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 Five: Beckett Blues'''=== :<big><u>'''Andra'''</u></big> :'''2034 Hours, 02 November 2558''' :'''UNSC Flagship ''Infinity''''' :'''Location Unknown''' Andra almost died of fright upon wandering by Frendsen’s officer suite two days after her debriefing regarding Operation: RUNIT DOME. She respected her superior officer but her knowledge of him extended little due to their infantile working relationship. He seemed professional but weird, with his fascination for paper documents and college professor antics, not that Andra knew anything about professors. His visitation rules were strange too; knock before entering and always request meetings in advance. However, he did request her presence two hours ago, so when she heard glass shatter from his ajar door, she tossed formality to the wind and barged in. She felt like a fool upon crashing an officers’ meeting between Frendsen and his guests, Captain Thomas Lasky, and Lieutenant Commander Vilda Stenbeck. Frendsen rose from his desk so fast, his chair screeched along the plastic floor and he appeared to pop up like a sentient turnip. “Andra?” Her face turned pale, realizing she just made a nasty mistake. She glanced between the three officers, all far and above her reproach. Captain Lasky eyes drifted between the young Spartan and the shattered glass of alcohol on the floor, once in hand. Stenbeck was leaning forward, towards the Captain as if emphasizing a point but straightened at the sight of Andra dressed in civilian attire. Everyone was quiet, everyone was staring. “Uh, apologizes for the intrusion. Sirs. Ma’am. I’ll take my leave and come back when my commander isn’t busy.” Andra rattled off a rushed apology to the high-ranking military personnel, spun on her heel and made for the door. “Wait-wait-wait,” Stenbeck called and Andra obeyed, pausing with a shoulder glance. “Stay, it’s not an issue.” “Stenbeck, this is not the time to be discussing those things. Especially in front of personnel without appropriate security clearance, or an open door.” The Captain started, straightening his back. “To be honest, Captain. Screw security clearance. Screw the chain of command. We’re on the run. Who cares if one Spartan hears about a weapon system that is technically less secret than her own existence?” Captain Lasky turned to Andra again as she stiffened under his tired, brown-eyed gaze. “I’m sorry to give you a scare Spartan…” “Spartan-D054.” She supplied. “Last name, Spartan.” Apparently, Lasky was a people person, not much for the formalities of ONI or secret, augmented child-soldiers. She appreciated that, especially when she wasn’t in uniform. “Kearsarge,” Andra stated, just a little bit proud of her deceased mother’s maiden name. “Spartan Kearsarge, you’re dismissed. I’ll have Frendsen call you back in a little bit.” “Sir,” Andra saluted the Captain and went to do the same to the two Lieutenant Commanders but stopped upon meeting Stenbeck’s blood-freezing glare. The Spartan’s voice retreated into a gurgled silence. Frendsen made no noise, glancing between his Spartan subordinate and the two other officers occupying his quarters. “Lieutenant Commander…” Lasky’s level tone spiked just a hint, insinuating the fine line the ONI officer walked. “Sir, you’re the highest-ranked officer on ''Infinity'', the highest-ranking in the task force. Earth has gone dark. We can’t communicate with FLEETCOM, as it stands, our own networks are compromised to Cortana. We need to deploy our INKVs now, while they still haven’t been intercepted by the Created.” “And what, risk ''Infinity’s'' position, or the recovery points we’re establishing on the Frontier for our away teams? I can’t risk it.” “We have enough launch stations scattered across the Frontier. Sea-launch and installation-based NOVAs. The Prowler Corps is probably already lined up and ready, we can have target solutions in hours!” Stenbeck continued to push the Captain. “I’m not going to do it. I will not jeopardize ''Infinity'' over potentially compromised nukes. That’s my final word on that,” Lasky countered at his subordinate, genuine frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Consider this meeting over. Muster your team and have them ready for deployment, I don’t want to hear another word of this, Stenbeck. I mean it.” The Lieutenant Commander’s face was an outright scowl as her eyes squinted into narrow slips at the UNSC ''Infinity’s'' steadfast Captain. Her lips oozed with vindication. “Understood. Your orders, Captain. I’ll see myself out.” Andra pedaled frantically to the side to let the rage-filled naval officer pass unchallenged out of the suite. The officer’s legs shifted robotically, a stiff shuffling of her hips out the room. She didn’t know Stenbeck well, even with RUNIT DOME, but it seemed Frendsen’s warnings about her were right. Best stay clear. Captain Lasky watched her leave, a narrow-eyed grimace on his face until she disappeared out the door and around the corner all the way until her footsteps no longer echoed. Content, he placed a hand to his forehead and glanced at the two other occupants of Frendsen’s quarters. “My apologies for that Frendsen, I should have kept a better grip on my glass. Allow me to clean it up.” “No problem, Captain,” Frendsen said, moving out from behind his cluttered work desk to pull a broom and dustpan from a small side closet. He joined the Captain to kneel by the scattered mess of glass shards on the ground and handed the officer the cleaning items. “Thank you,” the Captain stated and proceeded to sweep the mess up in a matter of minutes. The entire time Andra watched them work, wide-eyed. She wasn’t familiar with officer protocol, but she imagined herself at a sort-of zoo, watching these two naval officers hover over a pile of broken glass and the remains of melted ice. Once assorted, the glass and ice were tossed in the plastic dustbin underneath Frendsen’s desk, the cleaning tools were placed back in the cupboard, and Lasky went for the door. “Apologies again, Frendsen. Spartan Kearsarge,” The Captain acknowledged, stopping at the doorway. “I’ll see myself out; and one other thing, Frendsen.” “Yes, Captain?” Frendsen nodded to the superior with his arms clasped comfortably behind him. “That drink, it's good. Remind me, what was it?” “Jameson Irish Whiskey. 2529.” “Four years into the War,” Lasky nodded with a thoughtful frown, considering the age of the golden-brown bottle sitting atop Frendsen’s desk. “I was nineteen then; a lifetime ago.” He said waved and exited the room, leaving Frendsen alone with Andra. The Spartan and ONI Lieutenant Commander said nothing in the meantime, listening to the Captain’s footsteps disappear around the corner. Once quiet, Frendsen crossed the room and stopped at the door-side control panel. With a button press, the suite door slid shut, leaving the remaining occupants to their privacy. Andra said nothing, waiting patiently for her superior’s next words. He slid back behind his desk, pulled his chair close to the table, and settled his dark-skinned hands on the desk in a comfortable grip among a sea of vanilla paper. A small, generous smile graced his jaw while Andra stared back aloofly at the center of the room. Clearly, he wouldn’t talk first. “So… What are INKVs?” The female Spartan asked, crossing her arms. The Lieutenant Commander’s smile tugged a bit south, but he answered anyway. “Humanity’s spear after the Covenant War. Next-generation missiles equipped with Slipspace drives and the biggest bombs ever built. Intended for destroying Covenant worlds if they decided to continue the War.” Andra’s eyes fluttered at the explanation. Entire planets? She couldn’t fathom that. “Why didn’t we use them, to begin with? Get our revenge?” “Because if our species is to have a future, it needs to move forward. Not get bogged down by old grudges. We were the dominant galactic civilization until a few days ago. No point in destroying our defeated enemies.” “And now?” “Stenbeck is desperate. No one knows what to do now. We’re just running until we figure something out.” “Then let’s just nuke the Created. Weaken them.” Andra frowned, seeing the problem and solution promptly. “And what of the billions of alien and human lives we destroy in the process? It’s not a gamble the Captain wants to take, and neither do I. And you shouldn’t want it either.” Andra hummed at the explanation but said nothing more on the matter. It seemed even a stringent man like Frendsen could loosen a little when the galaxy was falling apart around him. “Enough about that now, I called you in here because I have some news.” Andra’s eyebrows rose, doubt evident. Hard to feel anything worse or better when your best friend was possibly dead, and civilization was on the brink of destruction. “What is it?” “The prowler ''Beckett'' reported back that they recovered Team Xiphos. They’re returning to ''Infinity'' as we speak.” “Josh and Amy are okay?” “I don’t know; the message was spotty. I know Xiphos though, they’ve been in tough spots before.” That was good news, or at least, the best news Andra received in more than seventy hours. Her seniors were alive and kicking. Joshua-G024 and Amy-G094 trained Andra and her friends after they graduated from SPARTAN-III Delta Company. As a pair of Gamma Company Headhunters, they were among the deadliest Spartan teams alive. They were likely just fine. Amy could be aloof and distant but warm outside training. She didn’t show much favoritism, but she treated everyone fairly and worked Boson hard. Andra got along with her. Joshua, on the other hand, was often cold and distant, but showed Andra special treatment, always showering her with appropriate praise and tutoring her in everything he could. He was the older brother she never had. More so when he busted Merlin’s ribs last year; Andra still winced at that thought. Her fingers pinched her shirt fabric while thinking about Merlin and Joshua in the same thought. The two didn’t get along but they did have something in common that they cherished: Andra. The two saw something when others passed her over as insignificant. They believed in her and she loved them both for it, and more. Frendsen continued to watch over his subordinate as a million emotions and thoughts flashed through her eyes. Droplets glistened at the edges, as hope and a rare smile overwhelmed the young girl. “Thank you for informing me, sir.” “No problem, Spartan. That said, they won’t be back until three or four hundred hours. That’s more than six hours away, think you can handle the wait?” “Well, there’s only so much you can do aboard ''Infinity'' dressed as a civilian.” Frendsen tilted his head at the statement. “What have you been up to?” “Making my bed. Arguing with Roland. PT-ing on my own around the ship. Drawing. Sleeping,” Andra counted off with extended fingers. “Five items I guess.” Frendsen nodded quietly in thought and looked to his table of controlled chaos. His eyes held there for an uncounted number of seconds. Andra curiously watched him while timidly tugging at her tee shirt’s hemline. “Do you have something to do between now and then?” Frendsen asked, looking back at the Spartan. “I could head back to my quarters and change into coveralls and see if Commander Palmer has any open slots for War Games. Or maybe just go catch some shuteye, whatever I can get anyway…” “Will you?” “No idea. Sleep hasn’t come easy, the last two days.” “I understand,” Frendsen glanced back to his desk, “you can also loiter here if you like. I have a Sci Deck datapad you can borrow.” “Egg-board.” Andra’s eyebrows knitted together but a half-smirk twitched on her lips. “Egg-board?” Frendsen repeated with a questioning eyebrow. “Palmer calls them that. Eggheads, scientists. Egg-boards, datapads.” “I didn’t need to know that,” Frendsen said, shifting two desk piles aside to unearth a dusty computer tablet. “Okay,” Andra replied smartly, wiping the tugging smile from her lips. Her eyes trailed Frendsen as he swiped at the device screen, sending tiny particles freckling through the stale starship air. “Here,” Frendsen passed the datapad to Andra before sitting down behind his desk and scooting in. “I got several more intel packages to go through, so try to keep disturbances to a minimum. You can take the couch there.” Andra took the officer’s offer and moved to a plain-style synthetic leather couch in the corner, double-tapping the screen to power it up. “What you going to do?” Frendsen asked without looking up from his paperwork while the Spartan girl skimmed through system programs. “Watch ''Odd One Out'',” Andra stated without pause. “That WayPoint children’s show?” Frendsen asked in disbelief. Andra expected that reaction; it was hard to imagine a Spartan enjoying a children’s show. But she was a child, technically. If there was anything important that her previous commander taught Andra, it was to hold dear to her childhood. And even as a Spartan, that was what she did. “I like Spartan-1337, he’s funny.” She added without looking up. Frendsen glanced up at Andra for a few seconds before disappearing again into his paperwork. She allowed herself a small smile, claiming a tiny personal victory over the often-aloof commanding officer. The room’s only noise came from Frendsen’s jumbled desk, a smattering of stapler clicks, paper shuffling, and the occasional pencil scratch. Andra didn’t make any noise herself, curled up stealthily on the sofa. She eased herself into the antics of a cartoon Spartan on her clasped datapad while noises of battle and poor jokes rattled off in her head via neural implant. A warm fuzzy feeling heaved in her chest with silent laughter, but it did not reach her face. It was a good moment, but one that could be better. If only Merlin were here, sharing this moment of animated reruns with her. ''Tri-O'' was his show too. <center>'''. . .'''</center> Andra leaned into her right hip, relaxing her impatient nerves after standing sharp for over thirty minutes. Her eyes lazily traced the rigid bumps and fixtures that populated the far-off ceiling of Hangar Seventeen. Frendsen stood calmly next to her, occasionally checking for emails on the same datapad Andra used earlier to watch anime Spartans. On the hangar’s other end, a mismatching fireteam of five SPARTAN-IVs maintained security under the watchful eye of a helmetless Commander Sarah Palmer. In another time, Captain Lasky might have joined the welcoming party to meet their guests, however, security circumstances and pressing command duties seemed to regulate the usually personable Captain to the bridge and personal quarters. At least that was what Fireteam Kodiak and Palmer had been yapping about five minutes ago. Now they waited, settling in a loose gathering by some storage crates. Andra examined their armor sets with a passing interest, quizzing herself on the different panels and plates bolted onto their tech-suit frames. Between the lack of consistency and subtle differences in their colorations, it reminded Andra a little of her own unit’s preferences. Due to the continued military-industrial complex after the Covenant War and the relaxed regulations of the Spartan Branch, Andra occasionally witnessed the bemusing phenomenon of a SPARTAN-IV in hot pink armor. Sometimes it was the aftermath of a devilish prank, and other times, it was completely intentional. Gratefully, nobody dressed as such this morning. Commander Palmer’s angry fits were noteworthy. Andra’s own armor never reached such outlandish feats. Instead, hers was a dirty, mundane mix of white and black splotches with acquiesced gear from the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers that she made sure never to parade around in. It wasn’t worth drawing the attention of any book-throwing superior officer with an eye for sharp uniforms. “Andra, Xiphos is back.” Frendsen softly announced, looking up from his clutched datapad. She gave her superior a nod and examined the black void dotted with distant stars before her. Guarded by a vibrant energy shield, the edges of her vision were tinted blue from electrified particles. Andra scanned the vacuum looking for a warping blur of starlight as a darkish, semi-transparent balloon passing by them. From the one or two times she visited aboard Team Xiphos’s personal prowler, the ''Private Property'', Andra developed a familiarity for the stealth trick. She wondered where it was now; probably lost like so many other ships to Created incursions across human space days after Cortana announced her imperialist annexation of the galaxy. She blinked for a moment, holding back a wetting, early tear for Merlin and for the bands of refugees forming temporary settlements in the hangars and halls of the ''Infinity''. In the corner of her squinting left eye, she caught the tell-tale sign of the ''Beckett'' arriving. “I see them,” Andra said, a little louder than Frendsen’s previous statement, drawing the attention of the other Spartans. “Now…?” One of the Kodiak members called from their makeshift seat only to stand alertly when the space at the edge of Hangar Seventeen flickered like refractions off pool water that peeled back into a hexagonal weave revealing a jet-black, titanium hull of the most alien-looking specimen among human warships, a ''Sahara''-class prowler. The UNSC ''Beckett''. The hangar intercom thundered to life as Roland announced the ship’s presence, “Captain Lasky, the captain of ''Beckett'' requests permission to offload their wounded and restock on supplies.” “Granted, Roland. Palmer, please see to their needs, anything they need for continued long-term operations.” Lasky responded while passing jurisdiction of the prowler to the Spartan commander. “Will do, Captain,” Palmer called back as the jet-black ship drew closer, slipping past the great blue field holding back the empty vacuum of space. Upon passing the shield, the low hum of the prowler’s maneuvering thrusters rumbled through the air. Titanium hangar floor met titanium ship body with a screech and click, subtle docking links locking into place. The anterior door located at the ''Beckett’s'' bow hissed, sliding down to reveal a ramp and a team of Navy corpsmen and ONI Security contractors waiting in the airlock. The security troopers stepped aside briskly allowing the corpsmen to plow down the ramp in a frantic throng, dragging a large cryogenic storage device on a gurney into the hangar space; the kind of storage unit intended for severely injured individuals. “Oh shit,” Andra mouthed off, chilling fear curling around her heart, “Who’s that? Are they okay?” “Spartan-G094. We need to get her to an intensive care unit immediately, she’s barely stabilized on ice.” A corpsman called as Andra and Frendsen approached the freezing casket. Commander Palmer acted quickly, gesturing to Fireteam Kodiak. “Kodiak, two keep guard. Two come with me to the ''Beckett''. One goes with Lieutenant Commander Frendsen and prep the operating table for G094.” “Ma’am,” The members of Kodiak briskly said in varied unison and moved to their respective order stations. One of Kodiak joined Andra and Frendsen at the medical pod’s side along with the medical team, pushing their reinforced gurney along towards the loading elevator at the hangar’s rear. And for Andra, she shoved passed the corpsmen and stopped the cart in its tracks. She stared wildly into the frosty, curved window separating her from the occupant within. She recognized the bludgeoned and dented armor below. Steel-colored plates patterned over a scarred-up Spartan tech suit. Dulled white polygons marked with clotting purple alien and red human blood. A cracked PATHFINDER helmet with a heavily scratched yellowish visor. This was Amy-G094, bloody and beaten inches from death. Was that even possible? Andra planted her hands against the cold glass, pressing into it to feel the cold bite against them, a reminder of this bleak reality. She curled her fingers into fists and glared menacingly at the nearest corpsman. “Josh! Where’s Josh?” She demanded, reaching out and gripping the man by shoulders, lifting him into the air and atop the casket. “Petty Officer!” Frendsen shouted behind Andra but she didn’t listen, she wanted to know. Right. Now. “We-we don’t know! He wasn’t aboard the escape pod where we found G094. We checked the area around their transponder and found nothing!” “You left him for dead!” She growled viciously at the shivering corpsman; in any other scenario, it might have been funny, a teenage girl making a medic piss his pants. “We were out there for two days! Any longer and we risked pirates or Created zeroing in on us!” “Ugh,” Andra grunted at his insufficient response, lightly tossing the man into the medical casket before letting him go. The escorting Kodiak member seized Andra’s shoulder, yanking her back a step while pressing down with an armored gauntlet. “Spartan, stand down.” Frendsen took that moment to yell at his subordinate. “Andra, you’re out of order! Stand down!” Andra eyed the SPARTAN-IV with the greatest volume of malice she could muster. She reached deep, drawing from the fears of Merlin’s demises, the rage of missing Joshua, the shock of Amy’s injuries, her trained distaste for SPARTAN-IVs as fake Spartans. Her nose wrinkled up at the seven-foot-supersoldier and violently yanked her shoulder from his tight grasp. It stung, probably left a bruise, but it felt good. Fuck this. Screw all these people and the whole universe for taking those she loved away from her. Andra backpedaled, slipped around Frendsen who sidestepped out of her warpath. She sprinted towards the cargo elevator and didn’t look back at the gathering of UNSC personnel. She didn’t dare let them hear the violent heaves giving way to the stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. She barely heard Frendsen yelling up a storm behind her, “Spartan-D054, get back here!” <center>'''. . .'''</center> Andra waited until her wardroom’s sliding door clicked shut to unfurl her coiled rage. Hot tears rained down her cheeks as she gritted her teeth together and clutched her hoodie and hair against her temples. Hot air hissed from the back of her throat against her locked jaws, pressuring against the walls until she let the painful roar leave her lips with a gasp. “Ah-uhh!” She sputtered, coughing as loose saliva slipped into her airway. Settling down in momentary silence, Andra caught her breath but a fire still raged beneath her skin. A casual glance to the side led her to cross the room from the doorway to the hanger rack at her bedside. A cruel grimace marked up Andra’s face as she approached the few assorted clothing items waiting at attention: her depowered Spartan tech suit and coveralls, a dusty naval parade uniform she hadn’t touched in a year, three sets of civilian clothes from her old studio apartment in New Phoenix, and her used hospital gown from the operating room. She ripped the hospital gown from its coat hanger, creating a clacking of metal hangar against its metal hanging bar. She hooked the fabric between her two hands and examined it disinterestedly, noting the loose ribbons of cotton and bioplastics hanging around its newly destroyed collar. Andra grabbed the two shoulder points in the gown and pulled in opposite directions. A ''thud-popping'' noise rippled as sown thread weaves frayed apart in her pale-white grips. The hospital gown came apart neatly, like torn tissue paper, leaving two bundled messes hanging from her hands. She huffed to herself, tossing the two bundles to Merlin’s unoccupied bunk and didn’t dare look back at the destruction she left. She glared back at the hanger rack for the next thing to shred apart. Her hand sailed up and latched onto the dusty-looking, white Navy parade uniform. She was certain she was going to rip it; so certain she could imagine the seams getting cut between her fingers and her throwing the few ribbons and service medals from the fabric so hard they embedded in the wall behind her. Andra let go of the uniform, her hand falling lamely to her side. No, she wouldn’t go that far. She didn’t need that incident on her already spotty record, and explaining why she destroyed her uniform to Frendsen wouldn’t be enjoyable. She twisted around to face her well-made bed, fresh from yesterday’ s scrutinous morning ritual as she had done so for the last week. During the pseudo-nights, she’d decimate the covers to get a good night’s sleep but during the pseudo-day snoozes, she’d curl up on Merlin’s bunk to avoid destroying her meticulous work. She began her early morning routine three hours early, raging at her bed in a grand adventure of reconstituting her well-made hospital corners and perfectly formed sheets. She layered the sheets on top of one another, formed her corner triangles, secured the loose fabric, and fluffed her pillow into a decent rectangle. And it looked all wrong, as usual. “Before you consider tearing up your bed again, maybe you’d consider discussing what’s eating at you Spartan?” “Roland, get out!” Andra yelled without glancing up from the developing bedding disaster. The golden Smart AI’s human-sized avatar flickered into existence just over the Spartan’s shoulder. He took a few steps from his projector origin point into the room, stopping to stand in Andra’s peripheral. “Hey,” Roland softly prodded, accepting none of the girl’s hostility. “I’ve come by every morning since you got discharged. I’ve given you space but I’ve also kept my eye out for yah, and right now, it's looking like you need someone to talk to.” Letting go over her bedsheets, Andra sighed in half-hearted defeat and eyed the hologram with red-stained eyes and puffy cheeks. “What do you want Roland? Can’t you see I want to be left alone.” “I think you need someone to talk to right now, and you’ve managed to piss off everyone that I can immediately identify that might give you a shoulder to weep on, so, I’m all you’ve got.” “Yeah, Frendsen can be upset if he wants to. I don’t give a fat shit.” “You manhandled a medic; I think his anger is at least justified.” “They left Joshua out there to die. He’s dead because of them!” “They tried their best,” Roland corrected in a slow tone, careful not to set the Spartan girl off. “The Created is hunting all of us now, we can’t risk losing an entire prowler for one missing corpse. I’m really sorry for your loss, I can tell you cared deeply for him.” “You said corpse,” Andra’s eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say? That he was long dead before they got there?” The Smart AI sighed, bringing a transparent hand to his eyes. “Yes, I’m saying Spartan-G024 died four days before the ''Beckett'' recovered Spartan-G094.” “How do you know this?” Andra demanded, standing up to her full height, towering just a couple inches over the golden hologram. Roland didn’t budge from his spot. “G094’s suit recorder confirmed Spartan-G024 died of brain hypoxia following a breach in his vacuum suit. I’m really sorry Spartan, he was long dead before the recovery team could reach him.” Andra was quiet for a long time, staring down at the floor, processing this load of heavy-hitting information. She wrongly blamed the medical personnel and the crew of the UNSC ''Beckett'' for failing to save Joshua, Andra could accept that error but she was still burning on an emotional high. Tears were still dripping over her wardroom’s matted floor. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m deal-dealing with a lot of crap right now. All my friends are missing or out of reach. My parents are dead. I lost Merlin. I lost Joshua. Amy’s in a coma. The universe is taking everyone and everything I’ve ever cared about from me, one by one! Everything I’ve been fighting for; its all gone.” Roland watched Andra mumble through her demons, nodding slowly in understanding. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make the situation better and he wasn’t corporeal, he didn’t have a physical body to wrap this emotionally decimated child in a hug. All he could give her was his presence and a figurative ear to listen. “Roland,” Andra sniffled after a while of silent tears, “where are they keeping Amy’s armor?” “You’re talking about the helmet footage?” Andra nodded without looking up at the Smart AI’s projection. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea Spartan. I’ve reviewed the footage… I would advise against looking at it right now.” “For once Roland, just fucking tell me. I don’t want to hear you talk about rules. Just tell me.” “I can have a recorder copy delivered here if you like,” Roland offered but Andra cut him off. “No! Her armor, I want to see it! None of this protective bullshit, I’m a Spartan. I’ve faced Death before, I can handle myself. Just tell me where I can find the damn recorder,” she paused, glaring confidently behind tearful pupils into the golden projection’s concerned, wide fake-eyes. “Please Roland.” <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"