Chapter Text
July 24th, 2552, 07:28 hours.
Planet Reach, Viery territory.
Cyrus sat in the passenger seat of a Trooper transport class Warthog, her armored body shaking with each bump or pothole they ran over. She cradled her helmet in her lap, her fingers tapping against the metal blast visor. Her silver blew in the wind against her pale skin. She looked down at her helmet, her fingers subconsciously tracing over the Norse symbol for GUNGNIR that was painted onto the blast visor. Though her expression remained stoic and her eyes remained dead, her thoughts were swirling inside her mind in a nervous wreck. She was being pulled from her work as a Lone Wolf, the Office of Naval Intelligence’s Grim Reaper, and being deployed into a fireteam of five other Spartans she had yet to learn the names of. Occasionally, she noticed the driver of the Warthog side-eye her in what she assumed was an attempt to get a better look at the scar on the side of her head. In her discomfort, she lifted her helmet back up and placed it over her head. As the darkness of the helmet swallowed her up, the camera flickered on, and her vision was restored. She did a quick systems check, making sure her armor’s energy shields and other abilities that ONI had built into her armor were in working order. Eventually, the Warthog approached a small UNSC outpost, and it rolled to a stop.
“Here’s your stop, Spartan,” the driver of the Warthog informed. Cyrus nodded in a silent thanks and hopped out. She began to walk to what appeared to be the command building, her metal boots kicking up loose dirt as she walked. She passed by a landed Falcon, taking note of the male Spartan who was sitting inside of it. He was bald, with pale skin and blue eyes. He wore forest green Scout-class armor and had a tattoo of a fist holding a bundle of arrows on the side of his head. From the way he was loading bullets into the mag of a Sniper Rifle, she took him to be the team’s sniper.
Cyrus stepped up the stairs to the Command Center and immediately heard a male voice speaking from what seemed to be a Commlink.
“Contact with Visegrad Relay was lost last night. All signals flatlined at twenty-six hundred hours. I responded with trooper fireteams, which have since been declared MIA.”
“And now you’re sending us,” another male said, and as Cyrus stepped into view of the inside of the Command Center, noticed the male who was responding to the one on the commlink. He had black hair that was shaved to fade towards the base of his head and wore dark blue Commando-class armor. She could not see his face, however, as he was turned towards the digital screen that contained the commlink.
“The Office of Naval Intelligence believes deployment of a Spartan team is a gross misallocation of valuable resources. I disagree.” the voice over the comms replies. Cyrus can get a better look at the digital photograph of the person, whom she recognizes to be Colonel Urban Holland. She was introduced to him via comms before her departure to Reach. She took another step into the Command Center, and an arm shot out to block her path. It took Cyrus a few seconds to realize the arm was mechanical. A female Spartan stepped into view. She had tanned skin paired with black hair and blue eyes, and she appeared to wear an Air Assault class armor in the color Cyan. She glared up at Cyrus for a moment, then turned to the Spartan in Commando class armor. “Commander?” she spoke, her voice thick with a Slavic accent.
“So that’s our new Noble Six,” a male Spartan said. He was sitting next to the Commander, and holy shit was he huge. He had slightly tanned skin and brown eyes, his black hair starting to show grey hairs, and he was equipped with pale orange Grenadier-class armor.
Sitting on the other side of the room next to the female Spartan was a male Spartan who looked to be wearing a mix of EVA and Security class armor pieces. He held a Kukri blade in his left hand and appeared to be sharpening it on his right shoulder pad, and his EVA class helmet had a skull design etched into it. He stopped sharpening his Kurki once he noticed Cyrus however.
“Kat,” he spoke up, “You read her file?”
“Only the parts that weren’t covered in black ink.” the female Spartan said, “which was almost all of it,” she added after a few seconds. The team commander turned his attention to Cyrus, but for only a few seconds before he turned his attention back to Colonel Holland. “Anyone claim responsibility, sir?” he asked.
“ONI thinks it might be the local insurrection. Five months ago, they pulled a similar job on Harmony,” Holland replied, “hit a relay to take out our eyes and ears, then stole two freighters from dry-dock. That cannot happen here. Reach is too damn important. I want that relay back online, Noble One.”
“Sir, consider it done,” the commander replied.
“Then I’ll see you on the other side. Holland out.”
“You heard him,” the commander said as the Colonel disconnected the call from his end. The others stood up, the two without helmets on putting theirs on and stepping out of the Command Center. The commander turned around and approached Cyrus, who walked over to meet him.
“Lieutenant,” the commander said, reaching his right hand out for a handshake.
“Commander, sir,” Cyrus replied, shaking his hand. The commander pulled his hand from hers and put his helmet on. “I’m Carter, Noble team’s leader. That’s Kat, Noble Two, Emile and Jorge, Four and Five. You’re riding with me Noble Six.” Carter said, motioning for Cyrus to follow him.
“Now I'll tell you this Six,” Carter started to say as they were walking out, “You’re stepping into some shoes the rest of Noble would rather leave unfilled. Me, I’m just glad to have Noble back up to full strength.” They exited the Command center and climbed into the same falcon as the bald male Spartan from earlier. “Now I’ve seen your file, even some of the parts ONI’s censors didn’t want me to. I’m glad to have your skillsets, but that Lone Wolf stuff stays behind . We run as a pack here. Am I clear?”
“Got it, sir,” Cyrus replied.
Carter nodded his head to the bald Spartan, who had put his helmet on. “That’s Jun, Noble Three,” he said.
“Welcome to Reach,” Jun said as the Falcon took off.