Cyclone - Arrival

Thump. Daniel felt the Lich exit slipspace, as the continuous movement felt in that period of timeless space was lost, and replaced with the slow, steady drop of speed, and the quick replacement of acceleration the fusion drives gave. Looking around at the sparse interior of the Lich’s hull, he saw that Samuel and Bailey were sitting down at the rear of the ship, playing a simple game of cards, whilst Dominik was still fast asleep in a corner of the expansive cargo bay, nestled next to a small box of souvenirs taken from Farron-Nir.
God, what was he thinking? Souvenirs? They were dog tags. The dog tags of every single UNSC soldier and sailor on the planet. All of them had died except for Fireteam Cyclone. And so that crate carried the last remnants of the 589 brave men and women of the UNSC Myriad, 87th Independent Marine Company, and the 375th Engineer Battalion. All gone. They would be remembered, but they would have to remain on Farron-Nir, within the care of their allies, and Kaidon Rel ‘Taram. 
“We’ve been engaged, Cyclone Leader.” It was Yvette. She was up front in the Lich’s cockpit, piloting the alien vehicle. The months trapped on Farron-Nir had proven helpful for her skills with deciphering Covenant technology, and now she was competent enough to pilot a craft as big as a Lich. Not many humans held that specific title.
“UNSC forces?” Daniel asked. “Yes,” answered Yvette. “They’re challenging us, demanding identification.” Daniel stood up from his spot on the floor of the Lich, and began to walk towards the glowing reflective doors of the cockpit. “I’ll be right there.” he responded.
As the doors slid open, he looked to the left and saw Yvette hunched over the controls of the cargo ship. The chairs had been built for the Sangheili, creatures far larger than a Spartan, and so she was on the edge, leaning forward to the control panel. She didn’t look back as Daniel’s boots thundered on the metal floor, instead pointing a glowing purple screen in a foreign script. 
“Tap the yellow button to the right,” she said. Daniel did as he was instructed, and was met almost immediately with the harsh, Concordian accent of a UNSC specialist. 
“Unknown Covenant Lich, identify yourselves immediately or face reprisal. You are in violation of UNSC borders and will be shot down if you continue on your current trajectory.” Daniel couldn’t help but smile. After fourteen months of hell on Farron-Nir, with no interaction with any humans outside of Cyclone after the first six, a wave of relief washed over him, as he heard a real, human voice. 
“UNSC operator, we read you. This is Spartan Daniel-D076, of Fireteam Cyclone. We’ve been isolated on the planet of Farron-Nir for the last fourteen months, fighting against Created and ex-Covenant forces. Check the logs for Delta Company, or the mission log for the frigate UNSC Myriad. You’ll see we’re not lying.”
Daniel finished his response and was met with staunch silence. He waited for a response from the same voice, but was instead met with a gentler accent, one that reminded him of his home planet of Paris IV. 
“Spartan-D076, please stand by.” The comm unit clicked off, and Daniel found himself staring at a dark screen. Yvette sighed, and slowly backed off the dropship’s accelerator, allowing the ship to begin drifting slowly in space. Through the glass cockpit window, Daniel could see the approaching shape of a planet, with lush green continents and expansive blue oceans. Patterns of clouds swirled across the surface, giving it the appearance of an opaque, glass marble. His views of the planet were interrupted with a quick flash of steel and silver, followed by two other objects. 
“Longswords,” he muttered. They really weren’t taking any precautions with them. He turned to Yvette, who was busy flipping switches and tapping her sensor screen. “I count five targets on short-range, with another three approaching. We’re covered, with no opportunity for escape.”
“Better hope they believe it’s us, then,” he muttered. As soon as he spoke, the comms unit crackled back to life, with the screen lighting back up and the yellow button flashing once again. Tapping it, he was met with the same Concordian accent as before.
“Spartan-D076, what planet were you born on?” the voice queried.
“Paris IV, in Mimir,” he answered.
“What city did you live in on Earth?”
“Bordeaux.”
“What is your last name?”
“Montefiore.”
“What was the name of your nanny on Paris IV?”
He hesitated. He hadn’t spoken her name since she was taken from him in 2549. Out of respect, out of love. She was the one to raise him, to watch over him. He knew his parents cared, but his caretaker was the one who cared for him the most.
“Spartan-D076, we need an answer.” The comms unit warned. Yvette was looking at him, with a concerned look on her face. 
“Daniel, please.” She said.
With a gulp, he took a breath and spoke. “Zara.”
A pause. An uneasy silence. He shifted in his seat, as he awaited a response.
“Spartan-D076, welcome back to the UNSC. Please follow the Longswords in to Landing Platform 15, and we’ll send your commanding officer to debrief you. Out.”
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, as Yvette grinned from ear to ear. Keying the internal intercom, she spoke up. “Dom, Sam, Bailey, we’re back. Prep all gear for immediate unloading, we’ll be on the surface in ten.”
Daniel crookedly smiled, and stood back up. Patting Yvette on her shoulder, he walked back out of the cockpit, towards the rest of Fireteam Cyclone. Entering the main foyer, he saw Bailey and Sam packing up their game of Blackjack, as Dominik stirred from his long nap. Moving to his small corner of the bay, he picked up the MA5 he had been using for the entire campaign and attached it magnetically to his armour. Picking up the helmet he had left on the floor, he slowly placed it over his head, waiting for the reassuring ‘click’ as he reintegrated his helm. 
“Alright, let’s get this cargo bay squared away,” he said. They began to move, as Daniel woke Dominik from his slumber with a sharp kick to his boots. Dominik sprouted up, looking around wildly as Daniel gave a small chuckle. 
“Dom, we’re here. Start packing.” The Spartan shook his head, as he grabbed the wall to pull himself up. “You should know better than to interrupt a person when they’re sleeping,” he grumbled, yet nevertheless he began to organise the crates that were stacked haphazardly across the compartment.
Within five minutes they had finished, and were simply standing next to the Lich’s port door, waiting for the doors to open and freedom to finally arrive. They felt the reassuring tug of gravity, as the ride to the surface became bumpy and they found themselves grasping for the handholds mounted on the roof of the ship. As they slowed their descent, and Yvette announced over the com they were thirty seconds from landing, Daniel looked around at Cyclone. 
They were all scarred from their battle against the odds. Fighting time and time again against impossible odds, from swarms of Unggoy Bloodlusters to the elite squadrons of Narik-Solari. Night and day, from the grassy plains and thick forests to the precarious mountain causeways and debilitating deserts of the planet, they fought. They became real Spartans. Battle-tested, experienced, veteran Spartans. 
And Daniel was proud of every one of them, for presenting themselves as best as possible in a shitty situation, and finding a way to beat the odds, to get off the planet, to return to the UNSC, to a societal structure they knew and functioned within. They had made it back.
The Lich began to ease further, as they heard the repulsors activate, keeping the Lich a few feet off the ground. Yvette called over the com, “We’ve landed. Doors opening in five.” Daniel stood that extra bit taller, as he tensed up, and waited for the doors to open. Sliding across in a serene motion, the inside of the ship was filled with sunlight, as Daniel’s visor immediately adjusted for the glare.
He then saw a figure standing in front of them, flanked by two others. The first person stood taller than both following him, and was clad in a new form of MJOLNIR Daniel had never seen before. Feet planted firmly on the ground, hands clasped behind his back, the first one stared at the four Spartans standing in front of him. Daniel looked around at his team, nodding at them all. They then walked out of the bay, stepping down onto the harsh grey tarmac of the landing pad. Halting in front of the greeting party, Daniel took an extra step forward, and raised his hands to his head. Pulling off his helmet and allowing his eyes to naturally adjust to the bright, unbound sun, he tucked his helmet under his shoulder, and looked squarely into the first Spartan’s visor.
The person followed suit, taking off his helmet to reveal a scarred, weathered face, short brown hair, and a set of hazel-green eyes intently piercing into Daniel’s relatively untouched face. 
“Spartan Daniel-D076 of Fireteam Cyclone, reporting for debrief, sir.” Daniel had made a guess that the Spartan in front of him was an officer, simply due to his age. He had a faint idea of who the man was, but he wasn’t entirely sure. There weren’t many Beta Company Spartans left, after all. 
“Daniel, welcome to the Avery J. Johnson Academy of Military Science. Or AJJAMS, if you like. I’m Lieutenant Callum-B042.” Daniel nodded, looking the older Spartan-III to the armoured supersoldiers standing behind him.
“I’m guessing we’re not the first Deltas to turn up, sir?” he asked. Callum allowed a hint of a smile to show up on his face. “No, you’re not,” he began, but then paused. “Guys, come and show yourselves. They don’t bite, but then again you’d know better than me.” The two Spartans nodded and pulled off their helms. Daniel found himself looking at two familiar faces that he recognized from Argus V, although they weren’t exactly happy to see him the last time they had met.
“Andra? Merlin?” he asked. Genuine joy had crept into his voice, drowning out the serious, dour tone he usually had around other Spartans. He looked back to the rest of his team, who had taken their helmets off by that point. They had been joined by Yvette, who stood, mouth agape, staring at the two other Deltas.
Andra simply nodded. “It’s us.” She said with satisfaction. Merlin simply smiled, looking at another squad of his brothers and sisters that had been through hell, and lived to talk about it.
“Debrief can wait,” Callum said. “For now, I’ll give you guys some time readjust, and say hello to the rest of your company.” Smiling, he turned away, as Andra and Merlin walked towards them, and Cyclone did the same. 
There was a lot to talk about.