Hi, welcome to Halo Fanon!Please log in to edit this wiki.Joining Wikia is free, and it only takes a minute.We hope that you sign in, and become a member of the community!Click here to join this wiki You can view and copy the source of this page. ==='''Chapter Three: Aftershock'''=== :<big><u>'''Andra'''</u></big> :'''0632 Hours, 31 October 2558''' :'''UNSC Flagship ''Infinity''''' :'''Location Unknown''' Andra's world abruptly shattered into a million pieces, involving much pain and confusion. Unknowable forces, dubbed 'gravity waves' on a whim, yanked and twisted at the very fabric of reality. Her breath and scream became throat locked as every nerve in her body buzzed in pain. The female Spartan could do nothing but clench her muscles and grit her teeth as she listened, hopelessly, for a sign of her best friend in good health. Her radio's static eventually died down as the gravity waves subsided into nothing, leaving behind a dull ache and a roar in her ears. Automated systems aboard the UNSC ''Black Caviar'' readjusted, cutting through a soup of radiation to reach Andra's ears. The confounded whispers of the ship's bridge crew unsettled her as she listened close. "What-what happened?" "Where's the station?" "It's just gone… So is that Forerunner thing…" "It jumped to Slipspace, where did it go? Hell, where did it come from?" "No clue, our sensors aren't picking up a trail at all." Heat burned in Andra's cheeks as a bubble of air remained, trapped in her chest. The confusion from the radio was the final straw. Keeling over slightly, she sputtered and coughed up her lungs as saliva poured from her lips, covering her helmet visor's interior. Finally breathing, she huffed several times, eating away at her suit's limited oxygen supply until she felt composed to ask, "Merlin? Where's Merlin?" No one answered; the noise of a murmuring-shaken crew continued to carry over the radio waves. Andra's shaking, armored hands rose to chest height before pressing against the metal door of her escape pod. It was compact, tight like a coffin. She could do nothing but wait in agonizing silence, trapped with only her echoing thoughts. What was happening outside? Where was Merlin? Was he safe? Was Andra herself safe? A figurative forever passed for Andra, uncounted. She didn't bother checking her mission clock, it would only add to her heightened anxiety. Her escape pod jostled in a violent manner, abruptly, as it encountered something sturdy outside. Her eyes darted for another eternity in the darkness, uncertain. Mechanized noises rattled off somewhere in the distance. While Andra wasn't hearing much of note over her occasional radio checks, it seemed they were reeling her in. As blood drifted in the opposing direction, she took some comfort in knowing she was safe and only hoped her fears remained unfounded. Her body shivered from many things, particularly anticipation. "We got her. Breaking the seal…" A male voice announced over the radio as a series of metallic noises occurred against the surface of the escape pod, outside the occupant's view. The latched door on the pod finally opened, exposing the armored, injured supersoldier inside. "Hey Spartan. Welcome back." Andra blinked at the glaring overhead lights that dotted the UNSC ''Black Caviar's'' cargo hangar, situated in the ship's protected underbelly. While not big enough for an aircraft combat wing, it was spacious enough for Andra's escape pod, the attending ONI Security team, lots of secured cargo, and an approaching Navy medical team. It took the disoriented, shivering Spartan a moment to adjust to her surroundings, particularly the return of stable gravity. Upon examination, Andra's armor appeared intact, however, small puncture pockets revealed exposed skin and grievous injuries beneath her MJOLNIR tech suit. A fine film of blood glinted between the gaps of her armor weave. The wounded girl blabbered at the gaggle of military personnel surrounding her in frantic haste, jacking diagnostic machines into her suit. "Has anyone seen Merlin? Is he okay?" Her vision swam beneath her visor, responding to her growing blood loss. Knowing of her developing, excitable state, a corpsman directed a pair of ONI Security specialists in exoskeletal power armor to seize her arms and hold down her legs. Even so, the corpsman attempted to coax Andra into calm, "Hey. Hey, calm down there. D-Oh-Five-Four, Andra. You've been hurt. We need you to breathe and relax so we can get diagnostics." "Where's Merlin?" Andra growled, her eyes narrowing behind her ODST-style helmet. She made to lift her arms, intent on pulling off her skull-bucket and yelling at the medical professional but met stiff resistance from the ONI Security contractors. The groaning of metal against metal was enough to scare the talkative corpsman and he turned to another nurse, whispering something out of earshot. A black cylindrical device, dimensionally similar to a hockey puck, traded hands. Recognizing it as an armor-restraint device, Andra squirmed more with little success, producing only groaning gasps from her restrainers as they tensed their grips to compensate for the Spartan's escape attempts. The restraining device stuck to her chest and none of Andra's last-second cybersecurity measures proved fruitful to prevent lock-up. The device bypassed her security apparatus through her suit's established VISR system BIOS and seized control, transforming Andra into little more than an angry-tongued mannequin. Satisfied with his own precautions, the Navy corpsman gestured for the ONI Security folk to let her go. He finally answered the girl's question, once trapped behind a sealed suit – unable to voice her obscenities against him. "We don't know where Merlin-D032 is. The station is gone, Petty Officer. Shot off into Slipspace – we think your teammate was still aboard," the Navy corpsman whose face Andra couldn't even make out paused for a moment. "I'm sorry." "No," Andra protested, more so to herself than anyone else. "No-no-no-no-no…" Her muscles tensed aggressively once again but she could do nothing but whimper alone, isolated in her armor-turned-prison. Hot tears welled up and slipped down her red, puffy cheeks. Not since training nor since childhood had she felt such raw terror and fear; the sensation of losing her only loved one left in the world. Not since her father commits suicide, had she cried like this. Lost in her grieving rage, she missed the corpsman's dulled words, ordering for a sedative. The needle slipped through a point in her neck guard and the rest of her senses became putty. Andra whispered Merlin's name one last time as her eyelids drooped into a buzzed, black abyss and her mind descended into oblivion. <center>'''. . .'''</center> That incident was two-three days ago. Groaning awake, Andra's eyelids rolled open as she flipped over in a futile attempt to crawl out of bed. She ended up on her stomach as her eyes darted about in perpetual darkness, looking for her frustrating saviors. No one was around. Again. She rose with a shaky, sore start, wincing as tender abdominal muscles and skin, still fresh from reconstructive surgery, flexed at precarious angles. In addition, there was that radiating heat in her intestines from post-scarring nanomachine therapy. Andra's injuries proved more severe following physical trauma from shrapnel fragmentation and then that strange 'gravity waves' phenomenon. She spent four hours visiting the ''Black Caviar's'' medical clinic and another six in the UNSC ''Infinity's'' intensive care unit. Recovery was slow, now entering its second, figurative morning aboard the UNSC ''Infinity''. She spent the first day heavily medicated. Sitting up on her wardroom bed, Andra's mind shuffled through the last snippets of information she could piece together, most provided by an overworked, female health technician from the UNSC Spartan Branch. Operation: RUNIT DOME was over, its first phase a failure – the Wealthian Coalition research station was gone. The evidence of a superweapon was gone. Merlin was gone. They failed. Andra tried to hold back tears but failed as new droplets raced down her cheeks. A hiccup followed and then a series of choked, quiet sobs as her emotional walls collapsed from her friend's 'disappearance'. She couldn't bring herself to think the worst. She turned to other things, more pressing matters if the gossip was to be trusted. Created. They stepped up in the galaxy quickly, born from the ranks of Humanity's rebellious Smart AI, and in a decisive move, crippled the UNSC, its allies, and every major political player in known space. Led by a prominent Covenant War-era AI named Cortana, she and other allied AIs dismantled the entirety of the Unified Earth Government's communication networks and infrastructure. All in a day's work with the support of endless legions of ancient Forerunner combat drones. Apparently, their ultimate goal was the establishment of an ever-expansive galactic empire with themselves at the top. Between the tears, Andra could only mumble "shit" in recognition of how truly damned she was. She rubbed her eyes, wiping away any gunk or grime built up there, however, the very thought of tears only encouraged continuous precipitation. Merlin's disappearance meant she was now well and truly alone in the galaxy. Her father killed himself. Her father figure was gone. Ferret Team Boson, her family, was fragmented. Merlin, her best friend, was…disappeared. Andra shook her head, tossing locks of shoulder-length brown hair into her vision. She grimaced, blowing strands out of her eyes with little success. She secured the wild mane and threw it over her left shoulder. Busy work; she needed to occupy herself. Away from her downer thoughts – she looked at the unoccupied bed across from her own. The one intended for Merlin. Andra crawled out from beneath her twisted blanket and swiftly spun about-face as her bare feet touched the cold metal floor. She jumped a little in surprise but composed herself enough to assess her mess before brutishly yanking the bedding away: bedsheets, blanket, pillow, everything. Anything to look away from that vacant bed. She dried her tears and went to work in silence; first dragging the two bedding sheets, clinical-white in color, atop the mattress and one another. Once satisfied that each side wrapped securely over each end of the bed with a hand-sized width, she folded away from the loose fabric on the wall side. She went to work on the edges next, forming the magical triangle known as a hospital corner on the pillow-side before folding the leftover fabric material under the mattress, out of sight. She repeated the process at the feet-side, throwing her blanket over top and performing several folds until the blanket reached about chest distance. A hospital corner later and the feet-end looked as sharp. Again, Andra pushed any loose fabrics under the bed. Fluffing her pillow, the Spartan girl lightly placed the headrest in the appropriate place and backed up to admire her work. She immediately frowned upon sighting her slanted blanket top where the folds, once thought straight, forming a slanted angle. Andra groaned in annoyance and proceeded to rip the entire ensemble off the mattress after a moment's hesitation. She went about it again from the beginning. The Spartan groaned again, noting she added five extra centimeters of fabric on the pillow-side of the bed. She ripped it apart, again. She repeated the routine. Andra groaned, feeling something was wrong but this time, though indistinguishable. She simply went and disassembled her work. She lost count after that, the number of times she made the bed only to destroy it repeatedly. Behind the simplicity of the chore, Andra became embroiled in a perfect storm of frustration and a compulsory need for perfection – the latter quality being unusual for her character. "Spartan-D054. I think your bed was satisfactory the first time; you could have corrected the angle with a yank of the cover sheet." Andra bristled at the humorous but authoritative voice behind her. She snapped around but backpedaled in minor shock upon making eye contact. A transparent, golden-hued World War Two British fighter pilot leaned on one hip, cross-armed while looking over the teenager in front of him. Overhead, a ceiling project maintained the Smart AI's form, standing only a couple of inches short of Andra's own five-foot-nine stature. "Roland," Andra greeted, her voice hitching with surprise and suspicion at the AI's appearance. "What-what are you doing in my room?" "Analyzing your mental health it seems." "I don't need your analysis." "Well, you certainly seem distressed from what I can tell." "I am not." "Says the Petty Officer remaking their bed, ten times over." "How long have you been watching me?" "I'm always watching Spartan; I just prioritized your room after you started acting like a lunatic." Andra took a moment to compose herself, only then realizing she jumped atop her bed and squashed her carefully constructed masterpiece. "Not again…" she mumbled. "There's no one coming to tell you to maintain your sleeping quarters, Spartan. You shouldn't worry about it." "It-I-what? That's not why I'm doing it." Andra sputtered, not sure how to talk to the golden projection occupying her private space. "Then why are you doing it?" Roland asked, looking over the Spartan with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know? I made mistakes I needed to correct, I guess. My curse as a sniper – always focused on the small details." Andra shrugged. The golden Smart AI looked away from Andra's puffy-cheeked face, glancing at the bed beneath her and then the bed behind him. He gently shrugged as if made aware of an unspoken secret. "Right, okay." "Roland, what do you want?" Andra asked, giving him a distrustful stink eye look. She really wanted him to leave but AIs didn't make their presence known without reason, as far as Andra was aware. The golden AI straightened but kept his arms crossed. "VIOLET-III Actual is finalizing the last documentation regarding your recent operation; he's requested you show for final proceedings. Though, he did add that he understands if you don't feel like going." "Proceedings? I guess you mean a boarding meeting?" Andra asked, turning away from Roland to glance over her messy bed again. "Indeed. Its two decks up in the Spartan Ops Logistics hall, a brisk walk from here I would assume." "Do I have a choice?" "Yes. That is why he said he understood if you didn't feel like going." Roland deadpanned. Andra turned from Roland and began pulling the sheets away from her bed to remake it once again. After a moment or two of awkward silence, she responded with a dissatisfying, "I'll need some time to consider." "I got to tell him something, the meeting starts in twenty minutes. And you would be doing more for yourself if you actually went," Roland's tone changed from exasperation to a somber whisper, "Not staying here doing whatever it is you're doing." "I just need a minute!" Andra snapped at the artificial intelligence without turning her head. "Fine, Spartan, I'll be back when you finish the bed. And only then," The golden Smart AI winked out of existence leaving Andra alone to some degree. Turning, Andra sighed and released her muscles' negative tension. She went back to her bed and sped through the chore, finally overcoming her compulsion for the sake of urgency. She knew Roland was right, and the request from her superior officer was a pleasant change of pace. She straightened the bed's edges as best she could and performed a cursory final check that might have satisfied her SPARTAN-III Delta Company drill instructors in the early days. With a nod of meager satisfaction, she glanced back to Merlin's intended bunk and stared. Feeling clammy, she jogged into the attached lavatory space and went about her morning routine to freshen up with a shower and a teeth-brushing. She ignored the soft chime and hum of Roland reentering her wardroom next door. Upon exiting, she greeted the golden AI with a simple "I'm going." Rummaging through the bedside trunk full of her only personal belongings, Andra sought through the folded clothing items for some appropriate attire. Roland continued behind her, "Good to hear, I'll let the Lieutenant Commander know. As well – I think your bed is very sharp. Good work." Andra paused, frowning at the comment and paid a shoulder-glance to Roland. "What are you trying to say?" "I'm just complimenting your work." She rolled her eyes at that. Maybe Roland was patronizing her, or maybe, he was being honest. She could care less at this point – the last few days had been too much for her. Moreover, her trust for AI was in short supply, shorter than usual. For now, the golden one had her trust. "Roland? Is there any requirement for me to follow Navy uniform regulation today?" "I would imagine your Spartan tech suit and some pants would suffice. And maybe do something with your hair." Andra groaned at that, "I have less than ten minutes, I don't think I got time for that... Can I just dress civvie today? I don't think anyone would bother me as long as I don't go anywhere questionable?" "We do have some refugees aboard, I don't see anything wrong with that I guess. Might make your day little harder if anyone stops you." "It's already hard enough for most people to believe I'm a Spartan. I'm twelve years old, Earth-side." Roland nodded in thought. "You've got a point there. You're not exactly the military-looking type either." "Roland…" Andra growled out dangerously. "Yeah, yeah, I'll leave you be. I already sent the Lieutenant Commander your affirmation." "I'm just going to go casual today. I-I don't feel comfortable in uniform right now." "You look better than you did five minutes ago, looks like the shower helped," Roland commented as his hologram faded from existence. His voice carried over the room's intercom, "They really let you go when you were part of that Ferret unit, didn't they?" "Something like that," Andra whispered back, taking the AI's lacking response to her wardrobe choice as acceptance. Andra exited her sleeping quarters five minutes later, joining the bustling medical hallway full of medical personnel, injured people, and the occasional UNSC Marine. Dressed in her preferred jeans, tee shirt, and green overcoat, she threw up her jacket hood to hide her tired expression and began her trek to the post-operation meeting. She paid no mind to the wayward glances from military personnel; she knew she stuck out amongst their lot, colored in uniforms of black, gray and white. No one stopped the female Spartan as she exited the medical sector and weaved between interconnecting traffic through the expansive supply-transit passage that doubled as an observation deck for the medical-side vehicle hangar. Marine and Army units were performing stretches and prepping for some ship-wide PT run along soft-surface tracks that raced through the entire supercarrier. Mechanics and pilots performed diagnostic drills and maintenance on vehicles and aircraft. The majority of the hangar space was dedicated to transportation aircraft: D79 and D77-type Pelicans, D96 Albatross, and D81 Condors. None of the aircraft moved or hovered, it seemed the no-fly order for all UNSC vehicles was still in effect, the UNSC was on the run and so was the UNSC ''Infinity''. Thus, few vehicles were active and current deployments slowed to a trickle. "Make way, coming through!" Andra shoulder-checked behind her where the yelling voice originated. A group of Marines and SPARTAN-IVs in their duty uniforms pushed their way through the hallway traffic, paying little mind to those they shoved past. Andra felt herself pushed aside lightly as the cluster of infantry cut a path through the slower-moving clumps of medical specialists and patrolling military personnel. "Sorry kid, excuse us!" One Marine shouted at Andra as he zoomed by. A Navy corpsman called to the group as they passed, "What's the rush?" "The Master Chief and someone from Spartan Blue Team is in the food court!" "Oh shit, I'm coming too!" A few people stopped in their meandering and moved to join the group as they rushed by. Andra watched them go, "The Master Chief, huh?" "Why not go with them?" Andra didn't glance at the speaker, though she assumed they were addressing her. "I got a place to be." "Maybe you should come with me then." The hooded girl spun around, making eye contact with Lieutenant Commander Derek Frendsen with a booklet of papers cradled in one arm. "Su-Sir!" Andra stammered out, snapping to attention with fists at her sides and her feet forming a rigid right angle. Her face turned white as the blood left her cheeks. "Hey there Andra. How are you feeling?" The Lieutenant Commander asked through a soft smile and tired, dark eyes. He ignored the further weird looks he and his Spartan subordinate were receiving from the other military personnel passing by them, much to Andra's unspoken appreciation – he didn't make it weird. "I'm good…yeah, I'm good." Andra shuffled her feet meekly but kept her parade stance, uncertain of how to behave herself around her direct superior officer. Frendsen could be amicable but he toed a careful line that Andra struggled with anticipating. Frendsen paused at the uncertainty in her voice and tilted his head. He took his time, glancing around at the other military personnel around him before looking back at his subordinate. "Come on; let's get up to S-Deck. We can talk about things on the way." Andra glanced up at the officer and nodded silently, taking a step toward him, however, she slowed upon looking back over the vehicle hangar and the darkness of deep space beyond the shielded hangar doors. That was where Merlin was, maybe… She felt lost. "Hey, Andra?" Frendsen gestured to her with an open palm, "We got a meeting in a few." "Yeah, I'm coming." She finally said after taking in the dark expanse. She turned to follow the man, walking side by side with Frendsen and felt mildly disappointed after performing a quick comparison between him and herself. She was shorter than Frendsen by a couple of inches at most; however, she received augmentations and genetic accelerants as a toddler and still stood under him. She didn't look like an intimidating Spartan, more like a daughter Frendsen could dote upon. The duo marched until they reached a large cargo elevator and stepped in alongside forty-something more people and dozens of boxes and machinery traveling throughout the UNSC ''Infinity's'' many decks. "Going up to S-Deck," Frendsen called to an elevator operator off to the side. "Priority?" The elevator operator called, recognizing the rank and organization Frendsen represented. "Priority." The Lieutenant Commander confirmed. The cargo elevator zoomed upward after that. It was another minute before Andra and Frendsen stepped into the halls of the Spartan Operations deck, better known as 'S-Deck' and sometimes 'Spartan Town'. Andra preferred neither. She and Frendsen didn't talk much either. Before stepping into view of the door-operating cameras guarding the conference room beyond, Frendsen directed his youthful subordinate to the side. "Do you want to talk about what happened the day before?" The naval officer reiterated. "Out here or in there?" "Both." Frendsen clarified sternly, his eyes narrowed in concentration with rare, personal concern. "In there. I'd rather let the tears fly after I've been battered by the interrogators." Andra joked humorlessly at her own expense. "I'm not going to order you to; you have a choice." "I'll do it," Andra responded firmly. She came this far, might as well knock it out. "They just need you to clarify over a few things; anything maybe missed in Lieutenant Commander Stenbeck's report and not accounted for from your helmet recorder." "Understood," Andra stated emotionlessly, glaring into Frendsen's eyes with panicked determination. "Alright. Then let's do it." The Lieutenant Commander stepped forward first and the sliding doors parted at his advance. Andra followed, only a footfall behind. The meeting that followed involved a lot of talking about logistics and circumstances that Andra chose to let fly in one ear and out the other. It didn't really pertain to her at the moment; instead, she spent the time pseudo-meditating, attempting to keep herself from collapsing into a teary-eyed mess. Amongst the round table of gray-uniformed naval officers from the Office of Naval Intelligence, there were faces Andra recognized. Lieutenant Commander Derek Frendsen. Better known as VIOLET-III Actual, commander of a renowned pair of SPARTAN-III Gamma Company Headhunter units – the same ones that previously mentored Andra and her own unit. Andra's direct superior as of late and an often-distant though studious commander with a rather perplexing fondness for paper documents and media. Lieutenant Commander Vilda Stenbeck. Andra's temporary mission handler during the RUNIT DOME operation. A two-sided coin; sometimes she was friendly and soft-spoken and other times she was aggressive and blatantly manipulative, at least according to Frendsen. Apparently, she ran a tight ship regarding her own SPARTAN-III Ferret unit, whoever they were. Lieutenant Commander Ryder Kedar. A tallish SPARTAN-IV operator that somehow looked better in a suit than armor. Andra didn't personally know much about him but she heard he was something of a child prodigy before joining the Armed Forces. He towered over Andra and in some ways, beyond his pretty boy-physique, intimidated her with that smug tilt of his lips. He looked like he could back up his spy-craft bullshit at the very least. Apparently, there were many ONI-employed Lieutenant Commanders aboard the UNSC ''Infinity'' today. After a while of deliberation, someone finally called for her presence. "D-Oh-Fifty-Four?" She didn't respond at first, the Spartan girl was still languishing in her own world of hurt. It took another request, "Andra?" and a light tap on the shoulder to pull her from the stupor. "Hu-huh?" "Andra, would you mind speaking on the events leading up to RUNIT DOME's failure?" Ryder Kedar called from across the table while Stenbeck's hand softly grasped Andra's shoulder based on the previous tap. "Uh-yes, of course," Andra briskly stated, blinking a bit to compose herself and lightly pushed Stenbeck's hand from her shoulder. "I can talk about it." "Proceed from wherever you feel is relevant," Kedar ordered with a seemingly encouraging tone. On Kedar's right side, Frendsen gave Andra a subtle nod before deep-diving back into the pile of papers strewn out in front of him whereas the other ONI officers had nothing or the occasional holographic tablet. At the center of the conference table, Roland stood attentively but as his traditional water bottle-sized hologram, the one Andra favored. Everyone looked at Andra expectantly but with degrees of encouragement, it seemed they were at least aware that this would be hard on her. Sensing a tongue twister coming on, Andra thought back to what Merlin used to say about giving mission reports; he used to do them for their Ferret Unit a lot. "It's always easier to start from the beginning, let the officer direct you where to go after that." "Well, we were put aboard the UNSC ''Black Caviar'' at the beginning of the month, transitioning from here to the Corvette. After that, we made a stop at Earth to pick up Lieutenant Commander Stenbeck. Then we parked ourselves in the orbital proximity of…" Andra's words slipped into silence based on the frowns Kedar and Stenbeck were giving her. "Tell us about your phase of the operation, anything relevant. We don't need to hear about anything beyond that." Kedar expanded as he placed an impatient arm atop the table. Hurry up, Andra got the message. Therefore, Andra spoke on that. Only for Kedar to stop her repeatedly to hurry up her report. It was infuriating but at least he was cutting through it quickly and making Andra's job easier, sort of. She wasn't crying at the very least. "Merlin protected me when the Wealthian fireteam pinned us in the enemy's combat information center. Between the gravity waves and the collapsing structures of Test Station ''Tsiolkovsky'', I think that's what they called it; there was little maneuvering room and even after, he managed to stop the gunfire with a hard light shield…" "And the injury?" "Frag grenade, one of the few we failed to stop before cooking off. It made it past the hard light and detonated between us... I-I jumped on it. Those gravity waves made it worse." A quiet carried over the room as the audience processed the information. "What then? What happened to Merlin?" Kedar asked, reaching the point that chilled her blood and bones. "We managed to eliminate the rest of the fireteam but at the cost of several of the Wealthian researchers. Merlin carried on with the mission; at least, I think he did. He plugged our AI into an available mainframe and took it out once he figured…whatever. He carried me to an escape pod and sent me on my way." Andra paused to think over the things that followed. "I think he was going after the lead researcher; I did see something though before he set off the escape pod." "What was it?" Kedar asked. "Giant metalhead, pretty angular in shape. Kind of looked Forerunner in design? Had a pair of glowing eyes, and many teeth. Tore the station to shreds." Lieutenant Commander Stenbeck turned to the other wall, gesturing for Roland to perform his digital magic. With a flicker of his holographic avatar, Roland pushed an image onto the projector at the far side of the room. "You can confirm this is what you saw?" The female ONI officer asked. Andra's blood chilled even further and the blood escaped her face once again. Pure nightmare fuel. "Yes, yes it is." The image was grainy but Andra immediately recognized it because they took it directly from her helmet camera footage. Shiny, metallic, glowing a fluorescent blue. An inhumane but menacing face. The promise of Death. Stenbeck whispered, "That's our new enemy. That's a Guardian." <center>[[Halo:_Lonely_Frontier#Halo:_Lonely_Frontier|''Return to Top'']]</center> Return to Halo: Lonely Frontier. Retrieved from "https://halofanon.fandom.com/wiki/Halo:_Lonely_Frontier"