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       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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