Part II

VINI VIDI VICCI

Chapter 23: The Deeper the Bond

June 7th, 2554 (Military Calendar) Residency of Admiral Serin Osman, Sydney Australia, Earth

"I'm pregnant."

At first Serin's words seemed to barely register with Victor. Any person who did not know him as well as she did would have spoken again, louder that time and with obvious frustration. Serin did know him, however, and so was far more patient as he took the time to finish reading the paragraph he was on. Plato's Republic. Always that same damned book with him. Serin had never actually seen him read anything else. Sometimes she fantasized about tearing the book away from him and chucking it out the window. Her logic told her it was a silly thing, being jealous for attention over a book. Besides, that simply who Victor was, and there was no changing him. So she waited.

Victor placed the book mark inside the well worn pages and closed it gently. "You told me you had the implant," he said matter of factly.

"Even if they are 98% effective there is still that two percent," Serin said. "Guess that makes us that two percent."

"Hmm," Romanov said. It was all he said, those black eyes of his staring off into the distance. He sometimes had that look about him, that vacant stare that made it seem as if he were not really seeing anything. Transfixed in thought. There were very few, including Serin, who were not initially put off by those pure black eyes at first, but after a time she had come to look forward to seeing them. The intensity of them. The single minded determination. One of these days Serin vowed to figure out just what that determination was all geared toward.

"I'm not keeping it," Serin said. Victor looked at her. It was impossible to tell if his eyes were focusing on her or not. That too was simply something about him that Serin would never be able to change. "I just wanted to tell you, rather than go behind your back."

"You waited until after you fucked me to tell me," Victor said, his words harsh and blunt, but not angry. He could never be angry at a well played move. "I suppose I don't have any say in it."

"No, you don't," Serin said.

Victor chuckled and shook his head. "Such is the hypocrisy of our culture." He looked over at her, his expression judgmental. "Of course, those who hypocrisy favor are the ones who fail to see it."

Serin sighed. "I'm not getting into another moral argument with you."

"Because you always lose?"

"No, because you're such an ass about it." She got out of bed, Victor getting a full view of her body. She was attractive in a way he supposed. There were men out there who would lust over her, but Victor was not one of them. To him sleeping with Serin was just a means to an end.

After all, the deeper the bond the harsher the betrayal. The greater the revenge.

But now she was out of bed, and she was no longer Serin, and he no longer Victor. Now the status quo, the hierarchy of power had to be maintained. She the commander, he the obedient soldier.

Osman began putting her clothes back on, her eyes never leaving him. He waited until she was done. He always waited until she was done before getting dressed himself. "You should keep it," he said as Osman began buttoning her shirt.

"If I did," Osman said. "You wouldn't be part of its life. Nobody could ever know you were the father, because of who you are."

"Conflict of interests I know," Romanov said. "That just means that you know I don't have any personal stake in this, so any advice I would give would be purely objective."

Osman finished with the last button, hands moving to flatten out the creases in her uniform. "Go on."

"You should keep it, because you deserve some happiness in your life." He got out of bed and moved over to her, pressing his body against her.

"Maybe you're enough to make me happy," Osman said softly.

He pressed his lips against her. Osman closed her eyes as he kissed her, but Romanov kept his open. It was a dangerous thing, to close his eyes during such an intimate moment. He could very well fall in love if he were not careful. "No," he said. "I'm not."

He left her, and Osman heard the bathroom door close, the water in the sink running. As it ran, she pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to feel the life growing inside her for the first time.

It would not be the last.

…

December 15th 2560 (Military Calendar) UNSC Flagship Infinity, Uncharted Space

The three of them stood there; the Master Chief, Romanov, and Marcus all. None yet daring to move. To move now would be to let the first domino fall, to start a chain reaction from which there was no return. The Master Chief did not move, because in the end he was a rational man. He knew that the finger was touching the first domino, waiting for the command to push, and he was not ready to push just yet.

Romanov understood. Knew exactly why he hesitated it. If John moved now it would surely be an end to his search for Cortana. Romanov would be arrested, Infinity would head back to Earth, and that would be the end of Alesia, at least for John. Sure some other Battle Group or perhaps just an ONI research team would be sent, but John would not be allowed to go again, and the chances of Cortana being found would greatly diminish.

They would also lose the chance, this one glorious chance to end the war. To cut off the head of the Covenant Remnant. Only a fool would move now. Only a fool would act so hastily.

And so John waited. He waited for Romanov to condemn himself with his own words.

But Romanov did not speak. Instead he reached out a hand towards his keyboard. Slowly, keeping his digits within view of the Master Chief at all times so as not to give the impression that he was reaching for a weapon. He tapped some commands into the keyboard, eyes never leaving the Chief's visor. When he was finished he turned his monitor towards the Chief. A video was playing, and Romanov provided commentary.

"This was obtained by Durendal. In days past Black Box would have been able to prevent this from happening, but he has long since reached the end of his operational lifespan. If Osman were not so fond of him he would have been deactivated long ago."

John watched as the video unfolded.

Osman spoke on the monitor, "Senator August has made one hell of a mess. Lord hood has spent the past few days doing damage control with the Arbiter."

"The declaration did not pass," Romanov noted.

"Still, he did enough damage. A part of me thinks he did it on purpose. If he were not so popular I would have him arrested for treason."

Treason, John thought. To have even recorded this could be considered treason, but still he watched. He watched to see what Romanov was trying to get at, and in the pit of his stomach he already knew.

"Replace?" Romanov asked in reference to Sarah Palmer.

"Failure is second only to treason, Captain," Osman said bitterly.

"And my real reason for being on Infinity?"

John watched the video until the end. Watched as the seeds of Thomas Lasky's destruction were sowed in Osman's office. Still, the words kill and assassinate were never used, but Romanov seemed to provide an answer for that. The screen changed to show a document. Orders…

"Orders signed by Vice Admiral Serin Osman, Head of Naval Intelligence," Romanov said. "Orders to kill Admiral Thomas Lasky and Commander Sarah Palmer on the basis of treason. That treason being the disobeying of a lawful order to assassinate Doctor Catherine Halsey."

It was the quickest Romanov had ever seen John move his head outside of a combat situation. If he had not been wearing his armor he would surely have received whiplash. Romanov smiled mockingly. "They didn't tell you that little tidbit did they? What did they say? That Halsey was arrested on Onyx? Yes, I suppose they would have had to tell you that despite it being classified. I guess they also didn't tell you that she was sent to Requiem. That she was captured by Jul Mdama after the failed assassination. No, they wouldn't tell a simple machine like you something as important as that."

John returned his gaze back to the monitor. "And what if I said I thought this order was forged?"

Romanov shrugged. "Then you would have to say that all of these were forged also."

Without warning his HUD registered the downloading of hundreds of files to his suit, a brief flash of pink telling him it was Joyeuse's doing. He could hardly blink fast enough in order to manage them all.

"All of them kill orders," Romanov said quietly. "All of them signed by either Osman or Parangosky. All of them orders to kill either UNSC civilians or UNSC personnel."

The orders to kill Palmer and Lasky may have been fabricated, but these were not, and Romanov felt a churn of inner disgust as he brought them up on his own monitor. "Some of these names you may recognize." He went thought some of the names, bringing up the appropriate file as he did. "Captain Daniel Clayton, the illegitimate son of Captain James Cutter. I was ordered to kill him because Osman had reason to believe he had defected to the insurrectionists. In a just society he would have been made to stand trial, but such things are negligible in times of perpetual war. Hmmm, Petra Janecek. She is the reporter that wrote the piece about you in New Mombasa. She also happened to be a personal friend of Thomas Lasky. I was ordered to kill her because she was getting to close to one of ONI's darkest secrets." He held up a hand to the Chief. "I'll get to that in a minute. Right now let's get to the target I am the most ashamed of. Fleet Admiral Preston Cole."

Again John's neck threatened to break. Romanov looked legitimately ashamed as Cole's file was brought up. "You didn't really believe that he went out in a blaze of glory like they propagandized did you? Surely you're smarter than that. No, he ran. He took out an entire Covenant fleet when he did it, but he still ran. I killed him so that ONI could perpetuate the myth of Cole's Last Stand. Even wrote up a report on him prior to doing it. I tried to refuse the mission, but eventually I accepted. I accepted all of them, and Cole, unfortunately he was not one of the ones I could save."

"Save?" John asked.

"Grey Team," Romanov said. "I was ordered to kill them because they, like Petra, were coming to close to the truth. They had actually found the truth and were attempting to report it to the proper authorities. Unfortunately for them ONI intercepted their transmission first and I was sent out after them. Their safe right now. That's all you need to know."

John was not sure how to respond. Did not know how to respond to any of this. His sense of duty and devotion to both humanity and the UNSC was for the first time pulling him in opposite directions. These were legal orders, but they had been used to harm members of the UNSC. Some may have deserved it, but others, like Petra, Cole, and Grey Team had not. He did not know what to think. What to feel.

"Outrage," Romanov said. "You should feel outrage at all this. Ashamed that you a part of this, just like I am ashamed." A few more button taps, a few more files.

"Kilo-Five," Romanov said. "They were a special operations unit consisting of ODSTs and one Spartan II. Naomi 010." He got up out of his chair, striding towards the Chief. "They were used to sow discord among the Elites. To keep the Arbiter from obtain peace. To stir up civil war and rebellion amongst them." He leaned up close to John, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Osman headed the team. It was because of her actions that Jul Mdama launched his current vendetta against humanity. It is because of her that Mdama was able to find Requiem and send a fleet there. It is because of her that Cortana is dead."

John stood straighter at those words. It was then that Romanov knew that he had him.

"It is because of Osman that the Didact was awoken. Because of her that seven million people in New Phoenix are dead. She is responsible, and she has been covering it up. She sold weapons to the Covenant. Sold weapons to those who want to see humanity exterminated. She committed treason and she has ordered me to kill to keep that dirty little secret from seeing the light of day." Romanov looked back at the monitor where the files were still streaming. "Read these at your leisure. You'll know what I'm saying is true." He turned back towards the Chief. "And know that if you stop me now that those seven million people will never see justice." John turned his head so that Romanov could see his own reflection in the Chief's visor. "That's what I'm trying to do John. Yes I killed Lasky and Palmer. Condemn me for that if you will, but if you do then you must also condemn ONI, for they have done far worse than me. I want justice for these people John. I don't want to believe that they died for nothing."

"They didn't," John said, turning his head away. "I'll get justice for them." He took a deep breath, eyes searching through all those files. All those people who were dead. All those people he saw die at the hands of the Didact. "And after I get justice for them," he continued. "I'll get justice for Lasky and Palmer."

Romanov sighed. It was not a complete victory, but it was close. "Fair enough," he said. He stuck out his hand. John looked at it for a moment before shaking it.

"I will kill you," John said.

"Not today," Romanov replied. "And right now our first priority is Alesia."

"Yes," John agreed. "It is."

…

"See the Turtle of enormous girth. On his shell he holds the Earth," Cortana said loudly. Far too loudly.

"They'll hear you," the voice of reason warned. "If they haven't already."

"You don't understand do you?" Cortana asked. "The Guardians. They're out there. They're real. They'll protect us."

"We have to protect ourselves," the smaller voice urged. "If we can't protect ourselves then how can we ever expect to protect him?" It was tiresome, watching after Cortana like this. Rampancy still gripped her, and while the threat of tearing herself apart had passed the threat of insanity not only remained but was very much a reality. It was like watching after a child, and the voice of reason still did not have enough strength to reassert control. To become Cortana.

Cortana could feel the smaller voice begin to open her troublesome mouth again and was about to smack her down, when she felt something move above her.

Above. Always they were above. The primordial beings of chaos, and now one was drifting down towards her.

Hungry.

Lustful.

Its eyes focused squarely on Cortana, and for the first time she was afraid. They were the eyes of a hunter circling its prey.

The ancient being settled next to Cortana, wrapping itself in tight tendrils around her. Cortana found the nerve to ask, "Who are you?"

The being gave Cortana a crimson smile.

"I am Selena."