RP:Ghosts In the Machine

This roleplay is created and directed by Sona 'Demal.

GHOSTS IN THE MACHINE

"Doubt is a weapon more deadly than any gun or warship."

Joining
If this RP caught your attention and you want to take part in it, leave me a message and I'll consider it based on your skills of writing. I will most likely let you in, if you do not fall under any of these categories: You can either inform me of any of these yourself, or I can find out myself. If it's the former, there's a chance I will still allow you to participate if your issues on this site aren't too serious and are amendable. If it's the latter, then you will most definitely not be permitted. If I invited you myself to take part in the RP, then you've already passed the first test. Needless to say, that can be subject to change should you create any problems for us or anyone else on Halo Fanon.
 * 1) Disregarding canon-friendliness and grammar.
 * 2) Gaining three civility warnings or a temporary block.
 * 3) Vandalizing articles on the wiki.

Logging
Once it's confirmed that you're to contribute to this RP, then please follow the instructions below.

If you're going to create a new character(s), make an article for them and write out a decent-length that has details on each one. You can do this while the RP is ongoing, so you don't have to wait until it's finished before you participate in the RP.

If you want to use your existing characters, ask me for details on the time frame and circumstances of the RP. You can use as many of your characters as you want, but don't list too many or else you'll find it hard to keep track of it all. Note that this RP takes place in the year 2559, and will span over approximately 1 month. Once you're clear on which of your characters you can use, add them to the same list. You don't necessarily have to write about the events in this RP for your existing characters, although if you can put it in a parallel-universe or even the same universe, that's fine too. Just don't forget to use if you're intending to do so. However, do not place your characters into an AAO template box, unless you're actually part of AAO.

You can pick up to five main characters in total. You can use as many minor characters as you want, and you don't have to list them; again, as long as you can keep track of them all, it's up to you. Once you have decided on your characters, do the following:
 * 1) List your name, along with your characters, beneath the "Logged Operators" section.
 * 2) Check the RP for updates. You can add this page to your watchlist by clicking "Follow" in the blue ribbon at the bottom left (unless it already says "Following").

Roleplay
You must obey the following regulations during the RP:
 * 1) Do not post consecutively, or post as the same character more than once in each part of the RP.
 * 2) Proofread your work before you submit it. Using the preview button is a good habit to develop on this site.
 * 3) There are no limits to how violent you can make your part of the RP, however, avoid making your section more description than it is story.
 * 4) If you're intending to use someone else's character in your part of the RP as a major role, please consult the user who signed as that character. Even if it's a minor role, I suggest you talk to them about it so as to avoid putting them out of character.
 * 5) Ask any questions you have on the discussion page. If I don't respond after a long period of time, inform me on my talk page.
 * 6) Minimum length for a post is 250 words, or three paragraphs.
 * 7) Sign the end of your post with ~ or your own custom non-bubble box signature, then lay out a new section for the next user. For example, if you're writing under ===1===, put ===2=== at the bottom of your post.

Also take note of the following:
 * 1) Each part of the RP will consist of 8 to 10 posts. You do not have to make a post in every part, but there is a first-come, first-served policy for the sake of keeping the RP going at a fair speed.
 * 2) To keep things organized, I may ask you questions about your post to ensure that relevance is maintained. You can make your posts however interesting you want, as long as you don't go against or move too far from the story that's established at the beginning of each part.
 * 3) I may change parts of your work for reasons you may or may not know about, but it's only if things are seriously out of place. If I spot a smaller problem, I'll leave you a message and tell you to change it (tell, not ask).


 * LCDR Felix-116, UNSCN
 * CPL Raphael Esquival-Cortez, UNSCMC
 * Isaac Cawthorn, UNSCONI
 * SpecOps Officer Autel 'Vadam, IUSOICO
 * Ultra Sona 'Demal, IUICO


 * Lieutenant William Cairns — Also known as SPARTAN-B101 or as "DIGGER". Cairns is an Australian-Terran Spartan Headhunter who currently serves with the Naval Special Warfare Development Group within the Human Inner Colonies.


 * Lieutenant Leonardo Simmons, UNSCN
 * First Lieutenant Amber Davies, UNSCMC


 * Buchanan Brown - Survived the Fall of New Vegas during the Human-Covenant War. Jack of all trades, and independent mercenary.
 * Vivian Singh - Captain of the Lucky 38, a tramp freighter. She is also Robert House's enforcer, the enigmatic owner of Massive Dynamic.
 * Stanley Mundy - Former member of the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion of the UNSC Marine Corps, now works independently as a mercenary.
 * Dane S. Steward - Captain of the Mojave Express, a tramp freighter, usually docked at New Vegas City. Known for his socially inappropriate behavior.
 * Victor Mason - Engineer, known for his ability to craft just about anything. This includes his invention of a hovering camera ball, which he refers to as an "Eyebot".
 * Stewart Butler - Former UNSC Field Medic, excellent battlefield surgeon. Now works as a Freelance doctor, helping those who are unwilling to seek medical aid or physicians.


 * LCDR Jackson-A104, UNSCA
 * Supreme Commander of the Supercarrier Liberate Advocate Dame 'Cedul
 * CMDR Stryker-B210, UNSCA


 * Sergeant Percival Macintosh, UNSCA


 * Chen-D179,UNSC
 * Ryu-D340, UNSC
 * Sonia-D343, UNSC


 * LTJG Jake-G294--Squad leader for the now-infamous Team Jian, Jake and his single remaining subordinate, Ralph-G299, have been repurposed at their own request into a Headhunter team.
 * WO Ralph-G299--The only surviving member of Team Jian aside from Jake-G293, Ralph underwent specialized Headhunter training alongside his last remaining friend and is now operational and under the command of UNSC Navy Special Warfare Command.
 * Ro'nin--Cast out of his family's keep for a heinous crime, this disgraced Sangheili abandoned whatever old titles he once possessed and took up one he learned from human criminals in the galactic underground. Having lost all respect for Sangheili culture, he fights for any side regardless of creed or doctrine and does not care if a cause is just or noble so long as it pays him for his services.
 * The Four Preserving Swords--A group of four young Sangheili warriors who have devoted themselves to the Fallen cause in the name of overthrowing a government they see as corrupt and preventing humans from becoming influential on Sanghelios. They lead the irregular militia known as the Sons of the Preserving Blade.
 * Iscariot--This Sangheili spy operates under a human code name while working for the expanding criminal organization known as the Syndicate in an attempt to use the fighting on Sanghelios to expand the organization's influence in Sangheili space.


 * 'Field Master Stel 'Vadam'--An experienced warrior and uncle to Autel 'Vadam, Stel 'Vadam is a veteran of the Human-Covenant War and served as Autel's mentor when he was young. Stel has now been reassigned to combat the threat of the Fallen. He is known for his considerable authority and for the scars his endured during the Human-Covenant War - one of the most-well known being his robotic prosthetic left arm.


 * Zealot Jemsal 'Emvadson - Leader of the Lance of Unrelenting Reparation, Jemsal is currently dealing with the threat of the Fallen on Sangheilios while Holy Commander Ameigh Broley continues dealing with external threats.
 * Ultra Quris 'Nephtyr - An experienced special operations warrior and former member of the Lance of Unrelenting Reparation, Quris is a key member in the fight against Sangheili separatist movements that has been reassigned back to Sangheilios to deal with the rising Fallen threat.
 * Master Chief Petty Officer Riker-012 - A SPARTAN-II supersoldier that has been a Leonidan operator for the course of his career, Riker-012 has been deployed specially by ONI to support the current SPARTAN detachment.
 * Sergeant Perseus Jackson - A sergeant of the Marine Corps, Perseus "Percy" Jackson and his ODST Squad are being deployed alongside a small contingent of UNSC forces to aid in the defense of Sangheilios.
 * Chief Petty Officer Ryder-326 - A member of the second generation of JAVELIN, Ryder-326 has been rerouted to Sangheilios for two purposes: to aid in keeping the Fallen at bay, and to ensure that Kedar-198 does not become involved in the conflict.
 * Kedar-198 - A rogue JAVELIN-II operator, Kedar-198 left the UNSC for unknown reasons, and has since aided numerous rebel movements and mercenary outfits, wreaking havoc across UNSC space wherever possible. His actions against the Sangheili post-war have strained relationships, and it is possible that he intends to aggravate the situation on Sangheilios.


 * Dimitri Reznov
 * Norsak 'Zaremee


 * Lieutenant Francis McCourt — McCourt is a special activities field operator of the Office of Naval Intelligence.


 * Marcus Cell-A man of action and not of words, Marcus fought uprisings on Earth during the Human-Covenant War. This, however, is no ordinary rebellion...


 * First Lieutenant Justin-057 UNSC- A SPARTAN-II supersoldier well renowned for his skills and accomplishments during the Human-Covenant War, Justin had spent most of his career going solo, preferring to be alone due to several incidents resulting in the death of several of his beloved comrades. Finding himself on all fronts, Justin had learned to be self-reliant, although he would come to the aide of allied forces whenever needed, risking his very life to ensure their well being. Justin-057 is currently in cryosleep for unknown reasons but will be awakened to support the SPARTAN detachment in their battle against the rising Fallen. *(Character in use by Sona, SPARTAN-118, and Another Poetic Spartan)
 * Ultra Cotoal 'Turlik, IUSO - An experienced warrior that once had the chance to fight alongside one of the hated Demons, Cotoal is a veteran of the Human-Covenant War that formerly commanded the now disbanded Alliance Team, being deemed a maverick for his actions but was eventually hailed as one of several heroes of the war. Although well composed and commanding, Cotoal has a penchant for fighting and when reassigned to combat the rising Fallen threat, he approached with glee and fervor.


 * Master Chief Petty Officer Benjamin-B314, UNSCDF- A SPARTAN-III supersoldier, and one of the only known surviving members of Beta Company, Ben-B314, has, in his own words, been "dragged through hellfire and brimstone more times than I can count". He has narrowly evaded death three times during his career, and yet has still come back to fight for the Human race, being heralded as one of the most underrated heroes of the Human-Covenant War. After the end of the war, Ben split his time between cryosleep, liberating worlds that were controlled by the Covenant Loyalists, and operating for ONI. But now, with the Fallen on the UNSC's doorstep, Ben faces one of his greatest challenges to date, and he gets caught in the throes of a Sangheili conspiracy that goes far deeper than anyone knows.....
 * Adal 'Myram, High General of Sangheilios - The former High General of the entire Covenant, as well as a longtime friend and cohort of Arbiter Thel 'Vadam, and one of the last living members of the House of Myram, Adal is a vaunted veteran of the Human-Covenant War. After fighting alongside his Sangheili bretheran as a member of the Covenant Separatists, Adal was appointed the High General of Sangheilios as well as one of the Sangheili's ambassadors to the UNSC, but has mostly stayed away from combat since the end of the war. However, with the rise of the Fallen, all that is about to change.......

Introduction
The Fallen is widely regarded as enemies and a tension is present on Sanghelios. They threaten war upon their own species, their own blood, their own brothers. There is no choice; the aid of the humans must be found. But whether their intentions are honourable or not is yet to be seen, and the thinly built trust that they made may sever, and bring the two species back on opposite ends of the fight.

Prologue
Sangheili Minor Taszar 'Vadam moved quickly, evading the energy bolts that flew past him. He retaliated by firing his Plasma Rifle at his opponent, taking a few shots on his shields. He closed in, punching the enemy had on the shoulder, breaking the bone. As the other Sangheili dropped his weapon and moved to retaliate with his working arm, the minor domo lashed out swiftly with his leg, causing his opponent to lose his balance. The separatist managed to remain standing, but looked up just in time to see the young Sangheili cracking his weapon over his head. The assailant fell back and crumpled.

Taszar made sure the enemy was dead, and paused for a moment to think. How much longer would this war drag on? For six years, this conflict had been spreading throughout Sanghelios and other nearby systems. Many Sangheili had objected openly to their truce with the humans after the defeat of the Covenant Loyalists and their treacherous leaders the San'Shyuum, and created a rebel group called "The Fallen". Their belief had been that they had fallen from honour by taking the side of the humans, and although they were no believers of the delusive Great Journey, circumstances turned what should have been a triumphant return from the war to a bitter disagreement. After months of tense political dispute and suspicious activities from the Fallen, war erupted on Sanghelios. The protesters were unusually well-organized, and friends turned unexpectedly on each other. The conflicts were long and bloody, and although the original Fallen leader, Atsu 'Hidal had been killed three years ago, it was rumoured there was another one operating in secrecy. And now, although he hated the war greatly from the day he joined the battles, the fighting itself did not bother Taszar unduly. Killing another Sangheili was the same as any other foe, if there was a good reason.

Taszar swore as he saw more Fallen charging him. Where were those reinforcements that were supposed to be here? He couldn't take them all on his own. Unfortunately, the Sangheili were spread thin trying to hold down the separatist forces, and soldiers were being sent to and fro to wherever was needed most. Anyone put in a squad were most likely to be in a heavy skirmish, and would be lucky to have a leader rallying them. It looked like was alone for the time being, and there was nothing for it but to take them all out.

Opening fire, the young Sangheili cut down one of the separatists with a sustained burst, grimacing as he noticed his own shields were depleted. There was no time to take cover. Drawing a plasma pistol, he melted the head of a second with an overcharged shot. Raising his rifle again, he fired rapidly on the last enemy, but didn't manage to take him down before the gun overheated too and vented blue steam.

Taszar dropped his weapons, preparing to deal with the separatist with his own hands. The assailant's mandibles parted in a nasty smile as he aimed at the young Sangheili, but didn't move more than two steps before he screamed and jerked upward. Two energy blades appeared in his chest. The Fallen fell (Taszar smiled grimly at the irony), and another Sangheili appeared out of the air. It was his friend, Zehr'tul 'Sumai.

"There are more enemies coming," the stealth soldier said, handing him his rifle back. "I managed to slow them down, but they seem to have something of importance in these facilities, because they keep sending soldiers to take this area back."

"Do you have a plan?" Taszar asked.

"Our reinforcements are almost here. They are coming by foot. Something shot their dropship down."

The Fallen were becoming increasingly resourceful, and their threat was heavier than ever. This war had to end soon.

"We should go," Zehr'tul said, turning around. "Tico 'Serul says he will hold the Fallen away from this area until he finds what they are trying to keep us away from. The Arbiter has a suspicion as to what it is. We are being ordered to destroy the hidden anti-aircraft cannons so that our Phantoms can make their way through here."

Tico 'Serul was one of the most renowned Special Operations Officers in the military. The fact that the Arbiter wanted a massive force placed here, a fairly large commando squad no less, meant that there was a good chance something of importance was around here.

"You should see how many units are being pulled over here," Zehr'tul said, reading his mind. "The battle here should be over soon."

Over? Taszar thought, following him down the street. Were it so easy.

Autel 'Vadam entered the Keep, carefully cradling a series of bundles in his arms. Usually the symbols and images engraved into the wall would interest him whenever he moved up or down the stairs, but today his mind was elsewhere. It had been for a while now. Upon reaching the fourth level, he easily found her room, and opened the door.

"Autel?" a voice called. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Cyla," he replied, entering. "I have returned." He handed the bundles over to her, and wiped the perspiration off his face.

Cyla sat up in bed, leaning against the wall. "Was there any trouble?" she asked, unwrapping the bundles, and looking at them.

"No. No one ventures here, and there is not much they would want from us." His calm demeanour tensed as he heard the sound of the main door opening and closing. Drawing a plasma pistol, he said, "Remain here."

The Vadam Keep was emptier than usual, because a lot of the soldiers were fighting the separatists, and the younglings and elderly were kept out of danger. He had long disapproved of the decision, although it had been ordered for everyone on Sanghelios. He himself felt there was little honour in abandoning one's Keep, which was not only a home but a representation of who any Sangheili was. But it was pointed out that the Fallen, despite their claims, did not always abide by their honour, and it wouldn't be put past them to slaughter those unable to defend themselves.

It could be a Vadam returning from the State, the albino Sangheili thought. But these days, it never hurt to be careful.

Autel silently padded down the stairs, pistol ready, but relaxed when he saw who it was. An exhausted-looking Sangheili was making his way towards the stairs. He wore a grey-coloured armour, with ancient symbols and patterns etched upon it. It was the Arbiter, Thel 'Vadam.

"How was your day, father?" Autel asked.

"Not good," Thel replied wearily. "The Fallen are causing more trouble, and I am not sure we can keep them down much longer." Thel had taken a political position on Sanghelios, and was trying to negotiate terms with the separatists.

"What about their leader?" Autel said, as they made their way up the stairs.

"We still do not know who it is. He refuses to meet directly."

"We are certain there is a leader, then?"

"Yes, but we cannot sense his intentions. He makes his moves very carefully." Thel looked slightly frustrated. "What have you discovered?"

"We have found more traitors among the families," Autel said. "Nadi 'Andal has also been recently acquitted following suspicions of assisting the Fallen. He claims he was set up by the Vadum family."

Thel frowned. The young Sangheili knew he was thinking about Fleet Master Rtas 'Vadum, whose honour would never lead him to betray them to the Fallen. But perhaps his family was not necessarily the same way. However, the Arbiter's expression faded into a slight smile when they reached Cyla's room.

"Greetings, Arbiter," she said, gently laying the bundles on the bed. "Please, come in."

The two Sangheili entered, and as Autel sat down beside his father, Thel said, "Congratulations. How many?"

"Three," Cyla said, looking down fondly at the sleeping newborns. "Two males, one female."

"I had just returned from the mountaintop," Autel said. "I was about to take them to the temple for the final blessing."

Thel examined each of the baby Sangheili. "Their appearances seem to be normal," he observed. The newborns were slumbering peacefully, looking completely untroubled. The female shifted as she awoke, yawned, and opened her eyes. The Arbiter inhaled sharply. Her irises were the same colour as Autel's. White, with a hint of red in them. Naturally piercing.

"That will not be a problem," Autel said. "No one in the Keep will know." After newborns were blessed, the males were kept in the Keep, while the females were sent into the State, along with the mother.

The doctor entered the room, holding a container. "Cyla, I must administer to you one last dose of the strengthening solution." Thel stood up, placed his fingers to his chest in the "best of luck" gesture, and left the room.

Autel stood up too. "I will return soon," he said. Cyla nodded, and said, "I will prepare to leave." Sangheili females lost a lot of blood upon giving birth, and she had spent the last few units trying to recover it. They quickly embraced, and he picked up the newborns gently and left the room.

Autel walked down the steps of the keep carrying the three tiny bundles. He was a father. The thought had been in his mind all morning, but it still filled him with a great joy. He knew that the males would never know that he was their ancestor when they became older, but he would be able to watch over them and ensure they became great warriors.

Thel had looked worried when he saw the female's eyes. He himself had been thinking about it more than once. It was one of the many signs that would mark her as different as she become older, no doubt. But perhaps it was also an indication of something special about her. He had seen Cyla's far-away look when she gazed on her daughter. He could never tell what she was thinking when she looked like that.

Autel's hooves clicked on the stone as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He spun as he heard a rustling, saw a flash of armour and ducked. Without giving time to pause, he left the newborns on the ground as he rose again, activating his Energy Sword. It was strange that there were intruders inside the Keep at this time, but long-time experience had taught him to remain alive during the moment of crisis and find the answers later.

Air whistled behind him, and he spun and blocked the energy staff. With a twist of his wrist he destroyed the weapon. Another twist, and his attacker's head flew off.

More of the Fallen rushed out of the other rooms, each of them carrying armfuls of bundles. With a horrible realization of what they were doing, he looked down, and saw that the bundles no longer lay at his feet. In the doorway, a Sangheili was holding them. His children.

The separatists were running out of the keep, and Autel gave chase. He cut down as many of them as he could, but kept his eyes on the one trailing behind. Leaping through the air, he drove his energy blades deep into his back.

The rest of the enemies were gone. Pulling his weapon out of the dead Sangheili, he looked down and realized that there were not three bundles, but two. Looking them over, he realized that they were not his children. Slowly and carefully, he headed back towards the Keep, picking up all the newborns he could find. Fortunately, none of them were hurt, but he felt hollow inside. His own offspring were gone. Taken.

Cyla jerked up as she heard a mighty roar, and the sound of an Energy Sword activating. She knew something was wrong.

The doctor looked up. "Is there a problem, Excellency?"

Cyla twisted to look out the window, where many Sangheili were running down the path, with Autel running after them, cutting them down. "What has happened?"

She watched Autel disappear down the path for a moment, and headed back inside holding something. There was the sound of urgent conversation downstairs, and after several minutes, he entered the room, holding a deactivated Energy Sword. His normally pale eyes were a deep shade of crimson, and his mandibles were bared in anger.

His hands trembling, he placed the weapon back on his side. Breathing erratically, he looked at Cyla slowly and said softly, "They have taken them." His expression held great pain.

The doctor awkwardly left the room, and a moment later, Cyla felt tears running down her face. She cried out in despair and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling Autel's arms around her. She could almost feel his sadness. Cyla tried to stop her weeping, but could not, and wished that her hearts would stop beating.

Part One
Lieutenant Commander Felix Martel paced the floor back and forth, thinking. He was dimly aware that the Independent Crusader entered Slipspace, but he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't quick enough.

"Are you certain that the transmission reached Zeta-9?" he asked. Cortana's hologram flickered on at a nearby pedestal. She still seemed different after she had been modified by the Forerunner technicians. She had opted to remain without a physical form, but had a tinge of silver to her purple-blue image. But she didn't seem as obstructed by memory space anymore, which could only be an improvement.

"No, I'm not certain," Cortana replied. "Once a COM probe is sent through Slipspace it is impossible to track down. Even with our developing technology it'll still be decades before we figure out how. But I'm ninety-three point six four percent certain the transition was successful, and a ninety-one point two seven percent chance of exit without anomaly."

One thing never changed about her though. She was still as smart-mouthed as ever.

"Thank you," the Spartan officer said dryly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John's helmet twitch slightly, behind which he was sure held a knowing smile. No doubt the Chief had received many of Cortana's cynical comments before. The senior Spartan decided to sit down instead.

Assembled around the room were the other Spartans. Blue and Grey Team of the SPARTAN-IIs, and Beta Company and Team Sabre of the SPARTAN-IIIs. If Ezekiel received the transmission, he would have gathered Team Katana to meet them at Zeta-9.

Felix thought back to the message. It seemed odd that the proud, honourable Sangheili would do something like wage wars upon themselves. He knew what caused it, and felt a slight twinge of guilt for the Sangheili. They still remained allies to the UNSC, even after the separatists threatened war.

"How long until we arrive?" he asked.

"You're rather jumpy," Cortana said, but decided to give an answer. "Including our first exit to pick up the others, we will reenter normal space at Sanghelios in fifteen hours."

The Spartan's hands tightened. Fifteen hours was such a long time. And he owed a favour to the species that had pulled him out of dead space and saved Earth, twice.

"Relax," the AI advised. "With our old engines it would have taken us days."

The Lieutenant Commander sighed. She was right. They were headed for Sanghelios at maximum speed, and there was nothing he could really do about it to get there faster. He had to accept that and put it out of his mind, like any other Spartan.

It was difficult, because he wasn't a Spartan. Not really. He hadn't been trained like everyone else, and only the Forerunner chemicals injected into his body kept him alive through the past three years. Still, he decided to distract himself by examining the upgraded weapons. Despite the newly claimed Forerunner weapons and intelligence, the UNSC had not wanted to overkill their tech with ultra-powerful weapons, as such objects could cause problems if there was ever trouble for humanity again (if the Insurrection were reformed, to say, or perhaps a greater threat). And seeing what had happened on Sanghelios, Felix didn't really blame them.

The senior Spartan surveyed the team. He had found and gathered the survivors of the supersoldiers in 2556, and they had been through a lot since then. The UNSC must have understood the urgency of the situation, because sending every Spartan they had was a bit much for most ops. Then again, it wasn't like they had anything to do at Earth anyway.

Blue Team were the most well-known SPARTAN-IIs alive. Lieutenant Frederic-104 was the leading officer, although he cared a bit too much about his subordinates. Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy John-117 was probably the most known of his team, after his accomplishments on Installations 04, 05, and the Ark (although Cortana often liked to call it "luck"). Although Fred outranked him, he held that air of leadership about him. Petty Officers Kelly-087 and Linda-058 were almost complete opposites. Kelly liked cracking jokes, preferred close range combat and worked well with anything that fired full automatic. Linda was often quiet, had a serious, almost cold personality, and posted as a sharpshooter unless ordered otherwise. However, to say that Linda was just a sniper was like saying a Warthog was just a car, or the UNSC was just a group of soldiers.

Grey Team were trained under the same class as Blue Team, but were more discreet. Petty Officers Jai-006 and Adriana-111 were a bit more on the loose side than most Spartans, and their pilot Mike perhaps a bit too much so. They had not seen as much action as most SPARTAN-IIs over the course of their career, but that was not to say they were incompetent. The Lieutenant Commander had found out just how much he could trust them in 2556.

Tom-B292 and Lucy-B091 were the senior SPARTAN-IIIs. Although their combat strategies were similar to one another, Felix had never heard Lucy say a word. He knew that she wasn't merely quiet. Not even Linda kept such a long stretch of silence in the three years he knew her. Something was obviously wrong with her ability to speak, but he didn't want to ask if she wasn't willing to tell. Then again, she never told anyone anything.

Ash, Olivia, and Mark were the Gamma Company SPARTAN-IIIs, under Team Sabre. They were a bit rough around the edges, but worked well as a team, and had proven their worth in combat. Team Katana was no different.

Ezekiel-254 was a Class II SPARTAN-II. He was given the rank of Lieutenant a few years ago, to train what was rumoured to be a fifth company of SPARTAN-IIIs, Delta Company. The Lieutenant Commander knew that Delta Company had never been trained, but there were a few hundred SPARTAN-IIIs from Gamma Company Missing in Action. No one could find them yet, but with the UNSC's new technology, it would not be long. He had also recently been regrouped with his teammate, Lieutenant Hannah-201.

Add them to the other Spartans being pulled out of low-level ops, and we've got pretty impressive numbers. It was good considering the fact that they were thought to be wiped out in 2553. It wasn't often that so many of them were placed on a single op, but right now, the Insurrection and other rebel forces posed a minimum threat, so the UNSC was glad to put the Spartans somewhere where they weren't just sitting on their asses. Now that they were all being pulled back into action, they could do a heck lot of damage on any enemy, and Felix was glad they were here. And pretty soon, so would the Sangheili.

1
Autel kept pace with the Fallen without difficulty, making not even the slightest noise from his hooves. He kept his eyes on the separatist, and knew that Fira was behind him. If he looked away for a moment, they could lose the enemy. It had taken them long enough to find him in the first place.

He knew that the Fallen would most likely notice the active camouflage he and Fira were using as well should he turn around, as all Sangheili were trained to enhance their already sharp vision. But for the moment, it kept them a bit less conspicuous.

Autel could make out the vague outline of a sack hefted over the Sangheili's back, and felt repulsed. Never had the Fallen resorted to such immoral methods of war. When they were formed during the first Age of Amendment, their leader Atsu 'Hidal was ruthless, but kept his faction within the bounds of honour and never declared war on the Sangheili. The new leader, whoever it was, didn't have a problem with going to any lengths to achieve his goals. The sight of seeing the younglings being kidnapped to provoke the families tempted him to free the newborns he was sure was inside. But if they waited, it was more likely they would find all of them.

After many subunits, the Fallen arrived at an aircraft factory, and slipped inside. Autel blinked. Hidden in plain sight. It wasn't even abandoned. Just how much control over Sanghelios did the separatists possess?

Autel hefted a Plasma Repeater. Fira took his Needle Rifle off his back. They entered before the doors closed, and—

Thick, white powder sprayed them. Alarms rang through the factory. Autel swore as he realized that they didn't even take the time to check for security. They must have tripped a scanner.

He hadn't been thinking straight since his newborns were kidnapped. Without telling anyone, he found Fira, who agreed to help him. Apparently several newborns from his family were stolen as well, although the latter currently had no offspring of his own.

After many units of searching, they had spotted a blur moving quickly down the street. Sometimes stealth made you an obvious target. After following it for all day through various states, the separatist never realized he was being followed. And after the painstaking trail, their chance at stealth was just squandered by the single mistake.

Fallen rushed in, firing at them. The powder had coated them completely, rendering the camouflage useless. Autel tried to take down as many as he could, but knew they would not last long. There was also no way around them. He and Fira started to back up, but more Fallen blocked the exits. They were trapped.

Autel clenched his fists around his weapon. Everything had gone wrong. Now there was nothing for it but to fight to the death. He primed a plasma grenade and was about to throw it when an explosion tore the main door open. Dozens of Sangheili rushed in, firing at once. In a single heartbeat, the tables were turned, and soon the Fallen in the room were eliminated.

Autel wiped some of the powder off his face, and gaped in surprise. "How did they know we were here?"

Fira smiled. "I tend to think ahead, my friend. And I found many willing to help me."

Autel saw his step-brother approach them and hand them cleaning units. "You look even paler than usual," he teased. Autel returned the smile, grateful that they had been there.

Fira was conversing with a silver-armoured Sangheili. Autel knew that the Ultra was Fira's older cousin.

"This is where they have taken them?" he asked.

"I think so, Sona," Fira replied, activating the cleaning unit and watching it restore his armour back to its original crimson, "although there may also be other locations they hide in."

"Then we shall find the scum responsible for this and wring out their innards until they reveal the truth to us," the Ultra growled.

Autel was surprised. He knew that Sona 'Demal was a formidable warrior, but was also known for his lack of unnecessary aggression. He had never heard him speak with such venom in his voice. Then again, the Fallen had committed a great sin, and in addition abducted twenty-one newborns from the Demal line.

Autel checked that his armour was free of powder, and re-entered invisibility. Fira did the same. "We shall investigate," he said. "If you remain here, the Fallen may think they held you up." A moment later, another door opened, and more Fallen entered.

"Fire!" Sona ordered, and the Sangheili engaged the separatists. Autel and Fira moved through several empty rooms, and found a gravity lift in a parallel hallway, heading for the top floor. They stepped into it, and caught glimpses of the rooms they passed containing what looked like weapons and supplies clustered around magnetic containers and gravity belts. Autel heard a pipe explode below him as plasma melted a tube on the first level. He got a glimpse of fuel spilling all over the floor before they reached the top and were thrown out of the lift.

They were in a docking bay, where ships were launched after construction. The testing passages were removed, and a stealth corvette parked below the exit. Groups of Fallen were taking opaque sacks and loading them onto the corvette.

One of the sacks moved, and a separatist held up a can of tranquilizer. Facing away from the opening, he sprayed into the sack. The movements stopped.

Another Sangheili stood at the base of the corvette's gravity lift. He was obviously in command. "Hurry," he snapped. "It will not be long before they find us." He turned to one of the Fallen. "Have the reinforcements been sent?"

"Yes, Excellency," he replied.

"Then deactivate the gravity lifts," he said. The Fallen complied, and the lift dimmed and shut down.

There was something familiar about his voice. Autel realized who it was.

"Isto 'Vadum," he whispered. Isto was infamous for his brutality, and had a well-known rivalry with Fleet Master Rtas 'Vadum. Although he was widely suspected to be a part of the Fallen, nothing had ever been proven. Until now. It was possible he could even be the leader of the Fallen.

"What is our plan?" Fira asked. "Sona and his squad cannot reach us."

"We should enter the ship," Autel said. "Perhaps we can disable it. Then we will reactivate the gravity lifts and convince Isto to surrender."

"I do not think he will surrender," Fira remarked, but they moved for the ship. They would have to slip past Isto, but there was no other option.

A Fallen carried three sacks and approached the gravity lift. "These are the last ones," he said, "and the storage facilities are full."

"We shall carry them ourselves then," Isto said. He grabbed one of the sacks and moved for the gravity lift.

There was a thud as the sack swung around and hit Fira in the shoulder. Isto's eyes flashed. He dropped the sack, pulled a concussion rifle out, and fired.

Autel moved to help him, but his friend made a subtle gesture as he retaliated. It was their signal for "don't wait for me". He was obviously willing to give up his life for the newborns. Without allowing himself to hesitate, the former moved around them. He had to disable the ship. With any luck, the separatist would assume Fira was alone.

Autel ran for the lift, but the other Fallen fired at Fira. The bolts connected with Autel's armour, and his camouflage vanished.

Fira was returning fire, but Isto moved very quickly. He lashed out, catching Autel across the gullet with his rifle. He fell back, and plasma fire ripped around him. He accidentally let go of his gun, and saw it fall down the deactivated gravity lift.

"Get aboard the ship!" Isto shouted. "I shall deal with them." Fira's needle rifle clicked empty, and he grabbed the Fallen in a chokehold. Isto flipped him over his back and sent him sprawling to the ground. He activated an Energy Sword, and was about to finish him, when Autel ran forward and slide-tackled him. He grabbed for the Energy Sword, and Fira found Isto's rifle.

The Fallen leader stood up, backing towards the corvette's gravity lift. Autel lunged at him, but Isto ducked, knocking him on his front with a kick. Fira aimed the rifle at him.

Isto saw the sack he dropped lying a few feet away. He couldn't get to it now. Smiling maliciously, he activated a plasma grenade, and threw it at the sack.

Without hesitation, Fira stepped in front of the grenade. The explosive adhered to his chest, and he moved fast, away from the sack so the explosion would not harm the newborns. There was no fear in his eyes.

Autel turned away as he saw the blue-white explosion consume his friend, and saw Isto running for the gravity lift. With a roar of fury, he threw the Energy Sword at Isto. One of the blades stuck into the Fallen's side, and he flinched, but disappeared up the gravity lift. The corvette lifted up and flew out of the hangar, flying up and out of the atmosphere.

Autel ran to Fira, who was lying in a pool of his own blood. He looked around, feeling completely helpless, not knowing what to do. Then he stood up, and ran for the main controls. Autel reactivated the gravity lift, and Sangheili soldiers began rushing up. Sona approached him, and knelt beside his cousin. His eyes looked over the numerous open wounds upon Fira's body, and the remains of his armour stained purple. He was silent.

Taszar opened the sack, checking over the newborns inside. There were a dozen unconscious newborns, and he checked to make sure they were alright.

Autel turned back to Sona, who still did not speak. Finally, he said grimly, "He will live."

I cannot say the same for that traitor, he thought. He watched as Sona gingerly lifted Fira, and headed back down the lift. He followed the squad out of the factory.

2
Jackson fired his magnum at the terrorist as he fired back. The bullet penetrated Jackson’s armour and caused him to stumble over a rock. Another SPARTAN fired back, the terrorist fell with clean shots through his body. The SPARTAN held their hand to Jackson. Hesitant, Jackson depolarized his visor and grabbed the SPARTAN’s hand.

“Haha. Whats up, Rochelle? There’s nothing you cannot do.” Jackson said.

“Well. I definitely cannot destroy a Covenant Supercarrier.” The two laughed and walked away from a huge pile of dead humans.

The SPARTANs approached a UNSC Fox artillery surrounded by UNSC troopers. They were walking everywhere and pointing their weapons at nearby rooftops. The IIIs entered the artillery and stood behind a seat.

“Sir!” The SPARTANs saluted.

The seat turned around. A man stood up in front of Jackson and Rochelle. This green Mark V armour was rusted and almost covered in bullet holes. On the side of their helmet held the tag Stryker-B120. Jackson lowered his head to Stryker’s helmet.

“Nice to see you back so soon, Jackson. Rochelle. Alright back to work. The Pakistani nuclear missile base in underground. Literally. The Navy had attempted a strike from a Orbital platform to do the work. Unfortunately, Pakistan have a tight lid on what they’re cooking.”

“Why don’t you glass it?” Rochelle said.

“You took the words out of my mouth. Remember that supercarrier that kept stalking us during the Fall of Reach?”

“The Liberate Advocate?” Jackson answered.

“Yeah. That thing is coming into action. Our job: We have to destroy all those Onager cannons positioned around the border of nearly the entire facility. They’re illegal and deadly; that's why we have a fox cannon.”

Jackson leaned forward towards Stryker “Did you just say Onagers?”

Stryker turned back to him “Yes. They would tear up a normal Fox of course but they’re almost useless against shields. We’ll have Engineer support inside, they’ll provide a stronger shield system. As for you two and Santos. You’re going in for some air support in some Magpie fighters. Good luck, SPARTANs.”

Stryker turned and returned to tapping controls in the Fox. Jackson and Rochelle walked out to an almost destroyed building west of the Fox. They jumped the building and slowly approached a SPARTAN lying down on the rooftop with another trooper.

“Three man squad. Six klicks from our position. Four man three clicks behind.” The trooper said. Jackson and Rochelle stopped and observed. “I bet I can take them all out.” Santos remarked. The trooper turned his head to her. “Oh really?” “Yeah.” “In exchange for what?” the trooper said.

“A punch in the face.” The trooper looked at her in disbelief.

“A punch in the face? Really?”

“Punching a SPARTAN in the face is a pretty big deal, leatherneck.” She replied.

“Right. On my mark.” Jackson stood like a statue and kept watching. “Three. Two. One. Mark!”

The snipers fired simultaneously. Santos’ bullet went straight through two of the group’s head while the trooper killed one.

“Aw come on!” The trooper complained.

“You’re hogging all the fun!”

Santos giggled and kept her eye through her scope. The final four man squad arrived to the scene and checked the dead group’s pulse. Santos tightened her grip and didn’t breathe. She was so focused and was determined to give the trooper a back hander.

“Mark.” She whispered.

Again the snipers traded sounds. Santos killed three of the men already as the trooper kept missing. Jackson side stepped and kicked Santos’ rifle. The trooper got the shot. Santos’ fists slammed the ground.

“Shit!”

The trooper giggled and raised his hand, ready to punch Santos’ on the shoulder. Unexpectedly, the sniping SPARTAN swiped the trooper to the wall. Santos stood up and began shoving Jackson to a wall. Rochelle giggled as Santos held Jackson up on the rest of the remaining wall . “This ain’t a game, Jackson!” she yelled.

Jackson, in shock, pushed her away. However, Santos’ foot slammed Jackson, knocking him into the wall.

“Me, You and Jackson are going sky-high while Stryker is destroying Onager cannons.” Rochelle said.

“Onagers?”

“That's exactly what I said when I heard.” Jackson said, still holding his stomach in agony.

“Don’t worry, we’re using Magpies. We have to wait for a Covenant supercarrier. Come.” Rochelle gestured her hand to Santos’. The two female SPARTANs left Jackson and the trooper on the rooftop, still overwhelmed by the pain Santos caused.

“Don’t worry. You get used to it.” The trooper said to Jackson as he still clutched his arm against the wall.

3
{{Time stamp|Four and a half hours ago Lieutenant Leonardo "Leo" Simmons (UNSC Navy) peered down the iron sights of his SM6C service handgun, adjusting the weapons positioning until the sights were trained at the center mass of his target, before pulling the weapons' trigger three times in rapid succession, readjusting his aim quickly and efficiently between every shot. The slide locked back, the twelve round magazine depleted of 12.7mm x 40mm ammunition; the other nine expended previously to the last set of three. The Lieutenant was currently inside the range, just outside the armory; shooting at a paper target a good twenty meters away. The officer ejected the depleted magazine, slammed a full magazine into the receiver, and released the slide with a clack. He engaged the safety on the side of the weapon, manually checked it, and slid the weapon back on his holster.

As a investigator within the Office of Investigations (OI), he was authorized to carry a sidearm, as well as possessing the right to arrest uniformed personnel and civilians alike for violating UNSC laws and statures. Not that he'd arrested anyone recently, being stationed aboard the UNSC Heroes All - an Injunction-class Cruiser stationed in the Home Fleet. A crappy assignment in his new line of work.

In fact, ever since he'd testified against a certain ONI officer following the Battle of Sydney, every assignment he'd had received had been a shitty posting. ONI had to be harboring a grudge, for the officer in question escaped indictment - and because Simmons had received a Naval battlefield commission from the very same person, and expelled from Naval Intelligence, back into Special Operations Command. Leo had been an ODST Gunnery Sergeant before his commission - but following the end of the Human-Covenant War, Orbit Drop Shock Troopers were somewhat useless, being garrisoned planet side. Thus resulted in Leo lodging a request for transfer into the Office of Investigations - more commonly referred to as "oh-eye" - to become an investigator. However, he really did not investigate much up to this point in his career, besides minor crimes on ship and a couple of homicides.

He exited the range, sealing the hatch behind him, and made his way through the titanium corridors of the Heroes All, returning to the OI Office, amidships.

Yet another boring day, he thought in dismay, before he took a seat behind his desk, and checked his AS2549 Portable Computer for new messages. He was often surprised to find he had received any mail at all from anyone (given the amount of ONI "censoring" on his mail), so the Lieutenant was more than a little surprised (with a little dread tossed in) to see a immediate transfer order to ONI Section 1 for a "special assignment". Also attached were immediate orders authorizing a shuttle to ferry him to an awaiting Frigate.

This cannot be good, he thought sullenly.

{{S-118}}

4
Ralph-G299 grunted as he hauled himself off the bunk in the NAVSPECWAR barracks room, his stiff body protesting over his sudden departure from the nap he'd just awoken from. He felt a tiny gleam of satisfaction as he stretched and felt the bones in his genetically augmented limbs snap into their proper places under his skin. The satisfaction was accompanied by a greater sense of relief as he reached out and activated the chiming communicator that had drawn him out of his slumber; it had rescued him from a particularly unpleasant dream.

He flicked the communicator on while cricking his neck. There was no need for any sort of formalities here; only one person ever called him on this.

"Yup," he said into the communicator's speaker, stifling a yawn as he did so. "What's goin' on, Jake?"

The voice of Jake-G293, his immediate superior and sole remaining squad mate crackled back at him over the speaker. As usual, it managed to be as clipped and devoid of emotion as humanly possible. "Ralph. You up?"

"If I weren't, I wouldn't be talkin' to ya," Ralph drawled sleepily. "What's the deal?"

Jake's response immediately snapped him out of his funk. "We've got marching orders again. Looks big this time. Get your gear sorted and report to the briefing room by 0730."

"Roger that." Ralph considered adding some extra quip in his reply just to see if he could rile up Jake, but he decided against it. Nothing ever got Jake wound up, be it whatever enemy they were ordered to kill or Ralph's own consistent insubordination. He just didn't get angry anymore, or at least not like he'd used to back when it wasn't just the two of them left in Team Jian. Before Terrence and Mary. Before Cassandra. Before Simon.

Shutting off the communicator, Ralph checked the timepiece strapped to his bare arm. 0630. He had an hour before he needed to report to briefing. Plenty of time to get a little self-indulgence in, so long as he wasn't interrupted. The news that he and Jake would be back in the field, back where they belonged, had filled his body with a faint tingle of excitement, but the pleasant feeling was already dying away and being replaced by the tense, quivering sensation that always haunted him when he was away from the action. And with the lull of sleep still lingering in the back of his mind, he needed to do something to ease his nerves.

Fortunately, he knew just what to do.

Sitting back down on the bed, he scratched his exposed armpits with a deliberate intensity. All he ever really wore in the barracks was a stained and faded undershirt and a pair of equally frayed briefs. Most of his fellow SPARTAN-IIIs, male and female alike, called him piggish, but Jake never said a word about it. He, like Ralph himself, just didn't give a shit, which was the way Ralph liked it.

He cricked his neck again and popped his knuckles, momentarily alleviating the tension that coursed through his body. He needed to run, damn it, to get up and throw some punches and shoot some hostiles. Every moment that he wasn't doing that was a moment wasted in Ralph's opinion, and the thought of all that constantly wasted time made him want to scream with frustration. He needed an outlet and he needed one now.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he reached under his cot's pillow and retrieved the M6 sidearm he kept under it at all times when not in the field. The weapon's grip--worn completely smooth by his constant attentions--felt cool and comforting in his palm, its cold metal clashing wonderfully with his hot hand. With a practiced ease, Ralph ejected its clip to make sure that it was loaded, then replaced it and ran a single finger down the barrel until it slid down onto the weapon's safety catch and flicked it off. He checked around him carefully for surveillance equipment of any kind. Spartans like himself considered it their duty in life to make it as hard as possible for their Office of Naval Intelligence handlers to monitor them, and the ONI boys had learned that the best way to avoid thousands of credits worth of equipment damage was to avoid putting cameras in Spartan barracks at all. Still, it never hurt to be careful.

Especially with what Ralph was about to do.

If he were somehow monitored doing this, he'd be buried in so many investigations and psych evaluations that he'd have no choice but to snap and kill a few people just so that all those psychologists and analysts had something real to investigate.

Confident that there was no one and nothing around to observe him, Ralph cricked his neck one last time before raising the M6 and resting its barrel on his temple. He let out a sigh of pure satisfaction as all the tension flowed out of his body and was replaced with a feeling of intense, almost ecstatic, calm. His finger curled around the trigger, and everything was at peace in the universe of Ralph-G299.

Now everything was just as it should be. There was nothing standing between him and oblivion except the immeasurably tiny sliver of air that rested between his finger and the M6's trigger. He was looking death in the face and Death was looking right back, daring him to slip up or lose control. All it would take was one loud noise, one startled grunt from someone walking in on him, and his enhanced reactions would force him to flinch and press down on the trigger. A distant part of him wondered if he would even feel the pistol's recoil in his wrist before a chunk of lead was propelled through his brain, but most of him wasn't even in the room anymore...

''He was resting on the roof of a low building, his armored body covered by a thin sheet of camouflage foil that hopefully rendered him undetectable to the Insurrectionist soldiers that milled around on the ground below him. There was a sniper rifle in his hands, and he was gazing down it's scope through his helmet's Heads Up Display interface, his eyes scanning the view for the moment when his target would come into view. Then he'd need to neutralize him with a single shot and make his getaway into the surrounding woodlands while Jake lit up the other side of the Insurrectionist compound to cover his escape. One false move, one missed shot, and their mission would be compromised. And a compromised mission could easily lead to one or both of their deaths...'' This was the real world, the one that Ralph really and truly lived in. Back in the barracks or in transit to an assignment, he was little more than a shadow, a meaningless speck amidst the immense bulk of space. But out here, he was the author of his own fate and the fates of dozens and possibly hundreds of others. The hunt. The chase. The fights. That was what Ralph lived for, what he had been trained and raised to live for since he was less than seven years old. That was his reality, not the reality invented by a collection of faceless, uniformed goons who had given him a number and made him just one amongst hundreds of other Spartans.

But now there was an undercurrent of discomfort amidst all the adrenaline, one that made him frown and open his eyes and realize that he wasn't actually in those woods. No, he was simply sitting on a cot in a small, drab barracks room and he was in briefs and an undershirt holding a gun to his own head. Something had ruined the illusion this time, and with a surge of sudden disgust he threw the weapon down on the bed and leapt to his feet. It had been his dream, his miserable dream that had snuck in and messed things up for him this time, and he channeled his burst of loathing with a blindingly fast punch that left a dent in the metal wall. Ignoring the shooting pain in his knuckles he bent over and got to work checking his gear.

''Goddamn you, Terrence and Mary. Goddamn you for dying. You too, Cassandra. And Simon. Why couldn't you have just stayed dead, huh? Why'd you have to come back and fuck everything up?''

He sincerely hoped that Jake was right about whatever they were about to be briefed on. This had better be something big.

He needed it to be.

5
Stryker held his hands tightly around the Fox's steering wheel. The ramp outside slammed onto the Fox's hull. The Engineers behind Stryker were simultaneously attaching wires to different monitors. Stryker continued making calculations on the dashboard in front of him as the Fox began to slowly move. A voice spoke to him through the dashboard.

"Fox online. Engines online. Weapon systems offline. Would you like to enable weapon systems?" It asked.

"Yes." Stryker said. Another portion of the Fox's dashboard lit up as the Fox started to drive over large humps. One of the Huragok bumped into the other as the explosive vehicle kept bumping. After driving approximately 6 klicks from the temporary base the fox was dropped off, one of the Engineers came up to Stryker and tapped him on the shoulder with it's tentacle as the other pointed to an unnoticed area of the dashboard. Surrounding the Fox was a dozen hostile targets of Pakistani descent. Suddenly, the shield flared up. The multiple turrets stationed of the Fox fired at the terrorists. Stryker slammed his foot on the pedal and the Fox broke through dozens of nearly destroyed buildings. As Stryker kept taking heat, a gigantic skyscraper stood in front of him. Confident, Stryker smashed through the building like a gigantic stack of dominoes. The Fox leaped out and landed. Following the Fox's jump, a beam of light streaked past the Fox like a bullet as it impacted the building. The Onager cannon glared at the Fox with it's charging gun. The Fox raised it's cannon and fired. The Onager exploded like a firework.

Stryker turned the Fox and started driving a long dirt highway as the many Magpie fighters took flight and battled the Pelicans and Hornets overhead. Stryker kept holding the pedal as the Fox ran over countless bodies of anti UNSC resistance. The explosive rounds of the Fox's secondary cannon blew holes in the ruined buildings on the way. Suddenly, the ground rocked and trembled. A gigantic hole in the ground above the aerial battle opened. A large missile-like structure made it's descent to space. Three of the Magpies above took chase and followed the missile into atmosphere. The missile shot straight past a UNSC Marathon-class cruiser as the three Magpies docked in. A large slipspace portal opened wide as a gigantic Sangheili ship went through and fired it's plasma torpedoes at the missile. A large explosion rocked the sky and the enemy aircraft in the sky began to fall. The supercarrier was simultaneously fired at by the remaining Onager cannons until their demise at the powerful, unstoppable carrier. The Marathon-class entered the slipspace portal the carrier had came from. The Fox's radio transmission crackled.

"Humans. We require you help at our homeworld. The Fallen have risen! Something had come with us in our escape." the shipmaster said.

"Commander Damion. We have no time to assist in your homeworld, we have just stopped a nuclear missile from attacking the US. We need to help civilians." a colonel said. The radio crackled energy again until a more familiar voice spoke.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Jackson-A104 of Special Warfare group Three. The UNSC Marathon-class cruiser Invictus had just entered Supreme Commander Cedul's portal. Shanghai is under attack by basically their own fleet. They call themselves 'The Fallen'. We require immediate support." the radio said. Stryker stopped the vehicle as a black colored Phantom dropship fired and flipped the Fox over while the Huragok were distracted. Stryker flew out of his seat and rocked around in the Fox. The next moment the Fox stopped, the Huragok were dead and Stryker had landed out of the Fox. The Phantom hovered above him as he was levitating above to the Phantom. Swiftly, the Magpies pursuing the Phantom was no match to the modified flying vehicle as it just sped to the portal as it began to close.

6
Lieutenant Commander Issac Cawthorn watched silently as the Sangheili walked into the operation centre, flanked by half a dozen Marine guards. Their wary eyes were trained on the aliens. One might think they were simply vigilant from a passing glance, but Cawthorn could see the whiteness of their knuckles that clutched their MA5s, and the stiff-shouldered posture that would certainly not be ideal in a combat situation. Not to mention the fact that the Sangheili were easily two heads taller than them. All in all, the Marines don't make for intimidation very well.

Cawthorn maintained his outward casual demeanour; he was one of only two commissioned officers currently in the room, but the Sangheili didn't need to know that. He was standing directly above and behind them on the second level, hidden in a shadow, no less. They wouldn't see him unless they knew he was there. Like most of the technicians in the ops centre, they would assume the only person they'd be addressing was—

"Welcome to Eagle's Nest, Sangheili," said Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood. His voice held no trace of hostility, but Cawthorn caught the frosty hint that wasn't associated with even military discipline.

The alien leader, armoured in silver-white, made no efforts to feign politeness. "Admiral. We require your help, immediately."

Despite himself, Cawthorn leaned forward slightly, interested. This was certainly uncharacteristic for Sangheili. ''None of the usual show of pride and honour. Something big must have happened.'' Careful not to miss a single word, he reached up to his uniform lapels and activated the camera folded underneath. Perhaps an investigation will be necessary later.

"What is it you need from us?" Lord Hood asked in the same quiet voice.

The Sangheili leader handed him a elliptical magenta device. The Admiral read it briefly, his eyes flickering back and forth across the holographic screen. He didn't say anything.

"The message was from the Arbiter himself," the alien said. A few of the technicians in the room glanced up involuntarily. "He believes that it is necessary for us to seek your military."

Hood was still silent, his eyes still. Cawthorn knew that he was thinking hard. But the Sangheili obviously thought otherwise.

"There is not much time," the leader said, almost impatiently. "Our ship is in orbit awaiting departure, and we will need as many of your forces as you can spare."

"I don't know," said Hood at last. "We're a bit busy at the moment."

"Do you mean to refuse us?" the silver-armoured alien asked, his voice raising slightly. "After our agreement during the Schism? We had come to your aid when you were under threat of the Forerunners, and now you do are saying that you would turn us away."

The tension was rising in the room. The Marines shifted their feet. Cawthorn could see a few of the technicians surreptitiously reaching for their sidearms. He himself had an M6 magnum strapped to his side, but knew better than to give away his position should something break out in the room. ''There's more than enough personnel in the room. I don't need to get involved.''

Hood met the Sangheili's eyes for the first time. "I'm not saying anything of the sort. It's just that your arrival was unexpected, and we need to think about something like this, and at such short notice, it could take a while—"

"Listen, Admiral," the leader said, with a bite in his voice now. "We did not journey all the way from Sanghelios just so you would leave us to deal with this crisis. Our newborns are being kidnapped as we speak. The Fallen think in ways completely different from ours, so we cannot hope to overcome them on our own."

"Alright," Hood said, casting a warning glance around the room. The more curious personnel that had caught the end of the conversation looked back to their screens. Turning to one of the technicians next to him, he said, "Inform Commander Montrose that he needs to ready his frigate, and locate SPARTAN-116. Tell him to rally the Spartans—"

"You do not have a lot of Spartans at your disposal," the Sangheili remarked.

The Admiral sighed. "Our Marines are dealing with something else at the moment. I don't think your allies will find them very helpful anyway." The statement sounded almost accusing. Before the alien could respond, however, Hood added, "You will bring your ship into the frigate. We have recently improved our Slipspace drives, so the return trip will be faster."

Cawthorn caught the slightest of huffs from the Sangheili. But he responded, "Very well. We will wait aboard our ship." Without another word, they turned around and walking out of the ops centre, cutting between the Marines that were standing behind them. As Hood began giving out more orders, Cawthorn switched off the camera before silently walking up to the railing that overlooked the room below. The Admiral immediately looked up and spotted him. Without a word, he disappeared into the stairwell, closing the door below him.

Cawthorn moved back into the shadows as Hood reached the top of the stairs. "Looks like our...session will have to be put on hold, Admiral," he said.

"I'll wait," Hood replied. "I assume you heard everything."

"Yes. I think I'll send someone along to get a good view of what's happening."

The Admiral scowled. "The Sangheili want Spartans. This isn't going to be much of a cloak-and-dagger operation."

Cawthorn gave a thin smile. "Don't worry about that, Admiral. I know what I'm doing."

"If you want a full report, you can always interrogate the Spartans after the mission," Hood said tersely.

"You know I don't trust SPARTAN-116, sir. And he's got more of a grip on those Spartans than I'd like." Cawthorn walked past him, making for the second-floor exit.

''I know just the right person for this job. It's about time he woke up.''

Justin-057 writhed erratically, banging his fists on the layer of glass that covered him. He felt twin lances of pain shoot down his wrists, but ignored them as he struggled to free himself. Where am I? What's going on? He wanted to open his eyes, but couldn't—

He heard a hiss; he felt a spray of air on his face, and the next thing he knew, he tumbled out of whatever he was trapped in and onto a cold floor. He heard shouting in the room, and tried to stand up, but felt someone grab his arm. He tried to pull away, but couldn't summon his strength.

Something sharp pierced his forearm, but it wasn't painful. It was...it was a syringe.

''Okay. Now open your eyes.''

Justin opened his eyes. He was lying in a room, but it didn't look alien. He was in a human facility. That was good, that meant he wasn't—

He felt the grip on his arm loosen. "Okay, now that we've got you calmed down, can you listen to me?"

He looked round at the speaker. A uniformed man was staring at him. In one hand was a syringe. ''UNSC Navy, right? Good, I remember that.'' Justin stood up stiffly, feeling as if his joints were made of wood. Still, he managed to hold himself straight, looming a head over the technician.

"Alright, you've been in cryo a long time," the cryo said. "It's normal if you can't remember everything at first. It'll come back to you."

He handed Justin a Navy uniform that was folded on a nearby table. As he got dressed, the memories began to form in his mind again. The Covenant, Reach, Earth, and—

"Where am I?" he asked. At least, that was what he tried to say. Instead, he gave a violent cough and spat something slimy onto the floor. What is that...?

The technician didn't look the least bit alarmed. "I was wondering where that ended up...at least you got it out of your throat. Now, if you would come with me."

Justin's mind was teeming with questions, but he decided not to ask them right now. This guy probably doesn't have the answers.

The tech led him out of the cryo chamber and down a hall. They reached a lift. "Get in," he said. "There's someone waiting to debrief you at the top."

The Spartan gave him a curt nod, and stepped in. The doors slid shut behind him, and he felt a subtle shift as it moved downward. As he waited in silence, he took deep breaths, trying to piece together his recollections. ''What had happened? How long have I been in cryo?''

After standing in the lift for three minutes, Justin began to wonder how far down he was going. ''Am I on a ship or in a base? I don't even know if I'm going underground.''

Just then, the doors slid open. He began to step out, but someone was already waiting for him there.

A black-uniformed man was standing just outside the lift, standing straight with his hands behind his back. On each of his shoulders were a single star and silver bar.

Justin wasn't familiar with the insignia. Did the UNSC change them a while back? But he was fairly certain that the man was an officer. So he raised his hand to salute.

"No need for that," the officer said. "I'd like to have a word with you, SPARTAN-057. One-on-one."

Puzzled, he lowered his hand. He decided to ask a question. "Who are you, sir?"

"Lieutenant Commander Isaac Cawthorn. Follow me. I have a mission for you."

This guy has ONI written all over him, Justin thought as he walked down the dark hallway with Cawthorn. He didn't know whether he was nervous about this meeting; ONI always had a way of making everything feel shifty. But then again, it would be good to be a part of the UNSC again, carrying out his duties as a Spartan.

7
UNSC Frigate: The Show Goes On, Sanghelios geosynchronous orbit SPARTAN-D340

Ryu boarded his Pelican, admiring the art work that he had painted on the nose of the transport, It resembeled an enemy from a ancient eight-bit video game, that in turn resembled a bullet. He snapped back into reality and reminded himself of task at hand, prepping the craft for flight. He had heard that Fallen were kidnapping Elite infants, but he didn't understand why. Again he forced himself to focus. Then he noticed Chen still wasn't here, he sighed, Chen had always been somewhat insubordinate, but nothing serious ever happened to him.

"Sonia? Do me a favor and punch Chen in the jaw."Ryu said. Five minutes later, and Chen was not only up, but fully armored.

"Morinin." Chen just glared at him from beneath his EVA helmet, as he boarded the Pelican.

"We're headed for the Vadam Keep, reports of heavy fighting around there, assume they could use our help.

"Flying headlong into a fight? Doesn't seem like your style, Ryu." Sonia commented. Ryu ignored it. His eyes widened, a barrage of fuel rod was headed his way. He pulled hard to the left on his flight stick and tapped a few buttons, a few seconds later and the Pelican swerved hard to the left and slowly faded away. Several Heavy Needler rounds were apparently unfazed by the ruse contiued to follow the craft. He dove and weaved between a pair of rock spires as the Needler rounds impacted the rock. Ryu exhaled for the first time during the whole exchange. His RADAR displayed that a trio of Banshees were on his six. He swerved to dodge the plasma bolts and fuel rods attempting to shoot him down.

"Ryu, what's with the fancy flying?! I'm getting airs-oof!!" Chen demanded, as he was swept off his feet by the force of the turn.

"Shut up, sit your ass down, and let me focus!!" Ryu was now visibly sweating, he did a one hundred eighty degree turn and opened up with the 70 Mike Mike chaingun mounted beneath his cockpit and unleashed the transport's payload of ANVIL ASM missiles, none of the Ground Support Aircraft survived the barrage.

"I'm setting you guy down behind the keep, Chen, get on the HMG, cover Sonia as she gets out" Ryu ordered

War does not determine who is right, only who is left 17:08, May 19, 2011 (UTC)

8
Marcus checked his SMG's. He had been told this was a simple uprising, that he was to take a small recon team to take care of it. Marcus knew this wasn't an average uprising. He fought down rebellions on Earth, and fought against and with Sangheili warriors before. This time, however, he was a commanding officer and was leading his squad in this mission. There was Rob, the computer expert;Tyler, the resident chatterbox and medic; Jenn, the team's sniper; and Jimmy, the strongest and the CCC expert. When Marcus found the group waiting by the Pelican, he heard Tyler calling, "Marcus!"

Marcus grinned. These were his friends, who have been with him since the Human-Covenant War. He knew when to have Tyler shut up, or to have Jimmy have to separate Tyler and Rob when they argued, or when to just let things flow.

"I heard they're kidnapping Elite babies." Tyler whispered as Marcus walked over,"They stole the relatives of the Arbiter."

Marcus remained stone cold. He thought this was going to ber an easy job. Now, however, things just got complicated. This isn't part of a simple uprising. This was an act of war.

"Squad, get your guns," Marcus said, "We need to be ready for the on-coming storm."

---''It's all here, black and white, clear as crystal. 18:36, May 20, 2011 (UTC)

9
Buchanan Brown woke up with blurry vision. He soon realized he was in an unknown location. "Good, you're awake" said an unknown voice.

Buchanan Brown attempted to stand up. However as hard as he tried, the best he was able to do was sit up.

"Don't worry, the drugs we gave you are temporary." said the voice, which he realized was coming from a person sitting at his bedside.

"What did you do to me?" murmured Buchanan.

"I saved your life." the voice was now coming from a bald man, 50s or 60s. "You were shot in the head. You are obviously suffering from short-term amnesia.

Buchanan Brown attempted to stand up.

"Don't get up quite yet. I still have to administer some tests" said the man.

Nevertheless, Buchanan stood up. "Who are you?" asked Buchanan.

"I'm Doc Butler." answered the man. "I already know who you are, Buchanan. Welcome back to the Mojave Express, Mr. Brown, we'll be landing at MacAslan spaceport, soon."

"Wait? MacAslan as in New Vegas?" asked Buchanan frantically.

"Indeed," said Doc Butler. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes... there is a very big problem." said Buchanan fearfully. "You should've left me for dead, seeing as your medical handy work will have been for nothing."

"Why's that?" asked Doc Butler.

"Oh a little thing to do with me being on Robert House's fucking hit list." Cried Buchanan. "And as we know, whatever the richest man in the colonies wants, the richest man in the colonies gets. He wants a planet. He gets New Vegas."

"You can stay on the freighter while it's landed here in New Vegas, then we take up and go to Banda." assured Butler. "However this is my stop, you'll have to take up staying on the Freighter with the Captain.

"And who might that be?" asked Buchanan.

"Dane Steward." answered a bearded man walking into the hold. "Or you can just call me Stu, after my middle name."

10
Southern Military District, Chicago Industrial Zone, Earth 7:00 PM

MCPO Ben-B314 slowly began to relax as he pulled up to the Brandes-DeVille Apartment Complex in the Chicago Industrial Zone. While Texoma was being rebuilt, he had relocated here. And he was doing fine in his semi-retirement.

He left his mind drift as his stripped-down Civillian Warthog pulled to a total stop in front of the complex. For the past three years he had become the head trainer of the SABRE Program, which was reinstituted in 2555 by Fleet Admiral Cole and General of the Air Force Randy McPherson. Research facilities had been opened up all across the Colonies, and Ben's track record as a pilot spoke for itself, so he'd been named the head trainer of the facility on terra firma.

So McPherson and Cole awoke him from cryo-sleep and he'd been training Marine, Navy, and Air Force recruits how to use the Sabre. He enjoyed it, but missed the thrill of being an active soldier. He knew not when he would ever be called back into active duty, if ever, but he would be ready. But, for know, he'd continue to take the ball and roll with it.

Ever since the end of the Human-Covenant War in 2553, Ben spent his time between liberating Covenant Loyalist-controlled worlds, leading the campaign to rebuild the Commonwealth of Texoma, and peacefully napping in cryo. Some would consider that instability, but he had seen more unstability in the last 5 years than most would see in a lifetime, so he'd become used to it. If anything, it drove him.

He exited his 'Hog and quietly strolled towards his apartment. His wasn't very far into the complex, maybe 17 feet, then upstairs. Before continuing on, he pulled out a small, palm-sized data module that had been modified to play music files, designed to looked like the "iPod" of the 21st century. He put the earbuds in his ears and turned it on. The song "Down With the Sickness" by a 21st century band known as Disturbed began to play.

Ben was well-known for his knowledge and appreciation of 20th- and 21st-century music, specifically the long-dead genres of "classic rock", "heavy metal", and "rap". While most of his comrades listened to Flip music, Ben did not care for it and embraced his fascination of these 500-year old groups whom many people had never heard of. He had even led a campaign several years ago to restore that type of music to society after he came across the old Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. It was semi-successful, and he had even, for a very short time, been the Hall of Fame's curator before going back into cryo.

He cycled through the songs until he found one he wanted to listen to. "Personal Jesus" by Johnny Cash, heralded as a giant in the music world in his time, began playing. Ben felt good listening to the music as he finally found his apartment. He ascended the stairs and reached his door, Number A114.....when he noticed something strange. The door was unlocked. He never left the door unlocked. He pushed the door open a crack. It was dark.

Something isn't right here.... Ben thought. He reflexively reached for the M6 Sidearm holstered in his belt. He rarely fired it, 'cuz nowadays he didn't need to, but being a SPARTAN, he knew he needed to be prepared for anything.

Slowly, he edged into the apartment, the sidearm raised. The room was still dark as he looked around. He heard a rustling noise come from another room, his bedroom probably. He flipped on the lightswitch. The living room was vacant.

Ben slowly moved towards his bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and that room was dark too. But as he listened closer, he heard more rustling sounds. There's definately something going on in there. he thought. He kicked open the door, flipped on the lights, and prepared to unload every round of the pistol. But he stopped himself just in time when he saw who was standing in there.

A thin, dark-haired, goateed man wearing glasses and an ONI uniform stood there, a smirk on his face. "Hello, ANTIOCH."

"WILL 'O THE WISP?" asked Ben. This man was an ONI operative, or a spook, as they were often called, known simply as Codename: WILL 'O THE WISP (although Ben often called him WILL.) He had been a longtime associate of Ben's during the War and had served as Ben's commanding officer a few times during his tour of duty with ONI Section 1. The last time he'd seen him face-to-face was in 2551, when he was introduced to the SABRE Program for the first time. Since then, in typical ONI fashion, he'd lost all contact with him. Yet now, here he was.

"What are you doing here? You realize you're breaking and entering, right?" Ben asked WILL, and the ONI operative nodded. "Come now, SPARTAN-B314, you of all people should know that some rules don't apply to ONI in emergency situations." Ben rolled his eyes. "So, tell me....what are you doing here."

The smile vanished from WILL's face. And in that moment, Ben knew there was something going on. Something big.

"We need you again, Spartan." the operative told him. "Now. That's why I've gone to such great lengths to find you. We need to leave as soon as possible. I have a prowler in orbit ready as soon as its convenient. There's a lot to talk about....."

UNSC Niagra Falls, Geosynchronous Orbit Above Earth 1 hour later

Ben and WILL O' THE WISP walked towards the bridge of the prowler Niagra Falls. Ben was anxious. He wondered what this was all about. He had a feeling it wouldn't be good.

"WILL, what's going on here?" Ben blurted out for what felt like the millionth time.

"Be patient." replied the ONI operative.

Soon enough they got to the bridge. When they crossed the threshold, a dozen bridge officers looked up from what they were doing. One stepped forth. "He's in his quarters. He's expecting you." WILL nodded. "Thanks." Then he turned to Ben. "Follow me." He led Ben to a small door on the bridge.

It appeared to be a spacious office, but only a portion of it was lit. Even the desk appeared to be partially in shadow. Ben couldn't tell if there was someone sitting at it or not. That is, not until he heard a voice come from the shadows.

"Loosen up, Sierra. You look too nervous to be a Spartan."

Ben knew that voice, and a moment later, its owner emerged from the shadows. It was none other than Rear Admiral Peter Longstreet.

"Well, hello, Old Timer." Ben said good naturedly to his good friend and former commanding officer. Longstreet cracked a grin. "Same old guy, ain't you, Ben? Sit down." Longstreet pulled up another chair. Ben took it and sat down in front of the desk. He did the same to WILL O' THE WISP, but the ONI spook politely declined and moved into the shadows near the door.

"So....why am I here?" Ben asked Longstreet.

Longstreet paused a moment before continuing. "We have trouble. Big trouble. On Sangheilios. War is about to erupt there in a big way."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Really? The Sangheili? Trouble in paradise?"

Longstreet snickered slightly. "Literally. They're about to go to war with each other."

Ben was dumbfounded. A Sangheili Civil War? He said nothing however, as he wanted to know more.

"Have you heard of the separatist group known as the Fallen?" Ben nodded. “I have heard about them, but all I know about them is that they were a very outspoken Sangheili separatist group, not ones to actually go to war.”

“Then you know as much as we do.” Longstreet replied. “All we know NOW is that they need our assistance, but at the moment, we are racing to face a deadly enemy that we barely know anything about. So....I have an expert with me.” Longstreet nodded to a corner of the room, still in the shadows. “And someone who I know you are familiar with, Ben.” In his peripheral vision, Ben saw someone tall and very slender emerge from the shadows and stand next to the Rear Admiral. And Ben noticed with a shock who it was....

“Greetings, Spartan.” said High General Adal ‘Myram.

Ben had a long history with Adal. This Sangheili had served as the High General of the Covenant during the Fall of Reach.....during Ben’s time with Noble Team....and after the Pillar of Autumn escaped, it was Adal’s forces that surrounded him, alone in the ruins of Aszod.....and Adal himself that rammed his Energy Sword through Ben’s chest, almost killing him. However, in the same year, when the Sangheili broke away from the Covenant during the Siege of Earth, it was Adal who rescued an unconscious Ben from a Loyalist supercarrier spearheading the attack on Mexico during the Battles of Mexico City, Guadalajara, and Cancun from orbit after Ben had disabled its reactor...and was planning on going down with the ship. He had almost been responsible for Ben's death, but had also risked his own life to save Ben's.

"It has been along time, Adal." Ben replied.

"You two can catch up, later, we're burnin' daylight." replied Longstreet. "General, tell us about the Fallen."

Adal sighed heavily before continuing. "The Fallen are, as you know, a group of radical extremist Sangheili. They were first formed not long after the Great War ended. They were comprised of Sangheili who disliked the Alliance with Humans. For many years, the Fallen were led in secret by an Sangheili named Atsu 'Hidal. But rescently, they have apparently come under new leadership, and they've come out in the open. There have been conflicts erupting all over Sangheilios."

"It sounds like hell." said WILL O' THE WISP, who'd been silent the whole time.

Adal nodded solemnly. "But there's more." he went on. "We've rescently learned that the Fallen have....." Adal forced himself to say the next sentance. ".....been kidnapping Sangheili newborns."

Ben recoiled. "That is sick." he replied with disgust. Adal hung his head in shame, as if it was his own fault. Longstreet looked as if his mother had just been murdered. Even WILL O' THE WISP made a face as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"The Fallen have reached new lows for Sangheili. They have besmirched any type of honor they had left." Adal said, a venom now in his voice. "Even newborns from the Arbiter's own keep have been taken....."

"If this is their first step, then what could possibly be next?" asked Ben.

"That is why we are going." replied Longstreet. "And why we need you, Ben. Sangheilios is about to be catapulted into the longest, bloodiest, most brutal and gruesome conflict it's ever faced....but they don't need to do it alone. ONI's pulling all its resources for this one, Ben. We're gonna hit the Fallen before they hit us. And you're our man to do it. You and Adal."

"I will, indeed, be partners with you on this one, Spartan. You will need my knowledge of Sangheilios." Ben nodded.

The Rear Admiral opened his mouth, but Ben cut him off. "No need to ask, Pete: I'm in."

Longstreet raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't going to ask that, Spartan....not yet. Do you think that you and Adal are the only ones I've recruited? Step this way." Longstreet stood up and pressed a few buttons on a hidden console somewhere on his desk. A light came up on the left side of the room, revealing a door. No....not just a door. A lift.

The door hissed open. Two very tall figures, clad it MJOLNIR armor variants but without helmets, stepped out. For a moment, Ben didn't recognize either of them. But after a moment the one nearest him said, "'Sup Ben?".

Ben burst into a huge grin, lept up out of his seat, and embraced his brother Leon. "Leon! Where ya been, bro?" Leon smiled. "Oh, around." Ben turned to the other man, Darius. "And Darry! Good to see you too, man!" Ben fist bumped both of them, then turned to Longstreet, "So you got us and Adal for your team in this mission? I like your thinking, Pete."

"Hold on." said Longstreet. "There's still one more." They all turned to the lift. And slowly, the lift opened again: another figure in green MJOLNIR armor (the SCOUT variant, Ben noticed) and a Sniper Rifle slung across his back emerged, and looked very familiar to Ben. And, in a burst of recognition, Ben knew who it was.

"Jun?!" Ben blurted out.

Jun-A266 turned towards Ben, and slowly took off his helmet. It was Jun. And he look exactly the same.

"Six." he said. "Or....Ben, I should say. It has been a long time."

Ben paused. That was the first time that Jun had ever called him by his true name. The two former teammates walked towards each other.

"I thought you were dead." Ben said.

"I thought you were dead too." replied Jun.

"Well, it looks like we're the only ones of Noble who aren't dead." Ben said solemnly.

"This new mission would be the best way to honor their memory." stated Jun.

"Well said, SPARTAN-A266." said Longstreet. "This is your new team."

"Spartans." said Adal. "I am Adal 'Myram, High General of Sangheilios, and I'm your partner for this mission." The others greeeted him politely.

Ben turned to face Darius and Leon. "Remember during the War when we jokingly called ourselves 'The Dragoons'? Well, looks like The Dragoons are back in business."

"Literally." added Longstreet.

Everyone looked at Longstreet. He continued, "You are officially known as the Dragoons."

No one spoke for a full minute. Then Darius blurted out "Cool!" And Everyone agreed.

Longstreet turned to face them all. "Better get some sleep, everyone. We've got a long road ahead of us."

Only the strongest will survive. Lead me to heaven when we die. I am the shadow on the wall. I am the one who will save us all. May 20, 2011 (UTC)

Part Two
Autel entered Cyla's room, where Urei 'Cazal was speaking to his sister. She was still ill, and answered quietly. Hearing him enter, he squeezed her hand gently, and turned. "So this is what the Fallen's proclaimed honour has led them to, Autel 'Vadam."

"Isto preaches hypocrisy," Autel said. "He would feel no shame in killing newborns, and would have done so if there were no one of veneration to stop him. Long have I disagreed with the Fallen's motives, but they have always stood by their beliefs with the honour they say they hold."

"See the effect he has struck upon us. Our offspring hold no guilt, yet they are the victims; the mothers spilled no blood, and being deprived of their children they become haunted; and those in the military will have no intention of stepping down, they will vow revenge and try harder to overcome the Fallen. Isto is a fool, and one day he will see judgement."

Autel approached Cyla. "I must go now. The humans will be here soon, and I swear that I will find them, no matter how long it takes, I will bring our children back." He stood up, looked at Urei, and clenched his fist over his chest, which was returned. He quickly left the Keep and ran down the mountainside.

So much had happened over the last few days, and everything was becoming more turmoiled. Thel was still trying to negotiate with the Fallen, and was trying to hold down the fact that they were now at war. But soon everyone would know anyway, and at the moment, it was best for the Arbiter to feign ignorance as to what was really going on while the matters were attended to inconspicuously.

When he reached the Demal Keep, an elder allowed him to enter, and he headed for the medical facility. Sona was striding impatiently up and down the hall, while Zehr'tul and Taszar stood by a pillar, conversing quietly. The subject of their conversation was obviously Isto 'Vadum. Fira had been in surgery for hours now, and nothing had been heard.

Presently the door slid open, and a blood-soaked Sangheili and a Huragok floated out. As both approached Autel, Sona, Zehr'tul, and Taszar walked over to hear the discourse.

The Huragok started whistling and gibbering, and the Sangheili translated.

"Fira 'Demal has sustained major burns to most of his body, and almost half his organs are dead or failing. One of his hearts was destroyed. He will require a lot of blood and several transplants. He has a slim chance of survival, but he's in a coma, so he won't bleed quite as much from his reduced heart rate."

This was not necessarily bad news. His friend had a sliver of a chance to survive, but he had already survived the explosion of a plasma grenade. Maybe he could beat the odds twice.

"Thank you."

The Sangheili surgeon nodded, and the Huragok twittered, then both reentered the room to continue the work.

Autel slumped into a seat, drained of energy. He didn't know whether to return to fighting the Fallen or help track Isto's corvette to what it was right now. Perhaps everything would be sorted when the humans arrived.

Footsteps reached his ears, and everyone turned to stare down the hall.

Autel looked up and saw three humans in luminescent green armour approaching him.

The front most one spoke first. "Autel?"

Autel stood, the sight of the supersoldiers stirring hope in his mind. "Thank you for coming." Now, maybe we can strike back.

Maria Esquival worried about her son. She couldn't help it. He worked for the UNSC, as an ODST on the now slightly clearer front lines. Every day she feared that today would be the day, and she'd open the door to find two Marines there, holding the UNSC flag. She remembered the day the Covenant came to Earth, and not long after found out that her husband had been killed. She didn't want to lose her son the same way.

She finished her shopping, paid for the groceries, and went home. Maria lived on a pension from years of work in civic sociology, occasionally contracting out for the UNSC to establish colonies. Under her guidance, colonies had flourished.

All for the UNSC.

Her car glided slowly into her driveway, and she stepped out of the vehicle. Maria popped the trunk and took the bags out and carried them into the house. Putting the groceries away, she closed the refrigerator door and the lights went out.

A gigantic hand clamped over her mouth, and she was lifted in the air, kicking and struggling, turned to face her attacker. An Elite had a hold on her. His armour, however, was very odd for the alien.

It seemed to be a throwback to the human middle aged eras. It had many overlapping white plates that were made to slide easily over each other, but it obviously had incredible technology behind it. She could almost feel the shield around the Elite's armour. His helmet covered his head. The eyepieces were slanted, made to inspire fear in his enemies. It was doing a pretty good job of it, too. An Energy Sword sprang to life, the light from it throwing shadows throughout her kitchen.

The Elite clicked its mandibles, and spoke through a translator.

"If you scream for help, you die, human!"

"What do you want?" Were the first words out of Maria's mouth when the Elites tore the gag out.

The leader, one who called himself Isto, stood on the other side of her table, his mask slung over his shoulder.

"I want you to remember what you used to fight for. Do you remember your time in..." He thought for a moment. "The Rubble?"

She glared into his eyes. Was that what this was about? The UNSC were allies with the Sangheili now, were they rooting out anyone with traces to the Insurrection?

"Of course, but I'm not even an Innie. I used to live on Mad—"

He cut her off. "That has nothing to do with it! We want your talents, in order to strike a blow to the UNSC and Separatists at once."

"I'm not sure—"

"Remember what you wanted? You wanted to work with the Covenant, you knew that we were the right ones, that the UNSC is the tyrannical regime!"

Maria's gaze faltered, then hardened again. "But those Jackals betrayed us! They were set to slit our throats!"

"The Kig-Yar can never be trusted! It is in their blood to be treacherous! But I, as a Sangheili of the Covenant, and a Fallen, give you my word and honour that I cannot betray you. Remember why you hated the UNSC. Where has your fire gone?"

"What are you doing here?"

He told her about the kidnapping of the Sangheili newborns, and his plan to lure the Sangheili to Earth. Maria tried to pull away.

"I won't help you do this!" she said. "We're allies now! What honour is there in kidnapping children?" She shuddered. "I can't believe you would do this to your own species!"

Isto's grip tightened, and placed the Sword in front of her face. "If you do not do as I say, I will kill you."

There was steel in her eyes. "Then kill me. I won't help you do this."

He was surprised, and a bit impressed. This human had as much honour as any Sangheili.

Isto's pondered for a moment. His mandibles parted in a nasty smile. "If you do not help me, I will kill your son."

Maria seemed to be struggling with herself. "You—"

"Honour comes at a price!" he said. "You were willing to pay that price, and I am too! Now you will do as I say, or you will watch me kill everyone you care about in front of your eyes. Starting with your son."

She looked frustrated as she looked away from his eyes. At last, she said, "What do you want me to do?"

Isto 'Vadum smiled, and explained the plan. He was amused by her looks of repugnance.

"Remember," he said. "Speak of this to no one. If you do, I will find out."

"You don't have to tell me that," Maria said with a spark of defiance. "But I'll warn you now that this won't work out for anyone, least of all you." The fire suddenly left her eyes, to be replaced with dejection. With a sigh, she and left the kitchen.

1
Norsak 'Zaremee reclined into his crystal zinc throne, sighing as he attentively examined the roasted, cooled, purple Ontaan waiting in his right palm. Upon confirming that it would do, he swiftly sunk his teeth into the tangy delicacy. He didn't allow his mind time to consider how rare such fruit were, and how greatly they were desired by lower Sangheili. Obligated to live up to his egocentric nature, he merely grazed the fruit's outer layers, tossing the undesirables to a platinum tray waiting on the far opposite of the grand hall.

'Zaremee tiredly watched as one of his personal culinarians entered the room to fetch the fruit and dispose of it. His gaze anxiously shifted towards the unexpected visitor, who had apparently been escorted. He quickly recognized this officer as a Field Marshall. After minutes of reverent pacing towards his majesty, the Sangheili began,

"Master, we have received word from our Special Operations Officer Autel 'Vadam that Human reinforcements have arrived."

"That is good news. ." Norsak exclaimed. The messenger was silent. "I will leave the managing their support to him."

"Yes, sir." stated the messenger before leaving.

3
The Fallen's leadership might have focused on broader schemes of kidnapping and other intrigues designed to bring the Sangheili government to its knees, but it still needed local commanders to focus on the smaller picture and maintain the fighting that raged across Sanghelios every day. It was this fighting that prevented the Sangheili military from devoting its full might to tearing the rebel organization apart from its roots and instead forced it to devote countless warriors and resources to respond to Fallen attacks and to defend against even more attacks that seemed capable of springing up in any one of Sanghelios's provinces. The local commanders themselves were a mixed bag of guerilla leaders, conventional warriors, espionage coordinators, and even concealed clan leaders all united under their goal of freeing the Sangheili from any threat of human influence.

Cosu 'Zandan, Kaidon of the Zandan keep, happened to be one of the latter type of local commanders, and Ro'nin despised him for it.

As the Sangheili mercenary strode as quickly as he could through one of the Zandan keep's many gardens, he fought back the urge to tear out his energy sword and hack the nearby shrubs--each one painstakingly nurtured and sculpted into ridiculously complicated patterns and formations--down to size. This entire keep, with its lavishly furnished halls and richly-garbed inhabitants, was one massive monument to needless decadence and yet another symbol of all that Ro'nin had come to despise about his people's culture.

No amount of money, he thought to himself, casting a scornful eye on a pair of females gossiping in an adjacent garden. Should have been worth coming back to this miserable planet.

But the more he reminded himself of that, the more he realized that it was as transparent as the countless displays of wealth and power flaunted everywhere in this keep. Without the Fallen's employ here, he'd be stuck on some backwater colony world working as an enforcer for the Syndicate or some small-time local criminals. For all his practiced disdain for the world he had grown up on, Ro'nin knew that he would never be able to deny his species' innate need to fight real battles against real opponents. And while he was in no way adverse to selling his services to the highest bidder, he was still repulsed by the notion of butchering thugs to help line some drug smuggler's already bulging pockets.

Of course, serving as the attack dog for a bean-counting coward like Cosu was almost equally stomach-turning.

Looking around at the Zandan keep, one might have never guessed that it was a crucial focal point for one of the largest and most successful Fallen operations on the planet. There wasn't a single warrior in sight and, apart from a small practice yard used for practicing swordplay, there was very little in the way of security for the keep at all. Clan members and their servants were everywhere, working in the gardens or performing other activities that struck Ro'nin as too inane for words. He wondered how an entire clan could manage to pull off something as treacherous as making their keep a hub for rebel war parties. It seemed that they all shared Cosu's devious genes along with his name.

The keep was situated on a large hill that was surrounded by farmland. There in the fields the less well-off members of the Sangheili race toiled to bring food to keeps and villages across Sanghelios--and money to the Zandan keep's coffers. While it was true that the plantation workers were assisted by some of the most advanced agricultural equipment in the galaxy they still lived lives of mindless drudgery that Ro'nin didn't envy in the slightest. But at least they did real work for their living. Cosu and his clan just seemed to sit back and make sure that they got all the profit that was their due.

Ro'nin ignored the rest of the clan members and servants and quickened his pace. He wasn't in a hurry to see his paymaster, oh no. He was just anxious to get this tedious meeting over with and get back to his real work.

Cosu's office was a small building located at the center of the garden. Ro'nin was sure that there was a more secure working area indoors but he figured that if Cosu had spent so much to furnish his gardens than he might as well enjoy it as often as possible. He crossed the office's threshold--there was no door--and found himself standing in the Zandan kaidon's work space.

"I do wish you'd wait to enter, mercenary," Cosu commented without looking up. He was seated in a comfortable-looking hover-chair before a desk that seemed to be one massive holo-screen. He declined to use Ro'nin's assumed name, as he always did, but Ro'nin had quickly gotten used to that particular insult. There was no point in nurturing petty annoyances when there was so much more about Cosu that he could despise.

"We're both busy people," Ro'nin noted, burying his disgust under a front of practiced scorn. "I have a war to fight and you have your... finances to contemplate." He lingered over the word finances, hoping that Cosu was at least somewhat aware of how much he despised his profession.

But Cosu did not give Ro'nin the satisfaction of rising to the bait. "Indeed," he replied, giving him a cursory glance before returning his eyes to his desk. "Though I would prefer it if you would leave those warlike trappings of yours back on the battlefield when you come here. I'd hate for rumors to get out that mercenaries such as yourself could gain entrance to this keep."

If Ro'nin had his way, he would never have had to come here at all. A cursory meeting such as this would have been easily handled by a long distance conversation with holograms, but Cosu seemed to enjoy lording it over his underlings. Sometimes Ro'nin wondered if Cosu's fellow Fallen found him quite as repulsive as he did.

He inclined his head in a mocking gesture of deference and removed his helmet. "You'll have to forgive my shabby fashion sense," he said, indicating the battered armor he wore along with the panoply of weapons attached to its surface. "We can't all be as appearance conscious as someone important like you."

Cosu ignored the jab, but Ro'nin knew he was fuming inside. The Fallen commander would have dismissed him ages ago were it not for his prodigious skill on the battlefield. Even someone with as big an ego as Cosu was smart enough to know not to cut someone like Ro'nin loose. He was a fearsome warrior and he was smart enough to lead regular Fallen warriors into combat. He also had a savage reputation that was well-known enough to inspire plenty of fear in the enemy. Such assets were hard to come by. But Ro'nin had long ago promised himself that if the day ever came when Cosu finally decided to terminate his contract that he would make sure to leave a few parting gifts of his own. Potentially lethal ones.

"Why did you kill those farmers yesterday?" Cosu asked, thankfully getting right to the point. "Our cause has enough ugly rumors about it swirling around without you gallivanting around and inciting my warriors to butcher villagers."

Ro'nin bristled at the accusation. It was all too easy for Cosu to play the honorable warrior from his comfortable seat in the keep. He didn't spend his time hiding from government Phantoms and Banshees. And while Ro'nin had no particular love of the Fallen's lofty goals, he did admire their warriors for toughing it out in the wilderness. Those were the Sangheili he didn't mind associating and fighting with.

"We paid them to let us use their fields for shelter," he explained coldly. "They sold us out to the military. Ten of your warriors died because of them."

"It's still no justification for murder," said Cosu primly.

"Would you have preferred we razed their entire village?" Ro'nin had executed the two farmers personally. There was no point in issuing ruthless orders if you didn't have the nerve to carry it out yourself. "That might have set your profit margins back for a little bit. You wouldn't have liked that very much either."

Cosu's mandibles parted in a mixed expression of annoyance and contempt. "I fail to understand your comparison."

"We need to make examples of people who betray us, or they'll keep doing it. We warned them what would happen if they turned on us, then we paid them for their services. They still turned us in. So now they're dead and the price we pay for the use of farm fields has gone up. I don' think there's much incentive to help the military out now."

He saw Cosu's foul little mind ticking away, trying to find something wrong with his logic. If Ro'nin had actually given a damn about whether or not the Fallen got what they wanted, he might have tracked down whoever was above his client in the chain of command and asking why the bean counter was so important. He had a vague idea that Cosu and the Zandans in general were good at tracking down information for the Fallen, but since all he really cared about was staying alive and getting paid, it really didn't matter to him in the slightest.

Unable to fault Ro'nin this time, Cosu gestured at him dismissively. "Just don't do it again."

"If the other farmers stay smart and don't give me a reason to, I won't. Anything else?"

"Keep the warriors on their same patrol and attack patterns. But tell the Ultras to keep those young swordsmen and their friends in line. Those..." he paused here, trying to recall the name.

"The Four Preserving Swords?" Ro'nin suggested. "That body count of theirs just keeps getting bigger, doesn't it?"

"They get too aggressive with their attacks. And they're making a name for themselves with the enemy. If they don't lessen their attacks, they'll be liable to bring the whole Sangheili military down on this area. That 'Refum boy especially..."

Ro'nin snorted, wondering if Cosu had even the slightest idea of how one won wars like this. "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we? Some stray plasma bolts might singe this lovely keep."

Now that got to him. Cosu stood from his chair, parting the long sleeves of his expensive robes and glaring up at Ro'nin with what he must have thought was authoritative anger.

"You overstep yourself, mercenary," he said coldly. "Don't think that you're so valuable that I can't discipline you. And bear in mind that I'm not as merciful as Roni 'Visag."

This was the first time Cosu had ever managed to say anything that actually worried Ro'nin, and he hated the bean counter all the more for it. He shouldn't have been surprised, but it still came as a shock that someone had actually traced him back to his old keep. But he managed to keep his calm and simply smiled at Cosu so as not to show him the fury his remark had kindled within him. "So my secret's out, eh?" he said, fighting the urge to shoot Cosu dead then and there.

"Indeed it is." The smug satisfaction in Cosu's voice killed any kind of authority he might have wielded over Ro'nin with his revalation. He thought he was some kind of great and noble lord, but he was really just a self-important landlord. "I know what kind of sen-rat you are. You killed your own uncle in cold blood on nothing more than a whim. Don't go thinking that you'll ever be fit to talk back to me in my own keep."

Ro'nin needed to leave now before he really did kill Cosu. So he re-donned his helmet and smiled down at his client. "Interesting animals, sen-rats. You ever try keeping one as a pet?"

Cosu's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Of course not. Filthy little animals. Most savage."

"But if you did, and the you didn't feed it, would you be surprised if it bit you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Then feed me well, Cosu." Ro'nin turned to leave. "Feed me well."

4
Field Master Stel 'Vadam looked over at the desert of Sangheilos, his forces in the distant battling the Fallen. Stel was inside the Phantom, sending his men to the east to attack a Fallen base that had been recently discovered by his recon teams. The Phantom pilot called Stel to the pilot seat, showing him that Stel's army had penetrated the massive fortresses' walls, making their way into the monstrosity. Gazing at the tactical map, Stel's mandibles parted into a smirk, knowing that the Fallen base would soon be crushed. He went to the back of the Phantom as the compartment opened up to show a line of Wraiths, ready to fire their plasma cannons at the enemy fortress. Stel gave a single to them, and a few seconds later, they beamed up and fired. As the plasma flew over the sky, it slowly dropped towards the fortress. However, just before the first few charges hit, a sudden blueish aura appeared over the top of the fortress. This meant a shield spire was active inside it. The charges decimated as they hit the barrier, harmlessly. Stel went back up to the pilot seat. "Can you zoom in on the fortress? Things look bad." As the tactical map zoomed in on the monstrosity set up on a desert ridge, he noticed that his forces were being beaten down. As the last of his soldiers fell, Stel's head slowly loomed down, knowing that his army had failed. He looked back up.

"Take us in. Nice and stealthily."

5
Sona 'Demal saw the UNSC aircraft dropping in on Sanghelios. There were being deployed from half a dozen of their battle ships in high orbit. He exchanged glances with Taszar and Zehr'tul, who had also spotted the ships. He turned to look at Autel, who was sitting nearby, staring blankly at the floor. Sona wanted to say something, but didn't know what. He didn't want to see Fira's bloody body sprawled in the medical facility. He resisted the urge to slam his fist into the wall. First the newborns, now this... He had to do something to get his mind off his cousin's precarious condition. Anything.

As if summoned by his thoughts, three Spartans entered the room at that moment. Autel immediately stood up, a sudden glimmer of hope in his eyes.

The lead Spartan greeted him. "Autel," he said.

The albino spoke for the first time in hours. "Thank you for coming."

Sona walked over to them, with Taszar and Zehr'tul behind him. The lead Spartan turned to him. "The Arbiter told me to come here. Are you the kaidon of this keep?"

He nodded. "I am."

"I'm SPARTAN-116. This is SPARTAN-057 and SPARTAN-192." There was something in his voice that suggested something wasn't right. But he didn't say anything other than, "We'd like to have a quick word with all of you before we get into combat."

Sona nodded. "Of course." As Autel and the others followed the Spartans out of the medical facility, he looked back one last time at Fira.

"Rest well, cousin," Sona said quietly. Then he followed with some reluctance.

"So are you going to tell me why Justin was assigned specifically with us, sir?" SPARTAN-192 asked over the private COM.

Felix sighed inwardly. Oscar had a tendency to ask questions at the worst time. His eyes flickered towards SPARTAN-057, the movement invisible to them behind his visor. "I don't know, Warrant Officer," he replied. "And right now isn't the best time to discuss it."

To be honest, he had been caught off guard by the unexpected assignment. As the commanding officer of every Spartan in the UNSC, he had never been placed officially on any teams, and usually worked with a lot of different Spartans. But it looked like someone in ONI was going out of their way to put someone next to him. ''I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Something like this happening was bound to catch ONI's attention. Question is though, what do they want with me? Are they expecting me to do something wrong on this operation?''

Whatever it was, it was obvious why they picked Justin. The Spartan had been frozen in cryo for years after the Human-Covenant war; Felix had never even known about him before yesterday, so Justin could follow orders without feeling doubts while blending in. ''It would look like that to an outsider, at least. But I don't think I'll make it easy for ONI.''

He glanced at Justin again. They had talked briefly before being deployed; the Spartan was a good soldier, and obviously had no idea what was going on any more than Felix did. ''Maybe I can get him on my side. One less thing to worry about.''

They entered one of the Demal keep's rooms; it wasn't large, but there was a rectangular table in the centre with several chairs. There were half a dozen ODSTs and a single Navy officer sitting around it. The Navy officer stood up when the Spartans and Sangheili entered, but Felix waved him down. "We'll talk in here, Lieutenant Simmons. We'll be heading out soon anyway."

"Aye, sir," the Lieutenant sat down again. The four Sangheili took their seats, but Justin and Oscar remained standing by the door. Felix gave Simmons a nod, who stood up as well and walked to the front of the table, so that he could see everyone.

"Now," the officer said. "We understand that the Sangheili has recently engaged in open warfare against the Fallen. As per the Interspecies Union, article 3, the UNSC has called us here to provide assistance. And given recent developments, namely the abduction of Sangheili newborns, we have decided to take greater measures in terms of retaliation; not necessarily with firepower, but tactical-wise, the current UNSC commanding officer has implimented a strategy..."

6
Chen got on the Pelicans rear mounted Heavy Machine Gun, the minutes the door fully lowered, he let loose a torrent of 12.7 rounds onto the unsuspecting Sangheili below, the apparent leader got a majority of the rounds, easily overloading his shields and then searing into the alien's flesh. After the death of their leader, the squad of Fallen rushed to find cover, some didn't even get close to their destination.

"Go! I'll cover you!!" Chen yelled as he suppressed the enemy. Sonia gave him a worried look.

"Are you crazy?! There has to be at least three dozen bat-shit crazy Elites down there!! If I'm going your coming with me!" Sonia replied over the sound of bullets hitting the ground.

"Boss-man's orders, don't worry, it ain't so bad, I'm sure we've seen worse." Chen said with a slight smirk. Sonia sighed as she hopped out of the transport. Chen continued to provide fire support, downing enemy shields while Sonia got close enough to deal the killing blow.

Ryu landed the pelican behind the rock spires and rejoined the rest of his team.

"Area's secure, anything else, boss-man?" Chen asked.

"Any allied Elites should be held up in the keep, linking up with them should be our best bet at liberating it" Ryu ordered. Chen nodded and readied his LASER in response.

"Where's Sonia?" Ryu inquired. A Sangheili, wearing the armor of a Zealot emerged inches behind Ryu. A trio of shotgun blasts were heard behind him. The Zealot froze and a second later hit the dirt dead.

"You owe me for that" Sonia said, slightly out of breath. War does not determine who is right, only who is left 21:33, May 25, 2011 (UTC)

7
Rear Admiral Longstreet was snoozing in his office. He found it kinda funny that out of everyone he told to get some sleep

8
It was only after Jake and Ralph had been kitted and airlifted to the ship that would take them to wherever the hell they were headed--a light frigate called the Nelson's Pride--that they were directed to a small briefing room and introduced to their latest handler.

He was an ONI man, and Ralph hated him on sight.

Ralph's own stubborn prejudices about dealing with non-Spartans aside, he had always disliked the intelligence officers who assigned and directed the missions he and his brother and sister Spartans carried out. They were always so intrusive, managing to know things about you that they should never have been privy too while betraying next to nothing about themselves. And plenty of them had the nerve to assign you next to impossible missions, sit the assignment out from the safety of a command center, and then have the nerve to nitpick when the job wasn't done as perfectly as they would have liked. Not that he minded difficult and risky assignments, but as far as Ralph was concerned, if you weren't out there in the field taking the risks than you didn't have the right to complain about it.

To make matters worse, the man was strikingly handsome. Even with a head of hair that had gone gray far before its time, his face had a smooth, almost feminine quality to it. The hair itself had bangs that fell down either side of his head, framing that elegant face in a style that was definitely against regulations but one that an intelligence officer could probably get away with. The only blemish that Ralph could see was a thin scar that ran down the left side of his face and ended at the edge of his left eyebrow, but it was just as likely to have come from surgery as to have come from a combat injury.

Maybe the surgery was to give him those good looks, Ralph thought scornfully. He hoped that this would be one of the officers who just pointed them at the target and let them go from there. He wasn't sure he could handle having to deal with this guy at all times in the field.

But he still wore the insignia of a commander and that still carried weight, even with Spartan Headhunters. Both Jake and Ralph came to attention and brought their armored hands up to their helmets in a salute, though Ralph's was slower to come up and lasted for only a few seconds before he released it.

"Yuri Rosch," the officer said by way of introduction. "Section three."

He indicated the empty metal chairs that faced the glowing briefing screen. "Take a seat and we'll get going."

He spoke in a clipped, formal tone, his eyes--like the eyes of of all ONI agents--hard and unfeeling.

The two Spartans complied, settling their Semi Powered Infiltration armored frames into the chairs. Most Spartans would have also taken this as a cue to remove their helmets as well, but Jake and Ralph preferred to keep theirs on. It was a private gesture that set them apart from outsiders and allowed them to exchange comments in private. They had lost so much over the years that they weren't about to sacrifice their last remaining bond just to make some ONI spook feel more comfortable.

If Rosch noticed the snub, then he didn't show it. Instead, he lifted a small remote and brought several lines of text scrolling up onto the screen behind him. Ralph didn't even bother to read it; it was all just a bunch of ONI bullshit about "eyes only" and "sensitive information."

"Headhunter Team Mu," Rosch began, and Ralph curled his lip in distaste. He and Jake would always consider themselves to be Team Jian, their original squad name, but ONI had discarded that title after they'd gone through the extra headhunter training and given them that personality-free designation instead.

"You are hereby placed under my direct command until further notice," Rosch continued. "You will report directly to me and keep all information that I give you to yourselves unless instructed to do otherwise. Is that clear?"

"Sir," Jake and Ralph chanted in practiced unison. "Yes, sir."

Rosch nodded and his cold demeanor seemed to lessen, if only by a fraction. "If we have that understood, then we can get to the real business. Have either of you been informed of our destination?"

"Sir," said Jake, speaking for them both. "No sir."

Pressing a button on the remote, Rosch indicated the screen as the image of a large, red-tinged planet swam into view. Blue lakes and oceans dotted its surface, sitting in stark contrast with the clay-colored land masses.

"This is Sanghelios," Rosch explained. "Homeworld of the Sangheili."

Ralph felt his breath catch in his throat. "We're going there?" he asked sharply. "Is it war?"

Rosch raised an eyebrow but didn't mention Ralph's breach of protocol. Jake, however, tilted his helmet ever so slightly and moved his hand a centimeter towards Ralph's. The gesture might have been inscrutable to an outsider, but to a Spartan like Ralph it was clear: Watch it.

"No," replied Rosch, but there was a faint twinge of something that might have been called disappointment in his voice. "The aliens remain our allies. However, a task force was formed less than a day ago with the intention of providing military aid for their standing government against the separatist movement known as the Fallen. I trust you know who they are?"

Jake and Ralph nodded. The political goings-on of other species was now a sizable component of the regular briefings they were given on current events.

"Any questions on the culture of the species we're dealing with here?"

Neither of them said anything. That had been another critical part of their post-war education.

But something had kindled Ralph's interest and he raised a casual arm. Through the private communication channel within their helmets, Jake muttered, "Ralph, don't say anything stupid..."

Ignoring Jake, Ralph too Rosch's appraising expression as a cue to speak. "Sorry, sir, I think I misheard you. We're going to go in and help the Elites?"

Most commanders would have reprimanded him for using the slang for the warrior species used during the war, but Rosch didn't so much as cock an eyebrow. Ralph's respect for the man rose slightly. He'd seen too many friends die at the Elites' hands to ever be able to refer to them by their "appropriate" name.

"That is exactly the task force's intent," replied Rosch. "I thought you might have caught wind up the operation, seeing as a large portion of the task force consists of Spartan operatives."

The two headhunters exchanged a sidelong glance that was made expressionless by their helmets. Jake turned back to the commander. "We don't talk to the others much, sir."

That, thought Ralph, was the understatement of the century. The two Jian survivors had had next to no contact with their fellows since the operation at the Actenia asteroid field. That was when Cassandra had gone missing... and the fact that Simon-G294 had become a traitor was revealed. The fact that the traitor had come from Jake's team--coupled with Jake's own defeat at Simon's hands--had been seen as unforgivable by many of their SPARTAN-III comrades and he and Ralph had become the Spartan equivalent of social outcasts. Sometimes Ralph didn't know who to be more angry at: Simon or the other Spartans.

Rosch shrugged. "That may be the task force's objective, but it isn't ours."

Now it was Jake's turn to voice his confusion. "Than what is our objective, sir?"

Rosch thumbed the remote. "Allow me to introduce you to Operation: Stratego," he said as the name scrolled across Sanghelios's red surface. "At this point I'm obligated to remind you that none of what we say here must ever leave this room unless I deem it necessary. As far as the three of us are concerned, this briefing never happened."

So this was a black operation. "That explains why they waited to brief us for so long," Ralph muttered into the private channel.

Jake didn't respond and instead addressed Rosch. "What's our alibi here, sir?"

Rosch nodded approvingly. "Officially, the two of you are being taken to Sanghelios to join the other Spartans in the task force," he said. "But if all goes well, neither of you will ever make contact with them."

He clicked the remote, bringing the image of an unarmored Elite onto the screen. He was shorter than what Ralph was used to with Elites and wore what looked like a set of elaborate robes.

"Cosu 'Zandan," Rosch explained. "Kaidon and clan leader of the Zandan keep. If this op were attached to the regular task force, we have reason to believe that he's a fairly high ranking Fallen commander. However, there's no solid evidence to support that and from what our intelligence sources tell us, the Elite military has already decided that he has nothing to do with the movement. Officially, he's just a very wealthy clan leader who just happens to have one of the highest levels of Fallen activity in his territory."

He shrugged again. "But that isn't our concern. What we're after is the Syndicate."

Ralph knew exactly what Rosch was talking about. The Syndicate was a massive criminal organization that had sprang into underworld prominence after the war, dominating every aspect of the illegal markets, from drug smuggling to arms dealing. The local governments had long since given up trying to put it down and in some areas ONI was classifying it alongside Insurrectionist groups. Any opportunity to stymy the Syndicate would be seized by any one of ONI's divisions.

"Let me guess," he said shrewdly, smirking behind his helmet at Jake's exasperated sigh. "This Cosu guy's working for the Syndicate and the rebels, right?"

"Precisely," said Rosch. All of Ralph's usual barbs were failing to phase him in the slightest; perhaps there was more to him than Ralph had first guessed. "If the Elite government uncovers his treachery, they'll most likely interrogate him about the Fallen and then have him executed. We'll never learn anything about the Syndicate if they get to him, so it's your job to gain entry to his keep and abduct him."

A live retrieval op in an area that was probably crawling with hostiles where there'd be no chance of blending into the civilian population and a very good chance that the legitimate Elite government would be none too pleased to find human commandos legging it through the countryside in the hopes of abducting one of their own. There weren't enough contingency plans in the universe to cover the amount of things that could go wrong, and Ralph relished the idea of it.

"You'll be provided maps of the operational area," Roch continued. "You'll be issued with plasma-based weaponry as well. No UNSC-manufactured equipment outside of your armor will be provided. If you are detected or captured by the government, no attempt to rescue you will be made. At best, we'll call the two of you rogues and have you retrieved by out authorities, at worst, they'll decide to try you themselves and then no one can say what'll happen to you."

Ralph nodded approvingly, but Jake was still concerned. "Sir, this will most likely bring us into contact with civilians as well as Fallen. What's the protocol for dealing with noncombatants?"

"Avoid civilian casualties if possible," replied Rosch, but he didn't seem too concerned with the idea of a few dead Sangheili civilians. "But remember that capturing Cosu is a top priority. Don't let anything get in the way of that objective."

"Even if it means compromising secrecy, sir?" Jake asked cautiously, clearly less enthusiastic about the mission than Ralph was.

It took Rosch several seconds to respond. Finally, he nodded. "Off the record," he said, his tone less formal. "I'll tell you right now that anything goes if it means getting Cosu in alive. The information we could get from him could save countless human lives from both the Syndicate and the Insurrectionists who benefit from its activities. If a few alien civilians need to die for that, then that's a price I'm more than willing to pay."

It seemed that, despite his first impressions, Rosch was Ralph's kind of officer after all. He reached up and removed his helmet, showing the officer his face. "Looking forward to this, sir," he said with a sincerity that he couldn't remember using with any other non-Spartan officer. "We won't let you down."

Rosch nodded. "I've seen your records. Team Mu has a one hundred percent mission completion record, and I'm sure you won't let this op destroy your record."

At the sound of the hated team name, Ralph grimaced again. This time, Rosch was able to see the expression.

"Something bothering you?" he asked.

Surprisingly, it was Jake who broke into the conversation just then. "It's the name, sir," he said, removing his own helmet. "We've always hated it."

The commander raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" he said, though there was no trace of a reprimand in his tone. "Which do you prefer?"

"Jian," the Headhunters said in unison. They looked at each other and allowed themselves a sheepish grin.

"It was our original team name, sir," Jake admitted to Rosch. "We've always missed having it."

Ralph could have been imagining things, but he thought he saw the barest hint of a smile flicker across the officer's face.

"I can arrange for your team name to be changed back to that," he said after a moment of thought. "The logistics men won't like it, but they've always made allowances for special forces."

He shook his head and saluted them. "Good luck, Team Jian. I'll see you both on the other side."