Hello people, just a heads up that it'll be 2-3 chapters before the X-over, but I'll do my best to entertain you between now and then, and of course, explanations for how everything happens;]
Bioware owns Mass Effect, Bungie owns HALO. (And I owe them so much;])
For all the bluster and bravado officers tended to place on planning and execution of operations, Operations Chief Ashley Williams could only find a readily blurring line between her job and theirs lately. The who, where, what, and when of how the killing was supposed to go down was an officers burden, and the maintenance, discipline, and cohesion of it fell to the non-commissioned ranks.
Or as Gunny Ellison had so poetically put it, "To un-fuck things."
A sloshing of hard-suits through knee deep water brought her thoughts to the present, her platoon done with the last of Ilos' demarcation lines, finally cleared building by building and room by room... again. Anyone with a hand in the first expedition knew it was an abortive effort before it started; Shepard's passing had sounded the death nell to any of her pet pojects, even one as grand as Ilos.
That the VI wasn't operating wasn't why it was all abandoned, it had simply been the excuse everyone was looking for.
All assets scattered abroad to shore up the Traverse and securing the Citadel while they re-built, the operation couldn't have been more fractured if it had tried. No one wanted to believe the Reapers were real, that all life had almost been lost in just minutes at the Citadel's gate; to acknowledge that meant to be inevitabley bound to act on it, which no one, or species, had been willing to accept.
Not until today.
Or technically, three months ago when the Collector's base had been seized by none other then humanity's resurrected Spectre, and glamorized across the cosmos today. The spectacle and media frenzy that it had whipped up had reached the Corsairs, deep recon at the Skyllian frontier, and even her crew here, omni-tool displays playing out the ceremony so often there was no avoiding it, even if anyone wanted to... which Ashley did more then anything.
The meander of the camp's search lights finally pulled her gaze from the ground, daring anything to come close enough to endanger those inside. A deadly mistake to any who dared, Ashley knew; the auto-cannons the lights were slaved to were ranged out to 1800 meters past the 400 meter perimeter the early warning systems provided them, making them just as much a trap as defence.
She could hear the scuffing of boots on the ancient flooring, exhaustion a foregone fact of the marines from their last sweeps; at least the naval staff kept the perimeter for them. Nice the marines could deploy in force and not babysit the camp, but too much trust had been placed in this so-called re-writing of these 'Heretic' Geth in her eyes to just abandon the orbital defence entirely.
At least not by anyone here you had actually fought them.
Raising a weary eye to the 100 foot walls of the catacombs, she realized just how little of this place she had taken in in her work here... or two years ago. Just the cost of too much focus, she knew, but that's what it took to be a Williams in the Alliance. This little village of prefabs was her responsibility amongst this enigmatic colossus, its scurry of bodies and heavy machinery her concern to keep everything running smoothly.
Anything to do here, with anything to be found here, was above her pay grade and not her worry... her marines were.
"Alright boys, nice work. You've earned your rack tonight. Cooks are on Sunday routine, so you'll get breakfast right up to 1000, and that also means suits and rifles get a wipe-down. Dismissed 'til 0700 Monday." She spoke candidly, punctuated with a chime of her omni-tool that killed any hope of early sleep.
"VIP in prefab A3 requesting your company, Chief Williams. Turns out the brass got a lot of their funding for this expedition out of this asari, so nothing but smiles. See you at orders 1100 tomorrow. Lt-Col Bayeux."
Oh, the good sir and his charming manner. A quickly glanced showed her destination several rows over from her barrack, and set off with all thoughts towards prompt diplomacy and hasty return to quarters.
Besides the perimeter towers taking up the night watch, very little stirred in this little camp beneath the stars. Humming of generators, the odd break of the skylight by freighters with the ongoing salvage work, but the air remained cool and thick with the smell of rotting vegetation.
Approaching her destination, the oval shape of their helmets always giving the asari away, whoever it was quite focused on her data-pad as Williams made her approach to A3's entrance. The asari hastily put her work aside with a green smile for the marine, disarming and curiously... familiar.
"Wait... Shiala, right?" Ashley staring at the palour of the asari commando. "Geez, I thought my sister was crazy for dyeing her hair red, but skin tones? Far out."
After a short laugh that didn't reach her eyes, Shiala finally spoke. "Not quite, just a side-effect of my time amidst the Thorian, though my biotics may be a bit longer on the mend. I feel almost shamed by such conventional armour, but if I'm to fulifill my duties from now on it will have to do." Running a hand over her ablative plated get-up in lieu of her commando leathers.
"Wait... they kept you inside the perimeter? Damn, you've got more combat experience then whole encampment put together, why'd they keep you behind?"
"Even some years after Matriarch Benezia's death, there is still some stigma attached to her inner circle from her choice of affiliations." Her intense eyes softening for just a moment. "It seems any good I do will have to be done with scrutiny for some time. But please, pay me no mind. Our benefactor is expecting you, and was hoping to surprise you, so I shouldn't keep you any longer."
With a smile and a nod, Ashley strolled past, only to pause at the prefab's door. "Shiala, living with someone else's decisions is just... I know. Believe me, I know."
With the hiss of the door closing behind her, thoughts quickly turned to her own life, one of being the name of humankind's only dent to its indomitability. Weaving around several floor containers, a room full of dug up history seemed just sickly sweet to the marine as she made her way to the second floor belcony past the Prothean salvage.
Marines were supposed to be what stands between harm and the civilans they protect. They choose to stand in the way of the harm that's there... not being the thing they come for. Her grandfather knew that, too.
She'd taken apart every piece of the Battle of Shanxi, numbers, scenarios, preparations,... it all pointed to one thing: inevitable and unacceptable loss of civilian life for the continuance of any resistance movement. But it wasn't about practical military necessity or long odds; it was about the belief of humankind's imperviousness being shattered.
She, and every Williams' since, had to be the embodiment of strength and everything the Alliance stood for. Nothing about them could be allowed to convey weakness or lack of integrity, or what they knew as a family, and it had shaped her her entire life. The sharpness of her tongue, the sheer pigheadedness of her convictions, even her unfaltering loyalty to an institution that kept her under wraps her whole career; it was simply the shape she needed to take to become who she was.
Finally reaching the loft, and beginning to feel the fatigue she was truly in, she was greeted by a warmly decorated interior. With water stains browning her suit right the knees, smelling like a compost heap, and rounding it all off with waft of dried sweat, the scent of rose oil and fresh cut flowers certainly put her at odds with whoever this asari financier was. The centre piece was definitely the dining table; linen seets, folded napkins, and what looked to be prime rib (or varren for all she knew) and had the marine salivating at first glance
Extra thorough with wiping her boots on the rug, she made a quick walk of the place as she waited, there had to be something here to give her some idea of who she was dealing with. Typical asari decor with some sleek statuettes poised here and there, some warbling music in the background for a somber atmosphere, and a lone wall stacked with some bound books and several photos.
Set against the sheet metal of the habitation unit, one could claim that this place was downright homey. Everything here said 'rich and sophisticated' to the soldier, with the exception of the lone photo set amongst the archived catalogs, which was enough give her pause.
Williams didn't just know that photo... she was in it.
It was a life time ago, at least to her, seeing all those faces together onboard the SR-1. A group photo of the ground team just shortly after the Terra Nova operation. A lone bench in engineering, everyone clustered around their beloved leader.
Wrex giving the camera the finger with his typical shit-eating grin, Garrus standing with martial poise, and Tali with a hand on her hip, always eager to return to engineering. There she was giving Kaidan a friendly 'pistol-finger' to the head while she held him a headlock, Shepard giving a laugh as her Lt still tried to muster a smile. Then, on end, was Liara. Sitting with hands properly on her lap, docile smile and soft eyes. Not even a crease in her lab suit, she looked like a flower set amongst thorns with all the coloured hardsuits about her.
Wait... T'soni? The biotic fucking princess is... Williams taking a step back from the shelf, her thought concluded by the voice behind her.
"Hello, Ashley." Liara's voice bringing the human back to the now. A few steps put the asari at the head of the table, a wave of her arm welcoming Ashley to join her as she fixed her napkin across her lap. "I'd hoped to arrive sooner, but some last minute affairs at Feros held me longer then I anticipated."
Williams quietly placed herself opposite her old teammate, her words faltering at the new aura surrounding the asari. This... she was all business, there was no kind words or the gentle holding of hands as she used to greet others. Even as a guest, Ashley still felt like a fly on the wall as she watched Liara begin her meal.
With Shepard, she had known what to say when she had met face to face, but this was right out of left field. And being the financier? Ashley didn't even want to fathom what the cost of the helium-3 was for their support ships was itself, much less the materials and danger pay. What had T'soni been up to?
"Penny for your thoughts?" Liara's voice breaking the trance, using a jestful tone as she filled the human's wine glass. "Your mind seems quite preoccupied. Thoughts of your last time here, or trying to make sense of the Alliance's new Directorate division?"
"Yeah, something like that. So... Shiala, she's with you now?" Ashley making a quick deflection as she found her wits. "You took yourself all the way to Feros for her?" Her hands finally making their way to the utensils before her.
"She was still making good on her promise to better the colony, but some recent developments point to everyone of skill being needed, exactly where they serve with utmost ability. With the Reapers finally recognized as more then fairytales, the best will have to be taking real action against them. Your own application to the Ns for selection in May says you understand this as well as anyone."
Ashley's fork paused half-way to her mouth as Liara's words sunk in.
How the... what the hell? Ashley leaned back into her seat. She looked and reminded her of Liara, but... who was this?
Her last memory of the doctor had been at Shepard's funeral at Arcturus, sitting quietly as the Councilors spoke. It was beyond Ashley how Liara hadn't cried through any of it. The doctor had approached all the team with her gentle words, even convincing Wrex to let her in close for a hug.
"May the Goddess protect you, Ashley Williams." She had said before her departure, only her eyes betraying the pain she felt as she comforted others.
"You're certainly breaking new ground. When did you learn to get under peoples skin so cordially? Eating meat? Financing Alliance expeditions? And bringing a commando with you? Well it's not exactly... you... is it?" Ashley beginning to squirm a little as she looked into Liara's eyes. Any innocence in them were replaced with cold and calculation, though a hint of genuine concern still lingered there.
"We all become what we must in order to move on, Ashley. That's always been the quality I respected most of all in you; however good a person you are or may have become otherwise, you knew it would never silence those who hold your family in shame. How many of them do you were cowed by seeing you earn the Star of Terra? How many can only stand by and watch as go to N selection after so many years of effort? Against so much and so many, and you made it all your own."
Liara put her cutlery down as she looked squarely at the marine opposite, leaning intently towards her company.
"That's the greatest piece of why I'm here. Did you know Shiala was my trainer on Thessia? Her focus was the envy of my mother's academy and all its candidates; she was as lethal as she was wise. Who she is, now, is why I went to Feros. It's her shame and guilt that held her there, not her promise to the colony. Against everything she once stood for, she killed and was an instrument for evil; she wanted to remain somewhere where she and her pain could hide away. I owe her a chance to reclaim herself, just as she helped me in my youth to learn who I was."
"As to why I'm here, there's Vigil and some salvage to be claimed... and then there's you." Liara's head canted inquiryingly. "Shepard tells me you passed on the oppertunity to join in fighting the Collectors when you two crossed paths; what I heard wasn't the Ashley I knew, sparing yourself the chance to take out the source of the attacks on your people? I knew there was something here for me to rectify, that Shiala can use the Cipher to speed up this operation was simple serendipity. You have a path that you've strayed from... and I'm here to help."
"Help me?" Ashley glared at Liara sidelong. " Straying from my path? Okay, I don't need a sage to tell me my fortune, and it was me walking my 'path' that brought me here. You're saying I should've just abandoned my men and the Alliance to go work for terrorists and a "Shepard" that could've been a clone for all I knew? That's "abandoning my path" to you?"
"Yes." Liara's tone held no emotion. " You've always had good instincts, Ashley, I know you understood you were dealing with the true Shepard, but you choose safety instead. Your disconnected from your own principles... you don't know where your loyalties lay anymore, despite your claims to the contrary."
"Oh, is that right, princess? You think going broke financing some hair-brained expedition and leading me by the nose to my "path" is going to do what? Redeem me?" Ashley's voice rising as she felt her back against a wall. "I answer to the Alliance, not terrorists, and certainly not some 'holier-then-thou' asari thinking she going to tell me how to run my life!"
Liara only looked at her intently, a smile quirking at her purple lips at her company's expense.
"Still as hot-blooded as I remember. But, due realize, two years of business litigation and intelligence peddling on Illeum would make anyone's skin as impervious to barbs as a krogan; I'm no exception. And this expedition's cost is, in truth, a pittance. I've come into possession of another brokerage recently, and sold it's ubiquitous faculties piecemeal... for more then I'd have ever imagined. But that's a tale for another time."
Continuing with her meal with a practiced grace, Liara ate with calm as Ashley stewed in a mental stupor she hadn't experienced since basic training. She couldn't think, move, or even absorb what was unfolding before her. But as any true warrior, she wasn't off-balance very long.
" Just... you... fucking hold on a minute! No more mincing words, why are you here and what the hells does it have to do with me?" An armored guantlet slammed into the table as the marine tried to regain control of the situation.
"You... are coming with me, at noon tomorrow. Your commander will be telling you all this at your orders group at 1100, but there's no reason you shouldn't know now. With the Normandy falling under Alliance control again, so will its crew accompaniment; you'll be the new requisition officer until your selection. Shepard's promised a place for us both, as your new posting orders will mention, and you'll have a chance to make good on... well, anything that's been left unturned.'' Liara's eyes only fell on a dinner roll as she broke and buttered it.
"The... fuck? You think for an instant..." Williams' tirade cut-off as a concussion of dark enegy enveloped her as she sat.
Only it never connected like a wrecking ball that she had seen in Liara's biotic power, now only a faint ripple of pressure washing about her body. She watched as Liara's corona retracted, the marine's heart skipping a beat as she gazed at the pure black that consumed the asari's eyes.
She usually had a threshhold mesh on standby for whenever they suspected a base or ship was heavy with asari personnel, but she wasn't prepared for a fight... certainly not with a creature like the one before her.
Her stare unflinching and unbroken, Liara only sat and let her gaze pour into Ashley for a moment, the room's light slowly returning to the gentle glow of the candles. In the tense stand-off that lingered, there was only the sound of breathing filling the room, Liara finally breaking the stalemate as she turned back to her plate.
"I didn't want to force your hand, Chief Williams, but I knew it was an inevitable measure. Life is too short, many lives are cut short, and I won't let any I care for walk from the path I know they're meant for." Her asari demeanor returning as she explained, her eyes turning to her wine glass with a shimmer.
"To old friends and new journies." Liara raising her glass to Ashley in a toast, acting as though her biotic display was already a forgotten memory. Seeing little recourse, Williams raised her own glass with a plastic smile, realizing her nerve had just been undone by the woman to her front as the 'ting' of their glasses sounded.
A life time of resolve, and literally hundreds of hours in firefights, hadn't been enough to hold her own against the doctor in this little battle of wills. There was none of the gentle eyed, docile alien that she had known before, just... this asari with a predatory lilt before her that could turn rage on and off like a switch.
Going through the motions, Ashley mechanically began her meal, the well marbled steak tasting like nothing more then chalk as her mind raced. She'd have to wake Ramirez and pass on the standing orders, work details, and order of mobilization for the extraction, wake the rest of the men for a quick goodbye, and a quick thought to what it would take for her to get the quartermaster to release her men's beer ration for a proper 'fare-thee-well'.
You couldn't call the meal awkward, just a practiced diplomacy between two parties at an impasse. Amidst the thoughts of her exit strategy to take and a gnawing vision of what her Normandy reunion may turn out to be, a final line of thought gripped the marine as she bit into a buttered head of brocolli.
I just got owned by Liara fucking T'soni?
"Okay, you'll have to pre-heat the grill to 425 and set the shrimp bowls up the counter top. The cauliflower and greenbeans can just be boiled, but you'll have to grab some cheese past and then some thyme for the chicken breasts, and..." Cortana stopping as she sensed Chief's eyes roll. "You're pushing forty and you only know how to work a flash heater, Chief. So time to put on the apron and realize there's more to the culinary arts then rations and whatever can't crawl away fast enough."
"Your not helping."
"If there's anyone else in the Forward Unto Dawn that can cook, please raise your hand." Cortana channeling her voice to his exterior speakers. "Oh, look... it seems there's just you. I think your poor gut deserve something more then pre-packaged protein goo with a shelf life of three years. You'll thank me tomorrow when we start putting this tub back together. Honestly, when the last time you had a fulfilling meal and a good night's rest?"
The Spartan kept his hands moving as he processed her question. The clatter of food cans and air-sealed packaging on the mess counter were all that could be heard in the eatery as he prepared. It wasn't giving Cortana cold shoulder; even a mind as sharp as his couldn't remember a time of calm in the last several months.
"Yeah... I thought so." Cortana softening her voice. "You have to start taking better care of yourself."
"There was no time."
"There's time now, Chief. Once we get this done, we'll find you a place to get some rack, and everything will seem a little brighter tomorrow. Okay?" Cortana trying to feel out how to make a transition a little smoother for her soldier as he busied himself.
By his own time, he'd gone from saving all life in the galaxy to simply trying to feed himself in just hours; there was plenty for his mind to turn towards unless he had some thing new to focus on.
Pots were on, ventilation clicked on as the spiced chicken hit the grill, and Chief ignited the fuel cells for the garlic shrimp with a tip of his plasma sword; Cortana was quite certain that wasn't what the Arbiter had in mind when he have it to him.
The time leading up to now had been exceptionally smooth. True to her word, the sentinels had brought the Dawn planetside smoothly, barely feeling touchdown before the sentinels scattered back to whatever task that had been interrupted beforehand. He'd been quite impressed by the display, not just Cortana's skill alone in jockey the thousands of sentinels, he simply hadn't pictured them as heavy lifters after shattering as many in combat as he had.
In the black of night, several structures were vaguely seen on the landscape, the typical geo-metric shapes of every Forerunner site.
An opened maintenance hatch and two flights of stairs found them at the mess, strewn with everything from shed uniforms, personal baggage, and swapped-out body armour as the last of the volunteers found a place for battle preparation. Now, no more scurrying and clatter of gear, just the sizzle and pops of a soldier's supper in preparation.
Content his food was well on its way, a few rummaged patrol packs gave him exactly what he was looking for. 'Pvt Samowhy' had left a few possessions in her bag, a sidearm and field kit amongst them.
She was through-and-through a rookie, the smell of the spray paint and the clean edges of her name's stenciling; everything packed as-per the kit-list, minus the hand towel, but one of her t-shirts became one as he started a short clean-up.
"What's our time table for provisions and repair?" Chief releasing his helmet's pressure collar with a hiss. Placing it opposite the sink he was using, he began wetting his new rag under a faucet, running it over his face and head as he looked back.
She hated with every bit of her being being separated from him, not this soon after being re-united. But still bitter-sweet; for all the time she spent amongst him, making it safer for him, even making him stronger... but it was so rare to see his face outside the armor.
Everything to mark a face as handsome was there; powerful neck, strong jaw, and as always, those deep, brown eyes of his. A unique feature that affected him, and half the male Spartans that survived the augmentation, was that the hormonal inhibition of their thyroidal implant prevented them from growing any facial or body hair; she thought it was what made him look balanced no matter what he had just endured.
His hair was short as always, its light brown amplified by the pure white of his under-exposed skin. A life time of fighting beneath the protection of the Mjolnir had left his face and eyes without direct sunlight for most his life... and also without a wrinkle or a real reference to his age; many would guess the strain and malnourishment of a soldier's life would have aged him irrepairabley, but as any dermatologist would say about age-lines, "When's the last time you saw someone with a wrinkley butt?"
Lastly, but the most striking thing to Cortana's mind, were his scars. Just three marked his face; one running vertically from his left eye to his cheek, and on the right, the other two started at his ear and the rear of his jaw and bisected midway on his jaw line. Thin and slightly coloured, the fact they had both been Needler rounds that had lost their punch detonating on his shield had spared both his eyes.
But they looked, well... beautiful to her. They didn't diminish his handsomeness at all to her; she thought they were a perfect reflection of what he endured, something to reflect on the outside what we endured inside.
Still feeling the novelty of his unadorned face, she lit up the speakers. "Even with what I'm planning on feeding you, the stores ought to last you about eight years, and the reefers in the lower hold will double that. Repairs will be relying on available resources and how many sentinels I can siphon away without the mainframe noticing. Several of the sentinels in the mooring were 're-purposing - line series', so it's a small stretch to believe they can salvage and repair for us. Frankly, Forerunner salvage should be much better then anything this ship's already made of, and after seeing how the Covenant bastardized the tech they discovered I can't wait to do it some justice. I'm thinking a forward-thruster assembly, something that'll pull us instead of push us like our thrusters, and then... oh, Chief? A little help here?" Cortana cut short as her view was obscured by the grill's steam.
Lifting the helmet to eye level, Chief looked on a lone patch of clear visor. As the rest fogged, a clear section remained in the shape of a splash of liquid, several streams having dripped to the visor's bottom.
"What on Earth did that?" Cortana not recalling anything on the Mjolnir's specs about abherrent substances affecting it.
"Avery... when Guilty Spark hit him." His voice calm but distant.
"Wait, blood? Of all the things that thing withstands, and blood's what will..." Cortana halting mid-sentence. I swear if I don't get this tongue of mine under control, I'm just not going to open it!
"I'm sorry, Chief."
"You didn't do anything wrong." He spoke as he wiped the golden surface down with his rag.
"And neither did you!" Cortana's tone incredulous. "No, you are not! You are not taking responsibility for what happened to Johnson, Chief! I was there... you did everything you could've!"
"And none of it was enough." Finalty in his words. He returned to watching the grill insilence, Cortana picking up the reins on his train of thought.
Don't let her go... don't ever let her go.
Her mind wandered back to the sargeant-major, the embodiment of humanity's grit and irrespressible spirit in a cigar chewing, foul-mouthed grunt... and she'd never have him any other way. Even in his last moments, in a career spanning from the first contact with the Covenant on Harvest all the way to the Ark, his concern lay for others.
'Don't let her go', Avery? What did you see that I.. we didn't? Yeah, he was your brother-in-arms, but there was more to what you said then that? Same crazy quest to take care of me, too? Cortana realizing there was a lot more of her left behind then what the Gravemind had taken. She focused back on the Chief, still quietly attending to his meal.
She had lost Avery too, but could put the sargeant-major away for most of the time as she looked after the Chief. She'd spared little thought to how many he had lost, but something clicked as she looked into his eyes again.
Is that why your so focused? Because your... lonely? And just trying to do right by all of them?
There was still Fred, Kelly, and a few other Spartans from Reach that had survived. There'd always be a need for legends like him for the UNSC to deify... but that's not enough to fill a heart that's been worn away, and it never would be.
"Let's not argue, Chief. We have to be here for each other, and that's how it's going to stay for a long time." Cortana keeping her voice sweet and jestful. "So, how about tomorrow I'll teach you how to fry a roast with electrodes so it'll be just as tough and leathery as you prefer?"
What was meant to elicit a smile only turned the super-soldier's focus away from the stove top with a start, eyes darting darting back and forth from his helmet to the back wall. Still mute, he lifted himself up slowly from the counter, standing motionless as Cortana looked on.
"Chief, the last time you had an episode like this we ended up throwing high-explosives into a fusion reactor. What's going on?"
"When we get back," His eyes unmoving." we'll try snap-cloning you a body."
It was her turn for silence as his words sunk in. After the lifetime of contemplative effort that three seconds meant to an AI, she finally responded. "A... body? Chief, even I'm not seeing where that one came from or where it'd go. Come on, fill me in."
"Un-mature grey matter for room to grow into." Leaning his weight back into the counter.
"Uh... I'm still gonna need more then that."
"You interface with me, you can connect with a body." The Chief busying himself removing the pots and pans from the grill to the counter beside him.
"Oh... my..." Cortana's mind still tripping on his suggestion."Chief, I'm still not the one behind the wheel, here. And there's also the matter of the crystalline layering within your armor to facilitate me, and the uh... what about source material for DNA structuring? There's no host for a "me" existing anywhere, where would we start?"
"You couldn't map 20 000 genomes?"
"21 500. And all underlaying protein chains." Cortana starting to see some method to the madness. "Chief, it's so sweet that you're trying so hard for me, as always, but... this is one battle that's beyond both of us."
No chair here strong enough to hold his 450 kilos of Mjolnir, he contented himself with standing as he began eating in silence, rearranging his helmet so his face was just inside the optics' view. Not intentionally, Cortana knew, just something within him not wanting too much connection right now.
"Oh, Chief... please don't. You've gone so far for me already... further then anyone else ever could have." She knew too well. "Have you ever thought about what you've done for me? Not just saving me, but validating everything I was ever made for? I was born with the sum total of human understanding and I was able to disseminate and cataloque it in two hours; your delivering me to Halo gave me almost too much info to contain. I've been more then I ever could've been without you, Chief, can't you just..."
For once, even her words failed to sound. As empty as he could make his eyes, she had glimpsed it. Hurt.
Yeah, just you go ahead, woman. Tell him what he did will crush you years earlier then you were meant to. That's just what he needs. Cortana tryingt to bite her lip as the Spartan ate in silence. An entire minute had wore on before her curiousity challenged her shame.
"Chief, just for my understanding, how'd you think of a snap-clone as a solution?"
"Your 'electrode-cooked roast' comment." He answered nonchalantly as he chewed. "Frankenstein. Just hit me."
This time, it was 5 seconds for her to grip what she had just heard.
"Oka-ay. I can... you know... I can kind of see that... really..." The helmet's speakers exploded in a hyena's frenzy as her laughter bounced off the mess' walls. "Oh my god! The mute, pale skinned product of a scientist's imagination and I never made that connection?"
A roll of his eyes at it all only went towards winding her up further as she saw the welling of colour in his cheeks.
"Oh no! Oh no, your not... YOU ARE! YOUR BLUSHING? YOUR EMBARASSED? YOU ARE JUST TOO CUTE!"
