returned with a similar structure to Earth's atmosphere - it's pressure lying just above 100.343 KpA, a safe 77.60% Nitrogen, and 21% Oxygen, matching Earths exactly, so, that's out of the question.
Bah, leave it to the whitey-tighties up on The Icarus, they'll figure that one out before you could say-
"What the hell is that thing!?" one of the marine's foolishly --and loudly-- inquired
A large beast smashed through the thicket of the forest, letting out a tremendous roar, one that could only be described as a lion, and some sort of Avian combined. It's appearance was shockingly similar --it appeared to have the head and torso of a Lion, an odd pair of wings that seemed scaly, almost reminiscent of the Asian Dragon's wings. It's tail was also uncanny in it's ways, small exo-skelotal vertebrae jointed together, with a barbed end, similar to a Scorpion's.
It took a swing at the same Marine who had notified us of it's forthcoming, knocking his mangled body up against the Pelican's Hull.
Mel snapped. She darted from the cockpit, slung an MA5B over her shoulder, and eagerly took hold on one standard issue HE-11 Fragmentation grenade, and went to work. She leaped up off the Pelican's loading bay door, over the creature, taking a grapple on the beast's mane and swinging onto it's back. She swiftly avoided it's tail as it attempted to impale her, instead, the creature's own tail stabbed into it's back, prompting a loud roar of pain and anger to erupt from the it's snout. Mel took her opportunity, cracked the tail in two, and fired her MA5B into it's back, the bright-red blood of the beast spilled onto the soil around us, causing about three of the marines to regurgitate whatever they managed to keep down from the ship's mess hall.
Finally, it fell to the ground, whimpering. Mel pried open it's maw, and primed the HE-11 Frag.
"Mel, stop, I think that's going a bit far."
"No sir-"
That's an order, Mel!" It came out louder than I wanted it to. She paused, looking up at me for a moment, then continued to throw the Grenade over her shoulder into the thicket behind her, where it exploded moments later. Was she always this fucking careless?
I stamped up before her, and without a second thought, put my face up to her faceplate. "Just what in Sam-Hell are you thinking? I don't need my men covered in possibly hazardous organic matter from an unknown alien creature, thanks!" I tried my best to cool off. I hate Spartans. I hate Spartans. I hate Spartans.
That's better...
I then slowly and begrudingly approached the creature, snapped a capture of my HUD with my Field Documentation Software, or, FDS, and logged it as "Unknown, possibly genetically altered feline 01" before firing a single M6D round into the base of it's skull. If ONI wanted to do testing now, they're gonna have to scavenge from what's left.
/...
An hour or so later, we had set up a small camp, secured a perimeter, and attempted radio contact with any nearby civilizations to no avail. We did leave our Hails open, though, in the event that they contact us first.
Our Field Medic, Dana had tried her best to heal David, the foolish marine who yelled and was subsequently attacked by the freak-of-nature lion, giving him a few shots to ease the pain in his broken limbs and filling his deep scratch wounds with biofoam.
I nearly threw up, since I had a deathly fear over the stuff. It's smell... it's texture... I could never get over it. It bugged me unrelentlessly, causing nausea which had yet to cease.
I had decided after a few hours of boredom to put Mel in charge while I took a scout group out on the Warthog. It was risky letting an inexperienced marine at the controls of a 500 Horsepower Bull on wheels, and none so less to put one on the trigger of a 50. Cal LAAG. So, after a few modifications, I had dismounted the Hog's LAAG, and gave Nick, the team's heavy weapons specialist the task of disassembling it and reassembling it until he knew how the turret functioned --inside and out.
I'm such a great leader, aren't I?
I, and two marines, set out on a scout mission, armed with nothing more than our own fists and combat knives... Well, that, and a few BR55's. On the way, we nearly ran over a large, snarling canine, resembling a wolf of some sort. My belief was that this planet may be human inhabited, and Humanity had brought along some earth's species along with it.
My side-seat passenger, Abi begged to differ. With every new detail we noticed, she had a name or an explanation for all of it. She called the mutant lion back there a "Manticore," and nicknamed the wolves "Timberwolves," and went on to explain that they were truly made of wood, and were generally very awry and dangerous. She even called a strange illuminated plant "Poison Joke," and told that it caused effects that were only "jokes," and weren't long term or dangerous.
This Marine has an oddly childish imagination, I thought.
/...
Quite a bit of searching later, we came across what appeared to be a man-made, relatively late-1500's era ruin site. It featured two large, wooden doors at the front and stone bricks making up almost the entirety of the settlement, save for a few spots where deep, multicolored stained-glass mosaics take up space. They depicted small, pastel-colored, four-legged creatures that were roughly equine in appearance, that is, from what you could tell from the crude groupings of color that made up the mosiacs.
It was a Castle. The interior was what you would expect, with many monuments and even what was left of a throne room. We were amazed that these creatures were so strikingly similar to humanity, in that they had gone down the same passage as Humanity had. We scanned the Castle, and found nothing out of the ordinary aside from basic artifacts and a highly deteriorated tome with a metal lock.
We loaded back up, and I tried my best to ignore Abi's constant explanations for everything. I justified that letting her rest in the Med-bay of the Dropship for some mental R&R would do her some good. I spoke into the radio on my helmet.
"Mel, it's Williams. Do you read?"
"Solid copy. We've run into a few more Welcoming Party-goers. Two casualties so far."
I groaned. I knew those damn Marines wouldn't be able to defend themselves, even with a Spartan to assist...
"Uh... Understood. Get ahold of the Icarus, tell em' we need reinforcements. I'll get to the Pelican as quick as I can."
She paused. "Understoo-"
Mel didn't finish, and, hadn't it been for us crashing into a tree and being ricocheted into a small creek, I'd have asked why. I was launched through the windsheild, and hit my head on a small boulder, easing me into a not-so-peaceful state of unconsciousness.
~/...~
