Tales From Reach

[D-38 Boss]

Some of you may remember the Ground Zero, alternate story to ODST thing I had worked on.

 

Sad as it is to say, I have since scrapped that project, as I ended up writing myself into a corner.

 

So, instead, I started fresh, and where better to start, then Reach?

 

------

 

In the Epsilon Eridani system, Humanity is housed on the planet of Reach. Many men and women of this planet fought for bitter survival when the Covenant attacked, but inevitably met their doom. These are their stories. (DUNK DUNK! )

 

Many know the tale of Noble team, but this document is intended to shed light on the unsung heroes of the attack on Reach.

 

In the timeline of July 24^th 2552 to August 30^th 2552, millions of lives were impacted by the Invasion of Reach. This humble documentation will attempt to deliver a solid glimpse into the actions of those affected; some tragic, some triumphant, some trivial.

 

We begin our story two days before July 24^th. Obviously, July 22^nd. With Private Hector Rosario, of the 3^rd Marine Battalion.

 

This story has been accurately recreated using Rosario's own journal. The events within are seen from his point of view, and may, or may not, be true.

 

JULY 22^nd 1100 HOURS. REACH ORBIT.

 

Hector marched down the halls of the UNSC frigate Luna, searching for anything and everything that could keep him occupied. With the lack of any liquor, or loose women, it seemed this native of Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A., Earth would be disappointed.

 

“Yo! Rosario!” A familiar voice called from one of the many Rec Rooms. Hector turned to see his squad mates sitting, lounging around the various exercise equipment.

 

Rosario's squad; Razorback 3-2, was one of eight 4 man teams that made up Razorback Battalion; A Marine Force Recon group.

 

The team lead; 1^st Lt. Kayla Duran was thumbing through the pages of a magazine, not even glancing up at Hector as he exchanged greetings with the other two; Sgt. James LeMay, and Corporal Neil Hawthorne.

 

“What's shakin' Neil?” Rosario asked, plopping down on the bench of one of the weight lifting machines.

 

“What do you think, Hec'? Not a damn thing.” He sighed. “People keep whispering the word Covenant, but I think they're still riled up from Harvest and all.”

 

“Legitimate or not, HighCom takes any mention of the Covies seriously.” Duran said, flipping yet another page. “If it turns out to be a buncha bull, great. If not, they'll take the required actions to protect Reach.”

 

“I don't know about that, Ell Tee.” LeMay said, pushing his thick framed glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I mean... you heard about Harvest like the rest of us. How do you stop something like that?”

 

“By blowin' 'em to hell and back, then back again.” Rosario said, high-fiving Hawthorne.

 

“It's not that simple, Hector. They have WAY better tech then us. High frequency E.M. Shields and the like. The only way to bust through them is to put every damn thing you've got into them.”

 

“All I understood from that was 'shoot the crap out of them.'” Rosario said with a grin. “Bullets still kill these things. It's as simple as that.”

 

Rosario looked out of the window to Reach.

 

“Man... Why would anyone give a damn about that hunk of rock anyway? It's just a buncha farmers and Innies.”

 

“It was the UNSC's first extra terrestrial colony, Hec.” Duran sighed. “It's important to moral. Not to mention, Have you SEEN New Alexandria? That place is a sight worth saving.”

 

Hector sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Whatever, K'. It can't hold a candle to Chicago. Like, there was this one place I'd chill all the time-”

 

The blaring of alarms cut him short. The time for jokes was over. The four Marines rushed to their feet, following the pre-set emergency protocols; Secure your gear, find your squad, and get to your ready lines.

 

Razorback stood in full force, waiting for the Commander to give his briefing. The hangar completely silent as he marched out.

 

Commander Jordan Cabral stood before the gathered Marines of his ship.

 

“The situation is as follows. Roughly an hour ago, one of our sister ships went dark just at the edge of system space. They sent a final burst transmission, saying they were under attack by an unknown enemy. As intel is sketchy at the moment, we're to be on standby until called to action. You'll be boarding your transports, and orbiting the planet until we get that call. Move out!”

[Surveillance]

Wonderful start to a great story! Can't wait what happens next!

[D-38 Boss]

A hush of air as the pod bay depressurizes, the feeling of imbalance as your center of gravity shifts from the simulated ship to the real atmosphere of the planet. Your stomach rising in your chest as the sensation of falling is all you feel. The pure Fight-or-Flight rush of knowing the only thing between you, and becoming one with the dirt, is a few inches of steel. This is what Helljumpers live for; Plunging feet first into Hell.

- Anonymous

 

 

        The following is from the logs of ODST fireteam Havoc 1-4, comprised of four members; Captain Derek L. Jones, 1^st Lt. Christopher X. Lugo, Sergeant Tyler M. MacMillan, and Private Scott G. Haskell. Their role during the war on Reach was mostly one of combat throughout the city of New Alexandria, and the outlying area.

 

July 26^th, 2552, U.N.S.C. Argonaut

 

       The O.D.S.T.'s rushed to their pods, and began preparing for a routine drop. Only the elite of the O.D.S.T.'s could consider anything about plunging toward combat in an over-glorified steel coffin “routine”. Yet to most of them, this was anything but routine. They were dropping on Reach to fight the Covenant. Two words none of them even wanted to see in the same sentence. Now, they had to fight to protect a planet some of them considered home, even more so than Earth.

 

“Let's go, people. This is the big time!” Captain Jones barked into his comms. “Sound off!”

 

“Shadow is go, Cap'.” Lugo responded.

 

“Gunslinger is green.” MacMillan added.

 

“Replay here. Ready to rock.” Haskell chimed in.

 

“Alright.” Jones said, climbing into his own pod. “Cryptic is good to go. Havoc 1-4 is ready to drop.”

 

        The pods slid down into their launch bays. The techs beginning their final preparations. Jones took the time to issue some last minute orders to his squad.

 

        “No matter what, you stick to me. Got it? I don't want any of you getting lost in the furball out there.” he said, referring to the raging space battle being fought for orbital superiority. “Stay tight, and keep your trajectory directly toward New Alexandria. If we get separated, we regroup at RP Riding Hood. How copy?”

 

“Got it.” Lugo said, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He'd make it through this drop, just like all the others.

 

      “Solid Copy.” MacMillan nodded. He did a last second adjustment on his harnesses. The last thing he wanted was to bite it because he forgot to buckle up.

 

“Loud and clear.” Haskell said, his foot tapping out a beat only he could hear.

 

The lights died out, replaced by the dim red glow of a countdown above the pod's windshield.

 

Thirty seconds.

 

        Haskell got a tight grip on his harness, and clenched his jaw in an effort to steady himself. He polarized the lens of his helmet, if for nothing else than hiding the expression of fear from his team during the drop. Jones sighed, watching the count. This was routine for him. He didn't buy in to all the percentages and statistics. He knew the only reason Helljumpers died on drops was a mistake on their part, either pulling the airfoils to late or early, or overlooking a vital safety check. He and his team would be fine for the drop. It was what came after that concerned him. One of his team was a veteran, one was a talented rookie, and Haskell? Lord knows with him. Bottom marks in the academy, but his instructors swear he's talented.

 

Ten seconds.

 

        The outer bulkhead slid open. A hush took over the air as they entered the vacuum. The bursts of fire and plasma below, eerily quiet as the battle raged on. The only sound in the pods; The breathing of the four Helljumpers.

 

Three....

 

Two.....

 

One....

 

        The pods rocked as they burst forth from the ship. Hundreds of black steel pods filled the atmosphere, the famed and feared ODST “Black Rain”. Jones set his trajectory for New Alexandria, and his team followed suit.

 

“Tighten up, and stay as far from the Covenant Cruiser as you can.” Jones said.

 

        The Single Occupant Exo-atmospheric Insertion Vehicle, or SOEIV is the primary method of insertion for ODSTs. It allows for a single Helljumper to get in as fast as possible, and with a maximum chance of survival. That is of course, if they make it to the planet's surface.

 

“Lots of debris ahead, Cryptic.” Lugo said, using Jones' callsign.

 

“I see it.”

 

“Looks like it's all UNSC wreckage...” Haskell noted.

 

“Swing wide left of it, and reform over New Alexandria. We'll be in the atmosphere in 20 seconds.”

 

The four pods maneuvered past the wreckage, joining together just in time for re-entry.

 

“Make sure you blow the air foils between twenty and twenty-five thousand feet. To early and the foils'll blow off, too late and you'll be buried before your funeral, got me?” Jones barked.

 

“Roger.” MacMillan responded, setting his foils to auto-deploy.

 

         The pods rumbled as they passed through the atmosphere. Of the initial group, only a fraction made it through the space battle unscathed. The remainder formed up over New Alexandria.

 

        “Alright people, listen up!” The commander barked over the radio. “This is a Direct-action operation, with the sole purpose to protect the city of New Alexandria, and surrounding towns and villages. You're to secure your landing zones, and wait for further orders. Command out.”

 

Jones checked his Altimeter. 25,000 feet.

 

“Pop your foils, boys! We're in the sweet spot!”

 

“Deploying!”MacMillan responded, the others releasing their SOEIV's airfoils, slowing their descent.

 

Breaking through the cloud layer, they could see New Alexandria rising to meet them, smoke pouring from random buildings.

 

“Jesus...” Lugo muttered.

 

“Focus, Shadow. Tighten up, we're marked to land in the commercial district.”

 

“Sorry, Cap'. Just.... I grew up here, is all. It's hard to see it like this.”

 

“Then let's get down there and fix this situation.” Jones replied. “Brace yourselves! Impact in 5!”

 

        The pods crashed down in a parking structure in New Alexandria's Commercial district. The four ODTS's took a moment to clear the haze of adrenaline from their heads. Captain Jones stepped out of his Pod.

 

“Sound off!”

[Surveillance]

Absolutely wonderful. Write more nao

[D-38 Boss]

“We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”

 

-Winston Churchill
 

None were so affected by the attack on Reach than the planet's own people. The testament of the only surviving members of the town of Martinville, a small township a few miles outside of New Alexandria; is one of horror, trials, perseverance, and bravery. Outnumbered, and overpowered, they fought against the invaders to the bitter end. Of the 350 men and women who made up the population, only 3 survived; Members of the Martinville Militia.

 

The following is based on their personal accounts.

 

July 24^th, 2552

 

          Life on Reach was simple, Idyllic. The cities were bastions of civilization, the villages and towns; Pretty as a painting. Martinville was the latter. A small town based outside of New Alexandria, whose sole purpose was to repair and maintain the cities water supply. Of the population, a mere 20 or so men made up the Martinville Militia.

 

          Three men, life long members, spent their day doing little more than culling the local Moa population, and kicking back, drinking and feeling proud that they were so important to their hometown. The three; Gregory Landon, Philip Harris, and Troy Barker, had been friends since they were little, and had lived in Martinville their whole lives.

 

Sitting on a roof top perch, drinking and watching the sun set, the three couldn't have been more comfortable.

 

“You believe all that junk on the news about aliens?” Phil asked the others, before crushing his empty beer can, and retrieving another.

 

“You saw the same thing we did, Philly.” Greg replied. “I dunno what to make of it.”

 

“I think it's some Insurrectionist plot.” Phil said, cracking open the fresh beer. “They want to freak us all out, right? That way, while we're cranin' our necks lookin' to the stars for aliens, they stab us in the throat.”

 

“That's what you think?” Troy scoffed, sliding his DMR aside. “I thought you said it was a race of super advanced Moa last week?”

 

“I was drunk, okay?”

 

“Like always.”

 

An empty can bounced off of Troy's head.

 

“Jerk.”

 

        Troy hopped to his feet, jerking his head over to Phil with the intention of giving the inebriated man a well-deserved piece of his mind, but a loud rumble overtook the air, drawing his attention to the source.

 

        Two Falcons passed overhead. Troy snatched his spotting scope and looked over to the two choppers. Inside, he saw bulky looking, heavily armed military troops of some kind. The looked to be heading in the direction of the old Visigrad Relay.

 

“You guys notice a lot more soldiers moving around these days?” Troy asked.

 

“Maybe. But ain't they always meeting up for training exercises and stuff?” Phil said.

 

“At Visigrad?” Troy scoffed. “They'd break everything there!”

 

“What ever the hell they got there, any way... all hush-hush, top secret stuff. I bet that's where they spy on us from.” Phil said, a serious look in his eyes.

 

“Phil, do you ever listen to the crap that comes out of your mouth?” Greg asked.

 

“I'm not the one who needs to. If you two listened a lot more, you'd understand what I was talking about.”

 

“Look, Phil, we do listen. Moa's are NOT plotting to dominate Reach, There are NOT mole people under New Alexandria who only come out for dance parties, and there is No such thing as 'ONI'.” Troy said, finishing with a huff as he plopped back into his seat.

 

“You'll see. Trust me, when it all hits the fan, you're gonna be thankful I ain't abandoned you guys. You'll need what I know.”

 

“I'm sure that day's coming REAL soon, Philly.” Greg scoffed.

 

        The three sat in silence for a while, enjoying a moment of peace. However, all of them jumped at the continuous sounds of gunfire coming from the direction of Visigrad Relay.

 

“I told you it'd happen!” Phil shouted, jumping to his feet, and nearly falling off the roof.

“Calm down, Phil. The army boys are probably rootin' out some Innies or something. Nothing to worry about.” Greg said, reaching for another beer.

 

None of them could have guessed, although Phil probably speculated, the change that was coming.

[Zaguroth]

Zag likes dese things. I hope you expand on each little story o_o

[D-38 Boss]

Zag likes dese things. I hope you expand on each little story o_o

 

That was the plan.

[Guts]

These are amazing. Keep it up.