//------------------------------// // Prelude // Story: Halo: Harmony // by NotSlenderman //------------------------------// 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. ~/...\~