So… My second try at non-TMNT fanfiction. Please read and review! I enjoy thoughtful critiques. I've been struggling lately with academic writing style because I've been writing so much creative stuff, so I'd love to hear any thoughts about how my creative writing style works out. This is just the first few pages of a story that is over 106,000 words so far and still going strong.

Please note: The absence of the Chief's name is intentional. It's a plot device I'm trying out. Please let me know your reaction!

Disclaimer: Unless it's an OC, I didn't make it. Halo and associated characters, names, themes, etc belong to their respective owner(s), not me nor do I make any claim to it. I'd love to own John, though… Who wouldn't?

Prologue – From Out of Nowhere

"Admiral Hood!" Lord Hood motioned for the man at the monitoring station to speak, chewing idly at his cheek. It was a bad habit of his. "Unidentified Slipspace activity just outside range of our MACs, sir. Very close jump. Has to be Covenant technology."

"Set the warning level to amber," Lord Hood ordered, scrutinizing the screen. "Alert all personnel."

"Sir, yes, sir!" The man turned back to his station and spoke quickly into his microphone, alerting the forces surrounding Earth, the last safe place for humanity in the universe, that they had a visitor.

"Move into defense formation beta," Admiral Hood ordered, watching on the screen before him as the unmistakable purple hull of a Covenant cruiser began to emerge from the Slipspace bubble.

As soon as the ship was completely out of the bubble, the communications officer barked, "Sir! I have confirmation codes. It's the Arbiter."

Lord Hood frowned. Thel 'Vadam had left just over a week ago, and the trip to Sanghelios was at least three weeks in both directions. Something must have happened to turn him around; the admiral peered at the viewscreen but saw no obvious signs of destruction on the ship.

"Squawk ident and demand reason for return," Lord Hood ordered the communications officer. She turned back to her desk immediately and relayed his orders.

Lord Hood watched her closely; she listened for a moment to whoever was speaking on the other end and her face suddenly broke out into a large grin. She jumped up and turned to the admiral, who blinked at her reaction.

"They found the Master Chief!" she yelled excitedly. The entire bridge froze for a second.

"Patch me through, speaker," Lord Hood barked, hoping against hopes that it was true.

"Lord Admiral." That was unmistakably Thel's deep voice that rumbled through the speakers on the bridge. "I apologize for returning so abruptly, but I bring a peace offering."

Lord Hood felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth, but remained serious as he responded, "What do you bring, Arbiter?"

"Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117, reporting for duty, sir."

The deep voice that spoke over the speakers sent a thrill through Lord Hood. One of his soldiers – a damn war hero to boot – was alive. The bridge erupted into cheers and the communications officer quickly silenced the microphone in front of the admiral so the cacophony wasn't transmitted. Even the admiral himself grinned widely before barking at everyone to settle down.

The Master Chief had been missing for nearly a year. Probes had been sent out constantly, searching for any and all UNSC distress beacons. There had been a couple of responses – one had been the remnants of a long-dead UNSC battleship, the other a false alarm caused by some sort of radio interference from a nearby Cortez star.

"You're late," he said sternly, unable to keep the relief from his voice.

"Sorry, sir," the Chief responded, his voice bland. "It won't happen again."

"Do you have Cortana with you?"

"Right here, admiral." Cortana's smooth female voice sent another wave of quiet cheers through the bridge. The Chief was famous on his own, but together, the pair was damn near god-like in the eyes of the public. The only team that could compete was Cortana, the Chief, and the Arbiter, or a group of Spartan-IIs before they were spread too thin to pair up towards the end of the war.

"Good to hear your voice, both of you. We'll send a transport to pick you up." Lord Hood flicked a finger at one of the officers standing nearby; he saluted and quickly left to carry the message and find a pilot and a ship.

"Thank you, sir."

"Welcome back, you two. Humanity has missed you."

Back on the Sangheili ship, Cortana smiled on her holographic pedestal. She watched carefully through the ship's cameras – Thel had granted her access to the system, though she could have easily overridden his security if she wished – as a cruiser flew towards them from the armada around Earth.

The Master Chief stood silently for a moment and then said quietly, "Thank you, Thel." The Arbiter nodded his head gracefully.

"I shall see you soon, Spartan," the Sangheili said deeply. "I must return to Sanghelios and ensure the safety of my kin and state. Then I will return to the peace talks between our races."

The Chief nodded and extended a hand to Cortana, who grasped his glove in her holographic hands and transferred herself back into his suit's chip. She felt her processing power drop as she did so and lamented; she had spent the months marooned in the dead of space processing all the information from the Gravemind and Forerunner artifacts she had come across, finally having the time and power to do so.

Cortana processed a feeling of trepidation, an instinctual program that rarely led her wrong, as she remembered the giant Flood form. She banished it and focused on the human she had been partnered with years ago. The Chief had been unreasonably quiet; he usually had a small amount of banter for her when she first rejoined him in the MJOLNIR armor.

Cortana knew that his being rescued wasn't exactly an improvement. The war was over, they had learned from Thel. There was no place for a warrior like the Spartan-II in peace. Thel struggled himself, having been a fighter all his life, but he had been put to use by his superiors as a diplomat. He was a hero to humanity in his own way, though that image was mostly sustained by the stories of the Master Chief and the Arbiter fighting the Flood and Covenant loyalists side-by-side and back-to-back.

"Are you okay?" Cortana asked the Chief as he walked quickly down to the hangar bay where the human ship would be able to dock with the Sangheili ship.

The Spartan grunted affirmative; she waited patiently and then cleared her throat. He sighed slightly but obediently answered. "I don't know what is waiting for me," he admitted. "I want a shower, food, and some sleep. But I doubt I'll get it right away."

Cortana made a sound of comfort and understanding, though she hadn't ever experienced showering, eating, or sleeping first-hand. She could power herself down if the situation demanded it, but she hadn't in years – she preferred to be awake and absorbing information every moment of her short AI life.

"I'm sure everyone will agree a shower is in order if you remove your helmet," she teased lightly, rewarded by a slight chuckle. They remained in silence for the rest of the wait as the ship approached quickly.

The two ships mated awkwardly and the hatch in front of the Chief slowly hissed open. The Spartan marched into the empty bay and up to the front where the pilot was quick to close the connection and turn towards Earth.

"Good to have you onboard, Chief," the pilot said as she expertly flew the small cruiser towards the fleet orbiting above Earth. Behind them, the Arbiter's ship turned and headed out-system quickly.

"Good to be back," he answered stoically. "Is there a group waiting for us on board?"

The pilot nodded slightly. "Yes, sir. I believe the admiral put together a quick little welcome-home for you, sir. You've been missing for a year, after all. The public wants to know you're alive."

The Chief grunted. "Cameras?"

"Not yet. No reporters were on-site today." The pilot chuckled when the Spartan sighed in relief.

Cortana spoke briefly with the pilot, gathering information on the current state of things. Thel had been able to tell them little about the human casualties and remaining population in the week it had taken them to return to the Sol system. The Sangheili medics aboard the ship – a token crew, mostly there because they hadn't been rotated in the chaos when the Human-Covenant war ended – had treated the minor freezer burns on the Spartan from cryo. They had also offered to clean and repair his armor, but the Chief refused politely. He rather liked the dings, so long as they were small.

Thel had presented him with an energy sword, a token of appreciation and a formal way of initiating the Spartan into the ranks of the Sangheili. It was a short ceremony that the Spartan endured, knowing that having official rank among humanity's new allies may work in his advantage in the future. Thel, with the approval of the entire crew, had presented him with the energy sword now safely stored in the "pocket" in the MJOLNIR's thigh armor and officially named him after the Sangheili tradition.

The name, which the human couldn't pronounce correctly because it required a split jaw to speak, meant "courage" in Sangheili, Thel had explained afterwards. Most of the crew called him "Demon," however, when he passed them in the hall or during meal times. A select few referred to him as "Reclaimer" after 343 Guilty Spark's designation for all humans. Thel still referred to him as "Spartan," which the Chief accepted more readily than any other name he had been given by humanity or any Covenant race.

Living with the Sangheili on their ship had taught the Spartan a lot about their culture. Meal times were strictly enforced; the only way to get out of eating with the group was if you had guard duty. Armor was worn at all times; the Chief had taken a short shower just before the medics had examined him out of armor, but they had no human clothing so he was quickly back in his armor and had stayed in it since then. Sangheili salutes included a honorary warble that mean something along the lines of "greetings to you, higher-ranked one" and a fist over the heart in their chest, head bowed. When a higher-ranked Sangheili greeted a lower-ranked one, the lower-ranked one never interrupted.

The discipline and organization on the ship was incredible. Everyone had a set job or duty, and no one went into cryo. The crew was skeleton-sized, but each had an important task. Sangheili kept 38-Earth-hour days, according to Cortana's calculations, which the Chief had quickly accustomed himself to. They worked 20-hour shifts, as bridge crew, food crew, or other duties, and had two hours designated as leisure time, though most Elites spent that time training and sparring in the large onboard gym.

The Spartan had been invited to join them regularly, in groups of twos and threes, and had proven himself worthy of his title and name several times over. He shared human tactics and strategy with Sangheili warriors, most of whom were veterans from the Human-Covenant War. In turn, they related legends and tales of their culture, animating the stories sometimes with skits and, in the case of battle stories, play fights. Elites tried to teach the human how to speak their language, to frustrating results. However, the Sangheili easily learned English and could speak it fairly well.

The Chief quickly learned that the Elites were not so different from humans. Their legends and culture was different, and they held to a strict moral and ethical code, but they enjoyed sharing their stories just as much as any human. They teased each other, though their humor was something the Spartan did not share, and taught each other.

The entire week the Chief had been on the ship, only one major event occurred. A lower-ranking Elite had insulted a superior, the human had gathered. The matter was quickly resolved with a ceremonial sparring. Thel had explained that such duels were traditionally to the death, but on a ship and with such a small insult – it had included something about intentionally not making way to the superior in a hallway – the battle would be fought until honor was satisfied. The lower-ranked warrior had been taken to the medical bay with a small concussion when the battle was over, and was pronounced fit and healthy – though irresponsible and stupid – the next shift.

Cortana's voice brought the Chief back to the present as the cruiser docked with the destroyer UNSC Stormy Horizon. The pilot opened the hatch and called a cheerful goodbye as the Spartan quickly disembarked.

Despite the short notice, the bay was packed with UNSC personnel craning to get a glimpse of the Master Chief, apparently risen from the dead. The Spartan ignored the loud eruptions of cheers, whistles, and calls of "Welcome back!" that rose when he stepped out of the airlock.

Admiral Hood stepped forward, commanding the Chief's attention. He had to shout to be heard over the noise. The Spartan snapped to attention and saluted.

"Welcome back, Chief," the admiral said formally, returning the salute. "At ease. Let's find somewhere quieter to talk."

Gladly, the Chief thought to himself. He followed Lord Hood towards a corridor, leaving the cheers behind him. Cortana remarked dryly, "You could at least wave."

"They have their hero," the Chief responded solemnly, muting his speakers to talk to Cortana alone. "I need not fuel their fan-like behavior."

Cortana snorted. "You've spent too long with soldiers."

The Spartan refused to answer that and concentrated on following Lord Hood, who took them to his personal office. They passed several dozen UNSC personnel on the way, all of whom quickly got out of the way and saluted, grinning from ear-to-ear at the sight of the presumed-dead war hero.

When they entered the office, Lord Hood quickly sealed the door and sat behind his desk. "Have a seat, Master Chief," he said, waving to a chair.

"With all due respect, sir, it won't support me," the Chief said ruefully.

"Ah, yes, my apologies." The admiral smiled slightly. "Then let me bring you up to speed…"

The Spartan listened as his commanding officer described a world that had no need of him anymore except as a public icon of bravery and perseverance. He kept his reaction to himself, however, and handed over Cortana when asked, storing her chip in the admiral's desk. Lord Hood ordered him to shower, eat, and do whatever he needed to do; a press conference was scheduled for 0900 the next morning, nearly eighteen hours away.

The Chief found his assigned quarters and shut himself inside, quickly removing his armor and taking a hot shower, lingering slightly as he attempted to sort through the information he had gathered. There had been no word from or about his fellow Spartans who were still missing. The Brutes were taking control of the Covenant Loyalists. He had been promoted to Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy, apparently posthumously, but the rank would stand now that he was confirmed alive.

The UNSC was severely downsizing, hiring more engineers to work with Sangheili technology to build a few fleet of Covenant-inspired human ships but firing Marines, ODSTs, and other fighting personnel in droves. They kept a token security force, of course, but the Covenant Loyalists weren't nearly ready to launch even a weak offensive. In that news, the Chief read his own retirement as inevitable. The thought filled him with a sense of discomfort, almost nervousness. He had only ever known military life; he didn't know how to function outside of it.

These thoughts plagued him until he ordered himself to sleep, feet hanging off the too-short cot as he quickly fell into a deep sleep. His green armor shone iridescently in the corner where he had carefully laid it out on the shelves and floor.