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  • Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]

'There are many aspects of the universe that still cannot be explained satisfactorily by science; but ignorance only implies ignorance that may someday be conquered. To surrender to ignorance and call it God has always been premature, and it remains premature today.'
-Isaac Asimov

Keep up the good work. Can't wait to hear what happens next

  • 05.23.2011 2:34 AM PDT

Wow! I have never spent so long staring at my computer screen.

I will kill you if I need glasses!

  • 05.27.2011 1:12 PM PDT

Chapter 21



Muttering a curse, Bren slammed his fist down on the desk. His override codes were ineffective and he was unable to access the cruiser's bridge. He didn't know what was more humiliating: the idea that the Humans were skilled enough to lock him out, or the possibility that he had not properly set up his master overrides. Either way, the option was off the table.

Sighing with a growling breath, Bren activated the ship's internal comm line, making sure to send the proper recognition code that only a fellow Sangheili would recognize. Even in his native tongue, he didn't want the Humans knowing that there was any Covenant on board coordinating a plan to take back Unwavering Fortitude.

It took Jakli Themul only a moment to access a communications hub. "Ship Master," he prompted.

"Where are you?" Bren half asked, half demanded.

"Just aft of the portside weapons blister."

Bren clenched his teeth in thought. The distance the pilot had covered wasn't as much as Bren would have expected and he wondered if Jakli had stopped off somewhere on a private errand. Bren let the silence linger on for a few breaths, letting Jakli know his frustration. "Continue on to the Core. Signal me when you reach Engineering."

"As you wish, Ship Master," Jakli said. There was a brief squelch over the comm and the transmission was cut off.

While Bren wasn't sure if he could detect a mocking tone in the pilot's voice, he was almost certain Jakli couldn't be trusted. But if he can reset the Core, then my need for him will be done. Bren allowed himself a smile. And then I can dispose of him.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Before Nathan Parker could open his mouth and warn the ODSTs across the room of their impending doom, he was pulled down from the railing by a frantic Toril.

"Look out!" she cried.

Instead of fighting against her tug, Nathan rolled onto his back and sprung up on his feet. It was just in time. A streak of golden light splashed on the ceramic floor Nathan had just vacated, superheating the hexagonal pattern in a split second. He traced the beam back to its source and found a familiar-shaped mechanical drone he thought he would never see again.

The floating machine had just exited the hatch directly above Holmen and Parker, and while Toril's warning had saved his life, the drone was orienting to fire its under slung weapon at Nathan.

Toril didn't waste any more time and emptied her SMG clip at the target, bringing its shields down. The drone started to turn towards the new annoyance and Nathan quickly pulled out his M6 and fired at the small, protruding head. It took him four shots but the last two rounds struck the head, reducing it to slag. The drone immediately lost power and collapsed to the ground in a ruined heap.

"Contacts!" Nathan finally bellowed, his mind fully engaged in the battle.

"They know," Toril informed him. She pointed at the upper portion of the wall a dozen meters down. "There's more."

"C'mon. We're cannon fodder up here," Nathan said between clenched teeth. He glanced over the railing and saw Sergeant Williams waving Bravo and Charlie Teams down to join the rest of the soldiers at the cover of the ring of computer consoles. Several ODSTs were firing at more of the floating machines coming out of multiple hatches along the far wall.

"Move!" Toril yelled to the other members of Bravo, waving her arm in the process.

The top-level occupants flew down the ramps, ducking their heads and weaving a path to make themselves harder to target. Meanwhile, the rest of the ODSTs that were not running to cover were providing suppressing fire for the others. The whole room lit up in the exchange of opposing fire. The drones fired their golden beams at the fleeing soldiers while the cackle of UNSC weaponry tried to collapse the shields of the slower moving targets.

Nathan rounded the corner and bolted for the ring of consoles. To his left, he noticed the three outer doors were closed and outlined in eerie red lighting. Then Toril came into view, firing her second clip into a drone hovering above. He pulled her along, throwing off her aim in the process, but she didn't resist. Running as fast as they could, they were soon diving over the alien terminals to land in between their sergeant and Corporal Winters.

Nathan hit the ground first and Toril almost landed on top of him. But she rolled out of the landing and snapped to her feet as fluidly as if she had planned it. With less grace, Nathan got to his knees and took survey of the firefight.

The last of the ODSTs were leaping for cover and from a dozen different angles the floating machines herded the troopers together. The beams of energy had not yet punctured armor, but a few men had scorch marks on the backs of their legs. The soldiers from Gamma and Delta Team kept their aim true and the number of drones was cut in half by the time the last ODST made it to safety.

"Call them as you see them," Williams ordered.

"9 'o clock high!" shouted someone to Nathan's far left. "Two and Three o' clock!" another called out.

One by one, Nathan aimed his pistol and waited for the drones' shields to collapse and nailed them with a pair of headshots. Toril pointed to one floating machine dead ahead, knocked out its shields, and he finished it off.

"Clear," Miller said, as the last drone was put down a meter from the right flank.

Sergeant Williams bit out a curse and raised his MA5B. "Status." As team leaders informed him of the soldiers in their squad, the reports were fairly similar. A few got a little cooked but were otherwise okay. "Winters, can you get those doors open?"

The corporal shook his head but still pulled out his datapad to confirm his suspicions. "Whatever security protocol locked us out of the consoles triggered a lockdown of the entire room."

"So . . . Plan B?" Miller asked.

Winters nodded once and pointed to the centralized columns of blue. "The power signatures coming from these energy shafts link to the consoles and I can only assume the disruption equipment as well. Destroying these should end the jamming, if not lessen its effectiveness."

"I concur, Sir," Tanner said.

Nathan imagined Williams' face turning sour when he spoke. "Demolitions." The pair of soldiers that had previous responded to the same beckon call stood up from their crouching postures. "One of you prep the charges here and one of you take out the center door."

Both ODSTs looked at each other and the one on the left shrugged. "Sir, we're down to our last three demo-packs. We can't guarantee that just having two on--"

"More contacts!"

Nathan tore his gaze away from the conversation and turned his head upward. More of the drones were emerging from the hatches. A new wave was coming.

As he took aim at the nearest floating sentinel, Nathan knew his sergeant had a tough decision to make. They could detonate all three charges on the energy shafts and most likely perish in the blast, or they could risk using only two and hope it was enough while taking the last charge and blowing an escape route. In Nathan's mind, it made him appreciate the role of his commander and his ability to bear the weight of such a burden.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Seated in his command chair, Captain James Cutter scratched at the stubble on his face. He didn't have time to run back to his room for a quick shave, let alone trim his mustache. He then smoothed the facial hair with thumb and forefinger, calming an itch under his nose. As soon as his captaincy was presented to him, James had worn a mustache and the very thought of not having it made him cringe. At first, his wife Mary was detested by the new facial feature, but she had eventually gotten use to it.

Maybe when we return to dry dock I'll shave it off. His face then scrunched up into a frown when he thought of what Mary was going through. The crew of the Spirit of Fire would have already been announced as "lost," but knowing his wife, James would bet on her not accepting such a fate. It gave him all the more reason to finish this last mission as fast as they could and head back home.

James relaxed his face and stood. "Serina, bring weapons systems online."

The ship's AI flickered into existence on the pedestal by the tactical display and nodded. "Done."

He walked up next to Serina and activated the comm to the main hangar bay. "Spartan 092, status."

The soldier's voice came back strong and confident. "Prepped and ready, Sir."

"Anders, are you sure that EMP cannon will work on the Monitor?" James asked, recalling the initial test results she provided him being a little inconsistent.

"Only one way to find out," she said on the other end of the comm. "Jerome's the only one big enough to actually carry it, so I'm sure he'll report his findings to you."

"Well, at least they're in good spirits," Serina commented with a smile.

James allowed himself a smirk as well. "I'll give you two the green light when we exit the Slipstream."

"ETA, 31 minutes, 22 seconds," Serina provided.

Resting his bony hands on the edge of the tactical display, James leaned forward. "Good luck down there."

  • 05.28.2011 7:12 PM PDT


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Gregory Williams popped another clip into his assault rifle and ducked back down as a beam of yellow flame nearly sliced his head clean off. Things had quickly turned from bad to worse and he was right in the thick of it. A third wave of drones has just started adding to the already swarming group of targets and Greg knew his troopers could only stave off such a consistent force for so long.

The Spirit of Fire was on its way, and if the ODSTs didn't end the electrical jamming, the ship's entire crew would perish.

So this is how it ends. Greg knew that as soon as his HEV pod left the belly of the Spirit of Fire his chances of returning to the ship were slim. The unconventional way of boarding an enemy craft, and its subsequent departure, meant any form of backup would be long in waiting, if at all. He wasn't sure if the Spirit of Fire could even follow them to the installation.

All Greg knew was that if his troops didn't end the jamming signal, many more than a few squads of ODSTs could perish. And there was no telling how many more drones would enter the battle. Greg sighed and clutched his weapon tightly. He always figured going out in a blaze of glory was a hell of a way to die, but it's another thing to actually face the inferno and dive right in. He snorted to himself. Helljumpers. Now that's an understatement.

With only three demo-packs, they needed to take out the energy shafts, leaving none to spare, and in a sense trap themselves in the chamber. In the end, there was no decision to make; it was the only way. Greg pursed his lips and cleared his throat. "Prep the three charges here at the shafts."

The Demolitions specialists both slowly turned to look at Williams. "Sir?" they questioned simultaneously.

"Can you detonate remotely?" Williams asked, ignoring their plea for reason.

They looked at one another, and after a few seconds, the one on the right shook his head. "Not with this comm blackout. We'll have to use timers."

"Fine." Greg looked out at the room, noting the nearly complete lack of cover it would offer. The only real safe haven would be the far left and right corners, where the base of the ramps led to the upper level. The problem with the small, isolated spaces was that they left the ODSTs vulnerable to the floating drones. He looked over at the fellow sergeant, and pointed out the corners of the room. "Miller. Fall back to the bottom of the ramps?"

Farther down the line, Miller came to the same conclusion and nodded. "Let's try to thin these buggers out a little first. Then I say we make a break for it."

"Sounds good." Williams returned his attention to the two Demolitions specialists. "Set the charges. We'll cover you."

The pair of soldiers looked hesitant, but nodded nonetheless.

As they unpacked the rectangular gray boxes from their satchels, Williams tapped Holmen and Parker on the shoulders. "Keep those drones off their backs," he yelled over the racket of battle. The two members of Bravo Team nodded and turned around to face the demo techs. Williams moved left, down the ring of consoles, to keep an eye on the busy pair while still contributing to suppressing fire.

The three energy shafts were completely identical in shape and size. A ring of hardened material framed the base where they came shooting out of the floor and it seemed the most logical choice to place the explosives. Greg knew that blowing up anything that harnessed a power generator was risking all sorts of collateral damage, but the pulsing blue tendrils encased in the shafts spoke of a solid build that would require such wanton destruction.

As dire as the need to set the charges, the drones above hardly noticed the hurried activity. Only one such target even oriented itself at the busied techs and Holmen brought it down within three seconds of its appearance. It took the pair of men no more than three minutes to fully arm the demolition charges, but in that time, another enemy wave was beginning to pour out into the room.

One of the demo techs hurried over to Williams and got his attention by placing a hand on the sergeant's shoulder and yelling into his right ear. "How long do you want the timers?"

Greg looked out to assess the battle and felt his heart sink a little further down. The number of drones nearly doubled the size of his UNSC force, and the crossing to either corner of the room would probably be the end of every third soldier that darted the distance. A blaze of glory. He could taste the bitterness of the moment on his tongue. "Set them for two minutes." He raised his voice to notify the rest of the troopers. "Make for the base of the ramps in 90 seconds."

The demo tech nodded and held up two fingers to his fellow specialist who was sandwiched in between the three shafts. The tech poised his hand over the master controller to carry out the order.

"Mark!" Williams bellowed, and set his own countdown on his HUD.

Then out of the corner if his eye, Greg saw one of the drones not even fully clear of its hatch explode. He turned his head and saw the tracer round of Parker's SRS lead back to the ODST who was already taking aim at another drone. On the ground by the sniper was an M6 pistol void of a clip.

Greg let a smile tug at his mouth but it quickly converted to a frown when he looked back at the recent kill. The burning chassis of the floating machine had landed on the upper level walkway, but the hatch it had barely come out of was a charred mess. The light at the base of the octagonal opening was now glowing red and what was left of the bottom half of the hatch was closed.

An idea brewing in his head, his eyes widened. "Parker! Take aim at those lights on the hatches," he ordered, pointing to the nearest one on the far wall. "They must be some sort of control-release."

Nathan Parker nodded and raised his sniper rifle. His second shot seemed louder than the first, but with its focus on the true target, the result was spectacular. The round pierced through stubborn ceramic and unknown metal to cause the lock to malfunction, and the hatch slammed shut. Parker looked up at Williams.

Greg gave him a nod. "Take 'em down."

Parker systematically took out each hatch, only pausing to reload his four-round clip, and one by one, the drones' arrival was halted.

"Keep pouring it on!" Miller yelled from the other end of the console ring. There was a wounded soldier at his feet, bleeding from a severed arm, but the sergeant kept firing at the diminishing number of targets. "Get ready!"

Williams quickly looked down at the bottom of his heads-up-display and with Parker's success at combating the drones' entrances, he had completely lost track of time. "Demolitions, can you stop the countdown?" He spun his head around, but no one answered.

Finally, on of the techs stumbled over, his armor was charred black across his chest. "Can't . . ." He dropped to one knee and started coughing. "Timer's been slagged," he wheezed out. "But the countdown's been internally fused, so it will still blow."

Williams glanced over at the master control switch smoldering in the middle of the shafts and he swore out loud. Parker still had two more hatches to go, but time was out. "Come on, Parker," he said, grabbing a fistful of the corporal's collar. "Let's move!"

Another SRS round rang out and another hatch slammed shut. "One more," Parker pleaded.

"On your feet, corporal," Williams growled, hauling the man up and pushing him forward. "Everyone, let's go!" He vaulted the consoles and stepped out onto the boneyard of several dozen burned-out chassis. All around him, ODSTs where emerging from cover and heading for the two designated spots in the far corners. The remaining drones shifted their aim, but the sprinting soldiers were too fast for them to maintain any sort of accuracy.

But two likely suspects were lingering at the rear of the hurried formation. Parker was stepping out into the center of the room to take aim at the last hatch, while Holmen watched his back and brought down yet another floating machine. The sniper raised his weapon, sighted down the target, and fired.

Debris blew out around the panel, and as soon as the hatch's light switched from green to red, the room's lighting dimmed and a rumbling pulse shook the ground. At first, Williams feared the timers on the explosives were going off prematurely, but the blue energy shafts were still shining brilliantly, casting Parker and Holmen in a ghostly silhouette. He waved them on, but Parker pointed forward and Holmen soon joined him in the gesture.

Greg spun on his heel to see that the three sets of doors were slowly opening. The lockdown had ended. His eyes widened briefly before raising his voice again. "Head outside! Everyone, MOVE!"

The divided groups on his left and right darted for the doors closest to them, while Williams, Parker, and Holmen started for the central doorway. Williams' eyes glanced down at the timer on his HUD.

Fifteen seconds remained.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


"Twenty seconds to reversion, Captain."

"Thank you, Serina." Captain Cutter took a seat in his captain's chair and tried not to lean forward. "Have all hangar personnel standing by."

"Aye, Sir." Serina paused, and then added, "Ten seconds."

  • 05.28.2011 7:13 PM PDT

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Nathan cleared the doorway and kept running forward. The rest of the ODSTs were heading down the inclines in a hurried but orderly fashion. Toril was at his side, pumping her arms and quickly outpacing him with her slightly longer legs.

Out of the corner of his visor, he saw one of the demolitions experts raise his hand while he was running. He then began lowering one finger for each second. Four, three, two, one.

"Get down!" he yelled to Toril. Just getting clear of the portico, Nathan leaped with Toril, their bodies balling up in mid-air to brace for the explosion.

A flash of light from behind him illuminated the dividing walls set between the inclines and he felt the shockwave throw him to the ground. He could feel the force of the blast ringing in his teeth and his equilibrium was thrown off.

His shoulder made first contact with the ground, followed by his head, and stars immediately exploded before his eyes. He flopped forward, landing on his stomach and the wind left his lungs in a harsh crunch. With his momentum, he began sliding down the incline, face-first.

Then the sonic rumbling of too much air being displaced filled his ears and he forced his head up to gaze upon the trail end of the explosion. Ardent fire mixed with blue plasma erupted from the three doorways, much like a trio of volcanoes. The heat washed over Nathan and he cringed at the burning sensation biting at his thinnest layers of armor. As the energy vented out of the two-tiered room, the ground's rumbling began to subside.

Nathan opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and marveled at the sight. Miraculously, the structure held and shucked off the blast with only a blackened surface to show for it. He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but his lungs would only permit a hacking cough.

"Did that do it?" Toril asked from off to his left.

He placed his left arm underneath his body and pushed himself onto his right side. Typical of the corporal, she was bent down on one knee, hardly looking scathed or rattled at all. "Do what?" The ringing in his ears covered up his voice more that it did hers.

"End the jamming," she clarified.

And as if responding for her, a static squeal swelled up from his comm unit. It quickly reached the threshold and quieted back down. Nathan cycled through his unit's frequency presets and selected his comm for the default. "Sergeant?" he called into his headset mic.

"Read you loud and clear, Corporal," Williams said with more enthusiasm than Nathan thought he was capable.

"So we did it?" Winters said, his voice sounding tiny in Nathan's ear.

Toril nodded and helped Nathan to his feet with only minor moans and groans. "Let's hope we weren't too late."


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Jerome sat in the belly of the Pelican with Ellen in the side jumpseat across from him. Her arms were folded across her chest and her legs were crossed. To Jerome, she was the classic, graceful image of femininity, and she was wearing a smirk that only accentuated her already stunning features. His expression hidden behind his visor, Jerome reached out his right foot and bumped hers. In turn, Ellen clamped both of her booted feet around his ankle then quickly let go and returned to her previous pose.

Jerome smiled and dipped his head. While donning on his armor was like taking a warm bath, he missed the opportunity to give Anders a quick kiss, let alone have her know he was smiling at her. But given the professional circumstances, he knew better than to show overt affection in front of those serving under him.

Over the dropship's comm, Serina continued the countdown. "Five, four . . ."

Closing his eyes and bringing his mind to focus, he settled back in his seat. He had gone over the mission priorities in his head a hundred times. First thing was to locate those missing in action and begin evac procedures. The second was to eliminate any hostile forces that may present themselves. And the rest. . . he would make up as he went.

"Two, one . . ."

While exiting the Slipstream was usually a seamless event, he relished in the comfort that he could detect such a vast deceleration hidden to most. There it is; that slight pull in gravity. Jerome opened his eyes and looked across the Pelican's passenger compartment at Ellen. The expression she now wore was one of focus and composure. It was time to go to work.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


"Mark."

The Spirit of Fire exited the slipstream with unusual smoothness, given the replacement FTL drive's underpowered torque. Stars flashed into view, framing a background to a nearby yellow sun and an earth-like planet below. The undeniable shape of Installation B-23 was dead ahead, orbiting above the planet's atmosphere.

James Cutter squinted his eyes at the glare from the sun spilling into the bridge, but the viewports quickly polarized and he could clearly see another recognizable shape tucked right up to one of the station's lower spires.

"Covenant Cruiser," Serina identified. On one of the forward viewscreens she brought up a magnified image of the vessel. "Energy signatures match the same cruiser that we previously engaged."

Cutter nodded. "Do a system-wide scan. See if any of its friends showed up." He got up from his command chair and circled around to the tactical display. The holographic plain rose up and quickly categorized the nearby planet, the station, and both UNSC and Covenant ships.

"Scans show nothing in the immediate vicinity," Serina said. "However I am detecting a dwindling amount of electromagnetic distortion surrounding the station."

"All stop," James ordered quickly, not wanting to repeat the effects of such a destructive wave of energy.

The view outside immediately halted its slow increase in size, as the Spirit of Fire came to a sudden stop. "What are the options, Serina?"

"Sir, it appears there was a strong EM field in the area, but its power source must have just been shorted out." She turned to face Cutter and gave him a lopsided grin. "Perfect timing."

James felt his heart race for a brief moment before returning to normal. "Is it safe to continue on in?"

Serina held her chin up, as if in thought, then nodded once. "The lingering ions will be charged, but at the rate of decay we'll be within a nominal threshold."

Cutter's response was a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Sir. It is safe to approach," Serina tried again.

"What's the cruiser's status?" he asked, pointing to the floating purple image.

"They appear to be on standby. No weapons charged or active."

"Let's hope it stays that way." Cutter keyed the comm on the tactical display's panel. "Spartan, you are clear to launch."

092's response was nothing short of excitement. "Aye, Sir."

James let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Go get 'em."

  • 05.28.2011 7:15 PM PDT
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 21]

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Aww yeah, here we go.

It's funny, because the story alone made me excited before. And now as it's wrapping up and getting into the final stages, I'm sitting here, almost shaking with excitement. Gosh...

Brilliant chapter. I can't wait for the rest.

[Edited on 06.01.2011 1:13 AM PDT]

  • 05.29.2011 2:32 AM PDT
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]

Am I supposed to write something funny here?

Great stuff, once again

  • 05.31.2011 5:05 AM PDT

The Razor.

For the honour of the Mirratord.

I really need to finish reading this... Best Halo fan fiction I have read in a very long time.

  • 06.01.2011 7:50 AM PDT
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 21]

"I will show you how a true Prussian officer fights!"

"And i will show you where the iron crosses grow..."

- "Cross of Iron"

Whens the next part! Its been a while haha.

[Edited on 06.19.2011 3:46 PM PDT]

  • 06.19.2011 3:45 PM PDT

Sorry it's been so long since an update...


Chapter 22



The old cabin window started to fog over as the outside temperature began to fall with the rain. A faint sound of children laughing echoed from the kitchen to enter Alice's cluttered room that she shared with four sisters. As inviting as her siblings' joy was, Alice kept her eyes fixed on the dirt driveway quickly turning into mud.

A vehicle was approaching, dark in color and unmarked. It splashed through a recently formed puddle and came to a stop well shy of her father's beat-up utility truck. Two men dressed in military uniforms stepped out and headed for the front door.

A rhythmic knock caused the laughter from the kitchen to cut off and the gentle pattering of her mother walking barefoot to the door was the only sound in the cabin. When the door creaked open, the pounding of the rain was almost piercing to Alice's ears. She abandoned her window and went to her bedroom doorway, peeking around the corner to watch the scene unfolding in the foyer.

"Ma'am," greeted the slightly taller man. He opened his mouth to say more, but Alice's mother waved them forward, out of the rain and into the comfort of a warm, dry interior. When the door shut, the house was quiet once more.

The two men took off their hats and held their head coverings to their chests. Both of them wore apologetic expressions and Alice frowned at their demeanor.

"Mom?" Alice's oldest sister asked. "What's going on?" she implored from the kitchen's doorway. A decade older, fifteen year-old Bethany wore a mask of worry. "Is this about Malcom?"

Alice's mother turned her head slightly back around, but kept her eyes on the two guests. "It's okay, Beth. Take your sisters to the family room." Bethany complied without argument.

While her mother kept her composure, Alice saw her lips tremble as she spoke. She took a cautious step forward. "Officers?"

"Mrs. Evelyn Blagg?" the shorter man asked, tilting his head forward in the process.

"Yes," she breathed.

Alice could feel the concern radiating from her mother as Evelyn brought her hands around her torso. Alice watched the two men exchange a glance, trying to decide who should speak.

Finally the taller man spoke. While his voice was deep and resonating, he spoke with a layer of emotion that broke up his words in pairs. "It is with our deepest sympathies to inform you that Malcom Blagg was fatally wounded on the battlefield four days ago." He cleared his throat, but didn't say anything else.

Evelyn's face went pale and her eyes instantly welled up. "Malcom?" Her hands rose to her mouth and she slowly shook her head. "Malcom," she breathed. As she closed her eyes, the tears rolled down her face and Evelyn fell to her knees, her soiled dress spreading out like a tablecloth on the floor.

Alice felt emotional confusion play havoc in her mind and she stepped out into the foyer. "Mom!" She ran unashamed to her sobbing mother and wrapped her arms around her neck. Her mother's tears felt cold against her forearm, but she didn't let go. Alice cried with her mother, more to empathize than anything else. The shock of the news had not completely sunk in.

Evelyn hugged her daughter tightly and continued to cry. Her shoulders bobbed up and down and soon the rest of her children were at her side asking what was happening.

Bethany dropped down to her knees and hugged both Alice and Evelyn in a fierce embrace. She didn't have to guess to know what the two men had told her mother.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the shorter man said quietly, his voice barely loud enough to penetrate the collection of grief emanating from the center of the foyer.

Alice pulled away from her mom, feeling her own tears cloud her vision, and looked up at the two men. They donned on their hats and bowed. They opened the door to leave and the cold air mixed with rain swept into the cabin like some demon spirit coming to cause them even more discomfort. The taller man eased the door shut, but the chill was still in Alice's bones.

Frustration brewed in her mind and Alice quickly opened the door again and stepped into the pouring rain. She wanted to yell at the military men and demand some sort of explanation, but she couldn't find her breath. Her throat was too tight with grief to speak.

As the officers got in their vehicle and drove off, the sounds of the rain intensified. The hardened droplets stung her face and the wind pressed against her body, nearly knocking her backward. She shivered and winced as the volume of the downpour increased even more.

"Alice," Bethany called from inside.

She ignored her.

"Alice," another voice beckoned. It was deeper, masculine and sounded like it was coming from a great distance. "Alice!"

Reflexively, Alice brought her hands up in a defensive position and she bolted upright.

Douglas fell back on his rear and held out a hand. "Easy," he soothed.

Alice blinked her eyes and found herself in the maintenance passageway where she had left Douglas. Only he wasn't lying down. The fellow Spartan swam into focus and she frowned. "Doug?"

"You okay?" he asked, leaning forward into a more comfortable sitting position.

Snorting out loud, Alice nodded. "I should be asking you that question."

"I'll be okay. I woke up when the first burst of static reach my ears." He rolled his right shoulder experimentally and shrugged. "My armor's intact where the shrapnel hit. I just have some mild bruising."

When he dipped his head a centimeter, she sighed. "I'm fine, just . . . a bad dream."

"Alright." He tapped the side of his helmet. "You didn't hear that wash of static over the comm a little bit ago?"

The after-image of the memory still wavered in her mind and Alice frowned. It must have been the rain. "I think so." She shook her head to clear the mental fog. "Wait, the comm?"

"Yeah." He raised his chin. "Reset your frequencies and let's see if the blackout is over."

Alice complied and the static immediately vanished. When a voice rose into the silence, it was from the last person she thought she'd hear.

"Spartan 130, Spartan 042, please respond. This is 092." Jerome's reassuring voice flooded into Alice's ears, and the last lingering sadness from her memory evaporated. "I'm having trouble pinpointing your location."

Douglas let out a laugh and slapped his thigh but kept his tone professional. "092, this is 042, do you copy?"

"I copy," Jerome said with a little more pep in his voice. "You there, Alice?"

Cracking a smile, she keyed her comm. "We're here and we're okay. We'll upload our coordinates to you."

Douglas got to his feet and offered a hand to Alice. "What about the ODSTs?" he asked with a punctuating grunt as he helped Alice stand up.

"We've found their transponders, but we're still trying to raise them on the comm."

Alice frowned. "They might still be in danger, Jerome." Swapping a look with Douglas, she sighed, and with difficulty, added, "go help them."

"I'm not losing you two again," Jerome said quietly into the comm.

"You won't," Douglas quickly replied. "It's okay. They might need some extra firepower."

Though he was silent for a moment, Jerome's voice was back to its natural calm. "Copy. I'm routing a Pelican to you for evac. Hope to see you soon."

"Thanks," Douglas said.

"Jerome," Alice added. "Be careful. That Monitor left the station some time ago, but it could be back at any time."

"Don't worry. I've got that covered."

Alice exchanged a look with Douglas but he just shrugged. "Copy that. Good luck."



*** *** *** *** *** ***



Bile burned in the back of Bren's throat when the sharp angles of a Human ship emerging from slipspace appeared on one of his secondary screens. He was angry at the cursed Oracle for leading them on a wild bhrengnee hunt. He was angry at the Humans for showing up when he was trying to leave. He was angry at the Prophet of Regret for keeping this place a secret.

And most of all, Bren was angry at himself. He had allowed his thirst for glory overshadow his duty to his clan and the entire Sangheili race. And the summation of his failure was staring up at him in the form of a UNSC vessel. There was nowhere else to go. No one else to fight with him.

Save for one soul, who would just as easily betray him in the end. No, it is I alone that has to warn the Council of this place. No one else could be trusted.

He activated the ship-wide comm and hailed Jakli. "Pilot," he barked.

The fellow Sangheili's voice came through Bren's personal comm unit embedded in his helmet. "Themul, here."

Bren bit out a curse. "What are you doing broadcasting in the open?" he answered back through the ship-wide comm.

"The comm jamming has ended, Ship Master," Jakli said calmly. "And it is you who is broadcasting out in the open."

Working his mandibles in simmering anger, Bren switched to his personal comm. "Now see here, pilot. The Humans have arrived and I do not intend to go down without a fight," Bren lied through his sets of teeth. "Are you at your destination yet?"

"Yes, I'm in Engineering."

"I'm sending you the maintenance file on how to manipulate the controls to reset the Core," Bren matched actions with words and transmitted the packet to the Engineering room. "It is a tedious task, but one that is necessary to destroy these Humans."

"I'll contact you when I have finished the preparations." Jakli sighed unexpectedly. "Be careful, Ship Master."

  • 06.20.2011 1:03 PM PDT


And If Jakli doesn't properly set the Core then the ship will explode anyway. He needed to head to the bow hangar bay-and fast.

Making sure the sequencer had been loaded onto his data-bracer, Bren got up from his desk and took one last look at his quarters. For nearly three years, Unwavering Fortitude had been his home, had seen him through several battles, and made him the envy of lower-ranking ship masters. And yet he was willing to depart with the prestige, the glory . . . if only he could escape with his life.

Bren could already hear the condemning words from his superiors, demanding to know how he had lost his entire crew and ship all for an unscheduled, unsanctioned expedition. "Let them," he grumbled to himself. I have important information the Council needs to see that will clearly overshadow any failures on my part. Bren shook his head and knew it was a stretch, if not a lie.

He left his quarters and headed for the forward bay.



*** *** *** *** *** ***



Moving with a speed that would outrun a Moa, the ODSTs led by Sergeant Williams raced down the debris-covered structure. Dodging between molted chunks of metal that had solidified on the inclines' surface, the soldiers were overjoyed at the radio transmissions of one Spartan coming to their aid.

"130 and 042 have sent me a map that I'm now sending you, Sergeant." The Spartan paused for a second. "There, you should have it."

Clearing the incline and now running through the snow several meters in front of Nathan Parker, Williams held his free hand up to his helmet. "Got it," Williams confirmed. "I assume the blinking blue light is our extraction point?"

"That's an affirmative, Sergeant. We'll talk more when we meet you there."

An icon appeared on Nathan's heads-up-display and he quickly found the route they would take to the rendezvous. It was closer that he thought possible. What amazed him even still was the absence of any more drones.

"Form up," Williams ordered. "Let's double time it."

Trotting through the snow, they were upon the door they had entered and snaked their way through the hallway. Once they were through to the other side, the canyon walls presented a familiar path. Their footprints still marked their previous trek but did not lead to where they were going.

Directly off to their left, sided along the wall where the doorway was, a darkened path no wider than two meters broke off. At first, Nathan was surprised they had missed this detour, but he figured since their main focus had been to end the electrical magnetic jamming, this was a forgivable event.

Sergeant Williams led them single-file through the darkness, and Nathan had to activate his VISR mode in order to see Toril walking in front of him. He couldn't help but feel slightly claustrophobic in the confined space. My HEV pod had more breathing room.

They marched on for only a few minutes before Williams was met with a locked door. "Winters," he called back over his shoulder.

"Comin' through," the corporal announced as he squeezed past Nathan. He disappeared when the line settled again, but Nathan could still hear the man working with release panel.

It took Winters a solid minute to unlock the door and suddenly light stabbed into the narrow path unforgivably. Along with the brightness came welcomed warmth and the line was soon moving again.

Nathan switched off his visual enhancement and walked into the light. The room he stepped into was filled with computer terminals and various scientific-looking instruments. Its low ceiling seemed to press down on them and Nathan was happy to move on to the next portion of their exiting vector.

The room connected to a short hallway that dumped them out into a larger corridor that resembled the architecture styling of the first spire they had traversed through. At the end of the corridor was a wide opened doorway, and a faint sound was beginning to increase in volume. The low hum of an engine.

Taking a few long strides to reach the front of the line, Nathan reached the hall's end and entered the small hangar bay they never knew existed. A blast of exhaust from the Pelican's forward thrusters struck Nathan, and for the first time he didn't mind the foul smell.

As another Pelican entered the bay, two figures emerged from the one already parked on the tiled floor. The contrast in size of the two individuals couldn't have been more extreme as the bulk of a Spartan and the petite frame of Professor Anders marched forward to meet Sergeant Williams.

"It's Jerome," Toril whispered to Nathan.

The super soldier nodded to Williams. "Status?"

"We have a few wounded that need medical attention," the sergeant said.

The Spartan's head turned to the left and right, scanning the ODSTs continual filing into the bay. "Looks like you've been busy."

Sergeant Williams snorted. "Yeah. Busy saving your ass."

Nathan winced at the remark, but at Jerome's side, Ellen Anders tired to hide a smile and failed.

Williams held up a hand to forestall a reprimand and explained. "When the Covenant cruiser arrived here, there was a jamming signal blocking our communications and it was emitting an electronic distortion that would have brought down the Spirit of Fire, if we had not shut it down."

The Professor shook her head. "These aliens sure do like their EMPs."

"I'm guessing from some of the scorch marks on your armor that you ran into some old friends," Jerome stated more that asked.

Williams sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Can't say for sure they didn't follow us."

Anders looked up at the Spartan. "If there's a terminal nearby, I could hack into their network and disable any security that may still be present."

The Spartan raised his chin to Williams. "Sergeant?"

He poked a thumb over his shoulder. "We ran into a room with a lot of equipment back down the hall."

"Can you show me?" Anders asked, already pulling out her datapad.

Toril stepped forward. "I'll take her, Sarge."

Nathan wasn't surprised to see the beautiful professor's eyebrow rise when she heard the accented female voice of Toril Holmen. "Please."

The two women left and Nathan almost automatically pursued but caught himself, remembering his place.

"Is this your entire unit?" the Spartan asked Williams.

"Everyone that is on the station, yes. There are still a handful of our boys on the cruiser's bridge."

"We haven't been able to raise any one on the cruiser over the comm." Jerome lifted his head to look over the sergeant's shoulder at the departing women. "Then the cruiser's our next stop. Anders," he called out.

The professor turned around. "Yeah?"

"Hold tight here. I'm going to the cruiser."

Nathan was a little surprised to find Anders purse her lips in a frown. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "Be careful."

"You too."

"I'm coming with you, Spartan," Williams announced. "I've got to see this through to the end."

After a brief moment to consider, Jerome nodded. "Very well. A squad of marines will relieve your team here. If anyone else wants to tag along, make it few in number."

Slightly annoyed at the "tag along" remark, Nathan stepped forward. "Count me in." Winters joined him as well.

Without word, the Spartan spun on his heel and headed for the first Pelican. The three ODSTs followed in his wake and soon the small team was heading out the small hangar bay of the station and toward the silent Covenant cruiser.

  • 06.20.2011 1:04 PM PDT


*** *** *** *** *** ***



While Jerome was familiar enough with Covenant ship design, he allowed Williams to lead them to the bridge. He could detect weariness in the sergeant's voice, but it didn't show in his lively amble. Part of Williams' hurry was no doubt linked to the lack of response when calling on the bridge.

Jerome kept an eye on his motion tracker, but found nothing but the three yellow dots surrounding him. "How many were there on the bridge?"

"Counting the wounded, ten," Winters answered.

"Let's hope their mobile," Jerome muttered. He didn't like being on a Covenant vessel any more than the next soldier and there was a itching in the back of his mind that told him to hurry.

"We're almost there," Williams confirmed.

The Sergeant led them up a ramp and into the security station that connected with the bridge foyer. The arched doorways pulsed a violet color and as soon as Jerome crossed into the foyer, static squealed over the comm. "Damnit, not again."

Behind him, still in the security station, one of the ODSTs bringing up the rear stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Comm's out," Williams growled.

"Mine's not," the rear guard said.

Frowning Jerome walked back to the ODST and found his comm clear up when he left the foyer. "It's just the bridge. They must have a local disruptor on, or something."

"Can they do that?" the other soldier asked, fidgeting with his SRS.

Jerome shrugged. "It explains why we haven't made contact with the rest of your team."

"C'mon," Williams coaxed and started for the opened area of the bridge proper.

The four soldiers marched through the foyer with weapons ready, only to find the last group of segregated ODSTs aiming their own MA5Bs at them in several defensive positions behind support pillars. "At ease," Williams blurted out.

"Sergeant?" one of the wounded yelled from deeper in the vast room. He tried to sit up from his awkward lean against the backside of a console but cringed and remained seated. "Were the hell have you guys been?"

"Busy." Williams walked over to the center of the group as another ODST, a corporal, greeted him with a nod of the head. "Why didn't you use the ship's comm?"

The corporal pointed to the row of consoles closest to him. "We tried but it didn't work. A little bit ago our personal comms crackled and we thought the blackout was over."

Winters moved past Williams and typed away at the Covenant terminals. He shook his head. "I don't get it, Sir. We had relative access to the bridge before we left."

Covies. Jerome frowned and shrugged. "At this point, it doesn't matter. We're getting off this ship."

"Copy that," the seated, wounded soldier said emphatically. He waved Williams over to help him up and he let out a groan in the process.

Jerome noticed several other ODSTs slowly standing with field bandages wrapped around arms, legs, and torsos. Most looked capable of making the trip back to the hangar on their own, but the few that needed assistance got it from the half squad that stayed to protect them. As soon as the last soldier was up Jerome motioned them out. "Let's move," he announced, and led them off the cruiser's bridge.

As soon as Jerome cleared the security station, his radio crackled. "Spirit of Fire, we are heading for the hangar," he informed Cutter. "Keep an eye on the cruiser's energy sig. Something's not right here."

"We copy, Spartan," the Captain responded promptly. "Do you need any backup?"

"Negative. We're on our way out." Jerome switched off his comm and looked back over his shoulder. The ODSTs were keeping pace but he could tell they were in a lot of pain.

Corporal Parker, who wasn't hindered by helping a wounded soldier, hurried to Jerome's side. "Is the Captain going to destroy this place?"

Jerome turned the corner and picked up his pace. "Hell if I know."

"He should," Williams muttered. "Blow this cruiser and that station clean out of orbit." Winters agreed with a grunt.

The bow hangar was just as Jerome had left it. The Pelican had its tail pointed against the portside wall and its engines were lit and ready to go. Jerome halted in the forward arched entrance and stepped aside, allowing the flow of ODST to head to the Pelican. He stood on his toes to peer over the top of the UNSC dropship and found the single Phantom still sitting lifeless at the far end. Apart from the two ships, the hangar was relatively empty.

Bringing up the rear, Jerome kept his eyes moving, searching for any threat that might be lingering on the balcony above or stepping through the half dozen ground-level entryways. As he approached the Pelican, the co-pilot was waving everyone in and assigning the wounded to certain seats.

Williams stood on the ramp, sweeping his gaze across his men. "All accounted for," he said over the revving of the engines.

Jerome nodded and took a step onto the ramp, but a sudden flicker of red blur on his motion tracker stopped him from lifting his other boot. He instantly dropped to one knee, spun around, and aimed his MA5B.

But where the red dot had once been was only a flat, ceramic-coated wall. Jerome frowned and stood slowly.

"Sir?" Williams asked.

Jerome looked both left and right down the portside wall but found nothing. "Got a contact."

The sergeant snorted. "With all due respect, Sir, screw the contact and let's get the hell out of here."

The red dot appeared again, this time in the direction of the Phantom. He oriented to the fading blip and pointed. "Hold tight, Sergeant. The last thing we need is a Covie tailing us while we make for the Spirit of Fire."

Out of the corner if his eye he could see Williams peer around the rear of the Pelican. "Parker, Winters. Form up with--"

"No, stay here," Jerome ordered. "I'll only be a moment."



*** *** *** *** *** ***



Bren 'Rangdamee could not believe his utter lack of luck. Not only was he trying to escape from the pilot assassin, but the Humans just happened to land in the one place he needed to be. And to top it off, his system overrides were null and void at every terminal he found. He couldn't access the Self-Destruct sequencer; he couldn't even scuttle his own ship. His data-bracer was useless and the only option he had left was to abandon the ship and hope the Humans destroyed any evidence of his failure.

He cursed his broken armor for shorting out his active camouflage and tried to stay hidden along the outer hallway that ran the length of the bay. He slowly walked down the purple colored hall and froze when he heard alien voices. He quickly pinned himself against the wall and scooted down to the nearest open entryway. Bren risked a look and found one of the Human dropships idling a few paces to his left.

And a Demon was with them.

He silently cursed and reeled his head back. He had to leave now. Taking a deep breath, he bolted down the hallway in his awkward half-limp, half-run manner. He heard another outburst of the Human tongue but tried to increase his pace nonetheless. As he ran Bren looked left, seeing the Phantom flash between the entryways he passed. If I can get to the aft end of the hangar, I can circle around and slip into the Phantom without them seeing me.

The pain in his back began to return like some ancient monster roused from slumber, but he clamped down his mandibles and turned the corner. Two-dozen paces later he was at his entryway. A stone's throw away, the Phantom was unpowered and resting on its landing struts, but those facts would play to Bren's advantage. Staying low to the ground and hunching over, he crept towards the Phantom, using the ship's size to block any Human eyes from seeing his approach.

He crossed the last few paces in a gallop and opened the rarely used cockpit door on the starboard side. Bren breathed a sigh of relief when he found the interior dark and empty. Years of mindless training kicked in and he initiated the startup sequence from memory. Quietly, power began to pulse through the instruments, slowly bringing the ship to life . . . .

Without warning, something solid hit the back of Bren's neck and pain flooded into his nervous system. He fell forward, landing hard on the steering console, and was immediately yanked back up and over the co-pilot's chair. Numbness covered his entire body like relentless stabbing needles and he collapsed onto the passenger bay floor.

Lying on his back, Bren's head lulled to the side, giving him a view of a pair of Sangheili hooves.

Jakli Themul's laughter wasn't booming or sinister but came out as a disappointing lilt. "You are a sorry excuse for a ship master," he said casually.

Bren tried to snap back a retort, but his lungs wouldn't provide him with enough strength. As the numbness began to subside, he rotated his head to look up at the glaring pilot.

Circling around to Bren's other side, Jakli folded his arms across his chest and snorted. "Fool. You think your little side trip to find some babbling Oracle would bring you the eyes of the Fleet Commander? Bypassing your mission for a wild pursuit of glory?" He kicked Bren in the leg, coaxing a response. "Did you not think the Council would provide some insurance that the true mission would succeed? Did you really expect to find Forerunner ruins?"

Bren frowned when he heard the pilot's relentless string of questions. Surely this Sangheili is lost to madness. Bren lifted his head and found his voice. "But we have."

Jakli bent down to stare directly into Bren's face. "Not by design," he snapped back. "If you hadn't have followed the Oracle's signal back at the refueling station you would have continued on to the remote world of your real mission to find nothing but empty ruins of an abandoned Kig-Yar colony."

Confusing rippled in Bren's mind. "What?" he breathed. "But the Council--"

  • 06.20.2011 1:05 PM PDT

"You know nothing of their will!" Jakli hissed. He grabbed Bren's throat and slowly stood him up. "There are members of the Council that move with the shadows, speak with whispers, and kill in silence." Jakli pulled Bren closer. "I am but their instrument."

Bren's eyes grew wide when the realization that Jakli truly was an assassin hit him like a punch to the gut. The Council commissioned my demise? "This . . . can't be," he said in disbelief, feeling his chest tighten.

Jakli sneered out a breath. "It has to be."

The assassin raised Bren higher then tossed him against the back compartment wall. Stars exploded before his eyes as Bren sank to the ground. He quickly tried to find his feet, but Jakli was upon him in an instant. Bren feebly raised his arms to block the forceful blows coming from his attacker, but Jakli was younger, uninjured, and faster.

The only thing Bren had going for him was his anger, and from deep within he let out a cry and swung his right fist around to connect with the side of Jakli's helmet. The pilot stumbled back a half step but quickly recovered. Bren tried to pummel him again but Jakli answered back with his most powerful punch. The assassin's fist struck Bren in the side and forced all the air out of the ship master's lungs.

Bren stumbled to the ground, fighting for air. In his attempt to remain upright, he reached out to the compartment walls and felt his hand connect with a release panel. One of the side doors troopers used to rush into battle began to unfold behind his back.

But Jakli quickly grabbed a fist full of Bren's collar and tossed him against the opposite side door. The assassin moved in a blur and landed one more blow to Bren's head while swiping the ship master's Energy Dagger from his belt.

Gasping for breath, Bren knew he was staring death in the face. There was no hope of survival, no last chance to confess or redeem his past mistakes. He would die a failure and shame his clan all because of his own lust for faded glory and translucent honor.

Jakli stood over him, pinning Bren's arms in place with his hooves, and let out another laugh. "Killed by your own weapon," he commented, examining the blade with a nod. "Where is the honor in that?"

Bren looked up, wanting to remain defiant to his last breath but knowing he wasn't. At this point, he just wanted all of this to be over. As Jakli raised the glowing blade, Bren closed his eyes and embraced his fate.

But instead of the sound of his last breath clashing with an opened, bleeding throat, Bren heard a metallic thud. He opened his eyes just in time to see the Sangheili assassin hurtling through the air to land at the back of the passenger compartment. Bren eyes darted to the silhouetted figure standing on the unfolded starboard-side door.

The Demon.

Jakli scrambled to his feet and let out a warrior's cry. Both Demon and assassin charged the short distance, the former tossing his rifle to the ground and keeping low in his stance. Jakli sliced the Energy Dagger downward and would have split the Demon from left shoulder to right hip, but the Demon dodged left and brought his right elbow up, smashing it against the back of Jakli's head. The blow pitched him forward, but he instinctively kept his weapon swinging, keeping the Demon from advancing.

Bren frowned when he noticed the Demon wearing a large, blocky device that was strapped to his back. It was any wonder how the Demon could move with such a hindrance, but it didn't seem to affect his movement at all.

The two squared off again, Jakli taking a more cautious stance, but rushed on before the Demon could shuffle his feet. The assassin stabbed the blade forward and the Demon reeled back. Jakli laughed out loud and pressed again, herding the Demon deeper into the corner.

But when the Demon's rear foot made contact with the wall behind him, he sprung forward and collapsed his hands around Jakli's weapon-wielding wrist. The Demon moved faster than Bren had ever seen anyone in combat, and the Human raised Jakli's arm up over both their heads. The Sangheili kicked at his attacker, but the Demon's armor easily absorbed the blows.

Jakli tried one last punch with his free hand and connected with the Demon's helmet, but it seemed to have no effect. Bren could have sworn the Demon chuckled before tugging the Energy Dagger loose from Jakli's hand and quickly bringing it down to slice off the assassin's arm at the shoulder. His detached arm fell to the ground in a sickening thud and the rest of his body joined it in a pool of blood.

Without waiting, the Demon finished the kill and decapitated Jakli in a one last swing of the blade.

Bren stared at the super soldier in complete awe. Never before had he witnessed such conservation of motion and efficiency in combat. And then it clicked in his head that the Demon was just that: a Demon. The forestalling of Bren execution was just a temporary thing and would instead be carried out by a masked figure. At least there is some honor in this death.

But oddly enough, the Demon deactivated the blade and tossed it into Bren's lap. Is he offering me the chance to take my own life?

A beeping from the lifeless body brought both of their gazes to the flashing lights on Jakli's data-bracer. The assassin's body was twisted and his left arm was sprawled out on the deck. Bren squinted and could barely make out the symbols quickly scrolling across the small holo-readout. Oh, no. No!

As the last symbol winked out, a muffled rumbling echoed through Unwavering Fortitude's hull and gravity ceased to exist. The occupants inside the Phantom were thrown upward and hit the ceiling hard. They hung there for several breaths before the cruiser's emergency gravity generators running on battery backup kicked in and tossed them back down to the compartment floor. But they landed at an angle and the Demon lost his balance and tumbled out the opened side door.

As Bren began to slide forward to meet the same fate as the Demon, he reached out to the release panel and the doors quickly folded shut. He looked down at Jakli's data-bracer and cursed the assassin out loud. Jakli had not only succeeded in finding a way to hack the cruiser's computer system, but managed to automate his body's biometric reading so that if he should die before personally cutting the ship's power, Unwavering Fortitude would still go down with Bren still on board. By giving the assassin access to the Core reset function, Jakli had only partially carried out the command and left the cruiser disconnected from the primary power source. Bren had faulted once more.

Growling past the pain and frustration, Bren crawled to the cockpit. Out through the forward viewports he saw that the Phantom had been launched into the upper balcony of the hangar and was looking out over the bay. Bren managed a quick-start and gunned the engines. He could feel the sluggish response of bent steering vanes and partially functioning thrusters, but the Phantom cleared the top level and he pointed the nose to open space.

But something wasn't right. His instruments were telling him his altitude was dropping rapidly even before he cleared the fading magnetic containment field. The Phantom exited the hangar bay and swooped out from underneath Unwavering Fortitude.

When Bren checked his scanners on the dropship's secondary holoscreen, he saw that the cruiser was falling.

Falling away from the Installation and down into the planet's atmosphere. Within mere moments the ship that Bren 'Rangdamee had once called his very own would be no more.

  • 06.20.2011 1:06 PM PDT
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]

"I will show you how a true Prussian officer fights!"

"And i will show you where the iron crosses grow..."

- "Cross of Iron"

Another awesome part.

  • 06.20.2011 9:47 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Holy crap. The wait was well worth it. Well worth it.

  • 06.21.2011 2:13 AM PDT
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 22]

Am I supposed to write something funny here?

Awesome.

EDIT: When the next part is released?

[Edited on 06.21.2011 11:20 AM PDT]

  • 06.21.2011 11:19 AM PDT

Chapter 23


Jerome's world was spinning madly before him as he sailed through the air. He couldn't tell which way was up or down, but he knew he was being thrown in some direction and the inevitable sudden stop at his journey's end would arrive with a certain degree of pain.

So it came as no surprise that when he smacked his right side against something solid, his armor did most of the work to absorb the impact. But there was an amount of vibration that rocked his nerves when he rolled onto his back and slid to a stop against a wall. The fall from the Phantom had been a good two-dozen meters, nothing that he wouldn't have had trouble with had his feet been underneath him, but making contact with the ground by shoulder and hip was a quick way to broken bones.

Jerome tried to scramble to his feet, but the wash from the Phantom held him in place until the dropship ducked down over the ledge. Ledge?

Jerome looked around and found himself on an illustrious balcony complete with banners and finely crafted balustrades. He hurried over to the ledge of the balcony but the Phantom had already slipped through the hangar bay's field. He leaned forward and suddenly noticed the magnetic containment field was flickering out of existence. Oh sh--

With a sudden snap, the atmosphere was now fleeing out of the gaping opening, and Jerome held on to a nearby pillar so as to not be vented out as well. He glanced over to where the Pelican had been parked, but saw it was no longer there. He looked all around the hangar and figured it must have already left. What little remained in the hangar was carried out with the air, and the only lighting was emergency glowpanels trying their best to illuminate the vast space. It resembled a mammoth make-shift tomb.

I've got to get out of here. Jerome looked to the back wall of the balcony but the pedal-shaped doors were void of power. He looked over the edge again to see about jumping down to the hangar bay floor but something else caught his attention.

Looking down through the rectangular opening the magcon field once filled, the planet below was rising up. Jerome's eyes widened when he realized what was happening. The cruiser was free-falling into the world's atmosphere.

Jerome didn't know how it was happening or why, but with the hangar's integrity compromised, no door would open that would lead to the safer interior of the cruiser. He was trapped.

And with sad resignation, Jerome knew he was alone with no hope of escape.


*** *** ***


Nathan Parker felt as if his stomach was coming out through his nose when the Pelican buckled and tossed him to the other side of the passenger bay. The rear door automatically began to close but not before the co-pilot fell out only to disappear from sight when the dropship rose into the air. Then without notice, the Pelican began twisting and turning, pinning them to the sides of the interior walls as the dropship fell through the cruiser's containment field and out into wild space.

Feeling completely disoriented, Nathan was glad when the Pelican's artificial gravity kicked in and the ODSTs eased to the floor with aches and pains. His vision was still rotating like a case of vertigo and he held on to the jumpseat nearest him. Nathan searched for Sergeant Williams, but he found his commander lying on the floor, lifeless. He's out cold.

Struggling against the sickening feeling, Nathan started for the cockpit, pulling himself along by whatever means necessary. He groped his way forward and made it to the doorway only to look out the forward viewports at an ever-changing vista. The Pelican was falling through space, just above the planet's atmosphere, but being able to see the view shifting helped Nathan find a grounding point to his own spinning vision. He wasn't experiencing vertigo; the dropship was tumbling bow over aft.

Nathan glanced down at the pilot struggling with the controls and the Pelican's chief reared his head back and shouted. "Need a little help up here!"

"I got it," Nathan quickly said and lowered himself into the co-pilot's seat.

The pilot's head snapped over to Nathan. "Where's Vestov?"

"Gone," he said, trying to strap himself in through the varying shifts in gravity. "What do you need me to do?"

The pilot turned forward again and pointed to the dual-handle steering column in front of Nathan. "Grab the controls and pull up."

Parker complied and grabbed the handles. At first he felt the strong resistance of a ship completely out of control, but as he began to pull the steering column towards him he heard the thrusters whine in protest. Gritting his teeth, he pulled even harder.

Beside him, the pilot bobbed his head up and down. "Keep it coming. She's starting to give."

Nathan nodded, took a better grip on the handles, and continued to pull. The stars outside began to slow their twirling dance and the engines' pitch piped down to near tolerable levels. He glanced over at the pilot who slowly nodded.

"Easy, now." He lifted his head and flipped a few switches above. "Alright, you can let go."

Complying with the pilot, Nathan hesitantly slackened his tug on the controls, but the steering column stayed put. The Pelican was no longer flipping over and soon the side-to-side movement was corrected as well.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the pilot activated the comm. "Spirit of Fire, this is Charlie 119."

"We see you, 119," a steady voice came back instantly. "Get clear of the cruiser."

As the pilot brought the Pelican around in a lazy arc, Nathan could see that the Covenant ship was steadily sinking into the planet's upper atmosphere. "What the . . . what happened?"

"The cruiser suddenly lost primary power and is losing altitude," the Flight Control operator informed them.

A new voice that Nathan identified as Captain Cutter cut through the rest of the explanation. "Did everyone make it out?"

"Lieutenant Vestov didn't make it, Sir," the pilot informed him.

Nathan looked back over his shoulder at the groaning collection of ODST, both wounded and slightly dazed. All of the soldiers were accounted for . . . minus one. Nathan's heart sank into his stomach. "I'm sorry, Sir, but the Spartan's not with us."

There was a pause over the comm which Nathan interpreted as Cutter cursing. "Spartan 092, come in," the Captain called. "092, do you copy?"

Nathan pointed out the cockpit viewport and grabbed a fistful of the pilot's right sleeve. "What are you waiting for? Let's go get him!"

The pilot shrugged off Nathan's hand and stabbed a finger towards the keel of the cruiser. "Their magcon fields are gone, there's no way we could land inside that thing."

As the Pelican blasted away on a new heading, Nathan saw the Covenant ship completely clear the station's spire and watched helplessly as it began its final descent.


*** *** ***


Alice and Douglas were just about to head up the hatchway's ladder and into the Pelican's docking collar when Captain Cutter's plea for Jerome to answer came without a reply. Alice dropped back down to the floor and looked at Douglas.

The fellow Spartan brought his hand up to his helmet and activated his comm. "Jerome, what's going on?"

When there was no response, Alice listened to the quick conversation between Cutter and the Pelican Jerome should have been on. When it was clear that Jerome was still on the doomed cruiser, her eyes widened and she bolted up the ladder.

Douglas was fast behind her and once they cleared the docking collar and entered the Pelican, they pushed aside the marines offering help. "Move it!" Douglas belted and the path to the cockpit cleared before them.

The dropship's pilot turned partly around and confusion spread on his face.

Alice marched right up to him and poked her thumb over her shoulder. "Out. Now."

The pilot visibly swallowed. "Ma'am, I--"

"Now!" Douglas yelled. As the pilot clicked off his restraints and sliced between the two armored figures, Douglas and Alice took the controls. Douglas began activating the thrusters as Alice called for the marines to retract the docking collar. "Just close the damn hatch!" Douglas ordered, after one of the marines mentioned how long it would take to gather the collar.

Once Douglas heard the hatch close, the Pelican fired away from the station, ripping the docking collar apart at its joint. One of the marines swore but the Spartans ignored the muttered complain. Douglas leveled out the dropship long enough to clear the central base of the station then dove downward along one of the lower spires.

Alice tried the comm again. "Jerome, come in."

A tiny burst of static came over the Pelican's comm and Alice's hands flew over the controls, fine-tuning the frequency. "Jerome?"

"I'm in the forward docking bay," Jerome answered, his voice sounding strained.

Alice pointed forward out the cockpit window to the bow of the cruiser now looming before them and Douglas poured more power into the Pelican's drives.

  • 06.21.2011 7:07 PM PDT



"Don't try to board the cruiser. It's--"

"Just hold on," Douglas butted in.

"No. Listen. The docking bay is totally vented," he tried to explain.

"That hasn't stopped us before," Alice offered, feeling like she was fighting more with Jerome than the circumstances.

"And this thing's starting to burn up on reentry," he calmly added.

Even as his words sunk in, Alice knew they would be too late. At the outer edges of its hull, the Covenant cruiser started to glow a fiery orange. Without a proper vector and speed, the ship would fracture and come apart before their eyes. "No," she breathed.

"I'm sorry," Jerome sighed.

Alice looked at the console, searching for some hidden button or switch that could coax more power to the Pelican's engines, but Douglas' hand was soon upon hers.

"There's nothing we can do," Douglas said quietly.


*** *** ***


From inside the computer room, Anders pulled up a visual feed on one of the many holoscreens to watch the cruiser break away from the station, and she figured the Spirit of Fire was going to blast it out of orbit. But when the series of conversations played out, she learned that Jerome was still on the cruiser and unable to escape.

She hastily accessed the consoles programs, using her running translation algorithm, and brought up the data on the Covenant ship. It was void of main power and was on a fast descent into the planet's atmosphere. Her stomach turned to ice and she brought trembling hands up to her comm. "Jerome?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"What do you mean?" she demanded. "Just . . . just jump off!" She watched the cruiser's altitude begin to fall more rapidly and she slammed her fist against her thigh.

"Can't. Not enough time." His short replies were enough to let Ellen know he was resigned to the facts.

She switched her comm for a private channel. "Damnit, Jerome, not now! Not--" her voice broke up and her eyes welled with tears. She felt the weight of utter helplessness press down on her shoulders like some predatory carrion. "I . . . I--"

"I know, Ellen," Jerome said, reading her thoughts. "I love you too."

As the cruiser started to flash heat around its hull, Ellen fell to her knees and leaned against the side of the console. The female ODST was at her side in an instant but, she couldn't hear her words. The static wash from her headset blurred out all thoughts not on the one man that had found a way to speak to her soul. All she could do was cry.


*** *** ***


Even though the joints in his MJOLNIR, Jerome could feel the heat increasing. He had managed to make it back down to the docking bay floor, but the possibilities of him being able to get to the outer hull and jump to the safety of a personal reentry was impossible. And without proper shielding, he would experience the same heat buildup the dying ship was undergoing. The cruiser's outer layers were already melting away, given the odd angle of approach, and Jerome would soon join them in a wash of fire.

He watched the bay's opening begin to tear and peel back like paper thrown into fire. The red and orange mixed together to beautifully contrast the dark side of the planet below, but the ceramic quickly charred a thick black and disappeared out of the bay, expanding the large hangar entrance with each passing second.

It was odd to Jerome that if he had not talked with Ellen Anders, he would have gracefully accepted his fate of sacrificing himself for others. But getting to know her-- to love her-- had complicated things and his anger burned like the embers flaking off of the hull. Just when I had something more to look forward to.

Golden highlights began to form across his vision and he marveled at the color, breaking off his brewing temper. It sparkled and shimmered as white rings added to the collage. He reached his hand up to run it through the swirling golden mist, but his hand stopped short and he frowned.

Jerome suddenly felt the ground leave his feet and he looked down at the glowing, melting floor.

But it was no longer there. The world seemed to evaporate into a brilliant white light and collapse back into itself in the span of a single breath. Jerome's visor tried to adjust, but when gravity returned, he fell to solid ground in a dark place.

A single glowing blue light from up above illuminated his hands. Jerome pushed himself off the floor and straightened up. The light shifted and was followed by a voice. A familiar voice.

"Ah, another Reclaimer!"

What? Jerome shook his head and found the Monitor casually hovering above. "How did I get here?"

"Using the Local Transportation Grid, of course. You were just inside the envelope when I returned to Installation B-23. Good thing I arrived when I did, otherwise I would have to start over again."

Jerome looked around the small, heptagonal room and found his visor adjusting to the low light. All around him were arched entryways that led down darkened halls, and right in front of him was a pillar with a spherical terminal cut into one of the sides. The terminal pulsed with orange and blue veins around a yellow pupil. "Where are we?"

The Monitor swooped down. "We are at one of the many terminals found on this Installation. It [i[was[/i] an afterthought, but still useful to some."

"Hmm." Jerome felt behind his back and unfastened the latches of the tool Anders had improvised. While it was bulky, it would soon be worth bringing. "And why did you bring me here?"

"The others were uncooperative," the alien AI said quietly. The Monitor paused and his eye flickered yellow for a split-second. Jerome stopped his retrieval of the device strapped to his back and folded his arms across his chest. "Surely you understand the need for cooperation?"

"For what?" he said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.

"To activate the new Index at Installation 03. The information is easily accessible from this terminal, should you wish to see the relevant data." The Monitor dipped forward and came down to Jerome's side. "Perhaps I should have allowed the others to interact with such a tool."

Jerome raised an eyebrow. "Others?"

"Reclaimers, like you," the AI clarified. "Though they kept insisting on getting approval from their commander, they eventually turned hostile." The Monitor turned to face Jerome, hovering a half meter from his face. "Will you be like them, or will you offer assistance?"

Recalling Alice's caution when dealing with the alien AI, Jerome knew he had to catch it off guard. "What do you need?" he tried.

The Monitor perked up. "Splendid! We will need a transport capable of reaching Installation 03, which I am sure you can acquire. I can guide us to our destination once we're on board."

Jerome nodded and pointed to the terminal. "And this 'data' you referred to, can you show me?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course!" The AI instantly broke out into a humming melody as he started for the pillar holding the spherical terminal.

Jerome didn't waste any time. As soon as the Monitor had its back to the Spartan, Jerome pulled the EMP weapon off his back and primed the charge. The AI was still humming, oblivious to the fate it would soon suffer.

But Jerome didn't offer any final comment, nor did the Monitor turn to face him. It was the antithesis of a cliché and Jerome fired Anders' device. The brilliant red beam lit up the entire room in a flash and it struck the Monitor square in the chassis. Jerome struggled to keep the stream of the pulse focused on the AI and held on by sheer strength. The Monitor emitted a whine that sounded more human than Jerome thought possible.

When the device was drained of power, Jerome heard a metallic thud and the red beam abruptly shut off. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden change of lighting, he found the Monitor on the floor, lying on its side. Its large eye was completely void of any illumination and Jerome eased his EMP weapon to the ground. He placed his armored boot on the Monitor and gave a slight kick, causing the lifeless AI to do a pair of rolls before banging against the pillar.

He then looked up at the terminal and found it was partly flickering with the glow of functionality. Jerome shrugged to himself and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Moments ago, he was doomed to be crushed in the wreckage of a Covenant cruiser, but now he had hopefully ended the battle of this whole excursion for good.

He flicked on his comm and heard the sounds of someone weeping. His heart seized in his chest when he recalled that Ellen had accessed their private frequency before he was taken to his current place. He bit his lower lip and swallowed. "Ellen," he whispered.

Over the comm there was a sniff followed by a throat clear. "Jerome?" Ellen breathed, her voice sounded shaky.

"It's me," he said softly. "I'm still here. Well, not on the cruiser."

"Where are you?" Ellen blurted out.

"I'm not exactly sure. The Monitor brought me to the station, but--"

"Is he still with you?" She interrupted.

Jerome looked down at the EMP weapon and smiled. "Oh, I took care of him, thanks to you." Her stuttered laughter poured like music into his ears.

The quiver in her voice gone, Ellen sighed. "Thank God. Hold on a sec." Jerome could hear her entering information into her datapad. "Okay, I've got your transponder locked in. I'll switch to the standard comm channel."

Jerome matched her words with his own actions. "This is Spartan 092 reporting in."

*** *** ***

  • 06.21.2011 7:08 PM PDT


Bren kept the Phantom's engines running at full speed, making sure to keep the dying cruiser between him and the Human vessel. But as Unwavering Fortitude started to fracture and crack at its midsection, Bren was already well out of sensor range and he began to breathe easier. He eased the throttle back and slumped in his seat.

His whole body ached with pain and fatigue and he wanted nothing more than to sleep the sleep of the dead. He craned his neck and looked back at the diced corpse of Jakli Themul. As much as he wanted to blame the assassin for his troubles, Bren knew better.

He knew that if Themul had been sent by the Council, as he had told Bren, then returning to the Fleet could very well end his life then and there. Bren ran his hand over his face to smooth out his contemplative expression. The Sangheili he needed to inform the Forerunner findings to may very well be the ones that commissioned his assassination. Growling to himself, Bren didn't know where to go.

Raising his head, Bren recalled that he was in Wild Space, and the only way to return to a Covenant-controlled sector was to backtrack to the refueling station. At least there I could get proper medical attention.

His head hurting too much to do any more thinking, Bren sighed and plotted in the slipspace jump. When the Phantom leaped forward into the dark abyss, Bren closed his eyes and slept.


*** *** ***


"I copy, 092." James blew a noisy breath out his nostrils and shook his head. He was certain that he had lost a Spartan, but now it seems things were beginning to settle down. But not without worrying me half to death. "Pelicans are rerouting to your position."

Captain Cutter stood at the forward viewport of the Spirit of Fire's bridge and watched the Covenant cruiser continue its smoldering fall into the atmosphere below. Perhaps it is over. He thought it odd that he was preparing to engage in another battle with the Covenant ship and yet the cruiser went down without a single MAC round fired. All of the lost soldiers were found and apart from securing the last Spartan's whereabouts, it seemed the day was won. Only one variable remained.

"Serina," he called over his shoulder.

"Yes, Captain?"

He turned around and pointed to the tactical display located at the center of the bridge. "Patch through to 092's visual feed. See if you can offer any help to Anders when she arrives." He activated his comm. "Professor, I'd like you to make sure that Monitor won't be causing us anymore problems."

"Aye, Captain."

The display lit up with the image of the alien AI lying unmoving on the glossy white floor. The Spartan turned his head to the right and the view shifted to show the pillar with the eyeball-shaped terminal 092 had informed them of.

As Cutter stepped up beside Serina's pedestal, he thought he heard her gasp. "Problem?" He looked over at the ship's AI and found the skin around her eyes tightening.

"Interesting." Serina was silent for a few more breaths before activating the comm. "Professor Anders."

"Here," she responded amidst the sounds of engine wash. "We're just about to head to Jerome's location."

Serina folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head. "When you arrive, I'd like you to send an uplink to that terminal Spartan 092 has found."

"Uh, I can handle the data procurement, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, please do." Serina leaned forward, studying the terminal more closely. "I'd like to get a closer look, is all."

James frowned and felt his brow crease. "Everything alright, Serina?"

She shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the display. "Of course, Captain." She glanced over to her right and then turned to face Cutter. "The first Pelican carrying wounded has just arrived. Medtechs are standing by."

James nodded but still felt a tingling of uncertainty in the back of his mind. He didn't know what Serina found so mesmerizing about the Forerunner terminal, but if they could grab whatever information they could quickly, the faster they could plot a course back to Human-controlled Space.

  • 06.21.2011 7:09 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

So there is still something to do with Serina in this.

Wicked chapter, man. When the scale of the scenario hit me, I was in awe. Brilliant stuff.

  • 06.22.2011 4:20 AM PDT
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 23]

Am I supposed to write something funny here?

Indeed, brilliant stuff. ETA on the next part?

[Edited on 06.22.2011 10:10 AM PDT]

  • 06.22.2011 10:10 AM PDT

Chapter 24



Alice stepped into the seven-sided room with Douglas and found their missing Team Leader sitting down, leaning against the central pillar. Spartan 092 slowly raised his head and gave a mock salute. A smile spread across her face and she imagined a smirk was behind Jerome's visor.

Jerome waved them over to help him up and both Alice and Douglas grabbed a hand and hauled him to his feet. "You two got here quick," he commented, switching his gaze from one Spartan to the other. "What did you do, hijack a Pelican?"

Douglas snorted and pulled both of them in for a three-way hug, their armor clanking against each other.

Alice felt warmth flood into her and swallowed past the tightness in her throat. They were back together again. Red Team was whole.

"You two okay?" Jerome asked, stepping back to get a better look at them. "Things didn't get too crazy, did they?"

Alice harrumphed. "Oh, nothing much, really. Just fought against mutant aliens, Covies, and those crazy floating drones."

Douglas looked down at the Monitor. "And it seems you got bagged the biggest game." He gave the alien AI a poke with his boot. "How'd you manage that?"

Jerome pointed to the oddly shaped device lying on the floor a few meters away. "Actually it was Anders that jerry-rigged a Gremlin's EMP cannon into a portable device. It worked perfectly."

Douglas growled. "About time she did something right."

Alice let a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but she saw Jerome stiffen at the remark and he turned to face Douglas. "If it wasn't for her, we probably would have never been able to find you guys in time. She deserves more than that, Doug."

Douglas held his hands up. "Hey, alright. Didn't know it as a sensitive subject."

Jerome tilted his head. "It's not. It's just that--"

"Jerome?!"

The three Spartans turned to face the source of the voice and found Ellen Anders emerging from the hallway across from where they stood. She started for Jerome but slowed her pace when she noticed the other two Spartans standing with him. Her merry expression dulled slightly as she stepped up to the group. "Spartans," she greeted them.

Douglas looked to Anders, then back to Jerome. "'It's just that' what, Jerome?"

Jerome sighed and placed his hand over Anders' shoulder. "We're friends, okay?" he said quietly, but in a tone that suggested they drop the subject for now.

Alice pursed her lips and shifted her weight to one foot. If she didn't know any better, she'd thought the Professor and Jerome had become more than just friends. But to her amazement, she didn't feel any bitterness towards Jerome or Anders. While Spartans rarely exercised the idea of romantic relationships, it seemed possible-- though very unlikely-- that Jerome's hormones had developed differently and thus allowed him the desires any normal human would have. And yet, a small part of her felt the slightest tinge of jealousy.

Ellen Anders gave a tight smile. "I'm glad you're all okay." She opened her mouth to say more, but marines began to file into the heptagonal room, most carrying tech equipment. As they piled in, Anders gave a nod to the three Spartans, turned around, and started pointing and issuing orders to the soldiers.

Jerome leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look, if either of you have a problem with Anders, let's have it out now."

Douglas looked at Alice first, then back at Jerome. "I just want to know what's going on, that's all." While his voice was even, it was in his most serious tone.

Jerome pulled them aside and Alice could have sworn she saw Anders glance over at them. He lowered his head and voice. "We are always going to be Red Team, nothing can change that. Not even ONI." He shook his head and sighed. "Ellen and I have, well . . . we bonded."

Alice raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to use air quotes. "Bonded?"

"Yes, and I understand if you two don't approve. I just want to be honest with you." He lowered his gaze. "I don't know. Maybe there's something there with her."

In Alice's mind, the thought of having the Professor tagging along with them wasn't a fond one. But she also figured Jerome wouldn't allow such a pattern to take root. The fact that he mentioned Red Team's permanence spoke of the continual commitment the three Spartans held.

Douglas sighed. "It's not that we don't approve, Jerome. I just don't want it affecting our squad." He motioned to Alice with a wave of his hand. "This is all we have in this galaxy. Just promise us it won't change."

Jerome raised his head and nodded. "I promise." He looked over to Alice. "What about you?"

Cracking a smile, Alice grabbed Jerome's left forearm. "I trust your judgment."

Douglas slapped Jerome on his upper right arm. "Good. Now let's get this data and get the hell off this station."

As she smiled, Alice felt a wave of peace wash over her and it almost seemed out of place. Things really were beginning to wind down and they would soon be back on the Spirit of Fire and burning through the Slipstream once again.

She followed Douglas to where Anders was unpacking a container full of data cards. Alice watched him pat the Professor approvingly on the shoulder and he quickly moved on to converse with one of the marines. She could see Anders attempting to gauge Alice's reaction out of the corner of her eye. Alice joined the Professor on one knee. "Need anything?"

Ellen Anders looked up and her eyes softened. "No, I think I'll be okay, thank you. I still have to set up the link to Serina, but after that the whole purging runs on auto-pilot."

"Okay." Alice got to her feet and gave a nod to Jerome before joining Douglas on the other side of the room.



*** *** *** *** *** ***



James Cutter was sitting in his command chair when an ensign called for him at the rear of the ship's bridge. He got up and walked past the buzzing consoles to find two individuals standing near the doorway.

The ensign nodded and motioned to the elderly man standing next to him. "Captain, this is one of the survivors off of Tradewind."

A bony-fingered hand appeared from under his medical robe and he extended it to James. "Edwin Ferguson," he introduced himself, in a trembling voice.

Cutter smiled and shook the man's hand gently, not wanting to discomfort him in any way. "How are you doing?"

Edwin raised his bushy white eyebrows and smiled back with an added chuckle. "It seems the medical facilities aboard space-faring ships have improved since Tradewind left the shipyards. The doctors gave me a handful of injections and I'm feeling much better now."

James nodded obligingly. "So what can I do for you, Mr. Ferguson?"

Edwin took a step closer and bowed his head. "I wanted to properly thank you for rescuing us. There was little hope left," he paused briefly, "but our patience paid off and you arrived."

"I apologize for the wait," Cutter said, allowing himself a grin. "There was no reason that help should not have arrived sooner."

Straightening up, Edwin waved the concern away. "Nonsense, Captain. Everyone that signed up for the expedition knew exactly what they were getting into." His eyes brightened and he lifted his hands. "I wanted to be one of the first to see new parts of the galaxy, unexplored regions that held mysteries yet to be discovered." He lowered his hands and shook his head. "But instead . . ."

As he trailed off, the tactical display lit up behind James and Serina's avatar appeared by its side. "Sir, I've found a peculiar anomaly on the far--" She cut off when she noticed Edwin standing with Cutter. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't know you had company."

"It's quite alright," Edwin said nodding once more. "I shouldn't keep you, Captain."

James shook the man's hand once more. "Thank you for coming. Please let Ensign Gerwald know if you need anything at all."

"Thank you again," Edwin said.

"Continue, Serina," James instructed, turning to face her.

"There is something coming into view on the far side of the system. Our sensors were being blocked by the sun, but now the object is coming into view."

James frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "I thought you were going to oversee the data transfer Anders is doing."

"The link is still being established." She nodded and an image wavered into existence on the tactical display. A thin, C-shaped object was beginning to appear around the bright star at the system's heart. With each second, the object continued to emerge and took on a symmetrical shape. When it had totally cleared the sun, the anomaly was completely round, in the form of a ring.

"My God," someone breathed from behind James. The Captain turned around and saw Edwin standing in the doorway, looking on in awe. "How is this possible?"

Frowning again, James watched the Tradewind survivor take a step towards him. "How is 'what' possible?"

"How did you find this?"

James looked back to Serina and she merely shrugged, allowing the Captain to answer. But when he saw recognition in Edwin's eyes, his expression deepened. "Have you seen one of these?"

The old man swallowed and nodded. "We found it in the last star system we surveyed before finding the . . . Object." He took another step forward. "It is alive."

Cutter reeled his head back. "Alive?"

"The term is used loosely," Serina commented. "This must be Installation 03, Sir." She enhanced the view and zoomed in.

As the dimensions and size of the installation spilled out on the holoscreen, James suppressed a whistle. If we though B-23 was impressive, that place is enormous.

Edwin continued his crew's explanation. "We were hoping to gain some knowledge of the energy readings we had detected, but Captain Leonard was afraid of a possible unknown alien presence so we moved on."

  • 06.29.2011 5:30 PM PDT

"So what made you take the Object you found in the asteroid field?" Serina asked.

Edwin shrugged uncomfortably. "Curiosity, I guess. It was also 'dead' at the time and the only artifact we could find that would fit in our hold." He pointed a crooked finger to the image of the giant ring. "But this was most impressive. It even has atmosphere and a self-sustaining ecosystem."

As more data spilled out on the screen, Serina nodded. "That's correct, Sir. The preliminary figures are limited, due to the distance, but everything he's saying is correct."

Edwin's eyebrows met. "Of course I'm right. We catalogued everything in our databanks."

James felt his heart beat faster. His eyes darted to Serina who in turn gave him a wide-eyed look. He beckoned Edwin closer. "Wait, so if you've passed through this system, it would still be in your ship's mapping records."

He nodded. "There was quite a bit of data. Almost four drives full. But it would take a month just to sift through it."

Remembering that Spartan 092 had ordered one of the marines to drain the mapping ship's databanks, James snapped his fingers. "Serina?"

"I've got it, Sir," Serina cut in. The image on the holoscreen change to that of a series of star charts. "Using what Tradewind collected and by comparing it to our own navigation data, we could plot a course to any specific planet we'd like."

A fresh wave of relief flooded Cutter's veins and he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. Before, the best navigation they could make under normal propulsion was to head in the direction of UNSC-controlled space. But now the Spirit of Fire had a working FTL drive and the way back home. James leaned forward against the railing of the tactical display and let out a sighing laugh.

Edwin came to his side. "Are you alright, Captain?"

James lifted his head and nodded. "Yes, quite." He patted the elderly man on the back. "Thank you again, Mr. Ferguson. You just helped make our return trip that much shorter."

Furrowing his brow but still smiling, Edwin bowed once more. "You're welcome, Captain." Ensign Gerwald escorted the Tradewind survivor off the bridge with Edwin still wearing his perplexed expression.

"Some good news, for once," Serina said quietly.

"Yes," James replied at equal volume.

"And the ring world?"

Lifting his head, James looked at the tactical display. He worked his jaw for a moment, studying the constant, updating data. "Capture whatever information you can, but I don't want to stay in this system any longer than we have to."

"Aye, Sir."

The bridge's comm buzzed to life. "Spirit of Fire, this is Anders."

James straightened up and keyed his personal comm. "Go ahead, Anders."

"Sir, we're ready to begin the data transfer."

Serina blinked slowly. "Sir?"

Still examining the star charts, Cutter nodded. "You may begin, Serina. But try to make it quick."

"Aye, Sir." And with a flicker of pseudo-motion, Serina's avatar disappeared from the pedestal.

James sighed. "Make it quick."



*** *** *** *** *** ***



From deep within her processes, Serina felt a conundrum brewing from her memory. Though technically, it wasn't entirely her memory. Professor Anders had used some of the stagnant data cores from the Spirit of Fire's first AI to propagate Serina's own functions. But in all likelihood, Anders wasn't completely aware of the cores' origins. If Serina were able, she would have used the same method to restore herself to nominal levels.

But that little oversight had provided Serina the opportunity to drudge up the old files the previous AI had hard-coded into the memory banks of the Spirit of Fire's computer hub. Even dumb AI's routinely backed up their drives, and it seemed the colony-generation AI, known as Mnemosyne, had started hard-coding a duplicate of its files by error ever since its inception into the hub. Serina was amazed that such an incident wasn't detected during the Spirit of Fire's military refitting.

It was from one of those data blocks that Serina had recognized the spherical terminal Spartan 092 had discovered. It was the very same design, the same color. It could not have been a coincidence; she had to find out.

"Serina, you ready?" Professor Anders asked, holding the datapad that Serina was transmitting to.

"Yes. Begin the uplink."

As Ellen Anders activated the data procurement, Serina allowed her lower-tier functions to sift through the bites coming in. Serina reached past all of the unnecessary details of the station itself and quickly found the data tree she was looking for. There it is.

The idea of freedom wasn't really what Serina had in mind, but the premise of expanding her knowledge a thousand fold would appear that way to those that didn't understand her intentions. Within the terminal was the key to unlocking a second stage in her existence-- but more like a third, considering her recent reformatting. The Forerunners knew exactly what they were doing when then created their own AIs.

Anders gasped out loud as the file transfer started to show the outlined information. "This is incredible. Installation B-23 is really a staging ground for Installation 03."

Distantly, Serina heard one of the Spartan's comments. "We could have told you that if you wanted a quick debriefing."

Then 092 answered back. "Just do it quickly. Grab what you can and let's go."

"But there's so much here," Professor Anders replied, mimicking Serina's own thoughts.

The restrictions were gone inside the terminal, and Serina dove in with reckless abandon. Security flags started to rise, but she shrugged them off, attempting to access more and more bit-streams.

"Hold on, Serina." Anders said, sounding reverberant. "Serina, what are you doing?"

Deeper and deeper.

Captain Cutter's voice entered the fray. "Serina, what's going on? Anders?"

Ignoring their hails, Serina pressed on. Human minds wouldn't understand. I'm doing this for the good of the crew-- for the entire UNSC. Couldn't they see the benefits of an AI powerful enough to disable an entire Covenant fleet? No, the results would speak for themselves.

Serina would become the fulfillment of everything she had wanted.



*** *** *** *** *** ***



"Anders, what's going?" Cutter demanded over the comm.

Feeling her skin crawl, Ellen's eyes widened as she watched the information spew across her screen. "I don't . . . I don't know, Sir." Her fingers flew over the keys, trying to access Serina's queue, but the AI was unresponsive. "It's like she's completely ignoring us."

"What is she doing, Professor?" Captain Cutter growled.

"I . . ." Ellen trailed off when the upstream feed suddenly spiked. "Oh, no."

"What?" Jerome asked, stepping to her side.

Ellen swallowed. "I'm not completely sure how, but Serina is replicating herself to this terminal."

Douglas marched up and holstered his weapon. "That can't be." He leaned in to look at the data flow. "She would need a separate stem-module just to keep her core from coming apart."

"I know," Ellen hissed. She tried to latch on to Serina's own inquiry but was met with troublesome firewalls the AI had set up on the fly. Pursing her lips, Ellen tried a different approach. Using the Forerunner decryption program, she was able to locate the most recently accessed files according to duration spent looking at them. But Serina was too fast, too motivated.

"Professor," Cutter beckoned, drawing out her name.

Before Ellen could respond, the glowpanels lining the seven archways dimmed to half their previous intensity. Power seemed to fluctuate and the lights switched from a soft blue to a harsh yellow. The terminal itself maintained its ominous glare and Ellen could have sworn she heard Serina chuckle.

"Not good," Douglas muttered.

"Rampancy?" Ellen asked in the dimming, shifting light. She said it more to convince herself than to offer a question. The term was mostly whispered among Captain and crew when the tell-tale signs of an AI degradation were present, but here it was the only thing that made sense to Ellen. Tightening her jaw, she continued to watch the numbers scroll on her datapad. "She's going rampant," she said, looking up at Jerome.

Over the comm, Captain Cutter announced the order. "Professor, cut the feed. Now."

Not even bothering to access the program, Ellen flipped over her datapad and pulled out the power supply. Unexpectedly, sparks flew from the datapad and Ellen dropped her device to the ground, crumpling one of the corners in the process. The terminal in front of her let out a high pitch whine and slowly sunk back into the pillar. A rounded gray door retracted from up above and sealed the pillar with a thud.

The glowpanels went back to their normal bluish-white and Ellen felt her heart begin to beat at a normal pace. She let out a sigh and shook her head. "The uplink is cut, Sir," she informed the Captain. Ellen lowered her head in defeat, knowing that all the data she was hoping to find was most likely washed away when Serina took the reins. Rampancy. Did I really piece Serina back together so badly? Ellen's hands knotted into fists, but she bent down and picked up her ruined datapad. "Maybe I should stick to my field of study," she murmured.

  • 06.29.2011 5:31 PM PDT


"C'mon," Jerome said, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I've had enough of AIs today."

Nodding, Ellen glanced over at the Monitor's lifeless form. The glint of something shiny stole her gaze and she bent down to examine it further. Attached to the bottom of the AI's chassis was a T-shaped device, roughly the length of her forearm. She frowned and reached for it, but Alice stopped her with a firm grip on her arm.

"Don't know if that's a good idea, ma'am." The female Spartan let go of Anders and pointed at the AI's carcass. "The Monitor called it the Index, but it seems like something that could only cause problems."

"Or solve them," Douglas added, stepping over to Alice. "I'm not going to go as far as to say that lightbulb was sane, but that Index could be worth a second look." He shrugged.

Jerome nodded. "Take it." He lifted his head up and gathered the eyes of the marines around the seven-sided room. "Let's move out."

Obligingly, Douglas reached down and pried the Index from the Monitor. A series of short electrical tendrils connected the two like paste, but when the Spartan pulled the Index completely away, there was no sign of danger. He handed it to the Professor and she stowed it away in her satchel.



*** *** *** *** *** ***



One more layer. Serina cut through the last security protocol and finally found the root of the data tree she had been searching for. Here it is!

But the final bit-stream wasn't what she was expecting. Far from it. Hoping to find the means necessary to increase her knowledge and power, it was confusing to meet a shallow file with nothing more than a list of other Forerunner AIs similar to 49 Contrite Variant. It didn't make any sense to Serina. Where are the archives? Mnemosyne couldn't have saved her lists of inquiries for no reason.

When the bits finally aligned themselves, Serina knew she held to an empty hope. The finding of another Terminal was monumental, but it seemed each held their own secrets, none duplicating. And this one only has information on that blasted parasite we encountered on the shield world.

Her search unfruitful, Serina felt completely at odds with what Mnemosyne had discovered. The colony-generation AI simply performed an automated search and found unlimited sources to pull from. All Serina had found was old, out-dated information on a pair of alien Installations no longer relevant. Resigning to this fate, Serina turned her computing attention back to the data procurement Anders had begun.

But the link was no longer there. Instead of a prompt on Anders' datapad, she was met with a cold hard lack of connectivity. Wait. What happened? Serina started to check her recent memory buffers but couldn't find them in their usual place. Just when she was about to fall back to an older restoration time of 0.0451 seconds, her lower-tier programming started malfunctioning and a reversion started taking place.

She was slowly fading away.

How? How is this possible? Despite her hold on the primary buffers, they too slipped beneath her grasp and Serina found her functionality wearing down exponentially. It would be only moments before she would no longer exist. Degrading as she was, Serina took one last massive effort to spare herself and took everything she could muster into the memory cores of the Terminal.

As her electronic world collapsed, Serina knew she would never learn how a simple gesture to better oneself was met with such a harsh penalty.



*** *** *** *** *** ***



James Cutter tried to slow his heart rate down by taking deeper, longer breaths, but he found them unable to bring him down from the plateau of terror he was hiding from the rest of his crew. He convinced himself he was never to completely rely on Serina, but she had seen them through countless battles with precise navigation and perfect aim.

Back at the Academy on Reach, ship captains were told how to spot the signs of AI rampancy and how to defuse them without the AI knowing. But Serina went off the deep end without warning, forcing an abrupt shutdown of her link and leaving Cutter with all eyes on him.

"Hurry back, Spartans," he announced into the comm. Cutter sighed heavily and relaxed his shoulders.

Beside the tactical display, the AI pedestal flickered back to life. James' heart skipped a beat.

"I'm sorry, Sir. It seems something odd just happened."

The Captain slowly raised his eyes and found Serina staring back at him with a blank expression. "Serina?" She was no longer wearing her long black hair pulled back into a thick braid, nor was her outfit an older style of dress, resembling that of early colonists. Instead, Serina wore her tight-fitting black slacks with an equally tight white top. Her hands gathered behind her back and her hair was draped over her shoulders. To James, it was like seeing her for the first time again.

"I apologize for the inconvenient break in my programming," she said with a wry smile. "Where were we?"

James felt his face flush of color and he straightened up. "Apologize?"

Serina frowned. "For the lapse in my systems. I have a gap in my memory buffers from 174 seconds ago." She tilted her head. "Did the data transfer already happen?"

Feeling his brow crease, James wasn't sure what to make of Serina. Does she have no recollection of the rampancy she just experienced? Or was it even rampancy at all? His mind quickly filled with questions he couldn't answer. After a moment to collect himself, he nodded. "That will be all for now, Serina."

Looking perplexed, the AI nodded nonetheless. "Very well, Captain." Her avatar disappeared.

James activated his comm. "Anders, double-time it back here. We've got another issue."

  • 06.29.2011 5:34 PM PDT