- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Before you read this I would like to get in a few words, I know their is no "Spartan 058" in the Halo books, but I felt I needed to create a new character so I wouldn't have to follow any certain mood or actions of a certain Spartan. With that said I hope you enjoy the first page and a half of this and all criticism is welcomed.
Edit: I'ts weird, but I accidently duplicated the number. Spartan 058 turns out to be Linda, whats weird about it is I used the numbers of my B-day 1990=0 May=5 May 8th=8 so I assumed it was full proof, anyways I'll change the number later.
SPARTAN-391: Rise of a soldier
<Military Calendar: 2549 - May 8th>
<1432 hours - exiting Slip Space>
< UNSC Destroyer: Dauphin>
< Alto-Aster system>
1st Lieutenant Erik Anthony, or as he was designated in the Spartan II Program, SPARTAN-391, stood stock still in his alien like pearilescent green battle armor as if he were chiseled out of marble in the bridge of the UNSC destroyer Dauphin, now plotted on a direct course towards the colonial protectorate planet of Cenemela. In his briefing the Spartan had learned that the planet had recently been attacked by a pair of Covenant destroyers. Each accompanied by a threesome of Covenant Cruisers, but somehow the UNSC had beaten them back and managed to completely annihilate a destroyer and 1 cruiser. In their rush the Covenant had deployed thousands of ground troops to neutralize the four MAC cannons stationed on Cenemela’s surface and were unable to be extracted before small Covenant fleet retreated into slip-space. Now Cenemela was left with an excess of 2000 Covenant troops on it’s surface, and it was the Spartan’s task to kill every single one of them, a task he looked forward to. He watched and used his suits visual enhancing software to get a better look at the planet from the viewing screens. All he had to do was slightly concentrate on a certain image and his suit would detect his eyes attempting to focus and do it for them. He spotted UNSC clean up vessels compiling the remains of a fair amount of ships above the planets “north pole”, were the gravitational pull would be the weakest limiting the possibility of the debris slipping into orbit. He watched them collect the debris for a few more uninterrupted minutes before Captain McZee’s rough, scraggly voice crackled over his private COM channel. “ETA to Cenemela is 30 minutes, Lieutenant, I want you and your squads packed up and ready for combat by then.”, “understood, sir” the Chief replied in his usual metallic tone. At this he turned on his heel, and, passing several ensigns, exited the bridge and headed straight for the armory. While walking at a brisk pace down the titanium B halls he contacted his designated Second Squad leader. “I want satellite images, map layouts, whatever you can get me on a eight mile radius around the landing zone and have squad 3 and the rest of your squad meet me in the armory in 5”, their came a quick “yes sir”, but something was bothering the Spartan – why would the Covenant disengage and leave over 2000 troops on the surface? Unless it was planned – he thought to himself. This troubled him, was the Covenant planning some kind of trap? Were they going to return with reinforcements? And if so, how soon and how many? All of these questions were buzzing around the Spartans head obscuring his other and more pressing thoughts, he quickly realized this and banished the distraction – whatever the Covenant are planning I’ll deal with when it comes – he thought to reassure himself, and a few seconds later the double doors of the armory hissed open and the officer was standing in the armory. This was his favorite place of any ship or planet. Here he felt secure no matter what the circumstances, a comfort he rarely experienced. Here the tone of his voice slightly softened and his walk became a little less stiff and mechanic, but these changes were only noticeable to another Spartan with enhanced reflexes, hearing, and sight and no one else. Not even Dr. Halsey he thought to himself with certain amusement. He walked over to the rows and rows of freshly manufactured UNSC MA5B Assault Rifles. He gingerly picked one up and examined it, then took 10 clips from the ammunitions locker below it and slid a magazine into the receiver with a soft metalic clack as it locked in place, but did not load a round into the chamber. Instead be switched the safety on and set on a nearby prep table.
[Edited on 2/11/2006]