Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Ender's Game, and I would like to thank the creators of both worlds for creating something awesome. Also, if you see an error, please let me know.

AN: I change my mind about a beta. Anyone who wants to take on this story as a collab/beta is more than welcome. I want to flesh out this story, make it all that it can be. Whoever wants to make it so will have the thanks of all that read this story. Also, logangreenberg, I did get a good kick out of the dialogue. Feel free to keep entertaining me. Comments like those keep the story going.

RE-READ THE CHAPTER BEFORE THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY. THERE HAVE BEEN SERRIOUS MODIFICATIONS TO THE STORYLINE.

Chapter 6, New Friends

The first thing that the Chief became aware of was an ache that dragged at his limbs, and a throbbing in his skull that originated from his implant. Then he noticed that he was lying facedown on a bed, his face buried in a rather plush pillow. He could hear the dull hum of the BattleSchool, as well as the low murmur of voices in the next room.

For a moment he lay there, his eyes closed, recalling the events of that night. This night? A couple nights ago?How long was I out? He mulled over what to do about the security breach. The administration was not a branch of the UNSC-never mind possessing the required clearance-and could not be allowed access to the information in his head. There was too much classified information in there for this to be a small matter. He was going to have to kill them to ensure their silence.

He heard a whoosh as a door opened, and the rhythmic thumps of footsteps. Three pairs entered the room, the door swishing shut behind them.

"Is he awake?" It was Graff.

"He should be. The sedatives will have worn off by now." That was the Doctor.

By this point, he had associated voices with footsteps. He knew Graff's footsteps and the Doctor's footsteps. That left the last pair.

The Doctor spoke again. "He could just be sleeping. After all we've put him through, he's bound to be exhausted."

"Or he wants us to think that he's asleep." Ah, the third person was Anderson.

Anderson approached him, stopping just before the bed and knelt, from the sounds of rustling fabric. The Chief tensed, prepared to attack. If he found out that they had accessed his memories, he would have to kill them. It was too big of a risk to let that information out.

"John-"

Anderson knew his name. His name that had never been uttered in the halls of this school. It was enough to tell him that they had seen too much.

With a sharp jerk, he flung himself onto Anderson. He managed to get his arms around the man's neck, and started to choke him.

Graff and the Doctor grabbed his arms, nearly managing to pry him off. He could sense that he wasn't going to be capable of overpowering the two grown men, so he let go, lunging for Graff.

Each had an arm, so they stood apart, with the Chief strung between them. He thrashed, using his weight and strength in an attempt to pull free.

"John stop!" Anderson yelled. He stilled, glaring murderously at Anderson.

Anderson rubbed his neck, then knelt before him again, looking into his eyes. "John-"

"Master Chief Petty Officer sierra one-one-seven. Don't. Call. Me. John."

Anderson looked taken aback, and he was sure the others were too. In fact, the Doctor's grip loosened. He yanked, and nearly got free. However, the grip tightened at the last second.

"Okay, Chief. Listen we had no idea what your…"

"Neural implant."

"What your neural implant was."

"Obviously."

"And you have no idea how surprised we were. Nor how much we regret it." He stared into the Chief's eyes, and he could see the regret there. "None of us had any idea what you were, and we are so, so sorry for what we and others like us have put you through." He looked to be on the verge of tears. Oh for the love of….

"Do not feel sorry for me." He growled his response, putting up a fierce glare that had quailed many Covenant. "I don not regret my life, or my choices in it." Anderson pulled back, looking as if he had been slapped.

"Chief." He turned to look at Graff. "I have a proposal for you."

"Let him rest!" The Doctor snapped. "He's in no condition to be making any decisions."

The Chief cut in before any more could be said. "I'm not a child, you know. I am fully capable of deciding if I'm capable of making decisions." He looked pointedly at Graff. "However, I would appreciate it if you let go of me first."

Graff smiled. "You'd attack us again."

"Fine." He grunted. They weren't being stupid.

"Chief, you want to go home. That's obvious. But you're also a top-level SOB alien killer. And this entire school is training commanders to fight our aliens. Aliens who-like your Covenant-tried to exterminate us. We could be mutually beneficial to each other. If you stop attacking us and help, once all is said and done we could work on sending you home. Full access to anything you need."

Yet the second my end of the deal is fulfilled, you break your word. "And my other option?"

"A high-security orbital prison. Possibly an airlock."

"Some choice."

He frowned in consideration. His standing orders were to kill anyone who received unauthorized access to any of the information in his head. On the other hand, he was very far from home. There wasn't much that they could do with the information in the first place. Without their help, he might never get home. Most certainly he couldn't work on that particular problem in a cell. Drifting through space as an ice cube had quite a few problems of its own, as well.

"Considering my options," he couldn't believe that he was disobeying orders like this, "I'll help you. But make no mistake, screw me over and I will make you pay."

He could see the humor in Graff's eyes. "I don't doubt it. I have your word that you won't kill us, then?"

"Yes, you do."

Graff let go of his arm. The Doctor followed suit. He dropped his arms to his sides, glaring at an unhappy looking Anderson.

The Doctor decided to make himself noticed again. "Seeing as you're here, I'd like to give you a physical to make sure that we didn't do you any serious harm."

Now that was an offer that he didn't have to think twice about. "Of course."

It didn't take long to determine that he was fine, plus a bit of a headache. The Doctor still advised him on plenty of bed rest, and to take it easy for a day or two.

Afterwards, he was escorted to his room. None of the other boys stirred, and the Chief was asleep within moments.

The next couple of days were a return to normal. It was superficial, he knew, yet what could he do about it? Besides, it gave him time to think and plan his next move. It could be spent researching, but he didn't dare try the codes for now. They had probably changed them anyway.

He was still majorly concerned about the security breach. Looking back, he had been weak and not at his best because of the drugs and pain. Otherwise, he might have been able to take out those three. It exasperated him that they had gotten the better of him. So, he now spent his time planning the neutralization of security breaches. He had several ideas to be used as a contingency measure. A couple involved killing everyone aboard the BattleSchool, but they were last-case scenario options.

He was even devising plans during advanced interstellar physics. Maybe I could scavenge parts for a firearm from somewhere. The physics locker has the parts to make a decent railgun…. Godthis class is so boring.

"Chief?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Harrell?"

"Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then would you care to demonstrate by finding the answer to this problem?"

"Yes, sir." The problem was solving for the acceleration of a slingshot maneuver around a star based on fuel, mass, and some other variables. It was child's play.

"You're going to have an average acceleration of 1394 kilometers per second, with an exit vector of 230, 357, 196. A three-second burn will have you reaching the target." Lieutenant Harrell looked just as shocked as the rest of the class. Maybe I shouldn't have done that in my head. "I was working on it while you were talking about the gravitational interference of the planet."

"That is… correct. Would you care to explain how you got there?"

The rest of class went by quickly, with Lieutenant Harrell occasionally questioning him on problems. On the way out of class, Harrell stopped him. "Chief, a minute?"

"Yes sir."

They waited for everyone else to file out of the class. Once they were gone, they moved to Harrell's office. His office was like any other room in the BattleSchool. Bare of decoration and paper, it was just a desk with a computer. There was no paperwork, as everything was digital here.

"Sit." The Chief sat. "Chief, the teachers have been informed of your… unique origins. We've also become aware of your level of knowledge." Crap.

Lieutenant Harrell leaned forward on his elbows. "Chief, from this point on, I'm going to expect better from you. No more B's. You're capable of more, so do more."

He blinked. Definitely not what he was expecting. "Yes sir."

Amusement flickered across Harrell's face. "Believe it or not, your teachers want to see you do well here. If you have problems, let us know." He looked thoughtful for a second. "And in case you're wondering, we weren't told any sensitive information. Graff said something about that ending with explosives."

They shared a chuckle before Harrell wrote him off for the next class. After that, he started watching his teachers. They treated him differently, more respectful, more challenging. He didn't really mind, but it did call him out. The teachers might know, but the kids didn't. They were smart enough to know that something was up, too.

Well if he started acting smart, that would explain it for them. Besides, he was getting bored, and this could help with that. Either study or destroy something.

So it was in this fashion that the weeks began to pass. He allowed himself to be a top student, while at the same time plotting methods of death and destruction. This extended to computers as well, as the information in his head had to be stored in there as well. He discovered his codes had indeed been changed, and he didn't think that getting new ones was a good idea. So his research ground to a halt. Life fell into a routine, but it couldn't last forever.