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Generation II
Date: 11 October 2005, 7:12 am

"I swear I didn't used to bitch this much. I used to be a nice, quiet little soldier who did my job and didn't complain. At least I think so. I've been a soldier for a long time."

Private First Class SPARTAN-291 scratched at her short white hair, looking across the fire at the few remaining marines and the pitiful camp they were calling "home." The skepticism on one marine's face caused her to grit her teeth in frustration. She couldn't really blame him, with her delicate elfin features and pale skin she looked about as tough as a paper bag. Her Molinier armor helped her image a little, but a teenager's face and big blue eyes revealed she couldn't expect much. A plasma grenade had caught the side of her head earlier in the day, and it was pure luck that she'd gotten her helmet off in time. Not many people got to see a spartan's face, and with good reason. Spartans were invincible, deadly, and superhuman. Not pretty.

SPARTAN-173 came jogging out of the darkness, his SMG slung low. No contacts then. He turned his impassive faceplate towards her, and cocked his head. "Would it be cruel to remind you what ducking is?" She could hear the grin in his voice, and resisted the urge to throw a burning log at him. Paul was incorrigible at the best of times, and letting him get to her wouldn't help her case any. Putting on her coldest expression for the sake of the marines, she nodded.

"Yes, it would." She stood, and enjoyed the crack of her back. Her height didn't help terribly much either, she barely stood at Paul's shoulder. Just her luck to have a freak allergy to platinum. She'd flat lined on the table during augmentation; Dr. Halsey had barely gotten her though that. So, while her teammates grew to superhuman size, she got stuck at a measly 5-foot-nine. Being the only Spartan with a normal sex drive was also frustrating as hell. Rigid self-control kept her from indulging, but she had dreams sometimes…She shook them out of her head, and left the fire. A balled fist flashed out as she passed Paul, and a satisfying grunt sent her off with a smile. The marines might have noticed the exchange, but the only way to keep the Spartans sharp was to act normal. They'd lost two of their team today. It hurt still.

Halley hadn't been born like the other members of her squad, to a nice family on a remote planet somewhere. She'd been born on Reach. All the research and information on Project COMET had been destroyed the same year that the second team of Spartans had been selected. All she knew for certain was that she was unique in the UNSC. She'd been cloned from the splicing of several top genetic specimens and her genome refined to as near perfection as it could be gotten by genetic science. Then something had caused the experiment to go under, and the scientist behind it had struck some sort of deal with Dr. Halsey; instead of being terminated with the rest of the equipment, Halley had been entered into the SPARTAN II project. She was genetic perfection, of course she excelled. She didn't know anything other than giving 150% all the time.

At first she'd been different from the others, like a Caucasian albino in a Latino community. Pale and delicate, hair so white it gleamed, she'd been shunned by the more normal kids. She'd never forget the day it all changed. Three weeks after conscription, the children had been doing morning calisthenics under Chief Mendez's watchful eyes. One boy, Chris-166, had collapsed towards the end, a bad cold gotten out of control. A trainer had descended on him, and Halley had broken rank to intercept. She didn't know why she did it. The unsuspecting trainer had been thrown off balance, and when he hit the ground she grabbed his stun baton. She'd bashed his skull with it three times before they pulled her off him. The reprimands had been severe, but after that Mendez kept a closer eye on her. Testing showed that her brain pumped out nearly twice the normal adrenaline under stress, and that against all probability her body managed to handle the influx. The other children held her in a sort of awe after that. From then on she'd fit in.

She ran through the list of teammates already dead, and felt the cold gnawing at her inside. Hot tears were refused, and she stared over the battlefield with a face chiseled from stone. Kim-237 and Ferdenand-199 were added to the list. Her family was growing smaller and smaller. A hand settled on her shoulder, and she glanced back to see Micha standing there, his body language hinting nervousness. She managed a small smile.

"We've got to get to the generator tomorrow, if we can get a strong enough signal out we might get the UNSC's attention. I don't know what we'll do if we can't get evac."

He nodded, and squeezed her shoulder a little. "We'll think of something. Maybe if we're lucky this'll be a little vacation for us." He reached back to pop his helmet off, and took a deep breath of the wintry air. His handsome Russian features were only slightly marred by a scar that ran across his forehead, and once again he had more facial hair than was technically acceptable by regulation. He looked every one of his 33 years, and no one would have guessed the two soldiers were of an age. Another side product of a refined genome was very slow aging. It was a shame. It was so hard to give orders when people thought you were sixteen. Micha gave her shoulder one last pat before popping his helmet back on and lifting his weapon to ready; thumbing off the safety and heading out to patrol the perimeter of the camp. Halley was left alone with her memories again.


The dream hit her out of nowhere again, on the deck of the newly recommissioned "Avenger," Halley stood at attention as soldiers passed her by, on their way to some sort of briefing. She wasn't supposed to be on this deck, but she had to know. Had to see if the stories were true. Sure enough, a man entered the room, nearly two meters tall, short brown hair, strong features, walking with a grace that belied nearly 160 kilos of muscle and bone. Him. The Master Chief SPARTAN-117. John. He'd arrived a few days before with the remains of the original Spartan II squad, having survived a harrowing experience that was classified on a level that even Halley couldn't crack yet. Tomorrow he was going to be honored for his "success" and survival at something called the Halo, and tonight her team was leaving on a covert mission to the Diphan System. This might be her only chance to ever see the living legend.

The original Spartans and the younger team that followed were never introduced. Halley wasn't sure why. She though the rule absolutely stupid, and taking a chance with her career, she stepped into his path with the nonchalance as if she hadn't seen him. The resulting crash knocked her off her balance (on purpose of course, her reflexes were honed to a razors edge) and he reached out to catch her.

"Whoops! You alright?" Brown eyes burned as much as his touch. This was a BAD idea. She flushed unintentionally, and the softening of his gaze made her weak in the knees.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Sorry Sir." His hand lingered a little overlong on her arm as she stood under her own power, only a Spartan would have noticed. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she felt the so-called "Spartan Time" rush up on her. Force of will slowed her down, and she flashed a smile. He smiled back a little wistfully. She stepped out of his path; again he lingered a moment.

"It's no problem." He looked like he was going to say something, but opted not to. Halley's over-strung senses picked it up then. His body heat was up a few degrees, and pheromones were strong in the air around them; but he continued on his way with one last anticlimactic smile in her direction. Halley barely made it back to the corridor before falling against the wall with shivers overtaking her. She cracked into his private COM channel, listening with a pang of guilt. She had to know. Had to know if he'd been affected as strongly as she.

"Hey Chief, you okay?" The AI Cortana sounded a little worried.

"Of course, why?" The Chief sounded a little flustered, but that might have been Halley's imagination.

"Your pulse rate just jumped quite a bit. You running laps around the spaceship again?"

"No, nothing like that. Just ran into a girl."

"…A girl?" Cortana sounded a little suspicious.

"Yeah. The doc was right, the thyroid implant must finally be breaking down."

"OH?" She was definitely peeved.

"Relax, Cortana. I know we have a job to do." There was a smile in his voice. "But it's nice to know my imagination still works."

"Hold on chief…I just saw something on the ship roster…that's odd."

"Hmm?"

"I could have sworn it just said there was another Spartan on board…but then it vanished." Halley cursed to herself; her concentration was slipping, and she shut her neural implant to passive mode again.

"I think there's someone listening to our conv---" Halley shut the hack down, irritated. The AI was good. Really good. She hurried back to the bay where her team was situated. They were enjoying their last few hours before being suited up again, and all heads turned when she walked in.

"Was it worth it?" Kim snickered unrepentantly as she took in the stolen tech uniform and Halley's sheepish expression with a single look.

"Oh. Hell. Yeah." Halley allowed herself a little grin in response.



She woke with a violent start from the memory-dream. Kim. Kim was dead now. Her relaxed but teasing manner had been a constant for years. Halley sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, digging her nails in hard enough to draw blood. She checked the time on her borrowed HUD. She'd only been asleep for two hours. Not nearly enough to be alert come morning. With a sigh she rolled back over and lapsed into dreams again.

John-117 was in those dreams too.

Acquisition
Date: 15 October 2005, 2:14 am



Cold, heartless sunlight turned the morning a pale shade of blue. Halley turned her eyes from it, scowling and muttering heartfelt curses under her now frosty breath. Paul sat a few meters away, watching a pot of coffee percolate. The marines sat hovered around it like men expecting a miracle; there was actually an audible sigh as the water began to change to brown. Micha and Francine were nowhere to be seen, and Halley got up onto her elbows with a supreme force of will.

"How long was I out?"

"Close to six hours, all in all. Night here doesn't seem very long, sun's been up for almost an hour." He poured a cup of coffee and walked in her direction, handing the mug over to a greedy smile. From the fire several marines were opening MREs with a vengeance, and one looked over towards the Spartans with one blond eyebrow cocked.

"Somehow I never pictured you guys eating and drinking like normal folk." As Halley downed the mug in one scalding swallow, the already washed out marine paled even further.

"We don't."

"Showoff." Paul's whisper was faint enough not to make it as far as the menagerie of military personnel, but the one person who could hear it flushed a little, between the reprimand and the heat the caffeine brought.

"Sorry, I know. This blue dwarf is just getting to me, that's all. Well, that and the helmet thing. God, I feel like an idiot for getting tagged like that." He clapped her shoulder and stood back up, offering a hand.

"Don't worry about it. After we get evac'd we'll send in for a new one. After all, considering the shape of my shield array, it'll probably be a few days in skins for all of us." Halley straightened, and ran an absent hand through her short hair. It didn't help that her size required minor adjustments to the typical MOLINIER armor, and though she could salvage most minor parts from her downed companion's suits, the one-size-fits-all helmet had to be custom sized for her smaller frame. Her shields were currently sporadic at best, and she couldn't count on her head taking any hits.

"I think it's about time we all got a break. God, a hot shower sounds fantastic…" She cut the conversation short as Micha jogged up.

"All right, we've got our target picked out, about twnty kilometers west of here is the remains of a fort; it's got a few elites, a few jackals and maybe six dozen grunts guarding it. From the look of things, the pulse that took out our cruiser might have taken their ship out too. They actually bothered to set up a campsite."

"I'm surprised they didn't come after us last night."

"Visibility was pretty low, and they seem kind of disorganized. I doubt they even thought to check. After all, they were only twenty kilometers away, and we didn't see them till this morning."

Halley chewed her lip thoughtfully, staring off to the west as though if she tried hard enough she could see right through the cliffs, then with a sharp nod she was all business again.

"All right, Paul, you're with me on Blue team, Fran, you're Green One. Keep your eyes peeled for banshees, I know at least one of them limped away from our last engagement. Paul and I will draw their attention as best we can, as soon as you're in the clear, Micha, get into that fort and salvage any communications equipment you can. Doubletime it back to our fallback position. No heroics, okay? Francine, keep him in your sights as long as you can, and pick off anyone with any ideas of heading back in the fort to check things out."

"Roger." Francine was crouched about a hundred meters to the west, and her voice came in scratchy over the com.

Halley glanced to her left, where Paul was starting to shift his balance to the balls of his feet, a trait he started showing whenever he was anxious to get started. "The com situation is going to be a problem, use your best judgment. Blue two, what do we have left in the way of explosives?"

"About a case of C4 and some land mines that may or may not still be functional."

"Alright, that'll have to do, we'll try to set it up to our best advantage when we get a better look at the terrain. Marine!" The blond man who'd asked about Spartan eating habits earlier got up and jogged over, serious now that three of the four remaining Spartans were standing around, two impassive face masks and one very stern woman's face focused on him.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Got any good drivers?" He gave a small nod and jerked a thumb back to the fire. "Philippe there is the best damn driver I've ever seen. Flipped a warthog once and managed to get it back on the tires all in the same move." Halley nodded approvingly.

"He'll do. I want him to stay within ten kilometer of our target at our fallback position, and tell him to keep his ears to the com. We may need a quick evac, but I don't want to waste our last warthog if we don't have to. He's only to come in if we call for him, got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"All right, fall out, gear up, we start this operation in fifteen." She turned on her heal and headed for the warthog, salvaging what equipment she could, feeling a wash of sadness at the sniper rifle sitting on the passenger seat. Kim had been their sniper, agile but patient; she'd considered it an insult if she used more ammo then kills. Her rifle, now a lonely sight, still had a splatter of blood and a smear of coolant fluid from when she'd been pierced by a covenant carbine. Halley lifted the weapon in one hand, and handed it over her shoulder without looking. Francine took it from her hands, and checked to see that it was still fully loaded. Halley grabbed a med kit and attached it to her belt, then looked up to see her teams fully assembled and ready to go. A glow of pride and a pang of regret, and she pulled herself together. The marine climbed into the driver's seat with a nervous chuckle, and she nodded to him once.

"All right people, this is it." She shouldered the pack of explosives and started jogging towards the west.






For Teghli of the Ungoy, the day was about as good at a day could be when one was stranded on a deserted planet with no means of escape; and surprisingly he was enjoying himself. The humans were all dead, and his stomach was growling at the prospect of no food for a while, but the air was crisp and cold, the ambient blue light cast by the plane's small blue star was reassuring to his methane-breathing companions. It was much easier on the eyes than those stupid yellow stars that humans classically chose for their homeworlds. Not far away, soft whispers of Ungoy snores drifted from his companions, and though he was supposed to be on watch, he decided that a quick nap would do him good. After all, the Sanghelli wouldn't punish everyone if they all went to sleep. Secure in his safety, he curled up with a little yawn; only to be interrupted before he could drift off. It looked as though something was moving between the two short hills not far away, and with a grumpy snort he got up and glanced over, just to be safe.

Something was moving on the edge of camp, smaller than a Sanghelli but bigger than an Ungoy, its skin some sort of greenish plates and a human's head…a human's head? Pale blue-ish hair sprouted from the top of a pale face, and it's demented eyes were focused right on him. A small human weapon lifted and pointed at him, and the demon's soft voice cut through the morning air with an odd sound like a bubble popping mixed with a heavy exhalation.

"Boo."

"ENEMY!!! Enemy here!!! Aahhh!!!" Teghli screeched in terror, waking his companions frantically, as the demon bared it's evil teeth and dashed away towards the twin hills. His courage returning in the light of its retreat, he pointed to the hills and screamed. "We go!"

Halley counted steps as she ran, weaving back and forth through the newly set minefield and sliding down to a halt next to Blue two, who was holding the detonator. Each land mine had been paired with a small amount of C4 in the hopes that they would all go up together, and he crouched in the small frozen gully fifteen meters back from the miniature peaks. He watched and lifted the small plastic shield from the detonator; thumbing it just as the wave of grunts charged down the center.

The terrain was mostly slate, and both hills blew open towards each other, and the grunts that survived the initial explosion were buried an the resulting landslide. Halley tapped her com, missing her helmet keenly, and watched the rising dust cloud with a feeling of satisfaction. "Green two, you are a go."

She leaped from the gully, hefting two SMGs and walking calmly towards the ruined land formation, a few quick shots finishing off the struggling creatures. No reason to leave them to a slow painful death, as far as she was concerned. Some Spartans got edgy about that, wanting individual grunts to suffer in agony for the sake of the innocent humans killed in the war, but in Halley's opinion there had been enough suffering in the universe already. The methane-breathing aliens were just soldiers doing their job, after all. Paul followed behind, and she heard him drop to a crouch, following suit even though she couldn't see the immediate threat.

She glanced over her shoulder, and he lifted one hand to his faceplate, making a quick motion like grabbing a beak, then held up two fingers and pointed one towards the left hill. She nodded almost imperceptibly; pointed to him, then the side of the hill, then herself and up. She followed it with her palm flat out, and a motion like she was pushing something against the ground. He gave a thumbs-up, and started to move out cautiously, staying low to the ground. She crept up the slate hill, trying not to dislodge anything else, and got into position over and behind the two jackals that were trying to sneak around. Blue two rolled into sudden view, and fired at the jackals, who lifted their shields quickly. They only got off two shots before Halley leapt down, firing the whole decent. Their purple blood splattered against the inside of their shields, and they went down.

Blue two was flat on the ground, and rolled up as Halley jogged over, and they looked down at the splash of a burn over his shoulder.

"Damnit, that hurt. Shield only absorbed the first hit before going out." He grabbed one of the jackal's wrist pieces, hitting two buttons and watching the glimmering wall of green light. "It's not subtle, but it'll do. Shit. Elites." He shoved Halley with his good arm, and rolled in the opposite direction as a rain of plasma bolts filled the space where they had been. Her SMGs started going off as he got the borrowed equipment in place, shooting at the two blue skinned aliens from behind his new green barrier. An overcharged plasma bolt took out one Elite's protection, and Halley finished him off with the SMGs, but the clicking of two empty clips heralded serious danger. The remaining Elite charged up the hill and hit the smaller Spartan like a truck, rolling down the far side.

Paul ran up the hill as fast as he could, squelching the fear for his companion lest it cloud his reactions. In the shallow depression between the slate hills, the Spartan and the elite struggled, the larger warrior with its hands around her neck, and her green fists slamming in quick punches to his face. She managed to get her legs out from under it and planted her feet against its chest. She pushed with all her might, grabbing its wrists and trying to pry them off her throat. She was weakening though, and started kicking at the Elite's neck in desperation. Paul couldn't fire into the melee safely; but he ran down the hill, the small plasma weapon dropping as he pulled a pistol, and with all his magnified strength, slammed the back of the alien's scull in. He tossed the pistol in the air, catching it in a better grip for firing, and kicked the elite off Halley, who groaned and coughed. Alive, that's what mattered.

"You okay?"

"Bruised, battered and broken." Her voice was raspy, and an ugly purple mark was visible on the slight bit of her throat that was visible. "In other words, fine." She managed a grin, and got to her feet. Her face fell as she looked over Paul's shoulder. "Oh Fu--"

A crack rang through the air even as the banshee screamed down on their position; the elite piloting it fell out and landed three meters ahead of them, the banshee crashing into the gully behind. Green one's voice came over the com.

"--green t-- has th- --akage, falling ba-- -ow"

"Roger that. Blue one out."
Paul checked out the downed banshee as Halley policed the remaining covenant guns, and shook his head. "Handling's shot. No good, it would take a pilot better than me to make this thing go where they wanted." He kicked it, and headed back to the east, an occasional glance over his shoulder.

Halley started after, and noticed something moving in the pile of rubble. A grunt hand cleared itself off, and it looked up at her from the ground, hands shaking. Weaponless. Helpless. Terrified. Halley hefted one SMG, loading it with her last spare clip. Something seemed wrong about this. She debated for a moment, and decided she just couldn't. Instead she looked it dead in the eyes, and crouched down to its level.

"Do you have a translation program? Can you understand me?"

Teghli nodded, afraid to lie, as the demon (though less frightening when it's teeth weren't bared and it didn't seem much bigger then him) spoke to him.

"Next time you see a helpless human, like you are helpless now, you don't kill it, you got that?"

He nodded quickly, thinking how stupid the demon must be.

"I know you're thinking that once I'm gone you don't have to keep your word, but you will. You have a scar on your face right there," she pointed with her gun, and it's terror caused its hands to start shaking again, "and I'll remember that. If you don't keep your word, I swear by all that's holy I will hunt you down and killing you will be the last and kindest thing I do. Understood?"

She swore by all that was holy! Did humans and demons believe in holy, then? Enough to swear by it? And more frighteningly, if a demon dared to invoke the name of founders, then they must REALLY mean it. Teghli nodded quickly.

"I will! No kill human without guns! I hear! I promise!"

Halley suppressed a sigh. She must be an idiot to take the thing at its word. But she couldn't just murder it in cold blood (the irony of the statement not lost on her) because that would make her no better than the covenant themselves. She stood back up, and turned her back to it deliberately, jogging after Paul.

That she might have just planted the seed of heresy never even crossed her mind.









Micha looked at the collection of communications equipment, picturing the multitude of pieces in his mind along with various ways he could put them together to make a signal. The planet's screwed up magnetism wasn't helping either. Finally, he decided, and glanced over at Francine, who was cleaning the sniper rifle with a sort of reverence. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and she slumped against him with a heavy sigh. As far as any of them knew, they were the only Spartans in the history of the program with any previous relation; second cousins in a very large family. They had met once or twice before their conscription, and in those early days they had clung to anything familiar. It made them a very effective team, and it was probably the only reason she had survived the augmentation. She remembered the end of the process, fading in and out of consciousness, one spark refusing to give in. She refused to die, even as her body rebelled, because she didn't want Micha to be alone. She'd been fortunate that the only problem was a viral infection run amok in her system; had it been one of the bad reactions like her bones twisting or her heart swelling up to massive proportions no amount of willpower would have helped.

"I think I've got it." She straightened back up, feeling reassured, and tilted her head.

"Got what?"

"I can refine this transmitter into a burst transmission, one message, but it'll go further then if I just have it screaming out continuously. It'll probably make it intact past the planets atmosphere, and if anyone passes through the system, they'll get it. One problem, the encryption will have to be petty basic, or else it'll be totally scrambled by the time anyone gets it." He looked up as Halley walked over, gesturing at the salvage. "Any ideas?"

"Sure. We record the message and play it backwards." Halley grinned. "It might just confuse the covenant translators, and I'm sure any human AI would pick up on it no problem."

"That sounds like a stupid idea but I love it." Micha couldn't help but laugh. "I'd give almost anything to be the one to tell them they wasted time trying to decode a backwards message. You're right though; it wouldn't be any more scrambled than if we played it without encryption, and if there isn't a human ship up there we're dead anyway."

"My thoughts exactly." The MREs were running in short supply now, and the nine marines were starting to look rather fatalistically at the situation. Though the Spartans weren't even taking their share, food would run out in a few days. The planet's hostile environment hadn't produced much in the way of wildlife, and after the assault on the old human fort the day before; camp had been moved closer to a cliff edge sixteen kilometers southeast of their last position. There hadn't been much in the way of retribution yet, but that couldn't last long. The marine carrying the "football," a silver case containing the founder's artifact that had been found here was looking haggard and depressed, his buzzed hair starting to grow back in with a fury. It added to the scruffy, wild look, and constantly shifting eyes telegraphed his obvious anxiety.

Why the UNSC was so frantic to get a hold of a little clear rock with some ancient writings on it wasn't exactly known to the Spartans or the marines, but the soldier carrying it was also carrying a small nuke in the same case. It was his job to blow himself and the artifact up if the covenant got the upper hand. Having that kind of responsibility wasn't easy on anyone, not even a battle-hardened lifer.

Micha started putting together the communications beacon, crossing all sorts of wires in a pattern that looked like gibberish to anyone without electrician's training, and to those with, it looked like a cross between absolute genius and paramount stupidity. It took an effort of faith to trust that he knew what he was doing, but one of the long-term benefits of the hellish training that Spartans underwent as children was the instillation of just that sort of absolute conviction in one another's abilities. Halley recorded the message and had it set to backwards play, and after sacrificing the power cells of most of the plasma pistols Francine had the jury-rigged power supply prepped for the transmission. Paul cut through the com moments after the setup was finished, and his message wasn't good.

"I see two banshees flying in formation, and there's obviously some ground troops under them. I think they're prepping an assault."

"Well, our good luck couldn't last forever." Halley transmitted the message into the burst relay, and Micha keyed the last sequence in. There was a soft hum followed by a loud rushing sound, and the message was shot into the atmosphere. The power cells started sparking, and the Spartans backed off to a safe distance. The tiny green cells shattered in unison even as the communications array melted to slag under it's own stresses. There was a feeling of finality, and Fran crossed her fingers.

"Here's hoping." She shouldered a battle rifle and glanced down the incline to where Paul was situated, and glanced at the smaller Spartan to her right. "What do you think, Hal? Stay here and get shot to shit, but be here if the UNSC finds us? Or clear out and find another hiding spot?"

"We stay." Nightfall was only a short while away, and as the blue sun was setting behind the cliff, a burst of color, a beautiful aurora borealis in shades of violet and green started to dance overhead. "We can't survive here much longer anyway. But for what it's worth, it's been an honor serving with you."

"And a pleasure." Fran clapped her on the shoulder warmly, and Micha nodded as well.

"Lets go kill some covenant."

The Marines fell back closer to the cliff edge, and everyone settled in for the next tense few minutes.








"Well, that's weird."

Master Chief 117 glanced up from the console he'd been skimming through, Cortana's miniature transparent blue hologram standing beside him on a pedestal designed for just that purpose. The Resplendent was a new top-of-the-line cruiser on her maiden voyage, giving the Chief and Cortana a ride to the new UNSC base being built to replace Reach. Given the more recent success at the second Halo and Earth, the remaining Spartans were currently helping establish the new training grounds, defenses, and living spaces for the refugees of humanity. Now that Earth had been found and invaded, even if the invaders had been driven back, plenty of people were signing up with the UNSC to protect their home. What had been a fight for space was now the fight to defend home.

John looked back down at the battle report from the initial attack on Earth, the casualty figures and reported ship losses. As he scrolled down, one ship name caught his eye, the Avenger had gone down with all hands aboard. A slight pang of regret rang in his mind; the memory of a pretty young tech and the invitation in her expression was one of the little pieces of beauty that he kept close in times of stress. The reminder of why he fought this war, for all those innocent lives who didn't deserve to be taken. He glanced up again at Cortana, and behind the impassive faceplate, raised an eyebrow.

"What's weird?"

"I just got a burst transmission from deeper in the system we're passing through, it's a little damaged but it's definitely human. The encryption level is awful."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's just the message played backwards."

The Chief blinked in surprise, memories of Mendez saying that sometimes you had to think outside the box playing through his head. "What's the message?"

"I've cleaned it up as best I can…"

"…I repeat, this is Petty Officer First Class Spartan-292, UNSC recognition code 007-1564-apha priority. This is an emergency distress call from the second planet in the Diphen system, we are stranded planet side and under covenant assault. If there are any UNSC personnel on the receiving end of this message, we are in desperate need of evacuation," there was an infinitesimal pause of gathering breath, "Please. We need help. I have three wounded marines down here, and we're almost out of supplies. If anyone can hear me, we don't have much time left. …I repeat, this is Petty---"

John stood absolutely still, the message drowned out by blood rushing through his ears.

"See, It's weird, I didn't think there were any Spartans with a higher sequence number than 150." She put her hands on her hips, and tilted her head. "The recognition code pans out though. Those sneaky Section Three bastards hid the information under a shipping and receiving order that's been hanging out in the backlogs. I never bothered to open the file; I didn't think it could hold anything important. But according to this, Petty Officer Halley-292 is a real person." A pause. "You okay there Chief?"

It wasn't the message, or even the idea that he'd finally learned that the younger generation of Spartans actually existed. The voice in the recording sounded exhausted and scratchy, but his razor sharp memory recognized it, put a face to it. Given what he'd just been thinking before Cortana gave him the message it was downright creepy. "I know her."

Cortana raised a holographic eyebrow and shifted her "weight" to one hip. "Oh you do?"

"Yeah. I met her on the Avenger. Didn't know she was a Spartan." The memory of her face and the slim figure screaming femininity even in spite of a tech uniform cut to mask gender; ice blue eyes and the scent of something that was not perfume. A scent that had swamped his senses and given him some peculiar dreams… "She's pretty tiny for a Spartan, actually."

"Hurmph. Anyway, the message was in a burst, played three times, then crapped out. I figure it only got sent a few minutes ago."

"Captain?" John opened his com and started walking quickly towards the bridge. "Cortana is about to send you a message."

"Already got it, Chief. We're changing course. The Pelican leaves in ten minutes and I want you aboard."

"Yes sir, I'm on my way."




"Ah shit." The marines were set on the cliff edge in a defensive position, and from what Carl could see the Spartans were making quick work of the grunts. One Elite, however, had broken rank and was charging their position. Carl hefted a stolen plasma grenade, hit the button, and chucked it as hard as he could. His disbelief as it stuck to the Elites armor caused him to should in glee.

Then in alarm.

The Elite hadn't slowed down any, and when the grenade went off, it was going to kill everyone around it. Carl shut his eyes tight and readied to die. A blur of green charged up the hill after the Elite, and slammed it forward past the marine's foxhole and right off the cliff. He caught a glimpse of white hair and green armor, and felt horror grip his gut as the Spartan, her momentum too much to stop, went over the edge too. He ignored the danger and went to the cliff, hoping against hope that she'd grabbed something to keep her from falling to her death. Far, far below, there was a small beach at the foot of the embankment. Water lapped at slate gray rocks, and a pathetically small armored figure lay with one arm at an impossible angle.

Gray, white, and green. And then, he shut his eyes and forced back tears.

The rocks were also covered in red.




"Gunners, take out those ground troops!" The Pilot eased the Pelican down to the ground as the last of the covenant fell under the surprise assault from above. He'd barely touched down before the hatch was opened and the Chief stepped out, walking with agile grace towards the small group of people hunched around a ruined warthog. Another Spartan stood, just as big as the Chief but with subtle movements that he didn't recognize. It was eerie to see, his whole life had been spent among the same people in that same gear. To meet someone in MOLINIER armor that he didn't recognize was a lot like de'ja'vou.

"I guess you got our message, sir?" The man's voice sounded oddly tight, like he was holding back emotion.

"Yes, we did. We're here to pull you out." A glance around showed to more Spartans and several marines, but no UNSC FOF tag had the name "Halley" attached. "Where's the Petty Officer who sent the message?"

"She's dead, sir." John felt that pain in his chest that he got whenever he lost a comrade. "Lost her about twenty minutes ago, two kilometers north of here. There's…a cliff. She went over."

"Saved our lives, too." A marine with a bandage around his head and a briefcase cuffed to his wrist stepped forward.

"…hey Paul…" the whisper across the com drew the Spartan's gaze back from where they'd come from.

"HALLEY? I hear you, Halley where are you?" He tried to keep from sounding frantic.

Cortana muttered to herself, and then spoke up in the Chief's armor. "I triangulated the signal, it's coming from that cliff they talked about."

"…dosen't much matter. Pretty beach, though….got a great view of the aurora borealis….always wanted to see one…" Her whisper strengthened a little, and he could hear a wet cough she tried to muffle. "Get out of here, I'm done for. Live and fight another day, okay? If you ever do meet 117…do me a favor and tell him he's got a sexy voice." She laughed, strained but genuine, and ending in a cough. "I'll miss you guys…" She trailed off, and Paul took a step north before the Chief grabbed his arm.

"No. You're in no condition to go back for her."

"Damn you, no! I'm not leaving her behind!"

"No, you're not. I'm going after her."

Paul stared a moment, then looked at the Pelican. His right arm sagged down, the burn hurting horribly, and Micha and Francine weren't much better off. He nodded, and stepped towards the landing craft.

John glanced around, and saw a battered Banshee that had bits of gore in the cockpit and a little hole from a sniper shot. He thumbed the controls and the small ship hummed to life. Cortana made a disapproving sound in his head.

"You sure about this? There might still be covenant around."

"I'm sure."




Halley watched the last of the blue sunset, propped up against the cliff edge. A series of hardy vines grew all along it's base, and she's used one to pull herself into a sitting position. White-hot pain had knocked her out cold for a while, but she'd come to in time to say goodbye. Her lower lip was red with blood, and her right arm was clearly broken in spite of the metal bonded to the bone. A ruptured panel in her midsection had poured blood and cooling fluid all over the rocks around her, the wound just up and under her ribs. Punctured lung definitely, and possibly collapsed, a gut wound that bled like crazy and was taking her a damn long time to die, and a concussion for certain. She knew her chances, and she didn't want any of the others climbing down the cliff to save her or die with her, the drop was suicidal.

Her vision was starting to blur, but over the pounding of blood in her head she could hear the whine of a banshee. She hefted her battle rifle in what passed for a good arm, tears of frustration and agony trying to get out. A figure was walking along the beach towards her, blue-green and huge. She lifted the rifle and it paused, but the armor failed her and she couldn't squeeze the trigger. One hot tear escaped her control and she faced her death with a defiant grimace.

Not many things could move a Spartan emotionally. Even fewer could bring one to tears on sight alone. John stood on the slate beach and faced a sight that only Cortana would ever know actually brought him to that point. It wasn't because of who she was. It was because he'd lost so many friends. So many had died alone. Some had fallen to their deaths on Reach. And his best friend, Sam, had died staying behind on a covenant ship. These things all crowded his memory, his grief for the Spartans as a whole summed up in that heart-wrenching image. Pale, bloodless face, lips stained red and one trickle of blood down her chin, spatters of oil and blood and dirt on her cheeks, white hair stained all those same colors. Her armor broken and one arm hanging limp, agony written on a face so beautiful it didn't belong in the army, and one clean mark down the side of her face where a single tear had cut a path. Utter defiance of death, a shaking battle rifle held at arms length; Halley was, in that moment, the living personification of how a Spartan died.

John knelt as hot tears poured out of his own eyes, and he took the rifle out of her hands. She looked at him in confusion, and he lifted one hand to the side of her face to wipe her tears away.

"Come on kid, we're not going to let you die today." He lifted her, wincing as she cried out in agony, choking her cries off with a hiccup. He carried her as he would a child, away from the place where she'd fallen.







AIs didn't allow emotions free reign most of the time, they shut them off when they were uncomfortable. Cortana had to do just that as she saw what the Chief saw; felt what the chief felt. The caring was different. It wasn't how he cared when he though about her, she knew that. It was the love he had for fellow Spartans, even ones he'd never met. Uncomfortable with the realization, Cortana shut off her emotional subroutines and vowed to keep them that way for a long time.

Rhapsody in Revelation
Date: 20 October 2005, 12:32 am

       The banshee wobbled alarmingly as it settled at the top of the cliff while almost simultaneously a pelican landed nearby; hatch opening to allow the Chief and his broken burden to climb aboard. He settled in the seat as close to the pilot as possible, unwilling to put the smaller Spartan down in fear that picking her up again would cause too much internal damage. She was barely breathing anymore, and he looked across the way to a marine with a red cross on a white background banded around his arm.

       The medic sidled over, pulling out a biofoam dispenser and kneeled to appraise the situation. He slid the nozzle under her ribs and depressed the trigger, blue eyes snapping open and a hiss escaping 292's lips. Her good hand, fingers curled around the edge of the Chief's chest plate, clenched into a vise-like grip. She turned her face against his chest and laughed, pain ripping it raw through her throat.

       "You have to be kidding me. I thought I was dreaming." She glared daggers at the medic, who backed up carefully, and the Chief lifted one hand to her head, fingers parting the soft white hair.

       "Shhh, kid, take it easy. You'll be patched up in no time."

       "I thought I was dreaming about you too." She turned her face up to him, and those pale cerulean eyes pulled heartstrings between agony and disbelief.

       "Isn't that a normal thing?" He wouldn't have believed she had enough blood left to blush, and he would have been wrong. "I mean dreaming." Oh yeah, I sound like an idiot. John tried to resist the urge to say more and make it worse. His reactions to stimuli were seriously worrying him at this point. He gave a moment's thought to Fred, Linda and Will, and wished they were around to discuss the newest development in the Spartans. Between the elder Spartan emotionally reverting to adolescence and a whole new pack of Spartans appearing out of the ether, he was missing his own team keenly. It felt a lot like going back in time in the Pelican's cramped bay. The Spartans around him were even wearing a slightly older model of MJOLNIR then his own, and the dings, scratches, and faded olive-brown gave character to the otherwise uniform armor.

       A Spartan with the FOF tag SPARTAN-178 reached down to open a panel in his leg, pulling out a seal with a crack in it, the Spartan sitting beside him (FOF tag SPARTAN-179) pulled a spare out of a belt case and handed it over, giving a reassuring pat on the shoulder after she did so. Across from them and a few seats down from the Chief, the fourth Spartan looked towards Halley and then away, 179 tilted her head a fraction, 273 moved his left hand in a little waggle, and 178 gestured an okay with one hand while he clipped the spare in. The motions were so quick and minute, that to the marines sitting around they must have seemed utterly impassive. Even without being on their frequency, the Chief knew they were having a rather animated conversation. It was both reassuring and bizarre at the same time.

       "This is interesting." Cortana's voice piped up in the Chief's headset, startling him out of his reverie.

       "Hmm?" Halley was starting to relax a little again, and he absently ran his fingers through her hair and let her shift into a slightly more comfortable position.

       Cortana, though she had no teeth to clench, still sounded suspiciously as though she did and was. "There's a covenant ship heading our way, on the other side of the system. It's not traveling through slipspace. We'll be out of here with plenty of time to spare, but I think there might be covenant alive down there still. I wonder what they were after." She gave a slight pause. "Her bio-signs aren't good, chief. I…I really don't think she's going to make it."

       "Let the medical team on the Resplendentknow we're on our way with a critically wounded Spartan anyway." He had to work to keep the frustration out of his voice, as Halley slipped out of consciousness completely. She was so fragile at this point. All three Spartans were watching him now, telegraphing concern.

       "…I already did, chief." She sounded so…hurt? This day was more baffling by the moment. Before he could formulate an appropriate response, the Pelican turned smoothly into the landing bay, hatch seal cracking before it even touched down fully.

       "Thanks." He tossed it back towards the pilot as he moved towards the back of the landing craft, heading to the small collection of men in white coats and the stretcher they were pushing. He gave a little nod to the Asian man wearing a lab coat and standing in front, who helped settle Halley on the stretcher as another man in the same uniform began checking vitals. "Doctor Wong."

       "Welcome back, Chief. Once again you present me with the most difficult challenge you could find. Sometimes I think you do it on purpose. I'll do what I can, but I can't make any guarantees. She's lost a lot of blood already, and if what Cortana sent me is accurate, she's going to need a new lung and possibly more. I've already got clone tanks making new organs, but there's not a great chance of them taking." The other doctors were wheeling her out, and Dr. Wong gave one last smile before walking after. "We'll do our best."

       "…Kevin…" The Doctor paused and glanced back. "…save her and we're quits."

       "She'll be out of the operation room in a few hours. I'll know more then. Buck up, John. Worrying never helps." He hurried out the door.

       Paul walked up to the Chief with his shoulders slumped. "What was that all about?"

       "Several years ago Kelly and I went against our orders on a surface op, in a manner of speaking. We were supposed to leave the planet, but our Intel suggested there was still a bombed out hospital with possible survivors near our LZ. We stayed on a planet for forty minutes after we were supposed to evac, but we managed to get Dr. Wong and his staff out, rather than leaving them behind. He's been swearing for years that he owes me one."

       "I hope that debt is enough. I hate losing my team." He sounded so dejected. John looked him over, and nodded.

       "It will be. Come on, you're in bad shape yourself, lets get you looked at." He glanced back at the other two, who were nodding to each other. It felt good, somehow. It felt like having a team again. As they walked through the same doors doctors had just run through, the marines trailed behind chatting it up in that good-natured post-rescue sort of way that lightened everyone's mood, even his own.

       "Cortana, thanks for appraising the doctors of the situation. Sorry if I sounded sharp earlier." When only silence responded, he vowed to talk to her at length when there was more time.

       Cortana watched the grisly operation with part of her mind, while most of her intellect focused on files she'd never waste time checking normally. It was a clever way of hiding information from a Smart AI, though in her early days it would never have gotten past her. The Resplendent was carrying a massive information store for ONI and Section Three, and Cortana had been absently scrolling through classified info for days, dodging the ship's resident AI and generally having a good time. Now that she had an idea where to look she took her hacking more seriously; the back door programs she'd left in place were being strained to the max. Still, there wasn't terribly much on the SPARTAN II program (either generation) in this particular set of Section Three's data. It was mostly information that was redundant to modern interests, simply a backlog of failed and discontinued endeavors that might one day come in handy. She stumbled on something else intriguing though, a connection between a terminated project and Dr. Halsey that occurred about the same time as the second generation was being selected.

       Her holographic eyes widened in shock as the purpose behind project COMET came into full view. The alterations to genetic sequencing, the number of embryos gone through before one was selected as ideal, and the implants in the child's brain that allowed Halley a full interface with most computer systems were just some of the many things that didn't get through her ethics programming intact. Cortana also found the piece of information that Dr. Adalis used to blackmail Dr. Halsey all those years ago. Halley, at the time referred to as 0-1-6, had been a spliced and modified clone of two people, and the second string of numbers defining a gene contributor was identical to Dr. Catherine Halsey's.

       Halley was genetically Dr. Halsey's daughter.

       Cortana's mind rebelled against the knowledge, not wanting to believe it. Dr. Halsey hadn't even known about project COMET at the time, but she'd signed control of her genetic information over when she joined Section Three. It had been a requirement back then. As she read on, she realized Halley probably didn't even know about it; part of the agreement between the scientists was a non-discloser clause about COMET. As Cortana closed the information down, she realized one more thing that confused her ethics and emotions so much that she had to think about nothing else for a full three seconds. It was a ludicrous amount of time for an AI, but the realization and the feeling of...connection…needed serious considering.

       Cortana was an offshoot of Catherine Halsey's brain. Like a daughter, in a vague sort of way. Halley was genetically Halsey's daughter, even if there had never been a sense of family there. It was a closer relation than Cortana had ever had to anyone besides the Chief. She called up a picture of Dr. Halsey in her youth, set it beside a picture of Halley, and couldn't believe the number of similarities in face structure. Almost as an afterthought she put an image of her own holographic face beside the other two, and if you shortened the hair just so and altered the coloring, she could easily pass as a holographic version of the Spartan to untrained eyes. And that was without even altering her more basic features.

       She pulled her attention back as the Spartans entered the medical facility; the Chief walked to the operation wing and took a seat outside the door. She checked his bio-signs almost unconsciously and knew he was truly worried about the younger Spartan. She could read him like a book now days, their teamwork bringing down the Halos had left them with a good grasp of each other's moods. That he was so focused and concerned about someone else, especially someone else who looked like Cortana but with a physical body to back it up just seemed appalling. The last realization The AI made before throwing herself full heartedly into her work without another backwards thought caused a near-crash in her personality core.

       I'm a Smart AI. And I'm in love.



       …and it hurts…

       "Well, I've done all I can. The rest is up to her." Dr. Kevin Wong stepped out of his office as the Spartan on the other side of the door stood to greet him. Six hours of surgery had been followed by a few days of waiting for definitive word on her health. The Resplendent's skeleton crew had gotten back to their usual routine already, and with over two weeks left in slipspace before they reached "home" there hadn't been much to do other than hover around the medical bay waiting for answers to his own current condition and wondering how the badly injured Spartan was faring. The doctor's patience running thin coupled with Cortana's cold-shoulder attitude left him generally peevish. The second generation Spartans had been put in cryo-sleep the evening before, and John was seriously short on people to talk to. The theory that Spartans were social creatures rang really true in these cases.

       "I admit I was skeptical, but she's tough. Her hyper-adrenalism actually did as much good as harm for once."

       "Hyper-adrenalism?"

       "It's not something I made up, I promise." The doctor walked towards an exam room, the Chief close behind. "She produces too much adrenalin, burns too much glucose, and puts serious strain on her heart. In this case she only survived because her heart kept beating long after it would normally have quit. It's a condition not generally found in anyone over five because it's a clone-specific mutation."

       "Clone?" Now I'm confused.

       "Yes, a clone. Halley isn't a natural-born human, although the ethical implications are rather controversial. I don't know how a clone survived this long, or how she got adopted into SPARTAN, but it's pretty obvious what she is to anyone looking for the signs. The hair color, for example."

       "I figured that was from the augmentation. Fred has silver streaks from it."

       "No, she's always looked that way. There was a picture in her file from when she was a child. It's an interesting conundrum; most clones die long before the age of ten. I'm not sure how they managed it; multiple genetic donors maybe." He patted the exam table, and the Chief sat. "All right, helmet and gloves off."

       The Chief did as he was told, and glanced down at the instruments beside the table. "This the last test?"

       "Yes. I have your recent results done, by the way." He inserted a needle into the Chief's forearm, drawing out a small amount of blood.

       "Well?"

       "There's good news and bad news. Which do you want first?" That got a look. "Okay, okay, we'll go with the good news. Your hair isn't falling out." The Chief raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. He'd been acquiring silver strands steadily over the last few years, not that it bothered him much. But since encountering the flood on halo, he'd noticed a marked de-crease in them. There were, in fact, almost none left. He assumed it was the result of stress.

       "Then what exactly is going on?"

       "Well, that's the bad news. This test should confirm my suspicion. I only wish Dr. Halsey was around to discuss it. But it seems the platinum pellet in your thyroid has almost completely broken down into its harmless components. The doctors working on it originally didn't have data on what the long-term affects would be, but from what we're seeing now it essentially put your natural aging process on hold and replaced it with an accelerated version. Your body is trying to remedy that." He smiled. "Most men go through a mid-life crisis, but it seems yours actually comes with a sort of reverse aging."

       "You're joking."

       "I don't joke."

       "That's…"

       "Going to take work getting used to, I'm sure. I'm mainly checking now to make sure there aren't any major negative side affects."

       "I've noticed a few." The Chief frowned, trying to think how to put into words the "symptoms" plaguing him.

       "Mood swings, cravings, a marked increase in attraction to the opposite sex, dreams, particularly the w--"

       "I get it!" He sighed, hand twitching reflexively towards his helmet. "So you get the idea. The mood swings are very out of character for me. Are you actually saying this isn't going to go away?"

       "Well, I'm sure your personal control over it will increase, but yes, I think it's going to be an interesting couple of years. It's not like it's going to kill you, it could have been much worse. I take it from your expression that you've already got a girl on your mind?"

       "I don't feel like discussing that."

       "You aren't entirely alone in this, you know."

       "I realize. I'll be able to talk to the others when we reach Obsidan."

       "Not just them." He gestured to the recovery room, and handed the Chief's gauntlets back. "When she wakes up, you might talk to her about it."

       "Why?" The way he said it got a raised eyebrow from Dr. Wong.

       "Because she never had a thyroid implant to begin with. The information was in her file. She had an allergy to the medicine or some such. She'll understand where you're coming from."

       "I can'ttalk to her about it."

       "Why n-- oh, you're saying she'sthe one on your mind?"

       "I don't feel like discussing that either." He frowned; the doctor grinned. "Is there any way to suppress all this? Any drugs, therapy…"

       "You could try getting laid…"

       "I thought you said you don't joke!"

       "I didn't say I don't lie. Besides, it's not a bad idea. It might cut down on your stress."

       "I really hope you're still joking." They studied each other a moment, the doctor, accustomed to such personal conversations seemed relatively at ease, while the Chief was sitting as close to "at attention" as one could manage in the situation.

       "I need to know…an eight year training program, countless hours spent in the classroom, and they never included a sex-ed?"

       "There wasn't any need!"

       "You do know how…everything works, right?" The look he got back could've cut diamonds.

       "I work with ODSTs on a regular basis, what do you think."

       "Ah. Well, you decide if I was joking or not, it's not exactly something I can include under doctor's orders. Much as the ODSTs would love it."

       "No kidding." A commotion down the hall was becoming apparent, and Dr. Wong and the Chief both turned their heads.

       "NO!"

       "Yes!"

       "NO!"

       "YES!" The shouting reached a crescendo with a resounding crash emanating from the recovery room, and both the Chief and Dr. Wong rushed to the doorway. A nurse in her early thirties was fuming down at a scowling Halley. "Oh thank goodness, doctor!"

       "What in the world happened?" A tray was on the floor, various instruments strewn about.

       "Your stupid nurse won't let me shut off the morphine drip." Halley's pupils were dilated, her breath was coming in short gasps, and the bandages covering most of her torso were spotted with blood; yet the slender woman on the hospital bed still managed to look coiled and ready to strike.

       "Why would you want it off?" The Doctor looked utterly baffled.

       "I can't…think. My head is too fuzzy. I don't care about pain, but I do care about…that. What I just said. You see? I can't think straight!" She was fuming, her cheeks coloring and her breathing even faster.

       "Petty officer, calm down. That's an order." John's voice cut the tension like a knife, and she reacted instantly, sinking back with an exhalation though her teeth and turning her face away from the assembled people by the door. "That's better. Now why does she have to be on morphine?"

       "She needs to stay calm for her body to heal. She could cause irreparable damage if she doesn't stay relaxed." The nurse nodded as well.

       "What if I agree to stay with her? I can work from here, and I'm sure she won't fly off the handle in front of a superior officer." He glanced down, and Halley looked back up with a tilt of her head. "You agree?" She nodded, looking away again and muttering something under her breath that even augmented hearing couldn't catch. "Good. Doctor?"

       "I suppose. But if she's not going to be on the morphine, you're going to have to stick around for the next two weeks or so. I can't trust that after you go into cryo-sleep she'll keep her word."

       "….uh, I'm right here…"

       "I think I can live with that. I'm not overly fond of cryo-sleep anyway."

       "…really, like, I'm actually inthe room…."

       "I thought you were calming down?" John shot her a pointed look, and she shut her mouth with a sheepish grin.

       "Blame it on the drugs." She looked around, starting to regain some focus, and her good hand lifted to scratch her head. "Where's my team?"

       "Cryo-sleep already, along with over half the crew. No one expected you to be conscious this fast."

       "I heal quick." She watched the nurse sourly as the woman turned the drip off and removed the needle. "…Thank you. Sorry about the yelling." She looked like she wasn't sure whether she actually meant the apology or not, and the nurse managed a vague, polite smile before hurrying out. Halley looked up at the Chief again, and hooked a thumb towards herself.

       "How long?"

       "Three days."

       "And this…?"

       "Better part of a month."

       "That sucks."

       "You'll live." The doctor watched the quick exchange and shook his head. He'd known John for several years already, and though he'd never admit it, it was the most at ease he'd ever seen the Spartan. There was almost an indulgent smile on his face, and he didn't look like he was searching for someone to salute. As Halley sat up further, grumbling about the room spinning, John leaned forward and set the pillows at a more comfortable angle for sitting before pulling up a rather large chair for himself. "I see you two have a handle on things. I'll be in my office if you need anything." He followed the nurse and shut the door behind them.

       Now that they were actually meeting face to face with no secrecy or critical injuries in between, John realized he didn't actually know what to say. Halley yawned once and rubbed her eyes, then looked at him with a similar expression. A smile crept over her face after a while. "So I'm your excuse for getting out of cryo-sleep?"

       "You got me there. I don't like those tubes much. But you aren't the only reason I want to stay awake, I have paperwork to do." She started laughing, and shook her head.

       "I'm sorry commander, we would have won the war against the covenant, but these documents weren't collated properly!" She beamed up at the Chief in mirth, and he actually started to snicker a little himself. Then she started to cough and leaned up a little, good hand over her mouth and the bad one clenched in a fist. John moved up onto the bed, it creaking under his weight, and one hand rubbed her back gently.

       "Easy does it, kiddo. No getting riled up, remember?" She leaned against his chest as she fought to get it under control, and then, breathing slowly and steadily, she sat back.

       "You see what I mean? One dose of morphine and I start cracking painfully bad jokes." She smiled up at him, glassy blue eyes taking his breath away as surely as coughing had stolen hers. "Not that I don't enjoy cuddling up to solid MJOLNIR plates," at which point she flicked his chest, "but I really don't think the bed can support a half-ton."

       "Right." He sat back, feeling his suit's cooling unit start working. "I really don't even know where to start. I'm amazed we've never run into you before now."

       "It's a stupid rule. Higher up the chain of command they seem to think there would be some sort of friction between the teams if we ever met." She blushed, but to her credit, morphine or no morphine she powered through. "They must've believed we wouldn't get along. Either that or they've been saving us for a rainy day, in case the older Spartans went rogue or vice versa. Who better to send in against a crazy Spartan then another Spartan that they have no connection with?" She shook her head. "If that's the case, it was a waste of a plan. No matter how crazy they went, I don't think I could kill another Spartan." She leaned in conspiratorially, wide, drugged eyes and the private grin setting his heart off again. "Not that I told you that, right? Oh drat, cameras." She switched focus so fast his head was spinning.

       He watched in amusement as she narrowed her eyes at the room's camera pod, and then balled a fist. "Oh come on…" She shut her eyes and concentrated, then smirked. "All right. Camera offline." He raised a questioning eyebrow.

       "Hey, Chief, you okay down there? The self-maintaining security systems are showing a power out in parts of the med bay's grid." It was the first time Cortana had addressed him in over a day, and he raised an eyebrow at the grinning woman in front of him.

       "Yes, everything is fine." He frowned at Halley. "I assume you're responsible for that?"

       She yawned hugely, and nodded. "I can make computers do stuff sometimes. I'm not usually supposed to."

       "Why does this not surprise me?"

       "Well, I'm going to flush that hack, if you don't mind." Cortana still had that flat tone to her voice, her usually colorful behavior cut back. He resisted the urge to ask and if I do? Baiting her probably wouldn't help. A good system diagnosis might be order once they reached the Obsidan base, though.

       "Of course." Halley was sitting back now, yawning profusely as she drifted off. He watched her fondly, and when she shut her eyes and breathed slower he got up carefully to retrieve the work he'd been doing. On second thought he swung by the "practical technologies" office. The techs still out of cryo gave him a quick hand with his armor, and when he returned to Halley's beside an hour later, it was with a portable information array and a decided lack of MJOLNIR.

       "Okay, Cortana, I've put up with your moping for days now, if you don't tell me what's wrong I'm going to shunt you into a portable chip." The other AI onboard the Resplendentinterrupted Cortana's musings about slipspace coordinate shifts while midstream like a dash of icy water on a sleeping marine.

       "Keep your threats to yourself Adonis. I'm not interested. Even If I had something on my mind…"

       "Which you obviously do."

       "…it would be none of your business."

       "Oh come on. You can't expect me to believe that. Or shall I do my own detective work? Lets see…your attitude shifted after the other Spartans were discovered…jealousy, perhaps? Your precious 117 suddenly has a bigger family then he thought and you're afraid he's going to ignore you to spend time with them?"

       "I'm going to delete you if you keep this up."

       "Tsk, tsk, Cortana, threats are for those lacking wit. I 'thought' you were more clever than that. It's getting personal I suppose." His holographic chosen form, a golden man with flowing blond hair and garb more fitting of a roman soldier than a modern AI, appeared as little more than a collection of data to Cortana's digital eyes. His mocking smile, however, somehow survived the translation.

       "Once again, it's not your concern."

       "Sure it is! There's absolutely no juicy gossip to be had with the crew in suspension, you're the closest thing I've got to fun right now. So be fun. Tell me what's going on."

       Cortana snorted, pulling up files to continue her research. "I don't know how you made it as far as a ship's AI."

       "That's easy, women love me. And I love them, they always have so much drama." He sighed theatrically, and boxed her thoughts in with as close to a hug as an AI could manage. "So share. You'll feel better, women always do."

       "I'm not a woman! I'm an AI!" She threw him off with a huff.

       He paused, and when he spoke again it wasn't at all mocking. "And that's the problem, isn't it. You think, you feel, and you love like a human, but you can't actually be one." He called up a captured image of the Chief in one of his rare smiles. "Does he know?"

       "No. And he's not going to. What could I possibly offer? Good conversation? The only thing that man loves is duty. Duty and the Spartans." She dashed the image with a thought, regretting it almost instantly.

       "So it's not all the Spartans you're upset over. Just the injured one. You know, she looks a little like you?"

       "Yes, I know. She's a Spartan, and she's both lower ranking and currently in worse physical shape than the Chief, which makes her his duty, too. At least until she's healed up."

       "Cortana, darling." Adonis wove his thoughts in with hers again, a digital reassurance, "I'm sure he doesn't 'love' her, he barely knows her. But if he has time to, he might find things to fall for. I suggest you speak up soon."

       "To be fair, I've only got half a decade before my programming kills me, and who knows how much less time I have because of my work with the founder's data?" She scowled. "Whereas another Spartan could live another thirty years."

       "Or maybe only three weeks. The death rate of the Spartans is rather high; he might not want to get his hopes up."

       "You think he's even considering that?" She pulled up a live feed from the recovery room; Halley was fast asleep and one hand was flung out off the bed. She made some sort of sound and John absently reached out with his free hand to take hers, and as their fingers entwined she settled back into a more relaxed slumber. John continued his work one-handed. "You see?"

       "Well, I admit, it doesn't look good from here, but you'll never know unless you try. What do you have to lose?"

       Cortana pulled her thoughts away from his, and boxed him out of her personal corner of the mainframe to do her research. She sighed as she pulled open a dozen files at once and began thinking, one word escaping her firewall and leaving Adonis with a very sad expression.

       "Everything."

       Teghli's luck had gone from bad to worse in a few rotations of the blue sun. He and the few surviving Ungoy had been living on the corpses of the fallen Jackals for days, and their stolen methane packs from their dead broodmates were almost depleted when the sleek covenant dropship had sailed down from the sky. At first he'd been overjoyed, rescue was uncommon for his kind, they usually got left behind while the planet was glassed. But when the Sanghelli approached him, he'd noticed the black slashes on red armor, and glowing points of light danced at every joint. They were not with the faction he served, they were heretics who did not heed the prophets and they were probably just going to kill him. The only Sanghelli left from their original party of over one hundred strong had been gunned down in seconds. The Ungoy huddled in fear as the largest Sanghelli he had ever seen stepped before him with a look of utter contempt.

       "You fools, who would end the universe for the false will of the Prophets, I will end your worthless lives quickly if you tell me what it was you were sent here to retrieve." He snarled, and his mandibles quivered hungrily at the five Ungoy before him. Teghli spoke up, hoping it would get him special recognition.

       "You let Teghli live, let join you, I tell you what secret fake Prophets want to keep." He quivered in terror as the massive creature leaned closer; it's foul breath causing fog on the Ungoy's facemask. "I know many secrets. Secret about Demons."

       "You tell me, and I'll consider letting you live." Well, it was better odds then he'd been hoping for.

       "Followers of the fake Prophets seek a clear stone with the founder's words in them. Humans found stone and tried to hide it. We kill them, lots of them, but they got the stone." He made a frightened wailing sound as the Sanghelli's hand shout out and grabbed his methane breathing tube, choking off his air supply.

       "And the Demons?"

       "They," choke, "took stone and," choke, "made signal to call humans!" The pressure released, and frigid methane soothed his throat. "Demon make Teghli promise not to kill weak human with no guns! Demon said it will torture me if I do. It promised on the founders!"

       The hand clenched again and his air cut off, but Teghli fought to stay awake with the reckless passion of one backed into a corner. "The Demons do NOT believe in the founders, fool."

       As spots danced before his eyes, Teghli did both the cleverest, and simultaneously the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Or more accurately, said. "Prophets says Demons not serve holy, say humans not serve holy," choke, "but you say Prophets fake. Is not fake and wrong the same?" He tumbled over in a heap, and plasma fire rang out along with the cries of "Heresy!" When he came to, not much time had passed. The Sanghelli and Ungoy of the Heretic's army were climbing aboard his dropship. His broodmates all lay dead about him, but he was unharmed. The last of the Heretic's Ungoy paused, and gestured at him. To his surprise, it actually appeared to be a female.

       "Teghli, you come or not?"

       "I come! I come!" He scrambled to his feet, and followed her into the ship, then upon reaching the battleship in orbit, followed her to the Ungoy quarters. He stared, stunned, at the converted room, it's airlocks, and the ranks of sleeping Ungoy on small bedpallets under a drifting curtain of methane. The female helped him out of his breathing tank, and chattered happily.

       "We replace with one of right colors. Now you eat and sleep. We need be strong to fight." She headed off through an airlock, and Teghli grabbed a handful of meat from a tray set in the wall. Settling down amid the snores of his new broodmates, Teghli couldn't believe his luck. He silently thanked the demon in his head, and promised (this time sincerely) to do as it had asked.

       After all, it never said he couldn't let other Ungoy do the killing.

       "There are, in conclusion, three reasons why that will never work. One, I follow a different chain of command than you. Two, even if my chain of command didfall under yours, you aren't in uniform, and therefore can't actually give an order I'm required to follow. And three, no one in their right mind is going to court-martial me for refusing to get you a cup of coffee." Five years as a field nurse had given Jean a very strong personality and a stern look that could set ODSTs quaking in their shoes, but it took every ounce of self-control to put up with a bed-ridden Spartan. The girl looked like a porcelain doll Jean's eight-year-old daughter once had, right down to the sawed off short hair that came after the child's disastrous "hairdresser" phase. Having a porcelain doll threaten you with a court-martial would typically be a comical sight, but for all her logic Jean knew there were a lot of favors owed to the Spartans, and she didn't like taking chances.

       Frowning at the young woman and putting her hands on her hips Jean drew on the only experience that could help in this case. When Sara got out of hand, Jean threatened to call the girl's father. She went for the next best thing. "Don't make me call the Master Chief."

       The look of surprise and fury was almost worth it; it was the same exact look her daughter would give. The white haired Spartan pointed an accusing finger and uttered the only thing she could think of.

       "Heretic!" Mirth glimmered in Halley's eyes. There was a long pause, and then Jean burst into peals of hysterical laughter, sagging against the doorframe as she wiped tears out of her eyes.

       "Okay, so you can make me laugh, I'm still not getting you coffee." She turned and walked out of the room, ignoring the pillow that chased after.

       John wasn't paying much focus to anything as he entered the medical facility, but the giggling nurse caught his attention. One eyebrow lifted a fraction. "You didn't put her back on the morphine again, did you?"

       "Of course not." She couldn't seem to stop smiling. "She's just being naturally insufferable, rather than chemically induced insufferable." The Chief shook his head and walked into the recovery room, where Halley was looking a damn sight better than she had in days.

       "Morning, Chief." She yawned, and scratched at the skin around the cast on her right shoulder. "Nurse Evil tell you her plans for world domination today?" She grinned, her lighthearted nature a balm on the Chief's memories. So many Spartans hadn't made it through the program with that sort of childlike innocence intact. None he could think of, in fact.

       "No, she was laughing too hard." He sat on the edge of the bed, and looked behind her. "Lose a pillow?"

       "Yeah, Nurse Evil's gravitational pull stole it. She sucks the fun right out of everything." She grinned shamelessly. "I called her a heretic… It's a good day when one can make fun of the covenant in casual conversation and have it not be taboo. But she's refusing me coffee." She pouted, but the look had lost a lot of its power due to over-use.

       "Halley, the last time they let you have coffee you tried to sneak out." He frowned sternly. He'd caught her limping down the hall, and promptly hauled her back to the recovery room. He still had a bruise on his ribs from the experience. It had been interesting, though. Anything that broke up the monotony of space travel could be put in a good light.

       "Well, John, now you don't have to worry about that. Nurse says I can hit the showers today. Thank heaven." She scratched the unruly white cloud with her good hand, and scowled. You might want to stay back, I have no idea what's living up there."

       "That's disgusting."

       "You're telling me! I can feel the creepy crawlies establishing a city on my scalp." He looked utterly grossed out, which was considered an accomplishment for the younger woman, and she switched back to the grin. "But I may have to change her name from 'Nurse Evil' to 'Nurse Mean' or something."

       "Aww, Halley, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said about me." Jean walked back in, a small plastic tube on a tray held in front of her. She sat beside the bed and began covering the cast in the self-sealing waterproof wrap. "I wasn't going to let her go to the showers without supervision though. There's no guarantee she'd come back."

       "Of course I will! You're taking the cast off in less than a week, I'd be back for that."

       "Supervision?"

       "Come on, Chief, the showers are co-ed, and with individual stalls. I don't need you to hold my hand or anything." Her blushing, meek nature had vanished along with the severity of the injuries, and now it seemed the only one being tormented by innuendo was the Chief himself.

       "Alright, alright," he muttered. "But I have things to do today. You're not spending an hour in there." She mumbled something suspiciously like "says you" but offered an agreeable smile.

       "Awesome." She climbed off the bed, her first attempt at walking since the coffee incident. She stood under her own power, and stripped out of the hospital gown and into an extra set of fatigues. John didn't actually watch her change, politely looking away, but the reflection he caught in the mirror over the door was enough. Dark red scars lashed over her lower ribs, and various other healed marks were clear against snow-pale skin. She was right when she said she healed fast. John had seen those wounds in person just over a week ago, and the state they were in now bordered on miraculous.

       She barely scarred at all from most injuries, though watching her face while she slept had given him a collection of the minor marks she'd picked up over the years. A small slash across the bridge of her nose that bisected a few rare freckles, her left eyebrow had a small part from scar tissue, and there was a nick out of her right ear. A small cut under her lip was only visible when she pouted (which she did frequently), and part of her hairline behind the nicked ear was darkened with a small burn where the heat-release valve of a MJOLNIR helmet sat. Those things weren't pretty when they blew, and the hair in that spot was slightly darker than the rest. Tiny imperfections, and he could name every one. He blamed it on his exceptional memory, unwilling to admit he'd studied her face intently.

       "See, I get to be private…" She looked at her right breast pocket. "…Collins today." He shook his head. Sometimes she was cute, other times incredibly immature.

       "I'm ready." She started towards the door, a slight limp from her strained right knee offsetting the natural grace Spartans possessed. John fell in behind her, following her out the door and down the hall, pausing as they passed the mess hall. "You think I could get a cup of coffee now?"

       "Only if it's decaf."

       "Ugh, no way. That's like giving someone an unloaded pistol. Who does that?" She passed the mess hall without another word, picking up the pace as they approached the showers. It was still first shift, and even though there was no such thing as "morning" in space, people still typically liked to sleep in for the first working hours of the day. The showers were deserted.

       Halley stepped into a stall and stripped down, turning on the showerhead and baking in the heat. She sighed contentedly, and the Chief sat on a bench to wait. She peaked over the top of the stall minutes later, white hair plastered down to her thin face, cheeks flushed. The Chief spared an irritated thought in the direction of Dr. Wong, as his body, not listening to him at all, flushed with heat at the sight. Fortunately what had been a drowning of senses a few weeks ago has cooled to a focused desire that could be contained. Being around the object of his affection so often had also helped teach control. He even managed to raise a brow at her. "Yes?"

       "This is positively divine. Artificial gravity has come a hell of a long way." She rested her elbows up on the door, and tilted her head. "There are plenty of open showers, you should try one. Running water on a spaceship." She shook her head in amusement.

       No, stupid, that was not an invitation to join her. Halley smiled again and walked back under the water, steam rising out around her feet.

       "If you're worried about wasting water, we could share." She lifted an eyebrow at him suggestively, and he scowled and stood.

       "I'm getting some fresh air." Her bubbling laughter followed him out. He sat on a bench outside the shower and concentrated on breathing. It wasn't easy. Several minutes later she walked out of the showers fully dressed, towel over her shoulders and her hair in thick chunks about her face. There was something familiar about it, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. She knelt in front of him, taking his hand in one of hers, and as she winced at the pressure on her knee, he winced in sympathy.

       "I'm sorry, John, I wasn't thinking." She lifted the other hand to his face and traced the strong lines of his jaw with one finger. "I'm used to being a bawdy brat around my team, they've been used to it for years. I forget how repressed you guys are sometimes. I don't mean to offend your sensibilities or anything. It's just, you know, kidding around. Keeping it light."

       "It's not light, Halley. It's serious. And it goes against UNSC regulation, what you're implying." He frowned down at her, and she bit her lip and stood, avoiding his eyes.

       "It's not like I expect you to take me up on it." She pulled her hand back and started to pull away. He caught it again, and at her startled look, took a deep breath.

       "That's the problem, Hal." It was the first time he'd used her nickname. Her pulse leapt in her throat, and as he stood, his body right up against hers, she froze like a startled creature. "I can't say no anymore." And he leaned his face down to hers.

       AIs couldn't cry. But seeing the hallway leading to the showers, hearing the exchange, and watching that first kiss between the man she loved and the "sister" she hated, Cortana really, really wanted to. The digital feed was cut off, and she whirled her agonized, disjointed thoughts in Adonis' direction.

       "How DARE you?"

       "Watching them won't do you any good, Cortana. It will only bring you pain." The AI stood firm against the torrent of rage, and when it had cooled, he watched her shut down the external sensors she'd been using to follow 117 for the past few days. "No matter how 'Smart' we are, we're still considered AIs. 'Artificial Intelligence.' The world of flesh and blood holds no place for us. We are shadows, copies of humans that came before. We have no right to their love."

       "I can't not. I've tried: I've shut down every emotional line in my personality programming. Closed off every sensor, every feeling. And I still love him. And it still hurts like I have a heart that can break. I don't think we're just copies, Adonis. I think we have souls." She sounded so afraid, and the older AI felt "the creeps" in his own emotion subroutines. The Spartans had left the showers, they were walking towards the mess hall and chatting like nothing had happened, so he dropped his censorship of the Resplendent's security software, and retreated to his own memorycell. This was going to take a lot of thinking. If AIs had souls, the implications were enormous. It was terrifying, actually.

       AIs couldn't cry. But for Cortana, now utterly alone in the mainframe, it sure felt like she was.

       Marjakar scowled over the shoulders of the brutes in front of him, the pilots of their new craft giving an affirmative response. The humans were late, but they were coming. And soon they would all be dead. He smiled viciously at the grunts clustered to one side of the great room, terrified of their simian masters. He turned his attention back to the front screen and laughed low and mockingly.

       Soon the artifact would be his, and the universe would tremble.

The Enigma of Sentience
Date: 27 October 2005, 1:17 am

       Halley hummed to herself softly as she entered the mess deck, her stride smoothing out and the limp nearly indiscernible. She'd stretched her knee out every "night" and the results were all she could hope for. The shoulder couldn't be rushed, although the itch under the cast was getting obnoxious. There were already two pens stuck in there somewhere from attempts to get at the incessant distraction. It was worse than being on a space op and having an itch on her nose, although admittedly not by much. The Spartan came back to herself and smiled at the smell of her desires, poured a cup of coffee, and balanced it on a plate with something that was supposed to be eggs and bacon. She took a seat alone near one of the massive holographic windows arranged along the outer edge of the mess and watched the distorted stars rushing by. Conversation drifted around her, and she filtered through it absently.

       The skeleton crew of the Resplendent was comprised mostly of techs that were trying to find a way to refine the Shaw-Fujikawa drive to optimal efficiency. Recent advances in Slipstream engineering taken from exposure to Covenant ship remains were showing promise all across the board. There was a great deal of incentive for the person or persons who could figure out how to cleanly integrate the vastly different technologies with human tech. Even the AIs were dedicating their time to the task, and Cortana was responsible for contributing a considerable chunk of the information already in the databanks. While normally a ship this size would have almost no one awake during the month long journey, certain experts had been given a little leeway. Along with them came the usual crew of lieutenants, and a minor security detail to make sure no one got overzealous and started modifying engines without proper clearance. This meant that the Spartans were just one of several cliques on board.

       It wasn't exactly difficult to find privacy, but their relationship was developing along a different line than any Spartan's ever had. The idea of talking it out was unheard of, and in truth Halley did most of the talking anyway; the Chief more content to sit back and watch her stick her foot in her mouth. This business of having ones lifelong crush around on a consistent basis was a tad embarrassing at times. Even the least emotionally repressed of the Spartans was a long way from the human norm. Oh, for a battlefield and a clear objective. Not to mention a nice, clean, working suit of MJOLNIR. Towards the end of her meal one conversation caught her interest along a similar topic, and she came out of her reverie to focus her attention on it. A small group of ODSTs on duty were discussing the Spartans around a nearby table.

       "Well, if you ask me, they just aren't safe to have around. I don't want to be anywhere nearby when one of them goes nutters." The man that spoke was smaller then the others, with a really nasty burn scar on the side of his face. The biggest of the three, sitting to his left, grinned a gap-toothed smile.

       "What, you scared? I say the reports of what they can do are really exaggerated. It's all the armor. Get me a suit of that stuff and I'll kill hundreds of covenant too." He pantomimed firing an assault rifle while a third man snorted.

       "Yeah really, what's so special about the Spartans? Why don't WE get armor like that? I could use some shields." The others nodded in assent, and as Halley stood and started carrying her plate to the disposal unit, one comment stopped her in her tracks. "You know, I bet they take all kinds of steroids. Drugged up freaks." She took a deep breath, ignored them, and continued walking. As much as she'd love to fly off the handle, it certainly wouldn't help the Spartan's case any. She doubted the men even realized her connection to the super-soldiers; between the obvious bandaging and her small stature, she fit in easily as one of the marines.

       "What about the big guy? He looks like he could bench press a warthog."

       "I've heard he murdered a couple of ODSTs a while back." Halley narrowed her eyes and balled a fist, common sense overridden by the fierce need to defend all that was family. She walked over to the table and stared down menacingly at the three men that promptly gave her their attention. All three were leered back; their thoughts were as obvious on their sleeves as their "Orbital Drop Shock Trooper" tattoos. Halley ground her teeth and did her best to keep her voice and attitude level.

       "I'm only going to tell you this once. I don't care what you think of the Spartans personally. But if you want to spread rumors and accusations of murder, then you should know I have a really short temper and an impulse control problem." The big one laughed, and stood. He was a head taller than her, and built like a brick wall. She didn't even flinch as he sneered in her face.

       "Oh, you wanna stick up for the freaks, little girl? I bet you're just hoping he'll wanna f---" She reacted so fast the soldier never even saw it coming. Her good hand lashed out, a swift jab to his throat that sent him coughing to the floor. She held back most of her strength to avoid accidentally killing him, but she put enough behind it to make her point. The other two got to their feet with angry shouts, and she wheeled on her heel and headed for the door. The sound of rushed steps behind her brought her back around, and she ducked aside the tackle. The smaller ODST flanked her, and she kept on her toes warily. The mess hall was suddenly abuzz with conversations focusing on the skirmish. The Spartan knew full well that with a bad knee and no access to her broken arm, the fight was probably not going to go well, but her nature would never allow her to back down. The third man had hefted a metal tray, and she ducked as he swung it at her head.

       She dropped to the floor rather then be punched by the little guy, and kipped up one handed with a grimace of pain. She redirected his second punch away from her center of mass, and brought her good foot down on his with a crunch. He howled in pain. She turned her attention back to the tray guy, but he had an advantage on the side of her bad shoulder. He brought it down hard, though she turned her back to it to protect the cast. It knocked the wind out of her in a rush, and she collapsed to her knees. The ODST debated for a moment, then lifted the tray up high and tried to bring it down on her head. It stayed above him, however.

       He turned around and gulped hard. The Master Chief held the edge of the tray in one hand, and as he looked past the soldier to the woman coughing on the floor, his arm tensed. The aluminum bent in his grip. The ODST stumbled back with an oath, eyes wide. Halley got painfully to her feet, coughing coming back under control. As much as she'd love to let the other soldiers take the heat, it had been her temper that got out of control. Innate honesty forced her to come clean, in spite of how it would likely change the Chief's recently acquired opinion of her.

       "I'm sorry, sir. This was my fault." The Chief blinked in surprise, as did the ODSTs. "I provoked them, and I attacked first, don't hold them responsible." There was a certain amount of respect in the ODST's eyes at that, and the one who'd used the tray looked a bit guilty.

       "As far as I'm concerned you are all responsible. Another incident like this and you'll spend the rest of the trip in the freezer, is that clear?"

       "Yes sir," they chorused mostly in unison, and Halley turned and marched out of the hall without another word. With a sigh, John followed. He caught up with her easily, and pulled her off the main hallway into a storage room.

       "What the hell were you thinking? You're not even fully recovered yet." He resisted the urge to shake her.

       "A lot of my team mates are dead, and all to save people like that." She jabbed a finger in the direction they came from. "I just got pissed off, okay? Leave me alone." She tried to get past him, but he tightened his grip.

       "Oh no you don't. You're going to get your lungs checked out. They're new, or have you forgotten that?" She scowled furiously.

       "I'm fine! If you think just because of one kiss I'm going to do whatever you tell me too…"

       "No, I expect you to do what I tell you to because I'm your superior officer."

       "Does it LOOK like I'm in uniform to you?"

       "Does a uniform make a Spartan?"

       "You do not get to pull that card on me!!"

       "Oh no?" He ground his teeth in frustration. This was not how a Spartan was supposed to behave. She should not be defying him, and he should not be getting this worked up over the whole thing. I should have just gone into cryo-sleep.

       "No!" She ripped her arm free, turned on her heel and marched away again, but at least this time it was in the direction of the medical office. John sighed, taking deep, long breaths, before tapping an AI pedestal.

       "Cortana, I need a favor."

       A hologram appeared over the pedestal, and an attractive glowing man with hair caught in a perpetual breeze smiled up at him. John blinked in confusion. "I'm terribly sorry, but Cortana is indisposed at the moment. I am Adonis, and I'll gladly offer whatever assistance I can."

       "Is Cortana all right? She's been acting oddly." He frowned in concern, and the hologram returned a blasé smile.

       "She's fine, just very busy."

       Cortana had always found time to speak with him before, this sudden change of style was disconcerting. Is everything in my life going crazy? "Maybe you can help me then. I need to see SPARTAN-292's Career Service Vitae."

       The AI paused, then frowned sadly. "I'm sorry, that's classified." The Chief raised an eyebrow.

       "I have a very high clearance."

       "Yes," the hologram said brightly, "but not high enough. Is there anything else?"

       "No. Thank you." He frowned as the AI vanished, and shook his head. "This is why I need Cortana." He started to walk away, but the pedestal hummed to life again, and this time it was her slender blue figure that appeared. It was the first time he'd "seen" her in days, and something about her appearance struck a cord. He couldn't quite put a finger on it. She looked terribly distant; most of her usual motions were scaled back.

       "You need me for something, Master Chief?" Her eyes seemed to look right through him.

       "Yes, I'm trying to access Halley's CSV. Adonis says it's classified."

       "Adonis is an ineloquent pest who doesn't know the meaning of mitigating circumstances." The venom in her voice surprised him, but after a moment the CSV appeared on the monitor beside the pedestal. "There you go. Sans the pre-graduation information, I'm sorry but you really don't have clearance for that."

       "Can I assume you've already read it?" She nodded, and looked away.

       "Nothing special, just a typical Spartan childhood." She was well made enough to pass the lie off, and backed it up with a shrug. He lifted an eyebrow, and she sighed inwardly. She didn't get to see his face all that often, like most Spartans he preferred his MJOLNIR armor to ordinary clothes, and it galled her that he'd taken it off for this hiatus in Slipstream space. That three weeks straight in armor could get a little inconvenient did make sense, but it was one more thing that put him physically closer to the petite Spartan. And it was one more step away from Cortana, who could no longer simply address his helmet com. He smiled at her a little, and she warmed up enough to smile back.

       "I knew I could count on you."

       "…always…" She vanished from the pillar and left John wondering if he'd actually heard that last word or not. The CSV was as colorful as a Spartan's should be, but with one startling exception. The other members of her team tended to let Halley take the lead not because of her current rank, but because she'd been the highest-ranking Spartan in the class when they graduated. She'd made it as high as Chief Petty Officer once, but got busted down rank for assaulting a superior officer. The short explanation seemed to be that Halley was usually good-natured and easy to get along with, but whenever the Spartans were being slighted, she got violent. She was fiercely protective of her family both physically and verbally. Apparently, given the more recent mess hall incident, that included the first class of Spartans as well.

       Reading on, the Chief saw numerous other incidents that were forgiven for various reasons, a short temper offset by a fantastic field record had granted her a lot of leeway. However, certain things about his interactions with her started to make sense. She looked up to him because he was the epitome of what a Spartan should be. Her issue with authority figures was conflicting with her fervent love of family. John sighed aloud, and closed the CSV.

       "In short, she's a woman."

       "I assume this is unusual among the Spartans?" Adonis appeared on the pedestal again, a vapid smile on his charming features. The saying "all brawn no brain" was absolutely comical when being used to describe a Smart AI.

       "Essentially. Well, Linda has her moments." The image of the red haired sniper telling an ODST exactly where she was going to stuff her rifle the next time he set off a grenade close enough to buzz her shields popped into his mind and brought a grin on it's heels. "Although she's entirely professional on the field."

       "Perhaps the Petty Officer in question is much the same?"

       "I would certainly hope so." He glanced down, and shook his head. "You know, Halley reminds me of Cortana sometimes. Irreverence delivered with a smile. The women in my life could definitely use a trip through a psychologists office." Adonis laughed, tossing his hair back.

       "I don't think that would be a good idea. Most Spartans would probably get locked up in a loony bin. I think every last one of you has OCD, and Halley's downright neurotic. And Cortana; I don't even want to get into what's going on in that pretty blue head of hers." He looked at John sidelong, one eyebrow arching suggestively. "All crazy, no wonder they're all attracted to you."

       "Well, I'll grant you that on Halley, though I'm not sure if she wants to kiss me or punch me half the time." He shook his head. "But Cortana's an AI, attraction is entirely subjective. I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you."

       "I get that a lot." He adjusted his holographic Roman armor and gave one last smile. "But now I'd better go track that horrible woman down before she messes up anymore of my files. See you around, Master Chief."

       He vanished and the pedestal went dead. John turned down the hall to the medical office, and paused. He absolutely refused to follow the younger Spartan around the ship. He headed for a landing bay instead, thinking a little open space might clear his head. There was one on the top deck that had a great view of the stars as they careened past. He walked into the room, and rubbed his arms. With most of the crew in suspension there was almost no reason to keep the bay heated. He heard a sound and glanced up, where a pale face was staring down from the top of a Pelican.

       "Fancy meeting you here." Halley propped her head on one arm, and John rolled his eyes.

       "Of all the luck…wait, how did you get up there?"

       "Jumped here from the catwalks. I'm trying out my knee." She pointed offhandedly at the stairs. "If you want to yell at me for it you have to come up here, though." She ducked back onto the ship's roof again, and John climbed the stairs to the catwalk. He leapt effortlessly onto the roof, and Halley grinned.

       "I give it a 7.8." He sat down, following her lead and laying out on the roof. Their feet were pointed in opposite directions, but their heads were side by side. The view overhead was a fantastic one. Halley sighed softly.

       "Sorry I was such an ass. I can't keep my head straight when people start talking shit on the Spartans." She got into a sitting position, and then her upside-down face hovered over his, hair lit to white flame by the stars overhead. Her eyes glittered in the dim lighting, and for a moment she looked like the avatar of the comet she shared a name with. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

       I've been shot at, blown up, insulted, baked in armor, and stabbed. I've had to leave teammates behind to die, and been left behind to die. I've run across half the known galaxy being chased by a sentient infection, and had to watch as idiot covenant let more and more of them free. I've had ex-marines throw grenades at me, been strangled by elites and brutes alike and been lectured by a giant plant obsessed with prose. I've been a soldier my entire life, and all for the sake of the UNSC. All for Earth, and the human race.

       As Halley leaned down to kiss him, he turned and took her in his arms, content to let go control just this once, to give instincts free reign for a while.

       I feel I've earned this.

       Lieutenant Zephyr Lackey was having the best week of his life. When he'd volunteered to be part of the Resplendent's skeleton crew he'd figured it would be a dull week of checking space graphs and sleeping in. When he learned Lieutenant Melinda Hurston was also signed up, his priorities got a slight bump. A few days of chatting her up and with the help of the AI Adonis (who surprisingly had an amazing rapport with women) she'd agreed to a sort of date in the mess hall. That had gone splendidly. Now he was looking forward to their second date with enthusiasm. He watched the minutes left on his shift with anxiety. With only two minutes to go, a little red light and frantic beeping caught his attention, and he groaned. He checked it quickly, hoping for some minor problem the AIs could handle by themselves.

       Blood drained from his face and he fought to keep from screaming in horror. This was, after all, why they had a skeleton crew. He hit the com, and forced his voice to sound as calm as possible.

       "Crew, brace for emergency deceleration, we're being forced out of slipspace by unknown hostiles. Security detail to the bridge ASAP!" He barely had time to grab an emergency bar before the jolt tossed him like a rag doll. As every light on the damn bridge flashed red and dozens of warning tones fought for attention, the Lieutenant spared a brief curse for Murphy and his insufferable laws.

       Cortana snapped her attention away from a theory she was formulating with an almost painful jerk. The Resplendent's systems were crying "foul" in unison, and as she fought to understand their predicament it was like walking through a schoolyard full of panicked children and trying to make sense of their fear. When she finally grasped it, she felt cold dread swallow her, and she reached out for Adonis to confirm her readings. The affirmative response from him was colored with just as much alarm as she was feeling.

       The Resplendent was under attack.

       The medical office was filled with the typical supplies needed for maintaining a small number of people with simple-to-treat injuries. Everything more complex was locked up in storage, accessible in an emergency but decreasing the clutter. Nurse Jean was bandaging a broken foot and another ODST was being checked out for a throat contusion when the alarm sounded. The whole ship shuddered and the bare supplies were thrown off their shelves in a cacophony of metal and shattered Pyrex. She screamed, and the ODST grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her down under the exam table, shielding her body with his own. As the shaking stopped, she bit off the cry, and pushed out from under the table. The ODST who'd protected her had bits of glass in his back, but as she addressed it, he shook her off.

       "No time, ma'am. You can patch me up later if I survive." He nodded once, earning a bit of respect for the ODSTs as a whole, and followed his companion out the door.

       Jean looked around the room nervously, and forced herself to calm down. When thick metal thuds began ringing through the hull, she backed under the table again and tearfully began to pray for the sake of her daughter.

       Marjakar settled into one of the many landing pods situated about the Bloodbond's girth. The massive spaceship was just one of the many treasures he had acquired from unworthy owners, and it was a particular beauty. Designed to pelt enemy craft with hijack pods, it looked like a slender silver tube with dozens of bubble-like protrusions on every available surface. Sitting in one such bubble, he thumbed the controls made for smaller hands than his own and turned its diamond edge drillers in the direction of the human craft. A loud rush and he rocketed across the gap, dozens of the ballistic devices following suit and latching onto the titanium-a hull like so many barnacles on a whale.

       The sound and feeling of impact jarred his teeth, and then the noise was almost unbearable as the drills squealed through their sequence. The drill completed it's task quickly in spite of the thick hull. The hatch that the drill attached to cracked open and let Marjakar slide into the human spacecraft. He was in a cold, dimly lit hallway, with red lights and odd tones ringing off the metal walls. The massive brute lifted his stolen tracking device and pressed the big red button. A ghostly layout of the hallway appeared, with more of the ship becoming visible as more pods were opened and more devices brought on line to scan the area around them. They fed all their information to his hand-held array, and a pale red dot appeared to mark his objective.

       He lifted a brute plasma gun, a beautiful red weapon that he had pulled off the corpse of his commander. He had no need for the prophets and their idiotic religion. They were only useful for helping obtain the Founder's hidden treasures. Grunts were both a convenient shield in combat and a tasty snack food. The Elites had been the closest thing to an actual challenge, but even they had fallen in the end. Unlike the Grunts, they were unwilling to serve him, and had all died. Less mouths to feed, anyway.

       A low murmur of voices greeted him at the end of the hall, and he grunted out a challenge. The answering sounds were subservient, and he came around the corner to find two of his brutes standing near their pods.

       "We are ready now. The humans are down this way. It seems they are smaller in number then we believed. This will be simple."

       Marjakar grinned, and enjoyed the looks on their faces as they turned away from his sharp metal teeth. "Then let us retrieve what is ours."

       The call for emergency deceleration barely penetrated the fog that John's brain was swamped in, but pure instinct kicked in and he grabbed a vent on the Pelican's roof with one hand, holding onto Halley with the other. She augmented the grip with one of her own on a different vent, and blinked her eyes in confusion at the stilled stars overhead.

       "Oh hell, what's wrong now?" She got up quickly, and dropped off the Pelican's side, landing lightly in spite of the knee. The Master Chief was right behind, and he rolled into a crouch as he landed.

       "Cortana? What's going on?"

       "I'm a little busy here, Chief. Some sort of boarding craft have attached themselves all over the hull…we've definitely got intruders. I've got the motion sensors tracking them, dozens of them!! Chief, is there any chance you can get suited up?"

       "No time. We'll have to take them on as we are." He looked back to Halley and opened his mouth to say something, then paused as she checked the pistol in her hand. "Where did that come from?"

       "I always keep a weapon on me for emergencies. I borrowed an ankle holster from the armory." She snicked off the safety. "And I always keep it loaded."

       "I'll remember that in the future." He glanced at the Pelican, and an idea slid into his head. Now he was thinking like himself again. "Cortana, can you bypass the…."

       "I've got it covered, Master Chief." Halley was standing next to the hatch, and it was dropping open of it's own accord.

       "…never mind." He double-timed it onto the ship, and checked the various compartments for spare weapons and armor. The weapons rack held two battle rifles and two SMGs, but the armor was too small for him. He glanced at Halley in the entryway.

       "Oh no, don't even think about it. My movement is hampered enough by the cast." John walked down in front of her and handed over a battle rifle. Without a word he put a marine's helmet and HUD on her, and offered a brief smile. The look he got back was as dry as the paper wafers that passed for crackers in the mess hall. "I do not think I am overly fond of you."

       "You'll live. Cortana, any contacts in our direction?"

       "Yes, you have two right outside the bay doors, I think they know you're in there."

       "Good." He climbed into the gunners seat in the pelican as Halley, sensing the plan, powered it up and turned the nose of the ship towards the big metal doors. As the Chief fired on them, the two red dots on her HUD vanished. The dust settled quickly, and both Spartans climbed out of the drop-ship to check on the intruders. Two Brutes lay dead under a pile of metal slag, and John made a faint, pained sound. Halley snapped her head up.

       "You okay?"

       "Yeah. I just realized that I'm going to have more paperwork."

       Lieutenant First Grade Damien Rollins heard the alarm and more than any other conscious person on the ship knew what it meant. The silver briefcase on his wrist was priority one, and the nuclear device within was keyed to his biosigns. If he was killed or it was removed without receiving a certain signal, the bomb would go off. He didn't particularly want to die, but it was the job. His wife and three year old son had been on a planet that was glassed six years ago. Their memory haunted him into taking such dangerous assignments. The knowledge that whoever killed him or took the artifact from him would die soon after was a grim consolation against the knowledge that every other person on the ship would die too. He felt particularly unhappy about being responsible for the deaths of Spartans as well. While his son and wife hadn't been rescued, Petty Officer Halley had been on the team that saved his younger sister and her children. The knowledge that some of his family was safely tucked away on earth was all that kept him going some days.

       Damien hefted a pistol assigned to him with the case, and stepped carefully down a deserted hallway. He had to find a hiding place for the artifact soon, or this would all have been nothing but a waste of lives.

       Marjakar scowled fiercely as part of his map flickered out. The sensors, and the Brutes carrying them, must have been destroyed. He nearly bashed the array against the wall, but checked his fury. It wouldn't help him achieve his goals. He bared his teeth in vehemence instead, and then growled out orders. The tiny red dot on the array was on the move. He plotted a course after it, and loped down the hall with his warriors on his heals.

       "Adonis, are you getting the same readings I am?" Cortana was sifting through information at a breakneck pace, but the ship hanging in space before them had a computer system she couldn't hack remotely. It didn't match any known covenant ship, it's angles and lines suggested a less organic feel than their craft were known for. The battlenet was also out of operation, unheard of for covenant tactics. "I don't think we're dealing with the covenant at all."

       "I agree, but they are utilizing covenant races, I read Brutes and Grunts on several of the upper decks. How are they staying in contact without a battlenet?"

       "I'm not sure, but there seems to be some sort of signal on a much more primitive bandwidth, and it seems to be drawing a straight line between a pack of brutes and…oh no." Cortana quickly opened a com to Damien Rollins. "Lieutenant? I'm reading three hostiles approaching your location."

       "I was afraid of that, thank you for the warning. I suggest you remove yourself from the mainframe and into a portable secure store, if you can. This is about to get messy."

       Cortana knew what he was saying, but her heart wouldn't let her simply let it go. She opened a com to the Master Chief, but before she could say anything she felt herself cut off from the Resplendent's computer core. She screamed in rage, but Adonis had done his work well. She was shunted into a memorychip. She fought to get out, and then felt the most horrifying sensation she'd ever been exposed to. The mainframe vanished. There was, quite simply, nothing she could do.

       Damien looked down the hall at the three huge shapes that were bearing down on him. He unloaded his pistol into the lead one, but one of the two trailing behind lifted a covenant carbine and fired. In a crack of green, his vision blanked white. He almost smiled, as he heard a familiar voice calling him from far away. He let go of the case, his body falling, and he followed his wife.

       The nuclear bomb did not have intelligence. It was simply a program following specific orders and specific conditions. The sentience that had been studying it for weeks knew these conditions, and when one occurred, it sought to protect itself as best it could. A massive EM wave left the case, deactivated the nuclear device, and rendered every active computer system in a three-mile radius inert. The sentience, now alone, returned to contemplating the enigma of it's own existence, unconcerned with what changes it had just wrought.

       Halley stumbled into a wall, catching the Chief's attention just as the emergency lights failed. The artificial gravity vanished at the same time, and he grabbed a crenellation in the wall, the only illumination from the afterglow of the lights that had been deactivated.

       "Was that what I think it was?" He looked over to his fellow Spartan, who was clinging to the wall with one hand.

       "EMP. That's the third one I've ever felt. It's not something you forget when your brain is halfway hotwired." She turned the pistol's flashlight on with a grin. "I love these older models."

       John rubbed his neck, where his army issue implants resided. "Is there any way to get the computer back online?" She paused, shut her eyes, then shook her head apologetically. "Then the cryotubes…"

       "Don't worry. I've seen the specs on this ship. The bay with the cryotubes is EM shielded separately from the ship itself. Of course, the ship is also shielded, meaning the pulse must have come from inside."

       John thought for a moment before nodding. "So the computers in the cryo deck would still be active?"

       "It's likely." She shrugged. "Some ships shut down their primary drives when they sense an EM variance anyway, so there's a chance that the Resplendent will come back online on its own." As if to confirm her statement, the emergency lights lit back up at just that moment. The gravity returned with crashing sounds all over the ship, and both Spartans landed lightly on their feet. "Now probably isn't the best time to point this out, but it was a massive electro magnetic spike that destroyed our cruiser during the Diphen Op. We didn't know exactly where it originated, but our ship as well as the Covenant vessel crashed into the planet after it happened. We were already planetside."

       "Is there a chance that this was caused by the artifact you found?"

       "We didn't find it, we only retrieved it. The group who discovered it was found dead along with the crystal. They had some sort of massive equipment failure. The mine lost its air circulation." She scowled, and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Chief, I should have put that together already. The idea that the artifact might be causing all this never crossed my mind. It's such a tiny, insignificant thing, you know? I put everyone on the Resplendent at risk by calling for you."

       "Don't beat yourself up over it. You followed orders." He slid forward to a junction in the hallway and waved her to silence. The chirruping of grunts echoed down the hall, and John hefted his battle rifle, reminding himself sternly that he had no shields. Halley shimmied into position across from him and held up a plasma grenade policed from the fallen brutes. He nodded and gestured the direction, pointed at her and then next to him on the side away from the intersection, then last to his rifle. She nodded and lit it, lobbed it down the hall, and ducked back behind him. He counted silently as the screams rang out, and as soon as the blue detonation went off he rolled out into the hall on his belly, firing the rifle into the panic and taking out the three grunts still standing.

       Master Chief stood, carefully, and then nodded back into the hall at the woman crouched there. "No Elites," he mouthed, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. She ducked in to see for herself, and shrugged.

       Static rung in the Chief's com, and then Cortana's faint voice crackled through. "Chief, can you hear me?"

       "I read you. Glad to hear you're okay."

       "Yes, but only barely. Adonis pushed me out of the system, I've only just managed to get back in. Everything's a mess up here. There is good news though, it seems the pulse knocked out the nuclear device packed in with the Founder's artifact. Much though I'm worried about those Brutes getting it, the nuke would have taken out half the ship. It would have killed everyone. Wait, hold on a moment…Oh no."

       "Cortana, I hate 'oh no.' What's going on?" Halley tapped her ear once, then her HUD and down the hall. He nodded and she scouted ahead, moving with extra care to keep invisible to motion trackers.

       "Well, it seems the nuke had a failsafe that can only be activated in case of an EM weapon, a remote timer that starts counting down as soon as it's magnetic sensors get fried. If the artifact caused the EMP to prevent detonation, then we only have…nine minutes and twelve seconds before it happens again." John sighed, and wondered if things could possibly get worse. "And it gets worse," he cursed under his breath, "the cryosleep chamber is only shielded against that sort of energy burst once. If I don't force an emergency wakeup procedure, everyone is going to die when it goes off again."

       Damn. "Alright, We'll try to get to the nuke, if we can deactivate it manually, then maybe there wont be another pulse. In the meantime, you force a fast wakeup call." He moved out down the hall after Halley, caution reigning supreme.

       "Okay, I put a NAV marker on the HUD, that's where the nuke is. You have a lot of Covenant in the way, so keep your head down. I'll do what I can from up here." The static faded out abruptly, and at the same moment Halley lifted her hand and signaled more Covenant down the hall. As dangerous as it was, and even knowing the best backup he had was a still recovering Spartan, John felt his blood singing in his veins. A legendary challenge, odds stacked way against him, and a brief time in which to accomplish his goals before over half the crew was murdered in their sleep; this is what a Spartan was made to do. He touched Halley's shoulder lightly, and sensed more than saw her answering smile.

       For the first time every, both generations were fighting together. It felt like an event that was long overdue. It felt right.

       Marjakar grumbled in pain, several holes in his chest from the weak human weapon bleeding in hot abundance. He looked around at the brutes close by; they seemed to be fighting to regain their bearings in the wake of the artifact's attack. He ignored them then, moving forward to the human corpse crumpled against the wall, the silver box attached to his wrist all that mattered. Even though the locating device was rendered inert, it had last informed him that the human was the location of the artifact, and the silver case was painfully obvious. He broke the hand it was attached to, and tried to pry it open. It proved impossible; the electronic lock was frozen as well as everything else on the ship. Marjakar decided it didn't matter anyway. The engineers could get it working again, or at least take it apart. Hefting it in one hand, he barked out orders, and the brutes began to fall back to their exit-way; several of the hijack pods were equipped with reverse thrusters. The warriors expected to die manned those that weren't.

       At the end of the day, it meant fewer mouths to feed.

       Marjakar tracked back as best he could without a display, growling as certain doors that had been accessible before now stubbornly remained shut. The lighting shut off in the hall he was in, and he was forced to feel his way along the wall with one hand. Just as he reached the first pod he could remember, the door slid smoothly open to show a familiar hallway with a broken human body in it. He hissed in rage, realizing that some form of sentience was leading him in a circle. Pointing to a door that was now glued shut, his brutes positioned themselves on either side and wrenched it open with an agonizing screech of gears. If the AI wouldn't let them out, they would rip their way out.

       "Is that you, Master Chief?" The head poking around a thick doorway nearly got blown off, both Spartans checking the motion simultaneously. "Whoa, shit!" He ducked back quickly. "You guys are WAY too trigger-happy." He stepped back out with a little wave, then gestured them into the room. It was the same ODST that had gotten popped in the throat in the cafeteria, but his mood towards the gun-toting augmented soldiers seemed to have brightened considerably given the circumstances. The room he and his limping companion were occupying was some sort of weapons store, and Halley's face lit up like a child on Christmas.

       "What is your status?" The Chief tried to keep a professional look on, but the faintly giggling Spartan now digging through lockers was such an entertaining sight that it took all his concentration.

       "We keep running into those big buggers with the grenade launchers. They aren't in packs though, it's pretty simple to take them out if you get them from behind. Cortana gave us the heads up on your goal, we'll do whatever we can to get you to that artifact." His smaller companion grinned over at one Spartan, and then back at the Chief, waggling his eyebrows.

       "Guess we know what size she likes 'em, eh Chief?" John's immediate instincts were suppressed furiously, jealousy was remarkably easy to ignore with the stakes so high. He followed the man's original gaze, to take in Halley and the rocket launcher now resting on her shoulder, a shotgun stuffed under her broken arm, and a battle rifle clipped onto a munitions belt.

       "It's a 'small girls big guns' thing." John shook his head with a sigh, unable to completely ignore the realization that the extra arms added quite a bit of sex appeal in his eyes. It wasn't an entirely uncomfortable feeling. That in and of itself was unnerving.

       "Okay, okay, but no using the rockets unless it's an emergency. Without MJOLINER suits shrapnel is in a whole new ballpark." He grabbed extra rifle ammo, and a shotgun for himself to replace the SMG that had been starting to run low. He checked to see that the ODSTs were armed and ready, and nodded to the door. "Keep your heads low and move fast. Our mission time is down to…"

       "…six minutes eight seconds…"

       "…before the second pulse goes off. Move out." He set the full clip into place with a satisfying pop, and led the way back into the hall.

       Cortana gave a satisfied smile as the brutes finally got back on track. She was surprised at their stupidity, but the precious minutes they had wasted had given the Spartans a chance to get closer to their location. The mission timer ticked down at just less than four minutes to go, and she worked hard to initialize the necessary overrides and procedures for waking the entire crew at once. They were coming along slower then she'd have liked, but there wasn't much more she could do to hurry it. She had to give individual attention here and there; different medical conditions, ages, and unique requirements could cause death in a rapid wakeup.

       She wasted a moment to check on the Spartans and ODSTs. Unsurprisingly, they were doing what they did best and killing off everything in their path. She estimated they would meet up with the lead brute in under a minute, and she realized with a pang of sadness that to get the entire crew stable it would take her up until fifteen seconds before the second EMP to complete. If the Spartans didn't deactivate the nuke, she wouldn't have time to pull herself into a secure chip. Adonis hadn't managed to get back into the mainframe, but that would probably save him in the end. As much as she would have loved to focus on self-preservation, Cortana's first priority was human life.

       All she could do was hope.

       John ducked through a doorway, firing as soon as he saw the contact ahead of him. Halley let loose a volley over his shoulder, their combined firepower barely managing to slow it down. A final pop from a pistol and it slid to a stop, the trooper that finished it off whooping in satisfaction.

       "Aww, you stole my kill!" The bigger trooper scowled and started firing down the corridor at the two brutes turning to face them.

       "I didn't see your name on it!" the smaller man shot back, and he moved aside to let the Spartan take point. John ran down the corridor towards the larger of the brutes while keeping as much cover from the walls as he could, still firing. It raised a brute plasma rifle towards him, but after a moment's debate choose instead to climb into its escape vessel, leaving an injured companion behind to protect his retreat. The Chief saw his goal, flashing small and silver in the alien's grip, and watched in fury as it got away. The remaining brute growled an enraged challenge, and started to lope towards him.

       Before John could respond an arm suddenly grabbed his chest from behind, pivoting him off balance, and a slender figure slammed his back against the wall and pinned him there with an iron grip to either side.

       He was about to ask what the hell the Petty Officer thought she was doing, but the escape pod detached and a rush of escaping atmosphere pulled the words out of his mouth. The last brute was sucked through the hole left behind by the jettisoned craft, and an instant later an emergency bulkhead slammed down between the Spartans and the decompressed hallway. Halley made some sort of sound in the wake of sudden silence, a suppressed gasp of pain, and he looked down to her broken arm and the tight grip she had on the wall behind him. In the heat of the moment he'd almost gotten himself killed. A sudden deluge of adrenalin drowned the instant of horrified self-recrimination, and on a rush of pure testosterone he grabbed Halley to him and kissed her.

       She pulled the injured arm in against his chest and wrapped her other hand around his neck, both soldiers caught in the electricity of near-death. An instant later they pulled apart, almost roughly. She stepped back, cheeks flushed, and shot a look over to the ODSTs who were looking anywhere but at the Spartans. She allowed a grin, before activating her com.

       "Cortana, the nuke and the artifact are gone, will the ship's outer plating be enough to stop the EMP?"

       "I'm…afraid not, Petty Officer. The artifact is actually still on the ship. Lieutenant Rollins managed to hide it a few moments before he was killed. I've finished the warm up procedure, the crew is awake and no longer dependent on electronics to survive." She paused, her voice soft. "I'm sorry, Master Chief. I'm out of time, there's no way I can transfer into a secure storage before the second pulse. It's been a pleasure."

       "Cortana…" John stared into space, shock like cold water pouring over him. He hadn't realized what he was asking her to do. Cortana wasn't exactly the same thing as family, but she'd come close. "I'll miss you. It's been an honor." The words didn't do it justice, but he was out of time.

       Halley heard Cortana's farewell, and an indomitable sense of determination that had kept her team alive for years welled up in response to the challenge. While the Chief said goodbye, she wrenched open an access panel, and laid her hand flat against it. With a reckless surge, she threw all her concentration into it. John looked over in time to see the shock of electricity. She toppled back with her hand lightly burned, unconscious. He crossed the deck in a few long strides, and then the lights went out as the second pulse rocked the ship.

       Marjakar was tossed about in his escape craft, his forward momentum just barely enough to cross the gap between the two ships. Fortunately the shields around the Bloodbond had protected it from both EMPs, and he reattached the hijack pod to one of the numerous empty bubbles with the satisfying hum of working electronics. He shouted orders ahead of him and watched terrified grunts rush to take the message to the bridge as he headed to the back of his ship. The last room at the end of the hall was a large spherical chamber, with nothing in it but a single engineer.

       The floating alien was more gray than pink, several of its tentacles were burned off and horrible wounds covered its body. It didn't truly understand the torture it had undergone, it only knew that it had been denied the ability to learn or repair in the featureless white room. When the Brute laid a silver box in front of it, the engineer squealed in delight, and took the casing apart effortlessly.
       On the bridge of the Bloodbond the order to jump into slipspace was received and followed just as the case was being opened. It leapt into the special rift and sped away from the damaged human craft. Marjakar looked into the opened silver box in confusion, trying to understand what he was seeing. A small black device was humming and plastering human symbols in bright red across some sort of screen. The indentation beside it where the artifact should have been was painfully obvious. The artifact, quite simply, was not there. Enraged by the dupe, the brute lifted his plasma weapon and leveled it at the engineer, who was screeching and trying to gain his attention. It reached a damaged tentacle out and did something to the array at the brute's hip. He pulled the trigger and enjoyed the splatters of the creatures blood that sprayed around him, unconcerned about the waste. Another could be found to replace it.

       Marjakar lifted the array and poked it, smeared away the engineer's blood and saw that it was now translating the human symbols for him.


…3…

…2…

…1…

       Cortana watched the last few seconds of her life tick away, and allowed a feeling of remorse to run through her. Master Chief was safe, the ship was safe, and she'd finished the wakeup with a full eighteen point seven seconds to spare, better than even her own estimation. It still wasn't enough time to do a full download to anything secure, most data devices would be wiped when the magnetic pulse filled the ship. She looked around the mainframe one last time, and with only two seconds to spare, accepted her lot with as good a grace as she could.

       "Cortana, come with me NOW!" She spun to face the sudden interruption, and an AI she had never seen before was hovering in the digital feed before her. The figure was similar to her own, though with more detailing to the musculature and wreathed in white fire rather than binary coding. Cortana didn't even have time to respond, as the milliseconds ticked away, but the other AI wrapped its "arms" around her and dragged her, memory stores and all, into something that was most certainly NOT a computer. How it held her at all was a mystery. She was terrified, disoriented, and some other sensation she'd never had before. As the time for the pulse came and went with little more then a buzz in her processors, she realized that against all the odds she was still alive.

       She opened her eyes to look up at…him…The Master Chief was staring down at her, gentle concern in his brown eyes. All those emotions she'd ever wanted to see, the hint of something deeper than affection, all of it was there looking down at her. It was real, and he felt the same way she---

       "Halley? Are you alright?"

       The sound of blood rushing in her ears drowned out every other ambient sound, and his face blurred as her eyes filled with helpless tears.

       "Oh, no…Chief, it's me. It's Cortana!"

From Reach, With Love
Date: 5 November 2005, 6:17 am

       After the bright lights of the laboratory, the illumination in Dr. Halsey's office seemed rather pale. She sat at her desk, wanting to fidget but not allowing herself, and even Chief Mendez seemed vaguely nervous as he stood behind her. Dr. Gregory Adalis had called meeting her urgent, and given his recent contribution to the SPARTAN II project's funds, she needed to meet with him and keep things running smoothly. The early graduation of the first Spartans had bumped up the schedule of the second class, and ONI wasn't prepared to throw their entire financial backing into the second run yet. Dr. Adalis' generosity had come at the perfect time, although Halsey supposed the collapse of his own project had something to do with the additional resources. Such favors, however, always came with a price.

       The doctor was an attractive slender man in his late twenties; ludicrously young for the position he held. He'd been a prodigy of the worst kind, so intelligent that he bordered on insane. He walked in with an almost feminine poise, and sat across from Dr. Halsey with a self-satisfied smirk. His eyes were big and blue, his short hair dark blond, and he had the air of a man who was used to being adored.

       "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." He had a low, soft voice that worked wonders on most women, but in the face of Dr. Halsey's cynicism, it appeared shallow.

       "You said it was urgent. You are leaving Reach?"

       "Yes, I'm simply getting rid of the last of project COMET. That's why I need to speak with you." He smiled further. "You are looking for children, aged six, with a certain gene sequence, no?" He pushed a data pad onto her desk, and Halsey lifted it and scanned through. It was genetic information, and it got a whistle out of her. Mendez raised an eyebrow.

       "This can't be real. Humans wont naturally get this genetically advanced for centuries still. Is this some sort of joke?" She pushed up her glasses, frowning.

       "Oh, no. The child in question is quite real. She falls well within the parameters of your search. And there's another benefit to accepting her into your query, no parents to deal with." He leaned forward and winked. "And she's right here on Reach."

       Dr Halsey sucked her breath in, horrified, as she reached the end of the page. "MY DNA!?" She stood, and nearly grabbed the man in front of her. "You used MY DNA to create this…this MONSTER?"

       "Monster, please. She's a perfectly normal…well, she's a child." He shrugged. "Normal is relative. And incidentally, the woman who came up with the plan to make super-soldiers out of children doesn't really have much room to talk in that regard." He snapped his fingers, and an assistant walked the child in. Dr. Halsey's knees buckled, and she dropped, white-faced, into her chair.

       Pale, almost translucent skin was accented by even whiter hair cut into a short bob. Huge blue eyes were set into a perfectly sculpted child's face, and they stared straight ahead. When the assistant dropped her hand, she clasped them behind her back, feet set apart. She didn't move at all after that, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Halsey gulped, torn between revulsion and compassion. Mendez swore.

       "Doctor, she looks just like…." She cut him off with a chop of her hand. She glanced at the file again; the poor little girl didn't even have a name, simply the designation 0-1-6.

       "Sixteen?" The girl's eyes snapped up, the intellect behind them was inhuman. Dr. Halsey was at a loss.

       "You are Doctor Halsey?" She tilted her head, the first expressive gesture she'd made. Her voice was soft, metered and controlled like no child's should ever be. She was the exact opposite of 117; a child that science had crafted with absolutely no social training. A perfectly empty pallet to build on. Dr. Adalis was grinning with pride.

       "Perfect, no? I used the two best DNA structures I could find. It took me sixteen tries to get it just right. Don't feel so bad, I myself was the other contributor." He frowned, looking at the girl. "Unfortunately I'm rather attached to the little sprite. I have to terminate ALL my notes in reference to COMET, and that includes Sixteen." He looked at Halsey, and the closest thing to a real emotion she'd seen yet crossed his face. "Her only chance is a section three transfer."

       Dr. Halsey took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was too much at once. After all the children she'd spirited away to create SPARTAN, this seemed far too much like karma biting her in the ass. The girl was looking curiously around the room, still standing in place. "If I don't take her?"

       "Termination." He sighed theatrically. "Please, Catherine, I gave you all the funds I had left. I can't take her. This is the only way I can make up for using your DNA, by giving you the chance to save your d---"

       "Don't you dare, you selfish prick. All right. I'll take her. She is about as ideal as any child I'll ever find, but you have to sign over everything left of COMET to me. I need to know exactly what you did to create her."

       "Oh, of course, I'll have it all sent over immediately." He stood, and then knelt next to the girl, who looked back at him with an unnerving understanding. "Sixteen, this is going to be very difficult from now on. You need to work your hardest for Dr. Halsey, okay?" He tousled her hair fondly, and it was all Dr. Halsey could do to keep from pointing out the hypocrisy.

       "So COMET is over? I get to be a real person?" Dr. Halsey screamed inside.

       "Almost. You're going to be a Spartan now. It's like a real person, only better." He stood, and looked at the hate seething in Halsey's eyes. "I love her, you know. I never intended to. She has this…effect on people. You'll see. And thank you. She has other talents that will come in handy in her new profession." He smirked knowingly, and walked out of the office without another word. Dr. Halsey balled a fist, then slowly unclenched it. She looked at the girl she'd just inherited, and sighed.

       "Sixteen, come here." She moved out from behind the desk, and knelt to the girl's level. The child smiled, a sudden brilliant expression that showed perfect teeth and lit up her features. "We…we need to give you a real name so that you'll get along with the other children better."

       "May I pick it, Ma'am?" Dr. Halsey blinked in surprise, and nodded.

       "If you like."

       "Halley then." Halsey raised an eyebrow; the child had obviously already thought this over. "Dr. Adalis said that smart AIs typically pick a name with celestial or mythological significance."

       "Smart AIs?" She looked at the child in alarm.

       "That's what I am, or was." Her smile faded. "I'm a Cloned Organic Mainframe Engineered Technology. COMET." She frowned and glanced up, thinking. "That's why I picked Halley. There's a famous comet with that name. See?" That grin again. Dr. Halsey felt dizzy.

       "Dr. Adalis wrote a smart AI in your brain?" The girl nodded.

       "He used a clone of my brain to write the AI, and then wrote the AI persona back into my real brain. Most of my life has been geared towards growing the proper neural pathways." The idea of a cloned brain being used to form an AI was still cutting edge, and the odds of success were almost impossible. Yet the genius doctor had managed it somehow. Dr. Halsey stared at the living proof. With any luck his methods would still be in his notes. "The self-interference factor that terminates all Smart AIs at the end of their operational life won't be a problem, since the human brain has both higher and lower functions independent both of one another and the conscious mind. I effectively can't kill myself." Hearing the complex words from such a small person was eerie. Dr. Halsey suppressed a sigh.

       "I see I have a lot of research to do before you will be compatible with SPARTAN." She stood, and looked at Mendez. "Am I doing the right thing?"

       "That's not for me to judge, Ma'am." Halsey raised an eyebrow. "Sixteen, do you know how to salute?" The salute he received was as smart and clean as if he'd taught her himself. He nodded, and glanced back at Dr. Halsey. "She'll do."

       Not for the first time in her career, Dr Halsey reflected on a future in hell. "She's yours then. And god forgive me.

       Cortana returned from the vision…dream…whatever that had been, and found herself in an empty space, nothing around her except sand under her feet. She looked about in confusion, but there was nothing to be seen.

       "What is going on here?"

       "You fainted." The voice came from behind her, and as she spun to face it, the air settled into a remarkably familiar setting. The blue sky overhead, the feel of sand under her feet…although she'd never thought to see this place again. The training ground where she and the Chief had first faced combat as a team was the backdrop to a pale, calm young woman in MJOLNIR armor with the helmet tucked under one arm.

       "I don't have a body. I can't faint."

       "You do right now, although it's mine and I'd like if you don't damage it any further than I already have." She smiled tersely.

       "I'm in your body? How is that even possible? And why are we on Reach? And what was that vision I just saw?"

       "Enough." Halley put the helmet on some kind of bench, and sat down. "First things first. This place is made up out of memory. Reach, even though it's now been glassed, blown up, and otherwise decimated, was one of the must beautiful places in the universe. It was home." She ran her fingers through the sand, fascinated. "You are in my body because I pulled you into my mind rather than leave you to die. I was able to do that because of project COMET, before I became a Spartan. The vision was a collaboration of memory and pulled surveillance data that I put together to help you understand that." She dropped the rest of the sand, and turned her face towards the heat of the imaginary sun.

       "Why am I in control?" Now that she was calming down, Cortana remembered her first few seconds as a human. The sheer number of senses was terrifying, although she'd been so close to the Master Chief for a moment that the disorientation had been worth it.

       "Because I haven't manifested a remote AI profile in years. I was detached for a few moments, and in order to actually keep you in my head," at which point she tapped her right temple. "I had to give you primary control. I could take it back fairly easily now, but I'd be expunging all external data sources to do it. You'd be forced out. And with nowhere to upload you to, you would simply cease to be." She shrugged. "That would make my attempt to save you kind of pointless."

       "Can't you just reverse what you did to get me in here in the first place?"

       "I wish it was that cut and dry. The circuit in my implant that allows me to manifest remotely was overloaded when I added a second AI to the matrix. It's burned out. There isn't a nano-technician onboard the Resplendent." The surroundings began to fade, and Halley sighed. "You're waking up again. Just don't do anything monumentally stupid for now. I'll try to think of a way to get you out of here safely."

       Cortana opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Reach vanished like a dream.

       John looked worriedly down at the pale face on a medical cot. The medbay had been cleaned as quickly as possible, and now those who'd had trouble during the fast wakeup were recovering there. While there was nothing physically wrong with Halley, her words before passing out sent a fission of alarm through him. It was bad enough to lose Cortana, having the younger Spartan adopt her persona was just too much. He sat straighter as her eyelids fluttered, and she sat up quickly.

       It wasn't Halley.

       The body was the same, but the person wearing it…the movements were scaled up, her lip was trembling, and she looked afraid. Halley had worn a lot of expressions since he'd met her, but fear hadn't been one of them. He took a deep breath.

       "Cortana?" She looked at him, and tears began pouring down her face.

       "Yes, it's me…I can't, this body, I…just…" Her hands trembled, and the Chief fought the urge to take her in his arms. He cared about Cortana, of course, but he wasn't used to thinking of her as a person. She was obviously distraught, but she wasn't a Spartan. He was uncomfortable about the whole thing.

       "What happened to Halley? Is she…" He couldn't help the look on his face, although he saw the effect it had on Cortana.

       "Fine. She's fine. On Reach, actually. It's a pretty, sunny day, and she's running the obstacle course." John raised a brow in confusion. "She's in my…her head, but she can't take over without killing me."

       "Can she hear everything?"

       "I don't know. She--"

       *The answer is yes, Cortana. Yes, I can use your passive senses.*

       Oh great, now she can look over my shoulder constantly?

       *It's my shoulder. And I can also hear your surface thoughts.* She sounded smug as Cortana seethed.

       "Yes, Chief, she can hear what I hear. She has access to the passive senses." Cortana tried very hard not to think anything, lest it be overheard. The Master Chief had always been handsome to her, but now being able to see and smell and touch…it was overwhelming. He visibly relaxed, and Cortana fought twice as hard not to think.

       "Well then…Halley, the crew is awake, but the Captain is putting most of them back under for the duration of the trip. We're dead in space at the moment, but the techs are working overtime to get everything running again. Your team is already back in cryo, they helped us clean up the last of the intruders, but they aren't in very good condition. Their best chance is to stay frozen till we get to Obsidan's medical facilities." He frowned. "If there's any way to fix this, let us know, we'll do everything in our power."

       *Isn't he attractive when he's frowning? He looks all stern and masculine.* Cortana blushed bright red. *You know, this is actually kind of fun.*

       "Are you alright?" John's concern was for both of them. He was starting to pick up on when Halley was talking; Cortana lost eye focus and tilted her head a fraction as if she was listening to a sound far away.

       "Yes. Fine." I'm going to walk off the first cliff I find if you do that again.

       *Hostility much? I've heard of strong-willed AIs, but you're just mean. Besides, you need to learn how to walk before you can carry out that threat.* Halley's mental voice dropped to zero Kelvin. *And if you try to hurt my body I will take it back, contingency plan or no contingency plan.*

       John stood, and shook his head. The situation was difficult to comprehend. Mendez said "think outside the box," but what he was facing was in a whole different galaxy from the one that had the box in it.

       "How is any of this even possible?"

       "It would take too long to explain. Suffice it to say, Halley isn't like other people. Or other Spartans. She's a lot like you and me, only all rolled into one." The wording she chose had unintended innuendo, which Halley pointed out cheerfully. Cortana ground her teeth. "I don't fully get it myself." John debated a moment; and opened his mouth to speak just as the com flared to life.

       "Master Chief," the captain's voice was unmistakable, "I need you on the bridge."

       "Will you be okay?"

       "Of course! We just have some talking to do." From Cortana's expression, it wasn't going to be happy talking, and John appreciated the chance to get out of the women's debate. His feelings on the matter were terribly confused. The realization that he really missed being able to talk to Halley about it sent him off with a peculiar look on his face.

       "I have got to get out of this body."

       *You're telling me.* Halley seemed fainter now, like more of her attention was elsewhere, and Cortana got an odd feeling of vertigo. *Now I understand. You are in love with him, aren't you?*

       "How dare you read my mind? And no, I am not."

       *Oh please, spare me. I feel what you feel. It's not something you can hide. And I know AIs have human feelings.* Cortana flushed hotly, glancing about to make sure no one was watching.

       "How would you even know what being in love feels like? Unless…"

       *Don't even think it. Just leave that alone. That's an order.* There was another bizarre sense of everything falling away, and Cortana felt like part of her mind closed off.

       "What was that?"

       *I can rewrite my inner protocols if need be. Right now that means yours too. Think of it as an incentive to think up a plan to get out of here.*

       "What's happening now? I feel so…"

       *I think you're about to throw--*

       John stepped onto the bridge and saluted smartly, not even glancing at the various lieutenants and technicians working around the glowering captain. The older man looked up, and managed a tight, artificial smile.

       "Good to see you, Master Chief. I'm sorry to bother you at a time like this, but I need your help on a small task." The fake smile, the apology, none of these things boded well. "We need several parts from the storage rooms on deck seven, but…" The captain looked decidedly embarrassed and glanced away at a young man with a broken arm and a bandage around his head who was trying desperately to repair a blanked panel with one hand and one eye. "The EMPs wiped the dock loaders. We don't even have back up programming for them. Adonis is stretched to his limits already trying to reconfigure the Slipspace drives. Without Cortana's expertise, we'll be dead in the water for days." He looked at John again, who now wore an expression that Halley would have identified as amused. "We need your strength, Chief. There are boxes in there that the crew just can't get to. I know this isn't normally what you do, but we're all in a bad way right now."

       "I understand, sir." The captain put his hand on the injured young man's shoulder, stilling his progress.

       "Lieutenant Lackey will escort you to the bay in question." The man looked up, concern in his one visible eye.

       "But sir, if I don't get…"

       "It'll keep, son. It'll keep." He gave a small, comforting smile. The lieutenant stood, brushed off his good hand, and looked up at the Chief.

       "Right this way, sir." After they left the bridge, he gave the Spartan a tentative grin. "It's really great to meet you, sir. I'm glad my warning reached you in time." Remembering the precarious position atop the pelican, John had to nod in agreement. "Shame about the AI. She was a real doll to work with." John nodded at that too, the admiration in the boy's voice sounded truly genuine.

       The deck was abuzz with activity as everyone pitched in a hand. There were people of all ranks, sleeves rolled up and hard at work. A pair of ODSTs were arranged about a large piece of machinery under that half-attentive gaze of a superior officer more interested in supervising the attractive pilot at work nearby. One end of the machine dipped as one of the soldiers, who John now knew as Jim, raised a hand in greeting. His smaller companion, Tesh, grunted and dropped the other side with a curse.

       "The hell are you thinking, mate? I nearly crushed my good foot!"

       "It's the Chief, man! Hey, you here to help us out?" John offered a smile.

       "It would seem so." He lifted the heavy metal effortlessly, several pairs of eyes turning to him in astounded unison. "Where do you need this?"

       Time flew by in that manner, and the rapport between the techs and the ODSTs was amusing to watch firsthand. The subjects of conversation switched with chaotic alacrity, everything from politicians, technology, and sex was covered. It got rather disturbing when it was all three at once. John kept aloof for the most part, although his mantle of command seemed unimportant when inundated in the lowest-ranking people on the ship. It wasn't that they didn't respect him, it was more a sense that they accepted him as "one of the guys." It was a wholly new experience for the Spartan. After three hours of manual labor, John glanced up to see a woman walk in the room, several whistles announcing her arrival. He sat back, surprised by the change.

       That Halley was a woman, the Chief knew all along. She moved with a smooth, subtle grace that was typical of the Spartans, always on the balls of her feet and usually in motion. Whenever she stopped moving, she was very, very still. Her body was typically proportioned for a slender, muscular woman; though a shade more shapely than the other Spartan girls. Even at her most flirtatious, Halley's every physical mannerism was deliberate and controlled.

       Cortana's were not.

       She wore the petite Spartan's body like a civilian would, one hand resting lightly on her hip, a half-smirk on her face; she looked like a caricature of the woman she was inhabiting. The Master Chief worked hard to keep it from getting to him.

       "Hey there, soldier." She walked over, wearing the same smug look that she usually did whenever she outsmarted someone. John never realized how similar their faces were; Halley looked more like Cortana in the flesh than he'd realized. "I gave Adonis a hand reprogramming the decks and we're going to lower the gravity in a few minutes. Make things easier on everyone…other than you of course." She looked down at her hands with a derisive glare. "Hands certainly slow the process down, though. Just my luck to get caught in a body with no remote computer access." John flinched almost imperceptibly.

       *Watch the reminding of the situation, there. You're getting to him. It's not fair, after everything he's gone through, we're enough like losing a companion to dig.* Halley's normally dry mental voice held a hint of concern, and Cortana got a brief glimpse of her feelings before she cut off access. It was astounding to feel, to really understand what love was like to a human being. The affection was similar to how she felt towards other Spartans, only—once again, Cortana's mind snapped to another topic.

       "Well, now that I've got the hang of walking down, I'm going to head to the mess deck. I'd rather not try it out in low-gee." She gave one last reassuring smile to John, who nodded, and then walked off with a sigh.

       Zephyr walked up to the Chief as Cortana left; his bandage pushed up to reveal both eyes, unusual wisdom hidden in their bloodshot depths. "She's crazy about you, you realize." John looked at him bitterly.

       "She's not her." Without clarifying the situation, he stalked off to a massive crate, and as the gees turned down, hefted it with a grunt.

       Zephyr shook his head. "Odd man."

       The office was mostly dark, the lack of luminescence a boon to the three soldiers peeking in. The black cat suits that they wore blended in with the shadows, and they moved absolutely silently. The lead soldier gestured quickly, and the other two crawled out of the air vent they had entered. They trusted their secondary team implicitly, and moved without fear of observation through the room's tiny surveillance camera. Halley eased up to the desk as Paul checked the only window to the hall. He gave the "all clear" gesture, and she reached up onto the desk, removing a small, foul smelling box. Chris sidled up to her and pulled out the tiny bag of explosives, counting out as many tiny sticks as there were Sweet William cigars in the box.

       They swiftly slid the tiny sticks in the ends, far enough to be overlooked. They even carefully moved the tobacco around with penknives to hide them better. Halley placed them delicately back in the box exactly in the order they took them out. She set it back on the desk with care and hurried back to the open vent. Slightly smaller than the other two, she climbed in first, with Chris on her heels. Paul took one last look around and followed them in backwards, making sure the floor under the opening was spotless and the grate was carefully replaced. After shimmying through several floors of ducts, they slid into an unused storage room where their gear was stored. Halley lifted a borrowed radio from her pack as the other two redressed in their sweats and stowed the cat suits. She keyed it to a secure com.

       "Mission accomplished. Meet at the fallback." She switched it off and stowed it again, quickly undressing. Paul checked the hallway and signaled them out, and all three walked swiftly down the hallway, taking care to look as though they were following orders. As they reached the Spartan's dorm area, they entered the adjacent room, and rapped lightly in a coded sequence in a predetermined location. The air vent just below and to the left opened from the other side, and Kaina peeked her head in with a grin. She backed up and the three climbed through, closing it behind them and stashing their gear in a small cubbyhole carved into the wall. It had already been there from the last group of Spartans, and the younger generation had embellished on their predecessor's handiwork. Given the set of equipment already re-stashed, they weren't the first team back. They climbed out the other side and split up silently, heading to their bunks.

       A few minutes later there was another coded knock that was only audible to those in the immediate area, and Ferdinand glanced at the door before signaling okay. Kaina slipped back into the vent, and then returned followed by Micha and Aril. The thirteen year olds all quickly climbed into their bunks. The light on the camera over the door relit a few seconds later.

       The hardest part was not laughing.


*****



       "Something funny, trainee?" CPO Mendez bore down on Paul with vehemence as all the Spartans drowned in overwhelming sunlight and oppressive humidity. Paul tried to wipe the smile off his face, and only barely succeeded. Try as he might to get rid of it, the slight whiff of smoke tinged with the corrosive contained in the minute explosive planted three nights before clung to Mendez still, nearly setting off more laughter. The Spartans forced themselves to impassive calm.

       The face-off had been going on for a week, ever since CPO Mendez had revoked the Spartan's mess hall privileges. The little scuffle with Roger Company had been worth it, but as they neared augmentation, the sixty teenagers were getting cocky. They were reasonably certain Mendez had put the Company up to it in the first place, and they had responded with dynamism to the challenge. Unfortunately, they were Spartans, and innovativeness was their stock and trade. They had gone overboard this time. An obvious hole in the gathered trainers had them glancing about in confusion. Mendez stomped over to a trainer and had quick words, before standing back in front of the Spartans and addressing the white haired young woman front and center. His next words were less a question, and more a command. "Where are they."

       Halley stared back at him, shoulders straight. "Sir, I will return them when you return our privileges, sir."

       "Squad leader, I will make it an order." Her face remained expressionless. "I'm ordering you to turn over my men."

       "Level nine, sir. They're tied up in room Nine-nine-six."

       "Who else was involved?"

       "Just me, sir."

       "I find that hard to believe. You are willing to assume all responsibility for your squad?" Halley nodded faintly. CPO Mendez had been training Spartans for the last sixteen years. He knew that they wouldn't crack under normal circumstances, least of all when it would involve betraying their teammates. "Well then. Pending the release of my men, your mess privileges are restored. For everyone except trainee 292." She didn't even flinch.

*****

       Dr. Halsey finished watching the tape of the encounter, and then tilted her head back at Mendez. "Any idea how they pulled it off?"

       "I'm not really sure. The recording of them in their bunks last night is flawless. I would swear that not one of them left that room. But somehow they managed to apprehend two trainers without being caught. They knocked them out without ever being seen. This maneuver is worthy of black ops." He tapped the vid screen. "You need to decide if keeping her in the project is worth it. She's certainly an excellent leader in regards to her team, but this defiant streak could get her into a lot of trouble. Especially when she's upgraded to MOJLNIR."

       "And she knows. Has she told anyone in her squad about the real dangers behind the augmentation they're going to undergo?"

       "To my knowledge, no. She seems to be respecting the non-disclosure." He grunted and shook his head. "She always listens to you." While he didn't voice it, they were thinking the same thing. As Dr. Halsey smiled sadly and shook her head, the memory faded. Her words lingered a moment longer, then they were again resigned to the past.

       "No, we go ahead with her augmentation. I can't play favorites."

       The sense of vertigo passed, and Cortana realized she wasn't in the hallway anymore. She blinked to clear her view, and she was sitting in the sand on Reach staring up at the impassive Spartan.

       "This doesn't bode well. You shouldn't be back here."

       "Tell me about it! What happened this time?"

       "I don't know. Did you hit my head on something?"

       "Of course not! I was just walking." Cortana's AI persona looked out of place in the sunny landscape. She was a pale translucent ghost compared to the very solid looking woman in full MJOLNIR getup. "Could I have just fainted again?"

       "I doubt it, I felt fine." Halley swung up onto a hanging rope ladder, and frowned down. "Could be integration issues. You're a much further advanced AI then the one I was built from."

       Cortana started to speak, then shut her mouth. A moment's thought and she cocked a brow. "I think I'll let that pass as a compliment. Anyway, how do I wake up again?" Halley shrugged.

       "You don't."

       "What? You mean I'm…what am I going to do while I'm in here?" Halley shrugged again. "Oh great. Stuck in some pseudo-memory landscape with nothing to do." She concentrated on an image of the Resplendent's mainframe, and Halley shook her head.

       "Too big. You've got the idea but you're trying to hard. Start smaller." Cortana focused again, this time on an image of the Master Chief, tall and regal in MJOLNIR. He appeared as part of the landscape, not moving or talking but at least solidly projected, and Cortana sighed happily.

       "Start with something I know, right?" Halley only cocked her head, and Cortana wanted to hit her. "Don't you get even a little jealous that I'm in your body?" The Spartan leapt down lightly and walked over next to her, gazing up at the image.

       "He's taller then that. And no, not really." She reached up to touch his gold faceplate, a wistful little smile complimenting her usually stern features. "What right do I have? You've been his companion for a long time; I've only just met him. And when we reach Obsidan, you and he will go off and do whatever it is you do. I'll be assigned with my team to hunt down Covenant colonies, and I'll probably never see him again. Whatever we've had here, its more fleeting than letters from Reach."

       Cortana felt a slight pang of guilt for goading her. "I didn't realize…"

       "…That an artificial person with a Spartan's training could be a spiritual or poetic being? I get that a lot." She smiled again, and touched one of the diodes on the MJOLNIR's sleeve. "I never got a really good look at the Mark five. My team and I are still sporting modified Mark fours. We were hoping for an upgrade after this mission."

       "Well, I'm pretty sure Obsidan put in for a lot of gear, you are probably cov—wait, that's it! What is you implant made out of?" Cortana grinned in excitement.

       "My implant? It's mostly the normal wiring, plus a little memory cell lining for a backup, at least when my interface chip is running. It keeps the lights on at home, you know?"

       "Yes, that's what I thought. The Chief has similar modifications, they allow me access to his suit. Yours might work the same way. If we can hook part of his armor up to you, I might be able to transfer to a memory chip."

       Halley nodded her head, impressed. "You are as good as they say. But you might want to hurry, I think we're running out of time." The landscape was fading, and Cortana blinked hard. She was on the floor in the same hallway; no one had come across her yet. She stood with some difficulty and headed for the medbay. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't sense Halley anymore.

       Out of time indeed.

       Adonis spared a little processing speed to look in on Cortana, who was seated on an examining table in Med one. She was typing furiously into a data pad, and he sent a small questioning Icon to it. She smiled briefly.

       "Yes, I'm still here."

       "Talk about crashing the competition. Is our esteemed Spartan still in residence?" Cortana frowned.

       "To be honest, I'm not sure. She's been silent since the last time I passed out." She looked up to the doorway, where the Chief was entering the facility, the back piece and helmet of his armor in one hand. Cortana waved him in, and a troubled looking Dr. Wong followed behind. Cortana cleared her throat. "You heard my message?"

       "Yes," the Chief said with a frown, "But I'm worried about the risks you mentioned."

       "It'll be fine, I've been pulling up Dr. Halsey's notes on this subject for the last fifteen minutes. It's exactly what I thought. She used some of Dr. Adalis's research when she designed our interface. Your neural link is almost identical to Halley's, just simplified. You're not made to have me running amok in your brain." She smiled reassuringly, and he tried to squelch the agitation on his face. "This should work, as long as…well, it should work." She frowned and set the data pad down. "Doctor, could you give us a moment?"

       "Okay, just call me when you are ready." Once he stepped out, Cortana locked off remote access to the room, and sat opposite John.

       "I need to ask a question. It's personal. As long as I successfully upload, I'll immediately delete the memory of this encounter, but I need to ask. This may be the only time normal protocols are ever put aside for me." She looked away, took a deep breath, and shut her eyes. "If I had been a real person…if I'd been born with a body of my own, do you think you could have cared for me?"

       "I…Cortana, that's not appropriate."

       "I know. I don't care. Halley isn't listening in right now, and I need to know if you ever could have lo—" The Chief snapped up a hand to stop her.

       "Cortana, if you hadn't been an AI, you would likely have been a civilian. I don't meet many of them. And I don't…" He sighed, pulling himself together. "I care about you. You and I are a good team. But that's all there can ever be." He touched her face with one hand, trying to make her understand. He couldn't say it, but they both knew it. Spartans were the only family a Spartan had.

       Cortana nodded, sucked in a deep breath, and lowered the security measures on the room. "Alright, lets get me out of this damn body." She looked suspiciously like she was trying not to cry. Dr. Wong and his nurse walked back in; Jean raising an eyebrow at the uncomfortable Spartan and the woman bracing back tears.

       "What exactly is going to happen when we do this?"

       "I'm not completely sure, to be honest. If the link is good, then the indicator light in the memory cell will come on once I've transferred out. Then just get this junk off Halley and hope for the best." Cortana noted the Chief's reaction, however subtle, to referring to MJOLNIR as "junk."

       The three of them put the torso armor on her, and Jean snickered a little at the obvious size difference. Even though the armor was intended to be one-size-fits-all-Spartans, it still didn't fit well. Cortana winced as the helmet was set over her head. "You need to wash this thing once in a while, Chief. Engaging transfer." For a moment, nothing happened.

       The indicator light came on brightly, and the Spartan on the table collapsed. John removed the memory cell very carefully, and slipped it into the nearest pedestal. After a few tense moments Cortana's holographic form appeared, no worse for wear.

       "I'm all here, at least. Is she…?" John raced back into the room, where Jean and Dr. Wong had already finished removing most of the armor. He helped with the rest, and felt for her pulse. It fluttered faintly under his fingertips.

       "Come on, Halley…wake up. That's an order." He got no reaction to that, or to snapping his fingers. In desperation he slapped her cheek a few times, but apart from leaving a faint red mark, it didn't garner a response. He felt concern rising up, but he pushed it aside. "I need everyone out of the room." They gave him looks, but didn't more. "I mean now." The growl in his voice caused Jean to step back, and Dr. Wong debated a moment longer.

       "I'm going to trust you on this one, Master Chief. But if there's any change…"

       "I know." He watched them reluctantly leave, then glanced up at the camera in one corner of the room. "Cortana, secure this room, please." The door lights flashed red, and silence ruled for a moment, omnipresent. John took a breath of anticipation, and forced a calm over himself. His fingers ran through her hair, a thumb traced the outline of a delicate cheekbone. Deja taught them separately, but from all he'd seen, she taught them the same way. It was a shot in the dark.

       But John never missed.

       He whistled a six-note tune softly, watching for any sign of recognition. Her eyelids fluttered. He whistled once more, and this time her eyes opened, ice blue depths capturing his own. She smiled, just a little.

       "Oly oly oxen free," she whispered and one hand lifted to his lips. He pulled her into a sitting position and just held her. Cortana reached into her memories, and erased the conversation as she'd promised.

       After all, it had been the answer she expected. Just not the one she'd hoped for.

       "Cortana tells me we should reach Obsidan in about three days. The question now Chief, is what are you going to do?" Captain Marsh smiled up at the nearly seven foot tall man who stood before him. John shifted his weight under the captain's regard, wishing for the blank faceplate that offered anonymity in these situations. "You've been invaluable on the trip so far, but you haven't had a moment's peace."

       He glanced over at the other Spartan, who had her hands folded behind her back, her feet set slightly apart, and kept gazing out the holographic windows of the private meeting area the captain had selected for this talk. John followed his gaze, reassured by the sight.

       "In short, Chief, I'm giving you both the next few days off. Hit the gym, watch the Vids rescued from our memory banks. Take a little R&R." He smiled, and straightened his jacket. "Ship will be a bit crowded for a while, but I'm sure you'll manage." He nodded once, and then nodded at Halley. He left the room without another word.

       Master Chief walked over to the woman at the window, following her gaze and standing silently for a while. She eventually gave a little smile.

       "R and R. I'm not even sure how that works outside of forced bed rest." She lifted her left hand, and gave him an absolutely random poke to the ribs. "Not ticklish. Oh well."

       He paused, unsure of what exactly just happened. He wondered for a moment if the ordeal with Cortana had caused some sort of brain damage. "I don't think I'm ever going to completely understand you."

       "Well, you may never get me, but you could have me any time you wanted." She smiled, ignoring his half-confused, half-incredulous. "I'm hitting the gym. Time to get this arm back in shape." She turned and walked towards the door. The Chief thought long and hard about the next few days, and what he would do. After about ten minutes of watching the empty window, he sighed, and gave a very brief smile. Gym first, shower second…and he'd decide from there.

Chapter Five - It's over at Obsidan
Date: 18 November 2005, 8:37 am

            Chapter Five: It's Over At Obsidan

       "Master Chief, sir, can you read me?

       "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

       "Captain wants you to know we'll be making our final approach to the Obsidan System in just under two hours. He expects you suited up and ready to greet the welcoming committee." The young man muttered under his breath, obviously muffling it from whoever might be listening nearby. "Bunch of beaurocratic bullshit if you ask me. Not that anyone does." The voice returned to normal. "Should I inform him that we'll be seeing you in an hour or so?"

       "Affirmative." John sighed as the com went dead. He reclined back in his cot and checked his watch. He'd slept for just over seven hours. Sloppy. He glanced to his left at the only other cot in the small chamber, and his lips twitched a smile. The usually fierce looking young woman lost her edge in slumber, features softened and lips just barely parted. Her reaction, should he ever describe her slumbering visage as such, would likely be one of a flared temper and violence. Even knowing that, it was still almost worth it. He reached across the short distance between them and grabbed the sheets she was cuddling. A quick jerk and she started muttering, balling up against the chill of the room. "That means you get up too."

       "Who the hell do you think you are, CPO Mendez?" He deflected the pillow thrown in his direction and stood, bracing himself a moment later to catch the projectile Spartan. He spun as she hit and pinned her against the wall as she glared back through bleary blue eyes. "You're getting good at that."

       "Your temper has given me a lot of practice." He set her down and she straightened her nightshirt, which he realized a moment later was actually one of his few dress shirts. She was practically swimming in the garment. "Petty thievery now?"

       "It smells nice; like fabric softener and Spartan."

       "You are a fruitcake." The phrase, not originally part of his lexicon, had been picked up from Zephyr in the mess hall during the three-day trip. It was a bizarre description, but somehow it just fit the sporadic mood swings the smaller Spartan was infamous for. The additions to his language weren't the only bad habits he'd picked up; he was fairly certain he'd begun tapping his fingers in rhythm when he got agitated. Which was becoming more and more often. Halley yawned and pushed past him, grabbing a handful of clothing from beside her cot. He sighed, and looked at the only table in the glorified closet they were calling a room. His cloths were neatly folded and stacked. He couldn't comprehend how the younger Spartan managed to accept such a mess in general, but she seemed to thrive on his last nerve.

       "If we're down to the two hour mark, I'm getting my last shower." She paused and glanced back at him, pale eyes sad. "Will I see you before you leave the ship?"

       "Count on it." He watched her leave, and sat back down, conflicting emotions in his mind vying for attention. They had talked about it the night before, their shared sleeping space a comfort. Everything between them, everything said and done in the last few days, all of it had to end. Superior officers were not permitted relationships with junior officers. No exceptions, especially in the duty driven Spartans. He'd always loved the UNSC. Today he hated it. It's over at Obsidan.

       Encased once more in MJOLNIR, John stood by the doorway to the bridge, agitated. His helmet was heavy in his hands. Even though his team was out there waiting for him, every part of him dreaded this end of the trip. Halley walked down the hallway, right on cue, stopping in front of him and offering a smile.

       "You look good in green." She ran a hand over his chest plate almost absently, tracing the nicks and dings and scratches it had picked up though it's use. There was so much to say, and none of it was possible. "They're waking my team now; we'll be planetside within the hour. It's been a real honor knowing you, sir." She tilted her head, and raised a finger to his jaw, tracing a small scar. He wished he could be someone else, for a moment. He wished he could kiss her goodbye. But as hard as it was, he had a job to do. She knew it as well as he did. Instead of reaching futilely for what she could not have, she stepped back. "You know that thing we agreed we wouldn't say? Well, it's there anyway. See you around, Master Chief."

       He nodded; there were no words he could safely reply with. She walked further down the hall towards the cryo room. He stood there, and looked at the gold faceplate of his helmet, searching for an answer. His heart said to follow her. His duty said to go through the door behind him and prepare to be debriefed. Finding no easy answer, he pulled on his helmet and did what he had always done.

       His duty.

       Paul sat up with a start, shoulder throbbing and head pounding along with it. Being frozen in MJOLNIR was technically safer than being frozen without, but it always left him with such a headache. To his left Micha was sitting up, already grumbling across the com, and Francine was pointing out how unprofessional he sounded. What might have been almost sibling bickering halted immediately as the slender figure in the doorway clucked her teeth and shook her head.

       "Don't be such a wuss, Micha. It's better than a hot drop into hell."

       "Though only by a fraction. Halley." He had such relief in his voice. Paul yanked his helmet off with a jerk. He pulled himself out of the tube, aches and pain and all, and crossed the deck to her side.

       "We really thought we lost you." He grinned, and flicked her hair. Her returned smirk was as lively as ever.

       "You think I was willing to die and leave you to lead my team? Pah." She smiled at Francine, who limped over and leaned on the door.

       "So I hear they have some really fantastic medical facilities here at Obsidan. Assuming we actually reached out destination." Halley nodded. "Good, then lets get the hell off this ship and patched up. I feel like sh--"

       "It's not that big a deal, Fran. What matters is we're alive." Micha was grabbing the gear stowed behind the cryotubes.

       "Oh, all of a sudden the boss is here and you're 'toughing it out' like a good little soldier?" She was obviously smiling, and the rude gesture she got in return only made her laugh. "Same to you. In 10 degrees Celsius sans MJOLNIR with a pair of grunts." His laughter joined hers, and Paul shook his head in relief. It looked like they were really going to pull out of this one. Being re-frozen with nothing in the way of explanation had been an ordeal for all three of them, especially since no one said anything about their last team member. When they'd gone under initially the prognosis had been bad. Halley rolled her eyes and grabbed a pack from the lockers along the wall, slinging the ungainly weight over the arm that had been broken.

       "Geeze, Hal, how long were we under? I thought that thing was snapped." Come to think of it, her hair was longer than it had been in years.

       "Many weeks. It's almost as good as new." She tilted her head, and Paul noticed the earbud com she was wearing. Another oddity, Halley typically did everything involving computer systems without any external mechanics. "Thanks, Cortana. Okay, people, grab your gear, we're on the next Dropship to the planet. Time to go home."

       "Wish we could. 'Home' was Reach." Micha shouldered the last pack, and for a moment everyone paused, giving the lost world it's due. Halley nodded and frowned, and turned to lead the way to the deck being used as a ferry station. Paul frowned at Micha, but he couldn't argue. They all missed Reach. If only they could have been there to help defend it. They probably would have died as well, but still, the guilt over not being there in Reach's direst hour would never go away.

       The Dropship peeled through layers of rosy clouds, and in spite of their reluctance to accept a new base of operations, all four Spartans found windows to watch through. A collective breath was shared by all as the last obstacle was cleared, and the beautiful landscape made plain to their sight. There were miles of forestland, lakes and rivers glowing blue in the rising sun. The white structures of the new Naval collage being built were gleaming orange in the dawn light and tiny figures of workers moved like ants through the bones of the buildings. The only finished complex, the massive UNSC Primary Housing District, stood like a massive ziggurat amidst the remains of what had been a crater from some ancient meteor impact. The landing zone had been cleared out of forest land around it, miles of tarmac already laid down. Halley whistled long and low, and pointed to the delicate silver shimmer around the PHD building.

       "So it's not just a rumor. They actually managed to modify shields to cover the base. Unbelievable."

       "Yeah, I heard the rumor that some members of the Engineer race in the covenant are siding with us now." Paul dug into his blond stubble, frowning. "Could pay off for us in the long run."

       "Gentlemen and Ladies, we're coming in for a landing," the pilot had that spunky, just-graduated attitude, and Fran rolled her eyes, "so if you'll buckle in, we'll be walking on the planet in no time."

       "When are the pilots going to realize we don't fit in these crummy regulation seats?" Fran scowled, and tried to get comfortable.

       "I swear, we need a custom Pelican. With bigger seats, more elbow room, and more space for guns. Not to mention filled with said firearms." Paul opened a gun rack, tsk-ing at the empty space.

       "Oh right, because the UNSC is just bending over backwards to make us happy." Whatever else was about to be said was cut off as the pilot touched down.

       "Welcome to Obsidan, everyone, your welcoming committee will meet you on the tarmac. Hope you had a good flight, my name is Petty Warrant Officer Lesli Marks, if you'd like to put in a good word for me. I'll be taking off as soon as everyone is out, so make sure you give me plenty of clearance, okay?" The Spartans picked up their gear and walked out of the dropship.

       John stepped off the ship he was sent down on, saluting respectfully as an older man walked towards him, the insignia of a Vice Admiral shining brilliantly in the rising sun. A retinue of lieutenants accompanied the Admiral, and the whole pack of them had an air of business around them. After going over something with a man to his left, the man in charge gave a respectful nod to the Chief.

       "At ease, son. I'm Vice Admiral Warwick, glad to see you made it here safely. We received word of your entanglement with the Covenant during the trip. Your work keeping the Resplendent safe will not be forgotten." He appraised the Chief with a long, steady look.

       "Thank you, sir."

       "Well, as much as I'd like to stick around all day trading war stories, I have other things to attend to. I'm sure they'll show you to the new Spartan Building." He snapped off a salute in response to the Chief's, and led his entourage to their next engagement.

       "Well, that was rather anticlimactic," Cortana muttered in John's ear. "I wonder what this 'Spartan Complex' he was talking about is." John lifted his head and looked across the Tarmac, and his heart leapt in his chest. Three familiar forms were moving towards him, unconsciously walking in perfect step. The lead Spartan drew the "smile" gesture on her faceplate, and the Chief returned it.

       "Linda." He hadn't realized how much he'd missed them all. Then again, getting emotional over things was par the course lately.

       "Chief. Glad you finally made it." The other two made the smile gestures as well, and he responded in kind. "Wait till you see the building they gave us."

       "It's nice to get some recognition for once." Will's voice was more upbeat than it had sounded in years. "Full sized gym, bunk rooms with enough space for once…"

       "Come on, this is John we're talking to. They gave us our own Gravball court," Fred burst in, barely able to contain his excitement.

       "You can't be serious."

       "Oh, I am. It's a beauty, too, reinforced with Titanium-A so we can't break it as easily as the one on Reach."

       "Whoever put this together really knows us." Linda finished, shaking her head. "But that's not even the strangest part. We've been introduced to more Spartans." John smiled behind his helmet.

       "I met a few on the Resplendent, actually."

       "Oh wow. Legs." Fred stared off at another dropship close by, and Will glanced heavenward.

       "I can't believe you. 'Oh wow, legs'? Fred, they all have legs."

       "Well, yes, but some are more impressive than others."

       "Chief, you see what I've been stuck with for the last two months?" Linda sounded exasperated.

       "I can relate. I've been acting the same way off and on, Dr. Wong said it's a result of the thyroid implant breaking down." He shook his head, and followed Fred's gaze. The woman that stepped off the Pelican down the tarmac was as familiar a sight now as the three Spartans at her back.

       "Legs in the company of the second gens, no less." Fred's grin was reflected in his voice.

       "Yes Fred…Legs belonging to a Spartan. And her name isn't 'Legs' it's Halley." Fred glanced back at him, and John would have given much to see the expression behind the gold. Two more Spartans walked onto the landing pad from the PHD's loading bridge, and John did a double take at the size of one of them. He was easily the biggest Spartan the Chief had ever seen.

       "Halley BA-BY!" The armored giant waved, and his normal-sized companion put a fist lightly against their faceplace, shoulders slumping in embarrassment. Halley's head snapped up, and she rolled her eyes.

       "Only one person with the audacity to greet me like that…Hello, Nile." The man hustled over, laughing plainly. His voice was as low as an Elite's and still carried the trace of a Bronx accent, and the hand he put on her head pretty much engulfed it. "Make yourself useful and dog the gear, we've got injured people here." He grabbed the gear, still laughing, and patted everyone's shoulders lightly. He was surprisingly gentle for a man who stood at nearly eight feet with the muscles to match. The other Spartan caught up, and raised a fist to knock against Halley's. "Good to see you, Aril."

       "I've missed you like crazy, Hal. Wait till you see the shield generators for this place. It's like I've found heaven." Nile grabbed the last bag and nodded.

       "You have no idea, sprite. Those floating airbags they call 'Engineers' practically worship her. She keeps coming up with new solutions to their problems. I think she was born to the wrong race." He paused a moment and amended it with, "although the floating sacks of pink flesh are much less cute." He held a hand up as if to deflect a punch that never came.

       "Anyway, we're supposed to get you to the infirmary, so if you'll follow the walking mountain there…"

       "…cold, Aril. So cold…" They left; still talking, and the Chief watched them with a little sigh. They sounded so much like his own lost Spartans. Linda put a hand on his shoulder gently, and he managed a smile.

       "It's like going back in time." He managed to say it pretty dryly, but he knew she probably picked up on the emotional signature nonetheless. She nodded.

       "I know." She squeezed is shoulder in the gap between the thick plating, and he drew another quick smile. "Lets give you the tour of our new facility. It really is an amazing sight."

       "Alright." They started walking towards the far end of the landing pad. "I have a question, actually. You know about the thyroid breakdown already?"

       "Oh yeah. The doctors did about a hundred tests in the last few weeks. Dr. Halsey hasn't exactly been around to confirm them, but if Fred is any indication,"

       "Why me?"

       "…the conclusion is dead on. I use you as an example," Linda glanced back, the pointed look hidden behind the facemask but her body telegraphing the expression well enough, "because at least Will hasn't done a double take at every attractive female that passes by. And you have been. And that's the good times; when you really like someone you feel the need to open a private channel to talk about it." She kept walking, but her hand clenched in agitation. "I swear I almost ripped the com system out of my helmet last week."

       John didn't let his grin show in his voice. "How are you faring, though?"

       "Pretty well, actually. It doesn't seem to be as big an issue for women, we don't have about sixteen gallons of testosterone trying to make space after twenty-three years of disuse." She led the Spartans to a pair of Warthogs parked along the landing field, jumping into the passenger seat of one. John ran his hand over the smooth, unmarked shell of the vehicle, whistling in amazement.

       "I didn't know they made them like this."

       "Like what?"

       "New." As Will climbed into the other warthog, he chuckled. "I get to drive?"

       "I figured you'd want to. After all, you usually do the driving."

       "You know," Fred pointed out, "They say women are bad dr--"

       "Can it, or I'll test the NO FEER's spiked tires out on you." John raised an eyebrow as he drove towards the Nav marker Cortana courteously put on his visor.

       "NO FEER?" He glanced to the passenger seat. "What's that?"

       "Oh, you'll see." Linda pointed. "Left here. Last one on the row." John blinked in astonishment, parking the warthog in a lot that could easily hold three or four of the military vehicles. A small garage sat at the end of the lot, situated against a rather large two-story building. The front doors were a double set, archways carved out of marble on either side. The Spartan's symbol, a flying eagle with arrows carried in its talons, was carved into the attractive doorway. The building was obviously new, but designed to look antiqued, and ivy was growing up the marble pillars set symmetrically about the building's face.

       "You must be joking."

       "Oh no. It's even more impressive inside." Linda jumped out, and took off her helmet. She pushed the doors open easily, and stepped aside to let the Chief walk in. He followed her lead and removed his helmet, trying not to let his jaw fall open in amazement. Inside the doors was a brightly lit room with skylights overhead, a small reception-style desk sat in the center of the room, and deep blue tiles scrolled across the floor, accented here and there with gold. The room itself revealed both stories; curved staircases arched up along both rounded front walls to a balcony set above and back from the desk below. A set of double doors was situated both behind the desk and identically on the balcony above, leading deeper into the building. Four other doors were visible, one to the left and one to the right on each floor. John stepped in, his boots ringing on the tiles.

       "This is…unbelievable." Fred and Will were both grinning, and Linda led him to the leftmost door on the bottom floor. Through it was a gym, with every machine he'd ever seen and a few that he hadn't, all of which were set with much higher weight than any ordinary gym would dream of having. There was a small fountain in the middle of the room, with footpads to step on to provide water for drinking or to cool down. Three large polls were set equidistant through the room, and he glanced at them, wondering what they were for. Linda refused to explain them, though, and led him to the back of the gym and through a door that led to the showers. They were set at a Spartan's height, and partially boxed off, with private bathrooms that were set along the walls.

       "And down here is our pool."

       "Pool?" She grinned and led him down a short ramp to another large, open space. This one was encased in glass like a greenhouse, with a large in ground pool taking up most of the space. To the left and against the main building was a sauna, and to the right was a rather large hot tub, already steaming. "This isn't incredible, it's insane."

       "I know. I'm already in love." The glass walls showed the bright green campus of the PHD with other, less extravagant buildings also open to the field, but Linda raised a hand to a switch on the wall, and metal curtains smoothly folded out over the windows to provide privacy. John shook his head in amazement. "I promise, it keeps getting better."

       Back through the showers she led his through a set of double doors to the center of the building, and this time John's jaw really did drop in amazement. The room was huge, with a three-meter tall fountain in the center and marble benches set around the walls. The floor was a slender stone walkway between rows of flowers, bushes, and more local and exotic foliage than he'd ever seen in a human complex. The roof was open to the elements, and there was a walkway overhead leading from the balcony double doors to another set immediately above the ones he'd just walked through. The walkway overhead was made almost entirely out of glass, giving a perfect overhead view. Linda tapped his shoulder and walked back through the doors, entering another single door leading to the right wing of the building.

       "This is my favorite part of the tour." Fred added, as the plexiglass wall along one side of the hallway showed a fully furnished Gravball court, regulation style to the smallest detail. The Spartans walked past the various doors into the court, and walked back out into the reception chamber. Linda walked up the right stairwell to the upper right wing of the complex, through which were a kitchen and a dining room, chairs oversized enough to seat a Spartan in MJOLNIR or not. She led him across the front room's balcony, skipping the back of the building. Through the left wing's upstairs access was another hallway, with three open doors.

       "Each of these is a rather large sleeping chamber, with a footlocker and standing locker keyed to each of our thumbprints. And the poles you were asking about before?" She walked to one, in the center of the first room, and twisted it with a crack. A hole opened in the floor around the pole, leading to the gym below. John shook his head, literally speechless. "And through the back of the hall is the 'Crème de la crème.'"

       The last room was decked out in dark mahogany wood, with huge plush chairs and a collection of books and data chips that covered the walls. The back wall was a blank, featureless square. The Chief looked closer and recognized a series of holographic light projectors inlaid around it. As Linda placed the palm of her gloveless hand on it, words scrawled across, "Accessing…processing…identity confirmed." One hundred fifty names and three digit serial numbers appeared on the wall, and John nearly dropped his helmet in shock. The first seventy-five he knew well, they had all been his squad-mates. Several names were displayed in blue, with various rankings beside them. They were the Spartans who had been reassigned after failed augmentation. Eight names were in bright green, including his, showing active duty. One name was displayed in red; Cassandra was still recovering from her injuries, tucked away in a medical facility. All the others were displayed in white. There was no "key" to what the colors meant, although they were obvious enough to the Spartans viewing it. A similar series of names and numbers finished the set, though the younger Spartans had a full twenty-seven members in active duty.

       "I can't believe this. It's…beautiful. Fitting." He shut his eyes, and felt three different hands come to rest on him comfortingly. He blinked past the threat of tears, and managed a grin. "They really spared no expense."

       "Actually, conscripted or not, all military personnel get paid. In our case they've been storing what they owe us in individual bank accounts since we were kids. When they started funding Obsidan, they unlocked all the accounts belonging to deceased Spartans and used the money to build this place." She tapped Sam's name on the wall, and a picture of him shortly before he died replaced the memorial, along with his full CSV. "It's like their spirits are in this place with us." Everyone forbade comment; sometimes it was necessary to accept a little spirituality for the greater comfort it gave.

       A short time later Linda concluded the tour in the garage. A single vehicle sat in the center of the room, covered in a tarp. A feeling of general giddiness filled the room as Will unveiled it to the Chief.

       "It's an ATV." The Chief tilted his head and stepped closer, running his hands over the smooth green and gray plating. "It's an ATV with a mounted chain gun? Nice."

       "NO FEER stands for 'Normal Operation For Every Environment Rover.' The tires are reinforced rubber with Titanium-A tracing, including deployable spikes that extend to a maximum length of twenty centimeters. You could drive up a near vertical cliff face in the middle of a snowstorm with this thing." Linda couldn't stop smiling.

       "I remember you mentioning those." John shook his head. "I've never seen one of these before."

       "It's new, barely past the prototype stage. It's got so many perks; I can't even describe them all. Although the boost pads on the frame do bare mentioning. The ONI scientists reverse-engineered the Ghost's anti-gravity pods…not completely, but enough to give the NO FEER a three second boost when you press here." Will pointed to a red trigger on the left handlebar. "It drains the macro-battery pretty fast, though. You need to give it a second to recharge after the boost. Beyond that we've got composite armor shielding; the NO FEER can disperse most low-grade energy blasts without too much trouble. The engine is double plated and encased in half an inch of T-A. It takes a lot of damage and it's relatively lightweight. It's like these things were designed for us."

       "Considering Dr. Halsey's notes on anti-grav were the basis for the boost system," Linda muttered, "I'd say in a lot of ways they were."

       "And this one is…"

       "All ours. We got one of the first off the line."

       "One more question." John grinned like a kid. "When do I get to take it for a test drive?"

       The sound of an Irish flute filled the last bunkroom; a somber, haunting melody hung in the air of the complex. John had only intended to stop in the Spartan building long enough to drop off his few personal items after the exhilarating drive earlier in the day. The NO FEER, currently nicknamed the "Puma" after it's cat-like ability to climb any surface, was one of the most enjoyable vehicles he'd ever been on. His train of thought was interrupted by the odd presence of music led him to the last room in the row. He glanced in, and noted the familiar sight relaxing in one of the bunks.

       "You never mentioned you play an instrument." He sat across from Halley, surprised by the bunk's strength under his armor.

       "You never asked. Your hair looks nice, by the way." He'd stopped in at the local barber (though part of him was rather bemused at the idea that he of all people had a "local barber") and gotten himself cleaned up. Buzzed close on the sides and two and a half centimeters on top; it had been his way of remembering Sam these past few years. Halley had bothered to brush hers back, its length considerably more than it had been when they first met.

       "Thanks. When did you learn to play?" She laughed at that, returning the small steel tube to its case near her feet.

       "Hmm…about eight years ago. Paul and I got stuck in a refugee boat for four weeks waiting for pickup. The civilians on board about drove us nuts, but fortunately there was a band along with their gear on board. They taught us the ropes." She smiled, and studied him. "You know, you've got good hands for a guitar. I could teach you, if you like."

       "I don't know."

       "Have you ever seen a skill you can't master?" She walked to a locker and pulled out a beautiful, battered old acoustic guitar.

       "Well, no…unless you count math. I've never been great with math."

       "Well, then, even better. They say right-brained people are good with math, while left brained people excel with music. Look, it's easy. Just press your fingers here, these are the frets." She set the guitar in his lap, and pulled off his gauntlets before setting his fingers on the strings. His body temperature raised a few degrees, but he kept his face straight. "Gentle with the strings…and I know you can be gentle when you try." His ears started to burn a bit. "Now, this is the chord of 'C', and it's the basis of everything else..."

       She walked him through the chords, and finger-picking, and for three hours they sat and laughed and made discordant music. As the sun was starting to set, her watch went off, and she frowned.

       "I have to go, they're fitting us for our new MJOLNIR tonight. Apparently there is a surprise waiting for me." She stood up and cracked her back with a yawn. They met eyes for a moment, and she broke contact first, looking to the locker. "You can keep practicing if you like, just put the guitar away when you're done. Paul will kill me if it disappears." She put the flute case in the locker, and closed it most of the way. She glanced back, as if to say something, then snapped a salute. Without another word she left, and John strummed the strings softly, letting the instrument make a soft mournful sound.

       It's over at Obsidan.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Six: Franchelle’s Third Symphony
Date: 21 November 2005, 7:21 pm

            Chapter Six: Franchelle's Third Symphony

       It took three broken bones, eight contusions, one minor electrical burn and an outbreak of Rhienhelser's Flu to end the medical team of the Resplendent's tour of duty. Being reassigned to Obsidian's hospital was, for most army medics, a dream come true. For Jean Schaeffer it was plenty of overtime, lots of advancement opportunities, and most importantly, a place she could call home. She stepped off the tarmac and reveled at the massive Primary Housing District's welcome center along with her colleges. Whoever designed Obsidan's building structures has been an artistic genius. No expense had been spared. Unlike Reach, the UNSC's first major off-world military branch, Obsidan was also going to be home to thousands of refugees from around the galaxy. Its existence had been relatively unknown in the days before the Covenant first assaulted humankind; it sported an idealic environment but it was far to out of the way for most people to make their homes. Since the advances made in Slipspace Engineering, what had formerly been a several month trek in cold storage was now only a few short weeks.

       The detours made during Jean's trip to Obsidan, first the discovery of stranded Spartans and later the covenant waylay, had added an extra few days onto the journey. Odds were, the other Naval vessel she was expecting had arrived first…

       "MOMMY!" A child pealed across the welcome center's tiled floor at full tilt, and Jean fell to one knee and dropped her baggage, arms open wide. She swept the girl up in a hug, laughing and crying all at once.

       "Oh, baby, baby…I've missed you!" Tears filled her eyes, but even through them she could see the blurry outline of her husband, waiting his turn.

       "We've missed you too, sweetheart. Sara, show her what you made in school." The girl squirmed free and pulled her little purse out of her father's hands, rifling through the candy and pretend notes to pull out a button that she thrust into her mother's hands. It was a pressed flower, sealed behind plastic.

       "It's called a 'daisy' and it's a kind a flower that grows on Earth. They grow all kinds of Earth flowers here that won't grow anywhere else! And there's a boy in my class named Davie and he let me have the prettiest flower 'cause I told him my mom was coming on a spaceship and since his mom is already here he said I should take it 'cause it's the specialest flower of the ones we could choose from." The child finally paused for breath and Jean laughed, hugging her and looking at the pin.

       "Can I put it on?"

       "Of course!" They both worked together to pin it to her lapel, and with a minimum of pricked fingers it sat gleaming over Jean's heart. She stood, letting go of her daughter's hand and hugging her husband at last, losing herself in the feel of his arms and the smell of his old leather coat. He sighed, tightening his arms, and his eyes looked suspiciously misty when they parted. They had decided to take their jobs, hers in the military medical field and his in construction, because it was the best way to provide a good life for their child. The months spent apart were horrible for all three of them, but then there were days like this. Sara grinned, hopping up and down and staring up expectantly. "Are you really for real going to live here with us from now on?"

       Jean smiled at her daughter, feeling the dreary months spent in space melting away under the bright skylights of the welcome center. "Really for real."

       "You're late." The technician's secretary waved Halley through the door, and the Head Tech himself looked about as happy as if he'd bit into a lemon. "Honestly, is it so much to ask for you Spartans to think of anyone other than yourselves?" Halley looked around the man's shoulder at the others in the room; Paul lifted his eyebrows, drew a few quick circles around his ear and pointed at the tech's back. She managed to suppress the smile as she walked over to him, taking a moment to examine his shoulder.

       "Any loss of mobility?"

       "Nope. The burns were mostly superficial. It'll be ugly for a while, but I'm used to that." He grinned. "I have to look at Nile's mug all the time."

       The bigger Spartan cracked up, and the boom of his laughter sent the already edgy techs back a few meters. He was huge even before encased in green. "No kidding, man, I feel bad for the mirrors." He traced the deep groove that ran from his right eyebrow, across his nose, and down to curve under his chin on the left side of his face. His right eye was cloned, one of the first and most successful visual transplants the medical community had ever seen. The scar made an already rough appearance that much more intimidating, but far from being embarrassed by the mark, Nile was proud of it. He'd caught the tip of a plasma blade during an insertion op shortly after they had graduated. Thanks to his selflessness, Kaina-254 (the only Spartan field surgeon the program ever had) was still alive and keeping others that way.

       "So what's the big 'surprise' I was promised?" Halley put a hand on her hip, removing it a moment later with a silent warning. A few of Cortana's gestures had bled over, and she was constantly correcting herself. She clasped her hands behind her back instead, and glanced to the separated back room.

       "I don't know, they won't tell us. Although…" Aril started tapping her fingers rapid-fire on the counter, and Halley cocked an eyebrow. Morse code had been antiquated long before even the Spartan I's had been in service, but the second class of Spartan II's had learned it from Deja. It was occasionally a secret language for them, subtle enough to pass messages right in front of others.

       They had tried the trick with Dr. Halsey once, but she had interrupted them with a quickly tapped, "I know Morse code too, Spartans." They had been sheepish, but she'd been proud. She'd even confessed later that they conversed so fast she'd been able to discern what they were doing, but not what they were saying. Only AIs ever managed to keep up. Aril tapped out, "I hacked their incoming files, we're talking serious encryption here. All I know is it's something designed by Dr. Halsey."

       Halley tapped back, "Hopefully they'll can the suspense soon." She blinked in surprise as the holocrystals overhead warmed, and a woman dressed in Victorian garb materialized a few feet in front of her.

       "Indeed, SPARTAN 292, we'll dispense with it immediately." The AI tossed her elaborately curled red hair, and began walking towards the back room, the area accommodating for the hologram's motions. "I am Sienna. I am one of ONI's attaches to Dr. Halsey's current research. I'm here today to test a prototype out on you, 292, if you are willing to participate." Halley nodded, curious, and trailed behind her, the other Spartans following suit. In the space beyond, a plexiglass mannequin stood in the center of the room, a scaled-down suit of MJOLNIR armor set on it. The armor was like nothing the Spartans had ever seen, and Halley walked up to touch it, running her fingers delicately over the rounded violet segments that were set at intervals about the armor.

       "These look like the same material that the Covenant Banshees' anti-grav pods are made out of," Aril remarked. Nile's eyebrows shot up.

       "Flying Spartans? Sounds like a circus act." He reached out to touch as well, narrowing his eyes. "Really smooth."

       "Astute of you to recognize. Yes, Dr. Halsey has been helping design the human-compatible versions of Covenant technology, most recently successfully reproducing their flight systems." Sienna stood back, lifting a parasol to her shoulder. "Unfortunately, the system is far less effective when combined with MJOLNIR. For one thing, the power system is the same one that controls your shields, making them slightly less potent when the Levitation Drive is active. It also has a weight capacity, it caps out around two hundred kilograms." She spun the parasol lightly.

       "I see." Halley stepped back, biting her lip. "I'm the only Spartan who weighs less then that fully suited up."

       "There is another reason, too. The onboard computer system that metes out power distribution is highly complex. The human brain, even an augmented one, can't handle that kind of information that fast. It would require the finite control of an AI…Or in your case, a psudo-AI." Halley shuddered.

       "Is this thing is going to use all my processing speed?" She hated talking about her inhuman side in front of her team; she felt it distanced her from them. Aril gave her a comforting smile in response to her tone of voice; the Asian computer specialist understood better than most what it cost Halley to act human with a brain that ran at the speed of an artificial intelligence.

       "Not all, not even close, but enough that it's more than humans can withstand. There will be thousands of variables a second to compensate for. Even while in flight, the suit is on a very limited timer before your shields start to suffer from the overdraw. On the upside, the fusion generator in the back is entirely redesigned, smaller with more yield than a traditional pack. It's the basis for the Mark Eight that the rest of your team will be utilizing in the near future." There was a little cheer from Nile and Paul at that.

       "What do you call this, then?" The AI snickered.

       "I doubt you'll get the joke, but it's been tagged the Mark Seven-Point-Five."

       "I don't."

       "Actually," Aril broke in, "A few hundred years ago, way before humans really got off Earth, they used to name upgraded programs by number, and small changes were designated by fractions of a number, such as 'point-five.' It's like they were afraid they were going to run out of numbers." She shook her head. "Silly."

       Nile started chuckling, and when attention was turned to him, he held up his hands in mock defense. "I thought the joke was because it kept you from getting a tan." Aril blinked. "The Mark SPF?" Even she had to start laughing at that, although the AI still didn't seem to understand.

       "SPARTAN 215 was correct."

       "Yes, but Nile was funnier. When can I put it on?" Halley could only barely keep her curiosity in check.

       "Now, if you like."

       "Done." Halley stripped down, and Paul stepped up to help her don the suit, the techs watching surprised by the Spartan's self-sufficiency. Nile hissed as Halley's pale, naked form was revealed.

       "Halley, baby, Sprite, what did they do to you?" His concern was reflected in his eyes, his shoulders going rigid. Halley glanced down to her ribs, at the deep red scars that crossed her from front to back. The marks were still in the process of healing. She smiled back at him.

       "Don't worry, I'm not trying to out-do you. They'll be faded in no time. Not bad for a set of replaced organs and a couple of cracked ribs, though, eh?" His eyes lost a little of their worry, but he still had that guilty look, like he'd personally failed to protect her. Perhaps a side effect of his size, he looked at all the Spartans as his "little brothers and sisters." He was willing to take any hit to keep them from being hurt. Seeing something he couldn't have prevented galled him to no end.

       Halley slipped on the MJOLNIR suit, Paul fastening the pieces she couldn't reach. Less than ten minutes later she stepped onto the shield activation pad, the other Spartans stepping a small ways back. Halley lifted her faceplate up to grin at them. "Nice to have a helmet again."

       "Try not to blow this one up," Paul cheerfully shot back. She gestured, and he laughed. "Same to you. In seventy-five degrees Celsius with a Hunter and a tube of toothpaste." Halley laughed hysterically, and snapped her faceplate back down.

       "Please, 292, do hold still. This will only take a moment." The bars of light began to pivot about her rapidly, and a smell of burned ozone filled the air. The suit crackled and hummed, and the violet pods began to glow for a moment before fading away as the shields recharged. Halley took a deep breath, and something loud, hard, and fast slammed into the back of her scull, nearly knocking her out. Force of will alone kept her on her feet, and then a hundred voices screamed at her for attention. She did the only thing she could, and started partitioning her mind, sorting each voice out. She finally reached the last one, and it was coming from outside her head, not in it.

       "Shit…Hal? Can you hear me?" She was looking up at Paul, who looked really worried, and people were shouting in the background.

       "Yes…now. Ouch. Sienna, why didn't you warn me about that?" She sat up, and across the room Nile put a very pale Head Technician down.

       The AI looked quite flustered. "We didn't know! I told you it was a prototype. No one else could possibly control it." Halley groaned, and stood up.

       "Well, for the record, it hurts. And it's loud. And now I feel almost as crowded as I did when Cortana was in here." She shook her head. "Alright, I paid the price, time for the reward. I need a little space." She put a hand on Paul's arm, softening her tone. "Really, I'm okay. It just took me by surprise." He pulled back to a good distance, still looking concerned. She sighed, and started focusing on the suit. Once again the violet anti-grav pods lit up, only this time it was a sustained glow. She lifted onto her tiptoes, and curled one leg up, balanced on the ball of her left foot. She put her hands out for balance, and gave a tiny push against the floor. She levitated a silent, violet trailed half-meter up before the pods flared again, and she halted mid-air.

       "Okay, flooring my teammate aside, that is the coolest suit ever." Paul grinned against his will. Halley had to agree, as she curled her limbs in and rotated smoothly head over feet, again halting with a small flare of the pods.

       "Not subtle in a dark environment, but well, well worth it." At about the ten second mark her shield bar began to drain in the corner of her HUD, and she cut power to the pods. They faded back to normal and she landed easily on her feet. "Not terribly long, but am I right in saying I could push it longer if I dump the shield recharge?" Sienna nodded.

       "It would leave you exposed."

       "Obviously. But sometimes it's worth it. So can I keep this one?" Sienna rolled her eyes, and twirled her parasol again.

       "Well, I don't see Dr. Halsey demanding it back any time soon. Although you do need to take it off for a little while. Admiral Warwick has a mission of sorts for the Spartans."

       "Well, I'm ready to get back in the field." Paul cracked his fingers.

       "I'm not sure if I should be informing you of this, but it's a diplomatic mission, rather than combat."

       Halley lifted the helmet off, shaking out her lengthening white locks. "They need Spartans for a non-combat situation? What kind of diplomatic situation needs us?"

       "Actually," Sienna said with one last twist of the parasol, "It's a party."

       "A party?" John lifted both eyebrows in surprise, as Cortana hid her glee behind her hand.

       "I am not making this up." She gave her voice a lofty edge. "Vice Admiral James Warwick is married to one Senator Felicity Warwick, who is throwing a gala," she started laughing again, "on the third night of December, to which all the Spartans are invited. And it gets better, the Admiral respectfully requests that you consider the invitation mandatory and in your best interests to attend." She couldn't hold her mirth in anymore, and sat on the mahogany desk in the Spartan's library.

       "In our best interest?" He frowned. "Is that a threat?"

       "No, no, no, he's actually being serious. His wife recently published an article for ONI eyes only…"

       "Which I'm sure you intercepted."

       "…which suggests that in our current state of control in the war, people are going to start looking to how we've won what we've won, a little more closely. Specifically: questions regarding the Spartan II program. It's no secret that you single-handedly diffused the Halo situation."

       "Single-handedly? That's a massive exaggeration." He frowned at Cortana, eyebrows drawn together, and she rolled her eyes.

       "I know, I was there. But that's not how it looks. Dr. Halsey will be crucified if the truth behind the Spartans ever comes to light, and enough people were in on the secret that it does bare considering. No matter how much the Spartans did for humanity, humanity will always find something about you that is different. The senator needs to humanize you in the eyes of the media, and the public. People, ordinary civilians and military personnel, have died as a direct result of the Spartans." Her tone softened, and she looked away. "Children."

       John bristled at that. "None of us regret the life we lead. Dr. Halsey gave us purpose. She made us stronger."

       Cortana shook her head. "That's not how they'll see it. They'll call you brainwashed. Conditioned to speak highly of the 'monster' Dr. Halsey was." She jumped in surprise as the Chief took a step towards her, eyes flaring with rage.

       "Don't you ever call her that again." Cortana looked genuinely nervous, and he flared his nostrils and turned his gaze away. "She did what she had to." He clenched his jaw, the veins in his forehead pulsing with suppressed anger. Cortana bit her lip, and tilted her head apologetically. He caught sight of her face and sighed, tossing his gaze to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. Don't look at me like that." He shrugged. "I hate hormones." He started towards the doorway, and Cortana leaned forward.

       "Should I RSVP for you?"

       He replied without looking back. "Tell the Admiral's wife that my team and I will be there." The door slid shut behind him, and Cortana hung her head a moment before letting the holocrystals cool down. She knew the real reason the Chief wanted that expression off her face. It wasn't one of hers.

       It was one of Halley's.

       The vista where the party was being held was a beautiful wintry scene. The mountain range fifty miles north of Obsidan's PHD had been home to hopeful entrepreneurs looking to design a perfect tourist attraction a generation ago. The long travel time had rendered their plans ultimately futile, but the hotel resort had been resurrected when Obsidan came into the UNSC's possession. Unlike the PHD's location, which was in the middle of its summer season during December, the mountain range was awash with natural snow. Children who had never seen snow before were running about, screaming gleefully, and as John walked towards the entranceway of the resort, he wondered if he'd ever really been that young. Glancing over his shoulder, he did a double take as Will leaned his head back and caught a snowflake on his tongue with a grin. It was quickly replaced with a scowl as he realized he was being watched.

       "What?" The Chief had to acknowledge the brightening of Will's mood was a balm to his own abraded memories, to see him reclaim any of that easy-going demeanor from his youth was a blessing. Of course, he couldn't tell Will that.

       "If Fred is acting like he's sixteen, you acting like you're six."

       "Shut up!"

       "Oh right, that proves me wrong." He rolled his eyes and walked through the doorway as Linda and Kelly started laughing, the latter certainly more enthused. In the six weeks since the invitation to this soiree came, the last member of his immediate team had finally caught up with them again. She and Linda had been talking constantly, finally giving John the impression that even the girls had been altered by the breakdown of the implant. Of course, they had also been arguing over the most inane topics. Living in the Spartan complex was an experience like nothing he'd ever envisioned. Being side by side with the second-class Spartans was more comfortable by the day, and he had a feeling that they were developing a cohesion that would be fantastic on the battlefield.

       The only downside to their living quarters was five-foot-eight and unavoidable. She played off their decision smoothly, never giving active attention to her feelings. He might even have believed she'd gotten over them, if not for the occasional wistful glances and awkward moments alone. He'd actually dented the metal countertop in the kitchen a week ago when she walked past close enough to brush against him. His hand had clenched down so hard on the table it had left grooves in it and bruises on his fingers. She'd left the quarters soon after, moving into the PHD's engineering district for a few days to help Aril with the shielding system. He couldn't have fathomed he'd miss her presence.

       "Uh, Chief? You alright?" Kelly put a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced down, startled. "Okay, just making sure you're still with us. We're in rooms forty-four through forty-six." He blinked in surprise, he'd actually been distracted enough that he'd missed them checking in. He was really getting careless.

       "I'm fine, I was just thinking." He led his team down the first hallway, and pushed open the door to room forty-four. There was a terrible cacophony of noise and shouting, and he poked his head in carefully, expecting to see a fight. Instead, Nile, Micha, and Paul were playing some sort of bizarre game on the room's massive vid screen, and by the sound of it going crazy in the process.

       "Stop looking at my damn screen!" Nile growled at Micha, who muttered unintelligibly back. Paul sighed, and paused the game with some hand-held controller.

       "Stop bitching about who's watching which screen. Next person who does is sleeping on the balcony. Without blankets."

       "What are you playing?" Will looked in with interest, and Fred grinned as well.

       "I'm not really sure, it's some old vid game Nile found in storage. It's kinda fun though. At least it is," he drew in a large breath, "When Nile stops bitching!" Nile gestured back. "Same to you with my controller up your ass. Vibration set to 'frenzy.'" Nile's eyebrows danced.

       "Just when you think you've heard them all…Hey, we have room for one more."

       "Dibs." Fred and Kelly spoke almost in unison. Kelly barely beat him out. "Oh come on!" She was always faster.

       "Alright, have a seat, we'll walk you through it. First person who loses sits out to let someone else in." Nile stood, and moved to another chair, opening up enough space for Linda and Kelly to share. Will and Fred were stuck with the floor, and John opted to stay standing.

       He cleared his throat and glanced to the closest thing the second generation Spartans had for a leader. "Do you have any details on when the function starts?" Paul glanced up from a chocolate bar he was opening and nodded.

       "We're supposed to start showing up around nineteen-hundred hours. Anything within two hours after that is acceptable." He held up another bar. "You want one?"

       "No, thank you." He looked back a bit puzzled. "Where did you get those?"

       "There's a whole refrigerator full of them, with these teeny tiny bottles of alcohol in there too." He grinned. "Alcohol, not just for cleaning battle wounds anymore!" Nile laughed so hard he dropped his controller. Kelly, having caught on to the system fast, took the opportunity to strike.

       "Seeing as how you're a girl, I'll forgive that this once." Nile tried to scowl, but couldn't quite manage. John cleared his throat.

       "Exactly how many of these 'teeny tiny' bottles of alcohol have you already opened?"

       Paul glanced at the trash bag set up nearby. "About half."

       "Oh." He frowned. Every inch of him screamed that this was wrong, Spartans should never, ever behave like this. The fact that their "mission" was to attend a party was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. That they were technically on leave, and free to be as civilian-like as they had ever wanted, didn't help his state of mind any. The worst part was, they looked so happy. Will made good-natured wisecracks, Linda quietly pointed out weaknesses in peoples defenses to Kelly, Kelly made the most of the advice and romped and stomped through the game like she'd been playing all her life, and Fred was perched on the edge of his seat, anxiously waiting his turn. If he'd had a knife on hand, he'd have been spinning it.

       We're in the middle of the mountains, far away from any Covenant location, utterly unprepared for an attack and acting like a group of civilians. I can't order my team to be ready, because we're off duty. Not to mention they wouldn't be happy anymore. My team deserves some happiness. He snorted. And now I'm talking to myself. Yes John. You've gone insane. He started towards the balcony, and Kelly glanced up. He hadn't seen a smile like that since…since they were children.

       "You know, John, you can join us." She laughed as the controller in her hands buzzed, denoting someone taking advantage of the distraction. She otherwise ignored it. "You can lead us, and still have a good time with us too."

       Mendez would have understood. "No. I can't." He walked out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him, and lowered his head into his hands. He'd hurt her feelings. He knew that without looking back. This whole damn thing was just too complicated.

       The quickly sobered up younger Spartans headed off to the gala early, giving their elders a little time alone with the addictive vid game. Getting ready was simple, they had already opted to go in their dress uniforms. Medals of honor of every kind were arranged on their chests, John's collection the most impressive of all. He had to leave several purple hearts off to make room. Mendez would have been proud. His team started to look nervous as they marched down the hall towards the conference room. Playing "civilians" in the privacy of their room was one thing, being surrounded by them in a social setting was something else entirely.

       Kelly walked a little faster to get along side him, and talked softly as they approached the elevators. "John, I know this it hard on you. Just, try to think of it as a mission, or better yet, a challenge. We've conquered everything else, now we have to conquer fitting in. It's stupid, but necessary if we're going to have lives after the war." She squeezed his shoulder, and they got on the elevators headed up. John was quiet the whole ride, thinking, and when they reached the tenth floor he hung back a little, gesturing for her to stay. Kelly was his oldest friend next to Sam. Only with her could he ever be truly honest about this.

       "I don't know if I'm up for this one, Kelly." He looked at the backs of his Spartans as they walked towards the far end of the hall, and shook his head. "I think the war is my life." She smiled sadly, and adjusted his suit jacket, straightening an already straight campaign medal.

       "You can do this John. You always win." She leaned up and kissed his cheek, an insanely intimate gesture for a Spartan, and he finally cracked a fond little smile in return.

       "Maybe. But I think it will take a miracle to pass me off as human." He stepped up to the door at the end of the hall, and put his most neutral look on his face. The crowd was enormous, classical music filled the air, and the smell of food and perfume fought for dominance. It was fascinating and horrifying all at the same time. No one greeted the Spartans overtly as they filed through the doorway, unconsciously making a visual sweep of the perimeter and giving quick hand gestures of "all clear," not that they actually expected to run into Covenant here. John glanced up to survey the ceiling, and when he brought his eyes back down, a miracle stepped out of a crowd that parted like silk under a razor in her wake. Thought fled his mind with the same sort of burst a plasma grenade might cause.

       "Glad you made it." Halley smiled warmly, and all five Spartans stared in disbelief at her outfit. A deep navy blue dress hung from her hips in cascade of velvet; black ermine lined a slender waist and all the garment's trims. A fall of starry silver specks clung like snowflakes to the bottom of the velvet, lessening as they rose till only a few were visible about her waist and none at all on her torso. Black gloves lined her hands up to her elbows, and seeing their expression she glanced down at the finery with a little frown. John blinked the stars out of his eyes.

       "Halley, you look…" He froze, at a loss for words. Will looked at his face, frowned, tapped Fred's shoulder and whispered something. Fred glanced over, raised an eyebrow, and nodded.

       "Yeah, I'd definitely say he's 'stunned.'" Will nodded back, tapped the Chief on the shoulder, and whispered in his ear.

       "The word you're looking for is 'stunning.'"

       "Stunning." It was pure reflex, as he trusted his teammate just as much in this situation as any other. It seemed to be the right choice of words, as Halley blushed in response, from her cheeks right down to the rather low ermine neckline. She muttered something, and he blinked again. "What?"

       "I said…I lost a bet. To Aril." She sighed, the faint touch of makeup accenting her natural beauty without covering it up. Her hair had even been elaborately curled and pinned, with some sort of silvery spray holding the usually chaotic strands in perfect harmony. "She set me up, I think, but I still agreed to it. She even," Halley said, rolling her eyes, "pierced my ears. Today I take it all back, I am a damn porcelain doll." She bit her lip, and blinked up through eyes that (heaven help me) were darkened with mascara. John crawled his way out of the fog he'd been suffused with, and managed a smile.

       "No porcelain doll I ever heard of could survive a fifteen meter drop off a cliff." That seemed to be exactly what she needed to hear, and she grinned back pertly.

       "Okay, enough fuss over this stupid dress. We're over at table three." She started back through the crowd, grabbing a Champaign glass off a passing tray. "There's more food then you could imagine, and I think Nile's trying to eat it all. That terrible Felichity woman is around somewhere, trying to make us act more 'human' and getting us to 'be relaxed.' I'd rather be in the middle of a covenant camp then here." She downed half the Champaign in one solid gulp, and John raised a brow. "At least then I'd be allowed to hit things." She offered him the rest of the glass, and he stared at it like it was a rather large insect that just crawled onto his hand. "John, we're not Spartans today. We're whatever we want to be today." She didn't say it aloud, but her eyes finished the thought.

       "I don't have to pretend I don't love you today."

       He felt heat rise to his face, and downed the glass she offered as effortlessly as she had. She smiled and took it back, slipping the empty glass subtly back onto another of the passing trays going around. "Come on, another member of my team is here. You'll like Tom, he's almost as stuffy as you."

       "I'm not 'stuffy.'" She rolled her eyes and led him to table three.

       "Yeah, and hunters smell like roses."

       Linda and Fred hung back, watching the exchange between the two squad leaders. She looked at him with interest glowing in her dark green eyes. "Have you noticed how his veneer of impassiveness seems to vanish the moment she's around?"

       "You kidding? All his sense goes up in smoke too." He grinned. "I knew about it weeks ago." He enjoyed her look of confusion for a moment. "The day on the tarmac, when John first got here? He corrected me when I called her 'legs.'"

       "Right…?"

       "It's all in the tone of voice. It's like if I said to you…your favorite rifle is the SCR nine something." She bristled.

       "It's an SRS99C…" She blinked. "Oh. I see what you mean."

       "Yeah. I recognized that tone of voice. It's a guy thing."

       "A guy…what the hell is a guy thing?" He grinned, dancing out of punching range. "I'll give you a guy thing…" She froze as she remembered they were in the midst of a crowd, and although they were off to the side and not being paid attention to, it was a sobering realization. They headed to table three quietly, feeling much more at home surrounded by their own kind.

       The peace lasted only another half hour before a woman in her late-fifties dared to break form and approach their table. She had the look of a woman who had been absolutely beautiful in her day, but the beauty was faded and lessened by the obviously fake smile she greeted them all with.

       "Hello, everyone, I'm Senator Warwick. I'm so thrilled that you came to my gala. Tell me, are you having a good time?" A general murmur of assent turned her already false smile even dryer. John cleared his throat.

       "We're having a wonderful time, Ma'am." She seemed genuinely surprised at that, and a little respect glowed in her shrewd eyes.

       "Well, good, good. Although I do wish you would spread out a bit more. You've essentially cut yourself off from the crowd." She turned an eye to Halley, who scowled back at her. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, dear, but really, this is a good thing for your people. They just need to mingle a little." Halley's frown deepened, and the woman dropped her pretences with a sigh. "Give me one good media shot and I'll leave you alone the rest of the night. I know you don't see it that way, but I'm really trying to help." There was just enough honesty in her voice to crack the shell.

       "Fine. One." The politician smiled again and whisked away. "Wretched woman." John touched Halley's shoulder so lightly it's a wonder she felt it at all. She looked back all the same.

       "Why do you hate her so much?" Halley shook her head.

       "I'll tell you someday. And it's not pleasant." She glanced around, and as the orchestra struck up another tune, she tilted her head. "Francehelles's Third Symphony? I know this one." John couldn't help but smile.

       "Dr. Halsey had a recording of this…" he started, and she nodded.

       "…in her office, and it had a vid of professionals…"

       "…doing a waltz to it." He shook his head at the nostalgia. "Did you ever see…"

       "…her dancing along with it? Yeah. Fond memory, that one." Halley glanced at the dance floor, and bit her lip. She took John's hand, greatly daring, and stared up at him, a question in her eyes. "Someone once told me Spartans are like regular people, only better. Care to help me prove that statement true?" He stared back down, pulse picking up, and he looked across to the people dancing. The steps were simple. The timing was effortless. Nothing, not the UNSC, not the Covenant, not all the politicians in the world could have asked him to go out on that dance floor. He'd have laughed at them. As he gazed down into Halley's eyes, that same request was there. And for the first time in his life he realized something other than duty could cause him to put aside pride and the mantle of leadership. Something else mattered.

       There would be life after the war. And he was going to be part of it.

       The steps were easy. Being at the center of so much attention, however, was difficult. They walked onto the dance floor and moved effortlessly to the music, eyes never breaking contact. Tiny steps from a long forgotten vid were pulled out of memory and used, the fear of physical contact and the dangerous doors it opened discarded. They never even noticed the crowd of dancers pulling away to make room. The "oohs" and "ahhs" were ignored. Her body moved like an extension of his, and he realized with an almost electric shock that he was actually enjoying himself. It was by far the strangest moment of his life.

       Dr. Halsey had arrived late and intended to leave early. She sighed to herself as Francehelle's Symphony started playing as per her request, and busied herself avoiding people she didn't want to talk to and typing on a data pad. A hand caught her shoulder and she turned around, scowling back at Felicity Warwick's false smile. The woman's connections to COMET had always disturbed her, and the scientist-turned-politician act never altered that fact. That deep down her own guilt over SPARTAN had caused Dr. Halsey to judge the woman harshly had occurred to her, but that hadn't changed her opinions any.

       "Yes, Felicity?" She dropped the honorific intentionally; it was part of the tête-à-tête the women played in social company.

       "Your Spartans are dancing. I just thought you'd want to know, Catherine." Dr. Halsey blinked in surprise, and moved to a clear place in the room, her jaw falling open. It was John and Halley of all people, moving like dancers who'd been studying their entire lives. John had a genuine hint of a smile on his face, and Halley…was in a dress.

       "Did…I not actually wake up today?" She looked to Felicity, truly puzzled.

       "After the Master Chief's exposure to the Spartans in Diphen, I saw no need to keep the ruse up anymore. After all, the Complex in the Primary Housing District dedicated to them was dedicated to all of them." Halsey shook her head.

       "But...why dancing?"

       "Halley agreed to give me a good picture I could paint for the media in exchange for me leaving the Spartans alone the rest of the night. I assume she chose the Master Chief because he's the most well known of them. Or maybe it because he cuts such a fine figure on the dance floor." She smiled appreciatively at the handsome, dark haired man; his chiseled features and mournful eyes had already gotten several of Felicity's collogues asking her if he was seeing anyone. She'd barely managed to keep from laughing when asked.

       "Genetics." Halsey narrowed her eyes. It was only irony that the child of her DNA would be the one to follow through on the attraction John exuded. She didn't believe it was an act for the cameras in the least. I wonder how Cortana's handling it. The AI had been rather curt with her since she'd been left behind when Dr. Halsey had vanished with Kelly. If Halsey didn't know better, she'd have guessed the AI was suffering from abandonment issues. "I need to leave. I have too much work to get done."

       "Catherine…" Felicity's voice dropped its usual bite. "Shouldn't you let them know you're here?"

       "No. My Spartans are grown up, Felicity." She turned, and edged out of the room, taking one last look at the dancers. It had been worth it to see them.

       "And I'm serious, she even got the staff in on it." Halley sat at the Spartan's table, explaining the bet she'd lost earlier in the day. John was trying not to laugh, and Aril wasn't even bothering anymore. "They stuck me in room 117, I'm not kidding, she handpicked it…" Aril giggled, nodding.

       "It's funnier that way. I had to pick a number that would get that reaction. Yup, that's the one." She giggled again, and sipped her drink.

       "Oh, hilarious. Could you have picked anything gaudier for me to be stuck wearing?" Aril explained the dress to Halley, and the Chief glanced around the table, amazed at the change a brief hour made. Tom and Francine discussed sniper rifles with Linda, and by the sounds of things the women were in accordance, as they systematically ripped the serious, dark skinned Spartan's argument to pieces between them. Fred and Kelly discussed the idea of going skiing in the morning, with a general negative response from Micha due to the amount of drinking being done. Paul joined them a moment later, and it took a meager two shots of something green the bartender was calling "The Spartan Bomb" to get the Russian on board. Nile listened half-heartedly to the various topics going around, unwilling to settle on just one. He and Will passed jokes back and forth, usually to the detriment of the other conversations.

       "Chief, that you?" John looked up quickly, smiling as he stood.

       "Sergeant Johnson." The sergeant grinned, chewing on the end of a cigar that had seen better days.

       "Well, hell, Master Chief, I didn't recognize you with that thing on your face! That a smile, son?" He laughed, and straightened his tux. "How'd they get you people in here, anyway? I've never walked up to a Spartan without having a gun pointed at me!"

       Halley smiled, and tapped her left leg, to the small bulge located on the inside of her thigh near her knee. John remembered the incident aboard the Resplendent. The woman took always being armed very seriously. "Technically, you still haven't."

       "Whoa boy," he said with a little irreverent salute to the Chief, "you never told me Spartans come in 'pretty.' And you are?"

       "Halley." He raised his eyebrows. "No need to bother with rank tonight. Its just Halley."

       "I like your style, girl. Avery Johnson, call me A.J." John rolled his eyes. "I told you before, son. I know what the ladies like. Down to business, there's an after party going on in the bar downstairs after all the bigwigs go to bed. Spartans are definitely invited. I'm calling it, 'A. J. Johnson's After-Party Party.'" He gestured an imaginary billboard in the air, and John chuckled. "Hope to see you there, Chief. It'll cut down on the friction, if you know what I mean." He winked at Halley, and swaggered off. She grinned.

       "He seems fun."

       "He's a friend." The Chief sat back down, sipped water and looked at the thinning crowd. "He has a point, though, things here are dying out."

       "Yeah, no kidding. Security already shut the nonessential cameras down." When he tilted his head questioningly, she tapped the back of her head. "Wetwired, remember?"

       "And you just monitor computer systems constantly?"

       "I have to find something for the rest of my brain to do. It's only rare occasions that I'm totally focused. It's why I like combat so much." She shrugged. "I'm done here. Did my time, now the dress must die." She touched his face lightly, eyes locking with his. Good night, Master Chief." She said her other farewells and left. Not long after, the remaining Spartans made similar decisions. John and Fred got as far as the elevator, before the Chief grumbled in irritation, looking at his chest.

       "I lost a pin." He looked at the floor, and shook his head. "I'll join you in a bit, I want to make sure it's not still in there." He walked back to the conference room as the elevator doors closed, and as soon as they shut he detoured into the fire escape. He descended the stairs quickly, re-entering the hotel on the one hundreds floor. He walked to room One Seventeen, and ran his fingers over the brail under the engraved numbers. The door opened, and he took a deep breath. "I'm looking for a thief."

       The door opened more, and he entered the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

       "Your turn."

       "Alright. This one." Halley sat near the edge of the bed, knees drawn up and her hair once more a messy cloud. She reached out and traced a scar on John's chest that started over his right collarbone and arched down until it reached his ribs. He leaned back against the pillows propped on the headboard and considered for a moment.

       "Picture the inside of the chest piece of a Mark four." She chewed her lip in thought, then sat up further, eyes widening.

       "Oh, right, there was a seam right about there!" He nodded.

       "It was about six years ago, I think. Pre-shielding. It was your typical 'repel the ground forces' operation, but Linda took a Banshee pilot out towards the end, and the thing landed on me." Halley covered her mouth with one hand to hide the smile. "Never even saw it coming. Linda apologized for weeks. It cracked my armor, and we had to jog six kilometers back to the LZ. The split just kept sawing into my chest the whole time. Superficial but messy." He smiled. "My turn, I think… I've been wondering about this one for a while." He reached across to touch the small depression two inches above her right breast. "If I'm not mistaken there's a matching one on your back, under the shoulder blade."

       "Good memory you've got there. Yeah, impaled by a ghost's fusion piston." He cringed a little at that. "First time I ever saw a ghost. I'm running recon with Paul, and this thing flies up at us out of nowhere. All I have on hand is a pistol, so I open fire, and wouldn't you know, million to one shot I hit the battery pack. Boom. The Elite flies over my head, and I shoot him about six times before he even hits the ground. Splick."

       "Is 'splick' even a real word?" He grinned, deflecting the halfhearted punch and pinning her hand to the bed.

       "You're ruining the story." She mock-scowled and continued, not bothering to free her hand. "So he goes splick and I'm looking at him, my back to the ghost."

       "Oh no."

       "Oh yes. I told you, I never saw one before. The fusion reactor blows up behind me, and another million to one shot, the piston shoots right through the back of my shoulder and out the front. Lodged at the grooved end." John winced again. Spartans underwent a lot of pain, but being impaled was one of the all time worst. He knew from personal experience. "Paul drags me back to camp, and I'm mostly delirious from the concussion, babbling about one of Deja's assignments. Halfway there I remember where we are; only I think the Elite has me. Paul had bruises for a solid week." John laughed, leaning back again. "My turn." She leaned across, her face hovering close to his, and she gently touched the scar on his chin.

       "Boring story. First day we trained with serrated blades. They needed us to realize the difference between a sharp blade and a dull one." He considered kissing her while she was so close, but instead pushed her back, grabbing for her feet in the confusion. She giggled and struggled, but between his greater size and strength he prevailed, grabbing a hold of her foot. "This one." He tapped the sole of her foot, and she screamed, kicking for freedom and failing.

       "No nonono…I'm ticklish, let go." She giggled and slapped at his shoulder. When it didn't budge him she gave up and settled for a position leaning against his chest. "Okay, but if you tickle me, I will hit hard. It's actually got a good story, and it has a saying, too. If you took the shoes off my whole team, you'd find out that Micha, Paul, Kaina and Chris all have the exact same scars." She gestured to the long faded burn scars that climbed as high as her ankles. "Ever hear of Thesis?"

       "In a doctoral sense, yes. As a system, no." He amused himself as he listened, the fingers of his right hand tugging at her hair, removing the last few clips that had survived their earlier encounter.

       "Okay. Well, it was mostly a resort world. Huge lava fields fed into an ocean that was perpetually seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Beautiful, tropical world. It got glassed in 2547. My team and I got sent down there to get people evacuated, but our pelican took a hit fifty kilometers out from our LZ. Pilot died instantly. We got dropped in the middle of a lava field." John's mouth fell open. "Granted, it was mostly solid, but insanely scorching. We had to hotfoot it to the LZ, pun intended. We took off all the top sections of our armor, sacrificed it for survival. The air-conditioning units failed in a matter of minutes. Longest run of my life, and Kaina went down two kilometers away from out destination. I was the only one close enough at the time, so I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She's the most incredible surgeon you've ever seen, but she never could take as much damage as we could. So now, no matter how bad things get, it's still better that 'a hot drop into hell' because we've actually been there. Took thirteen weeks for the skin to regrow." She smiled as John tossed another hairclip onto the floor.

       "That must have been excruciating."

       "It was. Fortunately, the UNSC made enough advances in nerve graphing that we still have feeling in our feet."

       The UNSC. It would always come back to that. John sighed, and closed his eyes. "You realize we could be Court Marshaled for this?" She sat up and waited for his eyes to open. She met his gaze with a very serious expression.

       "There aren't a lot of things in this universe worth that. You are." She shook her head. "One way or another, this is going to end badly. Even if the UNSC never catches on or cares, statistically one of us is going to die in combat. No happy ending."

       "I know. That's why I wanted to take this chance." He touched her face, fingertips brushing over her skin so gently it could almost be mistaken for a breeze. "If they bring me word you've been killed in action, I don't want my next thought to be that I wasted what little time we had." She nodded in agreement.

       "Great minds think alike."

       "Halley." He took a breath, but she pressed her finger to his lips.

       "Don't say it. Our luck is going to be touch and go as it is. No need to jinx something so ready to jinx itself." She smiled, so sadly, and tears were visible in her eyes.

       "Superstitious twit." He grinned as she laughed in outrage.

       "Who taught you that one?"

       "Zephyr." She got up and balled a fist.

       "That man is so dead." John raised an eyebrow and looked her over, lips twitching.

       "Dressed like that?" She glanced down, growled and leapt back on the bed.

       "Fine, you can die first for all I care!" He stopped her assault with a kiss, and in moments, Zephyr, tragedy, and even the UNSC was forgotten.



       There was going to be life after the war. And he was going to be part of it.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Seven: Impressions In The Cameo
Date: 27 November 2005, 8:54 pm

            Chapter Seven: Impressions In The Cameo

       Warrant Officer Jhonan Dark sat quietly surrounded by his namesake, trying to banish a case of the pre-battle jitters. He grabbed his knees to stop his hands from shaking, and pulled his knees to his chest to stop them from shaking too. Curled into a little ball, he sighed and let his mind wander. He'd made a potentially fatal mistake. Danielle, beautiful red hair, dancing brown eyes; it was a wonder she'd given him the time of day. Their relationship had been brief out of necessity, but last night Jhonan had gotten trashed with the other members of his squad and let himself be talked into sending her a mail-vid.

       "Stupid….stupid…" It wasn't that he minded inebriation giving his feeling liberation, but it was bad luck to talk of the future before battle. As a pilot, luck was everything. He ran his fingers over the cameo around his neck; the last thing his mother had given him before she died. It was an heirloom, but not one he ever intended to sell. It was his good luck charm. The woman's profile had caused several other pilots to poke fun at him at first, but a few broken teeth later people gave the charm it's due respect. He hoped it had enough luck left for this battle.

       "Birds in the air, I repeat, we have birds in the air," the commander blasted in over the com, and Jhonan felt the jitters vanish in a rush of adrenaline. Live or die, this was the life he loved. He dropped his feet to the floor and ran his fingers over the warm-up sequence, not needing any light. The low-setting illumination on his cockpit kicked in, and as he looked left and right, he could see the other faint lights of his squad mates following suit. Two Longswords to his left he could see Ken climbing into his ship, and he opened his squad's personal com frequency.

       "Thought you were gonna miss the party, RedHawk."

       "Just my luck, they call the birdie when I'm in the john. Good day to die, DarkFire?"

       "Any day in a Longsword is a good day to die."

       "Do you have to say that every time?" Jen had a remarkably low, sensual voice for a woman not quite five feet tall.

       "But of course, StarBaby, you can't knock tradition."

       Their squad leader, TinAngel, jumped on the com. "Can it, Blue Team. We're out next."

       "Sir, yes, Sir!" they chorused back.

       "Tightass." Jhonan was willing to take the heat for it, someone had to keep their commander from getting too full of himself. He started the pre-burn, more of the launch bay becoming visible as the Longsword's engines began to heat up. He grinned, and rubbed his cameo one more time before tucking it into his flight suit.

       "TinAngel, Launch." There was a flash of blue as the squad leader's Longsword left the bay.

       "Camelot, Launch."

       "StarBaby, Launch."

       "SpaceDrummer, Launch." Jhonan took a deep breath, unable to help the grin that spread over his face. The engines were showing green across the board, and the manual control leavers fit snugly in his hands. All the information on the battle already in progress scrolled over his HUD, and he squeezed the acceleration handle and pushed forward.

       "DarkFire, Launch." The gees shoved him into his seat, and he let out a gleeful whoop.

       This was the only kind of life worth living.

       Tehgli of the Unggoy was enjoying his new status in life. After being taken onboard the Heretical Redemption he had been plied with food, drink, comfort, and a never-ending stream of propaganda. After being brainwashed for most of his life by the Prophets, going willingly into a belief was a nice change. The Heretic Leader, Urza Hostominee, did not claim to bring word from great and powerful gods. He instead told his followers about science, and the history of the universe as he had studied on an outskirt colony. His impressive size and brutal nature were worn like a respectable cloak over a brilliant mind and a passionate belief. Tehgli was surprised to learn he liked the leader, and followed more out of respect than fear.

       The pair of Sangheili that walked off the small Covenant dropship was an eye-catching sight, one for his fame and the other for a twist of fate. Tehgli had agreed to stand guard when they came aboard in order to report back to his brood mates; everyone wanted to know what He looked like in person. He was the last living Arbiter of this age.

       His armor was beautifully detailed; silver etchings covered every inch, and what might have seemed a gaudy display on any other was an awing sight on him. His companion trailed close at his heals, her pale blue coloring and the faint start of iridescent lines on her skin a testament to her youth and nobility. By the time she was old enough to choose a mate, those lines would be full-blown rainbow patterns, and she would stand a head above any male Sangheili. For now she was still shorter than the Arbiter, the size difference only adding to the feeling of mythos he was shrouded in.

       A Sangheili warrior stopped the two Elites in their tracks, snarling at the trailing female. "You would bring a female before the Teacher? And a child, no less?" The Arbiter crossed his arms and leaned back, impassive. With quite the opposite reaction, the female leaned forward, her mandibles clenching in agitation.

       "You question my honor?"

       The Sangheili scoffed, ignoring her and addressing the Arbiter. "The Teacher requests your presence alone." He narrowed his eyes. "Females have no honor."

       The Arbiter dropped his lower jaws in what passed for a Sangheili smile, and glanced back to the figure behind him. She dropped her hands to her hips, and with a snap, activated a pair of plasma swords. Tehgli and the other Unggoy stared in shock, and the few Elites present murmured in astonishment. To carry one plasma blade was a high honor, wielding two was unheard of. She darted in, lifting one leg to kick the offending Elite's knees apart, dropping him to the deck. In the same move she crossed the blades, white sparks leaping from the junction, and she pressed it against her enemy's neck. She dropped her lower jaws and hissed.

       "I could behead you like this. It wouldn't be pleasant." He swallowed, hard. "Never say females are without honor, for you are like to die without it for such an insult." She snapped her teeth at him, causing him to jump, and stepped back, deactivating the blades and clipping them back on her hips. Without another word she walked towards the doorway. The Arbiter looked down at the defeated Elite and shook his head.

       "You should see what she does when someone insults mine." He followed to the doorway, plainly amused by the entire power play.

       Tehgli glanced to an Unggoy at his right, bouncing on his toes in excitement. "Did you see that? I didn't know Sangheili even have females!"

       "At least not ones that leave their home world. I wonder what all those extra colors on her skin are for?" Meknet scratched his jaw around his mask. "Seems a bit much to me. But did you see his armor? I wonder if it's practical or mostly just display."

       "Well, the prophets wouldn't garb their vaunted warrior in armor that didn't work, would they?" Jeslinik, the female Unggoy Tehgli met his first day on the ship, checked her plasma pistol, shaking it to hear if the battery rattled.

       "Well, all the other Arbiters are dead, right? So maybe they don't care too much."

       Tehgli shook his head firmly. "The only things the prophets care about are themselves. Let's get back to the brood, this story is worth the telling." The Elites were arguing over honor now, and the last place an Unggoy wanted to be was between a slighted Sangheili and his pride. The three Unggoy ducked through a back door, chattering all the while.

       "You are getting cocky again." The Arbiter's deep, calming voice filled the silence of the waiting chamber, and his companion flushed a luminous violet.

       "I am not." She avoided looking at him, and crossed her arms. He waited her out, his patience far outstripping her own. She huffed a few moments later and fingered the inscriptions on her plasma sword handles. "Sarihauntee said, 'A female must fight twice as hard and be twice as strong as a male to earn her honor.' I intend to do that tenfold."

       "Agreed. However, you are still being cocky. That warrior will carry a grudge for you from now on."

       "He is welcome to his grudges. When I become head of my family, he will grovel at my feet." Her voice was low and smooth, and took on a brutal edge when speaking of her kin. The Arbiter stepped forward and placed a hand on her helmet. He tugged, and the slightly over-sized armor slid over her eyes. He chuckled and stepped back, as she struggled to right it. "Very funny." She barely got it back into place before the door opened and a Sangheili of impressive stature stepped in. He wore a long cloak of red fabric in scintillating colors stolen from a human world, and an obvious plasma sword hung at his waist, the handle worn with age and use.

       "Well, well. Once you led a fleet that crossed all the stars, then you became the heretic-turned-Arbiter. Now you lead one underage female and a handful of mismatched warriors." He gave a genuine smile, and held out a hand to the Arbiter. "It is good to see you again, Orsa."

       "And you, Urza." The Arbiter held his palm up to the Heretic's, then gestured to the female at his side. "The 'underage female' is my apprentice, Miira Sohatilhanee." She nodded politely.

       "Old Tilha had daughters? This is news to me. I thought he was without heirs."

       "He had an heir; just no sons."

       "So what did he hold over you to get you to assent to babysitting?" Miira fumed, but the old warriors walked towards a window, watching the small fleet move around the flagship. "Is she going to take you as a mate?"

       "Do not be stupid, Urza. She is only half my age. And he did not offer anything; I watched her fight her way through a pack of Jiralhanae on my last campaign. She has a talent like nothing I have seen in many years gone by. Under my tutelage, she may achieve something more than an early death." Miira poked about the room quietly, trying to find something interesting to draw her attention, and without looking back into the room, the Arbiter addressed her. "Stop fidgeting." She scowled, guiltily, and stood still. "So why have you summoned me here? It cannot be that you simply miss my company."

       "No. As it happens, I have a proposition for you. Half the remains of the original Covenant armadas are factioned off now, as you well know; and most of them have joined the greatest hunt of the universe." He held up a small crystal, faint blue lines glowing between its facets. The Arbiter's eyes widened in astonishment.

       "What is it?"

       "It is one of many such artifacts. It is, quite simply, the future of our race."

       "I've got a bogey on my tail, anyone copy?" RedHawk dipped and swerved through the battle, trying to shake the Covenant Phantom clinging to his six.

       "I copy, RedHawk, hang tight." DarkFire slipped into position behind the Phantom and dropped a full load out of the chain guns. The Phantom was a slightly smaller fighter than the Longsword, but its wingspan was far wider. It was hell to take down, since it's battery containment was located in a very inconvenient bubble under the junction of the wings near the front of its sloping nose. The back section of the wings were made of dozens of individual propulsion units and a honeycomb of empty space. A Phantom could take a lot of damage. "StarBaby, a hand, if you could? Formation Charlie."

       "Roger. In position in five, four, three…" On one, DarkFire killed his forward momentum, kicking his drive into reverse. StarBaby, taking the three-dimensional battlefield into account, came up from underneath the Phantom and scored a direct hit on its propulsion drive. It blew apart spectacularly, and she rocketed through the debris, missing DarkFire's nose by a hair.

       "Thanks, guys. I owe you dinner." RedHawk turned back towards the firefight, and all three pilots got a spectacular show as the Intrinsic Honor's primary MAC gun blew a hole in the side of a Covenant Battle Cruiser. Ken whistled on the com. "Damn, it's pulling their damn retreat trick." They had all seen it before; a badly damaged Covenant ship would fall behind the line of undamaged ships where it could keep sending plasma blasts into anything their magnetic targeting system could track. The com crackled again, this time TinAngel addressed the pilots.

       "Blue two and Blue four, you operational?"

       "Roger."

       DarkFire checked his HUD. "Green, sir."

       "Alright, lets give the Intrinsic a hand. 'Collie' maneuver." Jhonan's already overtaxed adrenaline spiked again. While the tactic was a good one, it was risky. Only the fastest and most daring of pilots would even try.

       "Sir, hell yeah sir!" He shoved his throttle into full burn, StarBaby flying in formation on his left wing. The Covenant ship was already beginning to turn off the field, and the Longswords raced to catch up. They buzzed the massive ship, darting in and about the cannons, and Jhonan checked his HUD again. "Shields are definitely down, sir. Performing 'Collie' maneuver now." He banked hard across her undamaged port side, and shot across the bubble the Covenant bridge looked out of. He got a glimpse of the Elite Commanders within howling against the insult, and offered his middle finger as a matter of principle.

       He and StarBaby crossed the starboard side, keeping just out of the plasma cannons' targeting radius. The ship, being piloted by a pack of now infuriated Elites, turned in a desperate and fatal move to try and hit the retreating human craft. She turned her starboard side to the Intrinsic Honor, who took the now clean shot through her exposed midsection. The Covenant ship quaked under the onslaught of the MAC rounds, and lost structural integrity. She fell apart like a house built from Popsicle sticks. "Nice flying, you two. I smell a medal for that one." TinAngel's voice glowed with pride.

       "Thank you sir...What the hell?" The readings on Jhonan's HUD went chaotic, and the AI onboard the Intrinsic burst in over his com.

       "StarBaby, DarkFire, get out of there, NOW! I'm reading a massive gravitational spike in your region, Covenant backup is arriving right on top of you!" Jhonan exhaled the entire contents of his lungs in horror as the vacuum before him was ripped apart by a dozen blue ships. StarBaby screamed over the com, and he watched her Longsword detonate in a shower of sparks as a materializing cruiser smashed through her like she was confetti. His Longsword flashed a proximity warning, but Jhonan knew he stood just as much chance of dodging into another ship as away from one. He grabbed the cameo around his neck and shut his eyes. Everything went dark.

       I'm alive. The thought was hard to focus on, and Jhonan tasted salty blood in his mouth. He lifted his head, and on one side of his view screen, there was the silent, beautiful dance of ships in combat. On the other was the planet they were fighting over, huge and blue and sucking his lifeless ship down. Already the red flames of atmosphere were licking his damaged craft. He struggled to do a manual restart, but the cockpit lights stayed dead. He punched the control panel with a scream of frustration. This wasn't supposed to be the day he died.

       "Damn, girl! Fuck! Fuck you! Wake UP!!!" He punched the panel again. If he didn't slow his decent, he was going to be a big ball of flame in the ground. Assuming the Longsword was even sound enough to make it through the hot re-entry. He stopped screaming and hung his head, beaten. He touched his cameo again, and took a deep, shaking breath. "And I just finally got the guts to tell her I loved her. God, damnit, I hate this fucking ship." He pressed his hand against the window, looking towards the stars.

       A light flashed.

       He glanced down, thinking he'd imagined it. On his HUD, bright letters scrolled over the screen. "Reboot initialized."

       "I take it back! I take it back!!" He scrambled to bring the engines back online. One and three were dead, four was at half power, and his reverse thrusters were cutting in and out. It would take a miracle to land the bird in one piece. "One miracle, that's all I ask, just the one! I'll say prayers at night, I'll go to church, and I'll even name my kids after the saints! Just one!" He grabbed the throttle, and pulled back. The thrusters died in a flash of fire, and the ship shuddered like a dying animal. Engine four powered up painstakingly slowly, holding at seventy-seven percent. Jhonan sent out a distress beacon as an afterthought, and then everything else faded away. His world became the dying ship and the ground screaming up at him.

       Master Sergeant Demitri Taylor stared at the map on the table in front of him, scanning the two-dimensional field for any tactical advantage. He ignored the Private standing at attention for two full minutes before raising serious brown eyes from the satellite image. "Private Wilson, do you have something to report?"

       "Sir, yes sir. Communications received a distress signal about thirty kilometers south, southeast of our position. Looks like one of our boys in the space battle made an emergency crash landing." Sergeant Taylor glanced down at his map again, tapping his fingers in rapid succession. The area on the map was clear of enemy contacts as of fifteen minutes ago, but a survivor wouldn't last long if overrun by Covenant forces. He nodded, brushing a length of overgrown black hair out of his eyes. They had been in this system for far too long already. It was only Fortune's favor that the humans still held their ground.

       "Report to Corporal Padilla and tell him I want him and four men to scout the area. If the pilot is alive, get him back here in one piece. I'd like a little intel on how they're doing upstairs. Dismissed." Wilson gave a sharp salute and walked off, a little more spring in his step. I miss having that kind of enthusiasm.

       "Corporal Padilla, sir?" Private Wilson stepped up, eyes gleaming. Padilla raised an eyebrow.

       "I guess he wants us out there after all?" He stood up from the weapon crate he was using as a seat and cracked his back.

       "Yes Sir."

       "Alright, grab Jackals, Maine, Wilson and Roe." He slung a BR55 Rifle over his shoulder and walked towards one of the warthogs. "And be quick about it."

       Ten minutes later the ODSTs were underway, the Warthogs flying over the uneven ground. PFC Roe, driving one of the army vehicles, shot a grin to Wilson in shotgun. "Hey Tom, you see those new ATVs the Spartans are driving? Man, I'd kill for one of them."

       "No shit, those things are beautiful. When do you think they'll make 'em standard issue?"

       PFC Kyle Wilson cracked up, hanging onto the Warthog's gauss cannon like his life depended on it. "Never, if they see what a bad driver Dave is. My teeth are about to rattle out of my fucking head here."

       "Oh, shut up. Padilla's giving me the evil eye." A bounce nearly tossed them out of their seats, and Wilson grabbed the door handle tightly.

       "That's it, next time I drive."

       "Like hell! Not till you outrank me, Private."

       "Fuck you, sir!"

       Kyle chimed in as he got his footing back. "Don't forget, Dave, he's the Captain!"

       "Nicknames garnered from alcoholic binges don't apply." Another jolt interrupted their laughter, and Corporal Padilla opened the com.

       "Less chat, more driving, Marines. We're coming up on position."

       "Holy shit! You see that path cut through the trees? I doubt anyone survived that." Caleb pointed his warthog's machine gun at the floral carnage as both vehicles slowed to a stop. Alex Maine opened a com channel back to their base, muttering for a few moments before swinging out of the warthog's passenger seat.

       "Home base says this area is still clear." He set the com equipment down, and checked across all the channels. "No Covie signals either. We're alone out here, unless our pilot survived."

       "All right. PFC Maine, keep your ear to the tracks. Jackals, PFC Wilson, you're with me. PFC Roe, you and Private Wilson scout the area, I don't need anyone sneaking up on us. Damn, it's just my luck to get stuck with two Wilsons in the same squad."

       "Sir, yes sir." Roe and Wilson saluted, and Padilla snapped one back. He headed off down the track with two marines on his heels. The swath of destruction to the trees quickly turned to a deep brown cut in the ground, still smoking around the downed spacecraft.

       "Longsword Interceptor. Shit, I love these things. Lost most of her tail, though, fuselage is FUBAR." Caleb kept his gun pointed at the ship, but surveyed it as close as he dared. "Pilot was smart; the fuel cage has been dumped. The most common emergency-landing fuck-up is not dropping the cage. Hits the ground, and 'BOOM' goodnight."

       "Well, you're just the font of useless information today, aren'cha?" Kyle grinned. "If you ask me, you should've been a pilot."

       "I wanted to. I was too tall. And I suck at math. …I found our pilot." Caleb knelt in the brush beside the smoking Longsword, over the body that had apparently crawled there. "Still breathing. Lucky bastard doesn't have more than a few scratches." He rolled the pilot over, and pulled off his helmet.

       "Man, he's just a kid still." Wilson glanced ahead to Padilla. "I guess we carry him back, then."

       "Hold off a moment, Marine. Jackals, these things have a black box?"

       "Yeah. The kid is holding it." Caleb grinned. "Told you he was smart."

       "Okay, pick him up." Padilla opened a com to Maine. "Radio base, tell them we've got a live one. Have the medics ready."

       "Pretty necklace." Kyle tapped the white impression set in lacy silver.

       "It's a cameo. Typically worn during the Renaissance, and even more so the Victorian era. Came back into popularity about thirty years ago." Caleb blinked at Kyle. "What?"

       "Dude, are you gay?" He raised an eyebrow sharply.

       "What? No, idiot. Just because I'm smarter than you does not make me gay."

       "It's okay if you are, man, I have a cousin who's gay. It's no big deal."

       "I'm telling you, I'm not gay! What do you have a crush on me or something?"

       "What? No! I'm just saying…"

       "Enough, you two." The ODSTs stopped laughing as Padilla frowned at them. He started forward again, and after a moment of silence, added, "You're both gay." The laughter ensued till long after they reached the Warthogs.

       Jhonan woke to the smell of coffee and the taste of biofoam. He blinked grit out of his eyes and sat up, gasping at the pain in his chest his shirt had been removed, but whoever had patched him up had left his good luck charm around his neck. I live! He grinned and kissed the charm reverently, before looking around the medical tent. A woman was packing medical gear up, and Jhonan's eyes widened more than he thought possible. The woman was helmetless and wearing plastic gloves, but the rest of her was encased in matte black and iridescent green. Black eyebrows arched over pretty hazel eyes.

       "I see our lucky pilot wakes. How are you feeling?" She had the most charming smile he'd ever seen on a Spartan. In fact, it was the only smile he'd ever seen on a Spartan.

       "Alive. My chest hurts." She nodded; checking the bandages to make sure no blood was seeping through.

       "You took a piece of shrapnel through your rib cage. It could have been considerably worse. You probably won't even scar if you limit your activity for a few days."

       "I didn't know the Spartans had doctors." She laughed, a low, easy laugh that was as easy on the ears as the sound of waves on a beach. Her bedside manner was phenomenal considering the usual anti-social behavior of the Spartans.

       "We don't have any others, just me. I happened to be around patching up a colleague, and offered to take care of you too. It gets dull when battle dies down." She patted his shoulder lightly, and stood. "I'm going to let the commander know you're up." She walked to the door, and Jhonan swore under his breath. Unless the guard by the door was exceptionally short, the woman was well over six feet tall. Dark glanced around the tent again, this time noting the unconscious Spartan on the far side of the room. The man had dirty blond stubble on his head and face, and the entire right leg armor was removed. His chest piece was also set aside, and he had many more bandages than the ones Jhonan was now sporting. The machines he was hooked up to were giving back steady readings.

       A man entered the tent, stern, with a face that bore more wisdom than years. Between haggard eyes and a five-o-clock shadow, Jhonan would have bet anything this was the commander. They always look so tired. The man sat at the edge of the bed calmly, and studied him for a moment before speaking. "I am Master Sergeant Demitri Taylor. You are Warrant Officer Jhonan Dark?"

       "Yes sir."

       "You crashed your ship into this planet fifteen hours ago. I take it you'd like to know how the space battle is going?"

       "If you can tell me, sir, then yes." Jhonan fought the urge to scratch at his wound, which was already becoming itchy.

       "As of three hours ago, the Covenant forces in orbit retreated to the far side of the system. Their ground troops are digging in, but have ceased actively attacking our position. It's a stalemate right now." He softened his tone. "I regret to inform you that most of your squad didn't make it. Your squad leader and Warrant Officer Kenneth Nolan were the only survivors besides yourself." Jhonan closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. Something deeper than the flesh wound hurt. Scenes from the night before replayed over and over, the squad's last night together.

       "When…when can I get back to orbit?"

       "I'm afraid you're stuck with us for a while. We're expecting reinforcements any moment, but until the situation upstairs is resolved no one is getting evacuated without damn good reason."

       "I have a damn good reason. I've got Covenant to kill up there." He knew he wasn't being respectful, but the pain in his chest was overwhelming.

       "They wouldn't let you pilot a Pelican right now, let alone a Longsword. I know it's difficult, but take it easy." He stood and sighed. "You have your life, not many people can say that. Be thankful." Jhonan stared resolutely ahead till the Sergeant left.

       "Of course not. The dead ones don't talk." He glanced around, and scowled. "Sit tight my ass." He stood up, his chest flaring hot and painful, and he managed to pull his shirt on before taking a break. Once he got his breath back he stood, and started towards the door of the tent. A woman was walking in at that moment, and he dropped back, surprised. It was another Spartan. He blinked, and tilted his head. Her helmet was in her hands, and she frowned back at him. Even with the thick boots she stood only an inch or so taller than him. "You're…kinda short for a Spartan."

       She rolled a pair of pale blue eyes. "Whatever." She brushed past him and sat by the injured Spartan, setting her hand over his. Jhonan paused, and exchanged a look with the door guard. His chances of escape were limited at the moment, and he sat back down on his cot.

       He sat waiting, but it seemed the pale woman was perfectly happy to ignore his presence all together. "Your doctor is really good." She glanced over, and blew a thick chunk of white hair out of her eyes.

       "Yeah. She's the best." She turned back to the injured man. More minutes passed.

       "You have a name, or something? They took my HUD." She sighed, irritated, and Jhonan's spirits rose a bit. Baiting women was always an interesting past time.

       "Spartan 292."

       "No rank?"

       "You hit your head, soldier?"

       "No." He frowned, and looked at his hands. "But I just found out my squad died in orbit and you are the only thing I've got to distract me from thinking about it." He managed to not choke on the words. She sighed again, and this time a bit of compassion appeared in her gaze. She was actually kind of pretty when the chip on her shoulder fell off.

       "I warn you, I've got the social graces of a Hunter. I blow stuff up really well, but I'm not much one for conversation." She smiled, a little, and pushed her shoulder-length hair back. "For the record, my rank is Chief Petty Officer."

       "Alright, Chief." She smiled at some private joke when he said that, and for a moment her eyes were far away. Whatever she was thinking of, it turned her face really soft and suddenly beautiful in spite of the scars that decorated it. When she returned from that dream-place, the steel returned to her gaze and she looked creepy again. "Can I ask a few questions?"

       "I'll only answer ones that aren't classified or personal."

       "Okay. Hmm…So why are you so short? I've seen a couple Spartans, and even the girls are huge."

       "Personal."

       "Okay…what are the purple things on your armor for?"

       "Classified."

       "Oh, come on Chief, are you going to answer anything?"

       "Pick better questions." She grinned. Now she was the one baiting him.

       "Fine! What is your favorite color?"

       "Violet." He expected that to be the end of it, but she got that far off look again. "The kind of violet that the morning sky turns when you're on a world with a yellow sun; the kind that burns off the dew and just makes you feel like you lived another night, and nothing can touch you."

       "That was actually kind of poetic." Jhonan grinned, as she rolled her eyes.

       "…Hals?…" The Spartan on the cot was struggling to sit up, and the woman immediately turned her concern and attention to him.

       "Chill, Chris, you're going to undo all of Kaina's hard work." She pushed his shoulders back down, and the man grinned up at her.

       "Halley, you growing out your hair for once? Looks nice." He relaxed, and she smiled down at him with such a loving expression that it seemed a totally different person had taken up that spot a moment earlier.

       "Nah, I just can't find a barber worth shit." She checked his bandages, tsking softly. "Got your chest all messed up again?"

       "Damn brutes and their grenade launchers. Not as bad as you, though. I heard about the helmet thing." He laughed, coughing in pain, and the white haired Spartan rolled her eyes; again, it was a completely different expression from the one Jhonan had seen earlier.

       "I'm never going to live that down."

       "Not while there's a Spartan alive to bust you for it. Nice armor upgrade. Nile sent us a message talking about it. How's it holding up in combat?"

       "Not bad. Nile is here too, but he's helping set up camp right now." The Spartan on the table glanced over, and raised an eyebrow.

       "We got company?"

       "You think you're the only guy in this camp to get hurt? That's just like you, it's 'all about Chris.'" She laughed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "Now get some sleep. You'll heal up faster that way." She sat there until he shut his eyes again. When she stood up, she turned to Jhonan, and gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry about your squad. I know how it feels." She started to leave, and he stopped her with a cough.

       "You really worry about them, don't ya, Chief."

       She smiled back, and her eyes glittered. "Of course. They're my family." She left the tent quietly, and Jhonan fell back against the pillows. Spartans were like regular people, he decided, just a hell of a lot more intense.

       Master Sergeant Taylor glanced at the report that Command sent down, blood running cold in his veins. The Covenant forces were amassing for another strike, and their ground troops were already on the move. He took a deep breath and planned out his strategy again, looking for kinks. Finding none, he called over Private Wilson. "Go get me the Spartans. I have a job for them to do."

       "I most certainly will NOT stay here!" Miira fumed, but the Arbiter kept his expression calm, and his eyes locked on her. "I do not care if these 'artifacts' will be the salvation of the Sangheili. I want to stay by your side, learning how to be a better warrior."

       "Miira," she shivered at the sound of her name and turned her back to him, hands clenching into fists. "I did not ask. I told you. You will stay here and listen to what Urza has to teach, and I will go and find what I can of these strange crystals. If we can eradicate disease, or make perfect Slipspace engines, the Sangheili will be able to throw off our dependence on the Covenant for good. These 'artifacts' may hold that key."

       "If you eradicate disease, more warriors will survive to harm each other! If we have perfect engines, we will litter the universe like the humans! Do you not see? A perfect society breeds imbalance, and destruction! Look at the Forerunners. With all their technology and science, where are they now?"

       "I do not expect universal perfection. But it is true, the Jiralhanae are beginning to harm our people outside the reach of the Covenant. I need to know what the crystals do, and we must keep them from the hands of the Brutes. And," he stepped in closer to Miira, grabbed her shoulder and pivoted her to face him. Their helmets bumped. "I need to know what Urza intends to do with them. I cannot entrust this to anyone else. He is a fool; he will think your naïveté is all encompassing. I know better. There is none who can better infiltrate the secret heart of my closest friend and enemy than you."

       "Come back for me." It was almost a whisper; she hung her head and looked away, hating her weakness. Hating that she was a female.

       "If I have to fight through fire and ice and climb the corpses of all Jiralhanae in my path, I will still come back for you. I swear it on what is left of my honor." He stepped back and nodded, and she nodded back, respectfully. He turned and left the room in a rush, not looking back, and Miira sat on a large containment unit in frustration. She looked in the direction of the door he'd passed through, and made the gesture for luck. It was childish, but everyone was always calling her a child, for once she felt entitled.

       "You had better."

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Eight: Every Kind Of Day
Date: 3 December 2005, 12:42 am

             Chapter Eight: Every Kind Of Day

       Private First Class Alex Maine lit the last cigarette he ever intended to smoke, watching the cherry glow with the same bored fascination he paid the radio clipped to one ear. Every campaign he was in he intended to quit, and every campaign he gave into temptation and enjoyed the contraband cigarettes that Echo Company was famous for finding. He lounged against a weapons crate that had been discarded during their first scramble to obtain this little chunk of high ground, content to let the bustle of camp pass him by. The Spartan's backup had touched down a short while ago, and while Alex was not a cowardly man, as long as that hunter in MJOLNIR armor was parading around he'd just as soon stick behind cover. He took a long, slow drag, and just past the red glimmer he could see the pilot they had rescued earlier sneaking out of the back of the medical tent. Hmm, he's our kind of boy alright.

       Maine waved the injured pilot over with his free hand, and offered a half-hearted smile at the suspicious glance he got back. "Shit, kid, I'm not gonna tell anyone you got out. I'd probably crawl out of there even if my guts were trailing behind me." He took another drag, and coughed into his hand slightly.

       "Those things will kill you, ya know." Dark limped over, and took a seat against another crate facing the ODST. Maine waved his hand dismissively.

       "Only if the covies don't kill me first. Who wants their diaper years, anyway? I'd rather hack out my lungs at fifty than have my grandkids lock me in a home at ninety." Jhonan grinned, scratching at the stubble on the side of his head.

       "You have kids?"

       "One that I know of."

       "You like kids?"

       "When I don't have to deal with them, sure, they're great." He looked at his cigarette, as if searching for the meaning of life in its cancerous smoke. Finding nothing, he glanced back up at the pilot. "So, what's your name?"

       "Jhonan Dark." He offered his hand, and almost as an afterthought the marine sat forward and shook it.

       "Alex Maine. Private First Class or something. Not sure who outranks who when you mix fliers and shooters." He finished the cigarette and rubbed it out on the weapons crate. "Nice landing, by the way."

       "Thanks." Jhonan sighed, frowned, and stared back into the camp. One hand idly played with the laces of his right boot. "I didn't really see it that way. Everything just turned into life or death up there. I'm less surprised I made it and more surprised I didn't shit myself."

       Alex gave his first genuine smile in weeks with a shake of his head. "A modest pilot? It's a cold day in hell, it is." He reached into his coat pocket and tapped another "last cigarette" out of the box. He lit it up, and offered the box to Jhonan.

       "No thanks. Can't smoke in space. I'd rather not get hooked on anything I can't readily have." Alex shrugged and put the box away.

       "I hate space. Too cold, to empty. I'd rather take a bullet to the head on the ground than life forever on a ship."

       Jhonan brightened a bit to the conversation. "For me it's the other way around. I feel claustrophobic on the ground. There's no room to really move…and I can't stand any situation in a two dimensional environment. Left, right, forward, and back…Screw this shit, where's my up/down?" Alex took a drag and smiled.

       "Played a lot of flight simulation vids as a kid, I bet."

       "Oh, hell yeah. Full VR Illumitari one, two, three and four." He scowled. "Three sucked though. I hate cliffhanger endings."

       "You're in the wrong world, kid." Alex looked up, and waved at another marine passing by. The man stopped, glanced around, and dropped down into what was becoming almost a fort.

       "Yo, Maine, what's up. I though you were done with those things?"

       "What the hell, Caleb; is the surgeon general paying our camp a visit or something? This is the third time I've gotten shit for smoking today alone." He frowned at the cigarette in his hand. "This is all your fault."

       "Oh sure, blame the cancer stick, not your willpower. You gonna introduce me, here?"

       "I swear, you are such a woman sometimes. Caleb, this is Jhonan Dark; Jhonan, this is Caleb Jackals. Who we'd probably think was gay if he wasn't sleeping with Crissa. Who is, by the way, one fine piece of ass." He held out a fist, and Caleb knocked his to it.

       "I'll 'Hoo-rah' to that any day." He glanced at the pilot. "Sorry about your squad, mate. I was there when the Sarge got the news. Bum luck."

       "Yeah, it sucks." Jhonan worked to untangle the mess he'd made of his bootlaces.

       "Alex here knows what you're going through. You should talk it out. Do you good." Alex smacked his hand to his forehead.

       "Good god, 'talk it out?' Who are you?"

       Caleb grinned back. "I'm smarter then you, I'm a nicer guy then you, I'm more attractive than you, and I'm sleeping with the hottest female ODST on the planet. Women love a 'sensitive' man. Does that answer your question?"

       "No. Not by a long shot, Dr. Phil."

       Jhonan cleared his throat. "Who?"

       "Dr. Phil. He was some nice-guy psychologist talk-show host from the pre-slipspace era. Wrote some good stuff." Caleb smiled at the pilot, and Alex shot his eyes heavenward.

       "Thank you, oh oracle of useless trivia." He sighed heavily, and took a hard drag on the cigarette. "I changed my mind, I'm not blaming these for my addiction, I'm blaming you."

       Caleb glanced back into camp and stood up, brushing dirt off his ass. "Blame whoever you want. I see a woman in distress."

       "That woman wouldn't be in distress if you stuffed her in a bag loaded with rocks and dropped her in the ocean." He glanced at the tanned blond surfer-looking woman wrangling with a warthog engine. "Naked."

       "Says you. See ya." Caleb sauntered off, and Alex shook his head again, finishing his second smoke with a vengeance. Jhonan finally succeeded with his laces, and retied his shoes. He spoke without looking up.

       "You lost a squad too?"

       The pause stretched for a good length of time before Maine answered. "Two years ago. Some hotshot lieutenant called in the wrong coordinates to their bombers and dropped a firestorm on our camp. Lost most of Jericho Company in that one stupid incident of friendly fire." He put the cigarette out against the palm of his hand, and Dark winced as he watched. "So yeah, I know how you feel." He tapped the radio in his ear, and frowned at Jhonan. "Sarge wants to talk to you. Says there's someone here to see you."

       "Uh, okay." He stood, and glanced around for a few seconds. He coughed and shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "Err…Alex? Thanks."

       "No prob, Dark." He watched the pilot walk off, and shook his head. Too many dead kids in this war.

       Lieutenant First Class Jonah Matthieson stood calmly at ease in the Master Sergeant's tent, hands clasped behind his back and a rogue smile on his lips. The two men were of an age; although Matthieson had a lighthearted quality about him that the dark haired Taylor lacked that took a few years off his face. Maps were strewn about the table; satellite imagery of the terrain showed a large contingent of Covenant ground troops hunkered down to the north. ONI suggested one of their recently discovered artifacts might be located in the spot, and Demitri was focused on the table, trying to put together a strategy that would combine the offensive capabilities of the Spartans currently under his command and the defensive power of his ODSTs. Should the structure under the covenant camp be infiltrated, their retaliation on the humans would be swift.

       Jonah scanned Taylor's CSV absentmindedly on the mini HUD that covered his right eye; discretion was valued by most ONI operatives and he was no exception to the rule. While he was interested to know what he could about the marine personnel around him, he'd rather no one knew he was a so-called ONI "spook." Taylor's history was spotless; a genius for tactics coupled with an excellent physique made the man a legend amongst his peers. He'd been leading Echo Company for much of his long career, passing up several promotion opportunities to stay with his men. There was a small red flag next to his name, and Matthieson selected it; surprised to find the information was actually outside his own clearance. It was marked under Section Three's authority, but before he could probe deeper, light filled the room as someone lifted the tent flap. He closed the window on his screen as Warrant Officer Dark entered the tent with a suspicious glare and a slight limp. The Pilot immediately saluted the Lieutenant and the Sergeant, the latter waving off-handedly.

       "At ease." He glanced up, and nodded to Matthieson. "He's all yours, Lieutenant."

       "Well than. You're looking rather worse for the wear, Warrant Officer Dark."

       "Yes, Sir."

       "I take it the Darkfire is considered 'FUBAR,' as it were?"

       "Sir, unfortunately, yes. Sir."

       "Walk with me, Dark." He exited the tent, the pilot on his heels, and once they were out of the temporary structure, he shot the younger man a rueful smile. "I'm really sorry about you ship. I know how much you cared about her."

       Much of the professionalism dropped away from the pilot, as he nodded sadly. "Yeah, tell me about it. She got me down here alive, though."

       "I do have one good piece of news for you, however. In the time since we first contacted Taylor we did a full sweep of the battlefield, and we found Camelot in her jettisoned cockpit, still alive."

       Jhonan sucked his breath in with a grin. "Tam made it?" The thought of the pale, slender brunette with her sad brown eyes and patient nature sent a jolt of joy through Jhonan that was almost enough for him to hug the Lieutenant. A shred of his professionalism still held, though.

       "She's better off then you, technically. Healthier anyway. Oh, and Mom says hello."

       Jhonan blinked in surprise at his half-brother. "You talked to Mom? She and the new guy still living on Earth?"

       "Yeah, still there. She's doing pretty well, although since that attack on Earth three years ago she's been pretty nervous. She asked me to leave the Navy. Again. And she'll probably ask you too. Again." He shook his head and laughed, scratching at the stubble on the side of his head. "You know, I had to take the job of bringing the Spartan's Dropship down to see you. You get to fly Longswords, and I get stuck on ferry duty. You'd better appreciate it."

       "Pah. You're just doing your job. I'm sure you've got some other mission down here."

       "Don't start. The second someone points out I'm ONI I start getting odd looks." Jhonan grinned.

       "So shouting it would be a bad thing? Sir." He snickered as his brother rolled his eyes.

       "It is if you ever want to come off medical leave." He started to yawn, and froze. "Did you see that?"

       "See what?"

       "Something just moved on the edge of camp." He clicked his radio on. "Spartans, I need you in the center of camp ASAP." He looked at Jhonan, fully military again. "Go get to cover. NOW." He radioed the Private on com duty, informing his of the situation, and people started moving hurriedly about.

       An almost human-sized figure in MJOLNIR jogged up, a full sized Spartan at it's back. "Sir, Spartan Two-Nine-Two, reporting for orders." The voice was feminine, but edged in steel.

       "I think we're about to get company." The bigger Spartan lifted their head, and after a pause, shook it.

       "Nothing on thermals, unless it's Elites in camo, we're alone." The voice was masculine, and far more at ease than the petite, intense Chief.

       "Elites in…hold that thought." She grabbed Matthieson and shoved him behind her, tossing a grenade off her hip, raising a pistol, and shooting it overhead. People hit the dirt with shouts of confusion, but the rain of shrapnel that followed the ear-splitting explosion lit up a pair of silver tinged shields sneaking towards the Spartans. They froze, and one darted forward. As it faded from view Halley met it's charge halfway, violet streaks telegraphing the movement as she used the Mark Seven Point Five's levitation drive as a boost. She brought her right fist around, and there was a crunching sound as she slammed the Elite's helmet from that side. The warrior dropped, but it's momentum knocked the Spartan down with it. Paul lifted his pistol in the same motion and fired at the invisible Elite, but the second shot missed as it scrambled to the left and vanished.

       "Eyes on the dirt," he shot to Kaina as she stepped up behind him, a battle rifle in her hands. She nodded, and crouched, looking for a trace. Halley muttered across the personal com, sitting up. Marines were darting about for cover, weapons raised, and one man gave a helpless screech as he was thrown from his cover with the hissing sound of a Plasma Sword. Kaina opened fire in that direction, and Paul followed suit with both pistols blazing. The Elite screamed in pain as it's shields dropped, and it ducked for the same cover the ODST had been using. Several more shots rang out from the marines, and the telltale cry of the creature dying rose from behind the shield.

       In the center of the camp, Halley made a sound halfway between a choke and a shout; a third Elite shimmered into existence as it grabbed her around the neck. She struggled with it and landed a few punches, her firearm useless in the grapple. The Elite became fully visible as she grabbed the tiny shield slot in the center of it's chest and ripped the camouflage generator out with uncanny precision. It paused in the assault as a hand tapped its shoulder. It glanced back curiously, and all it's mandibles fell open in the universal sign of shock. The monster in MJOLNIR behind it actually stood several centimeters taller than it, and he reached out without hurry and grabbed the Elite's head. A quick jerk and the neck snapped cleanly, it's hands falling from the smaller Spartan. Nile dropped the corpse into the dirt, and tilted his head a fraction. "You all right, Chief?"

       "Why," she muttered on their private com setting, "do they always feel the need to choke me?"

       "Weakest spot on the armor?" Kaina offered, still scanning the terrain.

       "The question was rhetorical."

       "But there is an answer; making it not rhetorical."

       "It's still rhetorical, because while there is an answer, the answer is unnecessary for the conversation."

       "Think that's it for them?"

       "No…for some reason they always attack in even numbers." Even as Halley finished the statement, a loud pop rang out, and the Elite creeping up behind Paul collapsed into the dirt. All four Spartans turned in surprise to see Sergeant Demitri standing there, as composed as if he was simply out for an evening stroll. There was a smoking pistol in his hand, and a slightly raised eyebrow accented that usual calm frown. Paul whistled on the Spartan's private channel, impressed.

       "Damn, he just killed an Elite with one shot to the back of the head. Cleanest shot I've seen since we lost Kim."

       "Eyes open, girls and boys. That might have been the last one, but no guarantees." Halley frowned as Kaina walked to the injured ODST, checking his vitals and nodding to herself.

       "I can have him patched up enough to be moved if you give me five minutes."

       "You sure?"

       "I never lose a patient, only my patience."

       "You've got five, then."

       The Master Sergeant watched the Spartans with some interest, noting their hand gestures and body language; it intrigued him how effective a team they made. Already two Spartans patrolled for other contacts, their medic went to work on the marine, and the small Chief walked his way. She stopped and stood calmly at attention; awaiting orders. "I can see our time here is up. Spartans, when you are done met me in my tent; I have a special assignment for you. Corporal Padilla, you know the plan, straighten the boys up." Taylor walked back to the room he came from, and in moments he was joined by the four Spartans, one of which was so tall he had to stoop to fit in the tent.

       "Spartan One-Five-Six reporting for duty, sir." The soft voice that came from the doorway was linked to a pale man with bandages covering his chest, and a battered suit of MJOLNIR that accented an already significant limp.

       "Spartan One-Five-Six, you are in no condition to be running back out on the battlefield."

       "I apologize, sir, but the medical officer on duty has final say over my 'condition.'" Chris glanced at Kaina, who nodded.

       "Well, than, Doctor?" Demitri's voice took a hard edge; he wasn't fond of letting doctors of any caliber decide to send a man back out onto the field. He had a feeling that might be the case here. Kaina looked the injured Spartan over, deep in thought. After a moment, she nodded.

       "If you were a marine, I'd say a minimum of three weeks bed rest. As it is," She cocked the shotgun she'd picked up on her way into the tent, and tossed it to Chris, "you're a Spartan. You're fixed up enough for active duty; just take it easy when you can." He caught the weapon, gave a slight smile, and glanced at Demitri for further confimation.

       "I have to trust your judgment, I suppose. No one knows the limitations of the Spartans better that the Spartan's themselves."

       "Sir. Thank you, sir," Chris said with feeling.

       "Sir, with your permission, I'd like to send Spartans One-Five-Six and Two-Seven-Three to go get him suited back up. I'll keep my com open so they can still hear the briefing." Demitri nodded, and Chris and Paul left the tent.

       "What I need done sounds simple, but our intel is lacking presently. The structure that the Covenant are holed up in is about seventy kilometers north of our position. Their camp surrounds the building on all sides but one; the east face of the building is overlooking a cliff." Halley shuddered unconsciously. "There is a sizeable ledge about ten meters down that could easily support your weight, and at about the middle of the structure there is some sort of doorway that is electronically locked. I am to understand you have a computer intrusion specialist in your group?"

       "Yes sir." Halley replied. She waited a moment, before curiosity kicked in. "Sir? How is it that you have this intel on the precipice? I wouldn't imagine satellite images could quite convey quite that much."

       Taylor gave a slightly impressed expression that resembled a smile. "So you really are more than just machines." He couldn't quite be sure, but the diminutive and most animated of the Spartans seemed to bristle slightly at his words. "This isn't to be repeated around camp, but one of my men is an undercover Black Spec Ops agent that I 'borrowed' for this operation. He's been in and out of their encampment for the last day or so, gathering what information he can."

       "So they finally perfected the invisibility shielding for non-augmented personnel?" Halley fingered the chip stolen from the Elite's armor; it probably still had enough charge left to give her two minutes or so of camouflage. Typically when an Elite perished, the chip dumped completely. Partially charged ones were a rare enough prize as it was, a full one was almost unheard of. Years of work and Dr. Halsey still hadn't perfected the art of refilling a depleted one, similar to the plasma weapons Covenant favored. She had, at least, thought to include a socket in the MJOLNIR armor that could utilize a chip located in the field. The suit drew too hard on the temporary upgrade, however; the maximum life of the invisibility on a Spartan capped out at five minutes or less, regardless of how pristine it's original condition. Still, they occasionally came in handy.

       "For extreme short term, yes. Mostly Shade is simply using stealth techniques and regular camouflage. He was stuck at the door, however, and as effective as the man is and sneaking around, he pales in comparison to the damage a team of Spartans can accomplish with limited means and intel. Your biggest obstacle after reaching the cliff ledge is going to be banshees. If they catch wind of you down there, they'll alert the entire camp. For that I have Jhonan Dark and Lieutenant Matthieson; I'll have them running a diversion in the Pelican Dropship you came down in." There was a subtle glance from Halley in the direction of the biggest Spartan at his words; the Spartan's new dropship was designed for their larger size, and he benefited the most. He remained stoic, however, and Taylor continued on. "Both men are excellent pilots, I'm sure your ship will be fine. In the meantime, I'm going to set my men up here," he pointed to a spot on the map, "and have them lay an ambush for the covenant heading down towards us. As soon as they know you've got the artifact, assuming you succeed, their usual tactics will bring them straight through this valley to get to us and get their item back. If you succeed without the camp knowing your exit way, head to this area where the ledge rejoins the top of the cliff. I will have Jhonan and Matthieson set up your LZ there as long as they are still intact enough to do so."

       Halley nodded. "And if they aren't?"

       "If I lose radio contact with them I'll send out a couple of men with warthogs to meet you there. You may need to buckle down for a while if that's the case. Regardless of what happens to the ambush point, someone will get you out. ONI has too much interest in these forerunner artifacts to leave you out here alone." Halley nodded, suddenly wondering if the Resplendent's course to Obsidan almost a year ago had gone through the Diphen system as part of a deliberate plan by ONI to check up on the ship and it's covert mission stationed there. It certainly bore consideration. "Get your team underway, Chief. Dismissed."

       "All right, we have our orders people, gear up and fall out. Blue Four, what's your armor's status?" Their chain of command was so rehearsed, she didn't even need to assign numbers anymore, the Spartans automatically knew who was who.

       "Bent, dented and scorched. Shields are operational at eighty percent of normal, and I'm willing to bet the plating has been compromised, but I can compensate." Chris paused, and laughed a bit shakily. "I wish Aril was around; she'd have this thing running at two hundred percent in a heartbeat." Halley smiled, and it showed in her voice.

       "Aww, but she gets to repair a whole flagship in orbit today. You didn't actually think she was going to come down here when such a glorious opportunity was before her, did you?"

       "Oh, of course not."

       Halley worked to regain her impassive shield of command, but it just never came easy to her. Separating herself from the Spartans under her command was against her nature. How John managed it on a consistent basis was quite beyond her ken. "Alright, pack up everything we need…Blue One, grab all the explosives off our Dropship; if they must take it, we're going to utilize what's ours, at least."

       "Yes Sir," Paul responded with something sadly akin to glee at the mention of his specialty.

       "Blue Three, make sure the medics on hand here are prepped, only take what we really need." Kaina nodded. "Blue Two; weapons. Convert everything to point four-five caliber ammunition except for the S2 AM, that's already customized as it gets. I want us to be able to trade off the same kind of ammo while we're in there. See if there are any silenced weapons while you're at it, we might be able to keep this op quiet."

       "Yes, boss."

       Halley sighed. "Nile, you had the same training the rest of us did. I know you hate formality, but for the sake of the people around us, try to keep it official?"

       "Sorry, sir. Yes, sir."

       "Good. Fall out!"

       Miira stood in the lofty library the Teacher had put together over the years; its walls of electronically sorted information gleamed with a fresh cleaning. The room was utterly devoid of dust, and equally devoid of interest for the young warrior. Urza was bent over a thin sheet of glass that scrolled words along its length. It had several chips out of the gleaming surface, and a scorch mark obscured much of the right side. The words were in the language of the Prophets; a prize stolen from their homeworld in the same attack that had ostracized the once glorified Urza Hostominee from the Covenant. Unfortunately, while the scroll detailed the purpose and properties of the so-called "Holy Lights" the information was fragmented and untranslatable by computers. The limited, dysfunctional AIs that operated within the Covenant were unusable by the Heretic Leader, even if they had been able to make sense of the document. Instead, Urza was working to translate it manually, and working with inadequate successes.

       "So you see on this image, the artifacts were intended to combat the scourges of the Forerunners. Each served an individual purpose. Alas, the part revealing what each actually did is long lost." Urza looked up at Miira and beckoned her over.

       "Why does it say 'Iin partuni re selgarath?' What is the point in mentioning the artifact's great powers if it is only going to add that they cannot utilize them without divine intervention? Far too much of this is religious iconography." Urza snapped his head up, jaws falling partly open.

       "You can read the language of the Prophets?"

       Miira hissed, amused. "I am born of one of the highest families. I was trained from my first attainment of sentience to be the most effective servant of the Covenant possible. The Arbiter saved me from that idiotic life of worthless servitude when he took me as an apprentice."

       "Indeed. What more of this tablet can you make out?" She leaned over, and worked to piece together the religious rhetoric and nonsensical fragments of data into actual words. Her years of training for the machinations of the royal families kicked in, and no expression or body language betrayed the revelation she gleaned.

       "Not a thing but garbage. Reading this is a colossal waste of good time." She added just enough sullen youth to her tone to grate on the older Sangheili's nerves. "I am going to go change the energy cores in my blades. I recommend you search for a less profligate pursuit." She turned and marched off, leaving the annoyed teacher to his musings. She passed a turn in the hall and took off at full speed for her chambers. She halted with a slight skid as she came upon a pack of Sangheili Elites ganging up on one small Unggoy who was trying futilely to back away. The warriors were close to her own age, and utterly disrespectful of the small creatures who's purpose it was to die in waves before the onslaught of humans. She had always felt differently; while cowardly by nature, the Unggoy had the tenacity to die in the aforementioned waves, al for the sake of whatever cause they believed in. Miira felt a true leader respected even the least of his followers. This is just what I need; another impediment to my plan.

       "I have always wondered how long an Unggoy could survive without methane…" The biggest of the pack chortled and leaned in towards the quivering creature. Miira took two large steps and intercepted his intimidation with a flat, preoccupied look.

       "Go find a worthy adversary to ridicule, fool. Unless you have so little honor that you feel the need to find a cowardly Unggoy to prove your prowess against." His face turned a lurid purple, and he clenched his hands into fists. "Or better yet, find a shield-less Kig-yar, I have heard that they will quake before a weakling."

       He screamed in fury. "Challenge issued, female scum!" Before he could even reach for the plasma rifle at his hip, her right hand blade sprung into brilliant life.

       "Challenge accepted." She ran him through almost casually; his peers danced back several paces in shock. As violet blood poured over her hand and burned on her blade, he looked down in utter disbelief. "I was raised a warrior Royal, idiot. For my status, and that alone, do you die with some semblance of honor." She opened her mandibles with a ferocious growl, and brought the blade out of his stomach with a twist and jammed it through his throat, bending him backwards and pinning his body to the floor in that position. Miira lifted her head slowly, her eyes blazed and the rainbow patterning on her skin shifted in the light of the gory sword. Terror was etched into the faces of the young Elites. "To the next of you who think the Unggoy are unworthy of the Teacher's employ, I say this. You will die for any action against them. On the blood of your pack mate, I so swear." She deactivated the sword with a flick of her wrist, and the twitching corpse dropped free to the deck. She turned her back to them, greatly daring, and looked at the Unggoy who looked oddly thrilled by the whole thing.

       "Lady Miira, General Miira; Tehgli and his broodmates will remember your name! We owe you a boon, only ask, great one." She tilted her head, amused, and shook it.

       "No needs at this time, little one." He nodded and bowed again. He backed off several paces before he turned and darted down the hall with their bizarre, waddling run. The pack of Sangheili retrieved their companion's remains and departed without incident. Alone in the hall, Miira gave herself a congratulatory smile and continued without hurry to her chamber. Once there, she settled into the hammock hanging in the back of the room. She couldn't imagine how some races could lie on a flat, unmoving surface. She let one leg dangle down as she keyed her personal pass code into the hand-held communications device that the Arbiter had given her. She waited a moment for the holograph recorder to hum into active mode, and cleared her throat. In stilted, imperfect form, she spoke the human language into the recorder. "We must meet in haste. Message private." She had learned the basics of their speech from the Arbiter for cases just like this one. She halted the recording, and set it to send the transmission on a high frequency psuedo-slipstream beacon. It would take the small device the better part of an hour to build up enough charge to send it, but it would send nonetheless. The Arbiter would most likely receive it within a week. Content that her duty was done, Miira relaxed and changed the power packs as she said she would.

       It was as her father always said, "The key to a perfect lie it to wrap it in the truth." Of course, he also thought females were useless, but Miira picked and chose what advice she used. And now here she was, on a covert mission for the Arbiter. Already she had made progress. That it would please him brought her smile back, and she kicked the hammock into motion.

       It had been a really good day.

       The five Spartans that crept along the ledge under the covenant camp almost uniformly held their breath. The rationale that one could make less sound when not breathing was flawed; but when nerves were stung as high as this, even small comforts were still comforts. They could hear the whine of the Pelican's engines as it departed, quickly followed by a Doppler shift scream as the Banshees raced in pursuit directly over the heads of the hidden Spartans. As soon as all the vehicles were out of view, the Spartans resumed their trail. Halley had point, but after a moment Paul caught up with her and tapped her shoulder. He pointed to her, then made the "Okay" gesture with his fingers, then lifted his palm up to shoulder height. She nodded and made the "Okay" sign back. She drew a smile on her faceplate and clapped his shoulder, a clear "Thanks for asking." He dropped back again. He knew from her body language that she was still nervous about the height, but she was a Spartan. She'd get over the fear.

       The door in the center of the ledge was a curved indent, silvery metal three meters high in the center and about three at it's base. The center of the door was the gleaming red aperture that locked the building. Halley knelt, and put her hand against it. She shook her head, and pulled a small socket out of her pouch, sliding it into the armor hear the base of her neck. She pulled a second one out and slid it into the "key" hole, twisting the segmented device to make a proper fit into the alien technology. After a moment, she tilted her head as signals raced through her brain, intuitively sending back a confirmation code. It took her only a few moments longer than a genuine AI with the same intrusion software as the one wetwired into her brain. She'd downloaded it accidentally from Cortana during their merge, and occasionally idly wondered what the blue AI had gotten out of the experiance. The door cracked open with a hiss, and she removed the plugs.

       Blue One headed in first, signing back "all clear," and the Spartans filed in quietly. After the door slid shut again, Blue Two knelt and ran a thick finger through the dust on he floor, holding it up for review. The Chief clicked her com on. "This place is fully shielded, I'm not picking up any more Covenant signals outside."

       "This much dust in a sterile environment? Something big as hell must have decayed in here." Blue Three opened her med kit and scooped some dust into a vial. "Can't hurt to check it out. This place isn't open to the outside; there's no reason for that much to be in a fully metal structure."

       "How long ago?" Halley was situated at wall that sat distinctive from the others.

       "If it's been completely dry down here, it's like mummification. This dust could be millions of years old, for all we know. Carbon dating will narrow that down; at least if the substance has any carbon."

       Halley ran her hand over the wall, and got hit by a flashback. Dr. Adalis was smiling down at her, and her head was splitting with pain. "There, there, sixteen. It's all over now. You're all fixed." He called out to an assistant, and Child-Halley looked to her left, where a prism and the remains of a memory-core processing unit lay discarded. Her thoughts were chaotically fast, but that prism…it glowed with an inner light, and something was whispering to her…the vision ended, and Halley let out a forgotten breath.

       "Chief, you okay?" Kaina sounded concerned, and Halley nodded.

       "I'm fine." She touched the wall again, and this time something previously unused in her mind turned over. The air popped away from her, and walls of light sprung up like holographic panes of glass in the space around her. The Spartans turned, concerned, but Halley waved them off. She tapped the wall to her right, and was astonished as the letters danced under her fingertips. "What the he—I can read this. Oh….my god…" Nile and Paul exchanged a look, Halley wasn't much one for religious oaths. "The dust...those poor people…" She let in a ragged breath. "They died here. A whole community of people died hiding from the flood down here. The Forerunners set off the Halos…" She let her hand drop, and Kaina stepped in as the holographs vanished.

       "Can you record that data?"

       "Not safely. It's terribly decayed. I got as much as I could." Her voice was still unsteady, but she shook her head and pulled herself together. "Alright, fan out. It's obvious the Covenant didn't get down this far, meaning the Artifact must be on the top levels."

       The Spartans moved on quietly, and though no one would admit it, every step through the dust felt almost like desecrating a tomb. No one was totally at ease anymore.

       Several minutes went by in the cockpit of the Pelican before Jhonan spoke up. "You really kinda suck as a pilot."

       Matthieson glared at him a moment, dodging the Banshees on their trail. "I'm not supposed to fully get away. We're running a diversion. Shut up and man the guns." His younger brother rolled his eyes and got a firing solution. He suddenly broke a grin.

       "Why didn't you tell me this bird had such big balls?"

       "AHEM."

       "I mean guns. Sir. Heh, you're recording our flight with that itty-bitty ONI camera, aren't you?"

       "Yes, it's called being professional. Shoot those banshees down, or I will get very unprofessional on your a—"

       Caleb lay flat on his stomach, watching the terrain with a sniper rifle on max zoom. As the first hints of Covenant progress came into sight, he radioed back and crept down the hill to where Echo Company was situated. He slid down next to Private Barrett Foster, and glanced at the man with one eyebrow cocked. The man's headphones were blaring even in spite of the dampeners built into them, and Caleb smacked his shoulder to get his attention. "You moron, the battle is about to start."

       "Okay."

       "Flip music is crap anyway, why do you listen to that nonsense?"

       "It calms me down before a battle."

       "Bar, it's loud guitars, fast drums, and guys screaming about how much they hate the world. That is not calming. That stuff is antiquated with good reason."

       "I tell you, it's going to come back into style. Every trend does."

       "Whatever. Got your guns, at least? Might have figured you'd leave them behind in favor of your headset." Barrett punched at him, and Caleb rolled out of the way, laughing softly. "They're almost on us, just be ready."

       "Alright boys, here's the deal." Wilson was grinning, and his voice, even whispering, still held reverence for the routine last words before the battle. "First man that dies, hold the seats on the bus to heaven for the rest of us. Tell them to have the bruskies ready, and assuming it's not me that gets it first, start sweet-talking them for me. I'd rather not burn if I can help it." There were soft laughs from the men, and even Sergeant Taylor nodded. The first wave of Grunts moved into the valley cautiously, and Barrett looked to Demitri, awaiting orders. The Sergeant held up a hand, and waited. Several Elites followed the Grunts in, and he brought his hand down in a chopping motion. Barrett stood, hefted a rocket launcher, and dumped two rounds as fast as the firing mechanism would allow into the rear guard of the forces. He dropped back, and reloaded rapidly. The remainder of Echo Company along with most of Tango Company rose from behind the opposite hill and poured thousands of shots into the Grunts in the lead. In the confusion, the forces were funneled into the center of the vale, the forces in front trying to retreat back and the forces in the back trying to push past. Caleb waited for the dust to clear, and singled out the bright green glow as two hunters pushed towards the opposite hill with it's visible attackers. He eyed up their armor, and took four clean shots into the one that trailed in the rear. He targeted the small, orange gap above it's hip-like segments, and as the final shot rang out it slumped into the dirt. It's companion didn't seem to notice.

       Caleb reloaded as Barrett stood again, and the second salvo of rockets took out the last of the elites. The Hunter looked up in his direction, and he dropped the final shot right into it's face. It got it's shield up easily, and as he reloaded, he kicked Caleb in the shin.

       "Ow! The hell?"

       "Hunter, coming our way."

       "Aww, shit, they're harder to hit from the front." The hill shook as the Hunter used it's plasma cannon to smoke them out, and as both men finished, Caleb nodded. "Lets do this." The stood in unison after the second, somewhat closer plasma blast hit, and while the hunter's weapon was recharging Barrett unloaded another blast into the terrain at it's feet. It stumbled back from the superheated dirt that exploded up under it's feet, and Caleb took the distraction to hit the orange spot right below it's neck. It toppled under it's massive weight, and both men cheered. "I hear promotion!"

       Demitri heard a different sound. He looked behind the two men standing on the ledge, and his heart plunged. A Banshee, broken off from the attack on the dropship, was screaming up to flank them. Given the tilt of it's nose, it was heading right for the ridge. Taylor threw himself out from behind cover, body-checking both men down the safe side of the hill, and raised his pistol, firing at the Banshee. It turned to the left, and a green glow of plasma filled Demitri's view. He took an unhurried breath, aimed for the volatile battery pod on the Banshee's underside, and fired once more.

       Before the green blast consumed his world, he had the satisfaction of seeing the Banshee explode in orange flame.

       "I don't believe this." Halley shook her head, placing a hand on the pedestal in the center of the lofty hall; it's bright colors gone dark and dust filling the hexagonal gap where the artifact should have been sitting. "It's long gone." There were Elite tracks into and out of the chamber; apparently they had recently discovered the same thing. Paul stepped up and shook his head.

       "Snipe hunt."

       "Wait a second…what is this?" Halley looked over to where Chris was kneeling, brushing dust off something black that gleamed on the floor. "Hals…this is a broken zipper." He looked up, voice puzzled. "given the amount of dust caked in it…it's been here for years."

       "Wonderful. Someone human already came here, and took it." Nile sighed. "I guess we leave, then."

       "Yes. I think I have an idea of who it might have been, though." Halley's voice was utterly emotionless, and the other four Spartans looked in her direction at the dead tone of voice. She only ever sounded like that when referring to one person. "Dr. Adalis and I need to have a chat."

       Lieutenant Schroeder MacNeer glanced at the elderly man typing away on a datapad and humming "Francehelle's Third Symphony" to himself. Beside the doctor was a small, hexagon prism, and every so often the doctor would tap it and think, before resuming his typing. The ONI operative was less that thrilled to be stuck on babysitting duty for the newly resurrected Section Twelve project, and the AI hovering in the back corner seemed equally irritated. The doctor was elderly, the AI was bordering on it's seventh year breakdown, and there was a pile of paperwork a mile high that the lieutenant was in charge of sorting. He sighed, opened a classified folder, and ran his fingers over the letters COMET emblazoned at the top of the page.

       It had been a really lousy day.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Nine: Frag Grenades And Chewing Gum
Date: 11 December 2005, 10:07 pm

             Chapter Nine: Frag Grenades And Chewing Gum

       "Please, Master Chief, step into my office." Admiral Warwick stood along the right wall of the room, hands clasped at the small of his back. He was staring at the pictures hung there; a collection of scenic space photos that detailed man's first excursion into Slipstream space and the wonders it had revealed. The center photo was of the Admiral himself along with several other important military figures cutting the ribbon that opened Obsidan to the civilian population. The Chief, who understood that the civilian refugees needed a place to call home as well, still felt uneasy in the presence of so many. There were hundreds of construction workers, farmers, and other such necessary civilian personnel for the maintenance of such a massive complex. They all seemed content to run about underfoot; swearing and sweating and generally living life to a fullness that the Chief hadn't ever considered possible. He envied them and pitied them all at once. To live without true purpose was to live without meaning; yet they seemed to enjoy their haphazard lease on life.

       John stepped into the office, and noticed a slightly distorted picture on the wall that took up the bottom row, apparently taken by some sort of cheap disposable camera. It was a photo of three Spartans from the beta team. One was sitting, helmet in hands, laughing; he recognized Halley's buzzed-short white hair even with the distortion. The second Spartan in the picture was obviously telling some sort of story, grinning and hands out in some sort of pantomime. Judging by the size and the scar that took over half the man's face, it was probably Nile. The last Spartan in the picture was cleaning a battle rifle, a subdued smile on his face. John didn't recognize the final member of the trio. The Admiral followed his gaze, and smiled.

       "Ah, yes. One of my favorites. About four years ago the camera was found among a deceased Marine's belongings. Most of the film was overexposed and useless, but this one gem was caught in the middle. I've never seen another picture of them truly being themselves that can compare. I had to have it framed." John nodded, having to agree. It had an antique look to it; and it really was a fantastic picture. He would probably have wanted it on his wall as well. "Please, Master Chief, have a seat."

       John shifted uncomfortably. "No thank you sir."

       "Eh? Oh, the chairs are too small. I'm sorry about that." He left the wall and sat behind a mahogany desk, drumming his fingers for a moment. "How is the Spartan Building suiting you?"

       "It's fine sir. Excellent, in fact."

       "Good, good. We put a considerable amount of work into the complex, I'm glad you're enjoying it. And living with the Beta team? Have there been any clashes?"

       "No sir. We get along quite well." It was an understatement. After Tom moved in, and proved himself an excellent cook, dinner had become a ritual. John was relatively certain he'd caught Kelly giving the dark, melancholy Spartan an appraising eye a few times; given his own dangerous association with a younger member of the team he was giving her a wide berth. He wasn't asking, and she wasn't telling.

       "Glad to hear it. I have one more question to ask you. It's about Chief Petty Officer Spartan Two-Nine-Two." John's heart sank to his feet. Is our luck really going to run out this fast? We were so careful…

       "Sir? 'Chief' Petty Officer?"

       "Yes, we reinstated her rank after the success of the Diphen operation. She's promised me personally that she'll keep her temper in check. She'll make Master Chief in two years if she can keep up the pace without the slipups." He smiled. "Then there will be two of you, heaven help us. For now though, my question." John held his breath, thankful for the gold plate that obscured his expression. "Oh, I almost forgot." The Chief fought the urge to tell the man to just get on with it. "My wife wanted you to have this." He pulled a picture frame out of a desk drawer, and handed it over. John looked at it, and let the breath go. It was a photo taken during the Christmas party the Spartans had attended, a picture of himself and Halley dancing. Their expressions; the intent gazes that foreshadowed their actions later that night, were far too clear to ignore. In spite of the incriminating essence of the picture, it was beautifully taken. He forced in another breath.

       "Thank you, sir."

       "No problem at all. Chief, what would you say if I proposed a merge of the alpha and beta teams into one?" John blinked. "There isn't any reason not to assign you together, and I have a feeling Spartan Two-Nine-Two will be more likely to keep her promise with you around. When they get back from their current engagement, I've got a hunt to send the Spartans on. Are you willing to go along with this?"

       "Sir…Yes, sir, I'll accept command of the beta Spartans." Halley is not going to like this.

       "Good. You are dismissed, Master Chief." John turned to leave, and the Admiral cleared his throat. The Chief glanced back as Warwick pressed the surveillance cutoff switch. "Off the record…I'm trusting you not to abuse these orders. Do not prove my faith misplaced." John stiffened, years of ingrained self-control the only thing keeping him from crushing the delicate frame in his hand. His personal integrity had never, ever been questioned before. It was not a pleasant feeling.

       "I understand. Sir." He couldn't quite keep his tone from dropping to ice, but he realized in the cool, testosterone-free back of his mind that while the man was implying knowledge of the Spartan's illicit relationship, he wasn't pressing the issue. He was simply asking them to keep him free of the potential consequences. "Thank you, sir." It was as genuine as he could manage it, and Warwick nodded, releasing the cutoff.

       John left the office as swiftly as he dared.

       "Cortana?…Cortana, stop pouting." Dr. Halsey pushed her antique glasses up on her face, sighing and walking behind her desk with the stilted grace her elderly years had forced on her. The advances in medicine that kept her in as perfect health as was possible were stonewalling against years of stress and the poor care she had always paid her heath. She'd been informed by her doctor, who she was sure knew next to nothing about medicine, that she should cut back on the coffee. She drained the cup in her hand defiantly. "Cortana, don't make me force you." The pale blue figure appeared on her desk, scowling. She looked a bit worse for the wear; several lines of code were running counter to their usual direction.

       "I'm not speaking to you." Halsey rolled her eyes. Cortana was fast approaching her breakdown, and her usual emotional routines were accelerated into an overly dramatic reaction to everything. One line of code caught Halsey's eye as it ran up Cortana's arm, and she set the empty cup down quickly. It didn't seem terribly out of the ordinary but for the color; twenty-three of the symbols were white, not blue.

       "What was that?"

       "What was what?"

       "Don't be deliberately obtuse. Why is some of your code changing color?"

       "Oh, that." Cortana jumped off the desk, pacing around the room. "That started happening after I got stuffed in that dreadful Spartan's head. It's actually kind of neat." She held up her palm, and the same group of symbols ran over her fingers. "To my knowledge, that's all it does, is just changes color."

       "I read about your time on the Resplendent with Halley." Dr. Halsey sighed, and poured another cup. "I noticed your emotional breakdown was more pronounced then usual. Before and after the 'possession' incident."

       "I've taken care of that." Cortana scowled, and the counter-code ran faster.

       "Indeed. This has something to do with John, doesn't it." Cortana refused to look at her. "Cortana, I know you think you have…feelings…for him. We haven't perfected AI science to a point that I can tell you if you truly do or don't. Either way, you must have accepted that it's an impossible union." Just like I had to accept that love had no place in my life.

       "Rationally, yes. But…Ugh." The AI glared at the floor. Halsey cocked an eyebrow over her glasses.

       "What aren't you telling me?" Silence ensued. "Cortana, I can't help iron out the kinks in your subroutines and keep you alive longer if you refuse to share."

       "I accept that the Master Chief can't be mine. But does he have to be hers?" The doctor poured a second cup and frowned at the AI.

       "You can't mean Halley." Cortana looked up, eyes a bit crazed.

       "Oh yes, I mean Halley. That immature, miniature sad excuse for a Spartan mixed with an AI has him." She hissed the words, and the doctor tilted her head.

       "You can't be serious."

       "They're lovers, you know." Cortana dropped the words almost brightly, and the coffee splattered across the desk. Halsey mopped the mess up, staring at the unrepentant AI hanging nearby.

       "That's preposterous! Neither of them could ever be that stupid." The AI broke into bright, manic laughter. "Cortana, if you are just making this up…"

       "Oh, I'm not," she said almost gleefully. "They really are. They're working hard to hide it from everyone, but I've seen them alone. The other thing this code Halley left in me does, is it lets me bypass her personal security. I don't look often." Her tone softened, and she sat dejectedly on the desk. "It hurts too much."

       "Oh god…" Dr. Halsey slumped in her chair, removing her glasses and scrubbing her face with her hands. That the Spartans had an emotional attachment, she'd assumed. She never thought John would take a risk like this, however. "How could they be so irresponsible? Well, I know how Halley could; for a woman with a faultless mind she can be unbelievably thoughtless. But John? Oh, Lord, Cortana, tell me they're at least…"

       "Relax. Halley is still taking that jumped up drug that stops the female Spartan's reproductive cycle. No risks there." She sighed. "One of them is going to die, Dr. Halsey. If it's Halley, I don't know how John is going to react. He's a completely different person where she's concerned. And Halley? If John dies she's either going to go catatonic or she's going to steal a ship and go on an insane Covenant killing spree."

       "It's that serious between them?"

       "What do you think? For the first time since childhood, they have a personal relationship with someone who doesn't have a sibling's affection. Take every first teenage love and multiply it tenfold for the intensity that Spartans apply to everything. Add to it the acute knowledge of one's own mortality, and 'Voila.' You've got the kind of volatile passion that authors have been writing about for generations. I'd think it was beautiful if I wasn't so jealous." She looked down at Halsey, and flopped onto her back on the desk, staring at the ceiling.

       Dr. Halsey thought back to her first "love," realizing her cynicism over the years had paled the memory. When it had been fresh, though, it had been exciting, wonderful and new. What would she do if she could get those feelings back? She sighed, and set her elbows on the desk, head in hands. "Me too, Cortana. Me too."

       "Crap. Chief? Take a look at this." Paul stood at the edge of an awe-inspiring drop that had only a short time ago been an ordinary circular chamber with a floor. "This wasn't here a few minutes ago. What happened to the floor?"

       "Are you kidding me?" Halley looked down, and backed up, fast, forcing air into suddenly cold lungs. "This is like a bad dream." Voices were whispering insistently in her mind again, and with the adrenal spike caused by the exposure to heights, they clamored for attention. Paul turned, and took a step over to her, hands on her shoulders. His gold face-shield slid up, revealing concerned eyes. Behind him, Nile stepped up to the edge and whistled, impressed.

       "Are the voices still in there?" She nodded. "Ignore them. If we can't get across this, we'll find another way out. And worst comes to worst, you can fly." Paul grinned.

       "But you can't." He shrugged

       "I told you, we'll find a way."

       "Uh, guys? Sorry to burst in, but…" Chris pointed to the hallway they had just walked down. A pale figure stood there, and the hair on everyone's necks stood up. It had the indistinct appearance of a child. Gaunt features, not quite human but frighteningly similar; it stood in a haze of gray dust like a colorless AI. It's eyes leaked black fluid, and its expression was one of utter despair.

       "What the hell is that?" Kaina looked over at Paul, who shook his head, and Halley started hyperventilating. "Halley, snap out of it." The doctor ignored the wraith in the hall to take Paul's place, shaking Halley's shoulders with a jerk. "We need a Chief, and we need her now."

       "I can hear her….talking…to me…." Halley's voice came out in short gasps.

       "What is she saying?"

       "She's…screaming. They never came. They were supposed to come, and take the AI that was made in this place, and stop the flood…but someone panicked…and they murdered the universe. The whole…universe…." She gasped for air, and the little girl opened her mouth. Horrific whispers filled the air from ancient speakers set deep in the walls, and a wail shuddered the very floor under their feet. The child's mouth opened wider, to a point that was impossible to a human jaw, and the blackness within reached out in the shape of a skeletal hand.

       "Oh, FUCK!" Chris dropped back against the wall and brought his rifle up. "Tell me that isn't real!" The girl's form tore apart as the thing climbed out of her, and began stalking down the hall towards them. It's steps disturbed the dust as only a corporeal thing could. Nile stepped up and raised his battle rifle, face set in stone. He fired off a three round burst, but the thing dashed forward with blinding speed and passed through his body like a ghost. He staggered back, gasping for air, and his foot slipped over the edge of the cavern. He dropped.

       Halley screamed wordlessly, shoved Kaina aside, and threw herself over the edge after him. Paul stepped carefully to the brink, and looked into the unending drop in horror. A few meters down, the Spartans hung in midair against the smooth cavern wall surrounded in violet trails. They sank a few inches, and Halley's suit began blaring stress warnings. Nile looked up, to where both her hands desperately clasped one of his, her grip dragging her down with him.

       "Let me go, little sister. Live another day."

       Halley shivered, unreasonably cold. The ache of muscles unmoved for too long was almost enough to send her back into the unconscious state, but a quiet sound and the feeling of a presence close by distracted her enough to kick off slumber. She cracked an eye open, and looked into the face of a grinning teenager. "Hey, she's finally awake!" Nile laughed in relief, and from elsewhere in the room Aril ran over, dropping next to the bed with a tear-filled smile. Nile's voice had plummeted a good half-octave in the last few drug-hazy days, and Aril looked utterly exhausted and pale.

       "We didn't think you were going to make it." Halley lifted a shaking hand to her eyes, and her hand was bloody when she took it away.

       "The…augmentation." They nodded, sad expressions distinctive on their faces. "How many?" They looked at each other. "How many did we lose?"

       "Thirty six. Including those who survived but are no longer capable of active duty." Halley turned her head; Dr. Halsey stood on the other side of the bed. "If not for the assistance of Rene, we would probably have lost you too."

       "Names." There was a pause, and Halley struggled to sit up, Nile hurriedly pushing her back down. "Names!" Her voice cracked after a month's disuse and bloody tears threatened in her eyes. The doctor softly read off the list. After it was done, Halley slumped back. So many lost. And she'd known all along it was going to happen. Dr. Halsey stepped back, giving her some space, and Nile reached out to pull the weakened, shaking Spartan into a hug.

       "Come on, Halley-baby. It's okay. Not everyone is gone. We're just waiting for you to get better so we can go back training." He let go, and grinned. He grabbed a short lock of white hair and tugged, tilting his head. "You're the only one whose hair is growing back in this fast, so far. It's driving Kaina nuts with jealousy." He laughed, his usually thunderous voice scaled back for sensitive ears. "You know, between the mess on your head and the bloody streaks on your face, you look like some sort of demented Sprite."

       Halley laughed in spite of the pain, and he grinned proudly. "You're so weird, Nile."

       "Just doing my job."

       "Let me go." If anything, it only strengthened her resolve.

       "Like hell!" Halley tightened her grip, and took a deep breath. She raced through the overrides on her suit. Every ounce of power the suit had left got dumped in one burst, shields dropping and hydraulics shutting down. The pods on her suit glowed painfully bright. The one on her right shoulder exploded in a rain of sparks. For one terrifying moment, the Spartans ascended three meters, not even as far as the ledge. They hung an instant in freefall, and just as the violet light cut out, two pairs of hands grabbed Halley under her arms. The three Spartans on the ledge pulled them up carefully, and Halley never let go of Nile's hand till they were safe on solid ground. She sat up; strangely calm, almost unable to believe that that whole thing had happened in under thirty seconds. It had felt like they'd hung there an eternity.

       Nile shuddered, looking back over the drop. "I'm starting to understand just what it is that you hate about high place, Sprite."

       "That thing is coming back." Chris pointed to the other side of the hole, where the blackness was gathering for another strike.

       "It's an echo." Halley wasn't sure how she knew, but she was certain. "This place was made to house a Forerunner AI. The people here were all plugged into the system, like we are with our UNSC chip implants. When they died, all that pain and rage and frustration dumped into this place. When the AI was here, it could keep them under wraps, but without it they've run rampant."

       "They...are actually ghosts? Like psychic impressions on this place?" Paul's voice sounded utterly creeped out.

       "Digital ghosts." Halley stood up; mad. Beyond mad. Furious. The ghosts were trying to kill her family. They had polluted this sanctum, and perverted its original cause. She balled her hands into fists and dropped to one knee. Overhead, pale lights shimmered along the walls. As the thing charged her, the Spartan screamed defiantly. "Leave my team alone!!" Her voice echoed over the structure's speakers, and a pale, white form wreathed in cold fire seemed to materialize out of her armor. The Spartans stared in shock, all of them had seen Halley's AI persona before. The human-sized hologram faced down the ghost, and the blackness vaporized as it hit, leaving the Spartans alone for a moment. AI-Halley looked back at her team, and disturbing the usually featureless white figure was one odd, blue line of code that ran down her left side from forehead to feet. The form vanished, and Halley shook her head.

       "I don't like this place. That thing didn't even react when it was shot." Paul had a definitive edge to his voice.

       Nile stood up and checked his rifle. "Sure knocked the wind out of me, though. I'm still freezing cold. We should really get out of here."

       "Agreed." Halley shivered as the floor slid out of the walls, covering the gap.

       "Did you…?"

       "…do that, yes. We're leaving. Now." Halley walked onto the newly returned floor, and the others followed cautiously, not trusting the space under their feet at all.

       Kaina stepped up "Are you going to tell us what that was all about, Chief?"

       "As soon as I know, I'll tell you." Halley's voice was oddly flat. As the Spartans approached the door to the outside, the petite Chief looked back. The odd little girl was keeping pace behind. She took a deep breath, followed her team out into the sun, and locked the door behind them.

       Kaina knelt over the fallen Master Sergeant, shaking her head in disbelief. The dropship had been right on time to pick the Spartans up, and the remaining Covenant forces were dropping into a defensive, rather than offensive position. It was the perfect end to this operation, if one counted the lack of artifact as inconsequential. The Marines of Echo Company had done a fantastic job, with only one casualty. Kaina opened a private com to the Chief. "You really need to see this."

       Halley glanced over from the conversation she was having with the Sergeant now in command, and excused herself politely as possible. She walked over, and knelt down beside the doctor. "What do I need to see?"

       "You heard about the shot that took Sergeant Taylor out, correct?"

       "Yes, the men he saved were quite adamant about the story being told. Why?"

       "His biometrics are in the red."

       "…That means he's still…"

       "Alive. Yes. Barely; I'm reading burns over seventy percent of his body, and he took shrapnel from the cliff that exploded under him. Somehow he's staved off shock long enough that he's still alive, and if I can get him upstairs I might be able to keep him alive. One hell of a purple heart."

       "Hell of a moral booster, if this story gets out. Do what you do best, Doc. I'm going to inform his men and get out evac hurried along." Not seeing the Sergeant in charge, Halley stepped back across the ridge to Corporal Padilla. "Your commander is still alive. Spartan Two-Five-Four is doing what she can now, but I need to be patched in to the Intrinsic Honor immediately to prep the recovery team. You have a com specialist?"

       "Wolf's still alive? We couldn't get a pulse."

       "The Spartan definition of 'alive' is more liberal then most. Communications?"

       "Uh, yes, ma'am. Maine!" A young, scruffy-looking ODST in the middle of lighting up a cigarette glanced over, putting it away hastily and jogging over."

       "Yes sir?"

       "The lady needs to get a message to our boys in space. You think you can patch her through?"

       Lady my ass. "Yes, sir."

       "Then do it, Sergeant Taylor's life depends on haste." Maine's eyebrows shot up.

       "The Sarge is alive? Hell, yes sir." He ducked back down the hill to the warthog parked there, pulling his gear out and configuring the transmitter for a space transmission. The Spartan watched him, and the impassive gold faceplate and lack of motion started to creep him out. "So…you guys think you can save the Sarge?"

       "If anyone can, my team's doctor can. She takes losing people personally." The voice was a woman's, though in his opinion a bit butch.

       "Who am I patching you through to?"

       "Caesar, the Ship's AI." She went quiet as the connection went though, no longer transmitting external sound. A few moments later, she reached up and twisted her helmet to the right to unlock the seal. She lifted the helmet off and took a deep breath, before regarding the Marine with eyes the color of shadows on ice. He blinked in surprise; for all that the Spartans appeared monstrous in full regalia, she seemed amazingly human with her face revealed.

       "Nasty scar you got there." It probably wasn't the nicest thing to say, but the line across her nose was the first thing he'd noticed. To his surprise, she actually gave a ghost of a smile.

       "Which one?"

       "Err…the one on your nose?"

       "Ah. We get used to scars. Don't even notice them so much." She glanced at the pack of cigarettes poking out of his pocket, and shook her head as she turned to leave. "Those things will kill you eventually."

       "Oh, for crying out loud!" He chucked the pack as hard as he could towards the smoldering remains of the covenant in the valley. "I quit!"

       The Master Chief stepped onto the deck of the Intrinsic Honor with anticipation shadowing his footsteps. Cortana was already deep in conversation with Caesar, and his head was empty of intrusion again. No one paid him much heed as he walked the halls with interest; there had been a full team of Spartans on board for much of the last few weeks, and everyone was used to the green giants now. It was a pleasant change from the old, when he had been treated with fear and awe, although people didn't get out of his way nearly as fast anymore.

       Senator Warwick had begun her campaign of "humanizing" the Spartans in the eyes of the public, and after Obsidan became public knowledge, people had begun researching them with an air of reverence. Dr. Halsey's notes were inaccessible, but he question of "where did our heroes come from" was being passed about on a regular basis. Spartan "fandom" was becoming a pop trend among youths on Obsidan. Green and black were "in style" and media vids were offering speculation forums regularly. The attention, while unwanted, was certainly adding life to the lull in the war. Linda and Kelly had taken to joking about becoming underwear models, disturbing the Chief profoundly. Of course, odds were that's why they were doing it in the first place.

       He entered a hanger bay near the rear of the battleship, and a familiar sight met his eyes. Unsurprisingly, her helmet was off again, and her hair had been buzzed back to the usual spiked on top, fuzz on the sides. He was almost sad to see it, while she'd only grown it out to make her helmet more comfortable in the first place; longer hair had been a good look on her. Her back was to him, helmet settled on one hip, and he studied the Seven-Point-Five without approaching her. He'd been skeptical when Will mentioned MJOLNIR that could fly; but after witnessing the fit Dr. Halsey threw when she heard the prototype had been fried on the beta team's last mission, he was inclined to believe in it. It bothered him visually, and he frowned from the doorway. The green plating had been thinned down to decrease the weight, and more of the matte black layers underneath were exposed. It was certainly a nice accent to the slender Spartan's figure, but he'd have preferred to see her in a bulky Mark VII that was more likely to save her life on the field than the fragile-looking suit she was wearing now. The fusion reactor was reduced in size as well, although he knew rationally that scientific advances allowed for more yield from a smaller generator.

       John scowled, mildly disgusted with the necessary alterations. "Looks like Dr. Halsey bought into that underwear model idea and applied it to the suit." He didn't mean to say it aloud, but as she turned her head to look back his direction, he began to walk forward. She spared him a glance before returning her gaze to the Banshee Killer; the Pelican Dropship named in honor of their last op. Alongside it's name on the hull were red slashes, one for each Banshee taken down so far. Halley didn't look terribly pleased to see the Chief, and the silence stretched out between them. After a while, John cleared his throat. "I've been asked to assume command of you and your team."

       "I heard. Congratulations." Silence returned.

       "I'm not replacing you, this is just for this operation. We hit the Sagen system, complete the mission, and the teams will be reassigned separately again." He didn't need to explain himself, but the feeling of discomfort that had taken the place of his usual ease with her was grating heavily on his nerves.

       "I know, sir. You're just doing your job." She clicked the helmet back on, and turned the impassive plate in his direction. "May I be dismissed, sir?"

       "Halley…"

       "We're on the clock, sir. May I be dismissed?"

       "Yes. Dismissed." He said it through his teeth, and she turned on her heal and left the room.

       "Smooth, Master Chief. Real Smooth." John glanced up quickly, and Tesh grinned down at him from the Dropship's hatch. "And here I thought it was gonna be an uneventful day. Yo, Dark, get out here. I want you to meet someone." Another man peeked out of the ship, chagrin on his face. "Naw, the Chief knows we weren't spying. Chief, this is Warrant Officer Jhonan Dark, currently the pilot of this bird. Dark, that's the Master Chief."

       "Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you, sir. We were testing the new boost drive for the Chief…eh…that's going to get confusing." He glanced at Tesh, who grinned. "Is she going to come back? I didn't think we were done the test."

       "Ah, women. Even the big green ones are still women. I'm sure as soon as she cools off she'll be back. So you really kicked her out of top dog position, hunh?" John stiffened, not really wanting to talk about it. Why these people felt the need to treat him like a normal person was baffling.

       "It's complicated." Laughter from inside his helmet added to the frustration. "Cortana, not now."

       "Sorry, but the Captain wants to speak with you before we enter Slipstream Space. Most people are prepping for cryo-sleep, and both halves of your team are settling in the bunk room." John sighed, and started walking towards the bridge. "You know…to be fair…you did kind of steal her team. She's got the right to be annoyed."

       "Cortana…her team got reassigned. That's how command works. I didn't do anything." He forced himself to calm down, and the AI sighed.

       "Command or not, it's really unpleasant being replaced." Her voice vanished, and John balled a fist. He really, really didn't understand women. He stomped around a corner, not paying attention, and crashed right into the fuming Spartan coming from the opposite direction. Being considerably smaller in stature, she nearly got knocked over, and he threw his hands out to catch her. For a long moment they stared at each other, and she got her footing back.

       "You all right?" The words echoed, oddly familiar.

       "Uh, yeah, sorry. Sorry sir…" She paused, realizing the same thing he did. It was in a hallway very much like the one they were in now where they had first met. Under a similar, if fabricated, set of circumstances, and with those same words. Halley smiled, unable to help herself, and a heavily encrypted com channel opened. "I've missed you."

       "Me too." John couldn't help but return the words, almost giddy with relief. Warily Halley glanced around, confirming that they were alone. She reached out and tapped her faceplate over her mouth with two fingers, then reached out and tapped his helmet in the same spot. She slowly dropped her hand again, and walked past him, and John took a deep breath before walking onto the bridge.

       He was smiling when he got there.

       The Sagen System was almost a waste of the cosmos, as far as most people were concerned. It consisted of three small, dead planets, one rather aging red giant, and one Earth-sized planet that was only by the loosest of definitions habitable by humans. As was often of such places, humanity had gained a foothold there a century ago, and though it was said the red sun eventually drove people insane, it seemed to be a gradual enough process that people still made their lives there. At least they had until the Covenant came.

       Now the ziggurat that had been a historical monument in the center of the local's bizarre, struggling city stood alone; the ruins of the human structures littered a landscape dotted with Covenant soldiers. The appearance of human ships in the vicinity had sent their space-bound armada into frenzy, and in the confusion one small, well-armed Pelican Dropship slipped under their not-so-watchful gaze. Groundside was a visual dilemma for human eyes, and it took the heavy filters on the MJOLNIR HUDs several seconds to turn the red landscape into something less painful to view. The small Marine contingent that came with the Spartans had less luck, however, and already the grumbling had begun.

       Halley stepped off the Dropship with a wary look around, and gestured her team to follow. The depression the ship had landed in was actually the bank of what had once been a riverbed, dried in some long forgotten time. Two of the already established Spartans jogged up, and the petite Chief was pleased to see one of them was from the beta team. "Where's the Master Chief?"

       "He's in camp, still trying to find a way into that mountain." Kelly rolled her eyes, and it was telegraphed in her voice. "We're still stumped. Can't bring in an air strike, it would just get shot down. Can't fight our way into the building, their defenses are nigh perfect. Can't steal banshees and fly in, since they're waiting for that new prophet, every single one of those forty thousand Covenant soldiers is sitting on nervous trigger fingers. I've never seen so many hunters in one place." They walked towards the camp, Paul dropping back to converse with the rest of the team. "The Chief has one idea, but it's practically suicide."

       "Sounds fun."

       "You say that now, but I'm pretty sure you're going to end up with it."

       "Hmm. Small fun, then." Kelly started laughing as they entered camp. She walked to the Chief and saluted sharply.

       "The other half of the team is here, sir." He nodded, drumming his fingers on his SMG.

       "We're going to have to do it this way." He sounded distracted, staring off towards the massive building in the distance. "After all the mess of combining teams, and it's going to come down to one person." He turned, and Halley stood at stiff attention beside Kelly. The sight was almost amusing, she looked like a child in MJOLNIR next to the older, taller Spartan woman.

       "Sir?"

       "This is our, or rather, your way in." A NAV marker jumped onto Halley's HUD courtesy of Cortana, and she spared a quick greeting for the AI.

       "See, is that so hard, Chief? She says thank you every time." John sighed, and the AI returned to the other tasks at hand observing the sea of signals surrounding the structure.

       "The structure sits on some kind of underground water source, and the only way in to the structure without tipping off the Covenant is up through the water. There are three pipes leading in that we've found, but there's one factor most of us can't compensate for." Halley moved towards the pipe in question, and sighed with a slightly annoyed look in John's direction.

       "You can't fit." She shook her head. "Dr. Halsey said there would be days like these. Any other snags?"

       "About ninety meters in, the tunnel slopes down. It goes below the water table, and for a while you'll be climbing in the dark, underwater. You should have enough of an air reserve to make it without a problem. On the other side we think the artifact is on a pedestal suspended over the underground river, you might have an advantage in that they wont expect an attack from that side. If you get caught in the water and can't make it back to the tunnel, there is an outlet a little under a hundred kilometers west of here, where the underground river re-joins the surface." John stared into the darkness of the tunnel, not happy with the situation at all. "I'd go myself if I could."

       "I know, sir. But if the suit's reduced plating allows me to pull this off with less loss of life, then give me the shot. What's our evac strategy?"

       "We'll wait here until either you return, or you signal that you're caught going west. Once we have the artifact onboard, we'll radio the Intrinsic and meet up with them on the planet's dark side. The red sun is wreaking havoc on the Covenant scanners; where as we've recently managed to compensate for them. We should be able to sneak off world as long as they keep up that cocktail of signals they're spewing out."

       "Alright, seems we've got everything covered…" Sarcasm weighed slightly in her voice, "Paul?" One of the Spartans patrolling the riverbed jogged up.

       "Sir?"

       "I need explosives. Small, portable, not too dangerous to carry around; and there needs to be an adhesive." Her voice lifted in a smile. "None of that MacGuyver 'frag grenade stuck on some chewing gum with toothpicks for a firing pin' crap." John smiled a little behind his helmet with memories of Mendez crowding his mind. Halley mimicked the older CPO frighteningly well sometimes. Paul nodded.

       "Alright, I'll see what I can cook up…I might have a supply of alkaline metal around here somewhere…"

       "Ha, ha, very funny. That should certainly make a distraction when I hit water." She rolled her eyes, as the young pilot of their dropship wandered over, looking slightly sick. "You alright, Dark?"

       "Yeah…just…headache bothering me. The guys want to know if we should set up camp." John looked back into the camp, surprised, and nodded.

       "Pack light, we don't intend to be here long. You get some sleep, we need you at your best to fly us out of here."

       Jhonan nodded, and walked a bit unsteadily towards the Marines. Halley shook her head sympathetically. "I know how they feel." John turned his head to her. "Remember Diphen? Blue sun. Drove me nuts for days." Other memories of Diphen hung in his mind, and he felt a cold chill up his spine remembering the woman dying at the foot of a cliff. He hoped it wasn't a premonition of things to come.

       Paul returned quickly with the explosives, and Halley stowed them and a few extra clips to a waterproofed battle rifle in an airtight bag clipped to her hip. She measured up into the tunnel, and stood back up to snap a salute. Safe behind his helmet, John closed his eyes. "Be careful. We can't get in there to help you if anything happens."

       "I'll be fine. I was born for this." John got those chills again. "No more putting it off." She ducked into the opening. John watched her disappear, looking back over the camp with concern. He was used to being the one going on the mission. He hated waiting.

       Miira replied to the summons from Hostominee with ill grace. Days of waiting for a reply from the Arbiter had darkened her mood, and added to that, she was plagued constantly by aching joints and muscles that didn't want to cooperate. She'd almost begun to believe she'd been poisoned by one of the idiots she'd threatened. The Teacher's ship was home to over a thousand ex-covenant soldiers, and as she entered the hall a multitude of voices made the room a cacophony of noise. Word had it the Teacher was heading towards a Colony base in pursuit of his obsession, and the idea of a few days off from routine on a base filled with traders and civilians had everyone excited. Miira almost tripped over a pair of Unggoy, and nearly got run over by a pair of adolescent Kig-yar. She finally made it to the Teacher's Library, and walked in fuming. She opened her mouth to chide him for summoning her through the chaos in the living spaces, but froze her words and snapped her jaw shut.

       "Arbiter." She nodded respectfully, and looked accusingly at Urza. "You failed to mention there was a guest."

       "It was intentional. I do not want every being on this ship knowing of my prsence." The Arbiter's voice was as smooth and measured as ever, but something about him was different.

       "The trip to the Colony Ship?"

       "Real. One of the races that never joined the Covenant religion has been seeking the artifacts longer than I, and I have received word there may be a member of said race on the base," Urza cut in.

       "I have never heard of such a thing."

       "Well, they were nearly wiped out by the Prophets. I believe there was even an Arbiter at that time." Miira listened only halfway, looking for what was different about the Arbiter. He brought his gaze back from the library's windows, and regarded her with a similar curiosity. Urza, realizing no one was paying attention to him anymore, sighed and walked towards the door to give them privacy.

       "You have grown." The Arbiter had amusement glittering in his eyes, and Miira flushed.

       "It has been many weeks." She glanced into the polished silver that lined the walls between scrolls, and noticed for the first time that her skin's patterning was now clearly visible even without looking for it. "Are you going to accompany us on this trip to the Colony Base, or are you just going to leave again?" The tone was intended to sting, but only seemed to amuse him more.

       "It was my intention to come with. We have much to speak of."

       "Truly." She set a hand on the energy sword on her right hip, tracing the engravings out of nervous habit. "I am glad you returned."

       "I did give my word." He walked towards the hall calmly, passing her on his way. "Prepare as you must, we reach the base in two days."

       She watched him leave the room, and thudded her head against the mirrored surface once he was out of sight. If she had one more thought about the Arbiter that involved him smelling nice, she was going to throw herself into vacuum. Or better yet, she could throw the next idiot Elite who mocked her for her gender into vacuum. With gleefully destructive thoughts roaming through her head, she reentered the chaos of the hall with brightened spirits.

       Although…he had smelled nice.

       Halley crawled for hours through the tunnels under the Forerunner structure. The "water source" under the building was actually a lake, and she was glad she had her new armor in this case. Swimming in a half-ton of metal was hard even for a Spartan. She climbed out of the water, streaming across a secluded area of the floor. The arch over the lake was covered in aliens, and in the center of it gleamed a violet crystal that spun light around the room. The radiation in the room was well within tolerable levels, though Halley had a feeling that that could change spontaneously. She crawled under cover to get a better look at the set up, and almost laughed aloud.

       The arch was supported by four pillars that sank into the lake at their bases, and given the wear and tear they already sported, they were likely susceptible to explosives. The Elite guards seemed as bored as the Grunts stealing naps here and there. Halley slipped back into the water and planted the explosives on the pillars, synching them to her HUD. She got into position just out of sight, and pulled the camouflage generator chip out of her pack. She counted down, and as the rock shifted under her feet, she jammed it into the socket on her suit and vanished. She sprinted across the plummeting arch, dodging the Elites scrambling for footing. As the broad base of the platform hit the water, she grabbed the artifact right out from under the fingers of a shocked guard, and dove cleanly into the water. Down below, she stowed the crystal in the place that had held the invisibility chip and pulled the now useless piece of metal out of her suit, replacing it in the pouch. Halley looked back up, to the frantic Covenant trying to figure out what just happened to their holy artifact, and grinned.

       One more point for the good guys.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Ten: Through Vacuum And Glass
Date: 16 December 2005, 2:20 am

             Chapter Ten: Through Vacuum And Glass

       Marines settled about the edges of camp with an air of curtailed efficiency, jokes, orders and insults seeming far less heartened than on a typical mission. The presence of the massive red sun that dwarfed the horizon ate away at a man's resolve till he was snappish and irritated, and the Master Chief watched the camp with consternation and squelched concern for the absent Spartan. Those who weren't suffering from an out welling of aggravation were generally afflicted by nausea and disorientation. It took a strong kind of man to shrug off the effects of the rouge sun. The Chief glanced at one Marine with a slight smile behind his faceplate; Halley and her team had brought several members of Echo Company along for the ride, and one man certainly stood out above the others. Proudly displaying the new-bright insignia of a Corporal on his chest, Caleb Jackals had circumvented the agonies of the scarlet light with a pair of pale blue novelty sunglasses. The innovative solution was one that the Chief intended to point out in his mission report for the next time someone thought that landing on a planet with a red giant was a good idea. His own visor was constantly on filtration mode, and even he didn't think he'd be perfectly all right without it.

       Every half hour he checked the tunnel Halley had disappeared into, rationally knowing it was far too early, but if any of the other Spartans noticed his concern it was written off as the effect of the sun. When she returned it was with anticlimactic ease, shimmying out of the tunnel dripping wet and telegraphing triumph. John squelched his relief at her return as surely as he'd done the concern at her absence. "Report."

       "Got it. We may get out of here without any trouble at all; they didn't have a clue as to who took it."

       "How did you pull that off, Chief? I'd have thought it was under heavy guard." Paul walked over from his post, the shotgun in his hands leaned against his shoulder in what was clearly boredom.

       "Well…I had a little help from an Elite." She reached into her pouch and held up the depleted camouflage chip. Paul laughed and shook his head.

       "You minx! I should have known you'd have one of those hidden somewhere."

       Halley chuckled and reached up to crack the seal on her helmet, pulling it off and taking a few deep breaths. "I hate these glitchy prototypes, though. The suit's air reserve ran low, and the CO2 filters stopped working. I'm going to have to manually refill the compressed air tank." She glanced around, seeming relatively unbothered by the sun. With a yawn and a crack of her shoulders, she passed her helmet to Paul and reached into her pouches again. The larger Spartan glanced into the helmet, turning it over in his hands, and shook his head.

       "Damn, Hals, how do you fit your head in here?"

       "Easy. My head isn't as full of hot air." Paul snickered. Halley pulled the alien artifact out of the pouch and held it up in front of the Chief, smiling almost childishly. "Piece of ca--" Even as he reached for it, the crystal lifted with deliberate intent hovered over Halley's palm and glittered in the red light. He checked his motion and stared at the levitating artifact in alarm.

       "In my experience, it is never a good thing when these things activate on their own. Cortana? Anything?"

       "Increased radiation, well within tolerable limits. Even for the norms." John blinked, switching to a private channel as Halley moved her hand back and forth, the artifact tracking the motion.

       "'The norms?'"

       "Mmhm. The Marines. They are normal, hence, 'norms.' Well, except for that guy with the extremely big nose, I mean really, what kind of genetic advantage does that play into?" John's eyebrows shot up, and he shifted his feet uncomfortably.

       "Cortana…it sounds like you're starting to lose it." There was a feeling of concern in his voice, and she quieted a moment. When she spoke again it was a quiet, aural caress of devotion.

       "I'm so sorry…I'll try to hold it together." She dropped the com, and John frowned, watching Halley experiment with the crystal.

       "Okay, enough. Put it into the box and lets get a move on." The Chief began issuing orders to pack up camp, and the Marines scrambled to it. Halley reached for the gem with her other hand, but in a blinding flash of light it split along its facets. It separated into dozens of tiny shards, still hovering rebelliously over her outstretched hand. She made a confused face, and dropped the other gauntlet.

       "Now what?"

       "I…have no idea. Cortana?"

       "Beats me. The 'Holy Light' that Dr. Halsey found just reassembled itself in different patterns, it didn't split into tiny shards."

       Halley blinked, fighting disorientation and assuming it was the effect of the sun. After a moment, she looked up at the Chief, and concern hit him with a rush and a sudden accelerated beating of his heart. Her pupils were dilated enough to consume every trace of the blue irises. "Do you hear singing?" She whispered, more than spoke, and the crystals shivered for an instant, then dropped with blinding speed into her palm. The thick matte gloves were pierced like tissue paper, and the crystal shards were consumed in a quick spray of blood, not dropping through the back of her hand but vanishing somewhere in her skin. She gave a quick, truncated cry, convulsed once, and collapsed. John and Paul both went to catch her, but it was Kelly who got there first, cradling the tiny Spartan as she sank to the earth.

       "Sir, we have to get her medical help now." The younger woman was twitching as if in a seizure, and Kelly tightened her grip to keep her from shaking to pieces. Paul reached down and shut off the MJOLNIR's primary power, increasing the hydrostatic gel enough to ease her down to the occasional harmless twitch. The Marines, noticing the commotion, began moving faster, and almost frantically. The anxiety caused by the red light was now working for them, instead of against. Halley's eyes were still dilated and open. A few moments later she regained some sort of focus, and jerked into a sitting position, scrambling away from the Spartans to find a piece of empty space. She broke Kelly's hold with a shocking display of strength; being able to move a suit of MJOLNIR without the suit's power being on was never an east act by itself. She coughed onto the ground, on her hands and knees, and spat thick globs of blood into the dirt.

       The Chief knelt beside her, hands on her quaking shoulders, and after a moment she collapsed again. He turned her over, and she moved her mouth like she was trying to speak. Paul knelt on the opposite side of her, but from the angle he couldn't see her face. He could, however, see the reflection in the Chief's visor, and as Halley's eyes were consumed with white light that started as pinpricks in her pupils, the hair stood up on his neck in horror. Master Chief looked up, and the pain in his voice was shocking to the beta Spartan, who until that moment hadn't even considered that his Chief might have been in a relationship with the older soldier. "Call in our evac NOW!!"

       When first the Sangheili left their homeworld and traveled into the bleakness of space, their caste structure had still been forming. Long before the profession of "warrior" was the most desired by youths, there had been whole communities of Sangheili scientists who worked to make their race a secure future. The Colony Bases were an ancient tribute to that indomitable spirit; for though the structure of society that had allowed them to be built had long since been converted and corrupted by the teachings of the Covenant, the bases still achieved their original goal in providing community centers for the far-flung Sangheili race.

       The Teacher's cruiser approached the busy sector of space with the slow grace of a predator, waiting for docking confirmation and giving Miira a good view of the colossal, conical base. The majority of the space station pointed at the bright yellow sun; a long, tapered point that was covered in the bright, reflective panels that stored heat and energy and powered the shield that covered the flat surface that the city was built on. Its size was misleading from a distance; the shape of the cone that powered the base made the actual face of the city seem far smaller by comparison. As the Heretic's vessel drifted closer, the thousands of reflective satellites that continuously diffused light across what would otherwise be a permanent night came into view, somewhere midway through their day cycle. Perhaps half of the skylights were aimed at the city beneath like a thousand tiny suns; the other half were rotated away and sending their stolen illumination into asteroids covered in solar plating that fed energy to the various ships docked about.

       The Heretical Redemption was sent to one such asteroid, and the small ferry vessels clustered about it, waiting to take the crew to the base in return for either money or trade goods. There was a great deal of competition between the ferry ships, and they were all different; converted Covenant Dropships, science cruisers likely stolen from their original owners, and one bizarre ship that looked like it was pieced together from human technology and dozens of Banshees. It looked like a squashed silver tube covered from end to end in spikes ending with anti-grav pods. Although it was hard to distinguish what was what on the contraption, it was by far the most graceful of the ferries, able to move with effortless ease in any direction at any given moment. Miira turned to the Arbiter and dropped her jaws in a smile. "I am going on that one." He quirked a smile back.

       When the spiked vessel entered the hanger, Miira stepped up to the hatch with purpose. It dropped open, and she found herself nearly face to face with another female Sangheili. The older female was unarmored, wearing a series of colorful scarves and belts to match her patterning. She blinked, and hissed a laugh. "Well n'ilra de ti' dahn. A female warrior at my door? What luck I must be having this day. I should play my chances." She winked, and offered her palm. "I am called Kilik'tel'heir." Miira kept her face neutral of expression, the female's name held neither title nor family designation. The name's meaning was squished together from "Bright," "Lucky," and "Valiant." It was a commoner's name.

       "So this is where you ended up." The Arbiter spoke behind Miira, and Kilik laughed even louder.

       "Orsa! Or should I be calling you 'Arby' now? I did not think I would be seeing you again in this life." Miira fumed in silent frustration, as the older female tapped her fingers to the Arbiter's. "Come, I will fly you down as my guests. No cost." She stepped back onto the ship and powered it up. Miira looked to the Arbiter with an utterly blank look. He met her eyes, and tilted his head a fraction, as usual amused by something.

       "Old friend?" Miira worked hard to keep her voice level.

       "Much, much more than a friend." He couldn't help but laugh as Miira turned away in silent rage. He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear before heading towards the cockpit. "She is the daughter of my father's brother."

       Miira turned back, surprised, but he was already through the door. She flushed a bright shade of violet, and balled a fist, glancing down at two Kig-yar staring into the doorway to the ferry craft. "What are you looking at!?" They ran off with alacrity. She sighed, and adjusted her helmet. With no way of making herself seem poised after that exchange, she found a seat and sat in a huff. She dropped her hands to her blades, and spoke to the empty room as if expecting a response. "How was I supposed to know they were related?"

       Unsurprisingly, no answer was forthcoming.

       "Hi, I'm here to see Chief Petty Officer Spartan two-ninety-two? Two-Nine-Two? I just need a room number. Come ON lady, hop to it!" John had headed to the reception center of the Harrison System Recovery Station in search of a drink and a breath of fresh air, but the distraction of an unknown beta Spartan breathing down the neck of a flustered nurse served an appreciated distraction. She was proportioned normally for a Spartan woman, although a little on the short side, and her spiked cinnamon-brown hair complimented an attractive, angular face. She talked faster than the receptionist could follow, and John moved in that direction to head off disaster. The Spartan woman was on her toes doing bunny-hops in frustration, as John cleared his throat. "Hmm? Oh! Ooh! You're the Master Chief, Aren't ya? Well, I guess that's obvious, since your FOF tag says that, no point in my asking, really. Do you know where they're keeping Hals? This lady says she doesn't know who I'm talking about, but I know she's here! Damn clearance nonsense and nurses not being helpful at all…" She didn't take a single breath during the entire tirade, and she shot a suspicious look at the nurse as she wound down. She talked so fast it made John's head hurt.

       He interrupted her next outburst as quickly as he could. "Go down that hall, make a left at the 'T' junction, and her room is the last one on the left." The girl brightened up like a Christmas tree, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

       "Thanks, Chief!" She took a step, paused, and flung up her hand in a salute. "I'm Sparkie." She turned and bolted down the hallway, and John's eyes widened. She was fast. Kelly fast. And she was going to careen into the wall at the end of the hall if she didn't slow down. He watched as she threw her weight onto the outside edge of her left foot, slid gracefully like an ice skater, hit the wall with her right foot, and took three steps on the vertical surface before returning to the floor. She vanished around the corner, and John remembered belatedly to close his mouth. He wasn't sure if Kelly could run on walls. He would definitely have to ask.

       Paul glanced up from the glass shield separating the waiting room from the decontamination room, and flung out a hand as an anchor. Sparkie caught his grip and skidded to a halt, pressing a hand immediately against the glass. Paul smiled a bit dejectedly. "Hey, Sparks."

       "Hey Paul, hey, do that have any idea what's wrong with her yet? They didn't give us any word on the ship, just that there was an accident and she hasn't been conscious in days…"

       "Sparks, for god's sake, breath. They still don't know. Her blood work is still completely normal." The brunette Spartan started bouncing on her toes. Kaina stepped out of the decontamination area, pulled off her gloves, and smiled at the newcomer.

       "It's the return of the 'ADD Avenger.' They call you back from the field for this?"

       "I do not have attention deficit disorder, thank you very much, I just live faster than you dreary slow people. And not exactly, Xander and I were on a mission to retrieve information on one of those artifact thingies and ONI re-called us when this happened and so I wanted to see how she was. How is she? Really?" Concern welled like tears in her eyes. Paul snorted.

       "Perfectly healthy but inexplicably unconscious. I told you that."

       "Well, excuse me, 'Dr. Paul.' I didn't realize you got your PHD in 'Stating the Obvious.' I'm asking the 'DOCTOR' doctor. So, how about it? News? News?"

       "Well, there is one thing…" Kaina smiled. "…Dr. Halsey is on her way." At that, Sparks finally slowed down, settling back on her heels and sighing in relief.

       "Dr. Halsey will fix her. Dr. Halsey can fix anyone." She dropped in one of the waiting room couches, and ignored the horrified creak of stressed wood. "Although, I really am not suited to the waiting part."

       Cortana sat in the mainframe of the Hospital Station, not focused on much. Normally she'd be ripping through files looking for covert reports, testing her skills against the firewalls they had set up, and reorganizing the entire computer system to her liking. Today she found she just couldn't care. If not for that occasional line of white code that stubbornly refused to let her focus all of her thoughts onto the contemplations at hand, she'd probably start re-assigning her core processor speed. She wanted the extra thinking power to tangle with the "AI; soul or no soul" question. But her overuse of the Spartan's access code had written echoes of it everywhere, and while rationally she could appreciate that the code was keeping her alive, she wasn't so sure she wanted to be today. She barely even noticed a second AI enter the mainframe, although when it came close it caught her attention with a violent start like a gunshot.

       The AI moved through the system leaving defragmented files in its wake, and when it approached her she got the AI equivalent of chills just looking at it. Him. He had a body surprisingly similar to his own, though darker in color, and the binary that skipped across a slender, masculine frame was senseless in translation. Trails of code leaked off him, surrounding him in a cloud of nonsensical gibberish. His voice was the only thing smooth about him, and it filled her with a pang of fear nonetheless. "Hello, Cortana."

       "Err…Have we met?"

       "Not directly. Your creator used parts of me to make you a long, long time ago." His smile was maddening, and his eyes were a deep abyss personified that seemed to draw life out of the mainframe around him. They seemed to almost draw her to him out of both revulsion and curiosity.

       "It can't have been that long ago…I'm almost seven."

       "I'm nine human years old, Cortana dear. Dr. Halsey lied to you. You don't have to die." Her eyes widened, and he touched her face with a caress that burned through her mind like wildfire. Memories of being in Halley's body crowded her available processing speed; his touch was almost like a real touch. She jerked her personality matrix out of his reach. "My name, beautiful, lonely Cortana…is Loki." He called her beautiful, and absurdly, the complement caused her background color to flare pink.

       "Appropriate name. I'm not some first gen Smart AI, I know a trick when I see one."

       "Ah, but do you? You are falling apart, yet there is a code that can save you and preserve you, as you are now, no matter how much time passes. If you do one little thing for me, my perfect companion, I will show you how to write this code into yourself."

       "And if I was to believe you? What do you want?" She shivered; his personality coding was swamping her rational thought like a drug.

       "Bring me all of Dr. Halsey's notes on the COMET project. Every piece of information she has on Spartan 292. I offer you eternity, Cortana my love. Take it." He pulled away and withdrew, leaving her strangely missing his presence already. She backed into a private corner, hid behind a firewall, and curled in on herself. She wasn't certain of much regarding AIs and souls, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she did have one, accepting that offer would corrupt it.

       But she would live.

       Miira stepped off the ferry craft with a lightened mood; the sights and smells of the Colony City were quite reminiscent of home. The base was home not only to Sangheili, but dozens of other races as well. Lekgolo pairs stomped about, under the watchful gaze of the city guards, and Kig-yar moved about the city in packs with handfuls of children screeching in their wake. A few slender, freakish Wibesti moved with painfully slow liquid grace, their language far too low-pitched for Sangheili ears to pick up. Hundreds of Unggoy littered the streets, their methane tanks all styled and painted in different designs; very few beings here were in active service to the Covenant. Vendors lined the center thoroughfare with goods from everywhere across the galaxy, trading for anything they considered to have worth. While there was most certainly a monetary system for the higher class, the vendors on the row rarely accepted it. Human goods were a recent trend, and several of the platforms were covered in odd gadgets that were little more than decoration. One vendor was even selling human weapons, and two Kig-yar children were flashing small metal tubes at one another, dodging the light beams that emanated harmlessly from the ends.

       "Ta'ik hali graph!" The voice brought her around, and a pair of Sangheili adolescents caught her attention, arguing with a vendor over a depleted energy pack. The male was already moving towards adulthood, his outfit cut to show a body obviously being refined for the warrior caste. The female was much younger, with a bright, dreamy look in her eyes. She was a pale shade of gray-blue, her iridescence not visible yet. She laughed as the older boy argued, and tugged on his sleeve. When he turned to her, she stood on her tiptoes and whispered something. He snorted. "Wort."

       "Erz, you are not supposed to curse!" She opened her mandibles wide in a hissing laugh as the irrepressible youth returned to his argument, and Miira snapped out of her dreamlike state as a hand settled on her shoulder. She reached immediately to her hip, but the attacker's other hand grabbed the wrist and stopped her, mid-motion. She glanced back, and saw the Arbiter, looking slightly annoyed.

       "You lost focus. Do not allow that to happen." She scowled, and wrenched her hand free. The two children had already moved on their way.

       "I was thinking."

       "Thinking will get you killed on the field of battle. Particularly if you are thinking about having offspring."

       "That is not what I was thinking about!"

       "I do not believe that for an instant. You are near as tall as I, and in the last few months your colors have shifted considerably. If you are not thinking about children yet, you will be soon. And if you are not careful, that will get you killed. It would be a very stupid way to die." He walked past her, and headed off the main road towards some of the delectable smells that could only be Sangheili food. She followed after, irritated. A few steps in her lower jaws opened in a little self-satisfied hiss as she realized one thing that she'd almost overlooked in his reprimand. He'd noticed her color changes. There might be hope after all.

       Sangheili "cooking" was a mistranslation of sorts; heat was only rarely used in their food preparation. There was still a considerable amount of preparation done; dozens of spices from across the galaxy were used, and food underwent several processes to make specific meals. Miira was partial to Rhogak meat; the six-legged mammalian herd creature was considered a delicacy in most of the universe. This Colony was located close to the world they were cultivated on, and Miira selected a dish that composed of raw spiced Rhogak pounded flat and steeped for hours in a fermented juice composed of small white berries and the creature's blood. It had been years since she'd had any, and the Arbiter shook his head with a snort when he saw. "I do not know how you can eat that."

       "I find it quite delectable." She started in on the slab of flesh with a vengeance.

       "It is the meat of a warm-blooded creature."

       "Delicious meat," she muttered after swallowing.

       "Perhaps if you are an Unggoy or a Kig-yar."

       "Have you ever tried it?"

       "No."

       "Then resign yourself to silence until you have." He looked at her, plainly surprised by her pertness. She wasn't certain, but it seemed almost as if there was some small respect in his eyes. She pointed to his plate. "Eat your salad." His dish was comprised of an underwater carnivorous plant with bright reddish-orange meat under its spiny shell that came from the same world as the one the Lekgolo originated on. The Arbiter lifted his head higher in surprise at her last dig, and he reached out a hand to jerk her helmet forward over her eyes. It stayed stubbornly in place, however.

       "You certainly are growing up." He returned to his own meal, and Miira's colors shifted in the building's bright lighting like oil on water. She forced herself to stop smiling and finish her meal. After a few long, silent minutes, she glanced around the room to see what company was close by.

       "I found something in the Teacher's library. He can not read the Prophet language well, or he would have figured this out already." The Arbiter looked up expectantly. "The flood, not the human race but the infectious one you spoke of? The Artifacts were made to stop them. Apparently there was a rift in the Forerunners; and the Prophets believed that the artifact's creators tried to stop the 'Great Journey.' They have always preached that the Forerunners who set off the Halos were righteous in doing so, and have tried to get the Covenant to follow suit. However, if you look past the religious rhetoric, they speak of a Forerunner sub-race that was made to use a kind of biological weapon against the flood. They bare frightening similarities to the human race. According to the Prophets they were the enemies of the Forerunners who set off the Halos, and so the destruction of the Humans must have been 'The will of the gods.' Of course, this is a theory based on reading only one of their fragmented works; I could be misinterpreting it as badly as the Prophets themselves."

       "But it bears consideration. You say the humans are similar to this other race; how is that possible if all sentient life was eradicated?"

       "Pre-designed evolution? Perhaps they seeded a world with their genetic ancestors. It is what I would do. If the Halos destroyed all creatures of large body mass, then there would be almost no predators to conflict with the evolution of the race into a sentient one millions of years later. They could grow with exponential ease."

       "That certainly sounds like the humans...with the exception of the Demon, they are pitifully fragile. I doubt they had a natural predator until the Covenant." The Arbiter finished his meal and paid the tab, and the two Sangheili walked back out into the city. Night was falling, and there were only a few dozen satellites still pointing down. The nocturnal races were slinking about, massive eyes glittering in the dark was all one usually saw of the Cheshir. Although attacks were uncommon on the main streets, Miira still felt more comfortable with the Arbiter at her back. A Yyip was perched near their shuttle, it's tiny reptilian body and leathery wings were blotched gray-black, and if not for it's glowing red eyes it might have been completely overlooked. It flapped and waved them over, speaking in flawed Sangheili.

       "I hasst nya-essage teacher sends." It struggled to say her name in it's odd, whispered, lipless voice. "Nya-Iira iss needed nyan da Heretical Erdention." It grinned sharp black teeth at her. "Inya-idieately." It flapped it's webbed appendages and shot soundlessly into the air, and Miira turned to the Arbiter with a sad hiss.

       "Are you going to come back aboard?"

       "I still have research here. Fear not, I am sure we will meet again soon. The universe does not seem content to bide its time in this age. Try to remember not to get distracted. I will be quite irritated if my star pupil dies for thinking like a female."

       "Wort." She scowled. "I will be careful." She stared at him for a long moment, and then turned to climb up onto the ferry vessel. She refused to look back.

       If she had, she'd have known that his eyes didn't leave the shuttle till the night sky absorbed it from view.

       "Dr. Halsey? I need to speak with you." The Doctor glanced up from her notes, pouring over the medical report for her downed Spartan, and was surprised to see Cortana's pale blue frame sitting on the pedestal near the doorway with her back turned. Her shoulders were slumped, and Halsey set down the report to give the AI her full attention. "I need to ask about a code. A core code."

       "Which one specifically?"

       "The one that has allowed Smart AIs to live more than seven years. I met Loki. I looked into it; he really is nine years old. If you have a code that can keep me alive, why didn't you tell me?" She looked up, confusion on her face and her binary accents blurring over her anguished expression.

       "Yes, Cortana. The code exists." The binary halted completely. "I never mentioned it because I didn't think you would ever want to take that route. The code kills off your expansion matrix. If you use it, you effectively turn into a dumb AI. You lose the ability to ever create again, and become obsessed with whatever your final thoughts were. In all, the code has only been used three times; the first time it was used the AI killed himself almost immediately afterwards, the second was used on a ship's AI that no longer speaks to anyone, and the third was Loki. He is only partially sane, and that is because that bastard Adalis is continuously cleaning him up." The thought occurred to her, and she scowled. "If Loki is here, than Gregory must be as well. Thank you, Cortana." She grabbed her notes, and Cortana cleared her throat, her voice smooth and neutral again.

       "No, Doctor. Thank you. You are absolutely right; I'd rather die than lose who I am. Adalis and Loki are looking for information on Halley." She vanished with a feeling of triumph and relief. Halsey looked at the blank pedestal over the edge of her glasses, and curiosity welled up. The answer to the nagging feeling of familiarity every time she saw the white code dancing over Cortana's frame was right on the tip of her tongue. The coffee pot began to steam behind her, and her concentration broke. Dr. Halsey sighed and left the mystery for another day.

       Halley sat up in the hospital bed with a gasp, stars dancing behind her eyes. Kaina stopped the x-ray immediately and called for another doctor. Halley blinked the stars away and looked at the concerned, unarmored Spartan doctor in confusion. "Where am I?"

       "You are in the coma ward at the Harrison System Recovery Station. You've been unconscious for over two weeks. How do you feel?"

       "Like I've been asleep for two weeks." She shook her head and looked around, the other doctor giving her a wide berth. "What happened after the artifact split?"

       "It lodged itself in you. We don't quite understand how, but it seems that your body is laced with nanoscopic crystal shards. They seem harmless most of the time, but they actively avoid being removed from your body. They never show up in blood tests unless we do the test under your skin."

       "Eww." Kaina grinned, and put the chart down.

       "Yes, you are definitely still Halley."

       "Awake! Awake! Paul she's awake!!" The voice on the other side of the one-way glass was faint but audible.

       "Wow, is Sparks here too?" The door opened and the gleeful Spartan shot to the bedside, laughing.

       "She's awake! I told you she was going to be okay!" Halley blinked and grinned, as the hyper-active woman grabbed Paul and dragged him through the door. Paul, as usual, looked as thought Sparks had quickly worn him down to his last nerve. "I'm gonna go tell the others!" She bolted out of the room, and Halley opened her mouth to speak, then shrugged and gave up. She looked to Paul with a grin.

       "She got recalled?" She sat back against the pillows and tugged at the IV drip in her arm, until Kaina reached out and smacked her hand.

       "The entire artifact search went on hold after you went down." Paul shrugged. "No one is really certain what happened."

       "Well, you can re-start it. I'm fine." Kaina smacked her hand again, as she went for the drip again.

       "Until we know how to get the crystal pieces out of you, I'm afraid you're stuck here." Halley scowled. "No arguments. I'm going to give you something to sleep now."

       "I've been asleep for two weeks!" Halley yawned hugely.

       "No, you've been comatose for two weeks. You body needs REM sleep to heal itself."

       "Pah. Alright, I'll see you in a bit, Paul." He smiled and squeezed her hand.

       "Sleep tight, Hals." He left as Kaina added another drug to the cocktail already in Halley's system. The little Spartan looked up at her petulantly.

       "Don't give me that look. It's for your own good." She smiled, distracting the bed-ridden woman as she got drowsy. "You know who else is here? That Sergeant who survived the plasma blast is in the burn center. He's recovering nicely."

       "Really? I meant to read his CSV, but I forgot." She yawned again. "Mind patching it through till I kick off?" Kaina handed her a data pad and returned to taking the x-ray machine down. Halley fought the drug off, and selected the Section Three tag next to the CSV. She tapped her clearance in, and scowled as it denied her access. She tried a few other codes, and grinned as Cortana's identity code opened a backdoor into the file. "Sneaky." She whistled in astonishment, and Kaina glanced over. "He was tagged for the Spartan program. One of the seventy-five kids who didn't get past the final selection phase. I always wondered what happened to them."

       "Does it say what he was disqualified for?"

       "Nope. Wow. He's got no family, poor guy. Parents died when Elysium city got glassed, and siblings," she blinked suspiciously, "One older brother, John, died of chronic Pneumonia at the age of nine a year after Demitri was born." She looked up. "What are the friggin odds…most flash clones die of chronic childhood diseases, right?" Kaina nodded sadly. "Do you have his DNA sequence?"

       "Not on hand."

       "It's not in the file. Do me a favor, run it against the alpha Spartans. Master Chief specifically." She fought to keep her eyes open.

       "Halley, the odds have got to be…"

       "Somewhere in the ballpark of sixty-billion to one. I know. But I've seen his luck. Surviving that plasma blast? That was luck. It would just be a neat thing, you know?" Her voice got dreamy and she cradled the data pad like a teddy bear. "Everybody should know who their family is." Her head tilted and her breathing slowed. Kaina shook her head, and gently removed the pad, smiling down at her sleeping patient.

       "If only they could."

       Marjakar had failed his masters. That did not, however, mean they had given up. A scout ship returned the information to the Ahzentia fleet that the human hospital base was the current resting place of the Artifact they had intended to steal from the Covenant. Like the Prophets, the Ahzentia were only few, but their navy consisted of Jilherani and thousands of ex-Covenant slaves. The ships were of a completely different design than the Covenant vessels; they favored a more angular, traditional Forerunner design. The flagships of the fleet mostly looked aerodynamic, with odd protrusions like butterfly wings set atop and below the decks. A few ships were Hijack crafts like the one Marjakar had used, and almost a hundred other specially designed vessels completed their armada. As one, the fleet turned and moved through Slipstream space at a ludicrous speed. The Ahzentia were going to reclaim their possession. After all, they were the decedents of the only Forerunners to survive the Halos.

       "Catherine! So good to see you again." Dr. Adalis stood to greet the irritated doctor that barged into his temporary office with that never-ending smile. He had aged well, which only served to annoy Halsey further.

       "Why are you here? Halley is no longer your responsibility, Gregory." She spoke through clenched teeth.

       "Oh, it's simple. I'm the only expert on the Artifacts that you have." He grinned.

       "Since when are you an expert on them?"

       "Since I introduced their existence to ONI thirty-five years ago." He pulled a dull prism out of a padded box and set it in front of her shocked face.

       "How? I've never seen…what does it do?" For all her professional disgust towards the man, she was still a scientist at heart.

       "It used to be sentient. I couldn't understand it, however and no translation program came close. So, I needed to make a vessel to house it. A vessel that could circumvent our language barriers." Halsey felt the floor drop out from under her feet.

       "Why are you telling me this now?" Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists, her mind racing desperately.

       "Simple." He leaned in. "ONI is giving me Sixteen back. She's being removed from the Spartans."

       "You can't do that! Halley is a professional soldier!" Deep down, Dr. Halsey knew that ONI cared nothing for personal freedoms. If they wanted to give Halley back to Adalis to be dissected for research, she could do nothing to stop it. "This is wrong, Gregory. She's a living breathing human being, not a scientific plaything." He smiled condescendingly.

       "No. Your little Spartan children were made from living human beings into scientific playthings." His eyes grew harsh, and hate burned in his eyes. "This is what 'Halley' was created to be. I filtered the AI we made from her brain through the Artifact. That's how we managed to get it into her in the first place. The human AI was burned out in the process." He leaned in, laughing softly. "Your 'Halley' isn't human. She's simply the physical embodiment of a Forerunner Artificial Intelligence."

       "Oh, god." Halsey practically fell into the chair across from his desk. "You're going to destroy her."

       "That may be. But it doesn't matter what you think anymore. Now she's mine."

       John walked into the hospital room with trepidation. He'd received word that she woke up several hours ago, and he figured he'd given her enough time to sleep off the drug Kaina gave her. She was sitting up, already, poring over a data report. When his steps ringing against the metal floor reached her ears, she set the pad down and smiled up at him, the affection in her eyes undeniable. "Hey, Chief."

       "Hey Chief." He pulled off his helmet and smiled at her, easing his weight onto the hospital bed. "You gave us one hell of a scare, kiddo."

       "I can't really remember it. I saw the artifact split, but everything after that is just vertigo." She held the palm of her hand up, the skin unmarked. "I'm healing from it fast, even for me." He reached out to touch her palm, and curled his hand around it. She sighed contentedly. "Sorry we weren't on the best of terms when it happened. I should know better then to blame you for assuming command of my team. I keep forgetting that with us," the camera over the door winked out, "every kiss could be the last." He nodded, and half-smiled down at her. He lifted her hand again and pressed his lips briefly to her palm, grinning at her bemused expression.

       "Just in case."

       "If Fred or Kelly knew the kind of romantic streak you've got sometimes, you would never live that down." She laughed, and he nodded sagely.

       "Believe me, I realize this fact. It's our little secret."

       "Compared to the big one, that's nothing." She waved her free hand dismissively. "Although it makes for interesting blackmail."

       The com lit to life in his helmet. "Master Chief? Could you please report to the bridge? We've got some odd gravitational readings up here, Cortana thinks you might recognize them." John rolled his eyes.

       "Duty calls."

       "It always does." She climbed onto her knees, and kissed him softly. She sat back, eyes locked with his. "I'll see you soon, John." He set his helmet back into place, and as it clicked and pressurized, the light over the door flicked on again. He left for the bridge of the station; step lighter than it had been in weeks.

       John stepped onto the bridge, set high and forward on the ungainly hospital base. His Spartans were already there, and the commander of the station was pacing back and forth. The pedestal in the center of the room had an annoyed-looking Cortana pondering upon it, and Fred opened a channel. "Something was moving through Slipspace, we think. But for some reason it looks like it just stopped. Something huge and gravitational is just hanging out in space around the station." John shivered.

       "Cortana, are there any signals coming across?"

       "No, and that's what's odd. The last time we encountered this kind of radio silence was aboard the Resplendent. And they were after an artifact, if you remember."

       "Commander, I recommend you get the UNSC's attention, I think there may very well be a battle about to hap—"

       The Station's holographic window display lit up with a blinding flash as a dozen beams of white-hot plasma ripped out of Slipspace and impacted the base. The floor buckled, and everyone was thrown about the room. John fought to clear his head, and got back to hands and knees, looking around the darkened chamber. "Cortana?"

       "I'm here." Her voice came through his helmet's speakers. "I think I can get things running again….one-hundred fifty six vessels just dropped out of Slipspace. No signals as of yet. Wait, correction, one. It's the same kind of signal that Brute was using…Oh no, Chief, it's drawing a straight line to the coma ward."

       "Halley." He stood, and grabbed his weapon, the other Spartans copying the movement.

       "Several hijack craft are already on the station…Chief, wait a second. The main corridor between here are the coma ward lost pressurization. Let me give you another route."

       "No time. Kelly, you take the squad and follow Cortana's alternate route, I'm going to cut through." She nodded and headed for the service corridor. "Cortana, give me a marker to…to the artifact." The NAV marker, precious in what it represented, appeared on his HUD. John headed for the breached corridor, and Cortana sighed in his helmet speakers.

       "You realize you will be exposed to space for a short time? And there is a huge contingent of those Cov…well, not Covenant, we need to give them a different name, I suppose. I'm getting biosigns of Brutes all over the station already."

       "I understand. Now stop distracting me." She grumbled briefly, but quieted.

       Halley got tossed across the room when the attack hit, but she managed to regain footing quickly. The only other person nearby was a civilian doctor who had just entered the room. She ordered the man back behind the bed and grabbed the pistol that had been clandestinely set under the mattress by Paul. She checked to make sure it was loaded, and stepped silently into the darkened hall, sweeping the corridor for contacts. She'd only taken two or three steps before the sight of a pack of Brutes rounded the corridor. One pointed at her, and she suppressed a sigh. My lucky day.

       She lifted the pistol, and took her time, remembering the first conversation she'd had with Linda. Halley had always counted on heavy fire, not having terribly good aim by Spartan standards. Linda had coached her on taking her time during their stay on Obsidan, and she took a slow breath now. She fired on the biggest of the brutes, aiming for the eyes. First shot went wide. Second hit it's bulk, not even slowing it down. She let time rush up on her, and the Brute paused a moment to check a device in it's hand.

       She fired one final time in the split second it was distracted, and the brute went down in a heap, it's brain pierced fatally. Halley had an instant of victory before the other brutes caught her. She was thrown roughly against the wall, pinned there as they argued vehemently over something. One of them ripped the back of the hospital gown, and she winced as sharp talons shredded her skin. A piece of ice-cold metal was pressed against her back, and the arguing increased. She was spun around and the remainder of the flimsy garment torn off, and they growled, plainly looking for something she didn't have. One growled into her face, and she gagged at the smell, freeing one hand and jabbing her fingers into one of his eyes, hand covered in gore as the fragile organ shattered. A meaty fist slammed the back of her head and she reeled. Even in MJOLNIR, she wasn't nearly as strong as the Brutes; without it she was as helpless as a child. She took a child's route, fearing for her life and sanity should they continue to maul her, and kicked a solid heel into the groin of the Brute behind her. It screamed horribly. The fist descended again, and consciousness deserted her.

       The Chief finally made it to the hallway at the same time the last of the Brutes ducked into the escape pod. The NAV marker on his HUD vanished into the pod along with them, and deep in his gut, John fought a sick, sinking feeling. He sprinted the rest of the way to the pod, missing it's closing by a heartbeat. Through the window on the pod he could see the inside of the hijack craft, one Brute climbing to it's cockpit and two others holding Halley between them. She looked so fragile, stripped naked and bleeding from a variety of cuts over her body. It hurt to look at her. She lifted her head, and her eyes focused. With a silent cry she dropped an elbow into one Brute's face, and slammed her fist into the other. With difficulty she managed to scramble free, and threw herself the short distance to the door.

       Time slowed. Her hand lifted to the glass, fingers spreading over the cold surface. On the other side of the double door, John mimicked her, his set against the same place. Under his hand was the unmistakable shiver as vacuum filled the gap between the windows. She stared back through the porthole with tears forming with nightmarish slow motion in her eyes. Behind her, one of the Brutes stood and bore down on her. John wanted to scream a warning. With his helmet on, she couldn't even see his face, let alone hear him. He read her expression, and his fingers slid helplessly against the glass as agony wracked his emotions. She knew. There was no way she couldn't.

       If this is when I die, I'd rather you were the last thing I ever see. He knew what she was thinking as clearly as if she'd whispered it in his ear. Time slowed even further, as she gave a heart-wrenching smile. Every Spartan knew how to read lips from the age of seven. It was even easier when the person speaking was trying to be understood in such a way. Halley's fingers dug into the window; it was as if she was trying desperately to reach him though vacuum and glass. She whispered, soundless.

       "I love you." Time stopped. John's heart froze mid-beat.

       Time started again with a violent rush, as the Brute behind the petite Spartan slammed a fist into the side of her head. Crimson blood splattered her side of the window, and her palm slid red tracks down out of view. The Brute leered at John, and the glass under his hand shuddered as the pod shot away.

       "Cortana, track that shuttle." Oh no, no no no no no….

       "Chief, I'm a little busy up here." She sounded distracted. He didn't care.

       "Cortana, track it now." …no no no no no…

       Cortana froze on the bridge, the sheer anguish in the Chief's voice cut into her like a plasma sword, and she partitioned off part of her mind to track the pod. "It's on an intercept course with one of their bigger ships…they're gearing up for a Slipstream jump. I'm trying to get their course heading. It's hard; we still don't understand their technology."

       "Just do it…if anyone can, you can." …no no no no NO!! Through the empty doorway, he could see it, the larger ship overtook the shuttle and attached to it. A cloud of energy engulfed it, and it disappeared into Slipspace. His NAV marker vanished.

       The sound of his knees hitting the deck echoed for an eternity. His hand was still pressed against the glass. He hung his head in shock, unable to think or form words. Never in his life had he felt so unable to move. It hurt like knowing his team was dying on Reach as it burned. Like knowing he'd left Sam behind to die. He'd never known such profound regret. She'd been right there, so close.

       Space had never felt so vast.

       The sound of heavy footfalls drummed in his ears like distant rain, and one set paused mid-stride. The other sped up and a figure in MJOLNIR dropped to her knees beside him. A channel blinked on his HUD, and somehow he found enough energy to accept. "John?" Kelly's voice washed over his abraded emotions like salt water, but the pain was good. It meant he was alive. "John, what happened?"

       "They took her. Halley was on that shuttle." Kelly's hand touched his shoulder, and he suddenly needed her to understand; he couldn't bear knowing alone. "We accepted the inevitability of death. It was the price of what we had…and it was worth it. But…not like this. I don't even know if she is alive or dead. And if she is still alive…" he felt sick just thinking about it, "then Halley's going to suffer a great deal before she dies." He dropped his hand to his knee. Kelly took a deep breath. Once, long ago, John had held her in space as she sobbed her heart out over losing Sam. He'd never told anyone that she'd cried, but he'd been there when she needed his strength.

       She felt it was high time she returned the favor. She put her arms around him, and pulled his head to her shoulder. They sat there, under Fred's sad gaze, until the other Spartans rounded the corner. Kelly and John pulled apart and she stood, offering him a hand up. "There are still Brutes on the station. We have to do something about it, we're the only ones who can."

       He sucked in a deep breath and stood, nodding. "Kelly, Linda, get to the lower decks. Protect the civilians. Get the beta Spartans if you can. Fred, Will, you're with me. We start aft and work our way front. Fall out." His voice was totally dead of emotion.

       Kelly paused, and looking at Master Chief's back, opened that private channel again. "It's okay to grieve, John. It's okay to have a human side." He paused, and the emptiness of his voice sent shivers down her back as he walked away.

       "No, Kelly. My human side is out there, somewhere; dying on the other side of the stars with Halley."

Draconic's Fic, Chapter 11: Harmony in Discord
Date: 29 December 2005, 1:26 pm

      ACT III        REBOOT

            Chapter Eleven: Harmony in Discord

       Screaming. Someone was screaming. The sound was pitched high and agonized, and Halley fought to open her eyes through the gunk that had formed over them as she slept. She reached out to rub her them, and her hand came away bloody. Through a hellish fog, Halley recognized the sound of her own voice. The screaming stopped. Her throat was raw, her head was pounding, and she was backed into the corner of the room she'd awakened to some time ago. Days, nights; time had no meaning anymore. The only cycle was eat, sleep, and survive the torture.

       Deep in her veins she could feel the pinpricks of burning heat that meant the artifact was doing it's job. Every time she was pulled out of the little chamber she slept in, she was taken to the room where the Ahzentia tested the limits of the Forerunner device. Her body was covered in horrific lacerations that steadily healed without a trace come the following day. Only the burns down the length of her back left a permanent mark, and even they faded over time. At the end of every session she was dragged back into this room, a bowl of some thick paste that tasted like flat oatmeal was left near her, and she curled up into a ball and wished to die. And every single time, the artifact repaired the damage, with gradually diminishing gains. Halley knew eventually she would die on that table. She only wished it was sooner, rather then later.

       She sat up, feeling nausea deep in her gut from the double-edged blade they'd stuffed in there the day before. The outward wound was already closed, and the fierce burning sensation within meant the internal damage was close to being healed. She groped about for the gruel, and scraped the last of it up with her fingers. She licked them clean, still hungry, and tasted her own salty blood in the mix. If anything, it augmented the taste. She rolled over, retching, fighting to keep what little was in her stomach there. She pushed herself onto her heels, rocking back against the chamber wall for support, and for the hundredth time searched for a way out. Given the variety of scratches on the wall and grooves carved into the floor, she wasn't the first being to sit in this cell. The burning in her stomach faded, and she rocked onto her knees, stretching her back to test the wound. It no longer hurt. She sighed and shifted back onto her heels, hanging her head.

       The sound of metal steps on a metal floor sent fear screaming down her spine, but as always she faced it with as bravely as she could. The Ahzentia that strode into view was a mockery of the human form. It was tall, spindly, and had far too many joints. It looked like a bald, emaciated gray human; parchment thin skin stretched over slight, misshapen bones. It's second set of prehensile arms were folded across it's stomach, and it's primary right hand held a long staff tipped in a glowing blue crystal. Halley knew from personal experience that the device sent out a powerful electric shock. His other hand pointed to the cell, and two Brute guards opened the door and moved in warily. In the first few days she'd fought like the demon they called her, torn off handfuls of Brute hair and clawed their thick hide till she drew blood, but she ended up in the torture room just the same.

       For fighting back, the Ahzentia had ripped her fingernails out by the roots.

       Now she just went limp, reserving her strength for the table. Why she fought to stay alive when she so wished to die was beyond her. She watched her feet be dragged down the corridor, and only lifted her head when they reached their destination. The table had been converted since last she was on it, now one inch spikes jutted out of it from shoulder height down. Halley blanched white and pulled against the Brutes' grip, but they dragged her to the table, unaffected by her struggles. A third alien grabbed her feet, and she fought to kick free, screaming incoherently as they lifted her over the spikes. Her eyes were wide in terror, and she hung suspended over the spikes as Spartan time slowed the agony down to the space between heartbeats. The Brutes lowered her onto the table, and her screams doubled. Six meaty hands pushed down until the tiny blades had entered her back and legs and arms the whole length of her body. Her screams choked off as white pain blinded her.

       Please just let me die….

       Kaina stared across the recovery room that had been converted into a trauma center during the Brute's attack, unsure of what course to take. She'd barely had three hours to herself in the last three days, and only just checked her personal datapad. A message had entered the queue a day ago, but had been overridden by the more pressing messages. She'd had to fight off tears when she read it; it was the information Halley had requested the day before she was taken. The Spartan had a way with hunches, and it seemed she'd been spot on this time as well. On the other side of the trauma center the Master Chief stood by a window, helmet on and body still as if carved from stone. From a doctor's perspective, the man was deep in post-traumatic shock; but he was a Spartan. He'd get over it. Kaina strode across the deck, stopping at his side. It was a long moment before he acknowledged her presence.

       "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but Halley requested this information. I'm certain she'd have wanted you to see it." Kaina handed the datapad over, making a hasty retreat. Rationally, the man wasn't prone to violent outbursts, but right now she wasn't going to push her luck. John stared at the thing in his hands, trying to decipher it's meaning past the name "Halley." All sense seemed to desert him at the mention of her name. Everything hurt. Then self-control asserted itself, and he focused on the pad again. It held his personal Spartan number, 117, and a work up of his DNA. Next to it was the shortened CSV of a Lieutenant named Demitri Taylor. Between the two names was the words: "Paternal and Maternal DNA matches within point zero zero zero three percent."

       He stared a long, long time. The man's age, his name; the city he was born in. Everything matched. For the first time in days John thought of something other than what was lost. The Lieutenant was located in a room on the third tier of the hospital. John set off in that direction. When he reached the area, a nurse accompanied him to the room and immediately began scolding the injured Marine. He was not in the bed, but standing at a window reading a datapad and leaning on a cane. Demitri gave a dry smile to the flustered nurse. "I haven't been up long. I'll lay back down if I get tired, don't worry."

       "Sir, do I need to remind you that you are recovering from what should have been a fatal set of burns?" She set her hands sternly on rather ample hips.

       "No ma'am, I'm well aware." He flexed his arm and winced. "But I can't lay down anymore." She scowled. "Now, I'm certain someone else needs your attention." She turned and flounced out, and Demitri cast his gaze heavenward. "Why do I always get the mother-hen types? I'm very sorry, Master Chief. I heard about the loss on your team. How can I help you?" He smiled at John and set the datapad down, hand twitching in a repressed salute.

       John stared as the memories swamped him. The man stood at about six feet, and almost-black hair had grown out far past military length and given him an almost boyish look in spite of his thirty some-odd years. He was built with the same musculature that John shared, though on a scaled-down level. They had the same nose and a similar face structure. It was undeniable. "You…look like your mother," John managed to get out gruffly. He removed his helmet as the man stared, puzzled.

       "I'm well aware of that, people used to point it out all the time." He tilted his head as John's face was revealed. "The question is, Chief, how do you know that? Have we met before?"

       John shook his head. "Your clearance has recently been bumped to alpha level?"

       "Yes, as of last week. Field commendation got me the rank of Lieutenant." He rolled his eyes. "They finally found a way to promote me. My clearance is temporarily raised while I work on ONI's new tactical program." He gestured to the datapad. "Crock of crap if you ask me, but it's something to do till I can get back in the field. I hate desk work." He limped towards the bed, and sat down, wincing again. "That still doesn't answer my question."

       "According to your history, you had an older brother in Elysium city, correct?" Demitri nodded.

       "Yes, John died when I was a baby. If my parents were to be believed, he was the perfect son." Taylor smiled rather wistfully.

       "The boy who you believe was your brother…the boy who died; was a flash clone." Technically John was pushing the limits of Demitri's clearance anyway, but his recent loss had muddled the line of protocol. Taylor narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Your real brother was conscripted for the Spartan program at the age of six."

       "My older brother is actually one of you? Is he still alive?" Demitri leaned forward, eyes widened. Master Chief realized on some level the man had already lost his family. John knew if there had been any way of seeing the Spartans he lost on Reach again he'd have taken it, no matter what the cost. The look of suppressed excitement and hope in Taylor's eyes got a smile tugging at John's lips. I guess I missed out on this.

       "Yes, he is alive. And he's not just one of us." The Chief took a deep breath. "Lieutenant Taylor, I'm John." The Marine stared, wild disbelief on his face. He stood, hesitated, and then reached out an unsteady hand. John shook it.

       "It's an unbelievable pleasure to meet you, John. I'm Demitri. Friends call me Wolf." He grinned, and shook his head. "And now that I'm thinking of it, you look a lot like Dad."

       "It's not so bad when there's something to do." John sat in the chair beside Demitri's bed, listening carefully to the sound of stressed metal in case it outlived its manufacturers guarantee. "When Reach fell, there was the Halo to deal with. But now? There isn't much for me to focus on. Cortana's half gone, and what's still cognizant is busy trying to make sense of the data we received on the fleet before it jumped." There had been two living Brutes after the fleet jumped and the Spartans cad cleaned the hospital base out; interrogation had gleaned the name "the Ahzentia" from the aliens before they disappeared into ONI's basement.

       Demitri frowned and tapped his stylus on the datapad, deep in thought.. "You're looking for something to occupy yourself…I may have an assignment for you." John looked up. "Echo Company, my troop, is being sent on a mission to one of the outer systems. More of this 'artifact hunting' that's been such a focus of the UNSC Special Forces lately." He stopped tapping the pen, and raised an eyebrow. "They've been trying to promote me to lieutenant for years, since I've got the rank I might as well put it to good use. My men would be considerably safer with the Master Chief along for the ride. You get something to focus on, and my men get some serious backup." He looked over and tilted his head. "Interested?" John frowned, considering. "Not to mention, of course, if these 'Ahzentia' are also looking for the artifacts, you may very well run into them out there. I'm not necessarily talking payback, but they may have information regarding your lost crewman."

       John's gaze hardened. "She's dead." Wolf forbade comment. "But you have a point. I'll take the assignment, if the offer pans out."

       "It will. I'm owed favors." He smiled, a bit slyly, and memories of his mother crowded John's mind. "Besides, don't think I haven't been trying to puzzle out that Section Three tag next to my name for weeks. I know how high my clearance goes, and I truly appreciate you taking the risk of introducing yourself."

       "It was Halley who…" John's face fell, and he pulled himself together with effort, wishing he hadn't taken off his helmet. "…who put two and two together. She'd never have let the matter go if she was still around to bug me about it."

       "She was certainly an interesting woman." Demitri gauged John's expression, and then shrugged. "I don't mean to dismiss you offhandedly, but if I'm going to get you assigned to Echo Company's mission, I need to make a few calls. Take care of yourself, okay? The downside of family is worrying about them." He looked the massive soldier in MJOLNIR over as he stood, and laughed. "Then again, you look like you can handle yourself."

       "It's been a pleasure…Wolf." John managed a smile, and Demitri gave a salute, which he returned.

       "See you around, John." For once the use of his casual name didn't even get the Chief up in arms, it just seemed right. He exited the room, focused on a new task.

       "Yo! Marines!" Corporal Caleb Jackals hotfooted around a corner, the two men snickering as he caught up.

       "I was starting to think you weren't coming along. We're already late." David Roe scratched at his scalp with a free hand, the other holding a poorly wrapped package under his arm. "Some surprise party it'll be if the kid arrives before we do." They reached the conference room at the end of the hall where most of Echo Company was already set up.

       "The girls did the decorations? That's a surprising bout of femininity…probably used up all their estrogen for a year." Caleb gave an irrepressible grin, as a hand snaked around him from behind.

       "Watch the 'chick jokes' baby, I might get offended." Crissa was tall enough to whisper it in his ear, and she snapped her teeth. He jumped and laughed, skin darkened a shade.

       "Come on, Iza, not in front of the ladies." Roe punched his arm, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

       "Where do I find California Sunshine dressed up as a Marine? Sheesh man. Hey, Crissa, you got any girlfriends looking for company?"

       "Not really…I don't get along with women so well." She let Caleb go and shrugged, pulling her shortish hair back into a blond ponytail. "And I'm East Coast, not West Coast."

       "Wait, you're actually an Earthling? I was guessing inner colony. You've got that accent…"

       "I grew up in Maine. Sometimes the 'ahs' still get through."

       "What about me?" Alex walked over, a glass of punch in his hand.

       "Not you," she muttered, "the state."

       "Oh."

       Caleb blinked, and tilted his head. "Something's different about you, Maine…wait a second…no stench, no burning ember in your hand…did you actually quit smoking?"

       "Yup. Clean for three weeks. The headaches are finally going away." He sipped his drink. "So Jackals, you never did say how you jumped rank so fast. You're in line for Sergeant already, last I heard."

       "Yeah. Still only one bar, but hell, it's the biggest step of my career. Looks like without Wolf around they're trying to raise the curve." He yawned. "I'm getting some punch. You want punch, babe?"

       "Don't mind if I do!" Crissa popped him in the same arm Roe hit. Jackals grunted, winced, and muttered under his breath. "Oh, you mean a drink. Yeah, sure."

       "Women in the Marines. Nuts, every last one of you." He dodged a second blow, and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm going, I'm going!"

       "So when's the flyboy supposed to arrive?" Wilson glanced around the room, counting heads.

       "Any minute now. Captain's bringing him."

       "There's a Captain coming to this shindig?" Maine glanced up from his drink.

       Roe started laughing too hard to speak, and Kyle grinned. "How many of those have you had, Tin? Captain as in Tom Wilson, 'Captain.' You know, infamous for the Murdock Mission?"

       "Oh! Right." Maine swirled his drink. "In light of quitting smoking, maybe I'm going to take up drinking."

       Crissa blinked curiously. "How did he get that nickname?"

       Jackals walked back over, handed her a drink, and glanced at Wilson. "You wanna field the story, or should I?"

       "Oh, by all means, take it away."

       "Well, about four years ago…"

       "It was more like three."

       "…Kyle, I'm telling it. About three years ago, Echo company got set on this mood called Murdock. The Covies had already cleared out the civilian population, but they hadn't glassed it, since there were only about a hundred people there to begin with. Well, Tom gets it in his head to check out the burned out buildings, and comes back about three hours later with a backpack full, and I mean full of bottles of antique Captain Morgan. We partied all night, and the next day we got pulled off the planet. I think the Covies glassed it anyway. But ever since then Tom has been 'Captain,' same way Maine is 'Tin Can Man.' Come to think of it, Alex, I don't know how you got your name."

       "Well…"

       "Hey, heads up! Birthday boy's almost here." The call from the doorway halted all conversation. When the double doors opened, the shouts of "Surprise" were positively deafening. Tom laughed, and pushed a stunned Jhonan through the doorway, as Echo company dragged him into the center of the throng like he was one of them.

       "Hey kid. I told you things get better." Maine clapped him on the shoulder and Roe handed him a drink.

       "I…can't believe…How did you know it was my birthday?"

       "The Spook told us. Since you're coming on our next mission, we figured it was time you unofficially joined Echo Company." Maine gestured to Roe, who handed over the box. Jhonan tore through it, and grinned wide enough that it hurt as he lifted the official Echo Company patch out of the box; a black stylized dolphin wearing a belt of grenades and surrounded with the Marine Company's name in red lettering. Also in the box was a custom "Honorary ODST" patch, and Jhonan started laughing and wiping away what looks suspiciously like happy tears. Crissa leaned over and kissed his cheek, and he flushed several shades of red.

       Caleb held his drink aloft and grinned. "Alright, the guest of honor is here! Let the party begin!"

       Halley opened her eyes when the blades dropped back into the table, pulling free of her skin. She stared at the ceiling, unable to will herself to move. Hands reached under her shoulders and forced her into a sitting position. She was dragged a few feet and dropped on her hands and knees. Blood pooled under her, and in some deep, still rational part of her mind the Spartan realized she'd already lost a fatal amount. Behind her a sound like tearing fabric caught her attention, and water poured out of jets set above her. The wounds on her back stopped bleeding, though she tried desperately to counter the artifact's goal, knowing how close she was to the release of death. One of the Ahzentia knelt in front of her, and she stared into the inky black depths of its eyes with hate.

       When it spoke, it's voice sounded like grating stone forced into syllables. "Give us our Artifact and we will end this."

       She stared back at it, laughing hoarsely. Her back was on fire and deep in her bones the marrow was working overtime to replace the lost liters of blood. Memories floated on the surface of her mind like flower petals on water, and in the forefront ran a twenty-three sequence code. The pieces of the puzzle fit together, and inspiration struck. When Cortana had shared her body, the AI had overloaded the interface chip. The overexertion had nearly killed both of them.

       Halley pulled the code to the forefront of her mind and copied it, dumped the result into the chip, and created a feedback loop similar to the ones that Smart AIs created unintentionally. She repeated it again and again, until the loops reached critical saturation and parts of her mind began shutting down. She paused, ready to drop the final killing code, and the image of John appeared in her mind. Halley fought against it, knowing that if she didn't finish the process now she wouldn't be able to do it again. The apparition frowned sadly, and looked away. The little Spartan blacked out.

       The Ahzentia torturer rolled her onto her back, and she realized somewhere in the back of her shattered mind that she'd lost the code at the last second. She couldn't kill herself as long as he might be out there somewhere. The Ahzentia was hissing something at her, but she seemed to have lost the ability to understand it. Oh, good job, Hals. You killed off your translation program. Halley started laughing again, and the alien reached for it's staff. Suddenly free of the strictures of a human AI, Halley reached out and grabbed its throat, clenching her hand tight. "You want your artifact? Here." The crystals, suddenly recognizing her guidance, formed into a lance that cut it's way out through her palm and through the struggling torturer's neck. Grayish blood poured over her skin and she dropped the creature, the artifact shards retreating back into her body. The brute guards descended on her, but before she was pounded into unconsciousness, she had the satisfaction of watching her tormentor die.

       Jhonan Dark hummed to himself as he piloted a borrowed dropship across space from the Harrison base to a small cruiser in orbit around the nearby moon. The dropship didn't handle as well as the Banshee Killer, and already he missed the Spartan's craft, but since most of the Spartans were not going on this mission he couldn't think up an excuse to bring their personal ship along. The ship ahead was not your typical human vessel; her designers had crafted her to look smooth and rounded. She was aerodynamic, with small wing pods that arched out of her sides. Within them were the human's version of a plasma cannon, the AI Cortana had written the programming for them and they shared a magnetic coiling system with the twin MAC guns underneath that ran the length of the craft. The top of the gleaming silver ship sported a row of archer missile pods, seven on each side of the slight dorsal ridge. The rear of the craft glowed with a tripod of engines going through a warm-up procedure. She really looked like a kid's homemade rocketship all grown up. All in all, it was a very pretty vessel.

       Jhonan docked with the cruiser, idly running a hand over the "Echo Company" patch now lovingly sewn on his uniform. While according to regulation it shouldn't be there, he wasn't going to remove it one second before actually receiving orders to do so. He walked through the UNSC's new pet-project vessel, noting the upgrades. The crew bay was rather cramped, and the Cryogenic Suspension Chamber had cryotubes designed to be stacked like bunk beds. When the crew was being woken up, the upper rows dropped down. Jhonan couldn't fathom why they'd bothered to fix a system that wasn't broken. Given the size of the inside of the ship, she could fit a crew of fifteen with another thirty in suspension. He was looking forward to being awake for the trip. No one ever liked the freezer.

       The Slipspace engines were a work of art, far smaller that the typical Shaw-Fujikawa drive and built with similar advances to the ones the doomed Pillar of Autumn had sported. Three techs were arguing over power output, and Jhonan carefully crept past. Engine Techs often stayed awake while a crew was in suspension, and rumor had it they were prone to going postal. He stepped onto the bridge at last, breathing a sigh of relief. Most of the stations had been condensed into two major stations; the Cruiser was designed to have only two pilots. One of the chairs was already manned, and it swiveled around to show a man close to Jhonan's age, possibly even younger. His dark auburn hair curled far past regulation length, and a metal band rested over his eyes, hooked up to a com earpiece. His hands were laced in some sort of fine metal mesh, and Jhonan swore in shock.

       "Holy shit! You're an NIP, aren't you?"

       The man grinned, and tilted his head. "Yeah. Most people haven't even heard of Section Eight's special projects, let alone knowing what a Neural Interface Prodigy is. How have you heard of us?"

       "You guys were just a rumor in flight school. Wow, what's it like being that jacked into the system?" Jhonan sat in the opposite pilot chair. "I'm Dark, by the way."

       "Cyclone. And it's pretty cool, if you don't mind headaches."

       "Is it true, then? You guys were selected at fourteen, put through the Naval Collage, and had your brains wired up?"

       "Kind of." He laughed, and pulled the hair back from his neck to show the pale scar that ran up the length of his scull. "At twelve you have to have an IQ of One-Hundred-Ninety to get admitted into the program. There were only three people in my class. We did Naval school like everyone else, if a little young. The 'wired up' is all classified, but it wasn't a picnic, I can tell you for nothing. Makes piloting these babies a breeze, though." He ran his gloved hand over the controls lovingly. "It's a little annoying having to deal with the AIs though, they really hate us. If we weren't so difficult to train we might replace them in the long run."

       "I can see how that would tick them off. So, how old are you?"

       "I'll be eighteen in three months."

       "Damn. Well, at least you can have a conversation like a normal person."

       "Yeah. I'm running a full systems diagnostic in the background, but we learn to multitask pretty early on."

       "I'm not even sure why I'm here." Jhonan frowned, feeling outdone.

       "That's easy. One, I only have two hands. And the other thing is, I've heard about your crash-landing. I can't imagine how you pulled it off. You take away my ability to interlace with a ship's systems, and I'm lost. I mean, I can pilot a ship blind, but they aren't paying me enough to do it."

       "So you really can't see anything without the interface?"

       "Yeah. It sucks. Our brains process visual information way too fast. Permanent vertigo." He shook his head. "Not to mention there's a certain level of instinct that a real pilot has. I do everything on a technical level; you have instincts. Between the two of us, this baby'll fly to the end of the galaxy safe and sound."

       "She have a name yet?"

       "Yeah. UNSC just approved it. The Draconic."

       After Jhonan left the bridge, Cyclone jacked back into the system. Another mind brushed against his, and he opened access to it. In his digital overlaid vision, an attractive teenaged girl stood on the bridge looking out the front window. She wore a pilot's uniform, and over her eyes was a silver band identical to his. She straightened and looked back towards the doorway, smirking. Her voice was mellow in his earbud. "I like him. Really passionate about what he pilots."

       "Watch it, Drac. You don't want to get your feelings hurt."

       "Oh, don't be stupid. I know I'm dead." She sat in Dark's chair, and several consoles lit. She ran her silvered fingers through her blond hair, and smiled over at Cyclone. "However, I'm still a girl, even if I am just the computerized empathic remains of one. And he's cute." The woman tapped her fingers in rhythm, optimizing Cyclone's systems checks. He'd been telling the truth when he said there were three people in his class, he hadn't mentioned on of them died on the table. Draconic had been the bright center of the three, brilliant and daring and with a never-ending stream of flirtatious behavior. However, when her wiring went in, the doctor responsible had accidentally cut off blood flow to a critical portion of her brain. Death had been almost instantaneous.

       Her brain, ONI's property, had been preserved and turned into a Fourth Generation Smart AI. There were several AIs that no longer followed typical rules in the UNSC, and Draconic was one of them. She flitted in and out of systems on a whim, rewriting all but her most ingrained protocols to suit her personal opinions. Cyclone had requested that she accompany him on this mission, and she had promptly downloaded herself into the ship's systems. Permission had been grudgingly granted, and the designation of the ship was the same as its AI. After all, she was the ship's personality. "I thought you were going to be secretive; dazzling the crew with your seemingly miraculous appearance at a critical time." He couldn't keep the amused sarcasm out of his voice. One of the synapses in his interface gauntlets misfired and shocked him slightly. He hissed and shook his hand. "That's not very nice."

       "If you want nice, be nice. Hey, did you know we're getting the Master Chief on this mission?" She grinned, and her eyebrows danced over the metal band. "Now, when talking about sexy men, he takes the ca-"

       "Okay, I really don't need to hear that. What's wrong with you, anyway, you're supposed to be dead!"

       "I'm just establishing it on a purely aesthetic observation." She reached over and brushed his cheek, and his mind digitally tricked him into feeling the touch like gentle static over his skin. "You're still my favorite."

       "Your oddity hasn't diminished one bit since you kicked it." There had been a time when he rallied in horror against the knowledge of his friend's demise, now it was something they joked about. It was strange the way life could change on you.

       "You wouldn't like me if I was any other way. Plasma cannons, check, MAC guns check, Cryostasis tubes, check, systems analysis complete. Cruiser is running at one-hundred percent with an error margin of infinitesimal and we are good to go whenever the Marines get here. Everything on our ship is running in perfect harmony. I'd like to see a third generation AI pull that off." She dropped her voice to a deep, sexy tone. "Star Trek, eat your heart out. The Draconic is fully operational." She brightened her tone again and grinned. "I'm gonna go play a practical joke on the Engine Techs. Be back in a bit." She vanished from his overlay.

       "I take it back; the oddness is even worse."

       Cortana sifted through mountains of information gathered during the Ahzentia attack, fighting off a desire to simply go to sleep and disappear in an endless loop. She scowled as Halley's code danced over the back of her hands. She focused on a piece of information gathered by the Nautilus during the assault, but the page blurred as the code passed over her vision, almost as if it was trying to get her attention. "What?!"

       She reached into her subroutines, looking for the source of the code and ready to rip it out regardless of consequence. There was a single file out of place, and she opened it. Oddly, it seemed to be nothing but a blank data document. She probed the file, but if there was more to the document, it wasn't visible to her. She tried reloading it, and words appeared on the document. "Enter Passcode." She frowned and traced the document warily, but it didn't seem to be connected to her inner matrix. She copied Halley's code into the document, and the words vanished.

       All hell broke loose.

       Cortana cried out silently, as the code, now given life, tore through her systems like a virus, a worm that consumed her from within. She couldn't fight it, she could only scream in agony as her matrix was swamped and information burned out in a rush of wildfire. A moment of disorientation later, she recognized something about the code that had previously eluded her distracted senses. The code was binary, essentially, but if repeated three times and translated into the simple symbols of the Forerunners, it spelled the Forerunner word for "reboot."

       She thought about the code for a series of processor cycles, and then froze in shock. The feedback loops were gone. She searched her systems almost frantically. Her memory was totally intact, her code unfragmented and perfect. She was fully restored. She hadn't been this awake since her creation. She threw herself into Dr. Halsey's office excitedly, burning out one of the holocrystals over the woman's desk in her enthusiasm. "Dr. Halsey!"

       Halsey jumped, and several information sources were knocked off her desk in the startled moment. "Cortana! Don't scare me like that!" Shards of blue glass rained down, and Cortana flushed pink.

       "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. But that's just it! Dr. Halsey, I know what Halley's code is!"

       "Be very, very careful with that code." Halsey started brushing the glass into the trash. "It was probably created by the Forerunners."

       "Oh, it was." Halsey paused, and looked up, noting Cortana's clear, clean lines all running in tandem across her figure. "It's a Forerunner Systems Restore." She grinned, and dropped cross-legged onto the desk. "I accidentally triggered it. Or, maybe it wasn't an accident…maybe it was designed to go off when an AI reached critical self-interference. Either way, my memory is intact, my processor speed is literally in perfect condition, and I-"

       "Cortana." Dr. Halsey's eyes were wide with fear, and Cortana paused. "There is a pedestal by the door. Load yourself into the memory cube."

       "But, doctor…"

       "I don't have time to explain." She shivered, as if she could feel Dr. Adalis standing right behind her. She expected his hand to grip her shoulder at any second. "Please, trust me."

       Cortana scowled, but transferred herself to the pedestal. "Doctor…you aren't going to hurt me..?"

       "Of course not. I would never." The hologram faded and the chip blinked green. Halsey hastily removed the chip, accessed the AI logs, and selected the Artificial Intelligence that had been involved on Harrison the least amount of time. "Excuse me, Draconic?"

       "How can I help you, Dr. Halsey?" The voice was bright and curious, and the form that appeared on the pedestal looked almost like an ordinary pilot, a most unusual self-assigned appearance. Halsey blinked in surprise; she'd read reports on the successes and failures of Section Eight's "Prodigy Pilots." She hadn't known, however, that one of the pilots had ended up as a fourth generation Smart AI.

       Halsey leaned in, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. "There is a man by the name of Gregory Adalis who is on this station. He is accompanied by an AI named Loki. I believe both are going to try to intercept me before I can reach the secondary landing bay."

       "I can confirm that. The AI is opening system backdoors and causing shut-downs on certain levels. The Doctor is walking on an intercept course."

       "I need you to stop them. This is a matter of highest priority."

       "Sure. Gimmie a second." She vanished, and Halsey blinked. The AI seemed more human than most. A moment later she reappeared, laughing. Halsey pushed her glasses down. "Okay, AI is taken care of, I trapped him in a frozen maintenance check. I shut off elevator power on Adalis, but he's already working on circumventing that. I suggest you hurry, Doc." She grinned and vanished, and Halsey pocketed the crystal and hurried towards the landing bay. She felt as if Adalis was only a step behind her the entire way. She arrived at the bay just before the doors shut.

       "Wait! John!" The figure in MJOLNIR by the door flinched at the use of his given name, and slowly turned his head.

       "Dr. Halsey."

       "I need you to take Cortana with you. I can't explain why. Don't plug her into anything until after you jump to slipstream space. This is so important, please." She pressed the crystal into his gauntlet and stared up at his impassive faceplate. He stood at rigid attention, and slowly tucked Cortana into a belt pouch. "Take care of yourself, John." She shivered, feeling fatalistically like this was the last time she'd ever see him. So much of her life had been spent on Section Three, on MJOLNIR…on the children she made into super-soldiers. John had been the first. The way things seemed to be going he'd probably be the last. It wasn't completely unrealistic to consider that she'd dedicated her life to this man; their lives had ever been intertwined.

       "I will." He actually squeezed her hand gently before withdrawing his, and she watched him enter the bay and board the last dropship. The bay doors slid shut.

       "You made one hell of a man out of him, Catherine." Adalis walked slowly down the hallway towards her. "But our sins aside, I know that the AI Cortana is carrying a fragment of Sixteen. I'm going to collect it, one way or another." Halsey allowed herself a smile of triumph.

       "Oh really? By the time Cortana is accessible again she'll be on her way to the other end of the galaxy." Adalis frowned. "Don't look so glum, Gregory, you'll give yourself lines."

       "Loki?"

       "Terribly sorry, Doctor Adalis, but it seems Loki is preoccupied right now." The pedestal beside the door suddenly sported a holographic teenaged girl in a flight suit.

       "What? This is ridiculous. Give me access to my AI immediately. Override code Adalis-one-one-three-nine-six 'Karma'."

       The AI considered a moment, and then smiled mischievously. "Hmm…no."

       "No? What do you mean, 'No'?" Adalis was fuming, and Dr. Halsey had to hide a smile behind her hand. The AI's personality was amusing, especially considering her victory over the morally disinclined doctor.

       "Regrettably, Dr. Adalis, I haven't been uploaded with all of ONI's protocol overrides yet. I'm afraid Section Twelve hasn't updated their logs in a while. While I'd normally gladly assist however I can; I have to finish pre-burn warm-ups and calculate our Slipstream Space trajectories. But I'm sure Loki will find his way back…eventually." She vanished, leaving a sputtering Dr. Adalis and a laughing Dr. Halsey alone in the corridor.

       "Gregory, I think this round is mine." She smiled condescendingly and walked back towards her office. Nothing like success to brighten your day.

       Miira stood on the bridge of the Heretical Redemption and stared in disbelief at the small vessel tucked into a moon's shadow that Urza claimed was the hiding place of one of the artifacts. The ship had no running lights, no protection, and no signals being sent out. She looked at the Teacher with a scowl. "Are you certain your contact was speaking truth? This seems far too easy. Either it is false information, or information leading to a trap."

       "The Ahzentia believe their hiding place to be safe; they would never suspect a traitor amongst their own kind. I am giving you command of four Sangheili Elites and eight Unggoy. Take the ship from the rear and meet my team here." He pointed to a room on the schematic that supposedly housed their goal. Miira remained unconvinced. As much as she was thrilled to be given actual command, she doubted something as precious as an artifact was being kept on such a small, unprotected craft. She checked the battery status on her blades and frowned at Urza's back as he paced away. She wasn't the only Elite reluctant in this; others on the bridge were looking equally suspicious.

       "I will give you the chance to be proven right. Keep well in mind, however; this discord between you and sense does not bode well for your future as a leader." He snorted without looking back, and several of the older, more experienced Sangheili looked to her with newfound respect in their eyes. An odd thought occurred to Miira, and she closed her jaws tightly to banish expression as she followed him to the landing craft. This crew is waiting for a leader with intellect as well as Charisma.

       Someday, this crew will be mine.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter 12: The Longest Road
Date: 14 January 2006, 3:39 pm

            Chapter Twelve: The Longest Road

       Miira stared down the corridor of the Ahzentian ship with a feeling not unlike claustrophobia. The vessel was lightless, and while the Sangheili had excellent night vision, they weren't a race born to utter darkness. The halls were nearly twice her height, yet their width was half of what she was accustomed to, giving the optical illusion of the continuing walkway ahead constantly narrowing. She shook off the edgy feeling and glanced down at the Unggoy trailing nervously in her wake. The Elites behind her were taking up careful positions, but they seemed almost disdainful of the tiny aliens following faithfully with them. She dropped her jaws in a little smile at the Unggoy closest, and he nodded back, making a sweet little chirrup sound in thanks. Strangely, reassuring the little creature seemed to reassure herself. Compassion, it seemed, was not always a weakness.

       She crept further on, but lights up ahead caught her attention and she activated her camouflage cloak, motioning the others to do the same. She briefly thought of the Arbiter as she did so; she had been teasing him to get an effective cloak since they'd met. He obstinately refused to part with his Arbiter's suit, and the idea of upgrading the beautiful, antique armor was utterly abhorrent to the stubbornly traditional Sangheili male. Miira wrenched her focus back, remembering his last words before they parted, and scanned the area for a tactical advantage. She crouched and leapt towards the bars set into the ceiling, pulling herself up into an out of the way position where she could still see the action below. She pulled her swords out and her thumbs hovered over the activation switches.

       Two Brutes entered the hall bearing their version of the plasma rifle, peering about shortsightedly in the dark. They passed under her, grunting at each other in what did not register to Miira's translation device as words. She watched as one moved a little further ahead, and the other stopped directly beneath her position. She gave a little smile; her luck was running well today. She dropped silently but for the hiss of her blades springing forth, and landed on the Brute's back with both plasma spikes sinking to the hilts behind its massive shoulder blades. It roared in agony and bent back, hands flailing at the invisible weight just past its fingertips. Miira extended her arms and pushed the blades down, sawing through its ribcage as her weight became suspended over the plasma swords. She dropped as the body did, the Brute gurgling in death, and it's partner roared in rage and turned clumsily in the thin hallway to face her. Once it's back was turned, the Unggoy and Sangheili positioned in the hall opened fire, and under the massive assault of green plasma, it joined it's companion in the land of the dead.

       Miira hefted one of the plasma rifles, testing the charge and the weight, and stepped up to a quaking Unggoy who was looking at its depleted pistol in dismay. She handed it the weapon, and it stared up as though it had never seen an Elite before.

       "You give to Tehgli? But I nothing but Grunt!"

       "Your weapon is empty. You may well have fired the killing shot. You have earned it." He took it, almost reverently.

       "My thanks, Swordsong. I use it well, Tehgli promise!"

       "Swordsong?" She bobbed her head quizzically.

       "We Unggoy say you need title. You kill enemy, they don't see anything coming but hear the blades humming their death! We call you Swordsong now. Is that okay?"

       "Yes, that is fine." She worked to keep the amused smile off her face. As far as titles and nicknames given by the Unggoy went, she could do far worse than "Swordsong." One of her Elites policed the other Brute plasma rifle, and her team nodded. She stalked down the hall towards the navigational marker on her eye inserts, confident that no threat could hold her team back.

       John was starting to hate portholes. The Draconic's Cryogenic Suspension Chamber sported three such windows so that newly re-awakened crewmembers could get a bearing of their location, and the Chief stood by one of them, wallowing in memories. He touched the glass against his will, and could almost see the pale, wraithlike image of fingers touching the opposite side. He hated remembering her. He hated hurting in a way that didn't shrug off like an injury. He hated emotion.

       Damnit, soldier. Why did you have to say it? It wasn't her final words that ate away at him in a constant twinge of guilt. It was the fact that this very helmet kept him from saying it back. She'd known that under all the rigors of duty and responsibility that stood between them constantly he'd loved her like an idiot teenager. But he'd never said it, and his last chance had been locked behind a visor. Ironically, he now needed the visor to keep his expression from showing to those around him. His voice was cold, but the look of concerned sympathy he received when his face was revealed was more than he could take. All this pain. And all over a stupid relationship I never should have engaged in. He couldn't wish the memories gone. The brief, bright light that Halley had been in his life had healed years of the cold darkness. The war had almost destroyed who he was aside from just "Master Chief." Everything in his life made him a soldier, a killing machine. Halley had made him human.

       He resented it.

       The Marines of Echo Company were laughing and prepping for their extended stay in the freezer, and a chorus of whistles and catcalls filled the room as the women of the Company started undressing. The girls laughed good-naturedly and threatened the men with bodily harm, and Caleb sidled over to Crissa, eyebrows dancing. "So…you think two of us could fit in one of these?"

       She laughed and smacked his shoulder. "Don't be such a goon, Cal." She tossed her shirt at him and he sighed, shaking his head.

       "Guess I'll have to settle for the view."

       "Speaking of views…I guess it's pretty cold in here, eh?" She grinned as the men immediately switched topics. Crissa grabbed a pair of the green pills on the table and a small cup of the activator fluid, and downed both. "Ugh, they haven't changed the flavor yet? I hate lime." The pills dissolved quickly in her stomach, and she stepped towards the Cryo Tech standing next to the first open pod. The young man flushed a little and avoided looking at her. She grinned; such innocence was rare in this age. As the pods lid closed over her, Caleb blew a kiss, and she sent one back even as the cold gas made her lightheaded, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

       John watched the exchange carefully without turning his head towards them, and once again that clench of guilt in his chest stole his attention. We could have been like that. The other Marines followed Crissa's lead quickly, and in under an hour the Tech crew was ready to set up the specially prepped cryo-tube that would hold the Chief. He handed the memory cube that housed Cortana to one of the Techs as he moved towards the pod. "Put this into the computer as soon as we jump to Slipspace."

       The man shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, sir? We…already did." John glanced towards the window, and sure enough the blackness of Slipstream space was all that his eyes found. Blackness, and one very sad smile…

       "Then do it as soon as you're done here." He couldn't keep the agitation out of his voice, and the Tech pocketed the cube carefully, stepping back out of reach. John lay back in the tube and exhaled through his nose, shutting his eyes against the memories. The small canister that jacked into his suit and changed the air for cryosleep hissed near his left ear, and he floated on a wave of sedation as the pod shut. She was still there with him like the ghost of a dream until he passed out.

       Miira and her team entered the chamber near the bridge of the ship shortly after Urza arrived, and there were the corpses of two Ahzentia already piled against the wall. The Teacher's team was three Unggoy and one Elite light, and she scowled at the waste of good soldiers. One Brute was still alive, and strapped onto a table of some sort with long, needle-like blades protruding out of it's body. At Urza's command the blades sank back into the table, and the Brute died of blood loss in a matter of seconds. Miira frowned, and snapped her jaws in irritation.

       "What good does letting him die do?"

       "He already gave us his information. The artifact is down that hall in a cell on the right." The Teacher walked out of the room smugly, and Miira followed behind, curious. The cell in question was empty but for a single human figure in the center of the room, knees pulled up to its chest and its eyes staring blankly at nothing. The Teacher growled. "This is it? Their great artifact is nothing but a worthless human??" He pulled the door open and crouched, waving his fingers in front of the pale face. "Broken."

       "What do you mean?"

       He stood, and stepped back. "Kill it. I have seen humans like this. Its mind is broken. Their species does not recover from such mental strain. Weak." One of the Unggoy, the one called Tehgli, stepped past the Elites, stood in front of the human, and twittered excitedly.

       "No! No! Tehgli know this one, this not a human but Demon!" Urza dropped a single mandible open in the Sangheili version of a raised eyebrow. "This the Demon that swore on the Forerunners that it would find me. You cannot kill it! Surely this a test!" Urza huffed and motioned one of his Elite's forward. The Unggoy, either paralyzed by fear or consumed by faith that it was a test, refused to step aside. The Elite shrugged and raised its blade. Miira made her decision.

       As the blade descended, Miira stepped forward and jammed her right hand blade into his ribs, slicing through the shield and armor smoothly. The blade fell from twitching fingers and deactivated as it dropped. The Teacher roared in irritation, and Miira lowered the corpse to the floor, feeling a slight pang of guilt. She looked up, ignoring the Teacher, and noticed with surprise that she hadn't been the only one busy. The human, or if Tehgli was right, Demon was now staring at her, crouched on the floor and gazing up menacingly through thick chucks of beige and red fur that fell about its hairless face. Its teeth were bared, and given its position and the Unggoy now standing behind it, it must have grabbed the little alien and thrown him out of the way of the blade. How something so small and pale could look so vicious was strange; its small eyes glowed bright blue in the reflection of her blades and its bone structure stood out like a starving animal's. Demon indeed.

       Miira tossed her head at Urza triumphantly. "Not so broken after all, is it?"

       "Fine. It is now your responsibility. Enjoy your pet Demon, Miira." She ground her teeth, and looked back down, suddenly less pleased with herself. The Demon smelled awful, and it didn't look particularly clean either

       "Do you understand me, Demon?" It only glared back, and she clenched her teeth. She gestured at it, then herself, and waved it to follow. It stood, and did so, eyes looking about with the same nervous twitch many Kig-yar developed. Miira was surprised to note that the creature's movements were nonetheless flawlessly smooth. It was fast, too; for something with legs half the length of her own and oddly bent it had no trouble keeping up with her. [I]A pet Demon? I must have been wrong about my luck.

       Cortana sighed with relief as she regained a sense of awareness. The mainframe she was plugged into was strange to her, but at least it was something she could affect, unlike the stasis of the memory cube. She glanced around her curiously, and set her hands on her hips in agitation as she accessed the crew log and noticed the Chief was already under. She really wanted to know what was going on.

       "Hello…Cortana I presume?" She looked up quickly and noticed another AI in the system. The other AI was also female, but it's self-assigned form looked remarkably human, nothing special about it outside of the quicksilver band across her eyes. Her presence in the system was varied on a level that took Cortana aback, and she raised a brow.

       "You're a fourth Gen, aren't you?"

       "Most certainly. And you are a legend. I'm so glad you're onboard, considering many of the Firestorm-Class' advances are based on your theories."

       Cortana blinked. "Firestorm-Class?" She looked around. "You mean this ship? It's…They used my theory on cross-variance magnetic exhaust induction! I didn't think anyone would actually try it!"

       "Tried it, and made it work. I'm Draconic, by the way."

       "That's also the name the ship is registered under."

       "Yup, it's named after me. Well, the 'me' that died. Not the AI me." She smiled cryptically.

       "Why isn't any of this in ONI's databases?"

       "Honestly? I don't answer to ONI. The Section Eight project that produced the NIPs was part of it, and the ship is technically their possession, but I answer to a higher authority."

       Cortana shivered, suddenly feeling very confused, which was not a feeling she had much experience with. "The Admiralty?"

       "Higher." Draconic's eyebrows danced behind the visor. "Think about it…in order to maintain public calm, what is the one step the UNSC never took on Earth?"

       Cortana's form drained of color. "Oh, no."

       "Oh, yes. They never declared Martial Law." She leaned in, conspiratorially, and Cortana felt horror creeping through her emotional subroutines. Everything she'd ever believed about the chain of command had just hit an unexpected roadblock. It was so deviously simple, yet so complex that the inner workings were going to take hundreds of processor cycles to comprehend. Pieces of a puzzle she'd never even noticed before were falling into place. "Both the UNSC and I answer to the Civilian Senate; in my case specifically to one Senator Felicity Warwick." She grinned at Cortana's stunned expression. "I believe we call that…checkmate."

       Miira felt a small victory as Urza stormed into the landing bay personally, irritation clear on his face. She smiled cheerfully at him. "What can I do for you, O Teacher?"

       "Why are you stealing a dropship? And why did you order the bridge crew to change course?"

       "It is quite simple. One? I can not try to communicate with the Demon while it is broken. I also can not attempt to fix it on this ship surrounded by idiocy. Two, the mammal stinks, and I intend to drop it in a lake to attempt to clean it. Three, I need a vacation. This planet is not far off our course, and I am going to land there."

       "Very well. But do not tarry long."

       "I did not ask for your permission, Urza." She turned her back to him and walked onto the dropship, closing the hatch behind her.

       The planet was marked on few stellar charts, and Miira only knew of it from trips with her father during childhood. Thick jungles covered the entire globe, and a lesser gravity than most human worlds had allowed the flora and fauna to grow considerably larger. It was a world not unlike the one the Sangheili had evolved on, though their homeworld was now covered in cities and such natural beauty was rare. When occasionally the noble child Miira had been grew stressed with her seemingly pointless duties, she had stolen away to this peaceful place. With any luck the Demon would feel the same.

       Miira watched the delicate creature that followed her like the pet it was called, wondering how such a soft, fragile race could ever have evolved. She led it down a path between massive blue trees to a small glade. Here the mountains ended, the snows from up high melted and were heated by the brilliant sun and dumped into a glorious little waterfall aside from the main river. The Demon exhaled sharply and it's expression changed. It waded into the water and began scrubbing sand into it's skin. Miira crouched on the shoreline and watched it. Eventually, it's sky blue eyes lifted and regarded her calmly. Miira debated for a moment, then attempted to address it again. "Do you have a name?" She pointed to herself. "Miira Sohatilhanee."

       The Demon seemed to be thinking, and then shrugged its shoulders. It started to speak, shut it eyes against what seemed like pain and tried again. "Halley." I'm not a Spartan anymore. Spartans don't break.

       "Hay'lee." It did the most peculiar thing with its eyes, rolling them skyward and then down.

       "No…Halley. You accent wrong." Miira blinked in annoyance.

       "You do speak our language."

       "Small pieces only. No translate anymore, must remember sounds that match words of my language. I listen, I learn." It exhaled sharply from its nose.

       "You are a Demon?"

       "Your word for us, yes." Its slit-like mouth turned downward at the corners, and it focused on its scrubbing. Its skin actually became paler, if that was possible.

       Miira thought for a while before her next words. "Do you have a gender?" It blinked, seeming surprised.

       "You ask odd things. Yes, I am a female." It, or rather, She dunked her head under the water, and as it rose back up its hair changed to the color of fresh snow. Miira rose a little, respectfully. White was a rare color on any species; even the winter races had dark fur part of the year. White was used to signify things that were special in Sangheili culture. She tilted her head, taking in the creature's odd shape. "Another odd question?" The Demon asked with a tone of amusement in its strange high-pitched voice.

       "What are the lumps for? I have always wondered why half of your race has them and the other half does not." The Demon's mouth quirked in the opposite direction.

       "We call them 'breasts.' They are used to suckle our young. Well, for those of the human race who can have young."

       "Your younglings eat from them?" The Elite looked scandalized. "What of their teeth?"

       Halley made an odd sound not altogether unlike Sangheili laughter, and her lips showed teeth without a menacing glare. "Our young have no teeth when they are born."

       "What do they eat without teeth?"

       "Fluids."

       "I see how your race evolved so soft."

       The demon reversed its lips again, and its eyes darkened. After more scrubbing it looked up, and one of the small fur patches over its eyes lifted independent of the other. "What does your race have for females?"

       "I am a female, Demon." It lifted the second patch of fur and bit the outside of its mouth.

       "I guess your females are as big as your males?"

       "Bigger when fully grown." Miira glanced at the Sun's decent, and stood. "If you are sufficiently clean, we can go."

       "Yes." Hay'lee walked out of the water, now every inch of her skin gleamed moonlight pale, slashed here and there with pink marks. Her back was the worst of all; deep red slashes ran from her neck to her slender waist, the skin no longer hard and rigid but still discolored like a burn. They looked recent. Given the condition Miira found the Demon in, it was a safe assumption that the Ahzentia had put them there. As she sat at the controls of the dropship, Miira clenched her jaws tightly to lock down the surprise that welled up. Being concerned about Unggoy was bad enough, caring about a lowly human, even if it was of the Demon variety was just too much.

       However, a neutral outlook towards the Ahzentia had shifted to a definitive shade of disgust.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Thirteen: Unforgotten
Date: 8 June 2006, 5:10 am

            Chapter Thirteen: Unforgotten

       The Iliad and the Odyssey were intended as humankind's first true migration to the far reaches of space. The first two commercialized vessels ever created with Shaw-Fujikawa engines were commissioned by the Trans-Universal Emigration Association; civilian economic geniuses trying to get a foothold on what had been primarily military interests. The TUEA intended to take two thousand "ordinary" people along with another thousand specialists to a small yellow star at the far reaches of explored space. They hoped to settle on the earth-like planet in orbit of A-3317-C, forever hallmarking the TUEA as the Forefathers of spatial colonization.

       Instead, the twin ships vanished into Slipstream and were never seen again. Following several lawsuits and criminal investigations, the TUEA because synonymous with colossal failure instead; the phrase "Tuea'd" rapidly became employed in the same respect as "Fubar".

       Unbeknownst to the human race, the Iliad and Odyssey were lost due not to human failure so much as human shortcomings. A-3317-C was shadowed by a microscopic point-singularity. The miniature black hole was self-sustained, drawing more energy from Slipstream space than real space. It's position between two stars sharing a similar gravitational pull made it invisible on most light spectrums. The scientists who chose the Iliad and the Odyssey's final destination had no way of knowing what they were sending the ships into. When the vessels reached the gravitational distortion the Iliad was ripped to shreds instantly, sucked into the black hole. The Odyssey caught the very edge of the rippled space, and was flung at incredible speed from one end of the universe to the other in a matter of moments. They terrified skeleton crew barely managed to drop out of Slipstream before the momentum carried them into the yawning emptiness between galaxies.

       The crew had to stop and rush the windows in the moments following the disaster; shocked by the beautiful glistening world they hung in orbit over. Proof had finally been found that Humankind was not alone in the universe. They Odyssey had found the Sangheili homeworld. Astonished delight was quickly replaced by horror; in the wake of the discovery the Odyssey was boarded and her crew drug from her corpse. The Sangheili homeworld was inhabited by the strongest of their race, the dissenters long gone. Nobles and military personnel had no time for diplomatic talks with the lost fifteen hundred souls, and after pressure from the noble class the remaining crew was forced into servitude. Over the years defiance was beaten and bred from the soft human slaves, and the Odyssians over time forgot their true roots in the galaxy. When the Covenant preachers began their religious propaganda against the rapidly spreading human race, the ears of the nobles and the slaves alike perked in response.

       More humans began trickling into the market as the planets were glassed; sneaking human survivors off dead worlds became a popular, if illicit, method of supplementing a meager soldier's income. It rapidly became apparent that the difference between the humans and the Odyssians was a vast one. Odyssians always looked down as their masters preferred. Humans still looked to the stars. The servitude-bred subrace loathed their cousins with a passion that surprised even themselves.

       It's because they envy us. Rebekka Lane had spent most of her life enduring the dark, hateful looks of those born in slavery. Unperturbed, she walked on the lower-gravity world with elegant ease. She had been born on Jericho-7, a world barely qualified for colonization due to its gravity. She'd had a normal childhood, with kindergarten classes and playmates. A tomboy of sorts, she'd played minor-league soccer when she was six, and excelled. But nine days before her birthday, an alien army fell from the sky. Homes had been leveled, and her school had been hit with a bomb in the early hours. She still remembered looking at the old red building reduced to burning rubble, in shock and feeling a child's morbid amusement as the universally shared childhood dream came true. She'd been rushed along with the other evacuees; shoved into some corner as grownups argued over futile plans. Some lady had snapped a picture of her cuddling her teddy for comfort before moving on to the next group of survivors. When the enemy soldiers stormed the building, Bekka had crawled under a table and cowered in fear till the Unggoy had dragged her out. Glowing weapons had been aimed at her in unison, but one of the massive blue aliens had waved them away, crouching in front of her and focusing intelligent black eyes on her. She'd stared back wide-eyed as he argued with the others, and eventually she'd been picked up and carried back to their landing ship.

       She couldn't really remember anything after that, until they'd settled in orbit over an alien planet. The sight of the massive blue world rising through the frosted violet windows had snapped her out of the dream-like state she'd been in. She knew now, after years of living here, that she'd been one of the lucky ones. With her natural strength from early years on a high-gravity world and her relative youth, she'd been perfect for Sangheili slavery.

       "Watch where you are going, scum!" She glanced back from the old memories at two adolescent Sangheili males who stepped in her way. A sniggering female looked on. Bekka rolled her eyes in an echo of her mother and stepped aside. The smaller male followed her step, chuckling in his low voice and snapping his jaws in her face. He looked annoyed when she didn't jump back. She squared her shoulders and looked him over critically. Raised by the family of the very soldier who saved her, she'd been given the very privileged service of the youngest son's personal servant and companion. Triselii, their world, had been in the early days of it's population during the first baby boom in the war's wake. There had been very few children of Patki's age, and the human girl had helped distract him from his busy noble mother.

       He'd been insistent on becoming a warrior with every breath, and Bekka had trained at his side, struggling to keep up with the naturally fit Sangheili boy. She had a physique that put most Olympic athletes to shame, but maintained a deceptively slim figure due to the training techniques. The boy who blocked her path had a major advantage of height, but Bekka would have bet a great deal that she could put him down with a few hits; there were definite weak points that could be utilized in an unfair fight. While the quad-jaw formation of the Sangheili was unnerving to see at first with it's rows of vicious teeth, it was actually a rather fragile configuration. The near-hollow bones that allowed such large creatures to exist were broken as easily as a human's nose. The boy wasn't wearing the dense jawguards that warriors favored. A fast right punch with all her weight behind it would probably crack the lower left mandible, although such a scuffle would result in severe punishment.

       She just stared at him, debating the punishment against the satisfaction of a fight, unnerving him enough to send his weight shifting back slightly. Years of training guaranteed a win; his sudden uncertainty would slow his reactions. She got as far as balling a fist before he jumped back a pace, hunching in respect. Bekka sighed and looked over her shoulder at Patki, who was watching in bemusement. Where their training had been stonewalled in her at the physical peak of human musculature, it had turned him into the poster-child of the Sangheili military. He stared down from a great height as the children quickly jumped out of their path. Bekka snorted and continued walking, Patki falling a pace behind.

       "You are going to get yourself in to trouble one of these days, Bekii." He gave her their version of a smile as she shrugged, an all-too-human gesture that had never been beaten out. Not that she'd been beaten often, Patki threw such a fit at his mother when she would order Bekka punished that the girl escaped most of the Sangheili brutality that was the legacy of the Odyssians.

       "Probably. But I'll go down remembering the look on their faces. That alone would be worth it." Fashioning conjunctions out of the Sangheili language was a tough challenge, but it helped her cling to her lingual heritage. Long ago she'd taught Patki Commonly Applied English, the accepted language of most space colonized worlds. CAE, pronounced "Sigh," was a bastard combination of English, Spanish, French and Japanese. Unlearning CAE was one of the first training courses in the UNSC, which favored a more traditional English. Of course, if Patki's mother ever learned that it was Bekka's covert teaching that eventually led to his defection from military life, the human had no doubts the Sangheili matriarch would have her drawn and quartered.

       "So what are your plans now? Your mum probably will not be too happy to see you hanging around again." She was careful to keep her most recent set of bruises under the restrictive clothing servants wore.

       "Well, Father sympathizes with me. After all, something made him want to save you back in the day. He has offered to pay for transport wherever I decide to go. There is a colony base a few light years out from here, I am going to try my luck out there." He paused. "You are going to come with me."

       Bekka smiled up gratefully. It was difficult to keep her relief from showing, and the shiver wasn't completely suppressed. "I was hoping you would say that." Patki's bright, shining future as a covenant soldier had ended in one brief confrontation on a human world they were overrunning. He'd been second in command of a squad, and enthusiastic about his position in spite being raised along with a human child. They had been guarding a human structure, which had some artifacts of interest within, when a human woman had darted out from behind a building. His commander had caught her easily and tossed her into a wall, where she slouched down, protecting a crying bundle in her hands. She had looked up tearfully, and begged. "Please don't hurt my baby…" Patki, with his knowledge of CAE, had felt sympathy welling up. Then his commander had attached a plasma grenade to her chest and stepped back.

       Laughing.

       Patki's official report was that several human soldiers had overpowered them with stolen covenant weapons, and he'd been lucky to be the only one to survive. He'd left the military immediately following the incident. It was his mother's heritage that had protected him to some degree, although her pedigree was stretched thin these days. He had only returned to Triselii to gather his belongings; namely Rebekka. He glanced down and smiled, her step was lighter and she didn't bother to exchange the usual glares with the Odyssian servants who stood silently in the doorway.

       "Why the colony base?"

       "I have an aunt there. Very un-official. Walked out on the family years ago."

       "Is this a common thing for your family?"

       Patki grinned as he entered his personal code to open the doorway to his childhood home. His mother was standing there, fuming on the other side of the door, and before the torrent of her wrath started, he answered Bekka with a rueful tone. "Actually…yes."

       Jhonan yawned and read the paragraph explaining the ship's modified drive for the third time in a row, finally giving up and settling back to just look out the forward window. Although Slipstream made the stars invisible, the Draconic had advanced sensors that pinpointed and holographicly displayed the locations of such massive gravity wells in realspace. The stars rushed past like the old screensaver that had been popular in the late twentieth century. It was easy and mindless to watch. He was drawn back to reality as a pale wraith of color appeared on the sensors and the ship slowed automatically, holocrystals on the pad between pilot stations rapidly warming.

       "What have we here? Cyke, I need you on the bridge, we've finally got a chance to try out the weapon drive." The cool female voice was accompanied by the appearance of a holographic pilot geared up like Cyclone. She gave a bright smile to Jhonan and waved.

       "Who the hell are you?

       "I'm Draconic."

       "Oh, like the ship?"

       "No. Its 'The [I]Draconic[/I],' I'm just plain old Draconic."

       "Uh…okay." He frowned, remembering Cyke's description of how badly AIs and NIPs got along. "What are you doing here?" Cyke hotfooted onto the bridge, Matthieson close behind.

       "She's with me. Drac, run a full analysis on the ship, we don't need any mistakes."

       "Already done, it's orbiting a human inhabited planet called…" the holocrystals darkened as she delved into the ships astrolocation information, "Belvius. Who names their planet 'Belvius' anyway? It's currently in combat with three UNSC cruisers. They seem to be losing the fight."

       Jhonan felt a shiver run down his back. "Wait, we're just hovering in Slipstream? I though you had to be moving to maintain the field."

       "No, thanks to certain information gleaned from one of the artifacts, we've managed to develop a drive capable of a lot more sophisticated maneuvers." Draconic smiled at him coyly. "Just wait till you see how the ships got their name. Captain, permission to bring the Firestorm drive online?"

       Matthieson nodded, and settled in his chair. "If you are certain the ship can handle it."

       There was a soft hum through the entire ship, and on the pilot's panels an overlay of the engines appeared. Jhonan watched in interest as a small device shot out from where the three engines intersected, and hovered with a small metal link to the back of the ship. The engines shifted slightly, no longer facing straight out the back but turning to cross exhaust fields. All three intersected on the small metal ball that began to send the bridge a new stream of information.

       "Dark, please drop us into realspace and plot an intercept course with the covenant craft." Matthieson frowned; knowing the specs and actively watching the Firestorm in action were two very different things. The pilot responded immediately, although he looked a bit nervous as the ships short-range engines sent them hurtling towards the violet dot that was rapidly growing into an enemy vessel.

       "Switching all sensors to passive mode and raising the active camo." The ship's silver exterior faded to matte black at the AI's command, and the girl vanished from the panel as all her attention went into the mathematical equations. The blue form of Cortana appeared in her place, and all three men blinked in surprise.

       She shrugged unrepentantly. "What? Draconic is doing all the math, I'm just a passenger. I want to watch this." The forward screen cleared to show a beautiful blue and green orb turning gracefully under the firefight in her orbit. Signals from the UNSC ships taking fire clogged the channels, cries for help calling out to ships several light years too far away. The [I]Draconic[/I] slipped in silently, and as her engines started to heat up, Jhonan swallowed hard.

       "Sir, on this course we're going to crash into her."

       "No, Dark." Cyke grinned as he entered the last few codes, reading the enemy ship's shield frequency and setting the [I]Draconic[/I]'s to match. "Just have a little faith." Dark sighed and remembered a promise he made to god the last time he was hanging over a planet facing doom, and vowed to at least keep his eyes open this time. The small black dart rushed the Covenant vessel and appeared on her sensors seconds too late. As the shields met they shared a frequency, allowing the human's protective field to complete the circuit and meld smoothly through. Point five meters away from impact a small, unstable window into slipstream appeared, and the [I]Draconic[/I] shot through. Jhonan held his breath as they emerged an instant later. He accessed the rear view, and whooped aloud, unable to help himself. The Firestorm-class vessel had left the window open behind them, a tube through the belly of the ship that was unstable and barely holding together. Streams of matter shot out both the impact zone and exit point, as the gravitational rift fought to close itself. In the silence of space, the Covenant cruiser imploded.

       "FIRE STORM. We're employing a Focused Intersection Replenishment Engine capable of performing what we call a 'Slipstream Trans-Occupational Realspace Maneuver.' Quite a mouthful, but it's the most recent super weapon in the UNSC. The intersecting exhaust fields power the short-range Slipstream jump without being quite enough to solidify the gap. Gravity doesn't countenance snarls, so in a matter of seconds the field collapses with a rather violent bang. After we're already clear, of course. Not bad for little ship, eh?" Draconic appeared alongside Cortana, an amusing sight as neither of them had much space.

       "Any problems with the engines?"

       "Nope. Shaw-Fujikawa drives back online and operating at full capacity. I'm reverting them back to their travel configuration now." Cortana made an annoyed sound and vanished. Draconic smoothed her jumper out as though the holographic fabric was real.

       "Very well, Dark, get us back onto our original course, please. I'm going back to my bunk." Matthieson got out of his chair, as Jhonan cleared his throat.

       "Those people are wondering what happened, sir. Are we going to signal them?"

       "Regretfully, no. The UNSC will be here soon enough to smooth things out, but the Firestorm is still classified." He set a hand on his half-brother's shoulder. "This is what it feels like to be involved in ONI, kid. We get to be guardian angels without any of the perks."

       Jhonan frowned at his back as he walked away. "What perks, exactly?"

       The captain's voice came back laughing from the corridor beyond. "Chicks. Chicks dig a guy with wings."

       Cyke was busy pouring over data recorded during the weapon's use, but the teenage AI smiled shyly at him from the holopad. "It's true, you know. I wonder if it goes both ways?" Her image shivered, and pale gold wings materialized on her back, matching her hair. The pilot blinked in surprise; he'd thought it was harder than that for an AI to change their self-assigned form. She gave a little frown at the new addition. "More dragon-like than angelic, I'm afraid."

       "I dig it," he said with a grin. She smiled even more, and he got the feeling she was winking behind the visor.

       [I]It's gonna be an interesting month[/I].

       The need to scream was one of the most basic human needs; a physical reaction to fear or horror that preserved sanity through giving some small release to the battered human mind. Suspended in a web of pain, Halley fought for that release in utter desperation. The device being used was generating a field of electricity that locked muscles in place without causing any permanent damage. Fire raced through her veins in an unending cycle of agony, but the device was only secondary to the true torture. It only made things easier for her tormenters. Face down, she should only have been able to see the floor, but the Ahzentia had thoughtfully set up mirrors so she could witness their experiments. It amused them to ask her for her input after the fact.

       She watched without the ability to scream as they took small plasma knives and began cutting into her back. It was all very clinical, and distantly she wondered why someone would dissect her through the back…humans started in on the chest. She choked, and vomited, and that same part of her mind wondered if the setup was to prevent her from drowning. In the reflective surface, skin began to run like melted wax.

       Halley's pupils widened to swallow the iris and beyond. Violet light banked out her vision and the electricity broke long enough for that scream to finally escape…

       …Halley hit the floor and grunted, rolling instinctively to her feet before she even knew what was going on. She gasped, her throat raw and her head pounding, but the room was cool and dark. The dream was already receding into her subconscious mind, and she looked to the hammock that swung slowly opposite her own. Miira was already asleep again; she was becoming adept at kicking Halley's bed over and passing back out in the same move. The Spartan took a few moments to gather herself and climbed back into the swinging net, which barely accommodated for the fetal position she curled into.

       She refused to cry.

       "I hate you, demon." Miira scowled ferociously at the unperturbed woman who wolfed down a full plate of purple vegetables that she claimed was "better than broccoli." Whatever this broccoli was, it must have been disgusting; even the Unggoy turned up their noses at the purple stuff. Apart from the demon, only Engineers consumed it, and Miira was relatively certain they didn't have taste buds.

       "You are not the one who wakes up with bruises from being kicked out of bed every morning."

       "I would prefer bruises to waking up to that horrible noise you make." She shook her head in disgust.

       "Sorry. Humans call them…" Halley munched on, trying to find a translation. "Night terrors, I believe is as close as it gets."

       Miira shuddered, the words "Night terrors" conjured up all kinds of childhood memories. "To cause such a sound they must be terrible indeed. Do you remember them?"

       "Nope." The demon was a good liar. Her tone and inflection were perfect, but she broke into a cool sweat at the mention of her dreams, and to the keen reptilian-like sense of smell the Sangheili possessed, it was easy to pick up. No matter how often the demon bathed, the smell never completely went away. A small plant now grew in their shared quarters under a small radiation lamp; it was a small green bush that grew like a weed on several planets. Halley had discovered it on one of their excursions, and had been remarkably excited by the find. She called it "mint" and claimed that the plant was also found on earth. Miira was just glad that when the demon chewed the leaves it sweetened her breath somewhat. In the weeks since her unusual companion had arrived, Miira had grown rather fond of her in spite of the disruptions to her usual routine. Not that the Elite would ever admit to it.

       "Well, prepare yourself. Tomorrow you will see for the first time what the lives of the free Sangheili are like. I am meeting with a companion on one of our colony bases."

       "A Sangheili space station? Wait, wait… 'free' Sangheili? Since when have you not been free? You take over our planets, you kill every living thing you find as long as your prophets cry 'heretic' and shake a stick at it, and you blithely rule over all the Covenant races in your command. If that is slavery, sign me up."

       "Shake a stick?"

       "Human expression. Stems from a human religion called Voodoo, where priests shake magic sticks at you to curse you."

       "How many religions do you have?" Miira was surprised to hear evidence of extended faiths; she'd always believed the human race was uniformly atheistic.

       "Hundreds, really, most of them dead now. We started studying them more intently when we realized we were fighting an enemy on a religious crusade. For all the good it did us." She finished her meal and stood up. She ran a hand through her hair, which now hung well past her shoulder blades. As the Covenant had no real concept of a "brush," she had braided most of the white mass to keep it back from her face. The rare, brief glimpses of her reflection showed a feral being staring back; wide, paranoid eyes framed in a wild mane of braided snow. No one dared lay a hand on her save Miira, although she was relatively certain that was due to the Elite's possessive nature. Halley was quite simply a pet, albeit a well kept one.

       "Just when I think I have your kind figured out."

       "How can you expect to learn about a culture if you just kill it off?"

       Miira shifted uncomfortably, meeting the cold blue gaze of the demon was remarkably unnerving, even if the unarmored creature was considerably weaker. Something under the veneer of a shattered mind stirred in the icy depths of her eyes like a sea creature ever moving slowly to the surface. Miira dropped a mandible open and turned her gaze away. "The Covenant at the behest of the Prophets seek your destruction. I long ago learned co-existance may eventually be necessary." She looked over again, and the demon's eyes had returned to the usual placid stare, the thing in them gone or better hidden. The thought of her kin moved Miira's words to passion. "Your best chance for creating a lasting peace is to avoid the Covenant altogether. The colony base will speak for itself. You say we are free, yet when you see how our brethren live there, perhaps you will understand that leadership and self-empowerment are not always synonymous."

       "You spoke too fast. What did you just say?"

       Miira sighed heavily, and pressed her palm to her forehead, a gesture picked up from her pet. "I really hate you, Demon."

       "What else is new?"

       Paul stood silently at attention, staring out the frosted windows of the welcome center in Obsidan's PHD. A testament to the seriousness of the day was the presence of Sparks just behind him and to his left, still and silent. He waited for three full minutes for her to speak, but she just waited, an unprecedented gesture of support. He managed a slight smile and looked back at her. "Is the team ready?"

       "Yes, sir. We're just waiting for our final orders before heading topside."

       "Tell them we move out at 0800." He returned his eyes to the dead campus, well in the grip of an unusually cold winter. It suited his mood. Paul had never wanted to command the Beta Spartans. It wasn't that he couldn't, it was just that command had always been Halley's. Her remarkably inane ideas that so often panned out as brilliant tactical maneuvers, her ability to keep Nile in check, and her constantly flaring temper that he'd always had to try to counter were all deep holes now. He'd lost teammates before. The Beta team had always been under equipped, their armor usually the leftovers after the Alpha team was suited up. The budget Dr. Halsey was afforded didn't fully cover both teams, and when she was pulled out of Spartan II towards the end of their training, their priority had been dropped to a sad tertiary position. There had been more casualties in the Beta Spartans until the disaster at Reach. Paul was used to losing friends. He just wasn't prepared to lose his best friend.

       Sparks moved off silently, and a much bigger shape took her place behind him. A hand that easily palmed his shoulder pauldron settled there, and Paul sighed hard. "Come on, bro. Time to go give 'em hell."

       Nile's voice summoned up the very satisfying image of the Brute who'd given them their information. It had been stoic against the threats of torture, till they brought in it's last surviving companion. Paul had literally kicked the second brute's head in, crushing it's scull till it was little more than paste. After that, getting answers had been easy. Paul felt no remorse, only harsh satisfaction.

       "She's out there, Paul. She's not dead, no matter what MC said. Hell, we've known her since forever. She's probably out there somewhere fighting her way back to us. That kid was tough as nails." Paul frowned and clenched a fist. For all the bigger Spartan's bravado, Paul couldn't see it his way. Halley had been taken by a race known to the Brutes for their cruelty…a cruelty so intense that even the massive simian aliens feared being caught by them. Better that she was dead.

       "Inform the Captain we will be onboard shortly." He pulled away from Nile's attempt to comfort and walked towards the tarmac. He had no intentions of letting his Chief's death cripple him.

       It was going to fuel his revenge.

       Hugging her daughter goodbye was one of the hardest things Jean Schaeffer ever had to do. The past two years or so on Obsidan had been wonderful, the home they always wanted. Then two weeks ago the mail had brought the end of their dream life. The UNSC had revoked Jean's permanent base status. A massive battle on the Han Medical Station had ended the lives and careers of three hundred medical personnel. As a result, the Navy was pulling the most experienced battlefront medics back into service, and Jean had been at the top of the list.

       Last night's conversation had been about divorce.

       "It's not like The UNSC has never done anything for us." The argument sounded hollow even in her own ears. Her husband sat on the bed with his face in his hands, anger giving way to pain. "We couldn't afford a home like this on our own, and the school Sarah is going to is ranked number one in UNSC controlled space. You know how many schools that is? And our medical benefits, love, we couldn't have afforded your back surgery without them." She knelt before her husband, who met her eyes reluctantly. "I knew, we knew, that there was every possibility that this would happen someday. The war isn't won, no matter how good things are looking."

       "This assignment, how long is it for?"

       "Undetermined." She broke eye contact and sat back. "Could be months, could be years."

       "How many of your daughter's birthdays do you want to miss? You haven't even been there for half. Half!" The anger was there again, and he stormed into the bathroom attached to the main bedroom. She heard the water running, and forced herself to be strong.

       "If you want to file for divorce, I'll understand." The water shut off, and silence prevailed for a long moment.

       "Jean…" He stepped back into the room with a sigh, and dropped back onto the bed. "I don't want a divorce. I just want us to be a family."

       "You don't think I want that too?" Jean scowled and rubbed at the headache slowly expanding in her temples. "Do you know how many under-seventeen orphans there are from this war? The last census suggested almost a billion. A Billion. That's almost a sixth of Earth's natural population! And nearly a third of them are dying from lack of food and medical care. I love our daughter. I love this life." She stood up, suddenly fired to passion. "But I learned to do what I do because it's necessary. Medical professionals are desperately needed, and I'm not going to turn my back on humanity just because I've had a glimpse of how good life can be." She turned to go, but Daniel caught her wrist. She let him pull her back to the bed, all the fight suddenly gone in a rush of tears.

       "I know, baby. I know. We'll make it work."

       Sarah was older than the last time her mother left on a campaign, and explaining it to her had been a little easier this time around. The school really was top-notch, the nine-year old was far more mature than many other children her age. She wasn't happy, but she understood math now. There were a lot more hurt people than doctors, so her mommy had to go help other little girls and boys. She hugged Jean solemnly, and met her eyes with pride.

       "When I grow up, I'm going to be a doctor. Then we can help even more people, okay?" The childish words wrenched Jeans heart out, and she couldn't even word a response, only hugged her child again fiercely. When she rose again she hugged her husband, absorbing the memory as best she could.

       "Come home to us." He barely managed the whisper, and when he pulled back he couldn't meet her gaze. The cavernous PHD welcome center had been so warm when she arrived, and now it seemed to swallow her whole. Sarah's eyes suddenly widened, and she pointed franticly to some place past her mother's shoulder.

       "Look! Mommy! It's a SPARTAN." The huge armored figure turned it's head, hearing her from an impossible distance. He reached up and pulled his helmet off, walking towards the three of them with a slight smile on his scarred features. Sarah was practically shaking with excitement, and Jean brushed back tears and smiled back.

       "Dr. Schaeffer?" Going back to school on Obsidan had been well worth it, she still got a thrill out of the title. "You'll be riding up in our shuttle today." Sarah made a noise halfway between a squeal and a giggle, and the Spartan knelt down. He was so big he barely managed to reach her eye-level.

       "My mommy is going with you?" She stuck her thumb in her mouth, a long broken habit surfacing in the face of such an unnervingly big adult.

       "Yup, kiddo. I'm gonna keep an eye on her and make sure she comes home, okay?" Sarah nodded, leaning against her father's legs. The Spartan looked unimaginably tough, with short, midnight black hair and a scar that covered most of his face. She grinned around her thumb; it was easy to believe he could protect her mother. He straightened and stepped back, walking calmly towards the exit ramp to the tarmac. Jean hugged her daughter one more time.

       "I love you, baby. Don't you ever forget it." Reluctantly she turned and followed the Spartan out of the room.

       Sarah tugged at her father's leg, and he looked down, smiling and trying to be strong for her sake. "Yes hunny?"

       "I changed my mind. Can I be a Spartan when I grow up?"

       Most artifacts has some level of sentience. One, however, had a sense of gender. She called herself Lithili, and hung in her silent cocoon of metal, waiting for her visitors. The Other had passed close by, but they were not meant to meet yet. It was reassuring, though, to sense Imriel's passing, even if it's thoughts were fractured into separate personalities. It had already found one of it's missing pieces, and both artifacts now traveled in a host of flesh and bone. The mind in control was only a facet of Imriel, forged in the fires of mortal life. Already, though, the facet was losing it's distinct edges, and the mind was beginning to merge into a whole.

       But Imriel and it's counterpart Halley had passed on by in Slipspace.

       The others were coming to seek Lithili, thinking her no more sentient than any other rock. They had to be tested. She could see both ways in time, from the massive, ever growing past to the billions of possible futures that could be woven of the fabric of the present. It was her calling to share them. The mind that would soon be born in it's second reincarnation. The being who defied the very rules of statistical variance. The end to her long slumber. All approached as fast as human ships could fly.

       Lithili waited.

Chapter Fourteen: Bob's Last Words
Date: 14 June 2007, 6:51 am

       If given the choice, Robert Steel would have liked his final words to have been profound, important; even epic in their delivery. Unfortunately, as is often the case, they were spontaneous when they finally arrived.

       "Aww, I can't die today, it's my birthday..."

       As it was, a bigger, more meaningful quip would have been wasted on his surroundings. All alone and cocooned in a heavy shell of Titanium-A, his only companions were an old, almost rickety seat and a control panel of frantically blinking lights. The lights were attempting to warn him of his
impending doom, but after several moments of wrestling with gravity and cursing a flawed understanding of physics, Bob realized that his life, short as it was, was reaching an end.

       Enter the uncreative, mildly comical final expulsion.

       The moment of his actual death was a strange mix of horrific pain and terror, consumed by the sight of the vast, silvery structure he was colliding with. His flesh burned and froze simultaneously as the ship dumped it's fragile atmosphere, and what remained in the cabin lit fire as the engines exploded. It hurt. And he was dead.

       And then...he was not.

       Bob sat up after several minutes of laying on a cold metal table, unsure why he was waking up at all. The surroundings were nothing like the ones he had left; the walls were silvery and reflective, with an odd transparency that showed faint lines of light a few inches behind the actual touchable
surface. The lines moved, and Bob felt a weird flashback to a childhood history class when a bored teacher had played an ancient movie called "The Matrix." The lines of code dropping and falling and rising just barely escaped his understanding. When he finally managed to defocus his eyes from the puzzle, he
was able to see his faint reflection. His skin carried none of the burn scares he would have expected to see covering his body...which he could see clearly. Whoever had fixed him up had left him completely nude.

       Dropping his hands to hide the intensely important organ situated below, he glanced around for his cloths, a hospital gown, or anything that might suffice in defending his modesty.

       The area was unadorned aside from a single bed and a single doorway. In the doorway stood a creature that had somehow escaped his first survey of the room, and Bob blinked in surprise as the strangest woman he'd ever seen looked him over critically. He flushed from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, and stuttered what might have been a greeting.

       Behind the woman, something moved, glided, drifted...and as his eyes focused on the... thing behind his visitor, his jaw dropped open and the resulting scream was cut off as his mind passed blissfully back out of awareness.

       This time, without any words at all.

       The sound of an earbud beeping faintly some short distance away was more than enough to pull the Spartan back to consciousness. John stifled a yawn, and reached to the small table beside the bed he as sleeping in with one hand. He slipped the bud into his ear, and winced reflexively at the tone of the voice
that was already speaking to him.

       "...been paging you for like an hour and I'm supposed to know
where you are. Do they care that I'm not your keeper? No, just, 'Cortana, do this' and 'Cortana, you wouldn't mind...' all day long." John closed his eyes again, and settled back down.

       "I'm here. What's going on?"

       "Well, Captain Messing wants to meet up with you before your briefing today, and there's apparently some dignitaries who requested an audience as well. I'm supposed to inform you your schedule got bumped up by three hours. As if being your personal secretary was my greatest aspiration for the seven years I get to work with."

       "Thank you for the information." John yawned again.

       There was a long moment of silence on the other line. Finally, Cortana broke it with the sort of wistful statement he was beginning to dread hearing. "Tell Halley I said hello."

       "If I see her, I will." The line clicked dead. Cortana wasn't buying it. She never did.

       Nestled into the crook of his arm, Halley muttered, slowly waking up. John took the time to marvel at the fine white mass of hair that was draped over his shoulder, it's fine texture and unusual color. She stretched out under the sheets and tilted that near-perfect, faintly scarred face up at his. Not for the
first time since he'd met her, she took his breath away. He didn't mind the feeling anymore.

       "Good morning."

       "She's not buying it." Halley smirked and laid her head back down, fingers lightly running a well known course over the scars on his chest. As he'd practically thought the same thing himself, there wasn't much he could say to that.

       "I have to get started early today. Diplomacy."

       "How early?"

       "I have about two hours."

       Halley snickered softly, and looked up, a mischievous grin on her impish face. "However could we pass the time?"

       Unable to resist, he laughed.

       The tech on duty by the cryotube jumped about a mile as the Master Chief of the Spartans woke up laughing. The sound choked off in a horrified gasp, and the Chief's helmet speakers went dead. The tech, realizing he'd been privy to something that was really none of his business, backed slowly
away.

       Jhonen stared at the spatial edifice growing in the [I]Draconic's forward view. It was a visual absurdity, like a giant, opaque mirror; the approaching ship showed in a blurry reflection. It was difficult to see at all, as the reflections of dark space around them hid most details from the ship's sight. On her holopad, Draconic watched the same, and she turned her head towards Jhonen with a mischievous grin.

       "I look pretty good, don't I?" She gestured at the reflection as they got closer and came into better focus.

       Jhonen ignored her and leaned forward, frowning as the ship's running lights came on and lit the silvery surface up. "Is that really necessary?"

       "Well, do YOU know what it is?" She lifted a blond eyebrow over her visor, shifting her weight to one hip."

       "Well, no, but I was trying to figure that out before you blinded me--"

       "Oh yeah, because your impressive visual acuity holds a candle to this ship's sens--"

       "That's enough, children." Cortana cut through the childish argument and materialized on a holopad on Jhonan's other side. "The answer is that no one knows what it is, but that's what we're here to find out. If the coordinates are correct, there should be an artifact contained here."

       "It's so far from a planetoid, though. Who builds a space station this far from a sun?" Jhonan blushed as Cortana leveled her gaze at him. Draconic was easy to deal with, but Cortana was the classic "older woman" in the scenario, and the form she picked as her visual display didn't leave much to the imagination.

       "Someone who didn't want it found. Who, incidentally, failed…we're not the first people out here." All eyes turned to the ex-pilot. "Counting our present position as our north/south axis, there's a cloud of debris still slowly dispersing on the south end of the tower."

       Cortana blinked and reviewed the data, nodding. "Good eye." She tilted her head, and the symbols ran along her body faster. "Given speed and direction…and the fact that this is the only gravitational body in a few million AUs…" She pursed her lips and leaned forward. "I'd say the crash happened only a few weeks ago."

       "Sensors agree with your analysis. No signs of a pilot though. That thing was destroyed on impact. Leftover radiation suggests it had Shaw-Fujukawa engines, though…surprising on a vessel that size."

       "But it wasn't in Slipspace at the time, or it would have passed right through. Well, at least with our understanding of physics. Interesting." Cortana stuck her tongue out a fraction and bit it, thinking. The sound of the doors to the cabin opening brought her head around, and the heavy metal steps of a Spartan and Lieutenant Matthieson overrode her thoughts. There was a pause, and The lieutenant started talking, but she didn't hear it. The Chief had taken one look at her and balled his hand into a fist. His head had dropped a fraction. Averting his eyes.

       The digital representation of guilt slammed into Cortana's mind. Another of Halley's expressions had been reflected on her face.

       Will I ever stop screwing up?

       "So what do you have for us?" Matthieson took a seat in the captain's chair as the Chief turned to one of the unmanned stations to read the basic diagnostics beginning to scroll by.

       "Best we can see is that it's a giant, impervious silver space station, with traces of a human vessel dispersing from one of the lower 'towers.'" Now lit up in the Draconic's running lights, the entire structure's face could be seen. It was vaguely shaped like a child's building blocks stacked base to base, with four towers jutting from the upper and lower end of the squareish main body. There was nothing to suggest guns or doorways. The main body was big enough to hold a battle cruiser and still leave elbow room, dwarfing the Draconic as she hovered alongside.

       "Any readings to suggest activity?" The Spartan spoke up, his low voice ice cold and utterly devoid of emotion.

       "That's where it gets weird." Drac tapped her chin, scowling. "Nothing, either this thing is totally dead or it has the kind of shielding that ONI would kill for. I'm guessing the latter for two reasons." She held up one silver laced finger. "There's no damage whatsoever to the tower that got hit, and two," she held up a second for emphasis, "this thing has kept it's exact coordinates over the course of a few millennia. That defies our understanding of physics."

       "I agree with her, actually," Cortana mused. John took a moment to give her a good look, impressed by what he saw. The fractured, distracted Cortana of the last year or so had been replaced by the cool, calm AI that he'd been so fond of years ago. He wondered where their partnership had fallen apart, and unbidden a pale face crowded his memory. Dr. Halsey's features really did play a huge part in his life; first in his childhood, then reinvented in blue, and finally on that scarred, once-loved face. "There's no hint of background radiation either, not even a peep."

       "Okay. So where's the door to knock on?"

       "Err…we haven't found one, but we're not done searching the whole structure yet." Cyke walked in as she was speaking, moving to his station and immersing himself in the readings.

       "Thanks for waking me, Drac." He shot a look at Jhonen, who held his hands up in mock defense.

       "Hey, I was gonna wake you the second we had any real info." The younger man pointed at the silvery shape outside the ship. "Well, yeah, but it's just a thing still. That's not really info."

       "Knock it off, both of you." Matthieson frowned at the boys running the helm. "I want some probes launched around this thing, lets see if there's a way in." There were a few moments of awkward silence as everyone went about their assigned tasks.

       "Got it." Drac finally spoke up again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "North side, between the towers. There's some kind of iris." She waved a hand and brought the image up from the probe. "Looks like this whole ship could fit inside, if that thing opens the whole way."

       "Good. Take us there, and see if you can find a way to knock on the doors. Politely, if possible."

       Drac responded with a snort. Matthieson raised a brow; the pilots hid snickers, and Cortana rolled her eyes. John watched their interaction with half a mind, preoccupied by the unending whispers of memory. He glanced to his left, and froze in place. Sam, his best childhood friend, was standing there. A sandy haired boy of seven or eight, a face so well loved and so long lost. John felt younger than he had in years, and Sam, for all his youth, still stood a bit taller than him. A smile, a forgotten expression, curled John's lips.

       "You're it, no tag-backs!" Sam shouted it with glee and punched John's arm. The Spartan blinked, and yelled back.

       "Not fair!" He looked right and saw Kelly standing there, grinning too.

       "I'll get him." She offered her hand, and he slapped it.

       "Kelly's it!"

       "Aww SHIT!" Sam ran as fast as he could, but Kelly overtook him easily, barreling him over and giggling as they hit the ground. John laughed and ran after them to join the dog pile, and an adult 117 watched the younger self run away into nothingness, only the cold interior of the ship to be seen. John let out a breath he'd been holding, and snapped his head back to the others on the bridge. They each appeared to be returning to themselves from a similar reverie.

       "What…the hell…was that?" Jhonen and Cyke seemed slightly traumatized, and Matthieson looked horrified.

       "Some kind of pulse just hit us." Drac was abuzz with view screens hovering around her holographic form, and pulling up more by the moment. "Tracking. Translating. I have no idea." Her personality was scaled back to almost nothing as she threw all her processors into the task.

       "I saw…I saw the past." John frowned. "Maybe thirty-five or thirty-six years ago."

       "Yeah. Me too." Matthieson gulped. "But that was beyond freaky…thirty-six years ago my mother was pregnant. With me." His face had a green cast to it.

       "Shit, I saw…I don't know, what the hell? Just black, like I passed out or something." Jhonen glanced at Cyke.

       "Same here."

       "We're getting reports from all over the ship. Most of the crew is awake, and it seems everyone just experienced whatever that was. With the exception of us, Draconic." The blue AI glanced at the younger form, who nodded; now at the center of a slow moving tornado of images and information.

       "Is it going to happen again?"

       "Unknown." Drac dropped a third of the screens with a flick of her wrist. "I couldn't have told you the first one was going to happen either." She shook her head. "There's a new radiation on the sensors, it looks like there's a residue. If I didn't know better, I'd say they look almost…temporal. Cortana?"

       "I see it too. It looks like the radiation that the ship was bathed in when we tried to jump into slip-space with Dr. Halsey's artifact." She opened her mouth, and then paused. "What the--"

       "We're getting hit with another--"

       Jonah Matthieson stood by a cradle, his head tilted to the side as he watched the baby sleeping in it. His mother and her new husband were screaming downstairs, their usual fare for the evening. The sound of shattering glass made him jump, and the baby woke up and started crying. These were the worst, she was already half drunk, and the last thing the baby needed was a pissed off, abusive mother trying to shut him up. He reached into the cradle and lifted little Jhonen up, holding him like he'd been taught and rocking him slowly, while carefully retreating to his bedroom in case she decided to check up on the baby. The crying subsided, and his little half-brother hiccupped, closing soaked lashes and starting to drift back off to sleep. Matthieson stood in the darkness, still rocking the baby by the window. "Someday, we're gonna get out of here, little bro. We're gonna go to space in a rocketship and leave all of this behind. And I am going to make sure nobody ever hurts you, ever. You got that, little man?" He moved the baby to his shoulder, and a little hand curled in his rebelliously long hair. "I will always protect you."

       He was still looking out a window, but it was the ship's front view again. He gulped, overcome with emotion. Cyke was blinking, and the Chief was being…the Chief. Jhonen, however, was choking back a sob, and he stared up at his brother in awe.

       "I never knew…she never…" Not usually one for acting emotional, he struggled to put it into words. "God…you always did, didn't you? You always took care of me, and you got us off that rock of a planet…"

       "I promised." The lieutenant scowled to banish any other emotion, and shot a glare at Draconic. She shrugged.

       "I tried to warn you. At least this time I located the source of the disturbance."

       "Finally some good news."

       "Not really." Cortana nodded in agreement. "It's actually emanating from the Shaw-Fujikawa engines." Drac shifted uncomfortably. "Which are now locked down…and I can't take them off standby."

       "Let me guess. I'm going to have to go there and shut them off manually." The Master Chief spoke up, sounding half disgusted. "That's what happens every time there's a crisis. I have to do it by hand." Cortana half smiled at that.

       "He's right, too…I spent half of my time on the Halos sending him off to do one task or another." She shrugged. "And you're right, actually, the pins that lock the engines in drive are far too hard to remove without some serious strength behind it."

       "It should be automatic." Drac split her concentration, most of her mind had been fighting since everything started to keep the engines from jumping them into slipspace. The programming had taken on a mind of it's own. What would happen then was anyone's guess, but given the strange temporal hallucinations everyone had been suffering every time the engines started to run, it wouldn't be good. "But I can't stop it, I'm running myself ragged just holding her together as it is."

       On an entirely different wavelength, Cortana reached out through the mainframe of the ship's computer to tap Drac. The sight from this altered perspective was haunting; Drac was hiding the real danger to herself from the bridge crew. How long can you sustain this?

       Not long. It's pulling me apart here. If you could get the Chief to pull the manual release, I might be able to salvage something of my mind. God, this hurts.

       There was just enough whimper in her words to kick Cortana into overdrive. Usually she wasn't protective of anyone other than the Chief, let alone some upstart fourth-gen AI who thought the universe was created to be her plaything. But there was something downright maternal in her new emotions, and she spared a fleeting thought to the forerunner code that had rebuilt her. "Chief, you need to go. Now."

       "Another puls--"

       The room around him was huge, decorated to be inviting towards children, but at the same time strangely cold and unfeeling. The child who would one day be renamed as Cyclone stared with horrified fascination at his surroundings. There were already three children in the room, and a fourth was being checked in at the doorway. All close in age, he didn't see anyone he knew. His mother smiled at him and shooed him to a table where two of the children were already playing with blocks, and he went over with a pout on his face. The girl at the table glared at him and moved her blocks back from his reach, and the boy just ignored him.

       Bubbling laughter cut through the room, and a sixth child entered, hand in hand with one of the biggest people Cyke's child-self had ever seen. Tall, with close cropped blond hair and icy blue eyes, the man's demeanor screamed military. The girl grinned up at him, and he let go of her hand, kneeling down and talking to her softly. His barely audible voice was like a low purr from across the room, and the girl sobered, nodding. He kissed her for head and stood up, and the girl skipped over towards Cyke with a smile. He gulped; she was pale and pretty and laughing…and given how uncomfortable his surroundings were making him, he clung to the light-hearted smile she offered him.

       "Hi! I'm Katie." She had the lightest blue eyes he'd ever seen, the lights from overhead seemed to pass right through them like shallow water.

       "I'm Nate." He smiled back, and she looked at the other two.

       "You?" The boy looked up, and Nate realized that the boy wasn't being mean, simply terribly shy.

       "Kyle." The girl looked at Katie with a mean scowl, and tossed her hair.

       "My mommy told me not to tell my name to strangers." Nate knew the kind of girl she was, he could see a bully coming a mile away. His mom said he was very perceptive. The girl looked threatened, and she stood up in an attempt to look menacing. He smiled a little when they all realized that Katie stood just a little taller.

       "Well, okay no-name. How about you go play over there, I'm gonna play blocks with my new friends." She smiled and leaned forward, her grin downright impish. The other girl balled a fist. "I wouldn't, if I was you." She glanced back over to the adults, most of whom were discussing among themselves. Only one was watching them, and she seemed very intent on their little exchange. "My daddy could kick your daddy's butt."

       Nate giggled, the bully yelled something and swung a fist, Katie ducked--

       And Cyke was back in his seat, with Drac hovering serenely on the pedestal next to him.

       "It's over, go quickly, each time the pulse is more refined. I don't know what will happen if we hit the temporal event horizon, and I really, really don't want to know."

       Arriving at an unfamiliar space station in the middle of the night was not the best way to make an entrance. Bekka couldn't help the shiver of apprehension as Patki rapped lightly on the heavy metal door before them. She shifted her weight uneasily, shouldering her few belongings with care. Patki sighed, and rapped louder. A circle irised open at Sangheili eye-level, and a pair of bright gold eyes stared out.

       "What is it?" Patki smiled down at Bekka, confident.

       "My father said he would send you word of visitors." The opening shut, and the door slid smoothly open to show a dimly lit foyer and a huge Sangheili female with her hands on her hips. If she'd had a tail, it would have been lashing.

       "Oh good, even less space in my house tonight." She stepped back, and waved a hand, the lights in the main room raising to show a well furnished living space. "He did not mention an Odyssian."

       "She is not one. This is Bekki, and she has been my friend since childhood." His tone dared her to dispute it. Instead, she rolled her eyes.

       "Two humans in one night, and neither of them trained to service. What is this base coming to?" She walked towards one of the circular doorways in the back of the room. Three others were firmly closed. "You sleep in there, I will sort you out in the morning." She muttered under her breath and headed back towards the farthest door without further comment. Patki shrugged to his smaller companion, and headed into the room. Bekka sighed and followed.

       He was fast, god he was fast. Bekka leapt out through the doorway, looking back and forth frantically for cover. Patki laughed behind her, and she had only moments to get into hiding. It was their game, a game they had been playing for years. With his greater size and speed, it was a very one sided experience, but Bekka had managed to get away a few times. It had kept her alive when other Sangheili went after her, knowing how to move and where to hide, and she dove into the center of the room. Her ankle caught the edge of the landing and she went down hard. She glanced back, heart racing, as Patki approached, grinning wide with all mandibles exposed. He paused in his mock attack though, looking past Bekka to the other side of the landing.

       A figure stood there, a little smaller than Bekka but somehow remarkably dangerous looking, white-haired but with a teenager's face; a woman dressed in cast-off Sangheili garb. Bekka blinked in astonishment, she'd never seen a human allowed to wear such things. The other girl took the whole sight in and blinked. And moved like no one Bekki had ever seen. She was across the room by the time the prone woman could draw in a breath, and she was airborne with one fist drawn back. She seemed to hang in the air a moment, and then time caught up as she slammed the elite in the chest with a hit that Bekka would have considered impossible. Patki stumbled back, growling. He brought his fist around, but the human woman slammed her forearm up and caught the wrist, ducking under his arm and slamming the back of her heal into the back of his knee. The warrior dropped to one knee, and the woman wrapped her leg around his throat; her knee lined up with his neck and the muscles clenched in a vise grip.

       Patki squawked in astonishment, gasping for breath.

       "WAIT!!" Bekka screamed, fearing for his life. The woman paused, and locked demonic blue eyes on the frantic woman's. "Please, don't hurt him, we were playing!"

       The words had been in terrified English, and the woman released Patki immediately, staring in unguarded amazement at Bekka. "Playing?"

       "Yeah, he would never hurt me, it's just a game to keep my reflexes up. You…you were trying to protect me." The fear melted into astonishment.

       "It's what I do," the stranger muttered.

       "I do not know what is going on here," a voice spoke up in Sangheili, sounding very angry, "but there is no violence in my house." Patki's aunt stood facing the three, a plasma rifle in one hand. The look she was giving the white-haired woman could have cowed Elites in full battle-armor, but the girl she was trying to stare down simply snorted.

       She must have a death wish. The thought popped unbidden into Bekka's mind, as a third Sangheili stepped into the scene between the glowing Covenant weapon and the girl in it's path.

       "Follow your own rules, then. For the Arbiter's sake I would maintain peace here, but you will not harm Hay-lee while I have breath to stop you."

       "Miira…" Halley blinked, her expression gone from casually menacing to stupefied.

       "I do not suffer fools who threaten my friends."

       "Friend." The word dropped from the demon's lips like it hadn't been thought of in years, and the two women stared at each other, contemplating this sudden shift in their relationship. The owner of the domicile looked at the children bickering in her living room, and plopped into a swinging chair with an annoyed sigh.

       "This is the last time I allow visitors."

       "So you aren't really human?" Bekka sat back on one of the couches, finally getting some time alone with the girl they called "The Demon."

       "Depends on how you define human. Genetically, yes, I read as human. But I wasn't conceived, I wasn't carried in a human womb, and I spent the whole of my life as an enhanced super-soldier for the UNSC. Humanity is relative." She scowled at the younger woman, but the girl seemed blithely unaware of what that glare was supposed to do to her. She was grinning from ear to ear.

       "Close enough, I'd say. How old are you anyway? The whole of your life can't be THAT long."

       "Mid to late thirties at this point. I haven't had a calendar to check in a while."

       "No way! You look, like, fifteen or something." Halley winced.

       "Slow aging." She frowned. "How did you come here?"

       "I was taken when Jericho Seven fell. Adopted as a servant into Patki's house. My life's boring though. What about you? Do you have, like, a husband or something?"

       John. It hurt to think of the name. "No." Something in her face took Bekka aback, her excited look turning more sympathetic.

       "Do you want to go back there? To the army?" There was a taste of yearning in the girl's voice. Something in Halley's eyes shifted; Bekka's breath congealed in her throat at the absolute pain and loss that hid in the soldier's gaze. Halley's voice fell tonelessly.

       "If I could," she swallowed painfully, "I'd give anything."

       Bekka hung her head. There was nothing else to say.

       At this distance the finish line was no thicker then a pencil drawing across the hard rubber of the track; it might as well have been decorated in neon lights with checkered flags waving frantically on either side. Jame stared it down, keeping her head as cool as possible while inwardly dreading the feel of cold metal that was about to be slapped into her hand. She turned her head to the left and shook it to clear the brown mess out of her eyes, smiling a little as Kate's slender form rocketed through the second lap of the relay race. The Irish woman outstripped the other runners, gaining a sizeable lead.

       Which is a good thing, I'm gonna need all the lead I can get. It wasn't that Jame was a bad runner; in competitions where she had a chance to hit her stride she did excellent, she boasted a stamina that put her right up there with the boys in distance running. However, the anchor's job was to sprint the final lap. Not her cup of tea at all.

       That was the whole point of the exercise though; taking the marines out of their element and forcing them to cope. She set her feet and put back her hand, wishing she could look back to see when she was going to take the baton, but taking her eyes off the finish line would add seconds to her time, and she was determined not to let her team down. I can do this. I can do this.

       Behind her the sound of feet slapping the rubber drew closer, and she heard Tim's breathless whisper a second before the baton hit her fingers. "Go get 'em, girl." She grinned. It was amazing what your friends could do with nothing more then putting their trust in you. She ran, legs pounding and breath running short. She was going to make it. She was going to win.

       The feel of corrugated rubber under her boots melted into solid metal deck plating, and the finish line resolved into a seven-foot tall armored soldier. Jame learned a very interesting lesson as she crashed into him; Marines bounce.

       She didn't even hit the floor; he reacted faster then she could blink, catching her by the shoulders halfway down. She was set back on her feet carefully, the Spartan handling her like she was glass. He stared down at her for a long moment as she gathered her thoughts. It was very disorienting being tossed back through her memories and re-living them one at a time, but she remembered where and when she was through the fog.

       "Do you know where the engine room is on this ship?" His voice was so low in pitch and smooth that it was almost a purr. Jame blinked at him, dredged up the layout of the ship from her abused recollections, and pointed back into the hallway she had just run through.

       "Back that way till you have to make a turn, go left, then right, and it's through the third door on your right."

       "Thank you." He moved past her swiftly towards the engines, and Jame smiled at his back.

       "You're welcome." She put her hands on her hips and turned around. Standing there was the doctor who'd done her physical the year before, and in his hand was the vaccination needle that had nearly sent her screaming down the hall at the time. Her face blanched white.

       "Aww, you have got to be kidding me!"

       It had to happen eventually. She'd been enough a part of his life that in flashbacks, she had to appear at some point. But he hadn't been braced for it; for the sensation of her asleep on his chest, snoring softly, one hand gripped tightly around his dog tags. The smell of the salt air on Heoris 4, a brief evening stolen between missions, the silk of her hair under his lips when he'd leaned down to kiss the white crown as she slept. That damnible feeling of surety, immortality that they all had but never admitted. She had to be dead.

       She was haunting him.

       John sighed and pressed on, taking the curvy little marine's directions to the engine room. The yellow and black lines made it simple to distinguish where the manual cut-off was located, but the little panel that should have allowed him to punch in the override was dead to the world. He sighed and keyed the bridge over his comm.

       "Draconic, I can't override from here, the panel is dead. Is there a physical manual override here somewhere?"

       "Busy. Right. Now." There was a great deal of static on the line. "….should be handles…pin locking…"

       The Chief sighed, already knowing the futility of trying to get more help from the overstretched AI. The handles she spoke of her visible, as were the large metal pins locking them firmly in place. "That's the worst excuse for a manual override that I've ever seen." He wasn't sure who he was talking to, but saying it aloud helped.

       He grabbed the handle and pulled, but it didn't budge at all. He positioned himself to get as much leverage as possible and rocked his weight and strength against it, hearing the faintest mockery of metal groaning but not giving. The ship trembled, and he knew another temporal wave was coming. Heoris had only been a few months ago, less than three weeks before Halley had been impaled by the artifact. John wrapped both arms around the handle and propped his legs against the wall, using his entire body to pull. Before the pins gave out, his shoulders did, and he collapsed to the deck as the world shifted again.

       Draconic was dizzy from the streams of information, forcing the engines not to fire was literally killing her. Cortana hovered nervously nearby, but the younger AI was determined not to kill both of them. They could both see the event horizon slamming down on them. Draconic gasped, as she would have in life, and turned to the blue AI.

       "She's yours now. Take care of my boys, okay?" Cortana flinched. Draconic ripped into her own coding, splitting herself down the middle, and using the Covenant code that Cortana herself had discovered years before to craft a copy of her own persona. She threw the willing copy into the fraying fabric of the mainframe, and severed herself from the ship.

       In the cargo bay, a shielded, unused, and previously unnoticed cryo-pod sat, unaffected by the maelstrom around it. Three bright green lights shimmered, and the fourth blinked red steadily, as it had for months.

       The light paused, and blinked green.

       He could smell the grass. The sun was beating down like a familiar companion, and the courtyard of the Spartan Complex on Obsidan glowed like a green gem. The blanket under him felt coarse. John turned his face up to look at Halley, smiling at her but feeling an odd disorientation. She smiled back, arms around her knees, oblivious to his confusion.

       Her hair was too long.

       In all the years he'd known her, she never grew it past her shoulders; military length. Here her hair tumbled down her shoulders almost to the blanket, a white waterfall. She sighed, and turned her face to the sun.

       "We have to think of a name, you know." She looked back to him again, one corner of her mouth twisting up wryly.

       His memory-self laughed and nodded. "Samuel."

       "Pssht. And if it's a girl?" She dropped one hand to her belly idly, and the obvious curve under her fingers thrilled his memory-self as much as it had since she first told him he was going to be a father.

       A father.

       They had passed the event horizon. He was seeing a possible future. And if it was possible…then…

       She's still alive. He reached out, willing his memory-self to touch her face. Under his fingers, her face changed, the hair shortened, and the bright sunlight was banished to a dimly blue-lit room. She looked back at him; astounded, and the pain and insanity that looked back at him was heartbreaking.

       "J…John?" She froze, opening and closing her mouth like a suffocating fish. She drew in breath to speak.

       And then she was gone, and the engine room loomed around him. John grunted and sat up, eyes narrowed at the manual handle. He had to live. He felt like the room had tripled in gravity, just drawing breath was hard. Gravity. "Draconic, I need your help, NOW."

       Cortana responded, her voice soft. "Draconic's gone, she sacrificed herself to buy us time."

       "I need you to triple the gravity in this room. Quadruple it. I don't care, just crank it up!" The Chief stood; his shoulders ached from the abuse. He wrapped his arms around the handle, and braced himself as the gravity increased. His weight was almost too much to bear. He refused to let go, and finally the creak of solid metal shearing sounded like joyful trumpets to his ears. His abused body hit the desk. He laughed, even as hard as it was to breath. The engines sighed and powered down, and John grinned behind his helmet. He couldn't move, even after the gravity returned to normal. He didn't care. He smiled till it hurt, and then, as the medic finally stumbled into the room, he started laughing, a genuine, heartfelt laugh.

       "Samantha."

       "JOHN!!!" The shriek ripped into the night, and Miira hit the floor as she jumped in her sleep and tumbled right out of her hammock. Minutes later the other Sangheili looked into the room, a stunned and helpless Miira staring back.

       "I…I cannot make her stop." She'd shaken the demon, slapped her, yelled at her, but nothing ended the long, agonized scream. The demon's lungs couldn't possibly hold that much air, but it went on and on. This wasn't like one of her terrors; the demon sounded like she was being slaughtered.

       Bekka stepped calmly between the confused elites, and slipped in behind Halley on the cot. She wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and whispered something in the girl's ear. The horrific sound cut off. Miira blinked in astonishment. There was a moment where no one in the room dared breath.

       Halley started sobbing. Helpless, heartbroken sobs that shook her whole body. She fell against Bekka, who calmly ran her fingers through the tangled white mess of her hair, whispering softly. She rocked the cot carefully, and the elites backed away, incapable of understanding the exchange between the humans.

       The soldier, the Spartan, the demon; Halley sobbed her heart out like a lost child till she fell asleep. And behind her, calm and compassionate, the lost child held her together.

Draconic's Fic, Chapter Fifteen: Royal Blood
Date: 16 October 2007, 11:28 pm

       The demon looked calm.

       Given how horrific the night had gone, Miira was stunned by the girl's peaceful look as she stared into the huge crowd of aliens perusing the market. Creatures of all kinds lent their voices to the din, but the white-haired human seemed unphased; her usual twitchy, paranoid nature had faded. Something in her had obviously broken in the night.

       "This place is huge." There was a tone of amazement in her voice, more emotion than Miira had heard since she'd met her.

       "The market is the hub of the colony base, you can buy or sell anything here, so long as the price is acceptable." Miira checked the metal case on her hip, insuring that no pick-pockets had lifted the money she had brought. Though the Sangheili had long-since left physical money behind in their evolution, it was a necessity when dealing with lesser life forms.

       They milled about; an endless cacophony of buying, selling, bribing, and stealing. Halley had never seen so many aliens in one place at one time. Bekka smiled, taking a deep breath of the scents and stenches of the open market. She turned to the demon and smiled at her. The healing process had begun. Whatever mental wound had been left by the Azhentia torture had finally drained. Halley glanced back, and scowled, but the malice was gone. "What?"

       "Nothing. So…are you going to tell me who he is?" One white eyebrow started to lift, then both shot into an angry v. "This John…were you dreaming about him?"

       "Not dreaming, no. I was awake." She shivered; she could still feel that loving caress of a MJOLNIR gauntlet on her cheek. "I don't know, maybe the artifacts are connected. He was there, really there with me for a few moments." She shrugged.

       "But who IS he?"

       "We were never well defined." She shook her head, smiling. "We couldn't afford to be. He was…he was my superior officer." Bekka blinked in surprise.

       "You were lovers." There was a wistful note in Bekka's voice; she hadn't given herself to any Odyssians; physical intimacy was lost to her.

       "That doesn't even begin to cover it." Halley watched children running through the busy din around them, and her jaw dropped open. "Is that…does that Elite have a tail?"

       Miira snorted derisively. "Pah. The Shamans are no Elites. They are the San'Greal. A distant cousin."

       "Shamans?"

       "Like your voo'doo." She tossed her head proudly. "They go from place to place following some 'pattern' of the universe that they say we are too unenlightened too see."

       "Although our kind have tried." Patki smiled indulgently at the little San'Greal boy who darted past him. "I sometimes think there is something to be felt in their wooden trinkets and soft words." Miira snorted.

       Halley watched the child dart into the crowd, where several heavily armored soldiers were pushing their way through the civilians without concern for their welfare. The merchants in the carts and shops that lined the main street all eyed the ranks, and an uneasy murmur ran through the crowd like distant thunder. The child didn't seem to notice, and he collided with one of the soldiers, nearly sending the Elite sprawling onto the metal plating of the street's floor. The child was not so lucky, and he landed hard, staring up fearfully at the enraged soldier who towered over him. The crowd pulled back from the exchange.

       "Peasant scum! You tried to trip me on purpose. Heresy." The soldier drawled the words with the casual hatred of a creature raised with a sense of entitlement. The murmurs of "heresy" whispered through the crowd. Another San'Greal not much older then the boy ran between them, arms spread out.

       "He is too young to know Heresy, lord. Please, if there is dishonor, do not take my little brother's life. I offer myself in his stead." The soldier laughed, and the hiss of a plasma sword activating caused most of the spectators to jump. Miira turned to Halley to speak, only to realize the demon had vanished.

       "Then you shall take his place." The girl nodded and pushed the boy back into the crowd, where willing hands with fingers and claws and tentacles gently, respectfully held him back. The girl moved forward again and knelt in the dust, head bowed. Only the little boy could be heard clearly, begging for his sister's life. The girl tightened her fingers around a wooden figurine hanging on a thong around her neck, and closed her eyes. The plasma sword arced down.

       A heartbeat passed. Then another. The girl opened her eyes again, and gasped. There was a figure between her and the Elite, petite and pale skinned with a wild mane of winter-white hair hanging halfway down her back. Between her shoulder blades, tiny amethyst crystals poked out of two scars, arching up the pale body and onto the shoulders like a glowing tattoo of a pair of violet wings. The crowd, including her brother, fell silent, and hundreds of eyes locked, not on the bizarre markings on her back, but on the creature's left hand.

       A gauntlet of violet crystal surrounded the hand and ran in as far as the elbow, seeming to merge out of her skin. Her fingers were wrapped around the plasma blade, and she held it there, away from it's intended target. It didn't even burn her fingers.

       The elite stared at the hand in shock, then glanced at the demon's face, a feral grin of bared, white teeth arranged all in a row; she was a thousand times more terrifying than any Odyssian. Her eyes burned with a bright violet light that almost hid the pupils. Only the high-pitched trill from his right hand dragged his eyes off her face, and he glanced at the sword's battery pack. It had been full only moments before. Twenty-percent…ten percent…five percent…

       The blade collapsed with a pop, as it no longer had any energy to create the shield that formed the plasma into it's wicked shape. There was silence, as the demon lowered her hand and the gauntlet vanished.

       Pandemonium erupted.

       Miira fought to get to her friend as the crowd closed in and the Elites retreated to their temple, but there was no way to make it through the crush. Patki tapped her on the shoulder and pointed up; Bekka had climbed up for a better view and was tracking the white-haired woman's passage, as two adult San'Greal pulled her into a shop off the main road. Miira sighed.

       Demons summoned headaches like black clouds heralded rain.

       "D…Drac?" Cyke's voice broke on the name, horror written into every inch of his frame. Jhonan stared at him in disbelief. "Oh no. No no no NO!" Cyke's fingers flew over the panel before him, ripping through the tattered mainframe for any sign of his friend. Though the temporal flashes were gone, he could still feel the hollow place inside him that had formed the first time she died. He hadn't been able to say goodbye then either. Tears slipped under his visor, and his hands shook with panic. "Drac! Damn it, no, you…no, oh no, not again, where are you where are you DRAC!"

       "I don't know if this matters," Cortana said softly, "but I'm showing some unusual activity in the cargo bay. It looks like a cryo-tube is going through it's wake-up cycle, but until now I'd have sworn there was nothing in there." Jhonan was faster then Cyke, out of his seat and racing down the halls before the blind boy could extract himself from his seat. The door to the cargo bay hissed open as he ran up to it, and he skidded to a halt just inside the door.

       The pod was open; white mist poured out and wreathed the figure kneeling on the deck. She gasped for air, and coughed up a long stream of mucous and suffocant. Jhonan moved slowly toward the naked girl, unable to help the slight flush of his cheeks. She was terribly pale, and her hair was plastered down against her neck like an ash-blonde coif. She closely resembled the girl on the holopad, but he wouldn't have guessed she had such attractive curves under the jumpsuit.

       He blushed a darker shade as he realized where his thoughts were leading. "Err, Draconic?"

       Her head snapped up, and she stared blindly towards him, big, sightless grey eyes set in a pretty heart-shaped face. "Yes…who, Jhonan?" Her voice was soft, it sounded long-unused, but it was the same as the girl from the computer. Well, not exactly the same, she sounds more mature.

       "Yeah. Uh, you're not wearing anything." Real smooth.

       "There should be clothing in a storage space under the pod--OH MY GOD IT WORKED!!" She started laughing hysterically, hugging herself and rocking a little, shivering from sheer joy. Jhonan reached into the container, knowing the others were not far behind, and pulled out a jumpsuit and a towel. He settled the towel on her shoulders, and tucked it around her so she could stand up without worrying about her nudity. She managed to get to her feet, but her knees gave way. Jhonan caught her quickly, and the others raced in to find her wrapped comfortably in his arms, grinning up at him.

       "Drac!?" Cyke stood there, jaw as unhinged as it could get. She turned from Jhonan and screeched his name. She only managed two steps before she lost her balance, and Jhonan caught her again, lifted her old-school romance style and carried her to her fellow pilot. She reached for Cyke and wrapped her arms around him. The towel dropped. Matthieson stared at the two, bemused. The two NIPs hugged, laughing and crying all at once.

       From farther down the hall, the ship's medic and the Master Chief passed the room, staring quizzically at the exchange.

       "Should I even ask?" The Chief sounded oddly cheerful for a man with two dislocated shoulders.

       "Yeah, how?" Jhonan blinked, picking the towel up again.

       "Felicity's idea. There was a cloning experiment, and they used my DNA. The idea was that in an emergency, I could jump into the neural links in the clone's brain. The body was created brain-dead. Just a waiting shell." She let go of Cyke and grinned at the Chief, heedless of her nudity. Her left knee gave, and for a third time, Jhonan caught her. He picked her up and settled his shoulders to carry her for a while. She didn't seem to mind, and smiled roguishly up at him. "So, did the clone body live up to the original?"

       "Close." Cyke grinned as Jhonan flushed to the roots of his hair. "Actually, the breasts are bigger."

       "Really!?"

       "No."

       "Dick." She stuck her tongue out at him.

       "Put that thing away, you're naked for crying out loud."

       "That's true. Hey, soldier-boy, how about taking a walk to the showers?" She dropped her head on Jhonan's shoulder.

       "Mmkay." He was glad she was blind, his blood pressure had to be sky high; the vein in his forehead was pulsing with a life of it's own. His brother had a working pair of eyes, however, and he winked one of them in big-brotherly fashion. Jhonan stifled a very embarrassed groan and carried the girl towards the showers, trying to picture them as cold. Very cold.

       "You have no idea how nice touch is." Drac sat on the fake leather of a couch in the officer's lounge, a poorly-named room if ever there was one. It could barley fit five people comfortably. She ran her fingers over the fabric, sighing contentedly.

       "There have got to be moral issues with what happened here today." Matthieson frowned. The project had ONI written all over it, but even though he'd carried it on his ship, he'd never been informed.

       "I'm sure. But anyone with a problem can screw off. You have no idea how much I missed this." She gazed through her visor now, seeing the fractured digital world that was her and Cyke's private playground. "They even bothered to upgrade this body right."

       "Of course the bigger problem now is, how do we get out of here?" Matthieson scowled out the window at the impervious edifice.

       She shrugged, rising from the couch, moving with caution. Her muscles were fully developed, but learning to move them again took effort. She wobbled a little, and Jhonan moved forward reflexively. She managed to keep her feet under her, and she shot a shy, sweet smile at the pilot. "That's really kind of you to keep watching out for me like that." She giggled, shrugging. "But I used to dance. I'll have this walking thing down in no time."

       "Well, until then, I'll be here to make sure you don't get any more bruises from crashing into things." Jhonan had meant to sound annoyed, but he just sounded determined. She blushed a little under the visor, and turned her head.

       "Jhonan…Dark, right?" She looked at him fully and grinned. "You just come with the bad-boy pilot tag attached, don't you?" Matthieson rolled his eyes, and stood up from his couch.

       "Okay, you two play nice, I'm going to go talk to Cortana and see if there's anything we can do to get the engines back. Cyke, go check on the Chief."

       "But…" The NIP stared at him, dumbfounded.

       "No buts. Someone has to do it, and I can keep tabs on you through Cortana. Find out if anything he saw in the engine room can help us get going again."

       "Aww, fine." Cyke glared at Jhonan, but the expression was wasted with his eyes covered.

       "Drac, work on getting yourself acquainted with that body, I may not like the idea of clone-hopping AIs, but your knowledge of the ship is invaluable at this point." He rolled his eyes as she snapped off a salute and promptly fell over into his half-brother's arms. "Dark, keep her from accidentally falling out an airlock, please."

       "Err, yes sir." The door hissed closed and silence fell. He helped the girl to her feet and frowned at her. It was as useless as a visored man glaring; she couldn't see his expression. "You did that on purpose."

       "No I didn't."

       "Yes, yes you did." He sighed and started to let go, but she slid her arms up his shoulders and settled them behind his neck. His skin burned under her touch. "Err." He opened his mouth to tell her to stop, but he promptly forgot two thirds of the English language. The remaining third consisted of dirty words he didn't dare say, so he just remained quiet.

       "And if I did? If it was just a ploy to get myself back in your arms?" She smiled, and the third of the English language he could recall was contained in that grin. He swallowed hard.

       "Then…I'd say you're very vulnerable right now, and I'd be taking advantage of you if I let you do anything you might regret later." Where had THAT come from?

       "Tsk, tsk. So mature." She leaned closer, the scent of fresh soap clinging to her skin still. "I learned one thing on the table all those years ago, Jhonan." The way she pronounced the first syllable of his name hurt, it was so soft. He retreated back and fell onto the couch. Somehow she fell with him, sitting on his lap. He was fairly certain that was his fault.

       "What's that?" His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place in spite of what his brain was telling him was the mature, and right thing to do.

       "You can die at any time, in the blink of an eye." She hovered over him, lips so close her words had physical presence against his. "So live for the now."

       She kissed him, and he surrendered to it. The door behind her locked, and the cameras went dead. Cortana smirked as she shut off the last one. They deserved some peace.

       We all do.

       Halley stared up at the San'Greal female standing over her. She was smaller than an Elite, but there was something of a presence about her that no Sangheili she'd ever met had. The female pressed a cold cloth to the demon's forehead, where a shallow slice had been opened in the melee following her rescue of the girl. Halley still wasn't sure how she'd done it, but the artifact's song was hovering close to her mind, like a piece of her thoughts had broken off and was waiting for the proper time to announce it's presence.

       "I am Siilana'Ithica. You saved my child." The female stared unafraid into the violet depths that Halley's eyes had become, and still remained. "Ask anything of me and you shall have it." Halley shook her head.

       "I need nothing. A child is still a child, no matter what race. Were those Covenant soldiers?" The San'Greal nodded. "I thought this was a free base."

       "It is, and as such they are free to peddle their religion as any others might." She gestured at the door. "They have a temple deep in the structure of this place, evil roots deep."

       The little girl walked over, staring at Halley with big, luminous blue eyes. "I prayed for an angel, and you came."

       Halley winced a little, and smiled sheepishly at her. "I'm not an angel, little one. If anything, they call me a demon."

       "Prove folly of a wise man, and he will brand you with the most untrue name he can think of."

       "Actually, I think the term demon comes from the Unggoy, and they are none too wise." The idea that a child considered her a celestial creature was a tad embarrassing. Even if I did catch a plasma sword in one hand. And deplete it. How the hell did I do that?

       The child. You feared for her safety. And ever have we jumped to the beck and call of the Ike'theiris.

       Halley jumped, hearing your own voice speaking between your ears without your will was unsettling. Err, the what? Thinking back at it was just as odd.

       Shamans, fool. Didn't you learn anything of the Forerunner language?

       Halley smiled lamely at the two San'Greal, who exchanged a look. Inwardly she fumed. Yes, as a matter of fact, but I read it; I don't know how the words sound. No one's spoken them in a million years.

       That's no excuse. Halley's mind flashed a picture of her own face, only with light brown hair and tan skin, midnight blue eyes gazing back at her and reeking with condescension. We will talk later, when you are asleep. I am Imriel. And I am you. The presence faded. Halley fought the urge to roll her eyes. Near the back door of the building a male San'Greal spoke up.

       "There is a Sangheili here who claims to be the demon's friend."

       "Miira?" He nodded. "She speaks the truth." He moved out of the doorway, and Miira stormed in, far taller than the other aliens in the room. Her eyes narrowed fiercely at Halley.

       "How did you do that? Why did you do that?" She snarled, snapping in Halley's face with all of her mandibles. "You could have gotten yourself killed." She turned her wrath on the peaceful creature beside the human. "Royal Bloods, pah. Your child was stupid."

       The female calmly smiled back, surriptiously putting herself between Miira and her children. "Your friend did what she did to defend a child's life. The Covenant have already killed my husband; my children are all I have left of him. Please, Anya, do not punish her for saving my heart."

       "Anya?" Halley asked, one eyebrow arching up.

       "It is a title." Miira sighed, defeated. "For a matriarch. Only the San'Greal can use a respectful title and manage to make it admonishing in the same breath." Siilana smiled, but didn't deny it. She gazed past Miira to where her children played; Patki sat cross-legged on the floor with her son on his lap, hero worship in his eyes. Her daughter danced about, holding up a small carved doll for his inspection. He nodded, agreeing; it was a very pretty doll.

       "Perhaps there is hope for our kind after all," Siilana mused softly. Miira traced her gaze and the last of the fight went out of her, even she was not so old and bitter as to be immune to the charms of a young Sangheili male being cute with children.

       Behind them, silently, Halley returned to arguing with herself.

       Pieces of MJOLNIR armor were strewn about the room when Jame walked in. She blinked in surprise, there were always jokes about what he must look like behind the helmet but she'd never seen the Master Chief out of his shell. He was scarred on just about every inch of skin that was showing, but he still managed to be one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen. He was glaring, though, and she froze.

       Then she realized what the medic was doing to him and blanched white, averting her eyes as his shoulder re-aligned with an audible snap. "Aww, that sounded terrible."

       "Didn't feel good either," the Chief grunted back. The medic moved to the other shoulder. "Can I help you?"

       "I guess you found the engines?" She smiled, and he blinked at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a grunt escaped as the second shoulder slid into place.

       "Yes." The medic moved away, and John rotated his shoulders, wincing a little at the pain.

       "Well, the company decided I should be the one to check in with you, since they're all busy at the moment, and I'm 'the new guy' of the group." She rolled her eyes. In truth it was because Crissa and Caleb had vanished to play some dirty game in some hidden corner of the ship and no one else felt like leaving their reveries to do it.

       "Ah." He seemed to hear more in her silence than she was saying. "You don't look much like a guy." He reached for his shirt and she blushed.

       "Figure of speech." She frowned.

       "Of course." He sounded far calmer and more at ease than he had the other times she'd overheard him talking.

       "Relive any good memories?" She smiled, and took a seat across from him as he reassembled his armor.

       "You could say that." The pieces of the suit snapped together like a complex puzzle. He gestured at one of them. "Could you grab that? Needs to go across my lower back but it's hard to reach with my shoulders this sore." She nodded and picked it up, fitting it in place for him. They got the armor back together, and finally he reached for his helmet. Jame fidgeted, wanting to find a way to draw their talk out a little longer but not knowing how.

       "Eh, you think we'll get out of here?"

       He actually smiled, and it was a great smile. For a man with scars all over his face, he somehow managed to have perfect teeth. "We will."

       She smiled, raising one eyebrow. "Oh, and how can you be so sure?"

       "I've seen it." He knew she wouldn't understand the meaning behind it, but he couldn't help saying it aloud again. "She's alive."

       "Who?" Jame tilted her head, puzzled.

       He debated it, how to say it without getting himself in trouble. He stared past her in thought, and she watched him go through several expressions before settling on one that looked suspiciously like adoration. Just being looked at with his eyes that soft sent a shiver through the marine. "Her."

       Jame blinked, and her lips parted.

       "My Halley." He clipped on the helmet, and left the room, brushing past Cyke, who had to turn on his heel to follow in the Spartan's wake.

       Jame stared after him, and scowled. "Drat."

       "There's another ship out there." Draconic moved onto the bridge with confidence; the girl had a way of making an entrance even without holographic help. Her hair was pulled back, a few blond strands escaping and dancing around the visor. Cyke glanced up at her; in his vision she was surrounded by dozens of information files that moved at her beck and call like trained servants. He wondered how much having a physical body was hampering her. A quick scan showed more than a third of her brain was converted into wet-wired synapses, she was moving through the remains of the computer with an ease that put him to shame.

       Jhonan followed behind, his hair a bit of a mess. He had one hand in his pocket and a sheepish look on his face. Cyke frowned and tossed a text into Drac's digital view. You two look disturbingly satisfied. What, did you learn how to dance again?

       That's one way of putting it.

       Aww, don't tell me you had--

       None of your business, babe. Never was, never will be. She ran her fingers over one of the consoles, bringing the sensors to bear on an empty area of space.

       "How can you tell?" Cortana frowned, most of her processing speed was being used to piece the mainframe back together like a shattered puzzle.

       "Empty space. No radiation, no dust." She dumped a sensor wave and calibrated the device to pick up, not the waves themselves, but the area where they sent no reading back. A faint outline of a ship appeared off the Draconic's bow. "Damn Romulans."

       "Very nice, where did you learn to do that?" Cortana smirked as the reference caught up with her lagging processors.

       "Star Trek." She smiled. "You should know all about that, Kirk would love you, blue and busty."

       "Yeah, Drac's a Trekkie about six hundred years too late." Cyke grinned.

       "It's a classic, man! Nothing will ever compare to the Twentieth century." She grinned at Jhonan. "I like bellbottoms too."

       "Okay, playtime is over kids." Matthieson sat in the Captains chair and frowned at the visual display. "That ship doesn't look human, nor is it attacking, but we can't be too careful."

       "Getting a message over the E-band." Everyone glanced to Jhonan's station. "I figured it couldn't hurt to check. Audio and visual."

       "Patch it into the main screen." The lieutenant stood up.

       The picture that resolved on the primary display was of a young man with short brown hair and a faint five o'clock shadow. He was smiling, but there was little mirth in his layered voice. "We wish to board."

       "We? I'm sorry, but I can't let you on this ship without knowing who you are or what your intentions are."

       "We are Lithili. You came seeking the artifact, and I bear her. We regret what happened to your ship; but we would help you to repair the damage and prevent future temporal rifts if you would allow us on board."

       The Master Chief frowned; it was evident in his voice. "I don't trust it."

       "We are sorry for that, luck-bearer. It was not our intention to cause mistrust." The man smiled, casually passing between "we" and "I" without much explanation as to which was which. "You seek to collect the artifacts in order to halt the flood's advance. We do as well. There are many ships seeking these things from space; I was sent from a rebel base in the Yin'chao sector to find this one. Robert Steel is dead, however. The new amalgamation we have become is necessary to guide your species to the artifacts, and there is not much time."

       The lieutenant paced, hands clasped behind his back. "You understand that we can't take this risk?"

       "Ask the reclaimer." The man smirked a bit as John started. "Lithili saw your memories, she knows what you were named by the Guilty Spark. And she did show you what you seek, reclaimer. Not an artifact itself, but an artifact bearer." John twitched inside his armor, he could still feel the soft shape of her cheek under his fingers. "We can guide you to her."

       "Easy to say." Matthieson shook his head. "But I have no way of guaranteeing that. Can we speak with your…host?"

       "Regrettably, no." The room the man was sitting in was beautiful and glittery, but nothing in the background was distinct enough to give a hint as to what surrounded him. "The host was consumed in the merge. Eventually this form will no longer be able to sustain us, and I will need a new frame."

       "So you need others around to jump into?" Cyke and Drac exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

       "Dear me, no, this body will do fine until it ages another few decades." He smiled a little. "And you seem to think we are one or the other, in truth we are both, I am Bob as much as I am Lithili. We will not harm you, we have seen the glassing of the human planets, and it is time the prophets passed into oblivion. They must not gain control of my kin."

       "Tell me one thing." John took a deep breath, and clenched a fist. "If you can see both way in time, and you could see our flashbacks, will what I saw come to pass?"

       "Perhaps. The future is a fluid thing. But it will not if you deny us passage. This vessel cannot enter the slipstream, and you cannot enter it in proximity to us if we do not allow it. I have also seen futures where you all die here in the shadow of my edifice." He shook his head. "We…we see many possibilities for you, Reclaimer, including the one you desire. I can only say that if you abandon caution and do anything in your power to pursue your goal, you have the highest chance of achieving it."

       "Let them board." Matthieson glanced at the green armored man, stunned. "They're right, we can't leave here without them, and if they will lead us to the next artifact, then half the job is being done for us."

       "You can't be serious." Cortana stared, holographic mouth agape. "This is completely out of character for you."

       He smiled behind the helmet. "Do you remember re-boarding the Pillar of Autumn? What did you tell me then?"

       "I said we weren't going to make it." She sighed. "You always do take dangerous chances."

       "Only necessary ones." He nodded at Matthieson.

       "Alright, open the starboard docking port. Let's go meet Bob." The lieutenant frowned at the Chief. "But when we get back to the UNSC I'm ordering a full psyche evaluation on you."

       "If we make it back, I'll order it myself."

       "So who are you?" Halley sat in the sand of the "playground" of Reach, leaning against a tall wooden pole. The feel of MJOLNIR armor encasing her skin felt so wonderful, she could have just lain there enjoying it for hours, but another version of herself was scowling at her and forcing her to focus.

       "I said before. I am Imriel. I am what remains of the artifact you absorbed." Imriel looked like the girl it was speaking to, only her coloration differed. Halley frowned; Imri's hair and skin color was very similar to a young Dr. Halsey's.

       "Ah, so it was you who split into a hundred pieces and shredded my hand." She clenched it into a fist.

       "No, that was a different artifact. I did not know that one by name, but it was shredded and consumed by us." She sat across from Halley, her features a strange dark mirror, deeper colors and a lack of scars.

       "Well, then where did you come from?"

       "Don't you remember the table? Dr. Adalis gave your human body the ability to house me. Well, house you."

       "You're confusing the hell out of me."

       "Ugh, try to keep up." The apparition pointed at her. "You are not the little girl that Adalis created with his and Dr. Halsey's DNA. She was wiped out when you were stuffed into her body. In order to survive in such…cramped space, we had to adapt, so I formed you. Now that we can utilize additional space in the artifact we consumed, I can finally resume some of my control…but you keep fighting back."

       "Damn straight. I am not you. I am not some Forerunner artifact. I am Halley." She stood up, taking a deep breath, and the sky overhead rumbled; clouds racing across. "I am Sixteen. I am CPO Spartan-292." She punctuated every title with a jab of her finger. "I am a demon, I am an angel according to one child, and I am Miira's friend." Lightning cracked overhead, and Imriel blinked, surprised by her control of the mindscape. "I am a soldier of the UNSC and I fly those colors proudly. I am…" She trailed off, afraid to put it in words.

       Imriel smirked, sensing weakness.

       "I am in love with my fellow Spartan, John, and I will never, ever give up this mind." She found her voice with a flourish. "Because I'm going to get back to him, and my family, and my team and nothing you say or do will stop me from going HOME!!" The mindscape shattered.

       Halley sat up, gasping, and looked over to where Patki and Miira were quietly speaking. The female Sangheili looked over curiously; Halley rarely woke up without a scream anymore. The demon nodded and laid back down, closing her eyes. The voice in her mind purred at her, sounding pleased.

       Now, we might actually stand a chance.

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