《Noble 7》


 Player One

    "Contact with Visegr¨¢d relay was lost last night. All signals flatlined at twenty-six hundred hours. I responded with trooper fire teams which have since been declared, MIA."


    "And now you''re sending us," Carter stated.


    Colonel Holland continued, "The Office of Naval Intelligence believes deployment of a Spartan team to be a gross misallocation of valuable resources. I disagree."


    Suddenly, from behind Carter, Kat interrupted.


    "Commander."


    Jorge raised his eyebrows and Carter turned to see what the big guy was looking at.


    "So that''s our new number six," Jorge said.


    "Kat," Emile called from where he sat on the floor sharpening his kukri. "You read her file?"


    "Only the parts that weren''t covered in black ink," she answered back.


    Carter looked over at the new addition. A slender figured female Spartan in white-on-pink Mjolnir powered assault armor and a CQC helmet stood there. She had at least a dozen fragmentation grenades strapped to her torso.


    Thom''s replacement.


    A brief image of the ''cowboy'' Spartan''s face came to mind but Carter quickly pushed it away. Allowing it to stay would be taking the first step of a painful stroll down Noble Team''s memory lane.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He had been made aware that the new Noble Six was en route in a call from CPO Mendez an hour or so before Holland had contacted him with the mission briefing. In the same call, Mendez confirmed that his request for a seventh Spartan on Noble team had been approved, and that Noble Seven would arrive in less than forty-eight hours. Apparently, Spartan-032 was currently leading a small team on a mission involving Insurrectionist Space Pirates that successfully captured a UNSC Frigate and crew near one of the outer colonies. He''d be reassigned upon his return to Reach.


    Carter turned back to Holland''s image on the screen in front of him.


    "Anyone claim responsibility sir?" he asked, getting back on track.


    "ONI thinks it might be the local insurrection. They pulled a similar job at Harmony a few months ago. Hit a relay to take out our eyes and ears and stole two freighters from dry-dock. That can''t happen here. Reach is too damn important. I want that relay back online Noble One."


    "Sir. Consider it done."


    "Then I''ll see you on the other side. Holland out."


    Carter picked his helmet up off the table and the other Spartans all grabbed their gear and dispersed. All except the pink one.


    "Lieutenant," he acknowledged.


    "Commander, sir," she spoke, clear and confident with a step forward.


    He introduced himself and the rest of the team, "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 slid on his helmet as he followed Emile out of the bungalow and said to Six, "I''m not going to lie to you lieutenant. You''re stepping into some shoes the rest of the squad would rather leave unfilled."


    Up ahead, the propellers on both UH-144 Falcons were starting to spin up. Carter and Six climbed into Jun''s Falcon, then Carter leaned out and signaled to the Falcon carrying the other half of the team to take off and sat down next to her.


    "Me, I''m just happy to have Noble back up to full strength. Just one thing. I''ve seen your file, even the parts the ONI censors didn''t want me to. Glad to have your skill set. But we''re a team. That lone wolf stuff stays behind. Clear?"


    "Got it, sir," she said.


    She looked over to Jun, and the sharpshooter simply said, "Welcome to Reach."

 Player 2

    My face, Seven thought as he stared at the sea foam green Hazop helmet he was holding in his lap. It was fitted with a CBRN Hardened Uplink Module for operations in extremely hazardous zones where the oxygen needed to be filtered. My true face. This was the face people recognized as his, not the one that was beneath the helmet. That was the real mask.


    He was currently on a UH-144 Falcon, being escorted to a small command outpost just outside of Visegr¨¢d. He was supposed to meet a group of next generation Spartans there.


    Life taker, he thought. How many countless lives had been taken, with this helmet being the last image they ever saw? Insurrectionists, space pirates, and Covenant alike. More than he cared to count. He was a death machine. But he was also a life saver, and of this he reminded himself. A field medical officer. This was the face that many who were on the brink of death saw intervene just as all hope ran dry. Seven estimated for every ten enemies he killed there was at least one civilian or soldier he''d saved, ODSTs on a few occasions and even his fellow Spartans. Still, he doubted this balanced the scales of his involvement with life and death.


    The Spartans never got too weird about it. It was mostly the civilians that showered him with an overabundance of praise that always made him a tad uncomfortable. He''d been called all sorts of biblical names by those he''s rescued. Shepherd. Savior. The most common nickname he was given was Angel. All way too extravagant and honorable as far as Seven was concerned. The way he saw it, he was a killer, no matter how heroic they tried to spin the act of murder when allowing them to be killed was the only other choice present.


    I''m only human, he found himself thinking for the thousandth time. Sure, he wanted to tell people. I wear a full metal suit of armor. I may be a little taller and perhaps a bit antisocial, but all that aside, I''m just like you. I had a family once too.


    He cursed his ideal genetics as he put the helmet on over his head and locked it in place. The Heads Up Display lit up and he relished in its familiarity. Seven had never gotten to know his birth family, but he''d been made a part of a much larger family of brothers and sisters, grown up with kids that were going through the exact same things he was. He''d heard somewhere that tragedy quells even the bitterest of rivalries, that it allows people to find a common ground and set side all previous animosity. If this was true, he doubted anyone shared as strong a bond as he did with the other Spartans.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Families, families, families.


    Seven just had to leave another one behind. Kate, Omar, and Rayna. He hoped they would be fine without him and knew deep down that they would. Now it was time to meet his new family. The A-listers, the starters, the star players. Noble Team. He was in the spotlight now, though he didn''t feel too intimidated. He was mostly preparing himself for the new role he''d have to assume. Seven was a medic, but he was also the previous leader of Dingo Team. He realized he was going to have to make some adjustments if he was going to be the ''key cog'' Noble Team needed, as his electronic reassignment documents so eloquently described the position. Full time medic, combat support wherever need be. A useful piece on the board, but still a piece nonetheless.


    Some adjustments would include keeping his inquiries and need for answers to himself and keeping tactical advice to a minimum, which would be the real challenge. As Dingo Team leader, Seven had a knack for efficiently working through battlefields from the chess player''s view rather than the limited perspective of a piece on the board. He knew what needed to be done and had no problem with moving a certain piece to a certain square to ensure victory. He often thought that he''d make a good fleet admiral, but saving people always trumped that desire. He actually liked fighting on the ground, helping out the little guy. Perhaps playing as a piece wouldn''t be so bad.


    "There they are," the pilot said as the Falcon descended to the destination, pulling Seven from his reverie.


    And there they were. Noble Team was exiting one of the bungalows, fully armed and geared for war. A navy blue Spartan leading the group climbed in first.


    "Noble Seven," Carter acknowledged as he sat down across from him.


    A bulky Spartan II, whom he instantly recognized, climbed in after him and sat down next to Seven and set an enormous, custom-made chain gun on the floor between his feet.


    Jorge.


    "Sorry about the rushed first meeting, but formal introductions will have to wait. I know who you are. I''ve read your file and I''m glad to have you on board. You''re exactly what this team needs right now," Carter explained.


    As he said this, the remaining Spartans climbed into the waiting Falcon. The first two, one armored pink and white and the other baby blue with a prosthetic right arm, slid into the open seats next to Carter. A drab green armored Spartan outfitted for guerrilla warfare and carrying a sniper rifle walked past the last open seat and sat on the floor of the Falcon with his legs dangling over the edge. And lastly, some a Spartan holding a shotgun and wearing an extra-vehicular activity helmet with a smiling skull scratched into its faceplate. He took the seat next to the hulking Spartan II and the Falcon lifted off and took back to the skies.

 Player Three

    "Alright Major, we''re ready," Warren, the ODST captain, whispered. "On your mark."


    Major Burke barely peeked at the enemy from behind an ambulance. He wanted to get a good look at the enemy, not the other way around.


    Let''s see here... three Jackals... and looks like just one Elite. Plus a bunch of Grunts. Easy.


    The ODSTs were holding down the frontline while he''d gone around to flank the Covenant lance from the side. He''d sensed that Warren was growing a little impatient, but that was fine. Burke was originally from Earth, but he''d been stationed on Harvest when the planet fell. There, he''d participated in several operations in which patience had proven to be key. There was even one instance where he and a fellow operative had camped out on an abandoned ski lift tower in order to sharpshoot an Insurrectionist leader they were told would pass through the area, and later did. He understood patience better than a chameleon. Warren and the other shock troopers were too itchy fingered on the trigger to appreciate the tactic.


    Burke pressed down the transmit button on his communicator before he spoke.


    "Let ''em fly," he said.


    Warren and Melissa both armed and overhand tossed fragmentation grenades. The first was a tad too high and sailed right over the lance''s position, but the second frag landed right amidst a loud trio of talkative Grunts. The resulting explosion sent the dumpy little aliens cartwheeling through the air in different directions. But they weren''t the only ones affected by the blast. A nearby Jackal lost its yellow energy shield and covered its head with both arms as it ran for cover. A Grunt in heavy drab armor also survived the blast, but unlike it''s wiser compatriot, chose to sit there screaming hysterically and running around in circles.


    Here we go.


    With a full smile that sparkled nearly as much as his helmet visor in the sunlight, Major Burke unslung his M45 tactical shotgun and stepped out from behind the vehicle. He saw another Jackal directly to his right less than five feet away, facing off against the ODSTs that had formed a solid perimeter around the hospital''s entrance. Inside the four-floor emergency facility, Army troopers were busily evacuating the remaining civilians. Just then the Grunt running in circles spotted Burke, yelped, and ran the other way. The Jackal squawked at this, then turned around and saw Burke in full sprint. Trying not to alert the other occupied aliens with the sound of a shotgun blast, Burke hammered the avian creature in the face with the butt of his firearm. It collapsed to the floor and he quickly stomped on the creature''s head and felt its beak crunch beneath his boot.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    That''s when he heard Warren over the COMs shouting to the others, "Move up, move up!"


    The team''s sniper, Daniel, and Warren stayed behind the barricades nearest to the entrance whilst David and Melissa moved up to two more emergency response vehicles that were parked near the one Burke had just moved from. They were effectively grouping the last of the aliens into a small, containable space. David underhanded a grenade right at the feet of the Elite, who looked down at it and instantly kicked it away. When it went off, it was barely over the Jackals'' heads.


    Most of them were slammed against the ground by the explosion and Burke was already moving in with his shotgun to finish off the ones that weren''t. One of the Grunts had been actually thrown towards him by the bomb and he clotheslined it with a pull of the trigger. The Elite didn''t seem to like that image too much. In fact, it raised its arms, bellowed, and shook its fists in rage.


    Seems upset.


    "Pow!" Daniel yelled out as a sniper''s round punched the Elite through the leg.


    A second, smoke-trailed bullet crowned the tall alien and it fell back in a pool of violet blood.


    Ah, that''s better.


    The majority of the enemies that remained at that point were a handful of Grunts who by then decided it was everyone for themselves. They were quickly picked off by assault rifle and designated marksman rifle crossfire as they tried to flee. A lone Jackal, the one who survived the first grenade, tried to shout them back into order, but soon found himself preoccupied with a Spartan I.


    Burke leveled his shotgun and the Jackal braced behind its yellow shield. The first buckshot blast knocked the shield to the side, the second put a hole in the creature''s chest and sent the bloody carcass tumbling back across the road. The ODSTs all whooped and cheered.


    "Yeah-heah!"


    "Alright!"


    "You should do that, like, all the time!"


    Burke soaked it all in. He felt it was important to celebrate the victories. Reach''s survival was not guaranteed, and the number of what could be called ''victories'' would decrease drastically in the coming weeks. Dark times were indeed on approach, there was no denying that. But for now, the good guys had won.


    "That the last of ''em Dot?" he checked just to be sure.


    "For now, Major," the helpful AI responded coolly in her thick accent. "Stand by, Noble Team is en route for retrieval. Your presence has been requested to aid in the perimeter defense at the Office of Naval Intelligence Sword Base."


    "Sounds good to me," Burke replied.


    He then asked, "And my team?"


    "Negative," she replied. "Whiskey-One will remain here to assist in Noble Four and Noble Five''s counterassault."


    He could see the Falcon arriving now. He slung his shotgun over his shoulder and waved at the aircraft, turned to the ODSTs, and shrugged.


    "Sorry. VIPs only."