A/N: Yeah okay I lied, this is another set-up/filler chapter. But hey, you can't have a plot without the set-up! So enjoy Palmer having issues about the Spartan-IVs, and the Master Chief Having An Emotions. And see if you can't guess just who Spartan Harkness might be - I'm not giving hints unless you show you're on the right track!

(chapter title taken from Be Right There by Diplo & Sleepy Tom)


Aboard UNSC Infinity, in orbit above Earth, Sol System, May 12th, 2558

"I don't like it." Spartan Commander Palmer stared at her datapad, a scowl on her pretty features. Whatever that Chief of Staff of Spartan Operations had been up to the last time he was aboard the Infinity, wasn't good. Why had the man been accessing – or trying to access – records of Blue Team? For starters, Blue Team were Spartan-IIs, and the Chief of Staff was a Spartan-III. And for seconds, as far as she was aware, they'd never even worked together. What was going on?

Approaching footsteps startled the S-IV out of her thoughts, and she glanced up to see Captain Lasky striding towards her. She tucked the datapad into a pocket of her cargoes, and folded her arms over her chest, cocking her head to one side.

"Don't like what?" the man queried, coming to stop beside her.

Palmer shook her head, and worked on tying her auburn hair into a bun to hide the faint trembling in her fingers. "The idea that there could be a spy within the UNSC. It still doesn't sit right with me, Tom. And the fact that the lead you had vanished into thin air doesn't help either."

"I don't like it either. But there's not much we can do, and there's more important things we need to focus on right now anyway." the Captain nodded to the two Fireteams of Spartan-IVs in the Wargames Arena below them. "What do you think of the latest batch?"

Palmer was glad of the shift in topic. She finished tying her hair and folded her arms across her chest, following one S-IV clad in WARMASTER armour with a sniper rifle slung across his back. She watched as the Spartan clambered up a pile of rocks, only to get shot in the head from the opposing team's sniper, who was wearing the WARRIOR variant of GEN2. "Some of them are shaping up to be better and will join the ranks of these guys here," for the Spartans in the Arena were some of the previous class of S-IVs, rather than the fresh-out-of-training class that was being discussed, "The rest of them will be shipped off elsewhere." Only the best of the best of the Spartan-IVs remained aboard the Infinity. The UNSC's flagship needed the best soldiers to be sent into battle. And damn if Spartan Commander Palmer was going to make sure the Infinity got those soldiers.

"You've got a good eye for picking standout Spartans," Lasky commented, and Palmer glanced at him sideways, snorting out her amusement – although it sounded more like distaste than humour.

"You say that, and yet I count three Spartans who have turned on us. Michael Crespo, Rudolf Schein, and Vladimir Scruggs. All of them defected to the enemy and cost us good soldiers. And that was on me." Palmer forced herself to relax, keeping her arms folded across her chest rather than clenching her fists like she wanted to. "I chose them as outstanding Spartans, and yet they rebelled."

The Captain frowned out of concern, before his countenance shifted to a gentle one, and he reached up to awkwardly pat the Spartan Commander on the shoulder. "That wasn't your fault, Sarah. How could you foresee Spartans turning against us? That would require precognition, and everyone knows that it doesn't exist. You did the best you could. The UNSC's been pretty pleased with your choices so far, and the Infinity has the best contingent of Spartans, all hand-picked by you. Yes, it was awful that those three deserted. But don't you think you'd be just as likely to blame Spartan Jun, or Rear Admiral Musa, since they were the ones who vetted those guys for the SPARTAN-IV program in the first place? It wasn't your fault."

Well, since he put it that way...

Palmer opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted from her thoughts for the second time that day by another set of footsteps. This time, the person sounded like they were wearing armour; she turned to see a NOBLE-clad IV approaching her, helmet tucked under his arm. He was also part of the last class of IVs... Spartan Harkness if she recalled correctly. A good leader and sharpshooter. Bit of a brainy guy.

"Yes, Spartan?" Palmer queried.

"Excuse me if I sound a bit upfront, ma'am, but I didn't like Whiteman and Pereo's performances in our last five Wargames sessions. And they're not interacting well with Spartan Perez and myself. I'd like to request to have them pulled, and placed on another team, and to have two Spartans replacing them." Harkness stated calmly, though Sarah noted the hint of apprehension in his electric blue eyes.

The Spartan Commander placed her hands on her hips, pursing her lips in thought as she mulled over Whiteman and Pereo's records in her mind. Indeed, she recounted that they were always bickering with the other half of that team, weren't listening to orders, were reckless against the other Spartans in Wargames sessions... They needed to be split up and assigned to different Fireteams. She trusted Harkness' judgement; he was a very strong tactical thinker, and if he'd realized that his team were not performing as they should be, he meant it. She gave a nod, letting her arms drop to her sides. "Alright. And since you came and told me face-to-face right away rather than waiting to tell me in a briefing, or telling me via a report, I'll let you have pick of the latest wave of Spartans to add to your Fireteam."

"Thankyou ma'am." Harkness was evidently relieved. He gave Palmer a curt salute, and turned smartly on his heel and trotted off when she dismissed him with a nod.

"There's Exhibit A on you making good choices on Spartans, Sarah." Lasky nodded at the retreating figure of Spartan Harkness. "He's a good man, and so is his teammate Spartan Perez. Can't say much for Spartans Pereo and Whiteman since Harkness just stated they've been acting up, but still. Acting up is better than defecting."

"I guess you're right." Palmer grudgingly admitted, her gaze shifting to watch the remnants of the two Fireteams continue to duke it out in the Wargames Arena. "I just hope that I can continue to pick more outstanding Spartans in the future... ones that aren't likely to defect..."


"I haven't seen Chief press himself like this since we were in boot camp," Fred muttered quietly, pulling himself up again using the chin-up bar, before dropping down. "It's not right. I don't like it."

"He's fine, Fred." Kelly cut in curtly, lifting some heavy weights high above her head. Linda sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, spotting her. "This is just how he copes. You know this; we all do. We should be focusing on the upcoming mission."

Blue Team were currently in one of the Infinity's many Spartan-durable gyms, working out before they had to gear up for a mission. They were discussing the mental state of their leader, who had been pressing himself – and all of them as a result – harder than he ever had. It had been fight after fight after fight against the Storm Covenant, against Insurrectionists, against the Prometheans. And there had been little breaks in between. Something was eating at John, that much was obvious. But he evidently wasn't going to open up about it, and the team were growing concerned.

Said team leader was currently pushing himself on the treadmill, pushing himself too much. This was supposed to be an easy workout session; a mere warmup before they entered combat in just under two hours. And yet John was not taking it easy. He hadn't been since he had reunited with the rest of Blue Team. Hell, he hadn't been taking it easy since he had returned to the UNSC's fold last year after what had gone down on Requiem. Fleet Admiral Hood had requested the Spartan take a break; either John had forgotten, or had turned a deaf ear, because he was doing anything but.

Fred had seen enough. He dropped from the bar and marched over to the treadmills, yanking his teammate off and powering the treadmill down at the same time. He huffed out a sigh and rather unceremoniously let go of his hold on John, the other Spartan dropping to a heap in the ground; the Lieutenant dropped beside his friend, lifted him, and pulled him into a roughshod hug. Apparently it surprised the Master Chief, because he recoiled in surprise before bursting into tears.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be a long day.