Halo: Weaponship

by Nomanisat

A team of elite ODSTs retrieve an ONI AI from deep behind Covenant lines on an embattled human world, who reveals the existence of a Forerunner weapon of great power, which could alter the balance of power in favour of humanity. Please leave comments

October 23, 2548, 0431 Hours (Local), Van Buren's Reach, Sigma Prime system, colony world Prosperity, Nomanisat City, outskirts of Old Quarter.

Mission Record Play-Back Commences –

First Lieutenant Jean-Michel Rénoir, of the 105th Orbital Drop Shock Trooper regiment stood by the open door at the back of his team's insertion craft, looking out over the darkened countryside as it passed under them. It was a perfect moonless night, a true rarity on a planet with two moons. In fact, when Jean-Michel had started reading his background briefs prior to departing, he found that only 13 of the planet's 426 day year had no moon.

The darkness was perfect for their op, when combined with the stealth features of their D77H-SIC (Stealth Infiltration Craft), would make it almost impossible to detect their approach.

At 32, Jean-Michel had been fighting for almost half of his life, having risen through the ranks from a raw recruit at the age of 18, through to his commission in 2543. Jean-Michel had fighting in his blood, a descendant of a line long known for its military service. Besides himself, his 2 brothers, father, 3 uncles, an aunt, his mother and an inordinate number of cousins were all enlisted members of the UNSC. Both of his grandfathers and grandmothers had served with distinction. The Rénoirs had been providing the UNSC with warriors for nearly 6 generations. He had a ancestor who fought in the French Resistance during World War II, another who was a general in Napoleon's Imperial Guard.

Like nearly everyone in his family, Jean-Michel attended the prestigious St. Cyr military academy in France, a school whose history stretched back nearly 700 years. Upon graduation in 2534, Jean-Michel spent seven years in the marines, fighting against the Covenant and the Insurrectionists. He earned numerous citations and awards for bravery, as well as several letters of commendation.

Jean-Michel became intimately aware of how badly the war against the Covenant was going. In 2537 his younger brother Remy was killed during a counter-attack against the Covenant in the Regent star cluster, his uncle in 2538 during a general retreat from a Covenant fleet in the Temperance system.

In 2541 Jean-Michel's squad was on an op with a team of ODST operatives tasked with infiltrating a Covenant refueling depot in orbit around a large gas giant. The mission was a disaster: the strike team was detected on its approach to the station. Half of the team's SOEIVs were shot down with pulse-laser fire before even reaching the station; many more were killed by Covenant soldiers waiting for them at the landing bays.

The ODST commanding officer was killed during the approach, his executive officer in the firefight in the hanger bays, leaving Jean-Michel the highest ranking member of the team still alive. Jean-Michel rallied the surviving UNSC soldiers and managed to fight their way to the station's reactor and rig it to explode, the surviving troopers escaping in a commandeered Phantom dropship.

None of this escaped the notice of the ODST brass. Jean-Michel would later find out the surviving ODSTs of his mission went back to their unit amazed, telling tails of some jarhead sergeant rallying his troopers and leading a head-long charge against the Covenant position. None of these tails made it to Jean-Michel, and so was suitably worried when a pair of grim, silent ODSTs grabbed him when he was walking through the mess hall one day. They told him that the ODST CO wanted to talk about what happened during the op.

Jean-Michel thought he was going to be chewed out for having the audacity to order around ODSTs. Instead, the major kindly ushered Jean into his office and told him to sit down. They talked for a few minutes, and Jean found out the major had served with one of his uncles many years back.

Abruptly the major's manor changed, becoming brusque and business-like. He asked Jean-Michel what he wanted to do and where he saw his career leading. He then told Jean-Michel that in no uncertain terms that he wanted him in the ODST. He told Jean-Michel that he had been under observation as a possible candidate for the ODSTs, and his performance on this mission had confirmed the ODST had made the right choice.

Jean-Michel was promoted on the spot, and told that, if he was willing, a transport would be departing the following morning with a number of other ODST candidates, and the major would really like him to be on it. And so the following morning found Jean-Michel standing in the pouring rain with his gear at five in the morning, waiting for a bus to take him to the airport.

The craft his a small patch of rough air, buffeting the craft slightly. Jean-Michel reluctantly stepped away from the cool breezes coming in from the rear ramp. The SIC might be stealthy, but the crew paid the price. The need to minimize external heat radiation often meant that the interior could become stifling. The five other members of his group sat silently behind him, each alone with their thoughts.

Jean-Michel carefully studied the other members of his team, trying to gage the level of tension on this mission.

Directly across from Jean-Michel's seat was his executive officer and the team's designated markswomen, 28 year-old 2nd Lieutenant Mai Wou Chen. Predictably, she was doing what Jean-Michel had forgotten to do; re-reading the mission data on her TACPAD. Mai was the model of efficiency and dedication, the perfect soldier. She was Jean-Michel's right hand, foreseeing requirements and accomplishing tasks often before Jean-Michel issued the order.

Mai's dark brown eyes studied her information with a laser-like focus. Mai applied this intensity to every aspect of her missions, from prep to debrief. Other people often found her intensity intimidating, but the members of Operation Group Theta found comfort in it, knowing no detail would go overlooked with her on the case.

Mai hadn't always been like this. She and her older sister Sai had been born in the sprawling lunar colony of New Peking, one of the oldest off-earth human settlements in the UNSC. New Peking was terribly overcrowded, three million people crowded into a circular habitat 3km across. Mai's parents were hard working people. They both worked a number of jobs to keep a roof over their head, and as result Mai and her sister raise themselves in their absence.

Both Mai and her sister enlisted as a way to escape the crush and dead-end future of New Peking, Mai joining the Marines and Sai enlisting in the Navy. After she completed her basic training and infantry school, Private 1st Class Mai Wou Chen was assigned to the 242nd Marine regiment and stationed on Tribute. Her fitness and aptitude scores from this period show her to be a competent, if average, soldier. Her technical scores were good but not exceptional; she followed orders well and knew her job but showed little initiative.

This all changed in 2539. Then-19 year old Mai had been in the marines for just over a year when she received devastating news. Her sister Sai had been killed by the Covenant when the destroyer she served on, the Cortez, was lost defending the colony of Transition. Mai was devastated. She requested a leave of absence and returned to New Peking to console her parents and bury her sister. When she returned it was like she was a whole different person.

Her technical and aptitude scores improved dramatically. Gone was the happy, outgoing girl her friends remembered, replaced by a focused, serious professional soldier. She took every course and training session she could, attending as many conferences and seminars as her training schedule would allow. Within six months of returning she successfully applied to the ODST training center and was a member in under a year. She had completed 7 combat drops and reached the rank of 2nd lieutenant when she was recruited to Operation Group Theta in 2543, under the then-new 1st lieutenant Jean-Michel Rénoir.

As the team's DM, Mai carried a Designated Marksmen's Rifle, or DRM, in place of the MA5 or M7S that most of the other team members carried. Not a true sniper rifle, the DMR is a MA5 that was singled out during manufacturing for its exceptional accuracy. The weapon's protective shrouding is reduced to lighten the weapon, the barrel is extended, the bolt is modified to allow only single-round, semi-auto fire and a 4x scope is attached to the top. It allows an operations group to hit targets up to 800 meters away.

Jean-Michel shifted his gaze to the massive trooper sitting beside her. That was Sergeant Major Patrick Evans, the squad's armed medic. He was busy rooting through a large black duffel bag set between his feet, mumbling to himself. Like all ODSTs Patrick carried a weapon, in this case a M7S silenced SMG, along with the standard M6SOCOM pistol all ODSTs carried. Medics usually got assigned to their role because they were pacifists or conscientious objectors and didn't want to kill people, but very few people had a problem killing Covenant.

In place of a specialist weapon Patrick carried a large black duffel, known to medical techs as an Emergency Trauma Supply Kit (ETSK), but known to frontline troops as the happy sack for the copious amount of narcotics it contains; these bags carry all the supplies necessary to stabilize a critically wounded soldier in preparation for evac.

Patrick, at 47, was over twice the average age of an ODST, but Jean had seen him run troopers half his age into the ground. Known as "papa doc" to the other troopers due to his age and profession, Patrick was essential to the squad's success. He was also easy to understand. Other members in the group might have been motivated by duty, honour or patriotism, Patrick was driven by cold, seething revenge.

Patrick was born on Madrigal, one of the larger settlements in the Outer Colonies, and only a few light-years away from Harvest. Born to rich parents Patrick attended the best schools money could buy, and was sent to the Madrigal School for Medical Science, one of the preeminent medical schools in the UNSC

In 2524 Patrick was 24 and had just completed medical school. His parents had gotten him a job at the Richard H. Adaeo Preventative Medical Center, the most exclusive clinic on Madrigal, the body shop to the stars. He quickly established himself as an up and comer in both the medical and social scene of Madrigal.

Patrick's meteoric rise was abruptly cut short in 2526. The Covenant, fresh from the destruction of Harvest, traced the paths of the automated freighters leaving Harvest back to Madrigal. News of the existence of the Covenant had been ruthlessly suppressed by ONI in the months following the destruction of Harvest, and the people of Madrigal were caught unaware. The CMA troops stationed on the planet fought bravely to defend the citizens as they evacuated, but were quickly overwhelmed and only a small percentage of the population escaped.

Patrick escaped, but his entire family and most of his friends were killed. Patrick himself was horribly burned when the transport he was on got hit by a plasma torpedo from a Covenant ships in orbit as they tried to escape. The ship barely made it into Slipspace before its fusion plant failed, trapping the ship in Slipspace. Despite his injuries, Patrick reported to the ship's medical office. He was credited with saving the lives of 12 fellow refugees, operating for 15 hours straight in the most primitive conditions imaginable before passing out from exhaustion.

The crew managed to repair the powerplant through a Herculean effort, and the ship limped into orbit around Reach. Patrick was transferred to a hospital in New Alexandria, where he spent nearly a year, receiving nano therapy, clone skin grafts and weeks of traction therapy and rehabilitation.

Upon his recovery, Pat immediately enlisted in the UNSC, desperate for any chance to get back at the Covenant. With his credentials and experience Pat could have gotten a soft post at any UNSC navel hospital or treatment facility he wanted. But Pat wanted a chance to hurt the Covenant, and he couldn't do that from the rear. He enlisted as a raw recruit and chose to be a medic.

His medical training exempted him from the first aid and casualty support portions of training, so he finished his basic training and was assigned to active duty in 7 months. Since then he had fought more battles against the Covenant then almost any human alive, from 2527 to 2536, during which time he tried and failed 3 separate times to join the ODST before eventually being admitted.

He'd survived the glassing of four worlds and had twice been the only member of his unit to survive an op. Other ODST's began to joke he must be a Spartan, to which Pat usually responded by stating that his medical training gave him a unique insight into causing injuries as well as treating them.

Beside Jean-Michel sat Gunnery Sergeant Hassan Ibn Fahad, the team's demolitions expert. Hassan's helmet blocked all internal sounds, but by the way he was nodding his head and drumming on his thigh, Jean could tell he was going through his usual pre-mission ritual of listening to Flip music at incredible volume.

Hassan was living proof that, given enough time, push-ups and swearing, the army can turn even the most hopeless cases into productive and efficient soldiers.

At 24, Hassan was about the average age for an ODST, but Jean-Michel knew he had seen more combat then many officers, although much of it wasn't with the military.

Hassan had a tumultuous childhood to say the least. Born on Reach, his parents separated when he was 6, his father declaring he hated his mother and storming out, Hassan never seeing him again. Despondent, Hassan's mother began a slow, malignant spiral into depression, drug use and alcoholism. As a result, Hassan was pretty much on his own.

Hassan had already racked up an impressive number of petty crime and misdemeanor charges before he graduated into more serious incidents when he joined a street gang and began smuggling and making drugs, pulling armed robberies and engaging in turf wars with rival gangs. Hassan honed his fighting skills in the brutal back alleys and side streets of New Alexandria.

At seventeen Hassan's criminal career came to a sudden and violent end. His gang botched an attempt to rob an armoured car making a delivery of platinum to one of the largest banks on Reach. In the ensuing shootout two security guards and 4 gang members were killed. Hassan, as the most junior gang member, was acting as wheelman. Together with the surviving robbers he fled the scene, but was caught and arrested within two weeks.

Charged with accessory to murder, the judge at Hassan's trial gave him two options: go to jail for a very long time and in all likelihood get killed by a rival gang member while inside, or join the army. The war against the Covenant was not going well and the UNSC needed every body it could get. Hassan readily agreed, thinking he could escape later.

But much to his surprise, when Hassan arrived at boot camp and began his training, he found he enjoyed it. The army provided the direction and discipline he'd been lacking, while at the same time nurturing his talent for fighting and destruction. A few incidents with his drill instructors and CO's early on notwithstanding, Hassan proved to be an excellent solider, with a particular talent for demolition. His drill sergeants also complimented him on his excellent, if unorthodox, close-combat combat skills.

Hassan's skill and enthusiasm for blowing things up did not go unnoticed, and he was quickly earmarked as someone with ODST potential. After completing his entrance requirements, the ODSTs introduced Hassan to an entirely new level of government-sanctioned destruction and mayhem. One of his first missions involved planting four hundred kilos of high explosive on a Covenant cruiser, unknowingly in orbit over a hidden ONI facility. Hassan filmed the resulting explosion with his mission recorder and would still try to show the pictures to other team members, not understanding they didn't share his enthusiasm for blowing things up.

For this op Hassan had to leave the majority of his high-explosive toys back at base. Destructive as they may be, they weren't particularly suited to stealth insertions. As it was, Hassan had to be happy with a couple of frag grenades, and even then only if their cover got blown. Besides his grenades Hassan carried an M90 Tactical Shotgun and an M6-SOCOM silenced pistol.

Sitting beside Pat on the opposite side of the craft was Staff Sergeant Abdi Usawei, one of the team's shooters, quietly reading a book on his TACPAD. At 23 years old, Abdi could not have been farther from the stereotypical image most people have about ODSTs. Ask your average civilian what they thought an ODST was like, and you'll invariably get the same answer: muscle bound, hyper aggressive psychos, positively oozing testosterone and confidence, yet barely smart enough to lace their boots correctly in the morning.

Abdi could not have been farther from this image. While it's true he was muscular, there's no such thing as an out-of-shape ODST, Abdi was quiet and well mannered. He also had an IQ of 143 and had placed first at some of the most prestigious schools on Mars.

Abdi joined the armed forces to escape the legacy of his family. Born on Mars, Abdi was the oldest son of Kago Usawei, one of the most powerful men on the planet. The Usaweis were one of the oldest families on Mars, direct descendants of the original colonists who landed on the planet back in the late 21st century, over 400 years before.

Abdi was born into a life of privilege and ease. As the oldest son, it was taken for granted he would one day inherit the leadership of the family from his father when Kago stepped down. The Usaweis were one of the three richest and most powerful families on Mars, owning nearly all of the planet's heavy cargo transports and much of the farm machinery manufacturing facilities.

Martian politics were dominated by the richest, or "noble," families on the planet. While nominally a democracy like all the UNSC, every candidate who ran for office had to enjoy the patronage of one of the noble families if they wanted any chance of getting anywhere. The families therefore all ran candidates against each other, because if their candidates were elected they could be used to further the aims of the candidate's patron family, often at the expense of one of the other families.

In public the families put on masks of friendliness and civility towards each other, their efforts to outdo each other with displays of public benevolence seen as a friendly rivalry. Behind closed doors however, this pleasant image disintegrated into a Machiavellian world of betrayal, scandal, intrigue, blackmail, and in more than a few cases assassination or kidnap.

It was this dark and sinister world that Abdi was born into. He grew up intimately familiar with the danger that accompanied being the heir apparent to one of the richest and most powerful families on the planet. His life was constantly framed by an entourage of grim faced body guards, all hand picked from members of a lesser family that had been allied with the Usaweis for nearly two hundred years. These men accompanied Abdi everywhere he went from the time he was born until the time he ran away.

By the time Abdi was 12 he had survived two attempts on his life, once when an assassin from another family infiltrated the Usawei compound to poison him, another by a car bomb planted by a trusted family servant. Each incident precipitated a wave of revenge killings as the Usaweis struck back at the would-be killers.

In preparation for the day when Abdi would take over the family empire, he was sent to some of the most renowned schools on Mars, as well as having the best tutors and mentors money could buy. He was educated in every topic imaginable, from economics and business to art and philosophy, all to turn him into the perfect leader and businessman, ready to lead the family into a new golden age.

There was only one problem: Abdi wanted nothing to do with the family or his legacy. As he grew up, he learned to despise everything about the position he was to inherit and the corrupt system that allowed it to continue. He watched as a family would run a candidate on a platform of helping the poor, to the praise and delight of the public, while at the same time strike backroom deals to lower minimum wage or demolish public housing. How a families would have scholarships and bursaries named in their honour while at the same time getting funding cut to schools in areas not under their sphere of influence.

As Abdi got older, the arguments he got into with his father over his future increased, both in volume and frequency. They invariably ended with one of them storming off, Abdi telling his father it wasn't over and Kago telling him he didn't want to hear any more about it. It was at the age of 17 that Abdi decided talking with his father wasn't going to get him anywhere, that he would have to take things upon himself.

In the months leading up to his 18th birthday, Abdi began planning his escape from the Usawei compound and the Usawei family. He would need to leave Mars, nowhere on the red planet was safe for him, his families' influence was too great, their spies too plentiful. Likewise he couldn't use civilian transports to leave, his father would know and send his men to stop him. To further complicate matters, Abdi had to do all his planning and scheming without attracting the notice of his father or his own bodyguards.

The night Abdi turned 18 he put his plan into action. He put his bodyguards out of commission with a subtly applied dose of anesthetic to their celebratory birthday drinks, overcoming their normally strict no-drinking policy. With his guards out of commission, Abdi quietly snuck out of the family compound and, taking one of the family's vehicles, made for the nearby city of Olympus.

Ditching the car, which could be easily traced, Abdi set out on foot for the UNSC military base on the far outskirts of the city. Abdi had long decided that he was going to enlist. Besides having the practical benefits this allowed, namely off-world transport and protection from his father's reach, Abdi felt that serving the people of the UNSC would be a just penance, atonement for the crimes of his family. Melodramatic perhaps, but the best option considering the circumstances.

Abdi had been in communication with a UNSC recruiter in the months beforehand, but had only used his first name. So when he walked into the recruitment office, told the sergeant at the front desk he was Abdi Usawei and he wanted to enlist, on the condition he got shipped off-world immediately, the desk sergeant was surprised to say the least. Their had been no question of enlisting under another name, the standard physical that all recruits receive when they enlist included a DNA registry analysis, meant to root out potential problems; people with criminal histories or known Insurrectionist ties.

Abdi had expected a huge upheaval when he had left, and was mildly surprised to find that nobody seemed to notice. He had underestimated the cunning of his father. Kago had realized that letting the world know that his son, the heir to the Usawei family, had rejected his legacy and snuck off in the middle of the night would cause great harm to the family's reputation. So, aside from saying that Abdi was attending a fancy graduate school off-world, there was no mention. Abdi had no doubts that his father's plans had simply been transferred to the next child in line, his brother Vahn.

Abdi served 2 years as an enlisted man before qualifying for ODST training. Upon completion, he was assigned to operation group theta, under Jean-Michel. Abdi was a competent shooter, but his greatest strength was his ability to see a big picture from only a tiny glimpse of it. When planning ops, Jean-Michel and Mai would use these abilities to try to plan for the unseen; where would you be if this were you; what kind of defenses would you use?

Staff Sergeant Karl Dietrich, the team's tech specialist and the final member of Operations Group Theta, sat at the front of the Pelican, reclined back, and his feet resting up on the empty seats towards the bow. Although he gave every appearance of being asleep, Jean-Michel knew he simply liked to quietly concentrate before missions. The rest of the team had long since learned it was best to leave him alone when he was like this. Any interruptions were met with a torrent of swears and curses.

Karl was a strange one, Jean-Michel thought. At 22 he was the youngest member of the unit, but he had more experience fighting the Covenant then many staff officers.

The reason for this was simple: Karl had been born on one of the Jovian moons, in his case Ganymede, and his unit was based in the Jovian moons. As a result, they often drew the worst, most dangerous assignments there were, which frequently involved fighting the Covenant. Units from the Jovian moons had a 300% greater casualty rate then those units based elsewhere.

To be born on the Jovian moons was to be born with a stigma; at least as far as the UNSC armed forces were concerned. In the mid-22nd century the newly-formed UNSC was embroiled in a brutal three-way war with the neo-communist Koslovics and the neo-fascist Friedens who formed in response. Both groups had their roots in colonies on the Jovian moons. Acts of rebellion by the Koslovics and reprisals by the Friedens escalated into full-blown conflict with the newly-created United Nations Space Command, formed from the remnants of various Earth nations in response to the extra-planetary threat.

The conflict would go to last 10 years, spanning the length of the Sol system, eventually culminating with the surrender of the Koslovics and Friedens in the Treaty of Callisto in 2170. The terrible nature of the conflict was recorded in the famous book A Soldier's War: Rainforest Wars, a personnel account of the fighting in Venezuela early in the war.

Many Earth-born UNSC officers still resented the Jovian colonies and their citizens even 500 years later. Some had ancestors who had been killed. While officially all UNSC citizens were born equal no matter where they were born or the political affiliation of their ancestors, it was a well-known if unofficial rule that if you were born on a Jovian colony you got the shit details.

Prior to the outbreak of the Human-Covenant war this usually only amounted to having to do more mess and latrine rotations then other soldiers. With the out break of the war Jovian units found themselves in the thick of the fighting. Karl's unit fought to retake Harvest, and was later assigned to the renowned Admiral Preston Cole's fleet during its campaigns in the Outer Colonies…

Jean-Michel's thoughts were interrupted by a muted tone emanating from his helmet on the seat nearby.

Jean-Michel slid the helmet over his head with a small click as the helmet sealed against the magnetic ring in his collar. The HUD flickered on as the helmet began to receive power from his suit's battery. The tone sounded again, this time accompanied by a small box on his HUD, displaying the signal's origin and encryption level.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice automatically opening the channel.

It was one of the pilots, members of the elite 1077th Airborne Special Operations regiment (ABSOs.) Known as the Absolutes because of their steadfast reliability, the Absolutes are experts at getting themselves and their passengers into areas they weren't welcome, and more impressively, getting them back out. Jean-Michel and his team often worked with them, each respecting the other's abilities.

"We're twenty minutes out; you guys better get sealed up back there." The co-pilot informed him.

"Acknowledged, out." Jean-Michel replied. He reached over and pressed a button near the back ramp. The door lifted up on silent hinges, closing with a faint hiss as the compartment sealed. A small fan in the ceiling began spinning, pumping air into the now-sealed compartment.

Jean-Michel brought up his TACPAD, a small personal data display system mounted on his right forearm. A few taps to the reinforced touch screen linked him into the SIC's local network, and then displayed the ship's projected course, shown as a small icon and a dotted line to their target. A small box by the icon representing the Pelican showed data about the craft's speed, course and altitude. Moving at only about 80 knots and skimming the surface of the planet to avoid detection by Covenant patrols and AA, twenty minutes meant they must be at about the city's outskirts.

Satisfied that they were on-track and on-schedule, Jean-Michel logged off the local net and accessed the background info on the planet he'd copied to finish reading before leaving.

Prosperity was first detected by radio telescope in the mid-twenty first century, but it wasn't visited by man until 2386, when an automated probe flew past and took a few cursory scans. Back then it had been known simply by its astronomical registry number, 45-7-3b

In 2397, the first prospectors from the Terrasyn Mineral Extraction Corporation arrived at 45-7-3b, where they discovered the planet contained an inordinate amount of titanium, an important component in the manufacturing of space vehicles and stations. Terrasyn immediately financed a small mining community and christened the planet Prosperity, due to its bountiful supply of titanium.

Prosperity is what's known as a corporate world, that is, one who's founding and development was funded by a private individual or company, as opposed to colonies founded by nation-states or other worlds. Because corporate worlds are founded using private capital, they have the right to set their own laws and rules, and it's in this that most problems start. It started innocently enough. Terrasyn recruited workers from other planets, who signed a one-year service contract. They would live on-site, living in company houses, eating at company cantinas, everything provided by the company. Initially all this was factored into the workers wages. They only paid for luxury items, all their basic needs provided by the company and offset by the profits the workers made.

But as time went on, the executives at Terrasyn realized they could vastly increase their profits by charging their workers upkeep. Initially they charged a reasonable rate, comparable to what they'd pay living in any other city, but as time went on the prices they charged climbed and climbed.

Eventually they got to the point where what the workers earned was less then what the company charged. They then had no choice but to go into debt to the company, every year sending them further and further down into financial servitude. The company ensured few could afford the cost of a ticket off-world, and so the workers were essentially enslaved to the company.

By 2514 entire generations had been born and died on Prosperity, spending their whole lives trying futilely to work off their debt to the company. The capital of Prosperity, Nomanisat City, was divided into two different worlds, the gleaming towers, plazas and concourses of the executive and manager's residences and workplaces in the downtown were surrounded by the sprawling slums and ghettos of the workers district in the Old Quarter, separated from each other by massive walls and an army of private security guards.

In this oppressive atmosphere it wasn't hard for the Insurrectionists to find a receptive ear, and soon Prosperity was one of the largest Innie recruitment and training centers known to exist. The years from 2514 to 2524 were marked with horrific rioting by the enraged workers and bloody reprisals by the company's hired thugs.

The deteriorating situation on Prosperity worried the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) enough to warrant setting up a covert observation post in Nomanisat City. A team of ONI agents was covertly inserted and set up an advanced listening and recon post in an old garage in the dilapidated Old Quarter, with instructions to monitor and sabotage local Insurrectionist forces anyway possible. The outpost served as a launch point for numerous covert strikes against the Insurrection.

All these petty struggles became mute when, in 2525, the Covenant began their war of extermination against humanity. The UNSC realized it would require an unprecedented number of ships if they ever hoped to defeat the Covenant. All of a sudden titanium went from a moderately expensive metal to one of the most important strategic materials in the galaxy, right up there with the materials required for Slipspace drives and AI matrices.

The UNSC wasn't worried about maintaining the profit margins of a third-rate minerals company; they were worried about an interruption in the flow of titanium to its shipyards, and took steps to ensure it wouldn't. The UNSC unilaterally nationalized Terrasyn, firing most of its corporate machinery and replacing them with officers from the UNSC Logistics corps. They absolved the workers of all their debts and granted them a 25% wage increase.

With the executives and managers who oppressed them gone, their debts wiped clean and their wages increased, support for the Insurrectionists evaporated seemingly overnight. The ONI listening station suddenly found itself out of a job. It was initially used as a data analysis station, but budget cuts and personnel requirements in other, more strategically important sectors reduced its staff until by 2548 there were only 5 agents stationed there, down from it's 2524 peak of nearly 60.

On October 10, 2548, UNSC remote listening station Panoply-7b detected a large mass traveling through Slipspace, on a course towards Sigma Prime. They soon detected multiple Slipspace transitions, and .37 minutes after detecting the anomaly all contact was abruptly cut off. Telemetry received from the outpost just prior to loss of contact recorded enormous increases in temperature, accompanied by massive EM spikes, indicative of Covenant plasma fire.

Word went out through UNSC priority channels: the Covenant was coming for Prosperity. FleetCom immediately began gathering assets to mount a defense of the colony. The Covenant fleet arrived on 17th of October, 4 frigates, 3 destroyers and a carrier.

There were 7 UNSC ships in the area at the time: the destroyers Hamarabi, Jonestown, Battle Song, and Falcon, the frigates Cuba and Flash of Brilliance, and the cruiser August. In the ensuing battle the Hamarabi, Jonestown, Battle Song, Falcon and Cuba were destroyed. The Flash of Brilliance managed to escape to Slipspace, but was caught by one of the Covenant destroyers and was destroyed out beyond the margins of the system. The August was heavily damage, losing approximately 75% of her crew, but managed to elude her pursuers and escape. The UNSC fleet did manage to destroy two frigates and one destroyer, as well as approximately 30 single ships of various makes.

The Covenant fleet took up position in high orbit over Prosperity and began to glass the outlying mining regions and settlements, taking care not to hit Nomanisat City for some reason. The bombardment killed nearly 1.6 million people. Afterwards the Covenant began to land troops around and inside Nomanisat City. The UNSC began a full-scale evacuation of the city, but between the Banshees, Covenant AA guns and the orbiting capital ships, only around 17% of the evac transports managed to escape. The local UNSC forces called a halt to the evac and began to gather the remaining civilians to secure points within the city.

The UNSC soldiers fought viciously, using every advantage the urban terrain gave them, hitting the Covenant forces hard and getting in close to prevent the Covenant from using their capitol ship's superior firepower. On the 22nd the ONI listening outpost sent out an emergency message, stating that the Covenant was advancing and the station was in danger of falling to the enemy, which, due to normal ONI paranoia, the UNSC command on Prosperity had no idea existed. The agents were scrubbing their data systems as fast as possible, but they were worried they wouldn't be finished in time. They requested a priority op to beat the Covenant to the outpost and ensure the data it contained. The UNSC immediately complied.

Jean-Michel and the other members of Operation Group Theta were on Reach when they were roughly awakened in the middle of the night and crowded into an empty conference room. They waited there for almost an hour, drinking terrible army coffee and trying to stay awake when a vice-admiral walked in, accompanied by an ONI colonel. The holographic projector in the table top flickered on, showing the UNSC insignia.

"On or about the 10th or October, a remote listening outpost in Van Buren's reach detected a large mass moving through Slipspace on a course towards our colony in the Sigma Prime system. Before the outpost could recover its probes for a more detailed evaluation, they detected a Slipspace transition 10,000 km from the station. Approximately half a minute later we lost contact with the station." The admiral briefed them. On the display table a box appeared showing the various data streams that the station had collected prior to going silent, with a large picture of an amorphous shape in the center. The computer then inserted various wire frame models of several Covenant vessel classes and overlaid them onto the image, revealing the composition of the enemy fleet.

Jean-Michel saw his team stiffen, all suddenly wide awake. They all knew what the likely cause of the station going offline was.

"On the 17th, a Covenant fleet composed of eight high-tonnage vessels transitioned into orbit near the planet Prosperity."

The display switched to a top down view of the space around Prosperity. A group of red icons was clustered on the edge of the planet's gravity well. A group of green icons in orbit around the planet broke orbit and gathered together before heading towards the Covenant fleet.

"The UNSC had 7 ships in the system to defend the planet," the admiral said, indicating the green icons on the map.

The ONI colonel reached over and activated a series of buttons on a console set into the edge of the table. The tactical chatter of the UNSC fleet began playing through speakers in the ceiling. "These recordings were made by an ONI prowler hidden behind one of Prosperity's moons. This data's classified, so don't go spreading it around."

The two groups of icons grew closer and closer. The recorded chatter was calm and professional; the ships were co-coordinating firing solutions for their MAC guns. A series of dotted orange lines traced from the UNSC ships towards two of the Covenant ships, showing their firing solutions. They heard Rear Admiral William Seamus, commander of the UNSC fleet; give the order to fire, and the orange lines turned red. One of the red icons stopped moving, another slowed to a crawl. A series of curved blue lines arced out from the UNSC fleet, representing the paths of the fleet's Archer missiles.

The blue streaks swarmed around the two wounded Covenant ships. The immobilized ship's icon faded away, but the crippled ship survived the barrage. There were cheers and congratulations on the UNSC radio channels. R. Admiral Seamus began issuing orders for the next round of MAC targets.

Just then, a series of smaller purple icons detached themselves from the Covenant ships and began charging towards the UNSC fleet. The tone of the audio recordings changed instantly, many voices calling desperately for evasive maneuvers, some even calling for retreat. Seamus' gruff bass voice broke through the panic, ordering his ships to hold position to fire.

Once again the orange lines traced between the two fleets. Two were targeted against the crippled ship, the remainder against one single ship at the fore of the Covenant fleet. The lines flashed red once again and the two targeted icons disappeared. Seamus' voice boomed over the channels, ordering the fleet to scatter.

The small icons representing the Covenant plasma torpedoes caught up with the scattering UNSC fleet. 5 of the green icons disappeared instantly. The comm. channel was filled with screams for help, the overall volume becoming quieter with each disappearing dot. One of the dots managed to make a break for it, with one of the Covenant ships in hot pursuit. The icon representing the cruiser August took a plasma torpedo but wasn't destroyed. The voices on the audio log from the August's auxiliary bridge were almost impossible to hear over the blaring alarms and sirens. Jean-Michel heard someone say that Admiral Seamus was dead. The cruiser managed to escape to the edge of the system.

"The fleet sustained heavy losses, and was unable to stop the Covenant fleet," the vice-admiral added unnecessarily. The August made it back to Reach, but took heavy damage and lost nearly 80% of her crew.

The remainder of the Covenant fleet moved towards the planet, one of the ships staying behind in the debris field. Jean-Michel knew what they were doing: searching the wreckage for any human survivors. He felt sick. Each of those icons had represented hundreds of human lives. He looked over at his team. On the outside they were pictures of calm, but he could tell by their tensed jaws, and clenched fists that they were furious.

"After the Covenant finished with our fleet, their surviving ships positioned themselves in high orbit and began their plasma bombardment," the vice-admiral told them, indicating the table top screen. The view had closed in to now show just the planet. The icons representing the 5 remaining Covenant ships hovered over the larger population centers. The recording switched into a time-lapse setting. The team watched as dozens of the small purple icons representing plasma torpedoes rained down on the planet's surface. Soon large clouds of smoke began to obscure vast tracts of the planet's surface. Patches of glowing red and orange were visible beneath the roiling clouds.

"We have no hard data," the ONI officer said, "but rough estimates on terrestrial casualties are in the area of 1.5 million."

Abdi's brow furrowed slightly, as though he'd noticed something off. He reached over and pointed at a metropolitan area around the equator. Many smoke trails drifted up from the city, but it had so far escaped complete destruction. The large Covenant carrier was orbiting directly overhead.

"Why haven't the Covenant glassed this city?" Abdi asked the colonel.

"I was just getting to that," the colonel responded. "On the 22nd of October we received a Priority 1 flash communication from our listening post in the city's Old Quarter. They reported Covenant ground forces were landing all around the city. UNSC forces were engaging, and seemed to be holding them off."

At that point the colonel reached over and tapped a button on the holographic display. Again the display zoomed in, until it was showing a satellite image of a section of the city, taken with a resolution of around 10 meters.

"That was the last message we received from the listening post," the vice-admiral informed them. "All attempts to hail them failed, and we haven't received any replies from the outpost's automated systems. That station held a vast amount of terribly sensitive data; planet locations, communication encryptions, fleet locations, the damage this data could cause is incalculable. The officers stationed there have standing orders to destroy any data they have in the event of Covenant contact. They may have wiped the data, but to be absolutely sure they were to set charges and level the outpost."

The vice-admiral took a deep breath. "That hasn't happened. What little satellite data we've received since the flash call shows the structure to be intact. The techs inside have probably wiped all the data storage drives, but we don't know what Covenant data restoration tech might be able to reclaim. We can't take that risk. We think that the Covenant detected their warning and are trying to find the outpost. That's why they haven't glassed the city yet."

"We tried to organize a strike against the outpost with the UNSC forces on the ground, but they were unable to reach the station, which is apparently behind Covenant lines. They were also quite surprised to find out that such an outpost existed. Apparently ONI forgot to tell the local command officers," the vice-admiral paused briefly to shoot a withering glance at the ONI colonel.

"They tried to knock out the outpost with an air strike, but the strike craft were shot down before they reached their target, expending a large portion of their remaining air power in the attempt. These guys are stretched to the limit, and it's going to take another 4 days at the earliest before any reinforcements get there, we can't ask them to try again."

"So we're fighting this one for them?" Pat asked

"HighCom has ordered us to retake Prosperity. Besides being vital for its manufacturing and titanium, fighting on the ground is about the only way we can take on the Covenant and win. They don't choose to do it often, and we want to know why. As we speak HighCom is gathering an invasion force from the surrounding systems to take it back."

"In fact," the vice-admiral said quietly, a small smile flickering across his features, "rumour has it that HighCom has decided that taking back Prosperity is important enough to send Spartans"

"So the brass is sending in the pretty boys? Big deal." Hassan scoffed. Like most ODSTs, Hassan thought the Spartans were a bunch of prima donnas, and, given the same equipment and funding, any ODST could do what they did.

Jean-Michel silenced any further comments with a stern glance. He too had once thought they were just a bunch of freaks the tech weenies at ONI had cooked up, a failed experiment, wasting money and resources that could have been better served if they had been distributed to the conventional military.

Until he actually encountered a Spartan, during the siege of Manzinita. His unit was pinned down in a large open concourse, a unit of Covenant Grunts and Elites raining plasma fire and needler rounds down on them. The proximity of the enemy forces ruled out an airstrike or artillery barrage. Jean-Michel had fatalistically resigned himself to death when he became dimly aware of a green streak hurtling past his unit's position.

Jean-Michel stuck his head up over the concrete planter he was crouching behind to watch the action. It was like nothing he had ever seen. The Spartan was an artist, the battlefield his medium. He dispatched the Grunts almost as an afterthought, merely obstacles to overcome on his way to the Elites. Nothing could stop him. When his weapons went empty, he simply grabbed one from the nearest Covenant soldier and kept on killing. He moved with the ruthless efficiency of a natural predator, a primal hunter, reminding Jean of vids he'd seen as a child of the large predatory cats on Earth.

In what seemed like seconds it was over, the Spartan standing alone spattered with gore among the bodies of his enemies. A few of Jean-Michel's men stepped out from hiding, the braver ones taking a few tentative steps towards the armoured giant. The Spartan calmly collected his weapons from where they had fallen and reloaded them. He turned towards the dazed soldiers and gave them a single nod. Then he turned and took off, his armoured boots digging chunks out of the concrete surface, sending up a spray of dust and debris.

"Where do we fit in sir? Jean-Michel asked, steering the briefing back on topic.

The vice-admiral tapped the display controls once again. The picture of the planet disappeared, replaced with a rotating scale model of a UNSC frigate.

"As soon as this briefing concludes, you and your team will board the fast frigate Aeolus and depart for Prosperity, ahead of the main fleet. Once there, the Aeolus will remain in cover behind the planet's moon, away from the Covenant; she's just a frigate, and an old one at that, she hasn't got the stomach for ship to ship fighting. You will then be inserted into the city's Old Quarter, via a stealth infiltration craft. Once you are in the city, you will make your way to the ONI listening post, copy any surviving data, upload a virus to the network, and destroy the facility."

"If we're going to blow up the LP, why do we have to bother with uploading viral data scavengers?" Abdi asked.

"The reasons for the viral upload are two-fold," the ONI colonel explained. "First, the virus had been encoded to spread out from the listening post into any network it can get into, in order to wipe any sensitive data that might exist on other networks. Second, the virus has been padded with camouflage data packets. We're hoping that the Covenant will upload it into their systems from another location in an attempt to locate more colonies. Once inside the Covenant data networks, ideally the virus will spread and cause as much damage as possible. It's also been programmed to beam the contents of any Covenant databanks to an ONI prowler waiting in deep space for just such an event."

The ONI colonel walked around the table and passed a small data transfer module to Jean-Michel. A small piece of paper was taped to the top of it, with several strings of numbers written on it.

"This module contains the data virus, as well as a number of intrusion protocols that should allow you access to the main directories if you encounter any trouble. We can't access the databases remotely, and in any case most of the data on the systems is classified above your clearances. The codes on the paper should give you maintenance access to upload data, but not view anything on the system."

Jean-Michel wordlessly took the module and passed it to Karl, who gave it a cursory glance before placing it in a pouch on his chest.

"Any further orders, sir?" Jean asked the vice-admiral.

"We don't expect any of the ONI agents to be alive, but if any are, they MUST be taken with you. If for some reason you can't they must not fall into Covenant hands." The ONI colonel told them, giving everyone a significant glance. "The information they could divulge would be just as damaging as the data stored in the outpost. Hopefully their cover held and the Covenant believed them to be nothing more than civilians."

"What kind of support options will we have for this mission sir?" Mai asked the vice-admiral.

"Once you're there it will be limited to the resources of the Aeolus, and anything you can beg, borrow or steal from the local UNSC. The Aeolus is already fitted out for covert ops from her previous mission, and you'll have access to any equipment you need here on Reach, so get what you need and get moving quick." He replied. "And good luck," he added.

36 hours later found the members of Operations Group Theta onboard the Aeolus, hurtling towards Prosperity through the non-dimensionality of Shaw-Fujikawa non-Newtonian space. Quartered in one of the unused crew blocks usually kept empty for just such purposes, most of the members of the team slept or relaxed, recovering from the frantic activity required to plan, organize and execute an incredibly complex op on short notice.

The Aeolus had already possessed a surprisingly well-stock armoury, so it had been a simple matter to acquire the few items that weren't there already. Acquiring transport, however, had been a major headache. Early in the planning process the team had realized they would have to deploy deep behind Covenant lines to reach the outpost. SOEIV re-entry pods were out; they were too obvious and the team too small to risk attracting Covenant attention. Likewise using a standard Pelican was out of the question for the same reasons.

Thus the only solution was a Stealth Infiltration Craft, a rare piece of equipment. Even rarer was a flight crew crazy enough to fly them. Both were in the possession of the pilots of the 1077th. Jean and Mai had had to cash in a considerable number of favours and debts in order to convince the units' CO to lend them a ship and flight team. As it was the squad's stock of contraband liquor had a sizable dent taken out of it.

Closing the data file on the planet's background and history, Jean pulled up the file outlining the basic mission layout. A tap to an icon at the top of the screen instantly called up the same file on the visors or TACPADS of every other member of the team. They all straightened up, immediately ready for the mission.

"Alright team, final mission run through," Jean called to his team. He tapped his pad a few more times, pulling up a satellite photo of the outpost and the surrounding area. A red arrow appeared, pointing to a large open space several blocks away.

"The flyboys will drop us here, an open air parking lot. It's the closest open space we can fit the craft into, landing on a roof leaves us too exposed. From there we will proceed on foot approximately 10 blocks west to the target." A dotted red line highlighted their route from the parking lot to the target building.

"We have infrared satellite scans from a few hours ago that show a small number of Covenant patrols in the area, mostly Grunts and Jackals, but expect there to be a few Elites as well. Probably clean-up crews looking for any humans they missed on the way through."

"They shouldn't prove too much of a problem sir." Hassan responded. Coming from anyone else this would have sounded like bravado or foolishness, but in this case it was merely Hassan's assessment.

"We engage if we have to, but we're going to avoid the patrols if at all possible. Nothing says there's ODSTs in the area like freshly killed Covies." Jean said, eliciting a few chuckles from his team.

The map of the area closed in until it showed only the target building. "When we get there myself, Hassan and Karl will infiltrate the building, upload the viral data worms and activate the self-destruct charges. Pat and Abdi will post outside at the main entrance to cover us while we're inside and Mai will post on the roof of this structure here," he said, pointing to a water tower on the opposite side of the street.

"Once we're done with the outpost, we'll all regroup at the main entrance and move to here," Jean said, indicating a large complex 7 blocks to the north.

"What is this structure, Lieutenant?" Abdi asked.

"It's a maintenance depot for the city's public transit buses. More importantly it offers the flyboys somewhere they can belly up and wait to pick us up. They told me that the skies here are too unfriendly for them to remain in the air while we do our thing, and the courtyard we're inserting into is too exposed to leave the SIC sitting there."

"Do we know how secure the depot is? What if they encounter Covies while they're hiding in there?" Pat asked, voicing a concern Jean knew his whole team shared.

"Thermal scans show the building was clear a few hours ago, but other then that all we can do is hope. They've got a marine riding shotgun with them if they run into something minor, but if they encounter more then a few Grunts, they're in trouble, and so are we."

"Just consider it extra incentive to finish quickly," Mai added.

"What do we know about the interior layout of the outpost?" Karl asked.

"We have the floor plans ONI submitted to the city registrar's office, but we have to imagine that they are inaccurate. ONI intel spooks on Reach didn't have time to confirm if the submitted floor plans are correct, so as usual we're operating on best guesses and estimates. The first floor is a garage, so expect large open spaces at the back and a small office and waiting area. Second floor is apartments for the ONI staffers, if any are still alive they might be there. Third floor is disguised as a hydroponic greenhouse and large air conditioner, that's were the sensitive stuff is. A hidden basement houses the redundant power supply and the self destruct charges."

"Just how big is the self-destruct charge?" asked Hassan.

"Big," replied Mai, "about 500kg of pure C12."

This information elicited a few low whistles and muttered blasphemes. That much high explosive going off would level over a city block.

"As you can imagine, it behooves us not to be in the area when it blows," Jean added. "It's a double-edge sword: we need to set the timer long enough to escape and clear the blast radius, but short enough that the Covenant can't get in there and diffuse it."

"Don't worry about that," stated Hassan, "I can rig it so that it'll explode the moment some Covie bastard cracks open the case."

A chime came from his helmet's comm. system just as Jean and his team finished going over the final details of the mission.

"We're twenty seconds out from the LZ, and it looks like you guys have some company," the pilot informed him.

"Got it, I'm coming forward to have a look," Jean answered.

Standing up and grabbing his silenced MA5 from the rack over his head, he motioned to his team to do the same. The rear compartment was filled with the sound of rustling and clicking as his team preformed final checks on their weapons and equipment before falling silent as they awaited the departure. Jean carefully picked his was past the various legs and weapons that littered the central aisle, stumbling over the strap of Pat's trauma bag before reaching the door separating the rear passenger bay from the cockpit. He keyed the button to open the door and stepped into the cockpit.

Aside from the light emitted from the various consoles, the cockpit was totally dark. The crew of four was completely engrossed in their respective duties. The two pilots wore helmets similar to the one worn by ODSTs. The integrated visual enhancement system allowed the pilots to see in total darkness as well as they could in broad daylight. Their marine guard had been drafted as an interim electronic warfare officer, and was watching the threat board, keeping an eye out for the Covenant's electronic eyes.

The fourth crewman was who Jean came up to see, the vehicle's crew chief, who operated the weapons console. He turned in his seat and gave Jean a quick hand shake. The chief turned back to his display and Jean squatted down beside him. The image on his screen was a live feed from a camera mounted in a cluster of sensors under the SIC's nose.

"We got two Covenant bastards down there," he said, pointing to two shapes on the screen. Computer enhancement routines built into the system highlighted them in a red aura. "Down in the parking lot we got one of those split-chin bastards. Seems he's taken up residence in the guard's shack." A thermal image showed a bright point emanating from the small building, likely a small heating unit.

"He patrols around the perimeter every couple of minutes before returning to his cozy little hut. The second Covie is up here," he indicated to the second red shape stationed on the top of a 4 storey building.

"By the looks of it, it's a Jackal, probably a sniper if he's up here on the roof."

Jean considered the situation carefully. "Individually neither one is a significant threat, but together they're a big problem. We have to get them both simultaneously, or the survivor might sound an alarm."

"Well," the crew chief began, "if you guys can take out that Jackal, we can hit the Elite with the M77. Should drop him in one hit, and it's quiet."

Jean considered it for a moment. "Ok, we'll drop the rear hatch, and I'll get my DM to take out the Jackal. As soon as we do that, you hit the Elite with your spear chucker."

The chief nodded, smiling at the mention of his weapon's nickname. He reached over to a covered button on his console and pressed it. From under the floor Jean could hear high-pitched whine of capacitors starting to charge. A crosshair appeared on the screen in front of the chief, which he centered on the Elite and locked on to him. The chief turned to Jean and gave him a thumbs-up.

The M77 Stealth Projectile Launcher was mounted under the ship's nose in place of the typical autocannon carried by standard Pelicans. The M77 is essentially a modified M68, the archetypical gauss cannon carried by anti-armour Warthogs. The difference lay in the ammunition. Where the M68 fired a tungsten slug 15cm long at hypersonic speeds in order to defeat armour, the M77 accelerates a meter-long steel dart to just under the speed of sound, acting essentially like a giant, highly advanced crossbow. Lethal and quiet.

Jean crossed back into the rear compartment, closing the cabin door as he went. The helmeted heads of his team turned towards him in unison.

"We're over out LZ but there's a hitch," jean told them, "We got Covies on the ground, an Elite and a Jackal on the roof above. The crew's got the Elite, but we need to take out the Jackal first. Mai, you're up."

Mai's head bobbed once, and she reached over her shoulder, grabbing her DMR off the magnetic strip that held it in place. Pat went to the rear bulkhead and took up position at the rear hatch controls, nodding his readiness. Karl reached up and turned off the red cabin illumination lights, plunging them into total darkness. The light amplifying sensors on everyone's helmets kicked in, and the darkness turned to a muted twilight.

Mai walked to the back of the cargo bay and sat down, her back pressed against the forward bulkhead. She tucked her knees up to her chest and rested her DMR on them, a ready-made bipod. The remaining members drew there own weapons and shrunk back against the walls of the compartment, ready should anything unexpected happen. Mai took a series of deep, settling breaths before taking one final breath and holding it. She nodded to Pat, who keyed a short sequence into the rear panel.

The rear ramp dropped down, completely silent on its special actuators. With the interior lights off it was impossible for anyone to see the activity going on inside the SIC. Mai raised her rifle a fraction as she sighted down the weapon's 4x optical scope. The tritium crosshairs slowly danced over the Jackal, moving towards its head before coming to rest right between the creature's large bulbous eyes. She held it there for several seconds, waiting for the perfect moment to fire. It was 400 meters from where the SIC was hovering to the rooftop where the Jackal was patrolling. That kind of shot required compensating for a multitude of factors, many that most people wouldn't think about; Mai held her breath so her respiration wouldn't affect the shot, she timed her shot to coincide with a pause between her heartbeats so the blood flowing through the muscles in her shoulder wouldn't affect her shot. On top of which, the SIC wasn't completely stable, bobbing and weaving slightly, balanced as she was on a few columns of downward thrust.

After an agonizing delay for the rest of the crew, Mai's finger contracted smoothly, and applying gentle pressure to the weapon's precision hair trigger mechanism. The rest of the team turned away just before she fired, protecting their night vision from the DMR's muzzle flash. The weapon barked once, a surprisingly quiet noise that was swallowed by all the padding and insulation in the rear bay. And unless they were directly behind the craft, no Covenant would have seen the muzzle flash.

Mai's aim was perfect. The bullet left the barrel at nearly 3,000 feet per second, covering the distance between the SIC and the Jackal in a third of a second. The jacketed round blasted through the Jackal's brow, scrambling its brains before exiting out the back of its skull. Even before the spent casing had hit the floor Jean had activated his comm. system.

"Weapons, this is Op-1, the Jackal is down, spatter that Elite!"

Random chance nearly blew the mission anyway, despite their intensive preparation. When the bullet had entered the Jackal's skull, a chaotic burst sent out from dying neurons caused the Jackal to take a half-step forward, even as it crumpled. The end result was that, instead of collapsing silently in a heap on the roof, the body fell off the roof, landing with a loud splat on top of a dumpster. On his targeting screen, the chief watched and held his breath as the Elite's head snapped up at the all the commotion.

As it was they got lucky, the Elite was inexperienced. A more seasoned warrior would have instantly radioed an alarm upon hearing anything suspicious. This one decided to go and investigate first; likely not wanting to report something only to find it was a false alarm. The Elite left his guard shack and proceeded towards the sight of the crash. Inexperienced as he was, he knew enough to stick close to the wall, his plasma rifle ready, scanning for threats.

Up in the SIC, the crew chief exhaled and let out a smile. If this Elite wanted to play it stupid, that was fine by him. Too bad he wouldn't survive long enough to learn form this, the chief grinned. His thumb flipped the plastic safety cover off the arming switch on top of his joystick and pressed it. A series of green ready lights appeared on his console, confirming the weapon was ready to fire. He made a minor adjustment to compensate for the target's movement, and then depressed the trigger.

Underneath the nose of the SIC, a pneumatic ram pushed a meter-long steel dart encased in a plastic sabot from its revolver-like magazine into the center of a long coil of circular magnetic segments. The firing computer made a quick check to ensure the round had fed in properly, then began feeding power from the weapon's capacitors into the magnets, one segment after another, rapidly accelerating the dart to just under 700 miles per hour. The sabot fell away almost instantly, leaving only the flat black payload.

Whisper silent, the Elite never heard the dart that stole his life. The round caught him in the upper left chest, his shields flaring briefly as they tried in vain to halt the dart's incredible force. The hardened steel tip tunneled through armour and flesh, barely slowed by the impact. The small delta fins near the tip of the dart came next; their leading edges sharpened for just such an occasion, slicing open a huge section of the Elite's body and spinning the dart, causing even more damage. It would have gone all the way through if not for the larger fins at the rear of the weapon. These caught up in the remains of the Elite's armour, the residual force still carried by the weapon slamming him into the stone wall behind him, where he crumpled and lay still.

The crew chief let out a whoop of triumph, the copilot turning to give him a thumbs-up. The chief toggled his mike with one hand; with his other hand he added a line to the side of his console with a permanent marker, joining the 6 already there.

"Op1, this is weapons, target is down and out, you and your team are clear for insertion. We'll proceed to the extraction point and meet you when you're finished. Good luck and good hunting.'

"Roger that, Weapons, sweet kill. Don't start any wild parties until we get there, Op-1 out." Jean replied, motioning to his team to get into position. They formed into two groups of three on each side of the ramp, Jean at the head of one, Mai at the head of the other.

From its position hovering over the parking lot the SIC dropped like a stone, flaring and coming to a stop with the rear ramp barely 6 inches off the ground. The craft hadn't even stopped moving before Jean and Mai stepped down and ran forward, weapons up, scanning for threats. They came to a stop about 30 feet away from the back of the ship. Karl and Pat came next, running up to where Jean and Mai had stopped before skidding to a stop and taking up their positions, facing to the left and right. Abdi and Hassan followed up the rear, covering the back of the formation. The entire exercise took less then 6 seconds.

Its cargo discharged, the SIC immediately power up and lifted into the air, the thrust from its engines kicking up a whirlwind of dust but making very little noise due to the special baffles fitted to its exhaust ducts. It immediately turned north-west and headed for the rendezvous point. The team took advantage of the cover provided by the dust storm to move, peeling off and flattening against the very wall the Elite had stood moments ago.

Jean pointed to Karl and Abdi and told them to take up positions at either end of the wall. They ran down and took up positions and scanned the side streets that lead past the parking lot on either side. Mai was positioned on top of a near-by delivery truck, watching the windows of the buildings that surrounded the area. Jean activated his helmet's Visual Intelligence & Reconnaissance System, or VISR. It not only provided low-light vision, it tagged and highlighted the outlines of his team, reading the encrypted signals sent out by the IFF in their neural implants. It was also capable of detecting the minute electrical fields generated by the beating hearts of organics. It had originally been designed to detect humans, but it was easily converted to detect the various Covenant species, a task made easier by their exotic anatomy. Jackal hearts for example could beat up to 200 times per minute, mimicking their avian brethren. Elites could be ID'ed by the unique double signal given off by their dual hearts.

A quick look around reassured him there were no enemy troops around. At least, he amended, none within the range of the scanner. One of the most important rules he'd learned during his time in the ODST was to always assume there are enemy nearby. That way you couldn't be taken by surprise and occasionally it even turned out to be false.

There was one little housekeeping measure to take care of before they moved on. His scan had revealed that while there was no new covenant around, the Elite had somehow survived the impact of the bolt and was now lying unconscious on the ground not 3 feet from him. He pinged Hassan and Pat's comm., and they both turned towards him. A simple gesture in the Elite's direction was all that was required to get the message across. Jean drew his silenced M6 pistol and pointed it at the Elite but didn't fire. Suppressed doesn't mean silent, and there was still the muzzle flash to contend with. The pistol was just in case the Elite woke up before he could be dealt with. Chances were the Elite would soon bleed out, but they were tough buggers, and the last thing his team needed was for the Elite to get up and wander off to raise the alarm.

Hassan and Pat slung their weapons and padded quietly over to the still form. Pat circled around to the head and crouched down, waiting for Hassan to get into position, who stood with one foot on either side of the alien's torso. From a sheath on the combat webbing over his shoulder Hassan drew a razor-sharp ceramic combat knife, and gave Pat a nod. Pat's arm shot out, reaching around the alien's head and pulling it back, exposing the throat. The other arm came up and jammed between the creature's upper and lower jaws, preventing it from calling out.

At the same instant as Pat reached out, Hassan dropped down, one of his knees pressed into the alien's wounded chest, holding him to the ground, the other standing on one of the arms. The pain caused by Hassan kneeling was enough to rouse the Elite from its stupor. The eyes opened just in time to see a human practically sitting on its chest, a wicked-looking knife coming for its throat. The creature's free arm came up towards Hassan, trying to get the knife. Had the creature not been critically wounded there would have been no chance of Hassan blocking it. Weakened as it was however Hassan simply batted the arm aside. He pressed the knife against the soft flesh of the Elite's throat and with a quick jerk drew it across, the keen edge biting all the way to the spinal column.

Hassan dropped the knife and grabbed the now-wildly flailing arm that had tried to grab him before, pressing it against the Elite's chest and securing it with his knee. Hassan and Pat held the Elite down as its gurgles and gasps slowed and finally subsided. They held it down for another half-minute just to be safe. Finally sure it was dead, the team relaxed. Hassan retrieved his knife from the ground where he had dropped it, cleaning the blood off its non-friction surface with a quick shake before returning it to the sheath. Pat expertly checked the body for anything valuable, grabbing the alien's plasma rifle and several plasma grenades. ONI had a standing cash reward for alien tech and weapons, but the plasma grenades often proved too useful for frontline troops to turn in.

Grabbing the Elite's arms and legs Pat and Hassan picked up the body and, grunting and groaning, dumped it inside the guard shack. Their task complete, they fell back and regrouped with the rest of the team. Jean gave them a nod, and then summoned the rest of the team back. They formed a single file line and began moving towards their target down a narrow street. They walked slowly, tight against the buildings on the right side of the street, their weapons up, constantly searching the darkened windows for any movement.

The team could hear the sounds of battle, far away from the Old Quarter. The UNSC had decided that the Downtown center was a more defensible location then the crumbling warrens of the old city. As a result the entire area had barely been affected by the fighting. Covenant death squads had moved through the area looking for humans, but most of the city's population had long before fled to the dubious protection of the UNSC perimeter.

In several places the team saw as they moved fires burned unchecked, the result of crashed aircraft or poorly-aimed artillery and plasma. Aside from these there was no light in the area, the electrical power having failed long ago. A few items that were independently powered still functioned however. Solar powered signs still glowed in several windows, the traffic lights that still stood continued to operate on their own internal power supplies.

The team was walking past the hulking form of an Oliphant, an automated trash collecting vehicle used throughout human space. They were right beside it when the giant machine's old, out-of-tune engine coughed and grumbled to life. Instantly the team dropped to crouching positions and raised the weapons, ready to engage whatever target presented itself. Unimpressed by the display of military training beside it, the Oliphant's transmission ground into gear and the machine lumbered off down the street, stopping every few dozen feet to pick up a dumpster and empty its contents into the garbage truck's rear hopper.

Jean and the rest of his team let out their breath, waiting for their heart rates to slow down enough to continue. Jean looked back along the line to where Karl sat and asked, "what was that all about?'

Karl shrugged before answering, "Dunno, probably programmed to pick up the garbage before everyone got up in the morning. No one told it any different, so that's what it's doing"

A thought occurred to Jean. "Can you hack into the city's infrastructure network and get control of that truck? Maybe send it off on another route, cause a distraction." he asked.

Karl reached into a pocket on his thigh and pulled out a small tablet device. Glancing around, he crawled over to a nearby traffic light. Near the bottom of the pole was a small access panel, which Karl opened with the blade of his knife. The interior mechanism exposed, Karl pulled a retractable fiber optic lead out from the top of his tablet and plugged it into the traffic light circuitry. Immediately the screen on the tablet was covered in numbers and figures.

"The local municipal network's a mess," Karl told the rest of the team, "what's left of the central computer system's going nuts trying to find out why half its assets aren't responding. There's no way to contact the main computer and issue the commands normally."

"So you can't reprogram it?" Jean asked.

"I didn't say that," Karl replied, "it's just going to take some creative command routing to get through."

Karl tapped on his computer for another minute before he let out a cry of triumph. With a dramatic flourish he tapped the execute command. Several blocks further on the Oliphant suddenly revved its engine and turned south, picking up speed as it went. Once it was several blocks away the program Karl had uploaded triggered the garbage truck's airhorn, a loud, continuous blast.

"Nice touch," Jean commented.

Karl smiled as he removed the lead and stowed the tablet in his pocket.

With their distraction barreling off to the south, the team reformed and continued towards their objective, only a few blocks further west. As they approached a large intersection, Jean raised a closed fist and crouched down, signaling his team to stop.

The intersection was formed by a large 4-lane thoroughfare leading to the Downtown core converging with one of the larger roads that crisscrossed the Old Quarter. The target building was across the intersection diagonally from the team, to the south west. On the opposite side of the road Jean and his team had approached along was an empty lot, dominated by a large water tower. This was where Mai was to position herself, providing sniper fire and keeping a lookout for enemy units. The target itself was a dingy, neglected looking building, covered in dirt and graffiti, the windows almost opaque with dust. It was set back from the road about 50 feet on the north and west sides, leaving room for a sidewalk. Concrete barricades set on the edges of the sidewalk served to keep any out of control vehicles on the highway from mounting the curb and hitting pedestrians.

Jean turned and motioned to Mai, then pointed at the water tower. She nodded, and then, after sweeping her rifle up and down the road to make sure it was clear, ran half-crouched across to the ladder at the base of the water tower. There was a padlocked metal gate that covered the lower portion of the access ladder, likely to keep children from climbing it. Mai reached into one of the pockets on her BDU and withdrew a disposable lockpick. Composed of a thin wire coated with a very small amount of plastic explosive, it was designed to be inserted into a lock like a regular key. Mai inserted the device and attached the fuse, a small chemical trigger the size of a button. The pick exploded with a muted pop, driving the tumblers of the lock open and imbedding them in the surrounding metal, popping the lock open.

Slowly, so as not to make any noise, Mai grabbed the gate with both hands and gently pulled it open. A quick sweep to make sure that the area was clear, and she was up the ladder and climbing. The tower was only about 60 feet tall, and Mai soon covered the distance. The ladder led to a catwalk that ran around the perimeter of the tank, which rose past the level of the catwalk floor, coming to about waist height. Carefully she stepped up to the top of the tank, wincing as her booted foot came down on the tank with a reverberating boom. Typical, she thought. Changing tactics, she instead lay down on the tank and crawled across to the opposite side. She drew her rifle and sighted in on the target building.

"What's the situation?" Jean asked over the comm. Mai swept the scope over the building, lingering as the reticule passed over windows and doors, watching for any sign of movement.

"Negative visual scan, I can't see anything," Mai replied, the voice-activated microphone opening a channel automatically. "I'm going to thermal scanning." As soon as she said the words the computer in her helmet detected them and automatically activated the thermal scope setting on her DMR. It took her only a few moments to find what she was after. "Ah ha, got it, sending it to you now."

Down on the street below a window popped up in the upper right hand corner of Jean's HUD, showing the image Mai was seeing through her scope. The building was broken up into an abstract pattern of colors, representing the different temperature of various objects in the building. The majority of the display was light blue or green, ambient temperature. Bright red lines running under the floor indicated power lines and heating elements warming up to ward off the night's chill. Two small red patches in the front office indicated an active computer and a coffee pot someone forget to turn off. And wandering around the first and second floors were six patches of absolute black, created by the super-cold liquid methane that Covenant Grunts breathed.

Jean acknowledged the message from Mai and closed the window. He turned back and opened a channel to the entire team. "Ok, looks like we got six squeakers," he said, using the slang term for Covenant Grunts. "They're evenly spread out between the first and second floor. Original plan's in effect, me, Karl and Hassan will go in through the garage door, Abdi and Pat will post outside to keep our exit open, Mai will stay where she is. Ok everyone, move!"

The team broke into their respective groups and headed for their positions. Abdi and Pat ran straight across the intersection, weapons up, coming to a stop at the corner of the building as the rest of the team covered them. They then spun around and covered Jean and his team as they crossed, before taking up position behind the concrete traffic barricades. Pat gave Jean a curt nod as they went past, wishing them luck.

The east wall of the garage was dominated by two large sliding doors to admit vehicles, and a smaller door for the mechanics. It was this one that the entry team arranged themselves around. With Jean and Hassan covering him, Karl again withdrew his tablet. Pulling out the fiber-optic lead, he popped the cover off the door's electronic lock and attached the lead. The door was open in less than 3 seconds; it was a cheap lock, and the tablet had the best intrusion protocols ONI had yet devised. Before they entered, however, Karl unplugged the lead and attached a small sensor to its end.

The devise looked a lot like an old-fashioned stethoscope, and functioned in a similar way. When pressed against a solid object, it emitted inaudible sound waves that reverberate throughout the object. The practical application of this is if placed against a wall the soundwaves will travel through the adjoining walls, floors and ceilings, mapping the structure in question. A 3D image of the building's layout quickly began to resolve on Karl's tablet.

"What do you know," Karl remarked, "those rear echelon pukes actually got it right. It's pretty much a match to the blueprints they gave to the city."

Jean pointed to a strange double wall in one of the 2nd floor apartments. "I'd bet a year's salary that that's the access to the 3rd level." Karl nodded his agreement. Jean moved to the door and, cracking it open slightly, slipped a fiberoptic camera through the crack. The dark, grainy image popped up in a window on Jean's HUD. Jean could see the dim outlines of toolboxes, and in one of the repair bays was occupied by some sort of civilian vehicle. Jean carefully withdrew the fragile camera and turned to his team.

"Ok, me and Karl will go in first. Hassan has rearguard, don't shoot unless you have to, that trenchsweeper of yours isn't suppressed." Receiving nods from his team, Jean drew his MA5 and carefully eased the door open, stepping into the gloom of the garage. A quick sweep left and right confirmed the room was empty. Jean stepped out of the way to allow Karl and Hassan in behind him. There was only one other entrance into the garage, a door to the right that lead to the front lobby. Though it wasn't visible, the entrance to the sub-basement was hidden in the oil sump under one of the lifts, submerged under 6 inches of oily water. Hassan looked at the filthy water and looked back at Jean, the gesture conveying volumes.

Karl and Hassan took up positions on either side of the double doors while Jean crouched down and pushed one open a fraction. Again the fiber optic camera came out and snuck through the opening. Directly in front of the doors was a long counter that separated the customer area from the employees. To the right was the outer wall, and to the left was a small open area, with a few desks set up. It was at one of these desks that the three Grunts on the first floor were clustered. Apparently one of them had deciphered the computer OS enough to find the desktop games, which they were muddling through with great amusement, the two who were watching chittered in their shrill, high pitch language. Jean smiled; the Grunts were showing the typical lack of awareness he had come to expect.

Jean sent the image to Karl and Hassan to show them the placement of the enemy troops. Both shook their head at the Grunt's lack of discipline. Karl pointed to one of the flashbang grenades hanging off his combat webbing. Jean shook his head. The Grunts were distracted enough, and flashbangs would only alert any Covenant in the area to their presence. Shrugging, Karl pressed his back against the door and slowly began to back up, opening the door. As soon as it was clear Karl's MA5 was up, ready to respond to any movement by the Grunts. Jean crouched and shimmied out next. There wasn't enough room for both him and Karl to stand side-by-side, so he stayed crouched. As soon a he was clear of the door, he used his helmet's non-verbal communication system to co-ordinate the takedown. Composed of a red, yellow and green light on the edge of the helmet's HUD, they allowed for quick communication of simple ideas.

For now the yellow light was lit, indicating hold your fire. He brought his MA5 up to his shoulder, placing the targeting reticle over one of the Grunt's skull. Communicating between his gun and the micro-computer in the back of his helmet, the reticule was computed and displayed based on a number of factors, such as wind speed, humidity, and temperature. It then factors in the weapon's unique firing profile, which is calculated at the factory and uploaded and stored within the weapon.

Jean paused for a second, and then depressed the trigger, at the same time signaling Karl to do the same. It was over in seconds. Jean's 3-round burst caught the Grunt square in the back of the head, splattering his compatriot on the computer with a spray of the strange, luminous blood they possessed. At the same instant Karl's burst caught the other observer just above its auditory opening, dropping it without a sound. The final Grunt had barely begun to turn away from the computer screen when his head dissolved from the bursts both Karl and Jean fired. The carbon nanotube silencers on the MA5s ensured the loudest sound was caused by the spent brass hitting the cement floor.

Jean and Karl both advanced slowly, their weapons still raised. Once they reached the bodies Karl covered the room while Jean tapped the Grunts with his boot. It was readily apparent none of them were alive. Jean briefly thought about hiding the bodies in the garage, than dismissed it. Even if they did, they would never be able to hide the copious amounts of luminous blood, which illuminated the scene in a pale blue light. Hassan had followed in their wake, making sure no-one snuck up behind them. He gestured to the computer the Grunts had been playing with. Jean understood what he meant instantly; he was asking whether they should upload the viral worms onto this computer.

Jean shook his head. "No need. It's just part of ONI's cover operation, there's no way they'd put sensitive data on it. Hell, some thief might break in and steal it. Besides," he said, indicating a small round hole in the center of the screen, a bullet hole from a round that had gone through a Grunt's skull.

Jean's team quickly and efficiently stripped the Grunts of their weapons. It was during this when Karl called over to Jean, pointing to one of the dead bodies. Jean came over and crouched down beside Karl, looking at what he was pointing to. Karl clicked on a small flashlight, using his free hand to shield the light. The beam of the penlight revealed what the helmet's VISR wasn't able to: the armour of the Grunt was jet black. Jean let out a low whistle. "Damn, these guys aren't just your standard meat. They're Spec-ops, elite units."

"And check this out," Karl said, pushing the body over on its side. Sitting underneath was the unmistakable form of a Covenant plasma rifle. "I though only the split-heads carried these. Never heard of Grunts getting them..."

"This guy has one too," Hassan added, nudging another one of the bodies with his boot. "And the computer guy had this," he added, reaching down between the wall and the desk. He straightened, and in his arms he held a massive shoulder-held weapon. It was a Fuel Rod Gun, the Covenant's standard anti-armour weapon. Not quite as destructive as the UNSC's M41 rocket launcher, it could still fire five rounds of highly explosive plasma in less than 3 seconds. Marines called it the Thud Gun for the deep sound it made when fired.

Jean could tell what Hassan was thinking. "Leave it here; it'll only slow us down. And besides, firing those things so close to your head will irradiate your brain." What Jean was really worried about was booby traps. Grunts were known to rig dead man switched to their fuel rod guns, causing them to explode if they are dropped or activated incorrectly.

"There's something going on here, you don't send your heavy hitters to hunt down civilians, they're badass spec-ops guys like us. Almost. They should be uptown fighting the regulars." Jean told his team. "One thing's for sure; we need to be a lot more careful. If that Grunt had gotten to his fuel rod gun we'd all be radioactive ash right now." Both Karl and Hassan nodded. They all realized that they had gotten really lucky this time.

A door at the far end of the room, past the rows of desks, led back outside to a small mud room and the stairs to the second floor, allowing those who lived in the apartments to go upstairs without having to go through the garage lobby and allowing access after business hours. After a quick camera sweep to make sure that the stairway was clear they were in and moving, careful to step as close to the walls as they could, trying to avoid any noisy stairs. The stairs were narrow, forcing the team to proceed in single file with Jean in the lead and Hassan in the back.

The door to the second floor was re-enforced steel, secured with a state of the art electronic lock. Karl took one look at the lock and shook his head. "That's got to be government issue, no way civilians could get their hands on something like this. I got nothing that can bust through this encryption with the tools I got on hand."

"What about that data chip that ONI colonel gave us?" asked Jean. Karl took out his tablet and, removing the piece of paper taped to the chip, slid data chip into a port on the side of the device. The screen of the tablet momentarily went black, before rebooting. Then the screen was suddenly filled with complex screens of alphanumerical codes. Karl took out a small universal screwdriver and removed the bottom panel from lock. Pushing aside a cluster of wires, Karl located a data jack and connected his tablet to it. Immediately the number of codes scrolling across the device's screen tripled. The indicator lights on the lock began flashing in an insane pattern. Suddenly the light all flashed green, along with the tablet screen. The lock clicked open. Karl and Jean exchanged looks.

One again the pinhole camera came out and slid through the crack in the door. There were eight apartments on the top floor; five on the right and 3 on the left. The remaining space on the left side had been furnished as a commons area for the tenants, with several sofas and armchairs set around a large coffee table. The remaining three Grunts were spread out around the floor. One stood out by itself in the hallway as a second tore through the contents of the apartments. The final Grunt was off by itself in the common area, likely engaged in its own search for spoils. Jean transmitted the camera image to the others, tagging each Grunt in the order they were to be taken down, first the hallway guard, then the one ransacking the apartments, and finally the one in the common area.

Withdrawing the camera, Jean stepped back from the door and nodded to Karl, who drew his M6 and stood ready to move in. Grabbing the door handle, Jean slowly pulled the door open, Karl sticking the long-barreled pistol through the opening as soon as there was space to do so.

Some unknown trigger caused the Grunt standing out in the hallway to turn around as the team was entering. Through the 2x zoom on his pistol Karl could see the Grunt's eyes widen in surprise when it saw them enter. It had just started to raise its plasma rifle when Karl fired. Two muted pops were the only sound audible as the 12.7mm rounds penetrated the Grunt's skull and exploded, vaporizing its brain.

Unfortunately Grunts, by dint of their arthropod-like biology, have a much more distributed nervous system then those possessed by mammalian or saurian species. This didn't give them superior constitution; they can't survive without their head or anything like that. But it did mean a headshot didn't always guarantee an instant kill, and sometimes the final signals sent by the brain still manage to get transmitted, in this case a signal to it's trigger finger ordering it to contract.

The Grunt's plasma rifle went off, sending a stream of superheated projectiles into the floor and wall. Immediately the corridor was filled with smoke from the burning floors.

Jean cursed and flung the door open, raising his MA5 by its pistol-grip. The guttural cries of the remaining Grunts echoed up the hallway at them. Suddenly a grey, chitinous arm holding a plasma rifle emerged from an apartment door and fired a volley of plasma bursts out the door. Karl and Jean jumped back to avoid the rounds. Karl could take a step back down the stair and was relatively protected, but Jean was forced to step behind the door and use it as a shield.

Jean winced as another volley of plasma bolts hit the door. Already the heat was starting to penetrate through the surface. In several spots already the door glowed with a dull red heat, the smell of burning paint infiltrating the air scrubbers in his helmet.

From his position Karl would have to dangerously expose himself to enemy fire if he was going to take a shot, meaning it was up to Jean. He closed his eyes and turned up the audio pickups, listening for a specific sound. At the rate that the Grunt was firing, its plasma rifle would have to be overheating. Suddenly Jean could hear it; a quite hissing, like a kettle allowed to boil over on the stove.

Jean popped out from behind the half-melted door and aimed down his weapon's sights. The arm had wisely retreated, waiting for its weapon to cool. But the grunt had made a common mistake; it had vastly overestimated the protective properties of drywall. Jean switched to full auto and fired a dozen rounds through the corner of the wall and doorframe. Almost the instant he had fired he saw a flurry of pink shards fired down the hallway, straight at him.

Even as he dodged out of the way a detached part of his brain was analyzing what had happened. The Grunts had teamed up, one of them drawing the ODST's fire while the second stood still, hidden in the smoke, and waited for Jean or his team to reveal themselves. Jean landed hard on the floor, avoiding the majority of the glistening pink shards. The final one however embedded itself in his right shoulder pauldron. Jean took one look at it and quickly averted his gaze, just in time as it turned out. Biting into inorganic material meant it wouldn't explode, but it still shattered with enough force to scar or damage his visor.

Still lying on the ground, Jean motioned to Hassan, poking a closed fist with his index finger, the hand signal for "Throw in a grenade!" Nodding, Hassan edged past Karl and took his place at the door. Pulling an M9 fragmentation grenade off his combat web, Hassan depressed the trigger button on its top, crushing the plastic safety strip. He then tossed it inside with practiced ease, slamming the door shut as soon as the grenade left his hand. Primed by depressing the button, the M9 arms itself as soon as it hits a solid object and explodes when it then comes to a stop. The explosion was surprisingly muffled, like a child popping an inflated paper bag. Several small irregular holes appeared in the door, evidence of the deadly power of the M9's explosive shrapnel.

Hassan waited a few moments before opening the door, shotgun at the ready. His VISR cut out most of the smoke and heat distortion, but it was still very hard to see. As their cover had already been blown, Hassan took up position at the head of the team, his weapon better suited for the confined area of the hallway. Karl resumed his place in the middle and Jean brought up the rear.

From his position outside Pat opened a comm. to Jean, "What the hell are you guys doing in there, I thought this was supposed to be quiet!" he hissed.

"We've had a minor setback," Jean answered. "Anyone coming to see what the noise is?"

"Nobody's called the cops yet, but you can be sure someone heard your party. Get a move on." Pat responded.

Jean confirmed with his status light and the team continued into the building. At each apartment they carefully opened the door and made sure that they were empty. They all were. Approximately 2/3s of the way down the hall they found the last Grunt, lying where the grenade blast had thrown it, its hard skin riddled with tiny shrapnel holes. Hassan kicked its weapon out of reach and continued. Finally they were past the left-side apartment block and into the common area.

Jean, Karl and Hassan each peeled off and checked the room top to bottom, making sure that there was no Covenant hiding anywhere, as well as searching for any signs of the ONI staff. Shouts of "Clear!" echoed throughout the room as each team member confirmed they were alone. With their immediate location secure, the team focused their attention on the final apartment, the only one they hadn't entered yet.

"I can't get anything from in there," Jean said, indicating the closed door. "Motion, thermal, EM, it's like the place doesn't exist.

"Not surprising given it's an ONI facility," Karl noted, "it's probably shielded six ways from Sunday."

Karl walked over to the door and pressed his head against the door, trying to detect any sound or movement. But while the door appeared no different than any of the other hollow wooden doors on the floor, it was obviously much more. It was likely steel or titanium, and filled with sound-insulating material. Hearing nothing, he reached out and gave the door handle an experimental twist. To everyone's surprise it rotated freely.

Karl looked at the handle in surprise, then turned to the team and smiled. "Looks like those ONI idiots forgot to-"

The door suddenly slammed open into Karl's chest, the force of the impact knocking him unconscious and sending him flying back into one of the sofas. Jean whipped around, his MA5 coming up to firing position. His eyes widened at what he saw; silhouetted in the open door was the unmistakable shape of a Covenant Elite, its armour jet black. In its massive hands it carried a plasma rifle and a lit energy sword.

The hulking soldier advanced on Karl's unconscious form, its energy sword raised to deliver a killing blow. Jean knew that he had to act if immediately if he was going to save Karl

Jean fired a clumsy off-handed burst, the rounds sparking off the Elite's energy shields, completely unharmed. But it distracted him from the easy prey lying at its feet. The plasma rifle came up and fired a stream of superheated plasma bursts at the ODST leader, forcing him to dive over a trashed sofa to avoid being hit. Jean landed hard, driving the wind from his body.

Jean rolled onto his back almost instantly, just in time to see the Elite vault over the wrecked sofa, sword already swinging down for a killing strike. Instinctively Jean threw up his MA5 to block the blow. The superheated plasma that formed the sword's blade boiled through the weapon's steel frame like so much tissue paper, but it did serve to throw off the Elite's aim. What should have been a fatal strike instead merely cut a furrow through the armour on Jean's upper-right chest.

With his left hand he threw a piece of the MA5 at the Elite, his right hand fumbling, trying to get his pistol clear of its holster. The Elite threw back its serpentine head and laughed, an odd-warbling sound, before once again raising its sword.

But the Elite, for all its skill and strength, had made a mistake. In its bloodlust and desire to fight, it had forgotten a basic tenet of its training: always maintain situational awareness. At first its rage had been focused on Karl, when Jean had gotten between it and its victim Jean became its quarry. But it had never seen Hassan, who had been hidden from the Elite's view by the open door. The Elite and Jean both heard the unmistakable sound of someone racking the slide of an M90 combat shotgun. The Covenant soldier's head came around just in time to see a black-armoured human press a long black tube into the small of its back and pull the trigger.

The Elite's shields flared briefly before collapsing with a bright flash. Had it been a lower ranking enemy, with correspondingly weaker armour the blast would have nearly cut it in two. But this Elite was spec-ops, the best of the best, and had access to the best equipment in the Covenant arsenal. The shield stopped most of the 14 8-gauge magnum balls, however 3 of them retained enough force to punch through and embed themselves in the fleshy muscles of the Elite's back.

The Elite roared with pain and lashed out with the sword, cleaving the space Hassan had occupied moments before. With his foe distracted, Jean finally managed to free his pistol. From his position on the floor Jean fired at the Elite as fast as he could work the trigger, the bullets sparking as they bounced off the Elite's armour. Another roar told him at least one had found flesh. Jean's assault forced the Elite back several steps. As he rolled to his feet a resounded boom signaled that Hassan had fired again, the shot impacting the Elite square in the chest, badly injuring it and destroying it's armour, forcing it farther back.

The covenant soldier stood illuminated by a shaft of moonlight streaming in a nearby window. Jean and Hassan could see large drops of its dark purple blood dripping off its body, forming a pool at its feet. Even this badly wounded Jean knew the warrior was still a potent threat. With its speed and strength, it could clear the distance separating them in a heartbeat, and likely kill them before it felt the impacts of their bullets. For several seconds they all stood still, evaluating each other for weaknesses, planning their attacks.

Before either party could react however a loud, sharp crack split the silence. Jean and Hassan ducked as the window shattered, looking up just in time to see the Eilte's head snap to the side. A fine spray of purple blood showered the opposite wall. The giant warrior collapsed in a heap without a sound.

The immediate threat neutralized, Jean and Hassan cautiously lowered their weapons. Both looked out the shattered window, seeking the source of the saving shot. From her position on top of the water tower Mai gave the team a little wave, smoke still curling from her DMR's barrel. Jean gave his own little wave before turning back to check on Karl. Hassan was already down on one knee beside him, his first aid kit open on the floor beside him. Jean went over and crouched on Karl's opposite side.

They knew he wasn't dead; the biometric sensors in Karl's armour were still sending out signals, confirming that his heart was beating and lungs functioning. But the biosensors couldn't detect broken bones or a concussion. Reaching over, Jean hit the recessed button on the side of Karl's helmet that depolarized his visor. It didn't look good; his eyes were closed, and a thin trickle of blood seeped out from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Jean reached down and grabbed a small plastic vial from the first aid kit. Crushing it between his fingers, he inserted the tip into a small port on the underside of the helmet's chin plate.

The vial contained ammonium carbonate, more commonly known as smelling salts, whose odor was powerful enough to awaken someone who has been knocked unconscious. Karl's eyes snapped open, rapidly blinking several times before focusing on Jean's face. Good, he thought, eyes focused, pupils contracting normally. Probably not concussed. "What's the damage, anything broken?"

"Black and blue, but nothing too permanent," Karl replied, disconnecting his helmet's collar and reaching under his chin plate to wipe away the blood trickles. "It's lucky that I hit this sofa instead of something more solid." Jean extended a hand and helped Karl to his feet. Karl dusted himself off and then, groaning, bent down to retrieve his MA5.

Ejecting the now nearly empty magazine from his pistol and inserting a fresh one, Jean cautiously approached the dead Elite, weapon ready. On closer inspection he holstered his weapon; it was obviously dead. Mai's round had hit it square in the side of its elongated skull. With his MA5 destroyed, Jean needed a new weapon, so he reached down and picked up the Elite's plasma rifle. The weapon's grip felt odd in his hands, and it was contoured funny, requiring him to extend his arm straight out in order to aim properly, something made even more difficult by the fact it had no sights. His suit's computer, lacking any data feeds from the weapon, projected a rough default reticule.

Karl snickered at Jean's impromptu weapon as he went past, prompting Jean to grab the MA5 from his shoulder and force the plasma rifle into Karl's protesting hands. The weapons issue solved, the team stacked up and cautiously entered the final apartment. The interior was a mess; obviously the Elite had been searching the room. Jean gestured with his hand, signaling the team to spread out. The apartment wasn't very large; consisting of a bedroom, washroom and a combination kitchen/living area. It was Hassan who found them, quietly calling the rest of the team into the bedroom.

The five missing ONI agents were lying face down on the floor, their hands tied behind their backs with duct tape. Each one showed the same fatal wound; a pair of wide, thin punctures, characteristic of a Covenant energy sword. There was very little blood; the heat of the sword's blade cauterized the wounds they left almost instantly. Other then the stab wounds, none of them showed any sign of torture or damage, which indicated to Jean they hadn't been interrogated. This struck Jean as odd; the Elite was obviously not here by random chance, he and his team had been deployed here to look for something, yet they hadn't interrogated the humans they had found there.

Jean left the others to deal with the ONI agents. They couldn't take the bodies with them, but they could at least place them in a more dignified position. Jean turned away from the grisly scene and came back out into the main area. Without any info from the ONI agents, the Elite had had no idea what he was looking for, and subsequently had proceeded to utterly trash the apartment. Furniture and pieces of furniture littered the floor, along with the contents of every shelf and drawer in the room. The refrigerator door hung forlornly on one hinge; its contents spread across the linoleum tiles of the apartment's small kitchenette.

Standing against one wall however was a small desk, strangely intact amidst the debris. Sitting on the desk was someone's personnel laptop, its holographic screen glowing dimly in its powered down state. There was something else sitting beside it. As Jean approached, he could clearly see that the object was Covenant in origin. It was roughly the size of a softball, but had a more elliptical shape. A flattened bottom allowed it to sit upright on the desk. The top of the device was studded with dozens of small teal-coloured lights. The surface was made of the odd purple hexagonal panels the Covenant seemed to prefer.

Emerging from the side of the device was an odd-looking cable about half an inch thick. Whatever it was made from was translucent, and Jean could see pulses of light traveling up and down it. The end of the cable ended in a confusing mass of thin fibrous strands. Entwined with the cable was a bundle of fiber optic filaments the Elite had carefully pulled out of the laptop's interior. Evidently the Elite had hoped the laptop contained important data. Jean reached out and touched the surface of the strange device. The teal lights in the surface flared, and a hemispherical dome of holographic symbols popped up, hovering about an inch off the top surface.

Leaving the indecipherable controls alone, Jean carefully disconnected the two bundles of cables from each other. He then wrapped the cable around the outside of the device and carefully placed it in a large pocket on his thigh. The ONI eggheads loved stuff like this, and there was a standing bounty on any working Covenant technology. He then returned his attention to the laptop. It was unlikely the ONI agents had stored any data on it, but there was no way to know what kind of worms or backdoors the Covenant device might have installed. He inserted the data drive containing the viral data scavengers into an empty data port. Immediately a command prompt appeared on the screen. A single tap of the execute command sent the worms tearing through the data storage centers of the computer. A stream of command lines rapidly shot across the screen. Then suddenly the screen went blank, with only a small error message in the corner showing the machine was even on.

Jean had just stuck the data disk back in his pocket when the rest of the team rejoined him. He activated a local voice channel: "Ok guys, its 18 minutes on the clock, we got to get moving. That little encounter set us behind schedule." With that, Jean crossed the room to the remains of an Indian rubber plant stand in the corner of the room. A large terracotta pot lay broken beside it; about a cubic foot of dark soil lay in a pile on the floor. Jean stuck his hand in and fished around for what he was after. He soon found it; a small plastic bag. He extracted it and got his first look at his prize. It was a small plastic remote, about 4 inches long and 2 inches wide. There were eight unmarked buttons on the top surface. Jean tossed it to Karl, who, after consulting a piece of paper from his pocket, pressed a sequence in before destroying the paper and the remote.

A hidden door swung open from a small bulkhead on the outer wall, revealing a narrow ladder. Leaving Hassan at the bottom to guard their exit, Jean and Karl quickly climbed up into the concealed ONI listening post. The ladder lead to a small, claustrophobic space. A thick door prevented them from entering. Suddenly a bright red light flashed them both right in the eyes. It took them several seconds to blink away the spots and figure out what had happened. They quickly realized they had just been the subjects of a retinal scan, one they had just failed. Besides the fact they weren't authorized to be here in the first place, the scanner couldn't get through their reflective visors to begin with.

The computer controlling the scanner was in the process of warning them about the various legal ramifications associated with trying to enter an ONI facility without clearance when Karl popped open a small panel under the scanner, revealing a keypad. Digging yet another piece of paper out of his pocket, he entered a 16 digit code. The status lights on the door flashed green, and the door slid open with a series of metallic thuds.

The room was cramped; it had to fit the footprint of the apartment below. It was also dark; being disguised as an air conditioner meant they couldn't include windows, and bright lights weren't good for the computers; it could interfere with the holographic displays. One side of the room was dominated by a large bank of computers and satellite relays. The other side had a long tabletop display for analyzing data as a group.

"OK, let's do what we came to do," Jean said to Karl, "boot up the system and upload those scavengers." Then he opened a private channel to Hassan down below. "Hassan, get down to the sub-basement and start rigging the charges. Don't arm them until we come and get you."

Karl meanwhile was trying to activate the obstinate computer. It was functioning at very low levels, too low to activate the external mikes and respond to verbal commands. They were also too low to power the holographic displays. With a frustrated sigh Karl wheeled a chair over to a small screen set into the computer bank near the wall. He reached under the surface and hit a spring loaded catch, and a manual keyboard slid out from a small drawer in the face of the machine. As soon as it did the small screen flickered to life, revealing a simple graphic interface.

Karl started simple; he requested priority access to the core functions. Not surprisingly this didn't work. The computer stated that his identity was unknown, and must be verified in order to proceed. Karl entered his name and serial number, to which the computer responded he didn't possess the required clearance, so he tried Jean's name and number, to no avail. Karl mentally shrugged; he hadn't expected any of it to work, but he had to try. He typed in a series of commands, stripping away the interface to access the raw code underneath.

Karl began inputting the codes ONI had given them into the system, trying them one after another. He got lucky; the third one worked. The screen flashed a brief message stating they were now granted temporary priority access, and then cleared except for a small line at the top requesting they enter a command. Jean tossed Karl the data disk containing the viral worms, who stuck it in an open slot. He returned to the keyboard and typed in a command to activate the scavenger program.

Once again the familiar crawl of code began surging across the screen. Suddenly the code ground to a halt. The boarders of the screen flared read and a new line of code appeared, the text twice as large as the others. It began to flash, emphasizing its importance.

"Whoa," Karl muttered, squinting at the new commands. "What the hell is this?"

Jean came over and joined him, reading the screen over Karl's shoulder. "What's the problem?"

"It's some kind of error message, exception 341, I've never heard of such a thing." Karl said, typing in a short command telling the computer to define exception 341.

"OK, here we go, exception 341: unable to perform requested action because request conflicts with opposing commands from a higher authorized source. The damn computer just pulled rank on us."

Karl tired the sequence again, using a different code from the ONI colonel. Again he got the same message, this time punctuated by the data drive popping out of its slot and falling to the floor.

Jean tapped Karl on the shoulder, nudging him out of the way. Jean held no illusions that he could get the computer to co-operate with them where Karl couldn't, but he was getting mad. He also had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to this then an obstinate ONI computer. Karl shrugged, then obligingly stood up from his chair and let Jean slide in front of the keyboard.

He quickly typed out *What the Hell is going on here?*

Several seconds passed, and Jean had begun to think nothing was happening, when a line of green text appeared under his:

-What indeed.-

Jean was surprised to say the least; he hadn't expected anything, let alone a cogent response.

*Who are you?* he typed.

-My house, my rules. Who are you?-

*1st Lt. Jean Michel Rénoir, UNSC S# JMR09563-04*

-So you say. Time to ante up.-

A small hatch popped open on the console to Jean's left, and what looked like a matte black metal spoon extended from the interior of the computer. Jean had seen these before; it was a biometric scanner, a laser would scan his thumb print and compare it to known records. Jean removed his left gauntlet and placed his thumb in the scanner. Almost immediately he felt a sharp jab of pain, and jerked back his hand. A single dot of blood welled up on his finger, a matching one sat in the bowl of the reader. Evidently whatever he was talking to wanted to be absolutely sure of his identity.

Almost immediately a large volume of text filled the screen. Jean was shocked to see that it was his career service vitae, a complete accounting of his time and actions with the UNSC. He was even more shocked to see that there were numerous sections he'd never seen before, notes from various sections of ONI.

-Congratulations Lieutenant, you've opened the first gate.-

*Then maybe now you can tell me who you are?*

There was a noticeable pause before the reply came.

-My name is Whispered Secret. ONIAI S# WS09783-03-T1-

Jean exhaled explosively and leaned back from the computer. The situation had just gotten a lot more complicated. Jean had worked with a wide variety of AIs during his time with the UNSC, both the smart and dumb variety. But they had all been commissioned by the UNSC. This one belonged to ONI, and that meant trouble. The –T1 suffix at the end of her serial number indicated the AI was classified as Tier 1, the highest clearance an AI can hold. It was only granted to the most important artificial intelligences in the entire human empire, their instructions superseded that of admirals, generals or heads of state. And 1st Lieutenant Jean Michel had found one buried deep in a partially destroyed computer inside an abandoned 3rd rate ONI listening post.

*What are you doing here, ma'am?* Jean typed, remembering to add the honorific at the last second.

Instead of an answer a large block of text appeared:

-Under Section 3.4.9 of the United Nations Space Command Uniform Code of Military Justice, it is illegal to attempt to access, either overtly or covertly, any data deemed classified by the United Nations Space Command, The Office of Naval Intelligence, or by any subsidiaries, contractors or employees of the above stated groups. In addition, it is illegal to attempt to coerce, bribe, intimidate or fool any persons or artificial intelligences working for the above mentioned organizations, for the purposes of obtaining classified data.

Breach of Section 3.4.9 is categorized as a Grade 1 felony under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and as such persons or groups found to be in violation of said section will be subject to the harshest penalties possible under the UCMJ, up to and including life imprisonment or death.-

Jean was starting to get mad. This computer had just told him in no uncertain terms to mind his own business.

*Alright fine, it doesn't matter. Pack up whatever data you need, and get ready to move. We've wasted enough time here already.*

-Impossible. The data I guard is too large to transport and too important to leave behind. I'm ordering you and your team to form a perimeter and hold position until we can re-establish contact with ONI and they can send a data recovery team to extract me-

Jean stared at the screen for several seconds, too shocked to respond. He started jabbing at the keyboard, hoping the AI could sense this.

*ARE YOU INSANE? We have to leave! The Covenant knows about this place! If we hadn't gotten here when we did you would be talking to an Elite right now! And you can damn well bet he wouldn't be put off by threats of jail time!*

-I am well aware of the circumstances regarding your entrance. And it changes nothing. You are ordered to establish a perimeter and protect myself and my data until we can be extracted.–

To emphasize her point she displayed another part of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, the section regarding insubordination and failing to obey a lawfully given order. It ended much the same way as the previous section.

Jean fought to keep his anger in check. Every moment they spent here increased the chance that his team would be discovered, and they couldn't leave because of an arrogant ONI AI.

*There is no extraction team! The whole planet is under the Winter Contingency! UNSC forces are falling back to final evac points, the fleet won't be here for nearly 4 days! There is no way we are staying here for 4 days! So here's what's going to happen: I'm going to try to upload the worms one more time, and I'm going to instruct my demo expert to set the charges in the basement and blow this place up. You can either come with us or stay here.*

-NO! The data stored here with me is vital; it may be a key to defeating the Covenant! Lieutenant, please, you can't leave it here!-

Despite himself Jean found that he was intrigued; what was so important about this data that it would make an ONI AI risk capture by the Covenant?

*This data, it's important?*

-Yes.-

*You'd die for it? Risk the lives of me and my team?*

-I'm not alive, so I can't die, but yes, I would. I would sacrifice my existence and that of every single man, woman and child on this planet to protect it, for this data may hold the key to saving many billions more.-

Jean paused to consider the AI's request. No doubt the AI genuinely believed her data was crucial; however whether the data was actually as important as she claimed was another matter entirely.

*I'm sorry but we have to leave. Take as much of it with you as you can, but make it quick.*

It was several seconds before the AI responded; clearly she wasn't willing to let this go.

-I have an alternative, if you're determined to leave despite my orders. Under Section 37, Subsection 4 of the UNSC Mandate for the Preservation of State Secrets, high ranking official and AIs such as myself can grant temporary high level clearance to non-certified personnel in an emergency. Therefore under the above article I am granting you, 1st Lt. Jean Michel Rénoir, Priority 1A security clearance. You are cleared to tell your team, but please recall the penalties for treason should you decide to tell anyone else. Now that that's dealt with, pay attention, I'm not going to repeat myself.-

The holotable behind them flickered and hummed to life, casting blue light across the room. A foot-tall figure materialized near the corner of the table. At first glance she appeared to be dressed in a monk's robe and cowl. Closer inspection however revealed that her cowl was actually composed of waist-length brown hair, casting a deep shadow. Her face was almost entirely hidden within the shadows of her hood, only her chin and the tip of her nose were showing, the skin deathly white.

She spread her arms out in front of her, revealing petite hands the same pale white as her face. "Ah, I never though I would be so happy to talk, but after having to use that archaic screen it's delightful."

Abruptly she spun to face the two humans in the room. "Right, down to business." She gave a curt nod and a holographic image of the planet appeared. A subtle gesture and the view turned into a cross section, revealing the various layers that composed the planet. Another nod and the view tightened rapidly, focusing on a section of the crust on the northern continent. On the surface were a number of large prefabricated buildings. A shaft leads from inside one of the largest, plunging deep into the planet's surface. Branching off from there was a spider web-like maze of tunnels, drifts and shafts.

"This," the AI began, gesturing towards the model hovering over the table, "is Terrasyn 45-2, a medium size deep shaft titanium mine about 300km north-east of here. It was opened in 2523, and is painfully average in almost every quantifiable manner. Or at least it was up until 3 weeks ago."

The view tightened further, zooming in on the lowest tunnel in the mine. "A group of mine workers and engineers were down on level 53, the lowest level in the mine, following a vein of titanium down through the strata. They rigged the blasting charges, retreated back up the tunnel and detonated them. And this is what they found waiting there for them."

A window popped open over the model of the mine. It was a still image from a video recording, and not a particularly good one. The lighting was terrible; a consequence of being over a mile underground. The boarders of the image were dominated by walls of rough granite that composed the tunnel walls. A large pile of rubble lay half-removed in the center of the image; various earth moving machines were parked haphazardly around it. But it was what was revealed behind the blasted rock face that drew Jean and Karl's rapt attention.

The jagged fragments of the rock face suddenly gave way to a mirror smooth finish, granite replaced with burnished metal. The surface was etched with complex geometric patterns.

"The miners found something embedded in the rock, buried over a mile under the ground, an object neither human nor Covenant in origin, and prior to actually finding it was never detected in any of the scans or tests they preformed prior to opening the mine. Based on the local geological and tectonic activity it's estimated that it was originally located on the surface, over 100,000 years ago, and was slowly consumed by the planet. The engineers there determined from the object's curvature that the object is likely a sphere, measuring a kilometer in diameter. They also tried to determine what the object was made of. Unfortunately no tool they possessed proved capable of damaging its surface or getting a sample. It should also be noted that nearly 500 pounds of high explosives did nothing more then polish the surface of the object."

Whisper smiled slightly as she observed the effect her words were having on the two humans. They had been listening impatiently at the beginning; now they were staring in rapt attention.

"By this point ONI had found out about the discovery and had moved in to secure the artifact. Only around 80 mine staff had seen it or been in contact with it, and they were easily taken care of." Whisper noted the way the humans had tensed up as she said this. "We didn't kill them," she said frostily, "despite what you may think about ONI and how we operate, we aren't savages. They were given a substantial sum of money and were relocated off world; on the condition they never reveal what the discovered."

The situation clarified, Whisper returned to her story. "The ONI excavators and scientists studied the object for days without success. Like the miners they were unable to remove a sample to be analyzed, but using various passive sensors they were able to learn a little bit about it. The material it's composed of defies classification as we know it. Our best guess it that it's some unknown form of non-metallic crystal, in an atomic configuration once thought impossible by UNSC material scientists. Our first real breakthrough came from an unexpected direction."

A window again popped up, this time showing a video image. The vantage point was from up on the ceiling, a considerable distance from the artifact judging from the small figures clustered around it. There were about a half dozen of them, standing around and working on a large wheeled device up against the artifact. After a moment they all stepped back and a large piece of the machine rose up and struck a hammer blow against the object. There was no sound feed, but they could see the large dust cloud that was knocked loose by the impact. Suddenly the camera image began to shake violently; the machine had triggered a minor cave-in. Jean could see the small figures darting around, crouched over trying to avoid the falling rocks. As they watched, a bowling ball-sized rock fell and struck one of the figures on the arm, sending him reeling back. His outstretched fingers brushed against the object's smooth surface.

The change was profound. The shaking increased dramatically for a second, then ceased entirely. Every figure visible clasped their hands to their ears, trying to ward off some great noise. Then all the lights the ONI team had set up exploded with bursts of white-hot sparks. The screen went black as the tunnel plunged into darkness.

Slowly however the darkness began to lift and the tunnel was illuminated by a beautiful teal-hued light. The ONI agents, disoriented by the cave-in and the loss of light, stumbled around, looking for the source of illumination. Jean could see their hands fly to their mouths and their arms point as they realized the light was coming from the artifact itself. Dozens of glowing symbols and icons were now visible within the geometric patterns. More importantly they all were pointing in the same direction, towards the right side of the tunnel.

"What happened?" Karl asked, his voice barley above a whisper.

"A very good question, one that deserves further exploration." The video image rewound, back to the initial cave-in. It then tightened in, the view now centered on the scientist who was struck by the falling rock. They watched as he stumbled and his hand reached out and touched the surface, leaving behind a smear of red. Instead of trickling down the wall, it contracted and formed a single hemisphere of liquid. Even more strangely, the wall then absorbed it, the blood disappearing without a trace.

The group stood silent for a moment, contemplating the implications of what they had just seen.

"This machine is clearly both alien and ancient, all indications point to the fact that the last time it saw the sun was when humans were first descending from trees, on a world dozens of light-years away from Earth," Whisper explained. "It remained dormant and inert for all that time, until it was triggered by direct contact with human genetic material. This implies that whoever built it was both aware of the existence of humanity and deemed them worthy to activate and use their technology. It also suggests they knew humanity would one day find this planet and the object."

There was a long pause before anyone spoke. It was Karl who finally broke the silence.

"What happened next?" he asked quietly.

Rather then answer, Whisper raised her hand and another video frame appeared.

It was a time-lapsed video image, from a camera mounted on a large earth-moving machine. It showed a frenzy of activity as the ONI crew began to excavate the right hand side of the tunnel, following the direction of the arrows on the artifact. A timestamp in the bottom corner showed that the team had spent 3 solid days excavating the tunnel, unfailingly following the turquoise icons.