User:Freelancer Serial/sandbox

Fanon Story Page
Below is my story. The name of it is Battle For Halo. I'm splitting it into sections, or chapters. I will update it from time to time.

Chapter One
Chapter 1: The Beginning Surface of Halo: Day One.

The sun shone blindingly in the heavenly blue sky, birdsong in the still, chilly air. A typical sunny day, but that perfect day was soon to end. Panting and weary, Tango team, led by Hiro Sodukai elite sniper specialist, were fleeing the dry, broken ground of a desert for their lives. At 0500 hours, Operation PROMECH had been scrubbed due to a regrettable mishap. An entire company known as Bravo Company, consisting of several hundred Marines, perished.

Upon enduring the quick transition to normal space in HEV’s from the UNSC Destroyer Crimson Sky, the ODST company had been targeted and vaporized by occupying Covenant forces. Since the discovery of another Halo by the prowler, Martin Luther King, both Human and Covenant forces have been hard pressed into claiming it. “Sir, slow it down. If we don’t stop, we’ll die before the Covenant get us,” complained a Marine. Hiro slowed to a trot then finally stopped. Turning around, he noticed several of his teammates fell behind and crumpled to the ground. “Check them ASAP. IF they’re dead, grab the tags, ammo, anything we can use,” Hiro ordered. No one moved an inch. They knew, the moment they stepped in the pods, they weren’t going to return. None of them were going to survive this war. Hiro’s ear bud started crackling. “Hiro, there’s a butte two kilometers northeast of our current position. Appears to be uncontrolled. Over,” came a female voice. He clicked his radio. “Roger that recon. Enroute now. Hold your position.” He ordered. “Alright you apes. Recon found us a nice place to bunk. First one there gets to sleep in.” A marine in medical gear appeared at Hiro’s side. “We’ve got one dead, plasma scorching at my guess. And the other severally wounded. If you don’t take it easy, we’ll be dead before tomorrow,” the medic suggested. Hiro just nodded and banished the thought. Moments later the team arrived at the base of a small hill to find two small, but agile figures at the top. One, specialist Alexia Sodukai, Hiro’s twin sister, and Private First Class Timothy Torres. Alexia signaled Hiro to come forward without taking her eye off the butte. “It’s similar to the one Major Silva established on the first Halo. Same design, entrances, everything but latrines,” Torres informed.

Hiro crouched behind both them pulling out his binoculars. Peering at the terrain ahead, he found quite the surprise. For over five hundred yards, they had to trudge through swampland, and through scorching open ground. He grunted then got up to make the report to the others. Standing before everyone he made his report. “Ok guys, listen up. There’s more than five hundred yards of swampland, and the rest in open ground. It’s imperative that we get there. Understood?” Hiro informed. The Marines nodded. “Then lets go!” Hiro yelled storming over the hill with his Battle Rifle shouldered. He froze stock-still. “Alexia, what is that?” Hiro asked his sister. Alexia sighted into through her S2-AM sniper rifle at the dust wake forming. “Covenant patrol! Two kilometer and closing,” she replied. Several deep rumbles filled the afternoon sky as four Longsword space fighters roared overhead. “This is Knife One-Seven. We’re here by orders of Captain Tirado Larson. Sit tight and hunker down!” a deep harsh voice roared over the radio. The four fighters let fly the Archer missiles in reserve as trails of white smoke followed. Several of the slim, but accurate screeching missiles found their targets but several hundred Phantoms still remained. The remaining alien dropships retaliated by letting the bright crimson red plasma from the turrets mounted underneath fly. One unfortunate Longsword was enveloped in the blood red plasma that it literally perished before it hit the ground in an orange, black ball of smoke and fire. Another wave of Longswords appeared to assist the original patrol. After about twenty minutes of fighting, what was left of the Covenant patrol was in a big pile of burning metal alloy. Hiro and his Marines stood on the hill mouths agape at the chaos. “This is Knife two-zero. Pathway is set. Reinforcements Enroute. ETA twenty minutes, Over.” Another male voice crackled into Hiro’s earbud. “Roger that. Thanks for the assistance, Major.” Hiro replied then turned to the Marines. “Well, lets move like Jackrabbits running from a cougar!” roared Hiro. The team stopped at the bottom of the hill as several sonic booms filled the air. They all looked up. To their dismay, several hundred UNSC and Covenant ships were engaged in battle. Two alien carriers exploded from the inside, a self-destruct. They shimmered bluish white then dissipated into the enveloping blackness of space. “Move people, move!”

UNSC Destroyer Crimson Sky, Status: Critical

Gripping the leather armrests, Captain Tirado Larson stared wide-eyed at the forward displays showing the battle raging not one ship length from his. The ship’s deck shuddered as the hull peeled away from a plasma blast. The atmosphere pressure on the bridge dropped as those decks vented into the vacuum then restabilized. “Garcia, move us into the ring’s atmosphere. Full speed.” He ordered. A young, but stout woman violently tapped in commands. “Yes Captain.” She replied. The several kilometer destroyer shuddered as the bulk turned into the course correction. All around the ship remains of destroyed or critically wounded ships floated, bubbling and sizzling. Armor plates glowed a bright orange as they cooled. Other ships began repairs. “Entering the rings atmosphere in twenty,” Maria informed. Tirado nodded and looked at the ships status. It wasn’t very pretty. Artificial gravity was nearly offline, all Archer missile pods were exhausted, several MAC rounds were left, and crewmen casualties were pouring in. A wraithlike figure shimmered on the AI pedestal next to Tirado’s chair. Its “hand” motioned for Tirado. He got up from his chair and approached the pedestal and the AI began to speak. “Tango team has established Bravo base. They are awaiting further orders.” Callisto explained. “Understood. Order the rest of Delta squadron on patrol. Send the rest of the ODST company in reserve to the surface immediately,” he ordered. “Yes Captain.” Callisto replied. Tirado sighed heavily as he dared a peak at the fleet status. His heart skipped a beat and his blood pressure soared. Only a handful of destroyers untouched and the rest obliterated, fourteen cruisers heavily damaged and the others setting courses to out of system vectors, three dozen frigates operating above fifty percent reactor power, and all prowlers accounted for. Tirado sat back in his chair closing his eyes. Images flashed before his retinas of bloody battles won at a great cost, then his wife, Sylvia appeared. Both eyes popped open as an alarm went off. “Report!” he ordered. “Slipspace rupture of the port bow,” replied Maria. Tirado thought quickly then replied. “Raise the battle alarm. Prepare to reengage the enemy,” he ordered. “Negative sir. Transmission on the E-band. It’s the Hopeful! And she brought reinforcements!” William O’Neil the COM’s officer interjected. A bright, whitish blue light flashed on the Port cameras completely obscuring the feed, and there appeared an ugly, but very valuable medical station. Immediately the station started to approach the most critically wounded ships and began rescuing survivors. Hundreds more rifts appeared on the Forward, Port, and Starboard cameras as hundreds of UNSC ships from every class appeared including several repair stations. Callisto, the ships AI began speaking in Tirado’s head via his CNI transplants. “Sir, orders are being carried out. But there is a slight problem with the ring world.” The AI informed. Tirado nodded his reply to his report. “According to my analysis on Halo, there is an infestation to the disease known as the Flood. I suggest you deploy one of the available prowlers to locate and observe the Library,” he exclaimed. Tirado started tapping his lips with an index finger, an old habit. Bringing up the list of Prowlers on his chair screen, he selected one that wasn’t involved in rescuing survivors. The Sojourner was replacing damaged armor plates and running diagnostics of hacked programs. Tirado opened a channel to the ship. “Commander, this is Captain Larson of the UNSC Crimson Sky. I need you to locate and observe Halo’s Library once you’re done with repairs. Over.” He began. There were several heartbeats of silence than a female voice carried over in static. “Roger that Captain. Enroute now, Over.” Commander Triton replied.

Surface of Halo, Bravo Base, Day Two

The scorching sun burned down on the inhabitants of Bravo Base. Hiro strode out onto the makeshift parade ground to see several platoons drilling. For defense, technicians from the Crimson Sky and other available ships had welded portable Magnetic Accelerator Cannons codenamed MAC’s. They spit out up to several thousand rounds of energy slugs. “Anything happening Private?” he asked Torres as he approached from him from behind. Timothy turned around and smiled while saluting. “Yes sir. We’ve got the rest of Charlie Company on hard drop, and swabbies as our night guard,” he replied pointing up. Hiro looked up as hundreds of HEV’s pounded the dirt, throwing up dust and dirt clouds downwind of the base. He whistled. “This is Major McClain. Under the orders of Captain Tirado Larson, we are here to protect your heads. Over,” a male voice roared over the radio as six Longswords flew overhead. “Roger that Major. Good to hear your voice. Over.” Hiro replied following the fighters. Two fighters veered off course, one to Starboard and one to Port. In the distance he noticed a dozen Phantoms and dozens of Seraph fighters, an invasion. The four Longswords opened fire their chainguns mounted under the noses.

The depleted uranium slugs pierced the Seraph fuselages, instantly killing the pilots and tearing the fighters apart. The forward wave went down in a hail of lightning fast bullets and flaming blue plasma. The Covenant dropships retaliated by unleashing volleys of red and blue, boiling plasma. One unfortunate Longsword went down in a crashing ball of red, blinding orange, and black smoke as the plasma melted away layers of protective armor plating, then found the engine coils.

The mid-altitude fighters shot back with 110mm chainguns mounted around the nose and Port and Starboard wings. Major McClain and the three remaining Longswords fired their Archer missiles. High pitched screeches and sonic booms filled the air as the slim dealers of doom found their targets. All that was left of the Phantom patrol was a field of flaming blue chaos.

“Sir, Major McClain and the rest of Delta Squadron have been engaged. There is one confirmed casualty. No survivors” Maria sadly reported to Tirado. Tirado gazed at the 3D map board as Covenant fighter IFF tags winked off and one Longsword. Sighing heavily, he looked around the bridge. Battle fatigue was starting to take a toll on his crewmembers “Garcia, move us above Bravo. O’Neil, tell Delta Squadron to fall back to rendezvous point Kilo One One. Also, inform Sodukai his supplies are going to be late. “Aye aye,” Maria replied while violently tapping in commands. “Yes Captain,” replied William, doing the same thing. Callisto’s wraith-like figure appeared on the pedestal. “Message from Lord Hood, sir. Uploading transmission now.”