Foreword
A reminder for you all to read Finish the Fight (previous chapter) if you haven't already. Apparently the update didn't go out after I pulled the previous chapter.
…
End of an Era
…
"I don't think anyone really understood what the Harvest Campaign meant at the time. At the time, it was about pride and symbolism. That was as a species could fight the Covenant. We were wrong. So horrifyingly wrong. Harvest marked the beginning of a very possible end for us."
-VADM David Gordon
…
1322 hours, December 15th, 2552
UNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
Sydney, Australia
The meeting was coming up to the two hour mark as Charles discussed the finer details of what had happened on the Ark.
"Commander Keyes and Commander Shepard have left an AI fragment behind on the Ark in the hopes that a way could be found to reactivate the portal and allow us to return," he said.
Keyes quickly took over the projector, uploading information from his tablet onto the display. An image of the Ark appeared, plus the rough annotations he had made on the structure.
"The first Halo was destroyed back in September," Keyes said. "If we look at the Ark, it has managed to build an actionable replacement Ring in less than three months. Just imagine what we could accomplish with that kind of production infrastructure."
"But how do we get there?" Admiral David Gordon, the Head of Section I, asked. "You said it yourself, the Ark is too far, and we're waiting on the Carlton Fragment to reactivate the Portal."
Keyes leaned forward onto the table, and cleared his throat. He looked up at Parangosky, who shook her head lightly.
"They should know," he said aloud. "We're almost finished."
"Fine, tell them," the Admiral gestured.
Entering commands into his tablet, Charles brought up a ship schematic. A few eyebrows quirked as they saw the dimensions of the ship, it was too big to be effective. With known UNSC tech, the ship would be nothing more than a meat shield.
"This is Project Infinity," Keyes explained. "It is built using every single scrap of Forerunner and Covenant technology we could find."
The display focused on a read out of the armaments.
"Primarily, we designed this ship to be a multirole carrier, but the Infinity is more than capable of singlehandedly overpowering a Covenant battlegroup in seconds."
Keyes could practically here the Brass guffaw at that claim, usually it would take three battlegroups to stamp out one Covenant battlegroup, and that fight could last for hours.
"These MAC guns and plasma turrets are the backbone of this ship's firepower. She is fast and agile enough to engage in large scale hit and run tactics. The Macedon Drive we have installed was acquired from a Forerunner vessel discovered on Trevelyan, would take the Infinity roughly three months to reach the Ark."
"If that ship is as powerful as you say it is," Hood interrupted. "Having it leave to establish a base on the Ark and return is a very long time. This war is not over, not yet."
"I understand, Admiral," Keyes said graciously.
"Why does the Infinity carry a compliment of ten frigates?" Gordon asked.
Charles shifted uncomfortably as a series of hot pinpricks ran down his back.
"That was an ad hoc decision by one of the engineers," Charles explained. "Originally that space was meant for cryogenically preserved embryos and resources for colonisation."
They all knew what that meant. Despite the power of Infinity, it was still just one ship. It could not turn the tide of war against the Covenant, not by itself. This ship was meant to run when all hope of any kind of victory was lost.
"If we can repurpose the facilities on the Ark, we can begin mass production of the Infinity-class."
That all perked their attention, if they could integrate the Infinity-class into standard naval combat doctrine, then UNSC force projection would be more than enough to hold ground.
"Send the Macedon schematics over to logistics," Hood said to Keyes. "I'll charter a battlegroup to leave as soon as it's ready. A ship like Infinity should not leave our territories undefended."
"Yes, sir."
Turning the pages on his report, Hood cleared his throat.
"Where are we on Truth?" he asked.
Everyone turned their attention to Admiral David Gordon.
"Truth was quick to divulge information," Gordon said. "Almost as if he had no belief in the divine."
Charles frowned. The Prophet had seemed fanatic, overzealous when they were dragging him off for interrogation. Keyes remembered the recordings of the Covenant message that declared humanity as an affront. If Truth was so willing to give up information, it meant that the Prophet knew the Covenant was shattered, and his faith irrelevant.
"The Covenant declared war on us because we were an affront to their gods," David explained. "Well, that's a half truth. One of their scanners marked us as Forerunner technology. Then on High Charity, the Prophets questioned a Forerunner AI which seemed to continue the idea."
"Hold on," Hood interrupted, raising his hand. "You're saying this war was caused by some misunderstanding?"
Gordon quirked an eyebrow and nodded incredulously.
"Afraid so," he answered.
"Does this mean humans are Forerunners?" Parangosky asked.
"Oh my god," Keyes muttered.
Activating his tablet once more, he entered in commands to open the Chief's video log from when he was on the first Halo. There was a minor delay as the server combed through the databanks until eventually streaming the information into the room.
"Why would you hesitate to do what you have already done?" Spark asked the Spartan.
"Our analysts thought that the AI was already rampant," Keyes said.
"As did ours," Gordon added.
Opening another file, the Chief's conversation with the Prophet of Mercy was played. He winced internally as he saw the Infection Flood Form worm its way through the Hierarch's flesh.
"Your pal, where's he going?" the Spartan asked in that deep baritone voice of his.
"Earth… to finish what we've started," the Prophet answered weakly. "And this time none of you shall be left behind."
Keyes brought up another video log, this time; it was from the Master Chief's engagement with the AI.
"You are the child of my makers. Inheritor of all they left behind. You are Forerunner! But this ring… is mine!
Charles replayed that last segment again.
"You are Forerunner."
The silence in the room was palpable as the Senior Command replayed the line over and over again in their mind.
"The Covenant waged war on us because their leaders wanted to erase the truth," Gordon concluded. "The Prophet confirms this."
"It explains why they used humans to fire the Array," Hood added. "I thought it was just symbolic."
"So what does this mean about the Chief then?" Gordon interjected, concerned.
"Either we're all Forerunner, or he is," Charles answered.
"Thank you, General," Hood said.
The meeting came to an uneasy end as the Committee filed out slowly. A few of the senior members were discussing dinner plans for the night, but most of them sounded slightly hollow, more for the sake of trying to ignore what had occurred in the meeting and trying to get as much family time as possible.
"Want to join us, Keyes?" Hood asked.
"No thank you, sir," Charles answered, shaking his head. "I need to go meet Lambert. Tell him about this personally."
"Of course, send him my regards," Hood said.
Keyes didn't miss the slight look of annoyance that Parangosky sent him when he mentioned Lambert.
"I will sir. I'll see you next time."
…
1700 hours, December 17th, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)
Manhattan Financial District, New York
North America
Drying off his hair with a towel, Keyes then placed a small amount of gel onto his comb before running it through his hair for a neat comb over. He had about an hour before he had to be outside the UEG Capitol Building, which considering the traffic at this hour, and the fact that he hadn't had anything to eat meant that Charles had little time to spare.
Rushing out into the main area of his hotel suite, he quickly pulled on his Service Dress Uniform before barrelling out into the hallway. He power walked quickly towards the elevator as he was tying up his tie into the usual Windsor knot.
"Sir! Your tie clip," his aide called.
He turned around, and gave a tired smile to Second Lieutenant Eliza Martinez.
"Thank you," he said.
Taking the metal clip, he fastened his tie to his shirt, and buttoned up his jacket.
"Where'd you get it?"
"The tailor shop from across the street. It has a slight grill on it, but I don't think anyone would notice the difference."
Charles looked down at the clip.
"Should be fine," he agreed.
"And here's your lamb and pork gyro, with garlic mayonnaise."
Keyes gave an exhale of relief.
"You are a godsend."
"Figured you'd starve if we waited until the Presidential Dinner, sir."
Stepping into the elevator, Keyes stood to the left behind the panel as one of his security detail pressed the key for the subterranean parking floor.
"Get any sleep on the flight?" he asked.
"Yes sir," Martinez nodded.
The platform came to a halt at the garage. His guards were the first to step out; all pressed in their service dress uniform. They fanned out into the foyer in a defensive formation and kept in step with Charles as he walked towards his armoured limousine.
Even as the Acting Head of Section III, Keyes hadn't yet gotten used to the increased security detail with him at every hour. In fact, he hadn't driven his own car since the promotion. It was probably collecting dust, or in his case, being blasted by sand and sea salt air since ONI billeted him in a penthouse by the beach. And technically, it wasn't his car; his car was probably destroyed on Reach.
Sitting down on the leather seat, he felt the servos kick in again as they adjusted to his body's contours. With everyone settled in, the small five vehicle motorcade left the hotel and linked up with a small detail of NYPD patrol cars and bikes.
"How are we doing for time?" Keyes asked.
"In this traffic sir, we should get there in forty-five minutes," Martinez answered.
"Terrific," he said quietly. "So, you grew up here."
"Yes sir," the Lieutenant answered.
"So how did you end up in Australia?"
"Family moved there when I was seventeen."
The motorcade pulled through a crowd of photographers and onlookers, ready to see this monumental day. Gigantic screens had been erected all around the city and the world, for the live broadcast. Despite the severe damages inflicted by the Covenant, most of it had been centred on Africa, and the tropics. Settlements locked in by land or closer to the poles were left practically untouched. Looking out at the throngs of people, Charles could almost believe that the war never reached Earth.
The guards at the front gates were UEG Marshals, who waved the convoy through the security checkpoint and into the basement parking below the Capitol building. Safely out of open view, Keyes's personal guards opened the door and allowed him to step out into a surprisingly beautiful subterranean entrance.
His security detail stopped outside the checkpoint, standing in wait around the vehicles while Keyes proceeded through the security checkpoint.
"ID please, General," a Marshall said.
Charles presented his security tag as well as placing his hand on a plinth for biometrics. Martinez was next as she was his personal aide.
"Thank you, sir," the Agent said, and gestured for him to move through.
Following the signs, Charles eventually reached the main hall where the entire conference was to be held. Select camera crews were already inside, ready to broadcast. Martinez broke off and headed into a waiting room with other military aides as Keyes entered the cavernous hall.
He took his seat in the UNSC VIP section, where Admiral Parangosky and Rear Admiral Osman were already seated.
"Admirals," he greeted quietly as he took his seat next to Rear Admiral Anna Greenfield, the Acting Deputy Head of Section III.
"Keyes," they all returned.
Sitting down next to Greenfield, Charles adjusted his jacket and interlaced his fingers together. Looking out into the crowd, he could see plenty of Senators all talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. Then he looked closer to the front of the seating area, where the sworn government officers were seated.
There were Jackson and Lambert from ODIN, Harper and Persephone Landy from FIA, and directorates from other Federal and Independent Branches.
On the stage, Keyes could see the newly sworn in President, Doctor Ruth Charet, and other high level government officials. They had requested an immediate briefing about the war, which would make sense on why nearly everyone with pull in the UNSC was in this building. It was also a very tantalising target for a terrorist attack, but New York was on a partial lockdown with all law enforcement out in force.
The lights in the audience began to dim, quietening the Senators. Admiral Hood stood up from his seat and made his way to the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Recently, UNSC Forces in cooperation with our Sangheili allies, conducted multiple operations which led to the assassinations of two Covenant Prophets, and the capture of a third. We believe that this war is coming to an end. As the Chief of Naval Operations of the UNSC, I, Lord Admiral Terrence Hood, am officially relinquishing emergency powers back to the United Earth Government."
Applause roared across the hall, Senators stood up from their seats and clapped, relief clearly written all over their faces. Hood had brushed the details a bit, but no one was going to care, they didn't need to know the reality of how precarious everything was.
"Martial Law will be lifted, and the Cole Protocol relaxed," he continued. "I now hope, that we as a people can begin to heal and rebuild. I would like to hand the stage over to Madame President, Doctor Ruth Charet."
Hood stepped back from the podium and retook his seat as President Charet took the stage. She wasn't like the archetypal politicians or presidents that came before her. Instead of trying to make herself look younger, she seems to wear her age like a badge. Her grey hair was given a pageboy style cut, and she wore a dark greyish brown suit, coupled with glasses which gave her an aura of wisdom that came with old age.
Apparently she won the previous election in a landslide vote, something Charles should've known ahead of time – not that it mattered since UNSC Emergency Powers exempted all serving personnel from voting.
"Thank you, Admiral," Charet said graciously. "Though the war is not yet over, I think it's safe to say we no longer need to hold our breath. We can now begin the long and arduous task of restoring ourselves back to our former glory, and I promise you a new era of peace and stability. The coming years will be difficult, and I know that the restorations will take far longer than my time in office will ever be, but I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to get us there faster."
The Senators clapped even louder this time, Charles could practically feel them salivating at the opportunity to finally satisfy the demands of their constituents once more.
When Charet had stepped down from the podium that was when everyone else began to file out of the hall. But the Presidential Cabinet, the UNSC High Command, and high ranking officials in the Intelligence Community were led out different passages.
Ushered by the UEG Marshals, Keyes eventually found himself in the subterranean parking, but at a deeper level. He had heard about this access tunnel, it led directly to the Presidential Estate, which was built on the artificial and very originally named, Presidential Island.
"Sir! Over here!" Martinez called.
Charles turned to his right, and found his personal company limousine, and security detail waiting for him. Walking briskly over to the relatively unassuming luxury saloon Audi, he eased himself into the rich leather seats, and powered up his tablet pc.
Most of the older news outlets were shoving articles about the UNSC relinquishing Emergency Powers, and everything about the UNSC, onto their main page. But as Charles moved towards the younger outlets, Hood's declaration barely even made it onto the suggestion bar, which was quite tragic. But then again, Section II had done a really good job in convincing everyone that the UNSC had been holding its own against the Covenant. Either that, or people just didn't care about politics as much as they cared about celebrity gossip.
Powering down his tablet, he shoved it into the seat pocket as his car hummed through the tunnel. Feeling the limo slowing down, Keyes looked out the window to see that they had arrived at the carpool. More UEG Marshals came out to greet him as they opened his door and led him to the elevators. His detail had to remain behind, but his aide was allowed to accompany him.
As expected, the Estate exuded wealth without being ostentatious, classy without the stiff upper lip, and traditional without being overbearing. It had a homely touch, yet at the same time, it had the vibe of government bureaucracy and power.
The House itself was perched on a hillside, with the front facing towards New York City. The perimeter of the Island was lined with towering evergreens and shrubbery which hid thick armoured concrete walls.
Following the Marshalls, Keyes was led into a conference room which kept in line with décor of the entire estate. The long African timber table ran the entire length of the room, with high end chairs tucked under. In front of every seat was a large screen monitor, and the wall opposite the head seat, was a large wall mounted display. Running along the roof was a series of holographic projectors.
Martinez was led into an adjacent room, while Keyes walked towards a seat with his name neatly displayed on the polished table. Taking in a deep breath, he sat down and waited.
…
Doctor Ruth Charet could feel the eyes focus on her as she looked out at the sea of the most powerful people in human history to date. One person that caught her attention was the Acting Head of Section III, Brigadier General Charleston Keyes. Relative to most in the room, the Doctor was quite young, though he wasn't the youngest. That title went to the Presidential Estate's Chief of Staff.
Regardless of Keyes's relative youth, he held himself in a way that she found somewhat arrogant, or maybe frustrated. His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. If the rumours were to be believed, he was butting heads with ONI's Director, Admiral Parangosky.
"Thank you all for being here," Charet began cordially. "What's our condition? I'd like your full no BS assessment."
She noticed a subtle change in body language from most in the room. They hadn't expected her to say that. That threw them off, which was good.
"Bad," Hood answered bluntly. "The Covenant are in a state of civil war, on one side is the Elites, and the other are the Brutes. So far, both are locked in a stalemate."
"Are they still a threat to us?" Cameron Davis, the Vice President asked.
Everyone knew the Covenant was no longer a direct threat, but they needed to be sure.
"No," Admiral Steven Hackett, the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations answered. "We have channels with the Elites, but so far they don't need our help. This one is personal with the Brutes."
"If the Elites were to lose, what do we have in terms of assets?"
Charet leaned on the table and interlaced her fingers together, panning her eyes back and forth. She noticed Keyes move out of the corner of her sights, and turned to face.
"Project Infinity," he answered. "Originally designed as last resort if Earth was lost."
"One ship cannot beat back the Covenant," Paul Murphy Russel, the Secretary of Defence, said disbelievingly.
"She wasn't supposed to," Keyes deadpanned. "It was supposed to run."
Charet winced, and she wasn't the only one in the room too. It was like a slap to the face from an armoured hand. Ruth knew that the UNSC was losing the war, the figures never lied. Section II could sell many things, but numbers always revealed the truth. Over three quarters of tax revenue was lost in the course of nearly thirty years, and it took an army of trade AIs and economic savants from keeping the entire economy from falling apart. But that was all it had been, numbers. The gravity of it all never really set in, the truth was too numbing.
"Carry enough supplies and genetic information, to allow humanity to find another place to restart and rebuild," he continued. "A Noah's Ark if you will. But she is more than capable of handling herself against the Covenant, though right now, we only have one ship."
"So time is not on our side then," Charet stated as a matter of fact. "We need to overhaul our military. Get R'n'D to dig up whatever they can and check our contracts."
There was a semblance of agreement as Ruth looked around the table.
"We need a better infrastructure," Hood said. "The UNSC adopted cheap, tried and tested technologies that are extremely reliable. But in terms of performance, we are outclassed. If we want to be able to compete with the Covenant, we need to focus on the Force Multiplier Doctrine."
"That Doctrine is too expensive," General Richard Crawford, Chief of Ground Operations, said.
"We need to start somewhere," Hood countered.
"I'll have my people draw up an economic plan," the Secretary of the Treasury, Jacob Miles offered. "We'll see what we can do."
Charet shuffled the papers in front of her, and then looked back up.
"Tell me about the Ark."
"Forerunner Installation outside of Milky Way, designed to build and control all the Halo Rings," Keyes answered.
Ruth noticed the slight eye contact Charles made with Hood, to which the older man gave a slight shake.
"Anything you want to tell me?" she asked the Admiral directly.
Hood paused for a moment, and then looked at her before panning his gaze across the table.
"Our officers have left an AI fragment there in the hopes that it will be able to reopen the Portal to the Ark," he explained. "It was an impromptu decision. I have my doubts it will pay off."
"But if it does?"
"We'll have access to the greatest production infrastructure in our history," Keyes answered.
Charet nodded lightly, knowing what that would mean. But it would be a fool's gambit to bank everything on that alone. Flipping the page, the President moved onto the next issue.
"Batarians, give me a full rundown. From the start."
Deputy Director Persephone Landy shifted her seat to face Ruth. She was a woman who had the complexion of the everyday mother, an average Jane in a way. Her shoulder length blonde hair and the light wrinkles around her eyes, coupled with her fair complexion made her look like a corporate woman with a family back at home. She was totally unassuming.
"We first encountered the batarians approximately eighteen months ago," Landy explained, not for the President's benefit but for the uninformed Cabinet.
Ruth did not miss the Deputy Director's choice of time scale. It made it seem like this problem was only discovered recently, instead of a year and a half.
Landy inserted her thumb drive into the datapad in front of her, and uploaded its contents for everyone to see. An image of a humanoid with a brown hue skin appeared. It had four eyes, and what appeared to be four large nasal passages upon its forehead, running along the Sagittarian crest. But central to the battarian's ridge like face were eight nasal passages.
"First contact was in the Skyllian Verge. Assets in the Mozdok System reported that Insurrectionists and the Savos population fled to the Vladivostok System – a three month jump – where they encountered batarians. Details are sketchy but it is assumed that communications between the two parties were misinterpreted and resulted in the batarians opening fire. Our assets were able to escape, but the two colony ships were destroyed completely."
The image on screen morphed into photographs of ships with a very angular but irregular design, as if someone had thrown on components in an ad hoc manner on something that should've been decommissioned.
"Skip forward to a few months, a batarian flotilla entered the Mozdok System – probably because they took ONI's signal bait – and encountered the Covenant rearguard. Our drones managed to record the battle."
The video played on the massive screen. Two CRS-class light cruisers loomed over the Savos as larger ships below glassed the planet. Then, at the two minute mark of the video, the batarian flotilla appeared. Just appeared, with a dull blue wink, they didn't come out of a portal, they just appeared.
"Keyes," Landy called as she paused the video. "If you please."
Charles gave a light nod.
"The batarians are using what we believe to be, mass effect technology. They are in essence, harnessing dark energy. Virtually impossible to detect."
"That was why the Covenant didn't detect the batarians,"Landy added.
Hitting the play button, the whole room watched the batarian ships instantly open fire on the two light cruisers. Their guns hammered the ships in quick succession, every five seconds; the space around the prow would waver, signalling a round had been fired. Having been caught off guard, the cruiser on the right copped the worst of the attack. Dozens of fireballs billowed across its shields as thermodynamic energy was released. But under the murderous hail, the shields quickly failed, leaving the Covenant ship at the mercy of the high-velocity slugs.
The rounds punched straight through the destroyer, shredding its hull. Explosive decompressions wracked the entire ship, spitting out crew and debris alike.
Alone, outgunned and outmatched, the other heavily damaged light cruiser opened fire with its energy projector. Violet beams of energized matter streaked towards the lead batarian ship, gutting it stem to stern. But it was too little too late. The largest ships in the flotilla hammered home, hitting the reactor core. In an instant, the Covenant cruiser was ripped apart from within, huge chunks of debris sent in all directions.
Then the flotilla turned to a target off screen and broke into two pincers. The drone camera turned and adjusted to take in the new battle. Two Covenant destroyers and five frigates responded to the incursion. And that was when it became painfully clear that the batarians were outgunned, outmatched and out-massed. The Covenant ships were a kilometre long, give or take fifty meters. Their size was absolutely immense in comparison, and their shields just easily shrugged off the batarian fire.
Having arrived with weapons charged and ready to fire, the Covenant ships opened up with dozens of energized beams and salvos of plasma torpedoes. Bolts of energy bored their way through the enemy ships. In a matter of seconds, the entire batarian flotilla was reduced to nothing but red hot slag.
"What were they thinking?" Charet wondered aloud.
"We don't know," Landy answered. "The batarians just popped in, and fired. A panic reaction. They were caught off guard, didn't even have time to turn around and run."
Ruth turned he eyes to Keyes.
"Explain mass effect," Charet said.
"Mass effect was a term we came up with to describe the usage of dark energy. This was confirmed when we discovered an installation with a dark energy core."
Keyes entered in the commands on his tablet and projected an image of a structure that appeared to be like a tuning fork with rotating gyroscopic rings containing a small star.
"The nature of this structure found in the Skyllian Verge – Vetus System – was confirmed to us by Subject Prothean," Keyes explained. "We assume that the batarians may be using these networks traverse extreme distances."
"Subject Prothean?" Charet asked, she had a feeling he was going to drop another bombshell on them.
"Subject Prothean is a member of a long extinct species," Charles answered. "The Protheans were locked in a war against ancient machines called Reapers. The machines were winning, and in an attempt to gain victory, the Protheans sent their best into stasis to rebuild after the machines had left."
An image of a Reaper appeared on the main display. It was a shaped like a cuttlefish, and its size was nothing to laugh at. Stretching to two kilometres in length, it was nothing short of terrifying. But from the data shown, the ships firepower was immense, and they numbered in the millions.
Ruth schooled her features into a neutral expression as she looked around the room. She could see the tension in some of her Cabinet's shoulders.
"Reapers?"
"Apparently ancient machines that come every fifty thousand years to harvest all sentient life. So far, they have no relations to the Forerunners or Flood."
Charet bowed her head slightly and rubbed her chin. This was too much.
"Well are the Reapers a current threat?"
"Inconclusive," Keyes answered. "Subject Prothrean's stasis chamber was running on limited power supply to the point where power from the clocks was diverted to keep him alive. Sediment analysis pegged him as being buried around fifty thousand years ago. The Reaper threat may be still on the horizon."
"Or is never coming," Cameron Davis, the Vice President interrupted with an annoyed exasperation, glaring at Keyes. "These facts, this information you've been keeping from us are bold and ludicrous. We have more pressing concerns at hand, than to worry about some school of ancient fishes coming to wipe us out."
Keyes and Parangosky's features remained calm and serious as they glared at Davis.
"Our main concern," Lambert the Director of ODIN, interjected. "Should be both the batarians and the Brutes. Batarian activity in the Skyllian Verge are increasing, we need resources in both regions to combat them."
Admiral Steven Hackett, the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations cleared his throat and leaned forward.
"We should shore up our defences in the Vetus System," he said. "Deploy a division's worth of troops. It won't be enough to stop a determined assault, but it should act as a buffer to buy enough time for reinforcements. That should free up assets to assist the Elites."
…
The meeting came to an end, with everyone making their way out of the conference room. Charles followed the crowd, before breaking off for a courtyard where he found the Director of the FIA, smoking.
"Keyes," the older man greeted.
"Harper," Keyes replied courteously.
Reaching into his pocket, Charles fished out a packet of cigarettes. Looking at the date he wrote on the packet, he frowned inwardly. They had expired about two weeks ago. Tossing the packet into a nearby trash can, he shoved his hand into his pocket, and looked out at the rain.
"Never figured you for a smoker," Harper said.
"On occasion," Keyes answered.
"That's how it starts," Josiah chuckled. "First it's once a week. Then once a day. Then it's a packet a day."
Charles gave a rueful smile and shrugged.
"How long?" Harper asked.
"Since Cambridge," Keyes answered.
"Impressive," the older man said.
He wasn't referring to Charles's education, but the fact that Charles couldn't finish a packet of cigarettes before it expired since Cambridge.
Offering his packet, Keyes gave a grateful smile as he took a cigarette, placed it between his lips and lit it with a cheap lighter.
"Thanks," he said.
Inhaling, he drew a long deep breath, letting the savouring the flavour and the burning heat before exhaling.
"Tyrell & Lyndon," Charles said thoughtful.
"They're good, aren't they?" Harper nodded.
"Bit exorbitant."
Josiah gave a light shrug as he angled his head slightly to one side.
"I think today warrants it," he said.
A comfortable pause drifted between them as they watched the rain cascade off the flowers and leaves.
"I think I should quit," Harper said, putting out the cigarette before tossing the butt into the bin. "It's a filthy habit."
"Expensive too," Keyes added.
"So why didn't you quit?"
"Always something that came up," Charles answered.
"Well, better this than drink and regretful one night stands," Harper said thoughtfully.
"When have one night stands been anything but?" Keyes murmured.
Harper chuckled.
"You've been adventurous."
"Oh me? Never. Just heard about those through people."
A comfortable pause soon drifted between them, before being broken again by another mundane topic that managed to keep their world grounded.
"Thinking of buying a car," Keyes said, taking another drag from his cigarette.
"Which brand?" Harper asked.
"I'm thinking Audi," Charles answered. "They have that whole incognito aspect to them. But I don't want to buy a car the Company already gives me."
"You could look into BMWs," Josiah suggested. "They're not too much attention grabbing like Mercedes."
Charles gave a soft chuckle and shook his head.
"This is why I'm more of a plane person," he said absently.
"Then go for a Jaguar," Harper chuckled.
"Bit opulent, aren't they?"
"Not as decadent as Rolls," Josiah shook his head. "Jag's mix of conservative and contemporary won't draw that much attention."
"Then why not Bentley?"
"Sure, why not?" Harper shrugged. "Personally I've got a Lincoln."
"I'll consider it."
Hearing rapid footfalls behind him, Keyes turned to find Martinez jogging up to him.
"Report's come in, sir," she breathed.
Charles turned back to Harper.
"Excuse me," he said cordially, walking away with his aide.
Taking refuge in a small little lounge area, the two quickly scanned the area for any prying eyes.
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Two things, the Portal has just reopened. Local garrison is quarantining the area. So far, nothing bad has come through."
Keyes was almost flooded with joy and relief, but he quickly steeled himself.
"And the other?"
"Port Stanley has returned with multiple Spartans. Onyx is destroyed, but there is another installation in its place."
"What of Doctor Halsey?" Charles asked, almost too quickly as if he were brushing aside the irrelevant details.
"She was arrested for war crimes."
Charles felt that burning sensation running down his spine once more.
"On whose authority?"
"Admiral Parangosky."
…
1435 hours, December 25th, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)
The Daniel Hargreaves Centre for Military Intelligence Research (ONI Section III HQ)
New South Wales, Australia
Though her time at the Comoros had no doubt been fun, Shepard was itching to get home, or at least get back into action. The UNSC's recent declaration of relinquishing emergency power had been a breath of fresh air. The Brass was confident that the UEG could resume control once more, and everything could return to the way it was. Only that it wasn't. Despite having grown up with the war most of her life, Shepard knew there was no going back to the status quo of pre-war humanity. The conflict had done so much, scared too deep that time would probably never heal fully. What took 400 years of exploration and colonisation was lost in a matter of a few decades. 800 worlds glassed in less than thirty years. That was basically a planet lost every fortnight.
Sitting in the waiting room, Shepard had her eyes focused on the news bulletin in front of her. In fact, even the secretary and the two guards behind him had their attentions glued to the screen as they watched the reporter explained what has happened in The Hague.
"Prophet of Truth, the court finds you guilty of war crimes against humanity. We sentence you, to death."
Shepard could feel a smile tugging at her lips, and took comfort in the fact that the Prophet's capture was due in no small part to her and those who served with her on that fateful day. The trial had been widely publicised, and opinions of it equally varied. The defence team for the Prophet had received anonymous death threats, while others took to the forums to congratulate humanity for being morally superior to grant the Prophet a trial.
That made Aubrie's stomach turn. Not the whole trial part, but the fact people were patting themselves on the back for something that had no part in. She hated that.
Realistically, the trial was a symbolic victory. That was what it was. From the start, everyone knew the Prophet was going to be found guilty and sentenced to death.
"You think they'll kill him now?" Miranda asked.
Aubrie shook her head.
"It'll look too suspicious if they clear the entire schedule for him," she answered.
"Commander Shepard," a voice interrupted.
It was an Air Force Second Lieutenant Eliza Martinez.
"General Keyes would like to see you now."
"Wish me luck," Aubrie said to Miranda as she got up.
The office's décor was much like the waiting room, or the entire building in general. They sported a very Spartan design of crème washed walls and dark oak furniture. Martinez turned and left the office, closing the door behind her. Charles was at his desk, looking like an overworked scientist. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, there was a cup of coffee in his hands, and he seemed to not care about following correct dress protocol. Though it was his office and this was his base so no one probably cared.
Opposite him was a woman, neatly dressed in the Navy Service Uniform. She seemed familiar.
"I'm sure you're already acquainted with Admiral al-Cygni," Keyes said, breaking her thought.
She did not expect Johnson's wife to be here.
"At ease, Commander," Jilan said neutrally, giving away nothing.
"Please sit down," Charles waved towards the available seats. "How's your shoulder?"
Aubrie took the seat.
"A bit stiff," she answered.
"I know this is a bit unconventional, but right now, the UNSC is short on ships and has officers in surplus," Charles began.
"We need more Intelligence Officers," al-Cygni finished.
As much as Shepard enjoyed being in command of a destroyer, she loved the idea of being able to work on the ground once more. In fact prior to the fall of Hampton in 2547, she served with NavSpec in counter-insurrection operations. After that, the Navy was just losing too many officers and so she spent the next year training to command a ship.
"Alright," she said. "I'm in."
A look of relief seemingly washed over Charles's face, but also one of concern as well.
"Very well, I'll give you a month of leave, and then you'll return here for your training."
…
1325 hours, December 28th, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)
Sydney, Australia
The footage of humans and Elites marching the Prophet of Truth out of the Shadow of Intent were seen across every planet or station still connected to Earth. The reruns were being played on every single news network, everyone hailing this capture that the end of the war was near.
Miranda ran her thumb along the rim of her coffee mug absently as she watched her brother's expression shift before her eyes. He seemed troubled and tired, as if the years of watching humanity being torn apart were beginning to weigh heavily on him.
"Nice place," she said, referring to the café.
"I try to come here once every week," Charleston answered. "The linguini here is quite nice."
"Mmm… could go for some right now actually."
"So why didn't you?"
"The ball… remember?"
"Oh… that… yeah. Sorry, must've slipped my mind," he said tiredly.
"Charles, what's going on?" she asked, leaning forward a little bit.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her a soft smile.
"Mum's alive."
"Mom? She's still?"
Charles nodded.
"When were you going to tell me this?" she hissed quietly.
"Well, it's not exactly public news," he countered. "Officially, she's still dead."
"Seriously? The hell's going on?" Miranda whispered.
Charles looked around and returned his attention back to her, releasing a sigh from his chest as he cupped his drink of gourmet soda.
"She's being tried for war crimes."
"War crimes?" Miranda hissed.
"Calm down," her brother gestured. "Look, I can't tell you what she did…"
"Did she drop a nuke or something?"
"No, nothing of the sort."
"Then why is she being charged as a war criminal?"
Charles looked away from her, and squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment.
"To be honest, I have no idea," he said hesitantly. "I don't think I'm supposed to know that mum's back."
"This is bullshit."
"I know. My boss isn't a big fan of hers."
Miranda arched an eyebrow, exasperated and disbelieving.
"I can talk to Hood," she suggested.
"No, don't," Charles shook his head. "I just need you to keep quiet about this. I'll call in a few favours."
…
Jan [something] 2553
UNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
Sydney, Australia
Lieutenant General Charleston Keyes was now the Head of Section III – no longer acting – he had been voted in by High Command because he was the only person left capable of doing the job. Barely brushing the fourth decade of his life; he controlled the branch of Military Intelligence that was responsible for the research and acquisition of advance technology.
It was laughable really, if only it wasn't so tragic, all of his direct superiors had died in a span of a few months. The line of succession had become dangerously short, making him the only capable person left.
Rear Admiral Anna Greenfield remained as the Deputy Head, which was just fine by Keyes. At first their working relationship was purely cordial, but once they discovered their mutually shared loathing of Admiral Parangosky, Charles could say unequivocally that Anna had his trust and vice versa. He considered that an achievement since Greenfield had garnered a reputation of being paranoid to the level that Parangosky was.
Taking a seat at the U-shaped table, Keyes poured himself a glass of water and took a quick sip of the ice cold liquid before clasping his hands together. Musa-096 had called the meeting. Charles never liked the man, so full of moral conviction and hypocrisy that just seemed to grate on his nerves. In other words, Keyes viewed Musa as a self-righteous prick.
The dual metal doors opened, revealing the guards beyond and a frail wheelchair bound man – Commander Musa.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, thank you for having me here today," the washed out Spartan greeted.
Despite his polite tone, the hint of disgust was lurking just beneath.
"You made it sound like we didn't have much of a choice, Musa," Charles spoke out.
"I suppose I did… didn't I?"
"So what did you want to talk about?"
"I've come to talk about the Spartans."
Vice Admiral Tim Richlig immediately stood up.
"I knew it," he growled. "This was a waste of time."
"Sit down, Admiral," Musa said. It sounded more like a command, than him trying to allay the anger. "And you will listen to what I have to say. You owe me that much, at least."
The Commander rolled his wheelchair closer.
"The original Spartans," he began. "Leonidas and his boys, I'm talking about here… they were taken from their families as children and trained as warriors. It's two thousand years since Thermopylae, and we're still talking about them, so maybe the Spartans did something right? Doctor Catherine Halsey thought so."
Musa's eyes locked onto Keyes's.
"She kidnapped children from their beds, stole them from their families and enlisted them in a life of servitude to the UNSC."
Charles felt like arguing, but decided against it. There was no point in arguing the finer details against someone scorned or viewed themselves as a victim. The complexities of the Spartan-II Program, what it did to his mother and those who signed on for the project, it was something constantly overlooked. But who was going to care about that little detail? His mother was the one responsible for developing the Program, and that was where she had wanted to leave it at. With him on the way, his mother didn't want to be a part of something that could take her away from her family.
Though in hindsight, he was probably the reason why his mother agreed to become the Program Lead, as a mother, Halsey would've felt an obligation to watch over the Spartan-IIs she had condemned to a life of war. The cost of the Program, what it did to her personally, few would understand, and fewer still would want to. People wanted a villain to take the fall for the lines cross it took to preserve humanity, and his mother fit the role perfectly.
"But you know that part," Musa continued. "Hell, it was people like you, sitting in a room like this that gave Catherine the power to assault the bodies, genetics and minds of innocent children. Who gave her the permission she needed to sentence me to a life of pain in this chair."
Keyes could see the crest fallen looks of the Security Committee. It wasn't even their generation that greenlighted the Program, but Musa's speech had managed to bring the weight of what predecessors had done, right on top of them. Rear Admiral Serin Osman and Admiral Margaret Parangosky seemed to nod in agreement, and that made Charles's skin crawl.
It was like Osman had been picked by Parangosky to spite Halsey. But what made it even worse; were the sheer gall and the hypocrisy that Margaret had to take the moral high ground. She was the one who had given the clear to Colonel Ackerson to start the Spartan-III Program – a program solely to produce expendable supersoldiers.
"Do you know how many children Catherine Halsey killed in her quest?" Musa questioned accusingly.
Quest, he made it sound like Keyes's mother took some sickening pleasure out of it, as if it was just a little science project for her.
"I do," Musa continued. "I know all of their names. Their faces haunt my dreams in ways I can only hope they still haunt hers."
No doubts there. Halsey's actions showed an increasing desperation to save her Spartans from the war.
"Much as I may hate that woman, and rail against her crimes… it is my brothers and sisters who saved humanity. We would not be here were it not for Spartans. But since Reach fell, we have lost more of our guardians."
Charles clenched his jaw as Musa took pause.
"The Covenant has been kicked into submission, but already we hear of cultist leaders who gather followers. When those sects rise up, we must be prepared to face them."
Charles had read the reports; the Elites and the Brutes were locked in a brutal and vicious war. It seemed unlikely that any of them would be a threat in the immediate future. But the FIA had uncovered information about isolated Sangheili fleets, unscathed by the war and the Great Schism. They were the most likely threats, but with their brethren fighting the Brutes, Keyes doubted that they posed such a danger
Musa definitely knew how to sell his point though. And Keyes agreed. The UNSC needed more supersoldiers.
"And we know already that things are not well in our colonies. It is only a matter of time until the Insurrection rears its head once more."
The Insurrectionist threat, that was something undeniable; the war had fuelled their propaganda machine. Colonies that had been abandoned or evacuated were prime recruitment grounds. Though isolated, they needed to be dealt with quickly. Projection analysis did not bode well if the Insurrectionists managed to get their hands on Covenant weaponry.
"Musa… you have my sympathy…"
"No one needs your sympathy, Admiral," the Commander said flatly. "What we need is Spartans. So Keyes and I made some."
All eyes turned towards Keyes.
"When was this?" Hood asked.
"Before I took office," Charles answered. "I was actually part of the team that developed the augmentation procedure."
"Don't sell yourself short, General. You were the Lead Scientist on the project," Musa interjected.
And being the Lead Scientist meant that Keyes had a lot of freedoms which he used to the fullest. Of course, no one in this room needed to know.
Charles decided to be quiet about how Ilsa Zane was still at large and psychotically unstable. That dirty little secret about the Spartan-IV Program would come out at some other time – off the record of course.
…
1847 hours, January 24th, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)
Lockhart Medical Station
"Corporal Palmer," the Doctor greeted.
He was a tall man; strong lean build with his black hair cut neatly, and brown eyes. Definitely had oriental descent in his blood, and coupled with his fair skin, he could be easily lost in a crowd. Easily able to just fade away in a sea of faces, but he also had an endearing quality.
His voice, with that rich timbre tone and posh accent of an English Earthborn Cosmopolitan, it would make plenty of girls swoon. And that made Sarah hate him already. Well, not entirely true, she wasn't big on people who took another eight years of schooling and thought they were better than her. True they could do calculus and figure out what was wrong with someone just by looking at them, but…
I'm the one that saves their asses when shit's hit the fan.
Still he tried to be nice. He was one of those types who just seemed to have an infinite level of patience and the kind of charisma that drew people to him, which meant he had something to hide. No one was that perfect. No doctor could still be that cheerful after working in a field hospital.
Then again he seemed quite young, probably just freshly minted from some obscenely expensive medical school and private hospital back on Earth. That would explain his seemingly cheery disposition.
The name she saw on his tag was Craig Hennessey. He was the attending Doctor that had patched her up when they wheeled her in. He came buy often enough to run checks and make sure she was taking her meds. She wondered if he had a crush on her…
Persistent bastard.
"How are we today, Sarah?" he asked politely.
"Fine… pain's gone," she answered.
"Very good."
He entered something into his datapad.
"I'll give you the next set of antibiotics, just to stay on the safe side."
His phone began to buzz; she watched a frown crossed his features.
"Hennessey speaking," he answered.
The youthful glow seemed to fade away as his eyes hardened.
"I understand. Can I call you back? I'm with a patient."
Pocketing away the device, Charles returned his attention back to the monitors.
"Trouble, Craig?" Sarah asked. "Problem with the Missus?"
"What, that? No," Hennessey chuckled. "She's not my wife, or anything of the sort. Don't worry yourself about it."
"So… when am I getting out?"
"Well, if we have no problems tonight… then you'll be free to leave tomorrow morning. I'll just go get your meds."
Palmer watched Hennessey leave, his lab coat billowing behind him as he left through the doors and down the hall.
"She's all yours," he heard his voice ring out.
"Thank you, Doctor," another replied, though slightly accented.
Russian she guessed.
A man entered her room; he was tall, Asian ethnicity, bald, blue eyes and a tattoo of a fist holding arrows on his left cheek. Coupled with the black suit which probably costed more than what she would make in a month, Sarah had no idea what to make of him.
But he offered her something, something more valuable than all the money in existence… an experience of a lifetime; to become a Spartan.
"Corporal Palmer, do you have a moment to talk?" he asked, folding his arms.
"Sure, I'm not going anywhere right now."
"First of all, congratulations on your promotion."
"Thank you."
"You did good work, saving the Admiral's life."
"Just doing my job," Sarah said with a shrug.
"You're recovering okay?"
"I'm guessing you already know the answer to that," Palmer said cautiously.
"Doctors say you follow their orders, you take your meds, you do your rehab, but you don't seem to respect them very much."
"Ahhh, you're a hospital admin, coming to chew me out for giving the Docs a hard time," she said knowingly.
"Hardly," he said with a light laugh. "I'm just wondering; why the sudden lack of respect for others? Your record shows no history of that kind of behaviour with your fellow marines or ODSTs."
"Soldiers don't act like they're smarter than me just because it took them eight years longer to get out of school."
Her subtle remark didn't go unnoticed.
"I get it now."
"You do?" Sarah asked, surprised.
"Better than you might imagine, actually."
"Mister…?"
"Jun."
"Mister Jun…"
"No, just Jun."
"Oh, one name. Very enigmatic."
Definitely not a hospital Admin, Sarah's suspicions of him being a spook was practically confirmed at this point.
"Not really."
"I've been polite so far. So what do you want with me?"
"Are you familiar with the Spartans?" he asked.
"Big robot-looking guys. They stomp around the field, kicking everyone's ass and making the rest of us feel inadequate."
"Well, given the actions that landed you here, and your service record as a whole… how would you like to be one? A Spartan."
"Excuse me?"
…
1030hours, March 3rd, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)
Kenyan Savannah, near Mount Kilomanjaro
The motorcade silently pulled up to the memorial where armed MPs stood in a defensive perimeter. A Marine Sergeant dressed in his dress whites opened the doors, allowing Charles to step out into the African sun.
Today was one of those rare occasions where Charles had to wear an Air Force Ceremonial Dress Uniform. It was similar to his standard Service Dress of a white shirt and tie. But there was the added cufflinks for the shirt, and the jacket came with a platinum trimmed belted onyx-black jacket, and a pair of gold oak leave chains that looped through the left epaulette. Coupled with the gold stripes on his cuffs and lapel, he stood out against the similarly dressed honour guard detail. The uniforms were beautifully woven, and somewhat archaic, harking back to an era where men were gentlemen first and soldiers second.
Armed with the M1 Garand Rifle, the guards fell into step with Charles as he walked down the aisle and took a turn on to the stand where all the other senior officers would be seated at.
He always preferred to arrive a fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, but it seemed like Anna was already waiting for him. Scanning his eyes along the memorial, he could see a few more officers and servicemen from various branches on site. Another quarter hour passed and the entire Admiralty had arrived, as well as the honour guards and distinguished servicemen. Taking his allocated seat, Charles could see the camera crew preparing for the Presidential motorcade, as well as taking photos of the Arbiter and the Shadow of Intent.
The Sangheili ship held its distance, gliding peacefully above the ocean.
"President's here," Anna Greenfield whispered, pointing to the black motorcade.
"First time I've seen her in person," Keyes whispered back.
"Well, you're going to be seeing a lot more of her… or ODIN at least."
Camera drones floated into position as reporters prepared for their correspondence.
Finding his spot in the seating area, Keyes waited for the ceremony to begin.
…
"For us, the war is over, the storm has passed," Hood addressed the audience. "But let us not forget those who ventured into the howling night, never to return."
Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy was a rank John had held only for the past few days. It was more symbolic than anything, representative of the service he had done in order to protect humanity.
Charles had already given him the quick brief; after the ceremony was over; he was to be given an Officer Commission, probably either Commander or Captain. The remaining Spartan-IIs would be given a similar treatment. In Keyes's words, they were going to be interacting a lot more with the regular infantry, and the last thing he wanted was some egotistical inexperienced officer trying to pull rank.
John stood in the open air, his new insignia glistening against the black wool of his dress uniform. There had been controversy whether or not the Spartans should appear without armour or not, but Command eventually decided that they would attend in their dress blacks.
The sun was low over the horizon as a cool sea breeze flowed through. In unison, the honour guards from all branches stepped towards the edge of the platform.
"Ready!"
The guards stepped forward with their left foot.
"Aim!"
The rifles were shouldered, aiming at an elevated fifteen degree angle as the guards lowered their heads slightly.
"Fire!"
The rifles chorused in unison, echoing through the plains, and were then joined by cannons.
Lowering their weapons, the honour guards returned to their original position, and marched into centre stage. Bayonets flashed as they performed in sequence, heels clicked and guns clacked as gloved hands slammed against them, each branch in perfect synchronisation with one another.
When the display was over, a polite applause came from the crowd. The bugle played and a minute of silence followed.
Finally, the ceremony was over, and the guards returned to their original position. Picking up a small wreath of flowers, John cradled them with infinite care as he made his way towards the monument.
Dedicated to the memory of those who fell in the defence of Earth and her colonies,
Their deeds undimmed by time,
Their service unbound by death,
May they rest in peace.
Setting it down at the base with the others, he rose back to full height and placed his gloved hands on the smooth surface. His head bowed as he closed his eyes, and then he pulled away, snapping a crisp salute before returning to his seat.
The war was officially over now. Mankind could finally breathe once more, safe in the knowledge that tomorrow would come in the wake of a new dawn.
…
"When humans act with cruelty we characterise them as 'animals', yet the only animal that displays cruelty is humanity."
-Anthony Douglas Williams
…
Afterword
Special thanks to Carleen for beta reading this chapter.
