Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Ender's Game, and I would like to thank the creators of both worlds for creating something awesome.

AN: I don't have a Beta, nor do I want one. If you see an error, please let me know.

Chapter 1, Not My War:

The Master Chief sat on his bed on the Infinity, staring down at the floor between his feet. In his mind, the events aboard the Composer played over and over, everything that had happened. He so desperately wished that he could see a chink, a crack, anything that he had missed previously that could save her. He couldn't find anything.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his bed. The ceiling was just as bare as the floor, but it didn't matter. Nothing he did mattered anymore. The war was over, the Didact was defeated, and the Arbiter had all but crushed the Covenant Loyalists. There was nothing left for him to do, no wars for him to fight, no threats that needed a Spartan-II.

For someone who had spent his whole life fighting, it was agony. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go. He was lost, and loosing Cortana had not helped. His head felt empty, almost hollow with her gone. There was nothing he could do about it.

Fighting the vacant feeling that was beginning to rise in his chest, he rolled onto his side and breathed deeply. It took a few minutes, but he fell asleep.

Captain Lasky stood on the bridge of the UNSC Infinity, staring silently at Earth. He quietly thought about all of the work that needed to be done to rebuild humanity. They had come so close to destruction, between the Covenant and the Flood, their numbers had been reduced greatly, and even they had been in peril when the Didact had threatened to destroy the entire human race. Between that and the Halos, Spartan 117 had saved humanity single-handedly multiple times.

Which was where his other problem was about to come in.

"Captain," the ship's A.I., Roland, piped up, "there's an unusual energy signature coming from Sierra-117's room. The signature is indicative of a slipspace rupture."

Lasky turned towards the orange fighter pilot. "What?"

The Chief didn't wake as a portal opened up around him. It engulfed the super-solider with a swirling blue and black pattern. Then as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. And it had taken the Spartan with it.

The Chief opened his eyes to an odd sight. He was strapped securely into a seat, alongside a bunch of six-year-olds. It then occurred to him that he was the same height. He looked down at himself, finding the body of his youth. It was strong and well-toned, and right away he could tell that he still had his augmentations, though toned down for a child.

When he looked around, he could tell that the vehicle had to be a spacecraft of some kind. There were handholds all over the interior of the ship, even on the sides and roof. Also, the straps were suited for securing someone in zero-g. He looked around, taking in the other children. Some were talking amongst themselves, while others just observed the world around them.

He drank in whatever tactical information he could. How to undo the straps securing him quickly, were all the handholds were, which children would be a problem in a fight, which ones wouldn't. There were a total of twenty children, and each wore a single-piece uniform.

For the most part, the boys were horse playing with each other. He then noticed one boy who was not. He had short brown hair, blue eyes, and a serious face. He was examining the seat straps when an officer entered the compartment.

"Oh, already figured it out." The man was standing on one of the many ladders on the shuttle. John noticed his name tag said Graff.

"Coming with us?" Inquired the boy.

"I don't usually come down for recruiting. I'm kind of in charge there. Administrator of the school. Like a principal. They told me I had to come back of I'd loose my job."

They boy smiled at the man and relaxed. The Chief watched the interaction with interest. So we're going to some kind of orbital school?

Some adults came around and checked the straps on the children, helping those that hadn't figured it out. A woman came to him and smiled when she saw that he had done the harness properly. He just looked back with a blank, emotionless face. Her smile faltered, and she moved on.

After that, a film started on where they were going. He stored all of the information away, the film was highly educational. The dates in the film preceded any dates of humanity leaving Earth. There had been alien contact before the Covenant. The only explanations that he could think of involved an alternate timeline, alternate universe, or he was in a coma and dreaming of la-la land. He wanted to believe the last option, but it felt too real. He would have had to bet on the alternate timeline. As for the "BattleSchool" though, his experience could make this a cakewalk. Though, I'd better hide that. He glanced around at the other children. A six-year-old with war training and years of experience will draw attention.

Eventually they took off. There was a little turbulence, but it was better than a Pelican. Then, the gravity faded. He was hanging by the straps that held him in place. The other boys were struggling, their orientation missing and stomachs bunching. He noticed the serious kid looked relatively at ease, as if the change in gravity hadn't affected him. In fact, he looked fascinated by it.

There was the sound of shoes on metal, and he looked to see Graff climbing down the ladder on the "floor". Suddenly, he hooked his foot on a rung, and flipped himself upright. One boy gagged, but didn't puke. The Chief realized that they must not have eaten before leaving.

John then realized that the serious boy was grinning from ear to ear, with his head tilted to the side, slightly.

"What do you think is so funny, Wiggin?" Graff barked at the boy.

The boy-Wiggin-snapped his head upright, and the smile vanished.

"I asked you a question, solider!" Graff sounded angry, but the Chief saw through it. He looked regretful, though it was hidden behind a mask.

"Yes sir."

"Well answer it, then!"

"I thought of you hanging upside down by your feet. I thought it was funny."

Graff glared at the Wiggin boy. "To you I suppose it is funny. Is it funny to anybody else here?"

There were murmurs of no. The Chief didn't find it funny, but he admired the kid for thinking in zero-gee already. It bespoke of intuition and an open mind.

"Well why isn't it?" Graff paused, looking at the children like a drill sergeant looks at his new trainees. "Scum-brains, that's what we've got in this launch. Pinheaded little morons. Only one of you had the brains to realize that in null gravity directions are what you conceive them to be. Do you understand that, Shafts?"

Shafts nodded, however the Chief doubted he could apply that information.

"No you didn't. Of course you didn't. Not only stupid, but a liar too. There's only one boy on this launch with any brains at all, and that's Ender Wiggin. Take a good look at him, little boys. He's going to be a commander when you're still in diapers up there. Because he knows how to think in null gravity, and you just want to throw up."

The Chief tuned the rest of his speech out. He could see the tactic of isolating the boy right away. Why would he be doing that? Having a cohesive unit that worked seamlessly together was the key to success. It pushed the team and individuals further than if they had been alone. It made no sense to him. Then again, I am in what appears to be a different timeline-that or hallucinating, so who knows.

Suddenly, Graff flipped around and pulled himself into his seat in the cockpit.

The Chief leaned back in his seat, prepared to get some sleep on the ride. Before he could close his eyes, he noticed one of the boys whispering to Ender. Ender didn't reply.

"Oh, won't talk to me?" The boy had a note of malice in his voice.

"I didn't ask him to say that stuff," Ender murmured.

The boy had undone his belts-not a good idea-and was hitting Ender over the head. The Chief decided to intervene.

"Stop that." His voice was deep for a six-year-old, but was high-pitched from what he was used too.

The boy sneered at him before hitting Ender over the head again. The others started throwing insults, and Ender cried out softly with pain as another blow was struck. The Chief had had enough. He started to undo his harness, just as Ender reached up.

He caught the boy's arm in his flowered hands, and yanked down hard. Ender had forgotten about the null gravity, and the boy went flying over his head. He bounced off the ceiling, against a boy in his seat, tumbled into an isle, and slammed into a bulkhead, left arm twisting unnaturally underneath.

The Chief strapped himself back in. Idiot, the straps are there for a reason. Graff came out of the front and grabbed the boy. "Left arm. Broken, I think." Another man drugged the boy and put a splint around the arm. He noticed that Ender looked pale.

Graff turned to them. "What are you, slow learners? In your feeble little minds, haven't you picked up one little fact? You were brought here to be soldiers. In you old schools, in your old families, maybe…

The Chief tuned out the rest, leaning his head back against the seat. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift into a light sleep. He would wake at the slightest provocation, so he wouldn't miss the landing.

He awoke when the ship jolted into the dock. With a few deft movements, he expertly undid his straps. However, he waited to be the last out. He was right after Ender, whom seemed to be lagging as well. He waited as Ender talked to the adults, and then moved on. Then he moved up to them.

He turned to glare darkly at them. He held eye contact for a second, then he strode off with Graff and Anderson (he had seen the man's name badge) staring after him. Normally he wouldn't have done that, but these kids were impressionable. And if he remembered correctly from his younger years, children held grudges longer than adults. He didn't want them to cause problems that a bunch of kids weren't equipped to handle.

Now, how in Hell am I supposed to get home.