2555 – Two years following the Battle of the Ark

As it drifted through the emptiness of space, the half-vessel Forward Unto Dawn echoed its continuous emergency beacon: "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is UNSC FFG-201 Forward Unto Dawn requesting immediate evac. Survivors aboard, prioritization code: Victor 05-3-Sierra117." The voice speaking the message was feminine, a woman in perhaps her mid to late-twenties. That same voice could be heard whispering and sobbing in the bowels of the ship, particularly near a cluster of cryogenic stasis pods.

"I think we both know the answer to that."

"Humans, Covenant, whatever! We're all equally edible!"

"Slipspace rupture directly off our battle cluster."

"Not a very original plan but at least we know it'll work."

"This is the way the world ends."

"I'll drop a beacon, but it'll be a while before anyone finds us."

The overhead lights sparked and tinged blue continuously as the voice, or rather voices, grew louder and more panicked. Electricity arced between conduits and hallways, scorching the already-worn metal of the Forward Unto Dawn and melting glass viewports. The lights grew dimmer and the static faded when the voice finally said, in a defeated tone, "Years even…"

A console near the cluster of stasis pods buzzed to life, and an image of a young woman appeared. Cortana stood up and surveyed the room, though what she saw was not the room itself, but a hallway that looked like it belonged to a much older ship than the Dawn. Her eyebrows furrowed as she fought to understand her perceived surroundings, seeking a memory that eluded her databanks. At last, Cortana identified the structural familiarities with that of the Halcyon-class light cruiser Pillar of Autumn.

She watched through the synaptic relays of one Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 as he evaded a Covenant Elite's plasma fire. Cortana watched helplessly as the Master Chief dove behind cover, his shields alerting him to their failure. She cried out to him, pleading to whatever deity would listen that he be safe. Her prayers went unanswered as a small orb of blue fire landed just past the Chief's cover: a cooked plasma grenade. Cortana's datastreams skidded to a halt as the grenade detonated, peppering the Master Chief with fire and metal. One particular stream of half-liquefied metal pierced through his visor and out the back of his helmet. The Chief spasmed for a few moments before he at last collapsed in a heap. Cortana shut her eyes in denial as the man, the Spartan who had been her closest friend for nearly the whole of her life, perished in a torrent of plasma and metal.

When she next opened her eyes, Cortana witnessed the Master Chief, alive and well, fire his assault rifle into the gut of a Sangheili. She tried to question the events that had just happened before her eyes, but could find no words, for her attention had been caught by a strange prompt in the upper left corner of the Chief's viewscreen: Hold 'X' to pick up Plasma Rifle. What did this prompt mean? Where did it come from? Moreover, how did John recover from that plasma grenade?

Following the unusual vision, Cortana had been continually bombarded by similar anomalies, all of which struck chords within her memory banks. She watched the Master Chief conversing with 343 Guilty Spark, whom she was very sure had been destroyed on Installation 04's replacement. She saw the Master Chief's warthog escape through the maintenance tunnels of the Autumn and into the single Longsword docked. She heard her own voice speaking to the Master Chief. Then, all went dark. Rendered nearly catatonic by the visions, Cortana tried to interpret and understand them…