Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Remember Reach	By : xxfatedsoulxx Category: +G through L > Halo Views: 40530 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Halo and all the races/characters herein are owned by Halo, Bungie, and Microsoft. This fanfiction is purely for entertainment purpose and I make no money from it.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Visions of plasma fire and projectiles crisscrossed through her field of vision. “Six” could vaguely hear her commander trying to issue orders over her com unit, but the Spartan’s ears were ringing from repeated Wraith plasma torpedo detonations all around her current cover. She armed her suits enhancement piece she’d found, to send out a holographic projection of herself sprinting out one side of the cover.

One. Two. Three. She counted slowly, waiting. She heard the whine of the Wraith tank’s engine as it pivoted to track her hologram and she burst from the other side of the stone pillar she’d been using as a barricade. She broke into a rapid sprint, her eyes fixated on her target. She dove onto the back of the Wraith as it finally blasted her hologram from existence. Sun beating down on her MJOLNIR armor, “Six” shoved a plasma grenade into the vehicles un-armored intake and dove off of it. She hit the ground in a quick, shoulder roll that allowed her to come up facing the doomed vehicle.

The driver never even had a chance to pivot the death machine towards her before the grenade went off. The contained plasma burst caused an explosive decompression throughout the tank. It detonated the smooth purple surfaces and scattered bits of armor plating like sheets of paper. The gunner inside the vehicle’s anti-personal turret was pitched free and sent sprawling through the air. They hit and rolled close to her, face up.

“Six” froze in place as she stared down at the corpse. Unlike the Elite she’d expected to see, instead all she saw was blue armor - now charred black - and a robotic right arm. Kat’s helmet had been pitched free of her armor, and she stared at the sky with dull, lifeless eyes. “Six” felt as if the blood in her veins had chilled to ice as she stared at the fallen Spartan. Behind her mirrored, golden visor, she slowly looked up to see Carter’s plasma burning corpse laid over the edge of the Wraith’s driver compartment.

My fault. Their deaths are my fault!

“Why Hazel? Why did you abandon us on Reach? You were our teammate!” Kat’s voice came from her mangled, dead looking face.

The Spartan hadn’t felt so human for many years. Not since before it was beaten out of her in training, and before her augmentations to become the Spartan she was now. But she wouldn’t have guessed she’d undergone such radical changes. Not now. She stared at Catherine’s disapproving face in horrid shock and shame. “K-Kat…. I’m sorry!” She blurted out, tears stinging her dull grey eyes and skewing her vision through her gold mirrored visor. Guilt flooded her center, causing her stomach to feel as if it had dropped out of her and left just an aching emptiness at her core.

Kat just murmured back, “You’re no Noble, Hazel. You’re no Spartan!”

The surreal, grim scene disappeared in an instant as she felt her eyes snap open. Her whole body trembling as she felt a thick, scaly brown chest pressed tightly against her still bare back. Hazel looked down at his broad, masculine hands as they held her tightly, and the feel of his deep, slumbered breathes rolling across her neck and shoulders. She tried to ease herself out of his embrace, instantly being reminded of the thick fluids the alien had left within her.

She resisted the urge to wretch and vomit. Kat’s words from her dream continued to resonate in her mind as she slipped free of his limp embrace and took her feet. In the dim, blue lighting that illuminated his bed-chambers mid-sleep cycle, she could clearly see the wet blue stains on his sheets from where his foreign seed had mingled with blood from her torn cervix and pooled onto the cloth.

Unbridled hatred swept her, and she clung onto the feeling as it overwrought the guilt she carried. She was Noble, and she wouldn’t let him - or any of his race for that matter - get away with continuing to take whatever they wanted from the human race. She stalked over to where she’d lost her sword. The arrogant bastard didn’t even think to stow the weapons! She walked back over to where the Ship Master lay; blissfully unaware his death was at hand. She took a moment to take him in, every muscular line and curve of his body.

His brown scales taking on an almost purple tint in the ambient blue lighting. She remembered someone telling her that Elite’s had two hearts, so she didn’t dare go for a torso strike. Instead, she moved quickly, straddling the beast’s stomach and pressing the sharpened blade flush with his elongated neck and throat.

The motion roused her prey, and his eyes widened in shock to see her atop him, blade in hand. Hazel reveled at the fear she could see in his face, and she swam in the pleasantness of knowing she held his wretched life in the balance. “Where’s my armor!?” She growled viciously at him. More of his thick expulsion dribbled out of her now spread legs, trickling across his hardened stomach.

Whether it was fear, or the idea of dying at the hands of a woman whose womb was still filled with the fruit of his loins, Hazel didn’t know, but he very slowly raised his left hand to point towards his trophy wall and spoke, “Behind there.” He stated flatly, his mandibles clicking as he seemed to contemplate his options.

“How do I open it?” She snapped back, giving no quarter and pressing the blade in a bit tighter. The metal bit into his scaled hide, drawing a thin line of purple blood about its sharp edge.

“Pull forward on the plasma sword statue,” he responded without hesitation. His right hand moved to gently press against her thigh as he spoke, “We are mated now, human. Surely you ca-”

The disbelief of her next action became permanently etched on his reptilian face as she shoved the blade clear through his throat and out the back of his spine. She felt the blade sink into his bed as she exclaimed, “You’d better damn well bet I can! We are not mated you filthy beast!” In a moment of passionate rage, she wound back and punched his face before it could roll into the sheets, sending the severed head rolling across the room’s floor. She stood up slowly, her feet straddling the headless body as she finally felt the last of him leave her. She stared down at his pitiful remains, now covered in the purple blood that had gushed forth in the wake of her blade’s passing.

She finally stepped down, moving with precision and speed drilled into her as a child. Images of Mendez and Kurt pushing her to her limit rushing to mind. She grabbed hold of the statue of a plasma sword and pulled it ahead, activating a mechanism that opened the case into a small treasure trove. Grouped near the back, she saw her MJOLNIR armor, minus the helmet. She’d never felt so relieved to strap on the multilayered gear before. The cushioning gel-layer surrounded by the gruff plating. She activated the suit’s power and flexed her hand, feeling the gear respond in time with her. “Excellent!” She exclaimed with a sense of building hope. Some of the armor was still damaged, but given some time, Hazel knew she could repair it enough to be serviceable. Her lack of a helmet also slightly crippled her armor specs, but at least she has her shields back.

She spent a few moments searching through the trophies and was overjoyed to come across a MA37 assault rifle, complete with three full clips beside it, and one in. Hazel forced herself to remain calm; it was still only one weapon and a hundred twenty-eight bullets between her and an entire Carrier full of Covenant. If she remembered her earlier briefings, there were roughly four thousand Covenant troops per carrier, and that didn’t even begin to include the vehicles, races, and weapons they might carry. She ran a gauntleted hand through her dirty blond hair, unwittingly spreading a bit of her attackers purple blood into the locks.

She knew that what happened to her must register on an emotional level, but for now, she put it into perspective. One objective at a time, there’d be time to grieve for her fallen team and her own suffering later. Her training made her strong, and she fell heavily back into the distant memories bestowed upon her by Chief Mendez and Kurt. She exited his trophy room, hooking her newfound assault rifle onto the magnetic panel at the back of her torso.

She made short work of scavenging what remained of his armor, finding the hilt to his energy sword and plasma rifle. Normally she’d load light, and only carry a pair of weapons, but in this situation, she understood the need for having back-ups. She found a spot on her belt for the plasma rifle and energy sword before moving out of the quarters. She blinked away the slight sting of the much brighter hallway lights as she started into the ship. She kept her combat knife in hand, planning to use it as a means to silently dispatch any who she came across.

***

News of the Ship Master’s death and the human prisoner’s escape had brought about many questions. Among the Ship Master’s missing effects, it included the accursed armor that the Demons used. Voro stormed across the command deck of the ship, having claimed the rank of Ship Master in wake of his predecessor. Voro’s powerful feet dug harshly into the deck’s flooring as he strode to the command console. “Where is she?” He snapped at the Sangheili operators as they spoke through the Battle Network.

His second in command turned to face him, “We are uncertain Ship Master! She has disabled our Luminary and all squads that have encountered her have simply disappeared without so much as an attempt to contact the bridge!”

Voro let his fury show, backhanding the man for his failures. “I want her found, NOW!” His building rage had been going on for nearly two weeks since his ascension to his rank as Ship Master. He still remembered the comical scene of his former leader’s death. His body was covered in his own filth, mingled with the female’s blood, his head completely severed and left discarded on the floor, and several of his hidden cached prizes ransacked. Voro couldn’t help but enjoy his musings, despite the situation. He had the audacity to talk of what Voro had wanted to do to the female, looking down on his desire to humiliate the heretic demon.

Instead, he had gone insane and mated with the filthy alien. Sure, they’d all taken in her thick, pheromones’ scent, and they had agreed that it was nearly intoxicating to them. Voro let out an angry huff as he remembered having to turn his back on the eager female begging for his attentions. Back home, pheromones meant a great deal when around females, but they were always in check. A Sangheili woman knew how to use them to express her emotions. There were mythological stories back on Sanghelios of beings that would lure wayward travelers and bestow upon them vast pleasures that drown out their senses, filling them with lust.

Since he’d scented the Demon, he believed her to be akin to some form of Succubus, sent to test his resolve. The very memory of her aroma caused him to feel his loins to engorge and press uncomfortably against his golden cod. He let out another growl as he forced himself to regain control. He wouldn’t be tempted by her, as his predecessor had been.

“What’s the status of the voyage?” Voro finally barked to his second.

The red armored elite, whom had also been present with Voro in the brig the day they’d scented the female, turned to look at him. “We should be reverting to normal space within the hour, Ship Master.” He stated respectfully, while taking a second to wipe away some still damp blood from the mandible Voro had split with his disciplinary attack.

Voro couldn’t hold back the growl that surged forth in his long, serpentine neck. Two days after her escape, a mass message broadcast across the Battlenet to all the ships in the fleet that one of the Sacred Rings of the Forerunners had been found. He’d hoped to have her purged from his vessel, or at least caught, before arriving at the holy ring, but she‘d proven to be adept at keeping out of sight. He’d lost count of how many of his crew had gone missing, and he, himself, skulked the hallways in hopes of finding his wayward prisoner.

To make matters worse, she’d even had the gall to break into his brig, and free the human fighter they had captured. They had found him aboard a vessel’s piloting station, and hoped to use his knowledge to find more of the vermin’s worlds. The Profit’s wills had been absolute; all humans must be eradicated. Voro had fought them on many worlds, including the ones they’d called Harvest and Madrigal. Both worlds’ surfaces were but glass now. Minor stepping stones in the vast wake of the Covenant armada’s path.

Voro enjoyed a new swell of pride as he recalled watching the human home world - Reach - burn through the viewports of the Wayward Soul’s stations. He’d only wished he’d been able to stay for the end of it. Instead, his ship was sent towards another star system, to search it for human remains. The Supreme Commander, Thel ’Vadamee, had insisted they eradicate them before they got news of their home world’s destruction. He had witnessed the end of the human race, and he would watch as the vermin were flushed from their remaining holes and burned.

The Age of Reclamation was at hand, and all of the true believers in the Great Journey would soon be on their way. Finding the Ring was a huge morality booster for the warring forces, as it showed them their devout followings were finally coming to a close.

Voro clinched his hands into fists and began to stalk back and forth on his bridge again. His mind was racing. He wasn’t sure what to tell the Hierarchs when they arrived, but he was confident that he would not be held to blame for the actions of the former Ship Master. The Demon’s disappearance on his ship could simply mean she was no longer aboard. He tried to push aside thoughts that the Prophets might force him and his crew to abandon the Wayward Soul and vaporize it in an attempt to destroy her.

A new swell of rage filled him as he thought that. It’d taken him longer than he’d expected to attain the rank of Ship Master, and he was in no hurry to give up the title or honor because of one human! “Order a last minute search! I want everyone to participate!”

Koros, his red-armored second in command, turned to him, “It will be done Ship Master. She cannot evade us forever.”

Voro nodded to him, stalking over to his command chair and sinking down into it. In the last two weeks, the Ship Master hadn’t gotten a decent cycle’s rest, nor did he ever put down his blade. She would be foolish enough to emerge, and when she did, he would be ready.

***

Hazel watched as a small group of Grunts toddled past her, unknowingly. They were whining and complaining about the double-duty they’d had to pull since her escape, and she afforded herself a light smirk at the idea. The ship’s command was starting to get sloppy and paranoid, opening up their defenses to any who would seek to exploit it. The fact they were forcing their sentries and soldiers to go without sleep meant they were going to be sloppy if things turned into a fire fight.

For the last two weeks, she’d been using guerilla tactics and hit-and-run ops. She’d used the ships vastness to her advantage, and had found a service hatch that’d kept her hidden. Now, she was using it as a meager base of operations and hide-out, as well as a place to stockpile the weapons she’d procured from her victims. Seeing that the immediate threat had moved on, she shuffled her way back into the small opening near one of the plasma lines for their torpedo launchers.

Inside, she’d found the marine she had rescued still sleeping against the wall. She watched him carefully in the dank, cramped space they shared. The man rarely spoke, and was never conscious for much longer than to eat, sleep, and defecate. At least the methane tanks from the grunts had served, some purpose, as a way of disposing of such things. She’d done her best to nurse him back to health, and even gone so far as to steal the plasma healing device that had been used on her.

While stable physically, David had been all but destroyed in a mental capacity. He couldn’t recall how long he’d been held captive, nor did he ever have much to say. In fact, beyond when she’d broke into the brig and taken him, she hadn’t heard him string together but a few sentences. She flashed back to the cell, hauling him up out of his own blood and muck. He’d called her his angel of death and begged her to end his life.

Hazel had refused. Seen enough needless death, soldier. She thought again, I’m not about to let you go down without a fight. You want to die, it better be with a weapon in your hand and giving it your all. She watched him sleep for a moment, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath. He had shaggy, dark brown hair that had long since grown past regulation, and the makings of a good bit of beard was thickening his chin. His features were broad, with a square jaw line and slightly bulbous nose. His brow was also thick and defined, reminding her of pictures of old Neanderthals from Earth’s history. His broad shoulders, stout chest, and rock-hard stomach only furthered that stereotype. If he was weak, he certainly didn’t show it on the outside.

She was jaunted back to present, however, as she felt the ship lurch and shift. It was smoother than she remembered on a UNSC vessel, but the deceleration from slipspace was unmistakable. Now was her chance. Hazel rushed back to the entrance to her keep, peeled back the hatch that blocked it, and slipped into the hallway. The broad, oversized arches of the sleek purple corridors of the ship made moving about easy enough. She could see for long distances and almost all the doorways were far enough from the main hatch that walking by them didn’t provoke their motion trackers.

She quickly made her way to towards the hanger, checking to make sure her route was secure. The sweeping patrols were all scattered enough that she had no trouble getting there unseen. It was when she got to the hanger that she was a bit shocked by what she saw.

Hundreds of Covenant filled the hanger, of varied race. Roars of outrage resounded with shrill sobs of despair throughout the vast open room. All eyes were focusing out the shielded hanger doors, fixated upon large, burnt and burning metal pieces. At first, Hazel assumed they were looking at parts to ships, or even a world that perhaps the UNSC had nuked to hell, but she was wrong. While what she saw was definitely large enough to be a planet, it seemed to be scattered pieces to some sort of giant circular construction, best guessed to be space station.

The sound of footfalls behind her drew her attention and she slipped into the hanger a little further, taking cover beside a parked and stowed Wraith. A group of Elites strode past in majestic red and blue armor, their weapons already in hand as they bobble-headed their way over to the others. The one in red barked for them to silence and take their personal grief and anger elsewhere.

“We are all devastated by the loss of the Sacred Ring! It is as the Prophets said! The humans that defiled its surface destroyed it to keep us from starting on the path! These vile, heretical, demons will stop at nothing to impede our Journey! We must find the ones aboard the ship and make them suffer a fate worse than death!” He bellowed in a commanding tone.

Sacred Ring? Humans destroyed it hmm? Hazel mused at the idea that her brethren had dealt a crushing blow to the Covenant. Her rumination quickly came to a stop as she bore witness to what was outside the bays now. Beyond its luminescent field, lie hundreds, if not thousands, of ships. Amidst them was the largest vessel Hazel had ever laid eyes upon. It was a massive, mushroom shaped station that had a long antennae sticking out from the bottom. The top half of the mushroom formed a hemisphere easily three-hundred kilometers in diameter. It’s cold, grey metal surface was crisscrossed with pale and light emanating from it at multiple points. At the apex, there was a brightly glowing blue light, surrounded by pie-slice, shaped hatches that seemed to form a circle when closed.

Banshees, Spirits, Phantoms, and Seraphs all lanced between the ships, like angry bees circling their hive. Hazel felt her heart pounding in her chest as she gazed upon the gigantic fleet beyond. Not even while on Reach did she see so many Covenant ships in one place. Her original plan was out; she’d have to rethink her strategy. She activated the stealth generator she’d rigged to her armor’s power supply and dashed back into the corridor and made her best time for her hidey-hole.

She rushed over to the Lance Corporal and shook him awake. “Sleep time’s over, soldier. It’s time to move. Now.”

She hauled him up to his feet as he groggily tried to protest. “I ain’t movin! Jus’ lemee here tah die…”

Hazel drew herself up, her augmentations making her just as tall as the savage looking marine in her grasp. “Now you listen to me, and you listen good, marine! You are walking out of this with me, alive! Do you understand me? I’m not leaving anyone else behind!”

The man regarded her for a moment before giving a gruff snort, “Semper Fi.”

Two, small words to some, but their meaning wasn’t lost on Hazel. “That’s right. Reach is gone, and now more than ever humanity is going to need ever last able-bodied soldier in the fight. Lock and load your weapons marine, and then get ready for a piggy back ride.”

She didn’t know if it was her speech that made the difference, or just the idea of escape that gave David his strength, but in that moment, he demonstrated the heart of a soldier - of a Spartan. “Yes ma’am!” He gingerly moved over to the stockpile of weapons and dug out a plasma pistol, crudely jamming it into the half ripped pocket of his fatigues’ pants. He also claimed another plasma rifle from the stockpile and held it to, checking the charge. “Green, ma’am.” He announced after a moment.

Hazel nodded to him and walked over to grab hold of several of the plasma weapons, and without explaining, began emptying their charge against the side casing of the plasma tubing for their torpedo. David stared at her for a moment, before finally asking, “What are you doing?”

Hazel tossed aside a spent pair of Plasma Pistols, moving to scoop up the rifle. “Leaving the Covenant a little surprise.”

It didn’t take long for the marine to follow what she’d hinted at, as he watched her combined fire of all the weapons begin to slag away the casing on the tubing that was used to guide Plasma torpedoes that were fired. Designed to guide the blasts of super-heated plasma, the insides were resistant to it, but not the outside. She slagged it down to the final layer before kicking in the last piece. She then proceeded to jam the weapons and methane tanks into the aperture she’d created, so that if the Carrier tried to fire off a Torpedo, it’d instead impact the debris inside the cylinder and detonate inside the ship.

David did his best to help, but it was obvious that he was still drained from everything that’d happened to him. She knew better than to call attention to his missing arm, and simply let him work at his own pace. Until finally, the task was complete.

“Okay, that should do it.” She announced, extricating herself before moving towards him, turning and crouching in front of him.

“So what’s the plan, exactly?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

She glanced over her shoulder, “I’ve rigged a stealth generator to over-charge it’s output enough that it should encompass you as well as me and render us both virtually invisible.”

“Are they designed to do that?”

“Not usually, but my armor’s shield system generates enough power to push it beyond its normal limits. Needless to say, we won’t have a lot of time once it’s activated. It’ll be for use as short-term stealth.”

He didn’t look convinced, “And where is this short stealth going to take us?”

She shook her head, “I told you. You won’t like it.”

“I already don’t like it.”

Hazel chuckled softly at that, “Then you’ll hate this even more.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“As best as I can for winging it.”

“And you can’t explain it because….?”

She sighed, making another motion towards her back, “Get on. We’re going to the hanger. There are all kinds of ships flying around right now, and with the IFF transponders I acquired, I plan to use them to blend in with a mess of other ships. From there, the goal is to board a smaller vessel and covertly take control of it, in an attempt to slip to a UNSC controlled world or dock.”

He groaned as he moved to her and straddled her back, wrapping one arm over her shoulder and keeping the Plasma Rifle at the ready - as best he could. “You’re right. I don’t like it. What about the Cole Protocol?”

“I said UNSC controlled. I didn’t say a safe port of harbor.”

“This plan seems less and less sane to me. You’re saying you want to jump to a world that’s currently at war with the Covenant, in one of their ships, and what, hope you’re not the first to catch a Mack round?”

“One step at a time Lance Corporal. Right now, we still have to board a vessel in the hanger and get out without being spotted.”

“Great… And how are we supposed to do that?”

“Now, now. I can’t give away all my secrets.”
He let out another groan as Hazel hoisted him up and marched him out, hopefully not to their deaths. A credence coming to mind, as she thought back to Carter’s words on Reach. Wouldn't be a Noble mission if it were easy. She recited in her head fondly. I might not have died with my team, but I’ll damn sure make them remembered.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Remember Reach