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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
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~A/N~ Please rate and leave reviews. ^.^ I keep an eye on them and am even open to suggestions and ideas for the plot, so feel free to comment and definately rate!
~Beta'd by Envy~
Hazel worked her way through the thinning crowds in the hanger-bay with David still clinging to her back. She’d had to lower his rifle for him a couple times as she caught the weapon rising out of fear or anger. The pace she traveled at was painfully slow, moving from one bit of cover to the next. She knew she didn’t have unlimited resources, and she could feel the power draining from her armor. Despite this, she also knew that sudden motions were visible as the stealth camouflage generator struggled to keep up with bending the light around them.
Several times, the pair of human soldiers was forced to hold their breath as groups of mourning Unggoy ambled past, too close for comfort. For what felt like the fiftieth time, Hazel slowly put her hand on David’s forearm and lowered it back down to her armored chest. “Not unless I give the go ahead.” She breathed over her shoulder. “There’s no way they are distracted enough to overlook a weapon discharging.”
She felt the marine’s legs tighten around her waist, as he obviously wanted to protest. She understood how he felt. Every instinct from her very core screamed to draw her MA37 and let its bull-pup barrel scream its existence to the world - to cut down every alien in her path. Every instinct save one: survival. Not even a Spartan can cut down this many troops alone. She ruefully admitted to herself as she slipped the pair of them behind another parked Wraith tank.
They were so close to their target Phantom that Hazel could have probably thrown David into it, but she held, waiting. She watched their escape craft for easily two full minutes, scanning it for any signs of life. She felt the armor’s ankles jerk slightly, threatening to stiffen, and she knew she was out of time. The Spartan-III quickly moved the last bit of open hanger space into the side door of the open Phantom.
Too late, she realized there was indeed a straggling pilot in the small craft, but rather than be a hindrance, he seemed to be helping. The blue armored Sangheili pilot was starting the warm up procedure for the ship. Were she a religious person, she might have thanked God for her fortune.
Without a sound, the pair moved up near the cockpit’s entrance, and she crouched down to minimize their shrouded silhouettes. She was sure if she’d had her helmet, and by extension her HUD, that her power readings would be screaming in protest. She felt her arms starting to get heavier as the power supply seemed to be on its last leg. Come on, just a minute longer! She pleaded with her already taxed armor silently. To her dismay, she watched as a group of troops climbed aboard the Phantom behind them and take up positions in the vehicles mounted guns to aid in whatever search they were preparing.
The Phantom lurched and began to rise off the floor, and she could hear the Battlenet traffic from the cockpit giving a green light to their pilot. Hazel bided her time as best she could, but she knew she didn’t have long. Soon after leaving the vacuum sealed hanger, she watched her arms start to materialize in front of her. She had to act, and she had to act now. She gave David a soft pat on the arm before slipping out from under him and disengaging the energy draining stealth.
The pilot never even got the chance to notice. Without hesitation, Hazel was up from her crouch, knife drawn, and slitting the pilot’s elongated neck clean from one side to the other. The ship pitched forward as the pilot’s hands tilted the flight controls ahead, causing the artificial gravity generators to struggle to resist the centripetal force acting upon their craft. Even before he finished slouching, Hazel had spun about and pulled her assault rifle away from the magnetic plate, and sighted up the first unfortunate Unggoy to look up. The muted cough of the barrel cracked as she put a three count burst square into the creature’s bulbous head, shearing his methane breather and splattering blue blood against the doorway he guarded from his plasma turret.
David’s plasma rifle gave a high-pitched crackle of energy as he burned concentrated white bolts into the one on the starboard side. The super-heated spheres of energy burned right into the breath tank on his back and caused it to explosively decompress. The force of which caused the little creature’s chest to cave in as it hit the mounted gun and collapsed in a heap, rasping for breath it’d never find. Hazel hooked her gun back onto her back and quickly moved over to the controls, pitching the dead Sangheili to the floor. She slipped into the chair, her mind flashing back to training. She’d had to learn to pilot and understand almost all Covenant vehicles, and the Phantoms were no different.
She pitched the craft’s energy glyphs so that it leveled out its flight path, and she began to build speed away from the carrier. The scene was awe-inspiring. Her grey eyes flashed about as she looked through the space beyond. There were easily a thousand ships littering the black night sky of space, all gathered around the mushroom shaped space station from before. Even with all its majesty and size, however, it paled in comparison to the spectacle she’d only barely seen before. The structure she’d seen them grieving appeared to be one massive ring, so deep and large that it had mountains, oceans, and could have probably fit six Halcyon-class ships end to end with the depth.
It had been broken, segmented into several different pieces each blaring of burning light and energy. Water and rock gave way to zero gravity creating a kaleidoscope effect debris field around each glorious piece of the puzzle. The edges of the ring pieces burned as yellow, orange and red flames licked away at the surfaces, like scavengers picking at the wounds. If she were to say there were thousands of ships, she’d have to estimate that there were millions of Phantoms, Spirits, Banshees, and Seraphs streaking about through the wreckage.
Disarray is good, I can use that. She watched as David settled into the copilot’s seat, his plasma rifle held across his chest. She offered only the smallest of smiles to him, hoping to try and keep his spirits up. She plunged their craft through littered debris, flying in close to the destroyed ring world and weaving it in and out of sight of others. She’d expected them to call, or to ask where they were going, but it seemed that the militia was in complete chaos. The Battlenet was swamped with chatter from multiple different sources that drown out any tactical chatter.
Several of them sounded on the verge of open weeping, while others spoke of retribution and heresy. Hazel weaved her craft between a few pieces of land mass, which she could only assume had been mountains before the ring’s destruction, and spotted her prey. Hovering in the night sky, near the planet, was a smaller Corvette. While slightly larger than a UNSC Frigate, this relatively weak ship was ripe for the picking. Its “double-hull” assembly was vaguely oblong, unlike the reoccurring hull design common in all other Covenant Warships. The vessel’s glinting purple hull reflected the lights of all the stars, planet, and glowing pieces of the ring, and it’s central raised, and rounded spear-tip shaped hull added it’s own dull blue glow from multiple points along it’s surface. The lower, outlying hull curled around it, reminded Hazel of ancient hovercraft vehicles, with the rounded dais looking as if it were used to keep the vessel afloat on the ethereal, stellar “waters.”
She pitched her small skiff down under the ventral section of the ship, looking up to see that its compliment of Banshees and Seraphs had been exhausted, leaving a nearly empty hanger bay. Instead of going into the cramped hanger, however, she slowly circled upwards towards the dorsal loading bay. “Okay, lock and load Marine… we’re going to swing around and use the gravlift to lower ourselves in the loading bay on top of this thing. Once inside, follow my lead, and stay low.”
David gave a solemn nod of his broad, square head and checked his plasma rifle’s charge, but said nothing.
Hazel let the ship slowly list around the other before picking up speed to close the gap. The sight of the Corvette’s topside caused a crushing sensation around her heart. She realized the last time she’d been about to enter one of these things’ energy fields like this, she had been in her Sabre, preparing to use it in Kat’s plan to destroy a Super Carrier. The thought of Jorge’s light brown eyes transfixed on hers sent another twinge of guilt through her mind and heart. If only she’d insisted they wait a bit longer, talk it out, denied him his chance to be selfless and end his life, they might have spotted the Covenant fleet and scrapped the mission - escaped together.
Fat lot of good that would have done. She bitterly accepted, remembering the fate of the rest of Noble. She glanced over and realized that she must have let her emotions show on her face. David was giving her a sort of puppy-dog look of concern that she waved off. “It’s nothing. Just remembering a former mission.” She stated evenly, already missing the veil of amnesty that her mirrored visor had given her before.
She pulled back on the throttle as they got close, slowing it down as she swept their Phantom under the archway that bisected the energy field’s opening, the counter movement jets expelling their bits of ionized plasma. Together, she and David moved over to the gravlift’s portal, and she activated the field, getting ready. They both stood on the edge looking down into the empty landing bay room below. “Ready?” He finally asked.
“It looks clear; I’m going to have you go down first. Take cover by those supply crates there, and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Yes Ma’am.” He stated with as much gusto as he could manage before stepping into the field and descending through the floor.
Hazel turned on the spot and rushed over to the controls, slapping the glyph that activated the skiff’s throttle and engaging it to full. She ignored the Battlenet communications that echoed from the Corvette’s bridge, asking the Phantom why it was where it was. She felt the ship’s engine’s surge and the skiff snapped to, but she wasn’t waiting.
She hastily rushed back and dove into the grav-field and began to descend through it with bated breath. She barely cleared the energy field that kept atmosphere inside the hanger before the gravity field was cut off by the edge of the Corvette’s open field, sending the Spartan into free-fall. She curled herself about in mid-air with a cat’s grace and getting her feet beneath her. The drop would have been enough to shatter a lesser person’s bones, but between her suit’s shields, powered joints, cushioning gel layer, and her own augmentations, it only caused a minor bit of discomfort when she hit and was driven into a crouch.
She didn’t waste any time freeing her MA37 and sprinting towards the containers she’d sent David towards, “Marine! On my six!” She barked as she streaked past. Her previous mission aboard one of these afforded her one more luxury: the knowledge of exactly where the command deck was. She cleared the doorway at a dead sprint, vaguely aware of his heavy footfalls behind her. The triple surfaced door parted in three directions as she got close, allowing her to bolt through.
There was a pair of Unggoy walking down a small ramp towards the hanger, obviously to investigate. She leapt at the pair as they startled back, but they didn’t have time to do anything. Her left hand was a blur of motion, yanking the combat knife from its chest level sheath and embedding it into the things neck. Simultaneously, she shoved the barrel of her bull-pup rifle into the other’s throat and squeezed off a three bullet burst, the hapless creatures own physiology working as her weapon’s sound suppressor.
The Spartan didn’t miss a step as she plowed up the ramp they’d been on, practically flying when she emerged into the bridge. A pair of Spec-Ops Sangheili turned to see what it was, but she was already opening up on the lead one. Her rifle held in both hands now, she watched the ammo counter begin to tick away as she kept him in her field of full-automatic fire. The MA37 was good at one thing to be sure: throwing bullets.
The ammo counter hit zero as the Ultra from the consoles communications station hit the deck, a mass of purple blood staining the floor beneath his lifeless body. The bridge at the ships helm, had a massive viewports that made up the ceiling structure, bisected by a angular purple part that gave the bow of the ship a look of having large ‘eyes.’ In the rooms’ center, there was a fifteen meter sphere that currently was filled with holographic images of the destroyed ring, the planet, and the circling Covenant control craft.
Normally, they had small barriers erected around the center control cluster that allowed them to repel attackers and use it as a siege point, but Hazel had come down on them too fast, and too hard. The five or six scattered “Ultra” Unggoy responded to the sudden death of their leader by screaming and scrambling for cover.
Only the two other Elites in the room responded in a militaristic fashion. The General at the ship’s apex spun around at the sudden sound, loosed his twin Plasma rifles from his belt and raised them to start shooting. The other, red-armored Elite pulled a Needler from his belt and took aim, letting out a volley of deadly pink projectiles.
Hazel never even slowed down. She kept at her dead sprint, angling so that the golden armored General was forced to try tracking her, bolts of deadly plasma superheating the air behind her and leaving a burned scent. A few of the bolts managed to graze across her, but her armor’s shielding shunted them aside as she cut across the bridge. The needles had a small ability to track and swerve towards their target, but they were notoriously slow, allowing her to put the central pillar between herself and the string of deadly explosives.
She emerged from the other side, already having slammed a new magazine home into her AR’s stock mounted breech. The ammo switched to a crisp thirty-two as she set the red-armored Elite in her sights and charged him. His attention shifted as several white-hot bolts of plasma burned into his side and over-charged his shields, causing them to collapse even before Hazel opened fire on him. She fired a quick pair of two shot bursts, all four bullets embedding into his chest before she leapt at him.
In a violent, powerful thrust, she brought the butt of her assault rifle up into the creatures split lipped lower jaw, shattering it completely and causing purple blood to fly off in a wide arch as his head snapped completely over his long neck. A wet crunch issued from his segmented spinal column, and he joined his equal as nothing but a lifeless lump on the dull purple deck.
The General let out a roar of fury and opened up on Hazel with both rifles in tandem, burning into her shields until the already weakened power supply fizzled and gave up on her. Two of the plasma bolts seared into her armored right shoulder, as she matched the charging General. Her AR began its baritone percussion as she emptied the remaining twenty-eight bullets into the ship’s leader, forcing his shields down as well. The two combatants had been charging at one another, and while she was empty, his plasma rifles both ejected their side panels, desperately venting heat.
He let out another defiant roar - a roar that was quickly cut short. With a precision that only came from years of practice, Hazel reached up to hook the empty rifle on her back with her left hand, while her right hand flew to her waist and seized the hilt of her confiscated Energy Sword.
The General’s eyes widened in shock, but his voice had faltered. A pair of shimmering, concentrated plasma blades had completely run his long neck through, severing his spine, arteries, and throat all in one powerful thrust. The sounds of discharging plasma weapons behind her caused the Spartan to throw all her weight to her left, sideways dive. She came down on her left shoulder, tumbling up over it and into a crouch. The still stunned General had been completely blown off his doomed feet by an overcharged plasma pistol shot. Hazel spun in place, seizing her Plasma rifle and bring it about in her off hand to burn down the Grunt who’d tried to be brave, if only for an instant.
The plasma tore through him as if his armor had been made of tissue, blasting out his back and causing him to tumble to the floor. A pair of feeble shots issued from his pistol in his tumble, more than likely just nerves responding to the fatal wound. A quick survey of the situation showed that three of the remaining Unggoy had already been gunned down by David, and a forth was hiding behind one of the two fin-shaped consoles that were on either side of the command deck.
Hazel came out of her crouch with explosive speed, closing the distance on the hiding Unggoy and impaling him to the console. As she did so, movement caught the corner of her eye and she turned, lifting the lifeless Grunt up with her plasma blades, and a trio of green plasma burned into her make-shift shield’s back. In a fluid motion, Hazel cast her weapon to her right, pitching the still twitching alien from her weapon, and brought her Plasma rifle to bear. She unloaded a quick flurry of white-hot plasma that hit the wide-eyed Grunt multiple times, before the ships artificial gravity pulled his lifeless corpse to the floor.
Hazel felt her eyes dart low and left, habit kicking in, as she would have normally checked the motion tracker embedded in her HUD. Instead, she spun around quickly, sweeping the area with her weapon and holding the crackling sword by her face. She moved out around the fin-shaped station slowly, to find David in a futile grapple with the remaining Grunt. What could have been an easy skirmish, had come to David hooking his plasma rifle arm under the Unggoy’s plasma pistol hand and was currently pinning it off to the side. Having only the one arm however, the Grunt was hammering him in the stomach and ribs with his hard little fist.
Unable to find a clear shot, the Spartan rushed ahead to her ailing comrade, her sword arching around to sever the final bridge hands’ head clean from his squat little shoulders. A glorious fountain of blue blood shot up from what remained, the adrenaline of his fight having sent the poor creature’s heart-rate to the maximum.
David fell away from his lifeless assailant, panting for breath and pressing his hand to his aching ribs. “Thanks.” He finally muttered in a defeated tone.
“Lock down the door to the hallway.” She stated in a cold, commanding tone. There’ll be time to mourn the loss of your arm later; right now I need you focused.
The instruction seemed to pay off, as he stood upright, “Yes Ma’am!” He turned to go over towards the door, having to discard his weapon to do so.
Hazel nodded, “Just a little longer, Marine…” She thought aloud, before turning and rushing over to the ship’s command console. The Covenant Battlenet was ablaze with strife, people screaming for order, and others trying to be heard in the midst. She caught a bit of a directive from the Wayward Soul that seemed to be them reporting that the ‘Demon’ had fled their ship in a stolen Phantom that was currently hurtling towards the planet.
She smirked lightly and shook her head. Sheer. Dumb. Luck. She hadn’t expected it to stay inert enough to actually look like it was going anywhere, but with the Covenant’s attention on a single, fleeing Phantom, it gave her all the time she needed to maneuver her ill begotten ship towards the planet, before angling it outward.
“Door’s sealed tight, Ma’am. Had to fuse some of the pieces together for any chance of it holding, but once they learn what we’re up to, I doubt it’ll take them long to get through.” David called over as he approached.
Hazel gave a nod as she accessed the Covenant’s coordinates for a world they’d already burned, but was shocked to see coordinates for Earth present. It was listed as a “Forerunner” location that they needed to investigate, and a quick search of the logs showed that one of the Prophets had already departed, heading up a small fleet. Hazel looked to David slowly, “The fight has moved to Earth. They’re going to need every able soldier they can muster… That’s where we’re going.”

David visibly stiffened at that, but stayed silent.

“Get us as fortified as you can, line weapons behind barriers and prepare for a blockade. We’re going to have to finish off the rest of our shipmates on our trip through slipspace.” She said solemnly, before punching up the coordinates for Earth.

Amidst the chatter, she heard calls to the Guru of Faith to explain why they were departing and under whose authority, but it seemed to be drowned out by other chatter. Well, at least now I know this boat’s name. The Spartan thought as she decided to finally use the trick she’d left aboard the Wayward Soul. Scrambling another message to the Battlenet from the ships com, she waited for a full second before new cries of dismay and confusion joined the already crowded din of chaotic voices.

“This is Wayward Soul! We are having multiple, catastrophic systems failures, and our reactor is venting coolant! We need assistance, now!” into the sea of shouting voices.

That ought to keep them busy for a while. She mused as she turned to start helping David with their preparations. Soon after, she felt the ship surge ahead, tearing a hole in the fabric of sub-space and transcending into slipspace.
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Remember Reach