Halo ODST: To Love a Dying World

Welcome To Reach

Chapter One

I sit silent inside my Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle. What a stupid name. I think to myself. Everyone I know just calls it a drop pod, or the egg. The weight of the brace bars are pressing down on my shoulders, ironically making me feel more grounded as I hover some two thousand kilometers above the planet. I've checked that the M7 Caseless is mag locked in position beside me a dozen times already, but I check again anyway. I can't turn my head while secured in the drop pod, something about neck injuries, so I run my gloved fingers along the large silencer attached to it. The weapon's familiarity eases my nerves. I'm always scared that I'll get planet side and find out I've somehow managed to leave without a weapon. Its an irrational fear-- It wouldn't be possible to get into the pod, go through the three stages of checks, have the SL check the pod, and everyone misses it. But I still worry. I still check again and again.

We're almost in position. The timer in the upper right corner of my HUD shows a countdown till the UNCS Minotaur is over the area of operation. 1:30. 1:29. 1:28. I tap out the seconds with my boot, one of the few parts of my body I can still move with any degree of freedom. The pod's displays start coming online. Each is a live-feed from the other pods launching with me. My squadmates. In the center is Sergeant Chance, the bold red stripe running along the top of his helmet clearly marking him as the squad leader. There are five of us in total, myself included. Full strength for us. Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. I can't help but chuckle. How did I ever end up in the ODST? The biggest joke. A bunch of insane, half-cocked, over-committed and under-educated jarheads... I don't think we could be anything else, because what kind of sane, smart person would willingly be shot out of a cannon into a planet? None. We are Helljumpers. I don't try to hide my pride about it either. We're insane, and we're good at our job. The best.

Chance's voice breaks over the helmet's coms. Its open to the entire squad, and I can see the readout of his transmission strength and each of the receiving squaddies on the left side of my helmet's display. I say their names in my head like I always do at the start of an op. Sargent Chance, Corporal Glasgow, Private Jostad, Private. Ifedi, and Private Ellis. James Ellis. Me. Still alive.

"Where are we going?" Chance asks.

"Hell!" We all reply.

"And how are we getting there?!"

The timer ticks down. 3... 2... 1...

"Feet first!" We roar back.

The pod drops. The altitude reading on the pod's display is going crazy, flipping down through numbers faster than I can track. It also shows the rotation of the planet, the heading, and a bunch of other navigational data which blends together in my mind. I've seen it before, forty-seven times before. This will be forty-eight. Almost to the fifty mark. I try not to think about, but it makes me excited anyway. It will be 90 seconds before impact. I can hear Jostad howling over the mic like he's on a roller coaster. The others join him, except for Glasgow and myself. We've always been quieter. I don't think it's for the same reasons though. Truthfully the drops terrify me. Worst part is being stuck helpless inside a small metal tube hurtling towards the ground. It's all automated too, so you're not in control of when the chute deploys or if the decent is cocked up by some undiagnosed computer error buried deep within some caffeine-addled programmer's butchered code. The UNSC doesnt share the numbers with us either, of how many drops end up with one pod plastered alongside a cliff. They say it's safe. I think safe is relative.

Flames lick the outside of the pod as we start hitting the higher levels of real atmo. I check the readings on the pod with another glance. It says the temperatures are within "normal ranges." I don't see any red flashing lights but it doesn't make me feel any better. There is a camera mounted in the hull of the pod, and I task it up on the main monitor. Chance's face moves off to one of the leftern most displays. I can't see the ground yet. Its dark, and the cloud cover is dense. That's a good thing, as we're less likely to have a hot drop - combat right after the doors open. We'll have time to get on task before things go sideways. I look at the altitude reader- we're about half way down.