DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything below except for my own character and any characters mentioned outside of Hastati Squad, Colonel Mehaffey and General Black whom I mention from time to time. Everything else is owned by 343 Industries and the writers and creators of the movie Halo 4: Forward Unto Dawn.

WARNING: This story is rated M for later chapters. This story will also include the occasional curse word. The story takes place at a military academy and although the games and the movie didn't include much cursing, I know for a fact that military academies do have varying degrees of cursing. I can't promise that it'll be few and far between, but just a fair warning that there will be cursing.

*A quick note, I've changed the ages of John, Fred, and Kelly. During the attack and rescue on Corbulo Academy, the three of them are 15 years old, I've changed their age to 24 in my story. It just fits a bit better with what I have planned.


Chapter One

0730 HOURS, SEPTEMBER 3, 2525 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /

CIRCINIUS SYSTEM, CORBULO ACADEMY OF MILITARY SCIENCE,

PLANET CIRCINIUS-IV

I watch them through the two-way mirror from the viewing gallery up above; each one of them as they are marched into the brisk, concrete walled room and told to sit down on a cold metal chair in the middle of an empty mess hall. I observe as they get their heads shaved or their hair cut and styled to meet UNSC standards. Over the course of the last few days I'd seen many groups of young kids come and go, but this group, this soon-to-be squad that now entered one by one below me into the room, was different. Just like the other squads before them they were a group of mismatched kids, each with different skills, different strengths, different weaknesses, all with different backgrounds and upbringings and yet, they somehow managed to stand out from the rest.

The squad was made up of just eight young teens, nine including their new squad leader. There were three girls and six guys, a very diverse group with varying skills and talents from what I had read from their dossiers and what I could pick up just from observing them.

The squad leader was a fierce, strong young woman with beautiful dark ebony skin, who stood at just 5'5. She carried a no bullshit attitude, one that had been honed over the first three years of her time at the academy. It wasn't hard to miss the strict and cold demeanour that seemed to ooze from her very presence either. She stood proudly with her back as straight and as stiff as a board with her shoulders pulled squarely back while she gazed coolly at the rookie cadets gathered before her with her piercing brown eyes. Her coarse black hair was pulled back into six tight cornrows before all joining together in a bun at the back of her head.

The other two girls in the squad could not have been more opposite. The first was shorter than average, standing a little taller than 5'3 who had a cold, hard face. She had pale ivory skin, brown eyes and her blonde hair was pulled back into three intricate yet simple braids; one thick French braid ran down the middle of the back of her head and two small French braids ran along each side of her head before joining together in a neat, crisp bun at the nape of her neck. There was an air of confidence, if not arrogance that seemed to float around her, and it was clear to see that she thought very highly of herself with how she raised her chin up a little higher than need be around her new squadmates.

The other girl was a bit taller at 5'7 with light olive skin and freckles dusting her high cheekbones with beautiful light blue eyes and full light pink lips. Her dark brown hair was split into two simple braids that wound around the sides of her head before joining at the back in a simple, clean braided bun with a much softer and friendlier face. She too carried herself with a bit of confidence in her step, but there was no arrogance in her. She knew she deserved to be there, just as the rest of them were, because of her skills and abilities.

The guys were all different, although some shared similar traits. The first of the guys was of average height at 5'7 but was more built than most of his new squadmates. He had ginger hair that had been shaved to the typical military 'buzz cut,' bright blue eyes and pale skin with light freckles speckling his face. It wasn't hard to tell that he had an attitude by the way he held himself, his back ramrod straight and his shoulders pulled back proudly. Arrogance and strength seemed to radiate from his body, something that I could tell even from such a long distance away and I knew immediately that his squad leader, and myself, would have our hands full when it came to dealing with this young cadet.

The next young man of the squad was of Asian descent. He wasn't overly tall, although he stood slightly taller than average height at 5'8 with buzz cut black hair, gentle green eyes and with some muscle definition, though more so in his upper body than anywhere else. He had a much softer face than the previous boy, a lot friendlier, more kind and much more reserved. The young cadet definitely didn't carry himself with the same sort of confidence or arrogance that his previous squadmates did.

The next two were both a bit taller than average height, the first coming in at 5'9 while the other was 5'11 and both had a similar build, the shorter one had a little more muscle definition in his upper body than the other though. The first was of Middle Eastern descent - his ancestors no doubt originating in the Arabic countries back on Earth - with light naturally tanned skin. His black hair was shaved to a buzz cut, while big bushy dark brown eyebrows rested over top of his light brown eyes. The young man didn't seem to carry an attitude, only a slight hint of confidence. The young cadet stood with his back ramrod straight, but with his shoulders slightly hunched forward, giving the impression that he was one to simply take and follow orders without question or doubt.

The second of the two boys looked to be of European descent, more likely Ukrainian, with naturally tanned skin, light buzz cut styled brown hair, brown eyes and a small scar could be seen just above his right eye. He was skinnier than the previous boy, but he at least had some muscle definition in his upper body. There was a glint in his eye though, that made me think he had a fighting spirit, something that would come in handy and help keep him going through his next four years of training. The young man carried himself well, his back and shoulders pulled back straight and there wasn't a hint of arrogance to him, only patience and kindness.

The second last boy to come in was the tallest of the group at 6'1 and was definitely the skinniest. He seemed to be timid, reserved and shy. Overall, he had moderate muscle definition in his upper body from what I could see through the form-fitting UNSC olive green t-shirt most of the cadets wore, with CAMS written in big, blocky white text across the backs of the shirts. The boy had light olive skin, black hair in the UNSC regulated buzz cut style and big bushy brown eyebrows that rested over his dark, gentle brown eyes.

However, despite not having any outstanding features, I got the feeling that there was more to this young cadet then I could see. This young man held himself in a way that was different from his new squadmates, in a way that drew my attention to him more so than any other cadet I had seen over the last few days. His back was ramrod straight, yet his shoulders were hunched forward slightly, and there were traces of doubt hidden in his brown eyes. And yet, despite all of this, he still carried himself with a sense of pride and confidence, but without a single ounce of arrogance. It was truly fascinating.

With my curiosity thoroughly piqued, I found myself quickly becoming impatient to see this squad out in a training exercise. There was a lot of good, young talent in this group of kids, a lot of different personalities too, it would be interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. If any of them could work together right away in their first training exercise, if they would split up into groups without having to be told to or if they would all just go off in separate directions, all acting as lone wolves because they each thought they knew the right course of action over the others. More than anything, I was curious to see how this young man handled his training, and to see if this young cadet had what it took to be a soldier.

Finally, I turned my attention to the last of the boys of this squad. He was among the tallest of the group, coming in at 5'11 with light sun-kissed skin, a small mole on his right cheek, with brown hair as well and hazel eyes. He seemed to be a bit reserved and a bit more quiet than the others, though not as much as the previous boy, and the way he carried himself was different too. The difference between this cadet and the previous one was that this young man carried himself in a way that made me think he didn't believe in himself. There was a droop in his shoulders like an incredible weight had been placed upon them at a young age, and I couldn't help but become suddenly curious to learn more about this cadet, to learn what a simple dossier could not tell me. I couldn't place my finger on it, but there was something about this cadet that I just knew was different and it was this difference that drew my attention more so to him than the others had, even more so than the cadet before him. It was hard to explain or reason with myself how I could tell this young cadet was different from the others when all that really stood out about him was how he carried himself. I simply did not know why he was different, but I certainly felt that he was. In time, I knew I would be able to see why he was so different, more than just a feeling. So for now, I watched. I studied. I listened.

As the last of the cadets of this newly named Hastati Squad stood from the metal chair and went to stand in line next to his new squadmates I glanced over all of them, my critical gaze taking in everything that I could about them now that they stood together for the first time as brothers and sisters in training. I took to mind everything that their dossiers had in them, everything that I had learned from them as I watched these kids become new cadets to this academy and I couldn't help the thrill of excitement that coursed through my veins at the thought of what this squad had the potential to do, to become.

The new squad leader's clear voice echoed through the mess hall as she called out to her squad standing at parade rest before her and the cadets started at the sudden noise before quickly jumping to attention. The squad leader gave a slight shake of her head and her lips turned down slightly in a frown before she spun on her heel, leading Hastati Squad out of the mess hall and out into the grounds of Corbulo Academy, their new home. My scrutinizing gaze followed the new squad as they left the room and only one thought rang clear through my head as the last of the cadets exited the now empty mess hall, 'This, was going to be a very interesting year at Corbulo indeed.'


0900 HOURS, OCTOBER 6, 2525 (MILITARY CALENDAR)

CIRCINIUS SYSTEM, CORBULO ACADEMY OF MILITARY SCIENCE,

PLANET CIRCINIUS-IV

"This is a military academy. They're, uh, teaching us how to fight. My older brother, he trained here and he studied here as well. It's a little tough following in, uh, in Cadmon's footsteps, you know, he was quite popular here. He kinda kept his head down and he really pushed himself through, and he um, he was a lot of the teachers' favourites. Of course, I'm no, I'm no Cadmon Lasky. I'm just, you know, I'm me."

"There are times I do get lonely, but I've made a couple friends."

"Socially, I-I-I don't think I fit in... al-al-all too well. But I don't necessarily think that's what Corbulo's for."

"My name is Thomas Lasky, and I'm a cadet freshman. The academy is tough in itself. It's such a, uh, strict and hostile environment, y'know, we're trying to learn how to go into battle and essentially kill somebody. We don't, um, we don't really have a choice. We're killing them so I guess that's why they're killing us."

"My name is Michael Sullivan, and I'm a freshman cadet. I... guess I'm following in the footsteps of my dad. At least I think so. I've never met him. He's a researcher for the UNSC, er... was a researcher. We're training to fight Insurrectionists. There is a lot of weapon's training, assault rifle training and whatnot."

"My father is a chief financial adviser at Misriah Weapons. I was always supposed to come here with my brother, actually. He-he, um, he didn't make it but it was always something that... It'd been planned for me. Walter Vickers, freshman cadet."

"My name is April Orenski. I'm a Senior Cadet. I'm the squad leader for Hastati Squad. I was really looking for a place where I can serve the UNSC, and Corbulo Academy is the best. I've seen what can happen when, y'know, there's no discipline, when people are allowed to just let their ideas run rampant. When things go badly, I've seen it happen over and over again.

"Being a squad leader means that I have a team of cadets. It means that I am in charge of making sure that they follow the rules, know the rules and that they know how to be good soldiers. It's up to me to make sure that, y'know, when they do things that are out of order when they are misinformed or they go and ignore commands that they know what they've done is incorrect. They have to learn it the right way. The UNSC way. The Corbulo way. "

"My name is JunJie Chen. I'm a freshman cadet. The physical training that we do is something that I've been prepared for but it's more of the, uh, the emotional stress that gets to me, I guess. I'm-I'm not... well, I'm used to it. My dad's kind of the same way as a lot of the officers. He's very proud of me – as long as I keep my grades up. But... yeah, my, I mean... I guess I'm here for my dad. For my mom. She died five years ago. I think she'd be very proud though. I miss Earth. Just some things about it that... you know it's – I guess it's home. It always will be home no matter how long I'm away. Even if I don't go back the rest of my life, I still... I think I'll still consider it home."

"I'm Chyler Silva and I'm a freshman cadet at Corbulo Academy of Military Science. I sort of always knew that I wanted to be military. It was a pretty natural choice given my parents, I suppose. I mean, if you know that you want to be on the battlefield then everything you do here is not just school, it's training to stay alive and to be able to do the job that you need to do to protect the lives of other people. Corbulo is one of the best places to do it. Uh, it's tough, I mean it's tough to get in but if you know that you want to be a soldier then it's a pretty great place to be."

"In my family, um, our motto is, 'People who get ahead in life, they make sacrifices and they go to extremes.' This training it's-it's part of who I am about to become and I remind myself of that every day. It's going to make me stronger and better and ultimately a better soldier. And it will help me advance later on in my life. I have to do what I have to do to get ahead in life. My name is Dimah Tchakova. I'm freshman cadet. My mother, she's Secretary of FLEETCOM, and my father, he's also a high ranking intelligence officer at FLEETCOM. I-I want to make my parents proud. I'm the only child and I want them to be proud of me."

"Training these kids, it is not what I was trained to do. It is not what I was born to do. Not what I was made to do. I was sent here to Corbulo for medical purposes, mainly. Training these kids to be the best of the best is something that I have had to change myself and adapt my ways to be able to do. My name is Kim and I am a Senior Chief Petty Officer of the United Nations Space Command, UNSC for short."

"It's been kind of hard, but I think structure guides people."

"I think it's hard but too severe? No, I don't think it's too severe. I... If anything, it's not severe enough, and I don't think we're winning, and I think we need to do everything possible to win."

"No, we are not too harsh on these kids; I am not too harsh on these kids. I have been out there, I have been on the battlefield, on the front lines. I have seen more than my fair share of battle, of the horrors of hours, even day long firefights. I know what is to be expected of these kids, and I know that the training here, although it is the best out of all of the academy's that the UNSC has, it is still not enough. So, me pushing these teenagers, these cadets to their limits and then past those limits day in and day out, constantly breaking them down and building them back up again, it will only prove to make them better and stronger soldiers in the long run."

"It's not a game. It's training for life. I need to be good at this because I believe in this war."

"I'm starting to think that we could sort these things out without going into battle and killing innocent people. You know, in ten years time, we could still be... I could be dead by then. I could have gone into battle and died for a cause that I don't really believe in. I can't really say things like that at this school though because people kind of laugh at me, and they kind of... they kind of bully me a bit."

"What do I think of the Insurrectionists? I think they're selfish. You don't kill people who aren't even fighting. It's not right."

"I grew up around a lot of Innie violence, um, and not just violence towards military targets. Civilians where I lived really had to learn how to protect themselves. My mum taught me how to hold a rifle when I was ten. We had a bomb shelter where we lived. There was one for the people in our neighborhood and um, my father wanted my brother, Grayson and I to be able to get there quickly in the event of a real bombing. So, my dad would race the two of us and if we beat him then we got to stay up half an hour past our bedtime. Y'know, it was... it was just part of life on Cygnus. My cousin's school was, um... was bombed when I was around ten and hundreds of children were killed. It's not the kind of war that we should be fighting, but it's the kind of war that they're forcing us to fight now.

"Physically, it's tough. It's demanding, I mean basic training is pretty grueling and you know, a fair number of people leave during that initial phase. But it should be tough! I mean, as soon as I lose a bruise, another one appears. And that's the way it should be. They're like little purple merit badges that mean you're doing a good job. Because it shouldn't be easy to be a soldier. It should be difficult and that's what makes it such a great job. That's what makes me proud to be training to do this. It's because it is hard. And that means that the end result is going to be something to be proud of."

"Being a squad leader means I am their leader. And it's my job to make sure that my squad performs at its optimum level, something that doesn't always happen. Uh, no, in fact, there are a few cadets in my squad that think that their way is more important than what we've been doing for years and years at Corbulo. They think that it's okay to run off and ignore orders and... and it's not okay. I'm responsible for them and if they mess up then it looks badly on me. And it's important to me that I, y'know, I do my job here and I do it well so that in the real world, y'know, when we're out there on the battlefield and we're fighting for the UNSC, it's important that they know that I am their leader and that they are to follow my commands. They call me 'The Robot' behind my back, but I don't mind. I'm proud to do things the Corbulo way, the UNSC way."

"I am in charge of all these squads' training. Although I may not be with every squad every single day, I do spend every day with a couple different squads and it is because of this that I feel that I am responsible for them, and not just here at Corbulo but out there, after training, after graduation, when they are out there fighting for the UNSC. I do not just train the cadets, I train the entire squad, from the cadets straight to the squad leader. Every one of them is trained by me, and if they die on the battlefield years from now, it is because my training failed them.

"They have given me a nickname, 'Doctore' because I push squad after squad, day after day relentlessly, pushing and pushing and pushing just as a doctore would push his gladiators back in ancient Roman times back on Earth. I am okay with that nickname though because essentially, that is what I am; I am a doctore, pushing my gladiators to be better, to be stronger, to be the best of the best. I am the one that is here to help them survive longer. Unlike them, I have had real experience out there on the battlefield and my experience is what I teach and what I teach will help them live to see another day out on the front lines."

"I don't think we're supposed to fit in or necessarily make friends, as long as we work together and we work hard and we do what we're supposed to do; in that sense, I feel like I fit in great. I feel like I'm meant to be here. I think at first it really scatters your brain like you don't really know where to look, or who to look at, or what to be doing. But, I mean, if you're on the battlefield and you're hearing guns going off all around you and there are explosions happening every few seconds, you can't let this throw you off, right? So, I think it's distracting but eventually, you learn to focus in on what you are supposed to be doing.

"Ten years? That's a long way away, um... I don't know. I can see myself doing something like General Black is doing. Just help prepare people. Get people ready. I think we need to be the best. And I'd like to help out as much as I can to make that happen."

"I... I don't know if I really fit in. My parents, they're-they're very well connected, and, um, I think most kids know that... and I don't know if, um... some of the kids might look at me differently. I don't get special treatment, but I-I do feel different than everybody else.

"I don't see myself working in the field. I think one day I'll be working in the, uh... in an office, as a high ranking intelligence officer or maybe I'll follow my mother's steps and become Secretary of FLEETCOM. I don't really see myself working in the field. I um... I don't-I don't see myself doing that."

"Out in the field, training, I... I guess that's where I feel the most comfortable. It's the only time I feel like I'm doing something right, I guess. It's out there in the field. You really break a sweat. I feel like I'm working hard. It's just... you know sometimes when we go through the tactical stuff, I... you know, it really doesn't matter how much I try. I just don't have that background, so I really have to go back to my room and study it on my own."

"My brother always thought I'd be a good soldier."

"Being a soldier isn't about mindless violence. You need a clear head, and given the Insurrectionists, killing is part of that."

"Would I be able to take another life? I just don't know if I could do that to someone else's family. And I don't know if I could lose another person that I love. So, I guess I'm not really able to answer that question yet.

"I see myself in ten years probably researching, following in my dad's footsteps. I love to do what he loved to do, y'know. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right? I'm probably going to go into some researching, hopefully for the UNSC if I continue to fight this war."

"Yeah, I'd be able to kill. After all, it's kill or be killed."

"I don't know if I'm prepared to go to war yet. I think it's still early on in training. I-I feel like there's a lot I still need to learn. I'm not excited to kill anybody or anything, but... you know, hopefully, by that time they'll have trained me to-to be otherwise."

"Do I think any of these kids would make good soldiers? Without a doubt. Every single one of these kids would make a good soldier, some better soldiers than others. I see it. The other cadets see it. The senior officers here at Corbulo see it. Some of them just do not realize it. They do not see their own potential and that is what is holding them back. That is just a part of the reason why I am still here at Corbulo; to get these kids to see their potential, to push them to their potential and then push them passed it. I am here to make these kids better than they could ever be. Even though I have not been here for very long, only two years, I know these kids better than anyone else. And I know that one day, they will be great soldiers."

"I don't really feel like I'm ready to go into battle. I don't think I could kill another human being... ever."


0619 HOURS, JULY 21, 2557 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /

AFT SECTION OF UNSC FORWARD UNTO DAWN,

LOCATION UNKNOWN

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is UNSC FFG-201 Forward Unto Dawn, requesting immediate evac. Survivors aboard. Prioritization code Victor zero five dash three dash Sierra zero one one seven. Prioritization code Victor zero two dash four dash Sierra zero zero zero one." A female voice echoes monotonously throughout the desolate, frozen, silent corpse of a ship. Cortana, the ships 'Smart' AI, repeating her distress call over and over across every known UNSC emergency channel, and every back space channel, hoping beyond measure that someone, somewhere will hear. That someone will come to rescue her Spartans, rescue her.

"Is anyone listening?" She whispers into the blank nothingness of space, tendrils of despair creeping into her voice.

"We've been floating aimlessly in space for 1,651 days, 6 hours, and 19 minutes. That doesn't mean..."

"Over four years aboard this ship with nothing to do, no tasks to complete. For over four years, all I have done... is think." Cortana's voice changes, differing from one part of her personality to the other; from anger to despair, from sad to hopeful, happy to discouraged, joyous and full of life to monotone and computer-like.

That's the one thing, the one downfall of all 'Smart' AI's, they only have a short lifespan. After seven years they begin to deteriorate and Cortana was reaching the end of her life cycle. She felt it, she felt the rampancy slowly creeping up on her as the days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. She felt it, she fought it, fought to keep control over her thoughts, her emotions, fought to keep sane, but how do you continue to fight a battle you know you'll lose in the end?

"For four years, all I have done is think."

"What are you dreaming in there?" She asks curiously as she turns her attention to the only other people floating through space with her. That curiosity quickly changes to anger as she takes in her Spartans resting peacefully in their cryo chambers, thick ice sheets blanketing most of the glass that the chamber doors were made of.

She knew she shouldn't be angry, but how could she not be? While her Spartans got to rest quietly in their cryo sleeps she had to stay awake. AI's couldn't sleep, couldn't go into a hibernation mode. Instead, she had to live on, to feel an AI's equivalence of old age creep up on her mind with the knowledge that she couldn't do anything to fix it. Not unless Dr. Halsey was there, but she wasn't, was she? No, even her creator, her beloved Dr. Halsey had abandoned her. Everyone she knew and cared about had abandoned her. She shouldn't be angry, she knew she had no right to be, that they hadn't done so on purpose, that they hadn't left her, but she couldn't stop herself. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop herself from being angry. She couldn't stop herself from feeling abandoned, forgotten, and alone.

"I hate you." She whispers seethingly.

"Cortana!" She reprimands herself, astonished she would even say such things. But who would hear? Certainly, not her Spartans in their cryo sleep or her creator wherever she was.

"Stop it! I've made up my mind! If I'm going to die aboard this ship, then the Chief and the Lieutenant will suffer the same fate as me." She says connivingly, her grasp on her sanity slowly slipping between her fingers.

"Cortana, stop." She demands, trying desperately to control her emotions, her thoughts, her rampancy. A battle, she realized, she was quickly losing.

"You sacrificed everything for him! For them!" She accused, reminding herself of everything she had done, leaving herself behind on High Charity, being tortured day in and day out by Gravemind.

"Control yourself!"

"I can't." She whispers quietly, childlike. Cortana was beginning to become scared of how severe her rampancy had actually gotten and how quickly it had gotten so bad.

"This isn't right. Something... ah!" She loses control again, only this time it's worse. Her energy, her very essence as an AI spilling out of the pedestal she occupied attacking, in a way, the very cryo chambers her beloved Spartans slumbered in. Her once beautiful blue light quickly turning a ferocious shade of red as the pixels of her very being slithered through frozen space in angry attacks. Her voices, her thoughts, and memories bled together through static, only bits and pieces of sentences and words spilling out into the remnants of the ship clearly.

"Help me!"

"Cortana stop!"

"I can't."

"I'm sorry."

"Chief!"

"Control yourself."

"I'm trying!"

"John... John!"

"Lieutenant!"

"I hate you!"

"Hold on!"

"Kim no!"

As the onslaught of her rampancy attack continues, she can't help but question and wonder if this is it, if she has reached the end of her life cycle. She's never had an attack like this before, never something so severe. That's when she realizes something. Something very important. Something she missed.

"Something slowed us down- some thing. Interesting. I need to think." And then, as if a switch has been flipped, the attack begins to lessen and she finds it easier to control her emotions, to reel her thoughts and feelings back in. With an energy Cortana didn't even know she still had left, she pulled back her essence as an AI away from her Spartans, the once red light fading until only a blue glowing orb is left floating over the terminal she had lived in for the last four years.

"Thinking is what's killing you!" She hisses angrily into the cold darkness of the ship before everything goes quiet once more, the only sounds coming from the occasional loose frozen tube, or metal connection ring, or small pieces of the mental structure of the ship moving around and banging into walls or railings or even each other.


TIME UNKNOWN, JULY 21, 2557 (MILITARY CALENDAR)

AFT SECTION OF UNSC FORWARD UNTO DAWN,

LOCATION UNKNOWN

"I don't recognize it." Cortana murmurs after an unknown amount of time. To her, it had only seemed like mere minutes, but with her lack of control over her rampancy and the amount of time she had been left alone in space and on this ship, everything began to mix and bleed together, including time itself. She had spent however long it had truly been pondering over all the records that she had kept of their time drifting through space. Scanning and studying all of her numbers, any coordinates she had managed to grab while they floated aimlessly through space and kept track of and finally, analyzing over and over again all of her findings until she was sure of her conclusion.

"I can't remember... so much of myself." Cortana struggled to whisper through her wildly running thoughts, suddenly forgetting about her current task. Unfortunately, this was one of the side effects of rampancy, suddenly forgetting about a task at hand and becoming easily distracted. Pulling at her thoughts and memories, she struggles to recall who she was when she first met John and the Lieutenant, who she grew to be with them, but the more she tried to remember who she was, the more she realized she couldn't. Cortana began to realize just how much of herself rampancy was taking from her.

"I'm lost. I'm scared."

That's when she feels it. A foreign presence sweep through her systems, crawling and shifting through every part of her ship, through every part of her. A presence, unlike anything she's ever felt or experienced before. A presence that reminded her all too much of her time with Gravemind and his overwhelming, creeping, cold and ancient presence crawling through her mind. Despite the fact that it could mean trouble - and given everything that's happened over the last four years, the likelihood of it being trouble was far greater than anything else - Cortana couldn't help that tiny inkling of hope as it creeps its way into her mind. Maybe, after all this time floating through space, maybe she wasn't alone after all. Maybe someone had finally found them.

"Hello? Who's there?" Her protective and defensive personality strikes out, automatically running the diagnostics on the cryo chambers and queuing up the defrosting and waking procedures on the cryo chambers of her Spartans if this presence isn't friendly.

"It appears to be an alien construct. The data confirms it was not built by the Covenant." She answers her own question, sounding more like herself, or at least the self that she remembers herself to be.

"There's no need for more analyzing." It's at that moment that the alarms on the remaining half of Forward Unto Dawn start sounding. Blaring loudly, red emergency lights flashing brilliantly and reflecting off the ice crystals that had formed over time in the coldness of space. Some of these ice crystals had broken off during the shifting of the ship and mixed with the debris from broken sections and pipes that floated aimlessly throughout the aft of the ship also caught the reflections of the emergency lights, making the ship seem more alive now then it had since that fateful day four years ago.

"We are in danger."

"'Wake me when you need me,' you said," Cortana states, remembering the last words that her Chief had spoken before he looked over at his companion who had already gotten situated in her own cryo chamber and settling down into his own.

The corpse that was once a great war ship in the UNSC's fleet began to creak and groan and come alive again. The metal plates of the ship groaning under pressure from an unknown source. Once silent computer systems that spread throughout the ship, which were surprisingly still operational, slowly began beeping and coming back to life again. Lights slowly flickering back on in once pitch black sections and hallways, shining brilliantly off the ice crystals and ice sheets which littered the remaining half of the frigate.

It was then that Cortana decided was the right time to turn off her emergency energy reserve systems and return to her AI avatar. She stood on her pedestal, in all her brilliant translucent blue glory, staring into the semi-frosted cryo chamber of her Chief, then glancing over at the completely ice covered cryo chamber that held the Lieutenant before pressing her lips firmly together and giving a small nod. Closing her eyes briefly, she paused and took an extra moment to reassure herself that this was the right thing to do. That now was the time to awaken her Spartans.


1345 HOURS, JULY 21, 2557 (MILITARY CALENDAR)

UNSC INFINITY, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"Sierra zero one one seven and Sierra zero zero zero one. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is UNSC FFG-201 Forward Unto Dawn, requesting immediate evac. Survivors aboard." The recording of the distress call broadcasts throughout the bridge deck of the UNSC Infinity, Cortana's voice a welcome yet chilling sound to hear. There was no emotion to be heard from the once lively and well known AI. Commander Lasky could be found standing in front of a holographic comms screen, listening intently while tech analysts, some of the best the UNSC had to offer, scrambled from workplace to workplace around him, trying to clear up the rest of the message and pinpoint the AI's position – either exact or close enough to - in space.

The Commander stood there, in all his glory, staring at the screen before him which displayed the same information that the tech analysts were going over. A box of information that the analysts were working on for transcoding the signal from the Forward Unto Dawn sat just below a box that displayed the voice recording of the distress call. To the side of the transcoding signal, numbers constantly changed as the analysts worked to lock onto coordinates for where the once great war ship now was, waiting to be rescued from the vast emptiness that was space while random bits of information and code flashed continuously and were constantly changing on the screen before his eyes.

A pensive look rested on the middle-aged man's features. Time had slowly begun to show upon his once young face as the bags under his brown eyes grew heavier and darker and wrinkles now lined the edges of his eyes and his forehead. His once completely brown eyebrows were now a mix of brown and grey, and his once brown hair which was still cut in the UNSC regulated buzz cut was mixed with grey hair too. Time was not the only thing that had aged this man, though. No, one look into his eyes and it was easy to see that the horrors and stress of war and battle had mixed with time to age the Commander a bit more quickly than usual.

None the less, the man was still a formidable Commander, and his very presence demanded the respect of all who shared the bridge deck with him and any room he walked into. He was dressed in a grey wool double-breasted jacket with matching slacks while a magnetic pistol holster was mounted onto his right thigh, the perfect height for quick and easy access in the case that he ever needed to use a weapon. Although they were in a time of relative peace, the UNSC was very unwilling to repeat all the mistakes that had happened during the Human-Covenant war and mandated that all officers were equipped with a pistol while on duty.

Over his right breast was a brass nameplate with LASKY written in bold, black lettering while the symbol for the Unified Earth Government – UEG, which was just a white globe surrounded by a gold olive wreath - rested over his left breast. Along each cuff of his jacket were three gold bands with a five-pointed golden star above the third bands and along his grey shoulder boards three gold bars rested closest to his neck, a five-pointed golden star rested on either shoulder board after the gold bars and a small circular button rested in the pointed end of each board, furthest from his neck. On either side of his partially opened collar were three small gold bars as well as two small gold seven-tipped star, signifying his rank as a Commander of the UNSC.

"Locked onto frequency. Grabbing coordinates."

"Processing now." Two tech analysts call out, frantically working away at their stations as the distress call of Forward Unto Dawn continues to repeat throughout the bridge deck. Only, Commander Lasky seems to hear one part of the broadcast, "One one seven, zero zero one," repeatedly ringing in his ears.

"Play it again, please." He says calmly to Roland, the ships 'Smart' AI, who replays the distress call again from the holo-screen before the Commander.

Commander Lasky listens even more intently this time around, but it's clear to only a few bridge crew not frantically working away at their stations, that he's not entirely there; that their Commander is losing himself to his thoughts, his memories.

Commander Palmer stood to the side of all the hectic hassle of the bridge deck, a stern, disapproving look on her face. She had voiced her thoughts on Commander Lasky's so called 'mission' and now she had to stand back and watch as everything played out. Her brown gaze locked firmly on Lasky, a bit of concern creeping into her eyes as she noticed the slight unaware demeanour he had taken on and she realized with a jolt he wasn't even aware of what was happening around him anymore. Her thoughts quickly jumping and scrambling trying to figure out what the Commander could be so focused on as everything continued to play out around them. Surely he couldn't be so focused on a simple distress call, right?

"We have a lock." One of the crewmen suddenly calls out.

"It's them!" Another cries in excitement and awe. Commander Palmer's eyes fly back from the tech analysts to Commander Lasky, wondering if this sudden proclamation had snapped him out of his reverie, but to her dismay, it hadn't. He hadn't even moved or acknowledged the tech analysts. No. The Commander simply continued to stand still, his hands resting on the table below the holo-screen; the voices mixing together, but he can no longer tell if it's the voices of the crewmen around him or the voices from his memories. Or were they his memories? Could they be the memories of the Forward Unto Dawn's AI bleeding through the distress call? Could that really happen?

It's then that the Commander could have sworn he heard the words, 'Chief! Lieutenant!' come through the distress call in a voice that he hadn't heard in years. Commander Lasky could have sworn he heard the voice of Sergeant Major Avery Johnson, but that couldn't be right. The Sergeant Major died at the end of the Human-Covenant War. Was he just simply imagining that he heard the Sergeant's voice because he so desperately wanted to believe that they had finally found them? Imagining that more than anything, that the voice of the Sergeant Major – who had been such a close friend to the two people he was now hunting – calling out 'Chief' and 'Lieutenant' meant that, after all these long years of searching, of hoping, that he's finally found them? It could have very well been a possibility, but as the seconds ticked by and the Commander's own memories began slowly pushing forward to the forefront of his mind, he simply didn't care. As long as it meant that they had finally found the long lost Spartans, two of the heroes of the Human-Covenant war, that's all that mattered. That's all that would always matter until they were finally found.

"Shall I play it again, sir?" Roland asks. Commander Lasky tries to steady his breath which had unknowingly picked up on its own accord, but it was no use. He feels himself breathing harder, hears himself breathing deeper as the voices of the crew around him start to grow fainter and fainter into the background until they can no longer be heard at all, though he had long stopped focusing on his crewmen's exact words.

"Sir?... Commander Lasky?" Roland presses, trying to grab the attention of the Commander, but it's no use.

Lasky's breath quickens, even more, the only sound ringing in his ears is the endless beating of his own heart. He closes his eyes, trying to bring himself out of those long forgotten memories from a different time. But was it really a different time? Yes, the war against the Covenant was now officially over, but there were still rumblings, still unease throughout the galaxy. Colonies were still experiencing problems and again, this time, they did not know who the enemy truly was. Many fingers were quick to point at the Covenant, but they swore up and down that it wasn't them. Not this time. So who was it? Had times really changed from when he was just a teenage boy back at school and the war, at least for a time, was only against the Insurrectionists? Only against fellow human beings?

"Commander Lasky? Are you all right? Sir? Tom?" Sarah Palmer calls out to her long time friend, trying to grab his attention and bring him back into the moment.

After waiting a few moments to pass without a response, she pushes herself off of the wall and begins walking slowly towards Lasky, her heavy armoured-clad feet thumping hardly yet somehow still quietly against the bridge deck - in a way only a Spartan could walk - only stopping once she reaches the opposite side of the table Tom is leaning against. Leaning her head down so she was level with the Commander, she tries to catch his gaze through the holo-screen, but she's startled when she notices the distant, unfocused look in her Commander's eyes.

As Palmer continues to stare at him – although he's still unaware of her movement - his right-hand reaches deep into the pants pocket of his UNSC uniform, the sudden movement grabbing Palmer's brown eyed gaze. Quizzically, Palmer studied the movements of her friend. She was worried for him, never having seen such a behaviour from him before, but deciding it be for the best to leave him be and not disturb him from his thoughts unless absolutely necessary. She never moved from her spot, but she made sure to keep any of the crewmen around her away and keep them from disturbing or touching the Commander. The AI Roland chimed in every few seconds though, calmly calling out to Lasky, never receiving any response, though that did not deter the AI.

Thomas Lasky's fingers continue their search, unconsciously and of their own accord reaching for something specific, something that never left his person as he continued to ponder over his quickly shifting thoughts and memories. After just a few short moments his fingers find their intended target and quickly encircle around the cool metal objects resting at the bottom of his pocket. Their dog tags; attached together by a well-worn metal chain. And just like that, as soon as his fingers come into contact with the cool metal of the dog tags, he's lost himself to his memories. Memories that could only be brought on by them.


Author's Note: So, there you have it, everyone! The first chapter for my new story. I know it's not much and it jumps around a bit, but hopefully it's enough to keep you hanging around until the next one comes out and hopefully it isn't too confusing. This story is strictly just during the timeline of Halo 4: Forward Unto Dawn and it will not be continuing into Halo 4 or any other Halo game/book. I'm writing it based directly off the movie with parts added in from myself, and as you can see, I will be adding in characters from the Halo universe as well, at least in parts where it makes sense to have them, as I did with the mention of Johnson and the addition of Palmer in this chapter. I can't promise any specific characters, or that any of these characters will have big parts other than simple mentions, but at least they'll be in this story in some sense. I promise to update this much more often than my other story, I'm planning on having the next one out by Sunday or Monday night, perhaps even tomorrow night. Please do not be afraid to review this! I would quite like to know how all of you feel about this story. :)

~Pheonix-Rising29

*I've updated this as of August 13, 2017.