FanFic: UNSC Dropshock

Hello.

This is a fan fic I’m putting together to create a way to tie the Halo 4 clan I am part of into Halo Cannon.
Enjoy!

Prologue

“…That’s not going to work!” Validus yelled over the com, his voice drowned out by plasma fire and explosions. Three AV-14 hornets screamed overhead in the opposite direction, momentarily slowing Zell’s pace. He was running over a rocky outcrop towards the edge of the cliff, an unconscious marine slung over his shoulder.[/color]

“You got any other ideas then? I’m running out!” Zell barked back as he approached the precipice. He stopped and glanced over the edge. Val was right. There was no way he could make that drop. The jet pack attached to his armor did not have the thrust capacity to slow both him and the marine. He needed a new plan.

Suddenly his motion tracker had a ping. A single red dot was closing from behind, quickly. Zell helped the marine off his shoulder and settled him down leaning against a rock. He spun around quickly, expecting to see the contact and saw nothing. “Damn, Val I think I have a problem here…”

Zell squinted and tried to zero in on what the contact had been. Then he saw it… “Hey Val, buddy, you there?”

Less than a metre before him stood the shimmering outline of a Sangheili- or Elite as the marine would call it. “Ah… Val…?” The Elite stepped forward, his active camo flickering slightly. There was a slight crackle of static as the Elite activated its energy sword. -Yoink-.

Just as the elite was stepping forward with its sword raised, there was a rustle in the shrubs just behind it. Validus charged forward, surprising the seven foot alien and knocking it off balance. It roared in anger as Val moved behind it again and swung its plasma sword wildly. Val saw it coming, stepped within its reach and swung his elbow up sharply to hit the elite in the back of the head. The elite grunted and turned to face its new opponent.

Zell seized the opportunity to push his foot into the rear of what humans would have called the elite’s “knee”. This was enough to stagger the Elite forward just as Val managed to land a round house kick to its face. Zell could feel the elites neck snap from the impact of Val’s Mjolnir armor against its face. Its mandibles went limp, the energy sword fell from its hand and its active camo flickered out. The lifeless monster fell to the ground with a thump.

"Ugly -Yoink-…"Zell said, looking over the Elites corpse.

“Ugly -Yoink- that almost had you eh?” Val joked, as he bent down to retrieve the elite’s energy sword.

“I just thought you could do with the exercise,” Zell returned, nudging the elite with his foot.

Chapter 1.

February 22nd 2558,
5 Months after the events of Halo 4.
Sol System.
UNSC Command Dock, Earth’s Orbit

“There was nothing I could do about this Cal. You know how it goes with the top Brass. They make a decision and we go with it,” the Lieutenant Colonel Vitamin said, staring out the viewing window at earth. A massive brown wasteland some 256km in range almost covered the North American continent and was clearly visible from orbit. The area the Didact had hit with the Index upon attacking Earth some 5 months prior had been decimated. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then turned to face Major Callisto, his protege and trusted friend over the course of his military career.

“We do what we are told, for the good of humanity, and it seems we are at something of a crossroad,” he said, turning from the sight of the place he once called home and taking a seat at his desk. “We’ll…no point dragging this out Cal. I’ve already sent in the paperwork, she’s all yours now.”

Major Callisto cocked an eyebrow and then swallowed hard as the news sunk in.
“You’re giving me command of the Dropshock?” he asked when he felt he could manage it.

“Yes, Yes I am. You know her crew and you know her. I couldn’t pick a better man for the job. If you have any objections feel free to tell someone else because there is no way I’m leaving my baby in the hands of anyone else,” Vitamin replied, his eyes locked onto Callisto’s.

Callisto glanced past Vitamin to gaze out the viewing window at Earth for a moment before returning his eyes to Vitamin. He felt like asking where Vitamin was going, but knew the man he had called commander and friend could not answer.

Three months ago they were drafting a scouting run over the rebel colony of Nymeria V. Word had come down that the UNSC Infinity was preparing to return to Requiem, the Forerunner planet that had led to the discovery of Sierra 117 and a Forerunner Commander, the Didact.

The battle lasted mere days until Spartan 117 was able to halt the destruction of Earth and again, save human kind from extinction. Many had died in the conflict though, and some of those faces flashed into Callisto’s mind, one after the other. So many lost.

Extinction to Callisto was nothing new. He had faced it many times before. Whether that be from a parasite infestation, an aggressive collection of alien races or ancient artifacts laying dormant across the Galaxy.

“When do you ship out?” Callisto finally asked, noticing Vitamin’s gaze still on him.

“As soon as possible,” Vitamin replied “They have an escort on station. When I’m ready I give them a call and I’m gone. You know how it is with ONI.”

Callisto nodded. He had prior dealings with ONI and knew that the highest security institution in the UNSC did like their shadow tactics, secrets and keeping things on a need to know basis.

Vitamin stood up, and Callisto matched him. Vitamin extended his hand for a hand shake and Callisto obliged.

“Good luck- Commander,” Vitamin said briskly. “There is a mission briefing on your com terminal in my, well your cabin now I guess…” he added, trailing off. The Dropshock had been his home for many years. It was hard to leave, knowing that he might never be back. He’d come to respect every single Spartan under his command, and could not have asked for a better crew. He was leaving them in capable hands though. The Major had been his second in command, and the promotion to commander was well deserved.

Callisto snapped Vitamin a solid salute, which Vitamin returned. He then spun on his heels and walked out of the office, the automated doors closing behind him. In the space of a few minutes Callisto had gone from a Major among the Spartan 4’s on board the UNSC Dropshock to the Commander of the entire ship. It was a lot to take in. Damn, he needed a Baileys.

It would be the last time the two would see each other for a very long time.

Recruit

The UNSC Dropshock left slip space, emerging from a dark void of purple and black into a sea of stars. The rip closed behind it, leaving no trace of the cosmic event.

“Serina, can you confirm Tau Ceti’s distance and plot us a course. Keep us well away from it, but close enough to take a peak at the surface,” Callisto said as the blast shielding began to scroll away from the viewing window directly in front of his chair on the command deck.

“Course plotting now Commander,” a cool, feminine voice echoed out from one of the speakers on the command deck. The Holo panel in the middle of the deck lit up and produced a 3D holographic display detailing the location of the Dropshock and the planet Tau Ceti. “Approximately 6 hours until we have reached a distance capable of scanning the planet,” Serina projected.

Callisto studied the flight course and nodded." Nice work Serina. Contact Cashmere, Raygun and Yeo. Get them up here on the double," the commanding officer said to the ship as he walked towards the viewing window. He looked out beyond the stars at the distant planet that would be Tau Ceti.

Private JimJam walked through the wash deck and past the recreation deck. His head was freshly shaved and his neural link still itched a little, but he was happy to be there. After the events that took place some 5 months ago, it sure seemed like everything was “up there” again.

Just as soon as ONI and the UNSC had commissioned the UNSC Infinity and made a promise that humanity would never have its back to the wall again, the Didact had appeared, and once again the human race was battling for its very survival. JimJam had applied for the Spartan 4 program well ahead of all that, however he had been concerned that recent events may have prevented him from getting on board the UNSC Dropshock, the one place he wanted to be more than any where else.

Somehow everything had worked out for him and he had been accepted aboard the Dropshock without an issue. He had been placed in Golf Platoon under the command of First Sergeant RayGun and today was his first practice with his new platoon.

JimJam stopped when he reached what he had been looking for. Before him was a new wing on board the Dropshock, the smell of paint and plastic still lingering in the air. Above the doorway to the wing was a large sign still being put up by three men who he assumed were technicians. Even half up JimJam could make out the words. War Games.

One of the technicians noticed him standing at the doorway and approached him.

“Are you here for Golf’s practice?” the technician asked.

“Ah, yeah. They told me 8am sharp,” JimJam replied.

The technician nodded and pressed a button on his com pad. The sliding doors for the War Games deck opened swiftly and quietly. JimJam walked inside.

Raygun was waiting for his shields to recharge, but there wasn’t enough time. Cashmere and Gladdy were bearing down on him. He managed to jump over Cash, but Gladdy got by him and before he could turn had tackled him to the ground. His friend was about to stab him in the neck when suddenly everything went black, save for the score board. There was a slight tingling feeling and Ray was back in the game, re-spawned back into the map. He hit the com pad inside his helmet with his chin, bringing up the player list. JimJam had just joined the session.

“Hi JimJam,” Cash said over the com, beating Ray to it.
“Hey mate,” Ray added.

“Way to lag me out of an assassination, noob,” Gladdy joked.

Before JimJam could reply there was another slight static feeling and a voice echoed inside each helmet. GAME OVER. Everything went black again.

JimJam came to, his eyes rolling back into focus. He was lying down on a platform, secured by clamps around his wrists and ankles. His vision returned and a techie pressed the release button near his head. The restraints came loose and a neural coupling retracted from the back of his head. He sat up, looking at the rest of the room’s occupants.

Raygun was already standing up, using a towel to wipe sweat from his forehead. He approached JimJam who was still finding his feet.

“Bit jarring the first time eh?” Ray asked, his Kiwi accent more pronounced this time. He passed JimJam a towel before chucking his at Gladdy. “Be nice to the new kid,” he said, grinning, and Gladdy grinned back.

JimJam grabbed the towel and looked around the room. There were hundreds of platforms all similar to the one he had been lying on. The War Games simulation created a virtual reality training program for the Spartans or any UNSC officer who had the required neural uplink. The small processor on the back of the Spartans skull allowed their armor and any AI uplink to be installed and accessed from the frequencies given off by their brain. It was one of the reasons the Spartans could move so quickly.

Cashmere walked over to Raygun to shake his hand in farewell.

“Nice practice mate, but I have to go,” he said to Golf’s leader, tapping a personal data pad as he moved to the door.

“Wait, aren’t you First Lieutenant Cashmere? Why were you here in the first place? Aren’t you in Oscar Platoon… Sir?” JimJam asked, belatedly realising he was addressing a member of command.

The Lieutenant just grinned. “I like to come down here and beat Golf to a pulp every now and then. Keeps them modest.”

Several others laughed, and JimJam recognised Slaayz, Validus, Vince and Atlas from his platoon briefing. It seemed that none of them was offended. Cash really was that good apparently.

Cash winked at him and JimJam stared. He had never expected the officers to be so friendly. “Cal’s after me. Not sure what it’s about but I guess I’ll find out,” Oscar’s commanding officer said as he left the War Games Deck.

JimJam watched him leave and then turned to RayGun.
"Uh, was I late for practice or…?”

Raygun cut him off.

“Nah bro, we were just having a warm up game on Simplex,” Ray motioned towards a large LED screen display on the far wall.

“We have a few games to go before practice is over mate,” Ray added as he walked back over towards his link. A technician moved to assist him.

JimJam laid back down and his technician re-aligned the neural insertion and tightened the straps on his wrist and ankles again. There was a sharp sting followed by that feeling of static again as his vision went black, and then lit up again as he found himself standing on a grassy field in a massive rocky canyon. Ragnarok.