Chapter Two: The Mission

*Trey's POV*

I flopped down on the bed, releasing a tired sigh. ONI had sent us up to the Nassau station, where we were to await further instructions. There was absolutely nothing that a seventeen year old could do here, other than screw around with the porn-filled public terminal. And trust me, I don't do that kind of thing.

Jakob went over to the closet, and slid the door open. "I can understand that you're bored, Trey," he said, "but keep in mind that you're lucky that we're not in the slammer right now. ONI must really need someone to do whatever it is they wanted, or they wouldn't have come to us."

"I might be able to understand why they want you, but why the hell would they want me?" I asked, kicking off my shoes. With let another swift kick, I knocked them to the floor. "You're good with guns, I'm good with video games. So, unless its some high-tech virtual FPS, then I have no reason to be here."

"Oh come on," he insisted, looking down at his stained T-Shirt and frowning. He pulled a polo shirt from the closet, and a clean pair of pants, and headed toward the bathroom. "Where's your sense of adventure? Think about it. You get to tell all the girls that you were actually on a classified ONI job."

"Dude, the keyword was classified," I muttered, propping my feet up on the folded blankets at the edge of the bed. "They most likely wouldn't believe me if I simply said that I worked a short amount of time for ONI, and then things went back to normal."

"I'm sure that Lindsey would believe you, and she's the one you like right?" he asked from the bathroom. Honestly, I don't know why he was changing in the bathroom, I had seen him in the nude several times. For the record, not gay. Our freighter had a small row of cyro-tubes, which we used when in slipspace. They were several hundred years old, so if we actually had clothes on when we used them, they were frozen to our skin. That's not comfortable.

"Only a little bit," I replied, reaching over for the TV remote. It was among the few things that I could do, and I figured that there would be way too many UNSC and ONI propaganda commercials. After we won the war sometime last year, the UNSC was using that as a means to gain new recruits. ONI was planning some sort of secret project, like always. Rumors claimed that it might actually be a new Spartan project.

Jakob re-entered the room, with his new clothes on. For the first time in a long time, he actually seemed like he was dressed nice. "Get ready, we have to meet this official for the briefing, or whatever." He tossed his old clothes into a hamper, and snatched the remote from my hand. "Put some clean clothes on, Trey."

I sighed and stood up, only to have Jakob take my spot. "Yes, father," I replied, with the most sarcastic tone I had. One disadvantage to being a somewhat smaller than average seventeen-year-old on an ONI space station: the clothes I had felt like they were designed for Spartans. I took a simple gray polo shirt, and a pair of blue jeans.

Unlike Jakob, I simply removed my shirt where I stood, and pulled the gray polo over my head. The short sleeves reached down to my elbows, making me feel somewhat small. The blue jeans were worse. I couldn't keep them on without a belt, with the UNSC doesn't seem to provide. Muttering some curses to them, I began searching for anything that would hold my pants up.

Jakob found this highly amusing. He was laughing as I struggled to keep my jeans on, and fumbled around in them. Eventually, several minutes later, I found a small coil of rope in the closet. Don't ask me why there was rope on a space station, it was there, so I used it. Once the jeans were secure, I had to roll up the legs so I would be able to walk without tripping over myself every five seconds. The long polo covered went down roughly half of my thigh, so it covered up the sloppy belt.

"There, I'm ready," I said, slipping into my shoes.

"Well then, come on Huckleberry Finn," Jakob joked, as he got up from the bed. "We've got a job to do, and some money to possibly earn."

Once again with the whole money thing. "Is that all you think about? Money?"

"Not really, but it's pretty high up there."

I sighed, and headed for the door. Mashing down on the glowing green button, the door slid open. "Well then, let's go find this ONI dude, and find out what we need to do."

"His office is conveniently on the whole other side of the station," Jakob told me, as he slid his hand into his pocket for our room key card. When we were outside, he slid it through the machine, which locked the door. "Fortunately, the Nassau isn't as big as most of the other stations, so it shouldn't take us more than fifteen minutes to get there."

"And I assume that you know the office number? I don't want to be stuck wandering around for hours like last time."

He instantly frowned. "That was different. We were going to get some of our supplies that were shipped in from Mars, not being enlisted in an ONI assignment."

I folded my arms. "So? We were still hopelessly lost and caught by the ODST's after hours, and they thought we were breaking in. That was the first time we were arrested."

Jakob shrugged. "Maybe, but we got everything cleared up the next day didn't we?" He was leading, and decided to take a shortcut through the mess hall. We had eaten here less than an hour ago, and the girl that had caused the uproar was still there.

"So," I asked, somewhat casually and somewhat awkwardly, "what do you think the spooks want us for? Perhaps for some of their sick experiments? Maybe we'll walk outta here Spartans."

"Don't get your hopes up," Jakob said. "And besides, why do we even need Spartans anymore? The War is over, the Insurrection hasn't launched any major campaigns yet, and there's almost no problems between colonies anymore."

"If you think about it, we really ought to thank the Covenant," I commented. "They brought humanity together."

He scoffed. "The surviving 13% of it." I assumed that it was a rough estimate. He wouldn't know the exact percentage, since the UNSC was yet to release the statistics. It was unlikely they ever would. However, it had to be close. We had lost 23 billion humans over the past three decades.

"Anyway, we're probably just going to do something simple, like find some lost ONI tech," Jakob said, switching back over to our old topic of conversation. "We salvage wrecked ships, so it might actually make some sense."

"It's ONI," I reminded him. "They never make sense."

He sighed. "Are you always so critical about ONI?"

"Yes."

"Good. But don't let them know that."

I scoffed. "Fine."

Several minutes later, we stood outside of the office of the ONI agent. Personally, I wasn't looking forward to this. Jakob and I had been caught selling illegal Covenant weapons, and if ONI wanted criminals, then chances are that it wasn't going to be something that would be exciting.

Two Marines stood guard on either side of the door, MA5's in their hands. That's right, not some of the new models of assault rifles, but the good old-fashioned kind that held sixty rounds instead of thirty-two. Both Marines looked serious, as if they would put a clip into a dust bunny if it looked at them wrong.

Jakob reached for the button to open the door, but the Marine on the left lashed his hand out at lightning speed and caught it by the wrist. "Can I help you?" he asked, in a voice that reminded me of Stallone. Hey, I'm pretty keen on my old movie stars.

"Um..." Jakob said. "We have a...um...appointment with the ONI guy." Way to go dumbass. You don't even know his name. Now, things were awkward.

"I see." The Marine released his grip on Jakob, and nodded to the other Marine. "We'll see about that." The other Marine nodded back, and pressed a red button on the wall.

Nothing happened. I had no idea what he just did, and now I was starting to get slightly tense. Did he just call security on us? Jakob was losing it. He had some slight issues keeping his cool, and right now I swear that he was beginning to sweat. And it wasn't hot in the Nassau. See what I have to put up with? Not cool.

Several more tense seconds passed, and the door slid open. The Marine on the left gave a slight shrug of mild surprise, and nodded to the door. "Go on in, then."

Jakob and I shot each other a quick glance, and entered the room. There was a large table in the middle, with two chairs on one side, two chairs on the other, and two more one the side farthest from the door. The dark blue carpet gave a sense of royalty, and seemed out of place with the white steel walls.

In front of each chair was a computer, along with several folders and a pen on top of each folder. Four seats were occupied, forcing Jakob and I to take the two on the left.

"You're late," commented the man sitting at the head of the table, next to another man that looked to be all business. "Did you have any trouble finding your way here?"

"Um...just a little," Jakob replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a rather large station, and well...we took a wrong turn." I almost face-palmed. Great. Now he was lying to ONI. In truth, we stopped by the cafeteria again for some of the pizza.

The man adjusted his glasses. "I see." His tone of voice pretty much confirmed that he knew about that lunch stop. He looked over at the other two people, which I recognized one. It was the same girl from the cafeteria the first time Jakob and I had been there. I gave a small wave, but she didn't notice.

"Now that we're all here, I suppose that we should get started." The first man and the younger man stood up simultaneously. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Shaun Alexander." He gestured to the other man. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Brian Mowry. The two of us work for the Office of Naval Intelligence."

"Yeah, I know," said the woman next to the girl. "Brian, I assume these two are the partners you were talking about." From the slightly irate tone in her voice, I figured that she might not like us or the idea of partners.

Brian nodded, shuffling some papers on the table around in search of one that seemed to elude him. "Yes, Sarah, those are you and Kiera's new partners. Would you like some time to get acquainted now, or would you rather wait until you're on the mission?"

Sarah shrugged. "I'd rather wait. I've been curious as to the details concerning the mission."

"In that case," Alexander interjected, before anyone else could get a word in, "We shall begin the debriefing. But, first, is there anyone who would like to back out right now. It will be without question, and will not affect you in any way."

"Personally, I'd like to know what it is before I decide," Jakob said. "I don't want to get into anything too complicated."

"Being a criminal under my custody, you really have no other choice than to go, Mr. Barnes," Alexander snarled, seeming to find some happiness in the superiority. "You can either embark on the mission, or spend the next three decades in a maximum security prison. Your choice."

Jakob mumbled some rather vulgar curses, which I would've heard if I hadn't found amusement watching the faces of our new partners. At first, it had been shock, and then some concern. The two began to whisper amongst themselves, talking something over.

Sarah stood up. "If he's a criminal, then I don't want him anywhere near me or my daughter. He could be a bad influence, try to rob us blind and kill us in our sleep...or worse." She stared at Jakob with a hint of disgust. I couldn't make out what the daughter's face was...it appeared to be a cross of confusion and...I couldn't tell.

"Hey, all I did was sell a few illegal weapons," Jakob said in his defense. "I'm not some serial killer rapist or something like that."

I sighed when I saw the smirk form on Alexander's face. "A few? Mr. Barnes, we recovered over fifteen-hundred illegal Covenant weapons from you store, and we still haven't searched all of the walls yet."

I leaned over to Jakob. "You sorta walked into that one."

"Shut up."

"Okay," Brian said, a little louder than normal to get everyone's attention. "There is a reward if the mission is completed. A fraction of it will be given for simply going, since the mission is dangerous."

That had Jakob's attention. I even saw a hint of interest in Sarah's eyes. "How much?" they both asked simultaneously, and then looked over at each other, then back to the ONI men.

"For simply going, twenty-thousand credits."

Jakob let out a low whistle. "With that kind of money, we could get a new ship, new supplies, a new store, and get back into business," he whispered to me.

"Why? We got caught this time, I'm sure they'll be monitoring us for years now."

"Good point."

"What's the full thing?" Sarah asked, tilting her head to the side. Kiera remained silent at her side.

"Five-hundred million credits. Each."

"Now I'm glad I have no choice," Jakob commented, eyes lighting up. I'm sure he might be a decedent of Scooge. "With that much money, we could pool it together for one billion, and actually go legit. We won't have to work another day of our lives." He leaned back in his chair, and smiled as he imagined all that we could do with that much money.

Sarah and Kiera on the other hand, seemed a little hesitant. "We'll need to talk this over in private." They walked to the corner and once again whispered with each other.

"I'll let you know that I'm a professional lip reader," said Jakob, leaning forward in his seat so he could see better. "She's saying; Never retune a wet...piano? Why is she saying that?"

I face-palmed, and looked at the computer screen. On it, there was an audio file loaded up and ready to play. Apparently, Alexander saw my look. "Don't touch that yet. That's only for when the mission is accepted."

Well, I had no choice. Why was he so crabby about it?

Sarah and Kiera came back over. "We'll do it," Sarah said. Kiera gave a hesitant nod. They sat down. "Now, what are we doing?"

"Do you remember what happened last week? What scam became the most popular topic on television, only for the UNSC to confirm it to be false?" asked Brian, looked over some papers.

"The Master Chief scandal?" I asked. According to the news, some transport ship carrying people to old colonies to see what could be salvaged picked up a radio signal, but had no clue where it came from. The UNSC had come out to say that it was false and only a prank.

"Exactly," Brain continued. "If you press the play button on the computer screens..."

I reached out, and pressed the triangle button on the touchscreen, and the audio played.

"...NSC FFG 201 Forward Unto Dawn. Survivors aboa..."

"That's the recording. It's not complete, but that's what the crew found," Alexander said. "Now, if you listen closely, you might notice something. Play it again, if you need to."

I played it again, and then again, and so did the others. I didn't see anything strange.

"The ship's serial number," Kiera suddenly said. "FFG 201. A normal civilian prankster wouldn't normally know that, right?"

Brian sapped his finger. "Right. So that would mean that if it were a prank, then the prankster would most likely have to be associated with the UNSC, perhaps a Marine or ODST. But listen to it again..."

With a roll of my eyes, we all listened to it again. This was not helping. He should simply tell us what we're going to be doing instead of all of this.

"The voice is female," I said, trying to add anything to what we had. "That would rule out all the males, right?"

Alexander chuckled, but Brian shook his head. "Not exactly, but that is pretty close. Using voice recognition, we were able to match up the voice of the audio, supposedly Chief's AI Cortana, with that of Dr. Catherine Halsey, the creator of Cortana, and it was far too much of a match to be a coincidence."

"Then," Alexander interrupted, taking over, "You'll notice that the voice heard on the distress beacon sounds more computerized than that of normal AI speech. That means that it's AI coding speech, which is the computer commands that AI's think. If it requires a voice playback, then the AI thinks the speech, and it comes out more computerized. Only the original AI can do this."

"So," Brian took over, "with this simple analysis, we believe that it's not actually a hoax, but the actual beacon. Even though the circumstances can be false, it would take the prankster too much work. He would have to acquire a Cortana model AI, which there are only two in existence, one being Cortana. That alone is impossible."

"So, why did the UNSC call it a prank then?" Sarah asked. "If this is real, then this is the discovery of a century. It'll mean that the Master Chief cheated death again."

Alexander removed his glasses and pulled a small gray cloth out, and began to wipe the lenses. "First off, the UNSC has no idea where the beacon was picked up. The ship was crossing thousands of miles of open space. Second, if they did announce that it was legitimate, then the public would be wanting them to do a search for Chief, and we need our ships here while we rebuild. Third, even if they did go out and found him, then there's a good chance that the ship would be in Elite or Brute territory, which will look bad at all of those peace talks we're holding with them."

"Couldn't they get than good Elite guy to let them in?" asked Jakob. "He fought alongside the Chief, so he'd probably understand."

"If the Arbiter were to let humans into their territory, then it wouldn't be hard for the word to get out through the Elites that their leader let humans in, and that would only worsen the rebellions occurring on their planet," explained Brian. "We already asked him if it would be possible for him to send some Elite scouts out to see if they can find it, but they're too busy fighting the rebellions."

"So," Jakob said, running his hands through his thick black hair, "I guess this is where we come in. You want us to find the Master Chief, don't you?"

"Yes." Brian stared at each one of us individually. "The mission is to find and recover Spartan John-117. ONI will be providing you with a ship, weapons, ammo, and whatever you need. You are to leave whenever you're ready, in Docking Bay 94."

"Wait wait wait," I interrupted, throwing my hands up. "We need weapons for what? Last time I checked, the Master Chief was on our side."

Alexander and Brian shot each other a look. "Well...there are reports of a new splinter Covenant faction emerging. They're the last remnant of the old Covenant, still focused on the old ideals of human extinction. They've been seen in open space territory, and once attacked a human ship, leaving no survivors."

"Okay, that's great," Jakob spat, knocking his chair over as he stood up. "You said it would be dangerous, but you never said Covenant dangerous. I don't want to put Trey through something like that. It's not right to force a teenager to fight aliens."

"But, his expertise in salvaging shipwrecks could be valuable in the situation," Alexander argued, putting his glasses back on. "And it's not like either of you have a choice. It's either this, or thirty years in prison. Your choice, as I said."

Jakob scowled, and I actually thought that he might choose prison for a second just to protect me, but of course the idea of all that money came back to his thoughts. "Alright, fine. But if he gets hurt it's on your head, and you'll pull him out the first chance we get."

"Agreed."

Looking around, I saw that Sarah and Kiera had left in the middle of the argument to get first dibs on the ship. I knew a little bit out things like this from evacuations off of Reach, and if you didn't get on the ship or whatever fast, all the good spots were taken.

So, I was going to get shot at by genocidal aliens, but I was looking for a Spartan. Scratch that, I was looking for the Spartan. Lucky me.