"All systems check green. UNSC Corvette Hades Gate fully operational and ready for departure. Waiting for permission from Control" the young voice of Kyle Doran, the ships Navigation Officer stated matter-of-factly.

The ship's captain, John Miles, nodded, and then took a sip of his third - no fourth - cup of cold, disgusting mud-water the UNSC dare calls 'coffee'. "Athena, bring up the mission reports to my Neural Interface."

"Of course Captain" Athena, a 4th generation 'smart' AI, said in her soothing British accent.

Immediately the mission file was downloaded into his brain and projected into his retinas. Although having already been thoroughly debriefed from the ONI Spooks, he still liked to read through the mission reports himself. Going over every minute detail - no matter how small or seemingly insignificant - could end up saving lives. Miles was anything but brash, choosing always to analyze every situation thoroughly before acting. It was why the Office of Naval Intelligence recruited him.

Not that he expected anything to go wrong on this routine recon mission to Harvest. Every two months he was assigned to travel to the infamous planet, gather the terra-forming data, and perhaps blast anyone stupid enough to go poking through the ruins of battle's past. That was unlikely; ONI would know immediately if any objects in slip-space were heading to Harvest; and even if scavengers somehow made it past the slip-space sensors undetected - they would never find anything of real value. The weapons systems, computer tech, slip-space drives, and especially navigational data were stripped long ago. Although the Cole Protocol seemed almost pointless now - as every alien faction now knew where Earth was located - it was still enacted by High Command.

Still, that didn't stop some from trying. Plenty of scavengers and pirates had attempted to steal some of the wreckage and sell it to the highest bidder after the war ended. The historical significance made any item from Harvest highly prized after all. The thought of these low-lives defiling the hallowed space of Harvest sickened Miles, and he was glad that the UNSC made the zone a restricted area. After it was apparent that any unauthorized ship making a jump to Harvest would be destroyed, the looting had stopped.

Taking another sip of his cold coffee, Miles 'thought' up the debriefings of the missions from previous years. He sifted through the data displayed on his retinas. The terra-forming of Harvest was going better than planned. Originally the UNSC had projected it could take up to over 150 - 200 years to complete. As it turns out, terra-forming worlds that were glassed is a lot harder than normal planets due to the insane amount of radiation it caused. The planet had already been seeded with plant and flora life not too long after the war; and the once nearly blackened world had slowly began to turn green once again. After just four decades the air was now comfortably breathable, and the planet's natural weather cycles began to stabilize. However, the radiation from the glassing was incredibly high. If left alone, ONI projected it would take about 150,000 years before the planet was safe for human colonization again.

Fortunately the UNSC's top scientists came up with a way to neutralize the radiation. Mile's wasn't sure how it was done exactly - something about engineered molecules that absorbed the radiation particles - but he did know it was working beyond what even the most optimistic could had hoped for. In truth, the planet would, in theory, be habitable in less than three decades - a full century sooner than originally thought.

Athena materialized in the Holo-Projector next to the Captain's chair. "Permission granted. We have authorization to depart."

"Alright. Activate the trans-light engines. Doran, plot a course for Harvest."

"Aye-aye Captain. Course plotted. Estimate time of arrival is one week and 4 days."

"Understood." Mile's sat down on the command chair and stared out into the void. In front of the ship the familiar blue portal of slipstream space appeared, and the ship was quickly engulfed into utter blackness. Saying that the new UNSC trans-light engines were far faster than previous generations was an understatement. During the Great War era, Shaw-Fujikawa engines could at best travel a measly two to three light years per day. A 'short' jump would take up to two months, while long jumps could take up to half a year or longer. But now thanks to reversed engineered Forerunner technology, the trip to the remote world - a journey that in previous generations would have taken eight months - could now be reached in weeks.

Miles loved travelling to Harvest - if nothing more than to appreciate the significance of the planet. It was the first world to fall to the Covenant; the first to be glassed. It was where the greatest struggle in human history began. He loved drifting his ship through the ruins of one of the most famous battles in history. Passing by the awesome ships that most would only read about in history books; seeing that gargantuan Super Carrier with your own eyes - the thought of it always sent shivers down Miles' back. The experience of it all; the knowledge that you were entering sacred space and hallowed grounds - there was simply nothing to compare it to.

However, for some unknown reason, the familiar feelings of delight and excitement weren't present. A strange sense of foreboding grasped him - as if uncertainty and danger lay before him. Miles shook it off. He was tired, and the 'coffee' only succeeded in making him feel queasy in the pit of his stomach. The fact was, historical significance aside, this was just another routine recon mission. He need not worry himself.


UNSC/URS 3rd Garrison Training Facility Headquarters

Two short, curt knocks interrupted the General's thoughts as he read through the file of Commander Michael J. Shepard.

"Enter."

Michael proceeded in the office and stopped precisely three feet in front of the desk. If he was surprised to see a Sangheili standing behind the General, he didn't show it. He offered a crisp salute. "Reporting as ordered, Sir."

"At ease, Lieutenant."

Michael placed his hands in the small of his back, executing a picture perfect parade rest form. General Edward Buck took a moment to observe the young man. He was tall - 6'3 - and thoroughly built; muscular yet at the same time lean. His short cut blond hair and blue eyes gave hint to his German ancestry, while his darkened Caucasian skin tone betrayed his mixed ethnic diversity. Buck was always good at reading people, and the aura the young lieutenant gave off was one of easy confidence - a natural leader. Buck could see that even if he hadn't seen him in action. When he first learned about the man's natural skills in combat, he wondered why High Command didn't put him on the border front leading men against Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar pirates, but instead stationed him in the most remote colony in UNSC space. It wasn't until he read the man's file that he understood. Everyone who lived on Shanxi had to go through extensive background checks about their willingness to live and work with aliens. The last thing the UNSC and URS wanted was a major cross-species incident on a planet meant to symbolize unity. These background checks extended to the men and women on the colony's joint defense force as well. And the fact was, not a whole lot of humans liked the idea of taking orders from a Sangheili, to put it mildly. In truth, the most optimistic one could say about Human/Sangheili relations was that it was not (openly) hostile. However, given Michael's past it was obvious why he was more willing to trust the Sangheili than most.

"Lieutenant", the General began, "Do you know why you're here?"

Michael seemed to deeply consider, yet after a few seconds he answered truthfully. "No Sir, I don't."

"How loyal are you to humanity?" the General asked.

"Sir?" Michael seemed surprised by the General's odd question.

"How far are you willing to go to keep humanity safe?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect UNSC space." Michael replied, without a hint of doubt.

"Whatever it takes?"

"Yes Sir."

"Even if that means leaving the UNSC?"

Michael eye's slightly widened at the General's assertion. Buck wasn't surprised by Michael's less than hidden shock at his words. He had studied the man's history extensively - the UNSC was everything to him.

"Sir, I don't understand" Michael finally replied.

The Sangheili - who until now had remained silent, stepped forward. "I think it time we tell him."

The General nodded, and then pulled out a large folder and dropped it on his desk. Large, bold letters marked the front.

'ABOVE TOP SECRET: THE N7 PROJECT'

General Buck began. "The UNSC likes to tell the people that the Jiralhanae don't threaten us; that they're more content to destroy themselves in their own region of space." He gave Michael a firm look. "But you and I know better."

The mention of the Jiralhanae caused Michael to tense - almost imperceptible, but the anger, resentment, and…hatred was definitely present. He did know the threat the Brutes posed - He knew it better than anyone. Twenty-three years did nothing to lessen the pain. "Yes Sir. The Brutes can't be ignored forever. We have to do more than just stay on the defensive."

"You're quite right." Buck replied. He gestured to the folder on his desk. "That's why the UNSC and URS are forming a new military division. The N7 program will be composed of the best of our respective species. Unlike other joint military operations - which are simply UNSC and URS teams coordinating with each other - this will be the first truly multi-race combat division. Race won't matter; every candidate is chosen purely by merit. You will be in charge of some aliens, and some aliens will be in charge of you. All will work together with a common goal - to dismantle, disrupt, and destroy any and all threats posed to the UNSC and URS."

Michael took in everything he was told. "Sir, you want me to be a part of this project?"

This time it was the Sangheili who spoke. "I am R'Loss Ravelum, the overseer of this project. I have observed you in action. Your combat skills are exceptional Commander, and your command abilities are equally impressive. You have that fire - that flare in you that makes others willing to follow you into the depths of the abyss." Michael didn't quite know what to say about the compliment. The Sangheili continued, "And your history makes you more than willing to work with my kind. It's why you choose to apply for the Joint Species Command Force is it not?"

A few moments of awkward silence past before Michael responded. "Yes, it is. Although when I joined I had hoped to be deployed on the border front so I could make a difference. Honestly, I don't feel like I'm doing any good being stationed here."

"Well, now you do have a chance to make a difference" Buck said. "This program will run by the motto of 'the best defense is a good offense'. N7 teams won't be defending the border colonies - that's what the joint defense force is for. You will instead go on the offensive; penetrating deep behind enemy lines - striking them where it truly hurts. You will take the fight to them."

Michael understood. Better to fight on enemy territory than on one's own. For decades the UNSC had dealt with these skirmishes on a purely defensive matter. And while that kept any Kig-Yar pirates or Brute clans refined to the border - it also meant that virtually every engagement took place in UNSC and URS space. Striking the enemy before they strike you was a policy that Michael could only approve of. And from what he was told, this N7 program was like a dream come true. However, there was something that still bothered him.

"I understand the wisdom in that, Sir. It's about time we became proactive instead of reactive." Michael said. "But I have to ask, what did you mean about leaving the UNSC?"

"While the N7 program will be jointly operated, you will no longer be considered part of the UNSC military. Officially, this program will remain off the books. High Command doesn't want this project to be hampered with red-tape and regulations. What you do and how you do it - even your own identity - will be classified above top secret."

Ravelum spoke. "You and your comrades will be the silent guardians of our people. Although unknown, you will have more of an impact than an entire fleet."

Michael pondered the Sangheili's words and what it meant for him. He thought of the single event that would forever define his life and the choices he would make; the moment that would haunt his dreams even to this day. He remembered the fear, the sheer terror that gripped him; the feeling of utter hopelessness. He remembered the blood - so much blood; of his neighbors, of his friends, of his…it was too painful to think about. He couldn't do anything; so young, so powerless. He could only hide - hide a pray the savages wouldn't find and slaughter him like they did everyone else.

But he was no longer that scared, defenseless 8 year old boy who cowered in hiding. He was a powerful warrior who could fight back.

Buck then spoke, bringing Michael out his thoughts. "Anymore questions you want to ask?"

Only one crossed his mind.

"How soon can we begin?"


A/N: Sorry about the long wait. It's been a busy couple of days. Hopefully I can manage to update other chapters quicker.

Honestly, I don't feel this chapter was up to standard, but after writing it - then modifying it - then scraping all together - then re-writing and modifying again; well, I just wanted to get it over with.

Thanks for all of your reviews and suggestions. I promise the next chapters will be a lot more exiting.