Terminal.png This article, Welcome Home, was written by KingOfYou115. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.
Welcome Home
WelcomeHomeTitle.png
Protagonist Jet Thompson
Author KingOfYou115
Date Published 04 June 2019
Length 664 words
Story Series Halo: Graveyard
[Source]

December 17, 2558 (UNSC Military Calendar)

Location: In orbit above Crest

"Rapier just made contact with the Guardian, we have our window."

«We'll be planetside in five. Forces on the ground haven't cleared us an LZ, prepare for contact.»

"Understood. Kyle, mount the door gun. Johnson, Snow, you're with me."

Of all the days and places...

"Thompson, get inside the structure, protect the civilians."

Here and now...

"Thompson?"

Seven years ago I lost this place. Seven years ago, today.

"Thompson!"

A smack across the side of Jet's head brought the Spartan back to his senses. His squad lead, Hall, stood over the man as he was strapped into one of the seats in the Condor troop bay, illuminated from behind by the red lighting bars strung across the ceiling. Behind him stood the other three members of Frostbite, all geared up and ready to deploy, waiting for the lights to turn green.

"Wake up. Now's not the time to be daydreaming."

Jet searched for the words. "Yes, sir. Today's just not been a good day for me."

"Won't be a good day for any of us if things go bad on the ground."

Kyle spoke up. "Kid, we get it. This was your home. Definitely not a nice sight to look at in its current state. But you weren't the only one in this squad to lose everything they know."

"That makes three of us," Hall replied. The fireteam leader had lost his homeworld, Arcadia, twice. Once while in training, and another while he personally defended the planet. But this was different for Jet. Hall didn't have a scar on the calendar from it.

Today used to be filled with gifts, partying, and cake. Today used to bring joy, laughter, and celebration. Today used to be the happiest day of Jet's life.

And now it memorialized the worst.

Jet wanted to forget it. He wanted to ignore the pain it brought. But being brought to the very place it happened never helps.

"Thompson, I need you running civilians to the dropship. You'll have the marines on standby if you need any assistance. The rest of us will try to redirect the Prometheans' attentions away to make your job just a little easier."

Jet could hear the gunfire peppering the Condor from the outside. They were close. He grabbed his rifle from the rack. "Got it. Once we're done escorting the miners out, we regroup with Emerald and Amber, right? Press north towards the dig-site?"

"At least you paid attention during the mission brief."

«Drop in one!»

Kyle chambered a round into the machine gun turret as the lights turned green. The door at the back of the bay began to fold downward into a ramp, revealing the scorched, murky plane of glass that now covered most of the planet's surface. Across the battlefield Thompson could see glowing orange combatants teleporting around, exchanging fire with the security force entrenched around a deglassing yard. Warthogs, both in standard-issue green and a crimson red finish, raced around the field as they kept the Prometheans busy.

Johnson and Snow rushed down the ramp and dropped out of sight as Kyle opened fire on the glowing crowd corralled in the center. The latter's armor has taken on a dark grey pattern that made it incredibly difficult to see against the walls of the troop bay, but the flash of the turret barrel kept the armor from making perfect camouflage.

Seven years ago I lost this place. Seven years ago, today.

Jet stood up behind Hall and followed the figure down the ramp as Johnson and Snow rolled back into upright stances on the ground. At this point, the dropship reached the lowest point in its path, allowing both Hall and Jet to simply step off of the ramp and onto the glass as the aircraft pulled back up, only needing a bit of aid from their suits' thruster-packs to keep their footing.

I won’t lose it again.

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