HALO: An Armored Prayer

HALO: An Armored Prayer is fanfiction surrounding the journey of the many soldiers of Voron's ORION-3 'Ghost Team'. The project particularly surrounds the origin of Ghost Four, Jacinto Ellison.

Prologue
Callisto Campaign, day 39. --Log, Combat And Reconnaissance Team 22

The United Nations Space Command vessels slowly navigated through the debris field of Titanium-A battle plating, moving silently in the blackness of space toward the capital city. Within the formation lay the UNSC Terra Nova, A UNSC C27 Destroyer. Bristled with archer missile pods, and kept its inhabitants safe behind one meter of Composite-A battle plate, which sandwiched layers of kinetic and thermal protection at the cost of additional mass. The Terra Nova was armed with 12 basic SOEIV's bays, which would be used by the hundreds of Orbital Drop Capable Personnel within the Terra Nova, but not today.

It was the beginning of the end for the Callisto campaign, hundreds of extremely agile, lightly armoured Exile Warships loomed on the other side of Oasis IV's many moons. The CMA Forces, aided by the UNSC Destroyer were desperately outnumbered. There was no choice, several anti-air emplacements planetside eradicated the chance for an SOEIV drop, only the heavily armoured assault boats would survive the drop - and even then, it was a slim chance. Inside the drop bay for the AAB-66 Drop Jets was a regiment of CMA Personnel, including the survivors of CAR-22.

Two men, dressed in tattered Body Armour entered the drop bay, a thin ray of sterile fluorescent light burned into the dim drop bay. A pair of AAB-66's stood in front of them, the smooth edges were bristled with 14.55mm Air to Air cannons, several engineers scrambled to make last minute adjustments to the weaponry of the Drop Jets - at least a thousand of them, spread throughout the fleet were doing the same. An aging Colonel, dressed in a pristine UNSC Battle Dress Uniform stepped down from the AAB-66's cockpit, as a man welded a small 5mm plate to the damaged hull.

"Colonel, sir!" The first CMA man said, he stood stiffly - his back perfectly straight.

"At ease soldier," The Colonel turned his eyes to the second man, he stood slouched and his face was darkened from the last time he had seen him.

"Holland, what the hell are we doing? With respect, these birds have been out of service for the last twenty years." The second man asked,

"Settle down, son, we can't let those bastards take this one like they did with Persius. And, Jacinto - just because I know you doesn't mean you can slouch like that. There's no time for questions Jac, get on number six and be ready for a hot drop."

The three soldiers parted ways, Jacinto reached from the equipment rack and slipped on a pressure helmet, as it linked with the pressure-sealed BDU it hummed to life. Ellison sat down onto the cold metal seat as the sound of welders and the smell of oil disappeared, he pulled down a black plastic monocle and flicked the switch. Instantly, battlefield information streamed across the 1" screen, and the TeamCOMM activated.

"Hell, Alex, you picked one helluva day to join up. You never told me why you left Olympian, what, got expelled or sumthin'?" Jac asked,

"Nah, graduated bro, it's been a fucking while, what - you lost track'a time? It's been over three years since I last saw ya over at Tony's. You were pretty fucked up last time I saw you." York responded.

"I still am, damn what've you been doing since grad'? Heard they started recruiting conscripts."

"Conscript? I joined myself, since I heard Masyaf was next, patrolled backwaters 'till those fuckers kicked down the door. Had the worst time'a my life during Callisto."

"Well, I'm guessin' Callisto is just about over. Get ready to drop Echo Five." Jacinto stood up and took an MA5K from the munitions rack, "Hell, It's gonna be one hell of a day."

"Yeah well, I'm guessin we'll fuck shit up on the way."

Jacinto took a screwdriver from his tool packet on his thigh, he slowly inspected the rifle until he concluded that it would work fine, as he did so, the engineers stopped and it slowed into silence, the last passengers were arriving. Three more soldiers, dressed in green matte pressure BDU's.

The tallest one of them, Pvt. Allen Triviani carried an SL-74 rifle, under the barrel was a large titanium bayonet he had fashioned out of a piece of the scorpion tank his eldest brother served in. "Motherfuckin' sons of bitches..." He said "After all the shit we went through they're still burning this to the ground, the fuck's the point when we can just run away from it all Jac?"

"Honestly dunno T, we don't gotta choice we're blowing this place to kingdom come. You alright Dahlia? Heard you got fucked up pretty bad." Jacinto asked as the magnetic gravity was disabled.

"It's fine Jac, just hate the prosthetics I mean, what's the point of making it look real when it isn't?" Dahlia took a seat across from York, next to Alex, she raised an eyebrow and turned to Jacinto. "Who's the new guy Maestro?" She asked, with a tired voice.

Jacinto took a quick glance at everyone, the AAB was dimly lit, the grey titanium was bathed in a pulsing amber glow, "He's an old friend of mine," "Everyone, this is Alex Masyaf York, the new EOD specialist."

The last man in CAR-22, stood up to shake his hand, disobeying the safety protocol. "Name's Gregory, Collins Gregory. Nice to meet you." Collins stumbled and slipped back into his seat.

"So, that's who's stepping into Reginald's shoes then... You better know how to take a landmine, kid." Alex commented,

"Wouldn't want'ta lose your face, pretty boy, huh?" Dahlia breathed. York grinned under his faceplate, "Nah, I wouldn't. Wouldn't want to lose my arm either."

"Hmph, looks like we got a smartass here." Collins laughed, "where the hell were you during Callisto?"

"West side bro, 'took out a tonna tanks with landmines. Took out a couple'a mines 'swell, I ain't losing my pretty face any time soon." York responded.

"Huh, Yeah I like this guy. Welcome to the platoon, Alex." Collins chuckled.