Here is a Halo based Fan Fic I wrote, hope you enjoy!
0754 Hours, July 27, 2532 (Military Calendar)
Crash Site Zero Area Foxtrot Two Two
The rain was falling ever so slightly; the recovery team was sifting through the searing crater. A cold wind howled through the valley, and the trees rustled with life, although there was no sign of it here.
"Sir I found something over here!"
Lieutenant Combs looked up for a moment at the Marine, noticing the burnished object in the Marines hands.
"It's the black box, play it…"
The soldier activated the box, linking it to the local com channel. Voices echoed in the Marines helmets…
"…Sarge the systems are failing, we're coming in too fast!"
The nearby Marines stopped what they where doing, bowing there heads in silence.
"Cut the engines! Pull the flaps up…, gentleman prepare for impact!"
Screams of men resonated through the coms, static erupted through the headsets of the working Marines.
"Shut it down, collect the box and label it for shipment to Sector seven. Men, keep working, no sign of them yet!"
1235 Hours, July 26, 2532 (Military Calendar)
UNSC ODST Team, En Route to Area Foxtrot Two Two
The humming sound of the duel turbo engines succumbed the ship into silence, the pilots manipulated the controls and the ship rocked slightly as the boosters kicked in and the flaps initiated. Aboard the Pelican class transport, where twelve ODST, "HellJumpers," each one going through a systematic ritual of cleaning and reloading their rifles. The operation seemed simple enough in the briefing report, but the cynical way command wrote up the missions showed in the attitudes of the harden Marines.
Specialist Rock was glancing out the rear of the Pelican, his stomach was uneasy with anxiety, thumbing over again and again in his mind, the details of the mission at hand. A voice came across Rock's com, sundering his thought.
"ETA five minutes, kill radio communication until we reach the LZ."
0758 Hours, July 27, 2532 (Military Calendar)
Crash Site Zero Are Foxtrot Two Two
The rain started falling harder now, steam resonating from inside of the crater. Pieces of the craft were being moved to nearby offload ships, each being tagged before disposal. Although no bodies had been found yet, death lingered in the humid air around the working Marines. This hadn't been Lieutenant Comb's first recovery mission, but the relationship to the crew made it harder than previous ones. It's always the usual protocol, first they are sent in as a Search and Rescue team, only having an optimistic attitude before they see the crash site, after then it goes down hill, fast. For the most part, the recovery team was an unsentimental group, desensitized from previous efforts. Seeing fallen Marines is never painless, but as time goes on, you learn to deal with the pictures combat paints around you.
1237 Hours, July 26, 2532 (Military Calendar)
UNSC ODST Team, En Route to Area Foxtrot Two Two
Rock was a young man, barely out of special warfare training, only facing real combat during the invasion of, Harvest. The incident there was the UNSC's first encounter with them, though. His unit didn't know what they where up against, the enemies shear strength in numbers ostracized the citizens of the planet, from life and death in mere hours. Specialist Rock knew their capabilities, the power they had, the technology they possessed was much more advanced than any Human colony could ever imagine. And now it was their turn, this mission could turn the tides of the war.
As the minutes rolled by, Rock gathered that familiar knot inside his stomach, nervousnous; he had received the best training the UNSC had to offer, he learned how to cover his man, how to operate the major enemy weapons that are commonly found on the battlefield, and for the most part, how to fight alone, as one with his unit. Yet his training still dismissed the fact on how to deal with a combat environment. But after all, the military isn't known for their sensitivity.
Rock peered down at his boots for a moment, still lost in thought, with an ever growing knot inside him. His boots glimmered from the illustrious light gleaming from the water below his transport. He looked up, glancing at the other eleven soldiers in the carrier. Directly in front of him was his team leader, Gunnery Sergeant Scott. He had a face that Hates himself couldn't look though. His eyes were like a hawk, ever so diligent and yet so calm, there was a scar that blemished his face, originating from his chin just going past his left brow, a wound surely treated in the field. The familiar voice of the pilot came across the com channel.
"Activate HUDs, thirty-seconds Marines, good luck!"
Specialist Rock looked down again at the crashing waves below him, the glistening water had an eerie feel of comfort in it. He could see the smiles of his family; hear the laugh of his unborn son, and feel the warmth of his loving wife. A lone bird was gliding in the sky, hovering above the crashing waves, calling out in the distance, as if yearning for something more. Though still in the back of Rock's mind, he could see the horrors faced on Harvest, this was for them, his family, his memories; this was his fight.