Halo: Heroes All

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"A hero is a man who does what he can."

- Romain Rolland.

Prologue
"I'm no hero. Heroes don't come back. Survivors return home. Heroes never come home. If anyone thinks I'm a hero, I'm not."

- Bob Feller.

Log 1
0830 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / STATION ONR South / 350 NAUTICAL MILES ABOVE CANBERRA / CONFERENCE ROOM 1

'''The following transcript is the intellectual property of the Office of Naval Research. Any and all ideas, concepts or other intellectual revelations are also the property of the Office of Naval Research. This transcript is classified as: '''TOP-SECRET - COMPARTMENTALIZED INFORMATION '''[G. Freeman]:''' I am Lieutenant Commander Gordon Freeman, and for the record, this is a transcript of the quarterly meeting of the Armaments Department, which I oversee, with Lieutenant Sulu in actual command of the department. The Armaments Department is a subsection of the Special Project division of the Office of Naval Research; regarding the state of projects in development. Mr. Hoffman, could you please start us off by stating your name and rank, along with the status of your project.

'''[J. Hoffman]:''' Yessir. For the record, my name is Lieutenant (junior grade) James Hoffman. I am in charge of the modification program of the W/AV M6 G/GNR "Spartan Laser" weapon system. So far, we've been able to cut an additional 2.45 kilograms of weight off the weapon with a simple redesign of the internal components, and the adoption of Mr. Freemans's newer and lighter 5-shot capable battery. Also to note is the -

[PA System]: Now hear this! Action Stations! All hands to action stations! This is not a drill!

'''[J. Hoffman]:''' ...as I was saying, the new variant of the M6 G is equipped with a 3x zoom-magnification scope. The modifications are being introduced as a kit, to be installed on a weapon system by a trained armaments technician. Miriah Armaments, the usual producer of UNSC arms, has oped out of producing them, due to other, more pressing orders. However, Aperture Science stepped up to produce the weapon, for a few thousand less credits. That concludes my abbreviated report. Sir?

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Very good. Lieutenant Sulu, if you will?

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Aye, Sir. My name Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, and I work under Lieutenant Commander Freeman on Project:RELATIVITY - rather, the development of a Shaw-Fujikawa Slipstream space engine capable of attaining a much higher velocity then current UNSC military models. Commander Freeman and myself (the primary physicists and mathematicians on this project) examined a Covena-

[Sulu pauses midsentence, and looks up at Freeman, questioningly]

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Sir, everyone here is rated TSCI, correct? Am I authorized to continue, on the record?

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Go ahead, Mr. Sulu. Everyone present is going to get an extra security clearance or two because of new Ownie security things anyway, and I'm going to apply more clearances required for this transcript. But, for the record, explain it simply.

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Aye. As I was saying, me and the Lieutenant Commander theorized that we can use a fairly complex plasma particle accelerator, that we viewed and figured out how to make and use, from a captured Covenant Slipspace engine, aboard the UNSC Gettysburg. How that warship came to come possess such a device is classified. But, with this new system, entering slipsteam space will be less power consuming, and require less overall power to remain in 'slipspace', allowing for a higher attainable velocity, by diverting the additional unused power to engines, to tunnel through the seven spatial dimensions (that comprise of slipstream aside from this tangible dimension) at a higher velocity. That is the program in the nutshell, without all the specifics and things that would require a clearance. However, this entire program is still in the conceptual stage, and will require up to a year to cultivate it into an actual blueprint for construction of a prototype.

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Additionally, for the record, I must request more physicists and mathematicians from another department to help with the number crunching. Perhaps the Auditing department...?

[Ensign Jim Rodriguez enters room in a hurry, and salutes CMD Freeman]

[Freeman returns the salute]

'''[J. Rodriguez]''' Sir, FLEETCOM and HIGHCOM just flashed a Priority 1 message to all ships and stations. The Covenant just slipped in system; mostly above the Mediterranean area. Allied forces are engaging, but it looks like one Carrier got planetside over New Mombasa. Needless to say, HIGHCOM is freaking out.

[Room becomes deathly silent.]

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Right, meeting adjourned. Rodriguez, talk to me.

[Everyone leaves room]

[Room becomes silent]

0852 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / STATION ONR South / 350 NAUTICAL MILES ABOVE CANBERRA / CONFERENCE ROOM 1

[Multiple handgun shots are heard]

[Four armed UNSC personnel open the door, and rush the room, closing the door behind them, and barricading the door with a chair.]

[Personnel identified as: G. Freeman, J. Rodriguez, H. Sulu, and R. Waters]

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Shit, they know where we are... give me a hand tipping over this table.

[Personnel knock a conference table over, forming makeshift cover, and get behind it.]

[Plasma fire is heard, and the door starts to buckle from repeated hits from 3,500 C° plasma bolts.]

[The four surviving UNSC scientists reload their assorted weaponry (Freeman has a BR55, Sulu armed with a M7C, and Rodriguez and Waters with a M6D and M6C respectfully).]

[The door buckles from sustained superheated plasma fire, and collapses, and Covenant Grunts swarm through the now-clear doorway.]

'''[R. Waters]:''' Fire!

[All four military men open fire, mowing down first the swarming Grunts, followed by the pair of Elites. The Elites briskly fell, following the failure of their shields from repetitive bullet strikes. Plasma fire impacts on the tough titanium table, melting sections of it, and molten metal spatters all over the floor. A pair of plasma bolts impact on Freeman's Hazardous Environment (HEV) suit, but harmlessly dissipate against the hardened Titanium-A plates, charring the orange paint off.]

[Waters starts screaming, from a category four plasma wound to his shoulder, that burned right through his Dress Whites, to the bone. Fortunately, any and all blood from the wound was cauterized from the heat of the superheated plasma. All hostiles are now either dead or unconscious.]

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Ensign Rodriguez, grab Chief Waters and drag his ass to the Hanger! We can't stay here to treat his wounds. We'll cover you.

'''[J. Rodriguez]:''' Aye, Sir. Come on, Chief. You can make it.

Log 2
(0856) STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / (SOEIV PODS 1-17 [28TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD]) / (EN ROUTE TO SYDNEY THEATRE [ALTITUDE: 92,000M AND FALLING])

(SOEIV PODS 6-10 [ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD])

[Deployed personnel:

(end of personnel report)]
 * Gunnery Sergeant Michael 'Smoke' Robson (aged 32) [POD 6]
 * Private Leonard 'Church' Bishop (aged 19) [POD 7]
 * Lance Corporal Callum 'Spade' Nash (aged 24) [POD 8]
 * Private First Class Ryan 'Warlock' Phillips (aged 22) [POD 9]
 * Corporal Amelia 'Wendy' Dawson (aged 32) [POD 10]

''[M. Robson hunches in his cramped SOIEV pod, calming himself over the unrelenting noise. White hot flames lick the viewports as his pod streaks through the upper atmosphere towards the city of Sydney. The steady whining grows as it gains speed; soon it reaches a deafening roar.]''

''[M. Robson flicks a switch on the illuminated control panel facing him.]''

'''[M. Robson]''': (POD 6) Altitude fifty kilometres and falling. Drag chutes prepped and ready for deployment. You know the situation, guys and girls. The Covvies have air superiority, heavy armour and masses of infantry currently converging on the FLEETCOM HQ.

 [ A. Dawson ] : (POD 10) And we get to drop in on them and shoot their asses up- literally.

'''[M. Robson]''': (POD 6) That's right Wendy. Keep in nice and close, we don't wanna lose one another groundside.

 [ A. Nash ] : (POD 8) [laughs] We'll be lucky if we don't bury ourselves inside a building; seriously, this is why urban drops have significantly- ''[R. Phillips interrupts [C. Nash]''

''[A small flashing symbol lights up on M. Robson console; barely audible over the din is a warning tone.

(WARNING: ENEMY UNITS ON APPROACH VECTOR)

 [ R. Phillips ] : (POD 9) Sir, six Banshees, about to engage us! Approaching from the southeast, half a klick and closing.

'''[M. Robson]''': Squad, scatter, spread out now. Converge on final approach and we’ll regroup on the ground. Hold your chutes as long as possible.

''[Flashes of brilliant blue light light dance beyond M. Robson's viewports as the Banshees attempt to hit the pods. He slowly angles his pod away from the others to present a more difficult target. (Estimated probability of full squad survival after deviation from preplanned coordinates: 3,720 to 1.)]

 [ L. Bishop ] : (POD 7) Sir, I’m hit!. She’s outta control, drag chute’s not responding!”

'''[M. Robson]''': Get a hold of her, auxiliary thrusters!

'''[L. Bishop]''': Negative, thrusters gone, I'm losing power!

(WARNING: ENEMY UNITS ENGAGING GEOSAT-229/A)

'''[R. Phillips]''': Sir, Covenant forces attacking our support satellite! Automated weapons engaging. If we lose that, we're on short range radio only!

[Banshees continue to strafe SOIEV Pods]

''[A. Dawson consults her computer console]''

'''[A. Dawson]''': Church, your computer systems are fried, but your backup chute is undamaged. You're gonna have to do it manually, using the emergency release!

''[L. Bishop attempts to free the emergency chute release. L. Bishop fails.]

'''[L. Bishop]''': I'm trying now, but it won't move, it's jammed!

''[L. Bishop slams his fist into his unlit console.]''

'''[C. Nash]''': Sir, getting live ground feed from our support satellite; the facility's being overrun. Air units are in full retreat, Marines are- ''[M. Robson interrupts C. Nash]''

'''[R. Phillips]''': Altitude one thousand two hundred metres, drag chutes standby! [speaking over C. Nash]

'''[M. Robson]''': Least of our worries right now, Spade!

'''[R. Phillips]''': All pods, set final descent vector to entry coordinates. Drag chutes, on standby.

'''[L. Bishop]''': It won't fucking budge! Fuck!

''[L. Bishop strikes the inside of his pod repeatedly.]''

'''[M. Robson]''': All troopers, prepare for combat insertion, we're hot the moment we touch down. Church, keep trying! It'll come loose, it's got to!

'''[C. Nash]''': Altitude six hundred metres, drag chutes deploying!

error//PODS 6-10/2SD-ACY-4PN//contact lost

......

......







[[ error//501//hardware failure//SATLINK-229/A>

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 6/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 7/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 8/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 9/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 10/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

<possible hardware failure or datastream interruption; initiating diagnostic/error//501 ]]

Log 3
0857 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / ODST Ready Room 2, aboard the UNSC Cruiser New Jersey / High-Orbit, over Sydney

[The UNSC Crusier New Jersey shudders as a direct hit shakes the Cruiser. The Marathon-class Cruiser fired its trio of Magnetic Accelerator Cannons, the almost churchbell-like resounding throughout the ship.]

[1MC]: Plasma Impact, decks five, six and seven, at frames twenty-nine, thirty, and thirty-one! Damage Control parties, evacuate and secure surrounding compartments on the double. ODST and Marine forces, prepare for immediate deployment. All hands, put on pressure suits and begin preparations to abandon ship, but do not abandon your posts.

[The four ODSTs in Ready Room 2 look up in various degrees of interest. ODSTs are as follows: Gunnery Sergeant L. Simmons, First Lieutenant W. Wright, Corporal S. Gilbert, and Private First Class A. Davies.]

[L. Simmons]: Well, shit.

[W. Wright]: Stow it, Gunny. You heard the XO - we're finally getting off ship. Grab your gear, and get to your pods.

[A. Davies]: Aye, Sir.

[S. Gilbert]: Lieutenant, Any intel of where we are being dropped into? Kit?

'''[W. Wright]:''' No, Corporal. Kit'll be rifles and submachine guns; the norm for a unplanned jump.

[The ODSTs quickly retrieve weapons and ammunition from nearby armory, just as the ship takes a major hit to the bridge, amidships, and the reactor compartments.]

[1MC]: This is Commander Tucker, Engineering Department commander. The bridge just took a direct hit, all command crew KIA. We just lost reactors, and power will fail shortly. We're also losing atmosphere at an uncontrollable rate. As the senior remaining officer on the ship, I hereby take command of this vessel, and order all hands to abandon stations and ship, and get planetside. ODSTs and Marine Corps, get off the ship anyway you can. That is all.

'''[W. Wright]:''' You heard the Commander! Into your Pods! Lets go!

[The troopers pile into their respective Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles, and rotate their pods into the launching bay.]

'''[R. Daley] (COM):''' Troopers, this is Major Daley, HIGHCOM. New orders are being dispatched, as you abandon your vessel. The Covenant are in Sydney, and you are to assist the defense of the city. Get a move on. Daley out.

[1MC]: Covenant landing forces inbound! Abandon ship! I repeat; get the hell off the ship; I'm enacting the Cole Protocol, and about to self-destruct the New Jersey.

[More SOEIVs are readied for launch in a hurry, appearing in the drop bay, poised for launch.]

'''[L. Simmons]:''' Fuck! Where the hell is the CO!? I bet the Marines and even the Navy is groundside by now!

'''[W. Wright] :''' Calm the fuck down, Leo. The CO is probably just a few secon-

[A tremendous explosion rocks the ship, plasma engulfing part of the Drop bay. The pods in the way of the plasma were vaporized, before the plasma dispersed.]

'''[W. Wright]:''' You're right Gunny; screw this. [LT Wright switches to DROPCOM] All troopers; as XO of the 103rd ODST Company, and as a commissioned officer in the UNSC Marine Corps, I'm authorizing the drop the entire regiment immediately.

[Wright punches his authorization code, and a hurried three-second countdown commences]

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM):''' Grab a hold of something, boys and gals - we're going down.

[One-hundred and eleven SOEIVs are released, rocket engines blowing the pods out of the hanger bay, officers and squad leaders first.]

'''[A. Davies] (DROPCOM):''' Inbound Intel, direct from HIGHCOM, concerning Sydney... Shit! The entire orbital defenses around it have been obliterated... All UNSC fighters in the region are grounded or destroyed... Covenant only just touched down, and the city is mostly unoccupied, but what UNSC forces are being pulled back to the square around the HIGHCOM Facility. Naturally, FLEETCOM is ordering us to defend it at all costs.

'''[L. Simmons]:''' Goddamn. Another fucking suicide mission, to save those Rear Echelon Motherfuckers.

'''[W. Wright]:''' Goddamnit, Leo. Get a hold of your self. You're a fracking Gunnery Sergeant - act like it. I need everyone cool and frosty when we impact in...one minutes twelve seconds, according to telemetry.

'''[A. Davies]:''' Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but...

'''[A. Davies] (DROPCOM):'The UNSC New Jersey'' just self-destructed in orbit - taking out a Corvette apparently. Furthermore, the Covenant pushed through the the Fleet over the Australian continent, decimating it, before being nailed by our few remaining Super MAC guns. Reinforcements are inbound, but their arrival, with regards to the heavier attacks elsewhere, is doubtful...shit! The Covenant are planetside in Africa as well, in New Mombasa, and the Kenyan area!

'''[S. Gilbert]:''' Forty-five seconds until impact. Standby to scatter for inser-

'''[H. Walker] (DROPCOM):''' Banshees! Scatter!

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM): ''' Troopers! Spread out! Altitude is 45,000 meters... impact in 34 seconds. Tee-minus 30 seconds and counting until primary drag chute deployment.

[22 seconds of silence]

'''[E. Rodgers] (DROPCOM): ''' Banshee's engaging! Agh! Banshee just shot 'way my main drag chute! I'm headed in!

'''[L. Simmons] (DROPCOM):''' Quiet on the command channel. You've trained for that contingency - we don't want to hear about it; just fix it. Oh, and 'chutes in tee minus three... two... one... mark!

[Drag chutes in most SOEIVs blossom, and decelerate the pods to a more sane velocity. Several more deploy late, while a few unfortunate souls fired main thrusters early to lower landing velocity without drag chute]

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM):''' Boys and girls, thank for flying Helljumper Air. Please have a pleasant evening and -

[Thrusters fire, decelerating pods yet more, as the drag chute is released.]

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM):''' Happy landings.

[FEED LOST]

[ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH FEED...]

[...]

[FAILURE. FEED LOST]

[ End of Log ]

Log 4
2113 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 11, 2552 / PERSONAL LOG ENTRY [26/26]/ 6TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD])/GySgt Michael Robson

Still haven’t quite got over Reach. That dumbstruck horror feeling is gone now, but it’s been replaced by something else; I can’t quite put my finger on it. Whatever it is, it’s worse, I think. It’s a sort of hollow ache, loss or guilt or something. Never been one for emotions. I think its fear, though. And guilt. Seeing all those brave men and women die to keep the Covenant off the planet, to protect their homes; while I escaped it. Still haven't heard anything from Slip or Grit- they didn't have a chance, but while there's doubt I can always hope. As for the rest, well...

There’s nothing I’d rather be doing, though, if the end does come. In Humanity’s final stand, I want to be doing the standing. We don’t have much left, these days. Just hope. I’m glad I enlisted. Glad to be doing my bit, to be fighting for my species.

Next time I get some leave I'll go and see my sister. She’s not been doing great lately, but it's unlikely I'll get to see her any time soon. I'll talk to her tomorrow, if I can. She's missing mum and dad something terrible. Arcadia was years ago. I am too, but I have fighting a war to worry about.

0711 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / PERSONAL LOG ENTRY [27/27]/ 6TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD])/GySgt Michael Robson

So, the Covvies are on our doorstep. From what I've heard, Command's running round like headless chickens planning contingency plans for when we get hit. We’re currently stationed above Sydney; we'll deploy via HEVs to the city centre to protect HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. They’ve chosen Sydney for a last stand, if that’s the way things'll go. Just now we had a hurried joint meeting with the entire 6th Battalion; the squad commanders all argued at the futility of it all. I said we had no chance of successfully deploying to the surface and retaliating without air support. Repelling them from the city under the sort of fire we’re likely to encounter is impossible. The whole operation’s insane. The chances of success are zero.

Nobody argued with me, I mean nobody discussed it. We were just told flatly, a simple, unsupported assertion, that the weight of our numbers on the ground would overcome all opposition. I think those words sent a chill down the spine of every man who remembered Reach. Those few of us there were. I threw my datapad down and sat with my arms folded, silent, for the rest of the briefing.

So here we sit writing log entries. Data transfer to the surface is restricted to allow priority communication. No one's received data storage allowance for weeks now, so I keep giving people my own free log spaces.

Not many left now. But enough.

UNSC FORCE COMPOSITION IN SYDNEY- AUSTRALIA, EARTH - OCTOBER 19, 2552

 * 4 Melbourne-class Destroyers
 * UNSC Rotoiti (79% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 352 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Tutiri (94% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 359 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 31 Marines
 * 21 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 10 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Taupo (86% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 360 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 29 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Hawea (98% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 363 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew


 * 4 Kiwi-class Patrol Boat
 * UNSC Kiwi (88% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Ford (92% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Tasmania (95% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Prefect (96% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew


 * HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
 * 1897 Support Personnel
 * 59 Military Police
 * 67 auxiliary personnel


 * 1 UNSC Army Infantry Regiment (62% readiness)
 * 17th Combat Brigade
 * Command Section
 * 650 support troops
 * 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment
 * 950 Infantry
 * 250 support staff
 * 1st Battalion, 35th Armor Regiment
 * 26 Main Battle Tanks
 * 38 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles
 * 180 vehicle operators
 * 360 vehicle technicians
 * 1st Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment
 * 14 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 56 flight personnel
 * 160 personnel
 * 4th Battalion, 27th Field Artillery Regiment
 * 18 155mm Howitzers
 * 250 personnel
 * 47th Brigade Support Battalion
 * 1250 support personnel


 * 1 Marine Armored Company (78% readiness)
 * 118th Marine Armored Company
 * 14 Warthog LRV
 * 6 Tanks
 * 250 personnel

UNSC FORCE COMPOSITION IN SYDNEY- AUSTRALIA, EARTH - 0910 OCTOBER 20, 2552

 * 4 Melbourne-class Destroyers
 * UNSC Rotoiti (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Tutiri (97% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 360 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 29 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Taupo (98% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 360 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 29 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Hawea (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 363 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew


 * 4 Kiwi-class Patrol Boat
 * UNSC Kiwi (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Ford (99% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Tasmania (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Prefect (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew


 * HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
 * 1897 Support Personnel
 * 59 Military Police
 * 67 auxiliary personnel


 * 1 UNSC Army Infantry Regiment (92% readiness)
 * 17th Combat Brigade
 * Command Section
 * 650 support troops
 * 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment
 * 950 Infantry
 * 250 support staff
 * 1st Battalion, 35th Armor Regiment
 * 26 Main Battle Tanks
 * 38 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles
 * 180 vehicle operators
 * 360 vehicle technicians
 * 1st Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment
 * 14 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 56 flight personnel
 * 160 personnel
 * 4th Battalion, 27th Field Artillery Regiment
 * 18 155mm Howitzers
 * 250 personnel
 * 47th Brigade Support Battalion
 * 1250 support personnel


 * 1 Marine Armored Company (97% readiness)
 * 118th Marine Armored Company
 * 14 Warthog LRV
 * 6 Tanks
 * 250 personnel


 * 2 ODST Companies
 * Alpha Company, 28th Shock Troops Battalion
 * 80 Orbital Drop Shock Troopers
 * Charlie Company, 11th Shock Troops Battalion
 * 107 Orbital Drop Shock Troopers

Chapter I: Impact
"It doesn't take a hero to order men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle."

- Norman Schwarzkopf.

United Nations Space Command ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 01728-01
Encryption Code: file/ silent reproach/ 

Public Key: Encrypted; Priority One Message 

From: Acting Fleet Admiral H.T. Ward, Commanding Officer of UNSC HIGHCOM / (UNSC Service Number: XXXXX-XXX972-HW)

To: All UNSC units in the Sol System

Subject: Amended orders for all uncommitted UNSC vessels in the proximity of Sydney HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6

Classification: Classified, Need to Know Only

/ start file/

Attention, all UNSC Personnel heed and stand to. Covenant forces have found and attacked Earth. Covenant Forces are also on Earth in three locations - the area in and surrounding New Mombasa, in Boston, and Sydney.

Due to the strategic importance of Sydney, all available uncommitted UNSC units are to deploy immediately to Sydney to aid in the defense of HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6, and the city.

Orbital assets are to deploy troops, and then return to designated orbital defense quadrants.

If the recipient is already committed, please disregard this order.

/ end file/

Hit it, Marines!
"Banshee's engaging! Agh! Banshee just shot 'way my main drag chute! I'm headed in!", a voice called over the 103rd ODST Company's DROPCOM channel.

Gunnery Sergeant "Leo" Simmons processed this information for a moment, keeping his eyes plastered on the one of the six LCD monitors mounted to the hatch; the one he was focusing on was currently displaying telemetry and radio communications. The poor sap who had his drag chute shot away was Private Edgar Rodgers - not a member of his platoon, but one of the new replacements after Reach.

He toggled TEAMCOM, and began to chide the young trooper.

"Quiet on the command channel. You've trained for that contingency - we don't want to hear about it; just fix it.", the Senior Non-commissioned Officer blasted across the TEAMCOM channel. As platoon leader, he had to ensure everyone who could make it down alive did so - his platoon or not. And in Drop School, every trooper was extensively trained in every possible scenario that could occur in a drop - and fixes to each possible scenario.

Leo noticed his helmets internal speakers begin to emit loud beeping noises, and directed his attention to the monitor displaying telemetry. He hastily toggled TEAMCOM.

"Oh, and 'chutes in tee minus three... two... one... mark!", he hastily called out, counting down the time until the drag chutes were to open. He silently prayed for a moment, hoping to God that the chute would open. If it didn't, he would have to fire main thrusters at 1,000 meters, and then hope that he landed on something soft. This scenario was called "digging your own grave", and the few other workarounds almost never worked.

Leo gulped and dug his fingers into the padded armrests of his Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle shuddered violently, and the large streamlined drag chute top on the top of the SOEIV released. This created a larger surface area, noticeably decelerating the insertion pod due to increased air friction.

Leo had become much more conscious towards the danger his life was in, in such activities as dropping into the atmosphere of a planet in a small metal egg. He had become much more cynical of late, after witnessing the the death of thousands of his comrades in arms, and his timely escape from the destruction of Reach onboard the New Jersey.

He heard the Company Executive Officer, First Lieutenant William Wright, make a final wisecrack before impact over DROPCOM, but instead forced the Lieutenant's comment out of his head, and concentrated his last few seconds in the air, on Sydney Harbor below.

Multiple UNSC "wet" warships were rushing about in the Harbor, tracer projectiles and missiles slashing through the morning sky at Covenant Dropships. Leo watched while a few D77 Pelicans darted about in the air, engaging in the delicate dance of aerial combat with Covneant Phantoms, at about his Pods altitude, before his SOEIV slipped below the fighting. He then shifted his gaze to the HIGHCOM facility - or where it should have been, relative to his pod.

He looked around, searching below his pod, and then infront and to the the side - before noticing the HIGHCOM facility on the otherside of the Harbor, and swore. That was where they were meant to be impacting. He opened his mouth to talk over DROPCOM.

At that precise moment, the Satellite-hosted DROPCOM channel cut out, and was replaced with static. The Gunnery Sergeant hurriedly switched to TEAMCOM, as the powerful thrusters on the underside of the SOEIV fired, shaking the pod violently as the pod decelerated from its incredible downward velocity to a much more reasonable rate. This also told him he had only a few more seconds in the air.

"We just lost DROPCOM, and we are dropping on the wrong side of the harbor.", he stated hurriedly, his voice wavering from the intense shuddering of the SOEIV's thrusters.

"What? That can't be...shit.", Lieutenant Wright breathed over the COM, voice coming over the COM sounding equally pitiful.

"Its true, El-Tee. Telemetry proves it," Corporal Spencer Gilbert reported bitterly over the TEAMCOM channel, just as Leo's pod impacted with a concrete street in Sydney. The force of impact instantly arrested further downward motion of the pod. Leo gasped as the air was forced out of his lungs by both the impact and the straps holding in his seat, and struggled for a brief moment to refill his lungs.

He punched the quick-release button on the straps holding him in his seat, which immediately released him, and slapped the hatch release button. This blew small shaped charges between the hatch and pod, blowing the hatch off and down the street. Leo proceeded to leap out of the pod, his M6L Machine Pistol drawn and at the ready. He hastily established a perimeter, as other SOEIV pods impacted around him, and listened intently on his SQUADCOM channel.

"Last available telemetry also reports we are 7.25 kilometers off course...and ended up on the opposite side of the harbor. At least we didn't end up in it," Private First Class Amber Davies reported smoothly.

"Nice to know, Private. Most of the Company is down now...uh, where are we all regrouping, El-tee? And, also, who's in charge?", Leo asked, surveying his surroundings. He had landed on a deserted city street, miraculously clean, and devoid of vehicles. The power was out, it seemed, although, this would not be an issue until night - a good 15 hours away in any case. And even then, all ODSTs were equipped with the new VISR optical system, to enable easier nighttime fighting.

"Looking at how the Captain didn't make it, I take over as acting CO. Lets all regroup where I am. On...what street is this, anyway? Standby a second," First Lieutenant Wright stated, trailing off at the end of his sentence as he presumably searched for a street sign.

The Gunnery Sergeant sighed, and wandered back to his pod to retrieve his M7/S Caseless Submachine gun, and his W/AV M6 G/GNR "Spartan Laser" from the pod. He hefted the heavy laser weapon, and attached it to the magnetic plate on his armor. This was a rather dated innovation to armor; the idea of adding magnetic plates to the back of armor to allow additional weapons to be carried, without cluttering the back and shoulders of a trooper with slings.

The acting commanding officer came back on the radio, and ordered any troopers receiving the transmission to regroup at the intersection between Thompson street and Silex Road. Leo pulled up an older TACMAP on his VISR, and figured out where he was headed, before he began on his way to the rendezvous point. He encountered a few stray troopers on the way, and ordered them with him to the rally poing. He also took the time to relieve ammunition and dogtags from the two dead troopers he came across.

Leo didn't really care for Lieutenant Wright much. He had been assigned to the 103rd ODST Company following the disaster on New Jerusalem - which had annihilated the company. The company had numbered 157 before the battle - and retained barely 34 WIA or active post-battle. He had lost his entire squad down there, and narrowly escaped alive himself. It was so bad that it had jumped the then-Lance Corporal Simmons to the grade of Staff Sergeant, and to the position of Company S-3 (Operations), until replacements arrived.

In his eyes, the young Lieutenant had plenty to prove - and Leo fully expected him to either fail or get himself killed. This was his first combat drop after all.

Statistics showed that more then quarter of ODSTs deployed to a hostile environment were killed the first day of deployment. The second day, it was a mere 16 percent, and declined sharply from there as experience is gained.

Leo glanced at the two and three story buildings on either side of him as he walked towards the rally point, and was vaguely wondering where all the civilians had gone, when a call came across the Radio.

"Contact, at the rally point! All inbound troopers, double time it!", the speaker proclaimed, nervousness obvious in his voice.

That Old, Familiar Feeling
Smoke groaned and clutched his throbbing head; for an instant dazed and disoriented, wondering where he was and how he came to be there. In seconds he was alert, pressing his aches to the back of his mind as his soldier's instincts shook him vigorously and took control of his thoughts. Through his pod's viewport, crisscrossed and spiderwebbed with cracks, he saw shadowy figures flitting from side to side and the unmistakable flash of plasma fire. The frantic shouts of fighting and sounds of weapons fire barely penetrated the pod, manifesting themselves like some distant skirmish that did not immediately endanger his life. Michael pulled the lever to the left of his head that activated the hatch release- nothing. Cocking his battle rifle, he raised his knees to his chest and kicked the door with both feet, pulling the lever hard. Explosive bolts blew the hatch off violently, and immediately and relentlessly he was propelled into the fray, torrents of searing plasma fire streaming perilously around and wild-eyed Marines being overwhelmed. The Covenant were coming down a wide street framed with tall buildings on either side; Jackals and Elites cresting a small raised section of the road and snipers raining torrents from above. A bright blue orb sailed through the air and landed at Smoke's feet; he dived away roughly, his armour scraping across the coarse concrete ground.

Grabbing a grenade of his own and keeping his head low, he lobbed it at an Elite, assailing two marines in cover behind a burned-out car. The device engulfed the beast in fire and shrapnel, clearing to reveal it still standing, shields crackling. Michael heard the sound of the air igniting as a Beam rifle shot streaked past his helmet; moving, he levelled his rifle and put two 9.5mm rounds between its mandibles, for a millisecond savouring the wrenching sound it made as it choked on its own throat. A towering orange elite roared and aimed its needle rifle- Smoke lunged behind cover, still catching a shard in his thigh, scything through his armour and tearing at his flesh. Reeling and blinded with pain, he wrenched it out, the seared flesh staunching the bleeding. His leg ignited with pain, he flicked his BR55 into full-auto and showered the Major with rounds that ricocheted angrily off its shields; next to Smoke a marine shouldered an M41 Rocket Launcher and gunned for it; the rocket hit its mark, disintegrating the Elite and showering gore and shrapnel indiscriminately, sending a pair of Grunts and a Jackal to the ground in undignified bloody tangles.

The Marine beside Michael raised his launcher again as an Ultra sent two other troopers down with torrents of plasma fire- the marine fell to the ground in a second- Smoke looked down and saw a making a perfectly round hole smoking where his right eye should have been. He traced the faint blue streak back to the bridge that spanned the road, and saw an enemy attempt to conceal itself.

"You four!" he shouted to the nearest few Marines. "Hold position here, I'm moving into the buildings!"

"Yes sir!" returned the nearest one as he rammed another magazine into his rifle.

Smoke grabbed and pocketed a pair of pistol mags that lay abandoned on the ground and, pulling back his M6's slide, entered one of the empty structures. The automatic door slid smoothly shut behind him, cutting off the sounds of the ongoing firefight. Silence played in Michael's battlehoned ears uneasily, and he moved through the dimly lit first room carefully, hisrifle poised. Smoke moved carefully and silently through the eerie room, stepping over loose fragments of metal and wrecked office equipment. He lined himself up by the door to the next room and, bracing himself, tapped the control panel with his fist. Michael fluidly slid into the room, aiming his weapon and greeted by nothing but overturned office furniture, plasma scorch marks coating the walls and, in the corner, a dead man. The man lay ungracefully with his limbs at odd angles, drenched in blood and with deep cuts covering him. Smoke grimaced, then steeled himself and moved towards the stairwell opposite.

Smoke noticed the faint green glow from across the room, as its sombre gloom had no other light sources. It emanated from the stairwell, to the right and slightly raised, as if from something waiting on the steps. Smoke noted it wasn't blue, ruling out an energy sword. His mind assessed the risk and determined the appropriate course of action. He replaced his rifle on his back and drew his M6 pistol, glad now that he earlier cocked it, for the room was deathly silent and any small sound may alert the foe behind the corner.

He moved very slowly forward, pistol raised to his eyeline, eyes scanning fervently for any sign of movement, ears pricking at the slightest of imperceptible sounds. He told himself to keep his hands loose on the gun, for he would need them to do what he was planning, but his experienced hands kept an unbreakable grip in the pistol's cold bulk. Smoke neared the open door, beyond which was the stairwell, bracing himself.

Smoke flew threw the door and the Jackal loosed a shot in surprise, but he grabbed its shield and threw it down the stairs; it landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom and Smoke jumped on it- it struggled and tried to push him off it, its shield pressed close to its chest; Smoke pressed it down on its neck with all the force he could muster, and listened as the Jackal kept struggling but slowly lost its fight for life. The shield slowly pushed harder and harder into it's neck, but Smoke didn't relent; harder still and it dug into the Jackal's neck, a spurt of arterial blood blossoming from its jugular, and cascading down Smoke's armoured chest like a purple waterfall. Michael looked into its eyes and smiled, as he saw its last thoughts and emotions run through it before they flickered and died; the Jackal convulsed and finally was still.

Smoke picked up its shield and moved up the stairs slowly, anticipating the presence of the snipers above. He inched higher slowly, his eyeline slowly seeing evermore of what was above; he quickly backed down again when two bolts of deadly blue streaked towards him, one a burning deep crater in the metal behind him and the other striking his shield, his body juddering from the force of the impact. Michael raised his borrowed shield and ran towards them as fast as he could; when he was near enough he dived into the first one, knocking it to the ground and sending its rifle tumbling off the bridge. The thing clawed viciously at Smoke's neck and he recoiled, recovering just in time for the second Jackal to raise its Beam Rifle; he levelled his pistol and fired into its face before it had the chance, and put two rounds into the back of the first Jackal, which was retreating after the loss of its weapon. It collapsed, gurgling sounds emanating from deep inside its chest. Smoke resisted the urge to make its last moments more painful as he saw down below the Ultra raise a stricken Marine by the neck and slowly draw a long dagger. Michael dived, grabbed the second Jackal's rifle and drove a shot through the beast's head, leaving a hole clean through it. The Marine collapsed to the floor, in shock, as Smoke looked down at the remaining Marines. He flicked his rifle quickly around him, his sharp mind assessing the situation; from the bridge Michael had a good vantage point of the battlefield.

"All clear!" he shouted, and several marines ran to check the dead and dying. Smoke saw a Marine pick up a biofoam canister from a dead soldier, only to replace it again after he saw it would clearly be empty; its contents poured hurriedly over a massive plasma hole in the marine’s chest. Fuel rod, most likely, Smoke thought, watching the Marine throwing it back down in remorse and sharing his sentiment.

"ODST Second Squad, report in," Michael ordered over the COM, taking the opportunity to regain contact with his squad.

A pause, then a static-laden response. "Sir, we're under heavy fire, Covvies are pushing hard down the main road towards the bridge, can't hold out much longer!" Amelia Dawson replied, shouting to make herself audible over the gunfire. "We're heavily outnumbered, got wounded, need immediate assistance!"

"Copy that!" he replied, and his thoughts turned to the rest of his squad. "Wendy, is anyone else with you? What about Warlock and Church?"

"Got Warlock and Spade here with me! Been trying to raise Church but he’s not responding. Sir, we're in need of immediate backup!"

"Understood, hold out as long as you can!" he said, and her voice vanished from radio. He brought up the drop position of Church and the current one of Wendy on his VISR, trying to work out how to reach them both. But they were in opposite directions- Church deep in Covenant-occupied territory and the other three under fierce assault. Smoke took a moment's pause while he debated what to do. He could go for Nash, Philips and Dawson, but he couldn't just leave Bishop in deep with no one coming for him. Or he could go for Church, but that was the wrong way, back in to Covenant territory...

Movement caught Smoke's eye; he turned and saw its source, observing from the bridge two Wraiths and dozens of infantry advancing down the road. He looked at the Beam Rifle's ammunition dial- enough for seven shots, or thereabouts. Suddenly he knew what to do.

"Marine!" Michael shouted, calling to the senior-most infantryman below him- the one he had just freed from an Elite's grip. "What's your name?"

"Corporal Thomas Carter, sir," the corporal replied, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"What's your current objective?"

"Orders are to hold this position as long as is humanly possible, sir," he said, blood glistening on the side of his face and the front of his armour- not all of it his.

Michael glanced back up the road, the Covenant still out of range, and not likely to spot them until after they crested the raised area of the road. "Your position's just been compromised, soldier," he said, looking down on the Marine check over his remaining men. "You're to fall back to the bridge, rallying troops on the way, and support a squad of ODSTs there. Tell them Smoke sent you. Oh," he said, belatedly retrieving something from a magazine holder on his chest, "Ask for Wendy and give her this." Smoke dropped the object into the Marine's hands, an empty bullet casing with a metal chain through it. The trooper held it up and saw as it caught the light, the word 'WENDY' engraved into it. "She'll understand," Smoke finished assuredly.

"Sir, why can't you give it to her yourself?" asked Carter, confused. "What about you? What are your orders?"

"My orders," he said slowly, almost thoughtfully, "are to fight the Covenant." As the marines moved out, Michael turned around and aimed his Beam Rifle, its alien crosshair resting lightly on the head of a golden armour-clad Elite.

Chapter 2: Oh, by the way...
"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."

- Umberto Eco

If at first you don't succeed - reload and try again
Lieuteant Commander Gordon Freeman dreamily opened his eyes, to see blue sky and puffy white clouds in the sky.

Clouds, he thought drowsily. A visible mass of droplets of water or frozen crystals suspended in the atmosphere, his intellect recognized as he started to drift back to sleep. No sooner had he closed his eyes did he awake with a start, flailing for a second before realizing he was strapped into the pilot's seat of a Bumblebee-class escape pod.

''I was stationed in orbit! I shouldn't be seeing clouds. Where am I and what am I doing here?'', he thought, adrenaline spiking and his mind suddenly racing.

And for that matter, why am I in a Bumblebee?, he queried, his mind racing frantically to recollect what he had done to end up in this situation.

"Oh...thats right," he muttered, suddenly recalling the events. The Covenant had attacked Earth, boarded the Office of Naval Research facility ONR South, and forced him to overload the station's reactor in order to deny the Covenant the secrets of the station. He had been lucky to reach the escape pods, and get clear of the explosion. Did he get clear? Freeman didn't know - that was where his recollection ended. But he landed alright - or so it seemed.

He yanked the quick-release strap holding him fast to his seat, and stumbled his out of the Bumblebee, before turning and looking back at his escape craft. It looked like it had had been though a hell of a lot. The vessel had its entire coat if paint charred off during reentry, and appeared dented and misshapen from impacting with the ground.

Freeman looked at his surroundings. He had landed in the middle of a 2 acre square park, overlooking the harbor, and surrounded by 30 to 40 story skyscrapers, which cast great long shadows across the small preserve. He readjusted his glasses, and looked at the few UNSC warships in the harbor sailing about, gracefully maneuvering and shooting cannons and missiles up at marauding Covenant Dropships.

The Navy Lieutenant Commander looked down at his dented and burnt Hazardous Environment Suit, and marveled at it. It was a heavy fullbody suit, at about 25 kilograms, yet it could withstand much more in the way of plasma fire then normal body armor, and, better yet, it slipped over his Dress Whites. And this armor was not even built for combat - but for hazardous lab experiments. This armor was what he had been urging his superiors at ONR to demonstrate to the Admiralty and heads of the other branches of the military - they would undoubtedly adopt this much better armor which would increase survivability and heighten the infantry kill to death ratio.

Not that it really matters now, with the Covenant on Earth, he thought darkly.

He heard a cry in the distance - human, Covenant - he didn't recognize it. He reached down to his holstered M6D, withdrew it, ejected the magazine, pulled back the slide, and inspected it. The magazine was still full, much to his surprise. He reinserted the magazine, and released the slide with a satisfying clack. He felt quite a bit better with a weapon on his person.

He holstered his sidearm and wandered back to the crashed Bumblebee, to search for salvageable items. The Officer recovered his BR55 battle rifle, and his black bag containing ammunition and his AS2549 Portable Computer.