UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND TRANSMISSION
9148R-02
ENCRYPTION CODE: NONE
PUBLIC KEY: UNSC ONI
FROM: Spartan-F06 PLANET REACH SECOND DEFENSE PLATOON UNSC NAVAL INTELLIGENCE BASE
TO: ANY SURVIVING UNSC OFFICER, MEMBER OF SECTION THREE SPARTAN-II PROGRAM, DR. CATHERINE ELIZABETH HALSEY, CAPTAIN JACOB KEYES
SUBJECT: MISSION LOG DATE 2008 (?)
CLASSIFICATION: TOP PRIORITY (BGX Directive)
Epsilon Eridani System
Planet Reach
Spartan soldiers. The ultimate weapon. In the birth stages of the Spartan program, I was one of the seventy five children selected to be transformed into a Spartan warrior. Through all the rigorous training, all of the nightmarish routines, and horrendous programs we were subjected to, it's safe to say that each and every one of us became what we were designed to be.
As time passed, we only grew stronger. Day after day of the various regiments laid before us sharpened each of us past the point that any normal soldier could even begin to imagine. We both physically, and mentally surpassed the abilities of nearly every one of our superiors, and we were half their age. The "Spark of Youth" was more like a live wire dancing on the ground.
There was something I lacked, however. Every other Spartan was almost programmed to execute each mission to the fullest extent. No questions asked. I was the Spartan that asked questions. Much of me believed that the battlefield was no place for me, but I managed to prove myself time and time again in combat. I was even lucky enough to accompany Spartan-117, The Master Chief, on some missions sorting out minor rebel disturbances. He was an absolute inspiration, and I knew that as much as I tried, I could never be the Spartan he was. He was just too damn lucky.
I had my own share of luck, however. After the physical augmentation of the Spartan soldiers, my body was one of the very few that survived the process without either dying or becoming physically handicapped. That was just about where my luck ran out though, and it very much explains my presence here.
During the first years of war against The Covenant, my luck had me stay behind on Reach as a part of a line of defense for the planet, should The Covenant ever find us (Which they did.) As stated, I retained much more of my curiosity than the other Spartans, and also held a larger grasp of "Fight or Flight" techniques. John-117 was told once the difference between wasting lives and spending lives, but I held the concept of "Why die if you can live to fight another day?"
I'm sure many many of my fellow soldiers would label it cowardice, which is uncharacteristic of a Spartan, and in a sense, they may be right. I never did think my place was on the battlefield.
Before the planet Reach succumbed to The Covenants force, I was stationed to perform hourly sweeps of the nearby forest for any sign of Covenant movement. My luck played against me again, and I certainly found some. I happened upon a clearing in the forest, which held a small gathering of Grunts.
Among a generally sustained firefight with the five exhausted Grunts, I neautralized each target with no restraints. All five fell dead almost as fast as the bullets from my MA5B assault rifle. The only difficulty was that thick foliage jammed much of my radar tracker, which under normal circumstances, would have revealed 4 Jackals hidden in the brush. The ruthless creatures charged at me, which was uncharacteristic of a Jackal, and began to try to maul me to death.
Bear in mind I was issued in the first generation of MJOLNIR armor, and energy shields were undeard of on a Spartan at the time. They managed to scrape me up fairly bad, despite my attempts to hold them at bay and crunch their feeble little skulls at each chance I got.
During our flailing, one of the Jackals managed to disarm me, but didn't know how to operate my rifle. His confusion over my weapon left for a window to kick his head clean from his spine. As I recovered to finih the last Jackal off, I noted with horror that the last living Jackal was making a martyr of himself. He had armed a plasma grenade from a corpse of a fallen Grunt and lobbed it towards me. In my hasted to avoid the ball, my mental processes conflicted with the neural receptors in my suit, causing me to trip and fall into a nearby mud puddle. I was half submerged beneath te muck as the grenade detonated, shattering my faceplate and severely wounding the left side of my face.
I managed to walk away from the fight, but I was damaged horrendously. I staggered back to base and spoke to a technician that repaired my suit within the hour.
While in my momentary lapse of attention, alarms started to blare and klaxons screamed through the halls of the base. Reach was about to get hit. Hard. I gathered what supplies I could, and pulled together a group of Marines and other personell from underground. There was no longer a time to fight, but a time to escape. If we didn't make it away from Reach, we'd certainly die.
I hoarded my new crew into a docked Pelican and blasted the engines at more than the capacity they could handle. I didn't care if the engines burned up, I just wanted to escape. Through the atmosphere we flew, watching as the planets surface was glassed before our eyes. The Marines and technicians were distraight, but I had to keep the focus on getting our ship to the sky.
We almost made it, too. I heard the sirens. I saw the beam, and felt the heat. No sooner had we broken free from the atmosphere, than a beam of concentrated plasma from a Covenant warship barely tag our little Pelican. In my haste to escape, I failed to watch my surroundings. I turned my eyes back for one last time, only to see the Marines and specialists I had tried to hard to save get sucked from the ship into the vacuum of space. My suit kept me safe, but it wasn't worth watching them die in the void. One final burst from a plasma cannon sent the Pelican soaring into deep space, and knocked me out inside the cabin. I was rendered unconscious as my suit did all it could to keep me alive.
I drifted in space. When or armor was issued, we were told that our air could recycle for 90 minutes in the vacuum of space, but I'm certain I was there longer than that. My best guess is that the resonant shockwave from all of the damage to Reach propelled me deeper into space. I would have certainly died there, had it not been for The Covenant. In a way, I suppose I owe them my life. Their jump to Slipspace after Reach's destruction pulled me towards their wormhole, but I didn't manage to exit Slipspace when their ships did. I theorize I travelled so fast for such an uninterrupted period of time that I did in fact travel through time.
Which is the best explanation I can come up with to why I woke up on Earth. Not only did I wake up at all, I woke up on Earth. And almost 550 years in the past.
This world surely isn't ready for a Spartan. But it has one now. And though The Covenant forces aren't a threat currently, I'll still adhere to the training I was raised by to serve my duty to the people I've sworn to protect. I just hope the future isn't as bleak as I left it. I know there are Spartans out there that can still save what is left of that war. Some of them are just lucky, I guess.