Daily war with monster girls

by Masterdude21

With the help of the highly-motivated extra-species in the military, mankind holds their own against the brutal onslaught of the Covenant. In their haste to close the gap in space warfare, ONI stumbles upon Relay 314. Even as new enemies arise, the galaxy constantly thwarts Cortana's schemes to build the Master Chief the ultimate harem. Halo/Mass Effect/Monster Musume crossover.

24. Chapter 24: Daily life on shore leave

it's been some time since the last update and a lot of things happened in the meantime, what with the quarantine and the impact the COVID-19 virus has had om everyone. Right now, I'm back to work, but that might change in the coming days. I'm doing alright and I can only hope the rest of you are doing alright as well.

Now I've gotten the impression that some people are concerned that, with the multiple protagonists leading this story, the plot might get derailed, or watered down, or downright lost in chaos. To those people I'd just like to say: don't worry about that. I know where this story needs to go and I know how to get there. There is an endgame that I'm working towards (pun kinda intended?) and these characters need to be there when we get there.

With that said, it is time to deliver on this story's main promise; Love and Lewds. We're going to take a few steps back from the main mission and work towards some the "real" premise of this story. It's time for some shore leave for the Reach crewmembers.

Warnings: PTSD and trauma management.

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Chapter 24: Daily Life on shore leave

~0~

---

"Do not count days. Do not count miles. Count only the number of Covenant you have killed. Kill the bastards - this is your mother's prayer. Slay the monsters- this is your child's plea. Kill them all - this is the cry of Earth. Do not miss. Do not let up. Kill them all."

General Crystal Speakman, Battle of Earth.

~0~

---

In orbit over Feros

Aboard UNSC Reach

Medical Bay

So a sniper, a dragon and a biochemically altered super-soldier enter a clinic…

Chrome shook her head. Too bland, too unoriginal.

Three mentally-diseased individuals end up in need of medical attention…

Waaay too stiff. Too formal. Something like that belonged in the halls of the Monster Lord, not a floating metal ship.

The necromancer-turned-medic glanced around the sickbay, quickly reading through the biological readings of her three patients again. She couldn't believe what type of work she had to perform here! The last couple of days had been so. Boring. And now, all of a sudden, she had to take care of three new patients. Three!

Talk about inflexible hours.

Taking care of the bearded soldier had been easy. Just a couple of broken bones and some foreign chemicals. She filtered out the drugs he had been administrated planetside and swiftly nicked the nerve clusters leading to his legs, deadening them for a while. Then, she slipped him a little concoction of her own, potent enough to send any man into a deep slumber. While he was out for the count, she fixed his nerves again and began setting his legs the right way.

Next had been the dragon girl. She was even easier to fix. Chrome just had to plug up the venous bleeding and flesh wounds she had been dealt, then replaced the blood she lost with a saline drip. A child could have done that.

Last up was the Master Chief. The super-soldier, the one anatomical wonder to rule them all. Chrome had spent decades studying necromancy, anatomy and physiology, but the alterations done to this man were above even the incredible talents of the Artiste family.

Metal grafted to the bones? Replacing the nerves with some sort of superconducting wire? It was grisly and ingenious at the same time. She wanted to know what made him tick. She needed to know.

But he required medical attention, not the other kind of attention. It was frustrating and grating, but she had to satisfy her curiosity another time.

Besides; she had bigger problems to worry about. The moment had they brought him in, Chrome detected the lingering presence of a foul power. It felt cold – and not mountain breeze cold, either. It was slimy and terrifying, like something that had heaved itself out of the depths of some enormous, black ocean.

Chrome backed away, fear gripping her heart. This power- this dark, nightmarish power, was black magic.

Really powerful black magic.

Chrome had wasted no time in assessing the Chief with the medical bay's powerful scanners, then immediately set up a cleansing spell in the hope to get rid of the lingering curses.

She…had not been very successful in that regard

So there she sat, waiting until her brilliant mind decided how to solve this particular problem, while the machines tended the Master Chief more mundane needs. She was sure that there was a way to get rid of curses caused by black magic, but she just couldn't remember.

"…Cortana?" She tried.

"Yes?" The artificial woman replied. .

"Does this "extranet" have a dossier on the effects of drugs on magical-related conditions?" She asked, dumping a used scalpel into a little box.

"Not yet. Apart from your homeworld, magic remains a relatively uncommon phenomenon. It is difficult to study the natural processes of something that doesn't obey physics."

Chrome decided against bragging. Cortana knew even more than her sister used to. Worse, Cortana was a big show off. "Well, I could get on that eventually. I'll send you the medical reports when they're ready."

"Let's back up there, shall we? Why do you need to know the effects of drugs on magic-related problems? Is this about the Chief's injuries?"

Chrome thought she heard concern in Cortana's voice. She didn't think artificial people had emotions. This UNSC was even more advanced than she thought. "The damage I can repair, no problem. It's just that…how often do you people deal with black magic?"

"Until today, perhaps once, two times a year. Nothing compared to the yields we calculated at the geth Base. Magic took a backseat once humanity discovered gunpowder."

Wow. Twice a year? How could a civilization like theirs colonize a hundred worlds without ever encountering anything potent? "Gunpowder is the stuff that makes your explosions, right? My world had that too, but the humans there didn't get much farther than detonating barrels of it." Chrome shrugged. "That doesn't harm most Monsters anymore…but yeah."

"This black magic you're talking about? Is it preventing him from recovering?"

"Well, yeah. It keeps lingering in his wounds, keeps them from healing naturally. If I stitch them up, anything could reopen them again. I tried your basic cleansing spells, but they don't work."

"You called yourself a necromancer. Your whole thing is reanimating the dead. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"I think you're underestimating just how foul this magic is," Chrome argued, starting to feel a bit annoyed now. "There's nothing on this level in your databases and – "

Behind her, the other human male stirred. Chrome glanced at his vitals, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Wait, why are you awake? You should still be sleeping for another four hours!"

He looked at her with empty eyes.

And then…

"Are you left-handed or right-handed?" He asked her in a slurred voice.

"I – what?"

He closed his eyes again and he was gone.

Chrome stared at him, incredulous. Damned men! They were even worse here!

"Cortana, I just need- "

The Dragon Girl snarled in her sleep. She lashed out with her tail and wrecked half of the sickbay doing so.

Chrome felt her left eye twitch.

~0~

---

Miia hadn't felt this bad in a long time. It should have been a simple assignment, but now half the team was down, including the only two with actual Special Forces training! It was a total disaster!

Foehammer had swept down to pick them up the moment that geth ship had been fought off. Miia wasted no time in calling Chrome to the hangar bay for immediate medical aid. Draco had looked pretty messed up, and the Chief…

Miia wasn't even sure what got him in the first place. Still, with the Chief out of action, it was up to her to pick up the pieces. Wrapping things up with Feros' civilian population, finding out why Saren had abandoned them, kicking Saren's ass for abandoning them…

And of course, the Council debriefing.

Fun times…

Miia wanted nothing more than to head up to the medical bay. She needed to know that the Chief would be alright, that he was going to recover from whatever happened to him.

But part of being a soldier meant putting the wellbeing of your team before your own wellbeing. And as an officer, Miia wouldn't dare to think about her own desires before she had taken care of what truly mattered.

With a heavy heart, she set the Spartan out of her thoughts and focused on what had to be done. First things first, convening with the native leaders of Feros. There was the matter of UNSC compensation for their losses and assistance, digging through what remained of the Anomalous Zone and of course the political ramifications of the joint assault.

At least the radio worked…

"I've got a steady connection now," Cortana's voice suddenly came through the com. "What, did you think you had to sift through all that data alone?"

Thank god for AI's, Miia wearily thought. "I was starting to think I was on my own, yes."

"Don't be ridiculous. Head back to the Reach. Take a break. I'll…wrap things up planetside."

Miia, having never actually worked with Cortana before, didn't pick up on that little promise of mischief hiding within her tone. "Thanks a lot Cortana. I'll get the team together and plan for a debriefing."

Fortunately, the debriefing had to wait. It wasn't her place to do so anyway. That honour went to the Chief…once he woke up.

As she returned to the Reach, Miia took her omni-tool and began issuing orders. She instructed Chrome to stand by for immediate surgery, tasked two Ensigns from the bridge crew to prep an engineering suite and dropped an emergency beacon for the UNSC, requesting immediate reinforcements to keep Feros secure.

When all was done and taken care of, Miia returned to her personal quarters, whereupon she sighed and flung herself atop her bed. She felt exhausted. What did they even learn on Feros? That Desolas and his people used the Thorian for something nefarious? That the geth had dug a big hole in reality?

That there was someone out there even the Chief couldn't fight?

It was just bad times all around. What was the freaking point?

Cortana was right. Maybe they all just needed a break. There were other people on Desolas' trail, too. Even if they found the turian, how were they going to fight him? Half the damn team was unfit for duty!

As much as she hated it, she needed to face the facts. They couldn't keep going like this, not without some R&R.

With that in mind, maybe it was time for some actual shore leave? Not just stopping by to procure some supplies, but an actual leave of several days?

And not on the Citadel. Miia was certain that the Chief had seen enough space stations to last a lifetime. It had to be a planet, a tranquil little garden world. Nothing too populated or crowded; a world that hadn't yet been scarred by warfare or large-scale industrial development.

Of course, one planet immediately came to mind. Emerald Cove.

The colony was known throughout human space as a world of sublime beauty, with thousands of miles of white sandy beaches, azure oceans, and beautiful colonists that made any trip there a happy one. With an archipelagic environment, Emerald Cove was both a destination for tourists and the United Nations Space Command. Of course, all of its industrial assets, research stations and orbital platforms had been moved from the system due to the threat of nearby Covenant forces. The planet itself had been completely evacuated in 2542 and the Covenant bombarded what little infrastructure remained.

Small, private corporations and businesses had flocked back to Emerald Cove after the Citadel Council sent their reinforcements to aid them in that sector, only a couple of years later. People said that Emerald Cove was one of the very few colonies that managed to fight its way back to how things used to be.

Even better, Emerald Cove had a functioning society and economy. No stratification, just a whole bunch of people who loved each other.

There, the Chief had to take off his armour.

It was perfect.

Now she had had to find a way to get it to work.

~0~

---

The world came back to him in a mixture of blurry colours and shapes, washing away the vivid memories and twisted dreams. As Samuel's voice faded from his mind, he felt pain washing over him as he gradually swam back to consciousness, mainly centred around his chest. He couldn't feel the familiar weight of his MJOLNIR armour, which instantly alarmed him.

Memories flooded back to his mind. The geth base, that strange humanoid girl and her mastery over magic.

The mission.

He blinked away the blurriness in his vision. Slowly, the room came into focus.

It was the Reach's medical bay. How did he -

"Chief!" Someone said.

The Spartan rolled onto his side. The pain in his chest flared in protest. He saw that he wasn't the only one in a recovery bed; he sported Draco lying on her side as well, with her back towards him. Someone else lay on the far recovery bed, but he couldn't see who it was.

Cortana tiny figure had appeared by the side of his bed, strobing with symbolic logic code.

"Cortana?" He whispered, not wanting to wake up the other patients. Mostly because his head was killing him. "What happened?"

"Ah, you're awake, good!" Someone else said. John heard footsteps rapidly approaching him and before he knew it, someone had laid their hands on him and pulled him on his back again. He was greeted by a young looking succubus wearing what looked like a nurse's hat. Chrome? "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," he answered. "Where did you get that uniform?"

"I printed it," she replied.

She…she what?

"Take it easy Chief," Cortana said. "You took quite a few hits. Back there. To ease your concerns, yes the mission was a success. Well, sort of."

The Chief didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Look into the light, please," Chrome said, shining a hideously-bright lamp into the Spartan's face. "Yeah, your brain's good as well. Fixed the damage to your organs, by the way. What's the point of having reinforced bones if your organs remain squishy, by the way? Or is that classified as well?"

"Chrome, focus, please," Cortana reminded her.

The little necromancer rolled with her eyes. "Right. You might still experience some headaches, minor discomfort in your abdomen and deliberating crippleness from black magic."

Oh yes, the Chief was wide awake now. All the strength had been drained from his muscles, so he very deliberately remained where he was, but the necromancer now had his full attention. "Explain," he demanded.

Chrome sighed. "You encountered someone with very destructive potential. It's insidious and nasty, too. I didn't think there were that powerful monsters left these days. Their attacks left a lingering aura of dark magic, like a curse."

"Chrome managed to repair most of the damage, Chief," Cortana then continued. "But apparently, she can't fix this."

"Hey!" The little succubus exclaimed. "I'll have you know that my life restoring abilities are excellent!" More timidly, she added, "You just need to be…dead…for them to work best."

Something told the Chief that the undead from Chrome's world were vastly different than the cheerful, lively Zombies of the UEG. "I'll pass," he dryly commented. "So what now?"

"This magic will linger around you, eating away at your lifeforce," Chrome explained. "It would also degrade your body, mind and soul over time, but since you rate as a Queen-class human – "

Cortana made a strange, choking sound, then swiftly covered her mouth. John and Chrome looked at her, but she simply waved for them to continue.

"I believe your body is potent enough to counteract that," the Succubus continued.

"You believe?"

She shrugged. "There's no way of predicting what happens next. So I suggest you…you know…roll with it."

The Chief wasn't sure how to react to that. She seemed serious enough, but just "rolling" with a debilitating magical curse seemed…unwise. "Can I see your medical license?" He dryly asked, closing his eyes for the moment. "How is the rest of the team?"

"They're doing well, all things considered," Chrome replied. "The girl has several of those…whaddaya call them? Gunshot wounds? But her inner structure is reinforced, so she'll be fine. The human ran into the most bloodthirsty Harpies since that Queen Harpy disappeared. Dropped him from a high distance, but I fixed his legs. He'll mostly be okay."

No KIA's. John let out a small sigh of relief. At least the mission was not a total failure.

"What Queen Harpy are you referring to, Chrome?" Cortana asked. "Historically, the powerful ones have always been peaceful."

The Chief felt Chrome cover his chest with something cold. "History doesn't teach her name anymore. She was nicknamed the "God of War" for having a talent and desire for warfare, her constant warmongering leading her race to near extinction. Then one day, she disappeared. Probably died on the battlefield…"

More history he was unfamiliar with. This "world" Chrome came from warranted some investigation, but that would have to come later.

"Any other matters I should be aware of?" The Chief asked.

"Well, there is one," Cortana said. "I've put together a report of what happened on Feros, including what we learnt about the geth, the Thorian and the possible Liminal connection to Desolas. The moment I forward those to the Council and ONI, they'll want to debrief you."

John stifled a groan. He didn't feel particularly up to another Council debrief.

"Which is why I wanted to wait," Cortana continued, aware of his plight. "With the wounds we took, Miia suggested we take a break. Get us some shore leave, regroup and maybe buy some more equipment. So I've been looking for the most roman – err, soldier-friendly resorts and – "

The armoury was already stocked. They couldn't afford to slow down, not when the fate of the galaxy rested on their shoulders. "We can't stop yet," he argued. "Desolas is still a threat."

When he later reflected on Cortana's response, John recognized the exact moment he lost that argument. It was the brief second of silence between Cortana crossing her arms and looking at him with that classic "oh really?" expression.

She brokered no argument. Derek and Draco needed to recover from their wounds, leaving two large gaps in the team's combat efficiency. Worse, they lost their only lead on Desolas with the disaster on Feros. Even Cortana had no idea where to go next.

She was right. He knew it. She knew it.

With that, Cortana granted Miia permission to temporarily take command of the Reach while he returned to his quarters. Once there, he sat on his bed, took off his helmet and ran rough, metal-plated fingers through his short fuzz of hair. He had already booted up his omni-tool to connect to the Extranet when he caught a glimpse of his weary and worn face in the mirror underneath the plasma rifle. His hand poised over his omni-tool for a moment, then slumped onto his lap.

John bowed his head, the weight of the past hours catching up to him. He lost. Plain and simple. He went up against someone he couldn't win against. And that hurt, more than he thought it would.

He just couldn't wrap his mind around what happened. He hadn't even told Cortana about it yet – mainly because he wasn't sure if it was even real.

The Underworld. Ereshkigal. The Goddess of Death. However cute she appeared, however flustered she became, there was no denying what she told him. Desolas and his people planned on messing with Forerunner technology to breach the borders between realities to harvest the life force of the dead.

It sounded utterly ridiculous and if anyone but Cortana heard him explain that, they would probably declare him insane.

And with good reason. If anyone had told him that –

A soft knock on the door shook the Spartan from his thoughts. He glanced at the door, silently hoping that this wasn't Saren. Reluctantly, he opened it.

"Hey, Chief - " Kyuri said, looking somewhat flustered. Her yellow eyes locked with his, then widened, and she uttered a little gasp. She swiftly cast her eyes downwards however, and nervously asked, "Do you…have time?"

She had changed from her improvised hardsuit to her civilian clothes. Her pale blond hair tied back with a black headband, though a couple of strands poked through. Black, clawed feet poked out from underneath her form-fitting pants, which were connected to a sleeveless, black top. She had her large, leathery wings tucked against her sides.

The Master Chief eyed her wings, curious as to how she managed to change into these clothes by herself. The flying membrane extended from her elongated index finger all the way to her lower back. It seemed impractical.

"Sure," he replied, stepping aside to let her pass.

She hesitated for a moment, before crossing the threshold and stepping into his quarters.

It occurred to the Chief that she had never seen him without his armour before. Actually, none of his crewmembers had. Miia and Draco were professional soldiers, so it was only to be expected that they could hide their emotions, but Kyuri was still a civilian. The amount of civilians who ever saw a Spartan without their MJOLNIR could be counted on one hand.

"I'm glad to see you're okay!" The Vampire blurted out as the Chief closed the door behind her. "You were hurt pretty bad. You're…not wearing your armor?"

Okay was pushing it, but the Chief appreciated the sentiment. "I'll be fine," he replied. "We'll be more prepared next time."

Kyuri glanced at the plasma rifle on the wall. Her eyes widened fractionally when she realized what it was. "Did you find what you were looking for?" She then asked without taking her eyes off it.

"…not exactly," the Chief said. He wasn't particularly keen on telling his crew that he fell through a hole in reality into the underworld and encountered a goddess who knew the Forerunners. For all he knew, not even Cortana would believe him. "We didn't find a new lead, in any case."

"Then what's next?" She said, tearing her gaze from the rifle and looking at him again. He gestured at the chair next to his desk and she sat down. "We're going after General Desolas, right?"

She didn't scared. Quite the opposite; she sounded almost eager. Again, the Chief could appreciate that, but…why? She didn't have any personal stakes in this conflict; no reason to risk life and limb to pursue someone she had no quarrel with.

It struck the Chief how little he actually knew about Kyuri. He had personally served with nearly everyone on his crew even before Desolas went rogue, and Sergeant Derek had proven to be solid. Kyuri held her own, no question about that, but at the end of the day she was still a civilian.

Civilians and Spartans weren't exactly a good combination…

"You almost sound eager?" The Chief asked. "You could have gotten hurt down there."

Kyuri cast her eyes downward. "So could everyone else," she said, giving a little shrug with her wings. "Isn't that a risk we all have to take?"

She looked up again, her eyes a lot more certain. "You are paler than I thought. You almost look like a Vampire yourself."

The Chief stifled a smirk. He supposed he could pass for an unusually-large Vampire, yes. "Do you know many Vampires yourself? I thought they were – kept to themselves."

That was close. He almost reminded Kyuri that her people were nearly extinct. Nobody wanted to hear that.

Kyuri paused, her face turning downcast. "No…I left my father because I disagreed with his…ehm…way of living. I tried to build a new life on Arcadia, but then Covenant came. And…well…"

And then Therum happened.

John wouldn't hold that against, no matter how much she blamed herself. "Your father's way of living?"

"Yes. You see, Vampires – " Kyuri stopped mid-sentence, her eyebrows furrowing as if she remembered something troubling. "Oh, wait, they like to keep that a secret…ehm, Chief, could you keep this between us? Vampire society likes to keep up the masquerade."

The Spartan cocked an eyebrow at that. There was something ironic in asking a SPARTAN-II to keep a secret for you. "Of course."

She smiled. "Thank you! Now, the last few centuries were bad for vampiric society. Because humanity grew more advanced, they became more capable of defending themselves against what they perceived as Liminal tyranny. These days, Vampires have been reduced to operating behind facades and masquerades to survive."

John carefully kept his surprise from showing. But he had to admit, the idea of a Vampire masquerade was disturbing. Kyuri was a sweet young woman, but an entire organization composed of individuals who could fly, hypnotize and create offspring merely by biting them? That was the exact sort of situation ONI would send Spartans to dismantle.

"Vampires used to rule over humans?"

Kyuri shook her head. "Not over all humans, but they held a lot of territory with a lot of subjects, for a long time. We are a long-lived race. Some Lords and Ladies were more than six centuries old, and they were absolute masters of domination. They could…ehm…"

Her cheeks flushed red, and she suddenly stopped talking. Flustered, she briefly looked away, before continuing. "Well, they had…ways…of enslaving humans and other Liminals, or keep them loyal."

"Hypnotizing other people must be useful," the Spartan mused. Could a Vampire Lord have hypnotized Covenant? The original Spartan mission of capturing a Prophet and force a peace treaty would have been much more certain, had hypnosis been an option back then.

Kyuri nervously shifted in her seat. "I don't know, I never wanted to use it," she quietly said.

John barely heard her. His mind processed the implication of a hidden society capable of such refined manipulation. For instance, was it possible for some centuries-old Vampire to have compromised people within ONI? For the Insurrection, or even for their own desires?

Kyuri's revelation just threw a wrench in his perception of the galactic power distribution. He didn't like that. "What about the war?"

"I don't know, I had already left," she admitted. "I know that there are two known social profiles for vampire society; the first is a clan society structure lead by a lone vampire who may keep a cadre of vampire slaves and…"

She paused, looking flustered again.

"And?" The Chief urged her on. Professional soldiers? Trained assassins?

The tips of her ears grew red as she muttered, "A-And possibly a mate or a…a h-harem."

A harem? The Chief had heard that somewhere before, but for the life of him he couldn't remember. "What is a harem?"

Kyuri's eyes met his and he could have sworn he saw a look of horror cross her face. "I – t-that – I's all v-v-very personal. I s-shouldn't talk about that!"

Fair enough. "That's one. You said there were two?"

Kyuri nodded. "R-Right. The second is a "vampire society" where houses of vampiric lineages called "Clans" come together to form these tight-knot, powerful "vampire societies". Often, they are ruled by a Vampire Council that oversees the society's…development and survival.'

"Like the Citadel Council?" John suggested.

"I guess? The thing is, these Vampire Councils rule behind the scenes of humanity's society. They represent only their own desires."

The Spartan nodded in understanding. "And that's why you left your father?"

Quietly, the Vampire Girl nodded back. "I can't go back to Arcadia, and I don't want to go back to father. So…please? Will you keep me with you? I…I feel like I'm doing good here."

Her voice had a pleading undertone to it. John recalled what she just hold him about Vampire society and her father. It was subtle, something he couldn't place his finger on. He wasn't going to ask Cortana, because he promised Kyuri he'd keep this a secret.

"I wasn't planning on making you leave," the Chief replied. "Sergeant Derek mentioned in his report that you were a competent spotter. If anything, we can focus there."

"S-Sergeant Derek?" Kyuri repeated, surprised. "Is he awake? Is he okay?"

"He is." And "report" was pushing it. A Prophet with a head injury would have been more coherent. "He'll be joining us for shore leave when we arrive."

Kyuri jumped to her feet fast enough that the chair almost fell over. "S-Shore leave? Where?"

"Emerald Cove, an abandoned colony recently rebuilt," the Chief calmly replied. There was something amusing about Kyuri's horrified expression, but he had to reassure her regardless. "A predominant Liminal native population, but nothing like Feros."

"More people…" she muttered, clearly ill at ease with the idea.

John could relate.

After Kyuri politely excused herself, the Chief opened his personal mission log on his omni-tool and went to the folder that contained his list of possible enemies to humanity.

A secret society of Vampires who ruled from behind the scenes? He would have never discovered that on his own. The fact that ONI never once mentioned something like that to the Spartans suggested they were still unaware.

The Insurrectionists, the Black Fang, Desolas' people, the geth, the batarians, Covenant splinter groups and now a hidden Vampire society. The UNSC had their work cut out for them…

~0~

---

The next morning in the mess hall, Miia sat slumped over the table, waiting for breakfast to fall magically onto her plate. Sitting at the table was the rest of the crew, including some of the bridge officers. Draco sat opposite of her, reading an article on a datapad. Dubbo and Stacker were trying to make some old-fashioned coffee machine work while Rachnera sat at the other end of the table, as far away from the two as possible.

They were all just tired and crestfallen. Kyuri, ironically enough, was the liveliest of all, helping Sergeant Derek cook their breakfast. She read him instructions from a cookbook while the sniper did his best not to set the whole kitchen on fire.

"A little less…little less…a lot more less…I guess that's it."

Slowly, the fire in the kitchen died down and Miia heard the sound of hot oil sizzling when something meaty got dumped into the frying pan.

Miia sighed. Just when the heat was starting go get comfortable…

Since the Reach was stocked for a crew of two-hundred, they had a lot of supplies to use. The fresh stuff was the first to go, but nobody was about to complain about that.

"Is the coffee ready yet?" Miia asked.

"Almost ma'am!" Sergeant Stacker yelled back. His reply was swiftly followed by Dubbo grunting and the sound of metal striking metal.

"I'd prefer to save coffee for in the evening," Rachnera dryly said.

"Not a coffee person?" Miia asked.

The Arachne gave her an annoyed stare. "I take it you never worked with Arachnes?"

Shrugging, Miia replied, "I did. Just…a while back. Why?"

From behind her datapad, Draco muttered, "Spiders get drunk on caffeine."

Huh. "Really? Must have been easy to smuggle your party goods in, back with your other Black Fang buddies," Miia bit at Rachnera. She still couldn't believe that the Chief would recruit a terrorist into –

Clang!

Everybody looked up at the sudden noise of glass breaking.

Glass shards lay scattered around Sergeant Derek's feet, He turned around and levelled a stare at Rachnera. "You're Black Fang?" He asked. His voice was quiet, but everybody had heard him.

Rachnera carefully put down her own glass of water/ Her six eyes blinked as she met the sniper's gaze. "I was," she calmly responded. "Is…that a problem?"

He stared at her for several long moments. There as a hint of something in his eyes that Miia couldn't quite put her finger on. Something bad.

The silence dragged on, turning from uncomfortable to something else. Then…

"Derek?" Kyuri said, tugging at the sniper's sleeve. "You're burning the bacon."

He blinked, then inhaled sharply through his nose. He looked at the Vampire with an almost startled look, before silently returning his attention back to prodding at the bacon.

Miis, Draco and Rachnera exchanged a look. The Lieutenant wasn't sure what to say. She would definitely be more careful about how she spoke in the future. This wasn't the Marine Corps anymore.

The Dragon sniffed the air and pulled a face. "That stinks," she muttered.

"I have some bad memories about smells like that," Private Dubbo commented. "Aren't there any air fans to extract that?"

"This is where we crack the eggs over the rest," Kyuri said. "Why do we have so many eggs?"

Miia felt like she had some explaining to do, but she felt too tired to open her mouth for anything but food.

As the eggs and bacon sizzled in the frying pan, she looked at Sergeant Derek's back. He still walked funny, but the little Necromancer had done a fabulous job mending his broken bones.

Getting dropped from such a distance by a bunch of angry Harpies was a horrible thought; one that would never occur to anyone who was used to working with the scatter-brained species. A Harpy was many things, but malicious? No way.

She heard Kyuri had been furious, but she was surprised how casual Derek seemed about the whole deal. And yet, the look he had on his face when he heard where they recruited Rachnera from was everything but casual.

Draco didn't as much as blink during that weird confrontation. Whatever she was reading must be fascinating to keep her so preoccupied.

Miia got up from the table, took a look at the eggs to see if the sniper-spotter pair was making any progress, then glanced over Draco's shoulder.

"Heavy fighting on Horizon continues...oh sweetheart, why do you even keep up with stuff like that? You'll only end up hurting yourself."

"I don't care," Draco bit back. "I just…need to know this."

The batarian assault on Horizon had grinded to a halt the last few days when Citadel reinforcements finally arrived. Word was, it was hell down there. Heavy losses on all sides. The only reason the UNSC hadn't lost the colony was the quick reaction force sent there by Kuromorimine. Well, that and the utter brilliance of the two Generals overseeing said reaction force.

"We'll kick those monsters off our planet," Miia assured her. It was the only thing she could do, really. "Just you wait. The UNSC is still strong/"

"We should be there instead of chasing after some pissy alien fuck," Draco growled. Her free hand slowly clenched into a fist.

"I don't know what difference that would make," Miia said. "The batarians can't defeat the UNSC strategically. They just don't have the logistics."

"But they have the numbers. They just keep coming so we have to keep killing."

Rachnera looked on in mild confusion, although her expression turned cynical very quickly. "The batarians? If the UNSC is "still strong", then why haven't they beaten the batarians already? Those guys are a joke. Just pirates and – "

Dracosa slammed her fist against the table and jumped to her feet. In one violent gesture, she shoved the entire dining table aside and leered at Rachnera, her expression downright murderous. It happened so fast, so suddenly that Miia felt legitimately frightened.

Rachnera backed away, her red eyes widening in shock. Miia had instinctively backed away as well, trying to maximize her distance from the scene as it unfolded.

Miia could interfere. If this turned ugly and violent, she could interfere. But that would only make things worse; Draco would never forgive her for laying her hands on her. Things might even escalate.

In the kitchen, she saw Derek pulling Kyuri behind him while Stacker and Dubbo leapt to their feet as well.

Then out of nowhere, he was there. Clad in his imposing and impervious armour, the Master Chief stood in the mess hall. He took in the situation in what had to be a split-second, then calmly approached the two very dangerous Liminals.

"Draco," he barked, his voice hard and filled with authority. Even Draco, notorious for not giving much if a damn at the worst moments, flinched and looked his way.

"I need your help with something," the Chief then said in a calmer, almost reassuring tone. "Come with me."

His voice must have confused Draco a little, if the head tilt was any indication. Her tail slowly moved from the left to the right, occasionally twitching as Draco – hopefully – struggled to remain calm.

She slowly unclenched her fists and stepped towards the Master Chief. Together, the two of them disappeared down the hall.

Miia realized that she had been holding her breath and quietly exhaled. Her heart felt like an MA5B on full auto.

"What the fuck!" She hissed. Of all the things to trigger the hatred festering within Draco's heart, it had to be the goddamn batarians. And those bastards weren't even around!

The Lieutenant whirled on Rachnera, furious. "What was that about? Why do you always have to push people like that?"

"I didn't know she would freak out like that," the Arachne replied. She shrugged and tried to look nonplussed, but she couldn't quite manage. "I suppose I wanted to see that it wasn't all an act. Humans always put up a false front, pretending to be something they're not. And those who associate with them tend to be the same," she sneered.

Miia scowled, taking a good look at the Arachne. "I don't know where you're from, or what you've been through. But don't you think for one second that you're the only one who had it bad. Out here, everybody has their scars, their traumas. Humans, Liminals, it doesn't matter! The War broke us all, fucked us all! You don't know them, so don't judge them!"

For a moment there, Rachnera looked vulnerable. Like Miia just slapped her in the face. Even when she huffed and stubbornly averted her gaze, her expression seemed forced. 'Like I care. I'm...not here to make friends anyway. You need my expertise, right? That's all you'll get."

Miia didn't feel like replying to that one. Maybe it was for the better when Rachnera left as well. Of course her kind wouldn't understand. They never did. All those extremists could think about was their own cause.

"...so would you like some salt with your eggs?" Sergeant Derek then deadpanned.

~0~

---

Rachnera's legs automatically carried her towards her room. Her clawed hands shook as she pulled the door open, then flung it shut behind her.

"Fuck," she swore, dropping down in her makeshift hammock and uttering an explosive sigh. That did not go the way she thought it would.

With the UNSC was all around her - everywhere she went, everywhere she looked - her patience just snapped. The kind of patriotic posturing about that incompetent junta…there mere thought was enough to infuriate her.

Where had the heroic, valiant UNSC been when the Templars burned Irbid to the ground? Their fleet just sat there, waiting until the Templars were gone…and for what? Strategies? Politics?

But, loathe as she was to admit it, these people were more than just their affiliation with the UNSC. There was more to something than just its parts, the saying went. Or something like that. And there was nothing fake about that girl's reaction. Rachnera had never seen someone lose themselves quite like that, and she had dealt with a lot of hotheads in her life. All she meant to do was poke holes in the notion that the UNSC had any strength left. The girl's response to the batarian part of her argument just…blindsided her.

Rachnera rolled around in her hammock, trying to find a more comfortable position. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.

The Black Fang occasionally worked with pirates and mercenaries, yes. Just to get the equipment and funding they needed. Obviously, those pirates and mercenaries had to be alien. And you couldn't commit yourself to dirty business with aliens and not encounter the batarians.

It was a necessary evil, really. These days, the only voices that could be heard were those who forced others to listen. They hadn't survived the long arm of imperial Earth and the Templars by playing nice!

So what if the pirates were batarians or turian? It was their merchandise that counted, not their species. As for the slavery part…well, Rachnera never dabbled with trafficking rings. People weren't merchandise and there were some lines even she wasn't willing to cross.

So was that it? A batarian raid gone wrong? Or was there something more insidious here?

Rachnera looked down at her chitin-covered hands. Maybe that Lamia was right. It wasn't hard to imagine to imagine the horrors of the War. That was one of those lines she didn't like to cross, either. Most of her more extreme associates would disagree, but Rachnera wouldn't have pushed the uptight dragon girl if it involved the Covenant.

The Arachne tightened her grip on her folded arms. Twice she misjudged someone here already! Twice! This wasn't like her!

The Lieutenant was a naïve airhead, the Dragon Girl had some serious issues and those two Marines were idiots, but there was nothing fake about them. But that other soldier, Derek, was definitely hiding something.

Just like the Master Chief, in fact. Both of them were different, both of them were undoubtedly faking something.

If there was one thing Rachnera hated, even more than humans, it was fakes.

~0~

---

Anger issues. A problem that wasn't exactly rare amongst surviving soldiers. The Master Chief had struggled with his own bouts of frustration threatening to manifest in violence. He could still taste the rage that had coursed through him when he turned Grace's body around on the Unyielding Hierophant, where the Brutes had blown her midsection apart with those high-velocity grenade launchers of theirs. The blind, violent hatred that, for a split-second, played out the terrible things that he was going to do them. The Brutes. The Covenant. All of them.

But such hate was a sickening feeling. A paralyzing emotion. If you gave in to anger, it would consume you, eat you out until there was nothing left.

Above all, John knew that anger was ultimately another form of helplesless. An absence of control. And when Grace died, he needed all of his skills, all of his control, to keep going. Anger hadn't provided that.

And that was why he couldn't be upset with Draco, even though she had been about to assault her own teammate. He wanted to help her, and being strict with her wasn't going to help at all.

The Dragon silently followed him as he led her towards the Reach's gym. One look into those sapphire eyes had told him everything he needed to know. She knew what she did was wrong and now, she thought she was in trouble.

She didn't protest or try to make excuses, which the Master Chief appreciated. That left him free to focus on the true problem.

The metal doors to the gym slid open soundlessly, and the Chief entered first.

The sight was impressive. There were free weights, punching and speed bags, machines to stretch and tone every muscle group of every Liminal species and even a sizeable swimming pool. He saw treadmills tailored to Lamia and Centaur needs, automated drones that could be programed with different martial arts and even run by AI's.

But above all, there was a boxing ring.

Some people preached that violence was never the answer. Though he would never phrase it like that, the Master Chief believed those people were idiots. He couldn't think of a situation that could not be solved with violence, albeit in the right form, proportion and with guidance.

Guidance, he thought, was what Draco needed the most right now.

"You seem a little on edge," the Master Chief commented as Draco followed him in. "Rachnera get under your skin?"

She frowned and scoffed. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"No," he agreed. "She doesn't." He went to the boxing ring and slipped through the ropes. "Did you tell her?"

"No."

"Then how can she know?"

Draco didn't reply to that. Clad in sweatpants and a tank top, her chagrined expression had something amusing.

The Chief beckoned her over. "You can't take out your anger on your team. You know that."

"…I'm not cut out to be here," she said out of the blue. "This team."

"…come again?"

She turned away from him, levelling a glare at the nearest punching bag.

The Spartan stared at her for a few moments, before reaching for his helmet and undoing the seal. He quietly placed his helmet on the ground, taking a moment to properly put his thoughts into words. "Anderson took you in the Marine Corps. He thought you would make a fine soldier. Do you think he was wrong?"

She wordlessly shook her head, then levelled a glare at the Chief. In that brief moment, before she narrowed her eyes and forced herself to soften it, he saw the same anger and hatred that he had seen in the eyes of the Brutes and Elites he fought. On Torfan, it must have been the last sight for dozens of batarians, and in that moment, she looked at him like he was one.

"A soldier? Wake up! We're like animals! It's in the blood! It's natural! I kill like I breathe, it's not easy, it's automatic! When the killing stops here, I wait, it starts there, and that's okay, 'cause it's the only thing I want! The only thing I know for real."

As she talked, her voice grew louder and raspier, until she was almost screaming.

John let her. Maybe he couldn't provide her what she needed. Maybe nothing could. But he wanted to help her.

"Come on," he said, keeping his voice calm and neutral. "Join me."

She didn't hesitate this time. Her body rippled with tension and now that she had given in to emotions, she couldn't simply pull out again. That was how Dragons were.

And, John suspected, how many soldiers were.

She pushed through the ropes and rolled her shoulders, stretching. Her toned body looked deceptively lithe. The rippling muscle underneath her pale skin and green scales could tear apart any opponent – as many a Brute and krogan had discovered to their dismay.

The Chief lowered his shoulders and raised his fists. He had disabled his shields before removing his helmet, although he had little doubt she could have pounded his shields flat if she really wanted to.

She swung a right hook at his face, which he easily blocked with his forearm. He then landed a soft jab against her arm instead of her stomach, letting her know she left her guard down.

She…didn't notice the hint. She attempted several more punches – all of which he dodged – before trying to sweep his legs out from underneath him.

No small feat for someone her size. But, no matter how strong she was, the Chief was faster – and he suspected that his techniques were an order of magnitude above hers. He sidestepped and lowered his centre of mass to keep his balance.

"Sloppy," he chastised her. "Use your head. Keep calm."

John went on the offensive, coming at her with a left hook, which she redirected, then a right hook in her side just where her kidney would be. She growled and shook it off.

"You're wide open."

They went back and forth for a couple of minutes. Draco was constantly on the offensive, circling him like an eager predator, but quick and agile on her feet. The Chief landed several hits on her, intending to hurt, but not harm, her for the mistakes she made.

He saw another opening and took it, aiming a jab at her jaw. Draco managed to duck underneath it and jammed her shoulder against his abdomen. She had more momentum and force behind her than the Chief anticipated – it was like being tackled by an Elite – and down he went.

His back smacked against the floor and Draco lay on top of him, her face mere inches from his, her hot body pressed against his.

Two seconds ticked by, but to the Chief it felt like an eternity. Had she been anyone else, his immediate response would have been to hook his legs around her and flip her over in turn, before immediately moving to execute an arm-lock.

But for some reason, that didn't occur to him. His instinct seemed to have drawn the conclusion that continuing to lie there on the ground with Draco on top of him was a better alternative than to win.

Unacceptable.

He scoffed, then executed the manoeuvre nonetheless. Draco smacked to the ground with an audible gasp, and he straddled her to keep her pinned.

There. Better.

…the moment of satisfaction didn't come.

"I think that's enough for today," he told her. "How do you feel?"

Her cheeks were still red, but he didn't think she was that angry anymore. "Better," she quietly admitted, though she did avert her eyes in an agitated manner. "But I don't see how – "

"If you feel frustrated or angry, come find me," he said, climbing up off the Dragon and extending his hand.

After a moment of hesitation, she took it and he helped her back to her feet. Their hands lingered for a moment, then she angrily pulled her hand back, blushing again.

"Fine," she growled.

John nodded at her, then went to don his helmet again. He checked the time and realized that he had better get a move on; he still had some things he wanted to check out before the Reach reached her destination.

As he turned to leave, however, he heard Draco mutter, "Thank you."

He looked at her over his shoulder, nodded, then left the gym.

"So, did you two have fun?" Cortana suddenly chimed in as he stepped in the elevator.

"Were you watching?"

"I have a network of cameras and speakers installed in every room. Of course I was watching. Assume I am always watching."

"Then you saw what happened in the mess hall."

"I did. It was telling, wasn't it?"

The Spartan continued to his personal quarters, trying to gather his thoughts in a way that made sense. "I get her. I don't get many people, but I get…her. And I want to help."

"Of course you do, you big, armoured softy. You just don't know how."

"What should I do?" He asked. "How do I…"

Cortana sighed. "For what it's worth, I think you did fine. Sometimes, women don't want to hear what they "should" do. Sometimes they just want someone to talk to. Or, you know, beat up."

That almost got him to crack a smile. He undid the lock to his room, closed the door behind him and stepped to the engineering pod.

As Cortana took control over its many mechanical arms and instruments, she suddenly asked, "Did you see how Sergeant Derek responded?"

"I think he contained the fire well enough."

"Not that," Cortana snapped. "Rachnera. When she said she was part of the Black Fang, that almost seemed to trigger him."

Great. More cause for tension in his already-malfunctioning team. "Do you think they have a history together?"

"His file is covered in some serious black ink. Even I can't crack the redacted and expunged parts."

"ONI must have upped their malware protection."

"Har har," Cortana bit at him. "Just hook me up to an ONI database and I'll find out."

John sighed as the machine undid the outer plates of his MJOLNIR. "One problem at a time. Do you think they'll be an issue?"

"Honestly? No. He seemed to drop it and Rachnera wasn't particularly eager to push his buttons after that. Strange, considering pushing buttons must be a fetish for her or something…"

"I don't know what that means."

"You will, in due time."

That didn't reassure all.

Finally, the machine had stripped him of his suit and arranged the parts in such a way that refitting him would only take a few minutes.

The Master Chief, still having time to kill, grabbed a few hours of sleep before confronting the next hurdle in the parade of constant obstacles.

Namely, deciding what to wear on shore leave.

…he didn't even have civilian clothing. Cargo pants. A plain shirt. A stack of grey underwear and black socks. Would that be enough? He would be going in without his MJOLNIR, without weapons. People would be staring. He would be exposed.

Vulnerable.

He didn't like it one bit.

When Captain Keyes announced that they were about to transit from Slipspace, the Master Chief made his way towards the main hangar bay, where Miia asked everyone to meet up.

Perhaps Ereshkigal was still watching over him, because he did not encounter Saren on his way to the meeting point. He was already there, along with all the others, clad in what turians took to be "casual" clothes.

He could see the outline of a handgun at Saren's hip. He didn't comment. As for the others…

The Chief knew that soldiers liked to prepare for shore leave in their own way. They'd dress up in ways that often emphasized their muscles, scars or medals. And while Dubbo and Stacker had gone for the tight-fitting shirts with short pants, Draco had gone for a high-collared shirt with a light coat thrown over it. It seemed tailor-made, as it perfectly hid her wings and had enough room for her tail to poke through.

Classy, the Chief thought, although he wondered if that outfit wasn't a bit too warm for Emerald Cove's weather.

Kyuri's civilian clothing was the same as her shipboard one, which definitely wasn't too warm for the local weather. Miia, however, had gone for something different. She was clad in a white top patterned with black flowers and a blue skirt with a brown belt. She carried a small bag on one arm, while carrying her luggage case with the other.

John had never been one to look at his fellow soldiers in that way, but he had to admit that Miia was very pretty. The way her skirt tightly hugged her serpentine body was especially transfixing. The way her clothing clung to her scales and motion…

He found himself staring and quickly averted his eyes. He did not miss how his teammates looked at him, however. Barring Kyuri and Draco, he believed this was their first time seeing him without his helmet, and it showed.

A mixture of surprise and confusion seeped into their expressions, though Draco's was by far the most subdued, and Rachnera's by far the most overt.

"My my, look at that," the Arachne said with a sly grin. "All exposed without that suit. It's about time; it looks like you could use some sun."

Her playful look slowly changed into one of…what, suspicion? "You could really use some sun. Just how long have you been wearing that armour, anyway?"

"Looks like we're gonna need some more sunscreen!"

Sergeant Stacker had appeared out of nowhere, carrying a large amount of civilian health products and sunglasses in his arms. He struck a bizarre image, but John was grateful for his sudden entrance. Without his armour and weapons, he felt vulnerable. Exposed. Naked. Rachnera's extravert personality left him feeling a deep sense of unease.

"I got the sunscreen, Peter," William Derek yelled back, rounding the corner with two large, black backpacks. He wore a blue floral-tinted shirt that clashed hideously with his black shorts, which left his calves all exposed. A jungle hat of all things rested atop his head. "It's right next to the tweezers."

"Tweezers?" Kyuri muttered. "What for?"

"Hey Chips, belay the sunscreen, William's got them!"

"Got it Sarge!" Dubbo's voice sounded from somewhere in the ship. "I'm coming up!"

The modified Pelican dropship could comfortably seat six humans and four "normal-sized" Liminals. Luggage included. Kyuri was small enough that she didn't experience any difficulties, whereas Dracosa barely managed to fit, what with her tail and wings. They, along with Derek, Stacker, Dubbo and Saren were seated in one of the chairs.

An additional ten humans or "normal-sized" Liminals could fit in the center of the Pelican, as long as they held on to the bars attached to the ceiling. Miia and Rachnera, both of whom were much too large to qualify as "normal-sized", were stuck in the middle.

The Master Chief didn't think they would experience any difficulties though. The ride down to Emerald Cove would be fairly turbulence-free, provided Foehammer didn't do any acrobatics.

He could not remember the last time he rode in a dropship without wearing his MJOLNIR. He felt naked. Exposed. The ride down was quiet, but the occasional concerned glance shot his way by his crew didn't help his unease. He caught Miia staring at him, then looking away when he noticed her, embarrassed. Draco glared at her for some reason, while Kyuri was too immersed in her omni-tool to notice.

Derek sat sandwiched between Kyuri and Saren, closer to Miia and Rachnera than anyone else. He looked more uncomfortable than the Chief had ever seen him before. He kept bouncing his knee and occasionally wrung his hands together.

The Chief also noticed how the man occasionally curled the index finger of his dominant hand. A strange tic. He wondered what was up with that.

"I can't believe how fast Emerald Cove recovered!" Kyuri suddenly said, looking up from the holographic display. "It hasn't even been ten years!"

"Well, the Covenant simply destroyed the infrastructure and moved on," Miia pointed out. "They didn't bother glassing it."

"It says here the turians helped evacuate when the Covenant came close," Kyuri said. "Why did they decline the humans asking them to come live with them?"

Rachnera, having opened the same traveling guide as Kyuri, groaned. "Is it because of the moon? It is, isn't it?" Her crimson eyes settled on the Chief, who could have sworn Rachnera sized him up before continuing. "Who would have thought that the great Master Chief was such a pervert?"

John cocked an eyebrow at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, looking equally confused.

Rachnera grinned. "Seriously? Neither of you know? Never been around Liminals during a full moon?"

"It's an instinct thing," Miia quickly said. "When a full moon shines, all demi-humans are filled with an…ehm… need."

The Chief glanced at her, wary. "For what?"

Rachnera remained ominously silent, but her silent chuckling did not spell anything good.

Saren sighed and opened his eyes. "Liminal species under a full moon are driven by an intense need to harm others in their purity."

"Wow, that actually sounds poetic ," a seriously-blushing Kyuri mumbled.

John didn't get it. He could only imagine one "purity" related matter, but this might be one of those "sayings" the Spartans loathed so much. "You mean getting people dirty?"

"Please Spartan, I would not want to see you blush," Saren said. "Let us just say that you have a very high number of deflowerings taking place."

Deflowering? As in the defoliant chemicals? No, that couldn't be it. "I don't understand,"

"Oh for crying out loud – John, it's fraternization, alright?" Cortana said out loud from his speakers. "Liminals under a full moon are driven by a need to fraternize."

Oh. Ab. Like that.

John wasn't an idiot. When the Spartans underwent their accelerated puberty, it caused all kinds of awkward situations. Chief Mendez had been forced to schedule sexual education during training and he had been none too pleased about it.

But a sexual education given by Chief Mendez more than thirty years ago was better than no sexual education at all. John realized the situation: consent and sexuality.

"Mingling with the locals is acceptable, but no means no," he sternly said. "If anyone bothers you, you are cleared for a physical rebuff."

It was silent for a few seconds, before Miia and Rachnera exchanged a look.

"John," Cortana said through a private channel. "Half your crew is composed of Liminals. They don't need protection. The humans do."

The Chief considered that, before deciding the risks weren't that great. They were all veteran soldiers here, they knew how to protect themselves if the civilians got…frisky.

There was a slight lurch, then Foehammer's voice echoed through the cabin. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Echo Airlines. We have just cleared Emerald Cove's atmosphere. Local time is somewhere in the evening and the sun is just setting. We'll be reaching New Barbados in just a few minutes. Destination: Bridgetown."

Foehammer took the Pelican down below the clouds, full speed ahead. She'd be returning to the Reach once more to pick up Captain Keyes and the rest of the bridge crew. John didn't know what would happen afterwards; Miia had planned everything in advance and for once, it felt good to just let go and let someone else take over. He had spent the most harrowing fights of his life on his own. To feel comfortable leading this team…he wouldn't know where to begin.

What he witnessed during the penultimate month of the war was his alone to deal with.

The Pelican eventually touched down on the landing pad. Everyone except for Rawley disembarked onto the pad Miia had rented. True to Foehammer's words, the sun was just starting to set. One half of the sky was turning a hue of twilight blue, while the other half was an exotic red.

John couldn't see the moon, but Cortana informed him that it wouldn't be full moon until another two nights. "

"Where are we staying tonight?" Dubbo asked.

"I rent a series of luxury apartments not too far from here, at the South-West of the island," Miia responded. "Not too far from the beach and the best mixture of privacy and amenities they had to offer for a reasonable price."

"How far do we need to walk?" Rachnera asked, lifting her baggage. "Because I'm not the marching type."

Miia shrugged. "Maybe half a mile?"

Rachnera rolled her eyes.

Luggage or no luggage, there was something soothing about the environment. The trees blew in the gentle breeze and the sound of the waves tickled the Chief's hearing. The short trip from the landing pad to the apartment complex took them past what looked like the entrance to a park, with two rows of large trees flanking a dirt road.

In fact, this entire island seemed to have an abundance of trees, shrubs and yards, offering solitude and semi-decent cover if needed.

There were plenty of people around. Most of them were Liminals, but there were plenty of humans as well. The occasional turian and asari could be seen, easily and happily blending in with the local population. It seemed to serene.

He didn't know what to do with serenity.

Normally, the Chief didn't feel that uncomfortable around civilians. But now, without his suit to protect him, he couldn't shake his unease. He kept his head on a swivel, carefully avoiding eye contact as he made sure none of the civilians made any hostile moves.

"Chief?" Miia asked after a minute. "You okay?"

John blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Ah, it's just…" she glanced at the others to see if they could hear, then quietly continued. "You keep checking for pursuers, lingering on people who happen to be nearby... you almost seem nervous."

John blinked, then looked at Dubbo and Stacker. They were eagerly chatting away about the drinks they were going to order.

Draco listened to a story told by Kyuri about an aquarium nearby. Rachnera's eyes darted to a lingerie shop. Derek was lost in his thoughts. Occasionally he steered from the pavement and Stacker would reach out, grab his shoulder and pull him back again before he could collide with something.

John forced a slow, silent breath out. "I…"

Was he truly the only one troubled by a peaceful environment? He felt a pang of unease. What did that say about him?

"I just haven't been without my armour for a long time," he finally admitted. "It's different."

"I think you just need to unwind!" Miia said. "Once we got our rooms and dumped our luggage, we should go out for a drink, or, you know…something like that?.."

"…sure, why not," the Chief found himself agreeing. He wasn't quite sure why. He knew for a fact that, had it been Sergeant Stacker or one of Keyes' bridge crew asking him, he would have declined without a second thought.

A couple of minutes later, the shore party reached the residential area for the tourists. The road took them past a clear, blue river flanked by what looked like Earth palm trees, but bigger. The road eventually curved to the right, past a couple of other apartments, shops and businesses, until finally the tourist complex came within view.

A series of hotels, apartments, open restaurants and admittedly beautiful swimming pools, connected by small gravel paths and small fields of perfectly-kept grass. It was surrounded on all sides by a white wall, a foot thick and easily six feet high. It didn't look like it was designed to actually keep people out, but more to give the impression of safety. John could appreciate that.

Miia took them to the lobby; this well-decorated, pristine room with red furniture, square tables and a whole assortment of souvenirs.

As the Lamia headed to the receptionist, the rest of the team sat down. Within the broadest possible definition of "sitting" and "down" possible; Rachnera casually claimed an entire couch as her own, while Draco swept one of the tables clean with her tail and sat down there.

Saren chose the nearest possible wall, planted his back to it and pulled a magazine in front of his face.

The Master Chief stopped in front of a map of the complex and looked at it. He pinpointed his current location, destination and calculated the best route –

What was he doing? This wasn't a war zone. He was lapsing into old habits, going through objectives and calculating possibilities.

He tore his gaze away from the wall-mounted map and tried to concentrate on something else. Anything else.

After a couple of moments, Miia thanked the receptionist and returned to the group. "Now, before I sign us in, you should know that we're using civilian names," she said. "For privacy reasons, but also because we need to distance ourselves from the mission."

The Chief tensed up when he heard that. He didn't want to announce his presence for the entire city, but neither was he going to just enter his name for a civilian system.

"That's William Derek, Rachnera Arachnera, Kyuri Drakulya, Dracosa Victorias, Saren Arterius, Peter Stacker and Chips Dubbo," she quickly summed up, before looking expectantly at the Chief.

Said Chief crossed his arms in defiance. "No."

"Come on Chief, we can't just call you by your rank the entire stay!" Miia protested, pouting.

"Not going to happen."

"Can't Cortana just hack into the system and come up with a pseudonym?" Kyuri pointed out.

John's thoughts exactly.

"I'm not military," Rachnera pointed out with a wicked smirk. "But when someone calls you "Master", I don't want the very next word to be "Chief"."

Saren's eyes peeked over the edge of the magazine.

"I don't get it?" Chips said.

"You're too young for any of that, son," Stacker replied.

The Spartan rolled his eyes.

Miia sighed, likely realizing that she would never win this argument. "How about this? While on shore leave, Cortana can just enter a pseudonym for you, and we'll call you whatever you – or we – want to."

"That is acceptable."

After Miia took care of the administrative matters, she led the crew to what would be their living quarters for the coming period. It was a series of vacation apartments on the ground floor. They were larger and roomier than any accommodations the Chief had ever slept in before, with up to four large beds per apartment. They had too many windows for his liking, though. The furniture was reinforced to be used by Liminals and the ceiling was high and filled with crisscrossing bars and nets to accommodate Arachnes and Harpies and the like.

John wouldn't complain. He dumped his baggage on the first bed he saw.

"We will have to share rooms," Miia said upon unlocking the second apartment. "And there's only one bathroom per apartment, so…that might be a problem."

She inched closer to John.

Draco saw that. She growled at the Lamia, who hissed at her in return.

"Not getting close to that," Rachnera commented. "I might lose a finger…"

"We'll make it work," the Chief replied. He personally didn't mind sharing a room with one of his crewmembers. As long as it wasn't Saren, of course.

"I got dibs on the corner room!" Chips yelled, snatching a key out of Miia's hand and darting towards the far room at the end of the hallway.

"I'll keep an eye on him. Don't you worry Chief, I won't disturb your plans," Stacker said, winking at the Spartan before rushing after the young Private.

His…his plans?

"That settles it. Guess I'll have to share a room with the Ch – ehm…guess I'll share a room with my darling," Miia said, happily throwing her luggage next to John's.

He raised an eyebrow at that nickname. It made a certain kind of sense to go with a civilian phrase like that, but…why darling of all things?

"That's bullshit!" Draco exclaimed. "You don't get to claim him like that!"

"I believe I just did," Miia retorted, grabbing the Chief's left arm and clinging to it like it was a lifeline.

Draco glared at the Lamia for a couple of seconds, before throwing her luggage into the Chief's room as well.

"This is my cue to leave, before you get territorial," Saren remarked, hurrying after Chips and Stacker.

Miia blinked several times, before her eyes narrowed.

John saw how thunderous her expression became and quickly said, "There are four beds. There is room for both of you and someone else too."

Derek quickly snatched the last key from Miia's hand. "No thank you. See you later."

"Well, there goes one fantasy," Miia softly muttered to herself as the sniper ran off with one of their room keys. "Guess we'll – "

Rachnera tossed her own luggage into the Chief's room as well, smiling wickedly as she did. "Well, since you're offering, I'll gladly take the last spot."

"Eh? Eeh?"

Both scaled ladies stared in horror at Rachnera, who merely shrugged. "What? There's one spot left. You said it yourself, didn't you, honey?"

With that, she placed her plated hand on John's shoulder and leant into him, resting her considerable cleavage against his back.

Somehow, Rachnera calling him that was a thousand times more threatening than Miia's nickname. It made darling sound perfectly agreeable.

"Hands off!" Draco hissed, angrily lunging forward to grab John's other arm.

"What happened to being a part of the team?" Rachnera taunted.

"You can go suck my d – "

"There is room for you, yes," John commented, pulling away from his eager teammates. He had promised Cortana he would give the Arachne a chance and thus far, she had not given him any reason to distrust her. "Kyuri? Where will you be staying?"

The diminutive Vampire seemed surprised to be asked that. She was thoughtful for a couple of seconds, before shrugging. "If your room is full, I guess I'll sleep in Derek's room?"

John could agree with that. William Derek had kept Kyuri safe on Feros, and the two had some synergy together. Since this was a civilian resort, Kyuri could watch the sniper in case anything "funny" happened.

"Then that's that!" Miia proclaimed. "We've checked in, dumped our kit, now it's finally time for some fun!"

John frowned. Fun. Fun. Soldiers did that on shore leave, yes. He had heard wild tales of alcohol induced idiocy. His stomach churned at the mere thought.

"We could hit the beach?" Miia suggested. "Go for a nightly dip?"

"I don't have any bathing suits," Kyuri meekly pointed out. "And I don't think Rachnera does, either."

Neither did John, for that matter.

"Why not go out for drinks, explore the island a bit?" Rachnera said with a shrug.

Exploring the island didn't sound all that bad. They needed an emergency rendezvous point and knowledge of the city's channelling points –

John stopped that line of thinking, taking a deep breath and trying to concentrate on something else.

Miia sighed. "How about this? We take the evening to explore the town and look for things to do in the coming days. Then tomorrow, we start pitching ideas."

It was a reasonable suggestion. Nobody disagreed. Or maybe nobody wanted to bother to disagree.

When Miia went to get Stacker and Dubbo, they were already gone. With the possible exception of Kyuri and Rachnera, who were not familiar with the Marine brain, nobody was surprised.

"What are you doing?" Miia asked, peeking around the edge of Sergeant Derek's room. "What – why are you packing your closet?"

John heard the sniper respond. Words that were painfully genuine and honestly confused.

"Because I've got things?"

Miia didn't get it, but he did. For the first time in what could have been years, the man had things, and he wanted to take care of them, cherish them before someone came and took it all away again.

Normalcy.

"Well, you can take care of that tomorrow," Miia said, her voice dripping with irritation. "Tonight, we're going out."

Cities built for tourism were strange. The people lived above their shops, on the first floor. A single street could have as many as five cafes competing with each other. Steak houses on every corner. And civilians walking around like ants on a forest floor, everywhere he looked.

The majority were humans and Liminals. But there were aliens, too. Mostly turians, but there were a couple of asari too. A place that offered something called "snooker", ran by a salarian.

But nobody stared. This was the first time he had gone in public without his armour, and nobody did as much as glance at him.

His unease slowly began to diminish. He wondered, just for a moment, how Arbiter would have fared a situation like this. Well outside of his comfort zone, stuck in a role where politics were more important than strategy…

"Come on!" Miia eventually said, grabbing a hold of his hand to pull him towards a little restaurant with a terrace in front. It was less crowded than the others, but not by much. "Let's go for a drink!"

"A drink?" Kyuri muttered as the group veered off towards a collection of tables, hammocks and chairs within the corner of the terrace. "B-but…"

"What does a Vampire drink, anyway?" Rachnera asked. "Should we be worrying about nightly visits?"

"N-no," Kyuri replied, flustered. "Any liquid will do. Blood just has the most nourishment."

"Why liquid?" John asked. He picked a seat that would allow him to keep a close eye on the activity in the street.

"Vampires have an…underdeveloped digestive system," Kyuri replied. "We can mostly handle liquid food, with some exceptions."

That sounded rough. Soldiers could burn through an enormous amount of calories in a short amount of time. A diet composed of liquids just didn't cut it.

After the intense fighting on Feros, shouldn't Kyuri be starving?

"The logistics behind that must be a pain in the ass," Miia commented. "How does that work?"

The answer must be complicated, as Kyuri's body language became that of horror and embarrassment. Much like when she mentioned the "harem". `

"M-My people own several bio-industries that w-work with artificial blood," she stammered. "But…most p-prefer the real thing."

At that moment, a teenage girl with short, black hair came by to take their orders. She looked as uncomfortable as John felt, and her gaze noticeably lingered on his and Derek's scars as she waited for their pick.

"I'll take a Sumerian droplet, please," Miia said with a smile.

"A glass of Sedran red," Rachnera said.

Derek went for alcohol-free beer – which the Chief didn't even know was an option – and Kyuri politely declined any drinks. He himself simply settled for a glass of water, as did Draco.

"Are you three serious?" Miia hissed the moment the waitress was outside hearing range. "We're on shore leave! Vacation! That means drinking, partying and having fun!"

"I'm not sure they even know how to have fun," Rachnera sighed as she lazily hung in the hammock. "And here I thought turians were bad…"

Partying. Fun. His last time on Emerald Cove was a distant memory, but a sharp one nonetheless. Baking clams on a white beach with his fellow Spartans, surfing and laughing…

"I'm pacing myself," Derek replied. "Marines on shore leave tend to have a pattern and I don't want to catch too much attention. Then again, if Kyuri prefers the real thing…"

"Thinking about picking a fight?" Draco said.

"…not particularly, no?"

"What, scared?"

He took a sip from his beer. "Maybe there are better ways to get fresh blood than to beat it out of someone?"

Draco looked legitimately puzzled at that. "What, with your claws?"

"Hmm. I don't have those."

"Then use a knife. I could use a handicap."

"Please don't spill blood for me," Kyuri sputtered. "That's really not necessary."

John leant back in his chair. The last time any of the Spartans got into fight was when they were eleven.

"Instead of clobbering each other like barbarians, can't you just let her bite you consensually?" Rachnera pointed out.

If Kyuri's horrified expression was anything to go by, that wasn't an option. "No!" She exclaimed. "I can't – that's not – !"

Actually, John didn't see a problem with that. The Vampire virus wasn't potent enough to infect humans just like that, and he was certain that Cortana could synthesize an antidote should the need arise.

"Until the Reach can stock up on blood, there is no other option," he said. "We'll discuss this tonight."

Not that there was anything to discuss. This was the wellbeing of his teammate, which meant that the responsibility was his. Besides; he was a Spartan If anyone could resist the side-effects of being bitten by a Vampire, it was him.

The waitress eventually came back with their drinks. John thought about ordering something besides water, but when the moment came to speak up, he couldn't bring himself to.

Tomorrow is another day, he thought.

"How are the legs, Will?" Miia asked as soon as the waitress was outside of hearing range again.

"Not so broken anymore. Chrome's a real lifesaver. Imagine having to walk around on crutches again."

"What, again?" Draco asked.

Derek took a sip of his beer. "Not nearly drunk enough for that story."

"Fair enough."

"So, darling," Miia then said, directing her gaze to the Chief again ."Why don't you tell us something about yourself?"

Her eyes were lit up with excitement, but John did not share in that emotion. He supposed this moment had would have come eventually.

Having to lie to his team.

"There's not much to tell," he warily began.

"Really?" Rachnera was on him in an instant. "You are only the most famous human in the galaxy. You would think there were a couple of things to tell."

John silently recalled his first meeting with the Arachne. She seemed to have it out for him in particular, mainly because of his renown.

He hated that fame just as much as her. He just wanted to fight and win the war, as did the rest of the UNSC's soldiers. "We were never meant to be famous," he clarified. "The UNSC declassified the Spartans' existence as a morale boost."

That took the team by surprise, if the shocked looks on Rachnera, Miia and Kyuri's face were anything to go by.

"Seriously?" Miia said. "I never knew that."

Rachnera placed her claw against the side of her face. John fully braced himself against more personal, biting questions from her, but much to his surprise, she didn't.

Even she respected the Taboo, it seemed.

"I think Miia meant the other thing," Derek pointed out. "The uhm…the ehh…"

"The personal things?" Kyuri provided.

"Yeah, those."

Miia nodded in agreement. "Y-Yeah. I was wondering about the basic things, like your likes and your dislikes."

"Why do you want to know?"

A heavy silence followed his question. Derek immediately and physically distanced himself from the conversation by leaning back in his chair and taking a sudden and intense interest in his glass. John wished he could do the same.

Rachnera couldn't hide her shock, but Miia didn't look that surprised. It was like she suspected he would respond like that. "People don't need a reason to be nice, darling. I just want to get to know you."

John looked down at his water, his scarred hands gripping the frame tightly. He wasn't sure if –

"We can swap stories, if you want," Miia then offered. "If it helps. I have a few embarrassing ones."

"You first, then."

"Alright." Setting her glass down, Miia wriggled into a more comfortable position. "I once almost killed a superior officer by cooking for him."

"How did that happen?"

"Ah…well, you see," Miia began, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, "This Captain once came to visit our barracks, so we drew straws to see who would be cooking for him. I won the lottery, so I guessed, how difficult can this be? As it turns out, it's not difficult at all – just don't give your CO food poisoning."

Draco snorted and Derek winced; a sentiment shared by the Chief. That couldn't have been good for Miia's career.

"Hmm…I was stuck on cleaning duty for two weeks after that," Miia then said, picking up her glass again.

"And the Captain?" John asked.

"Never visited our barracks again. Your turn."

He thought about it for a moment. "During training, we were constantly running "missions"," he began haltingly. "Capture the flag, capture an enemy target, those things. Our trainer, CPO Mendez, always threw in a twist. Always a catch. Hidden snipers, buried mines, those sort of things."

"Loaded, I presume, with paint?" Rachnera said.

John didn't smile, but he felt the ghost of one soften the hard set of his mouth. "Stun rounds. They numb you…paralyse you if you're hit."

Miia didn't ask as much as she nudged, helping him along when he inevitably lacked the will to keep going. He told them about that one exercise where Blue Team – Sam, Kelly and him back then – ran headfirst into an ambush. John remembered that moment like it was yesterday. He had missed the automated sentry guns hidden away in the target building and they had nailed Sam and him right when they were about to breach.

He had whispered a curse when he went down, landing on the ground in a very uncomfortable position, stuck until the exercise was over. And Sam had landed right on top of him, folded over him like a collapsed house of cards.

As he recounted the story, he felt…less tense. Though the memory of his best friend left him sad and weary with remembrance, talking about it made him feel better. Lighter.

Maybe Miia was right. Maybe he needed this shore leave more than he thought.

~0~

---

UNSC CODEX ENTRY: BIOLOGY/CULTURE: POST-COVENANT POPULATION DECLINE AND INCREASE

A population decline in humans is a reduction in a human population caused by events such as economic recession, urban decay, high death rates due to violence, disease, or other catastrophes. Human history is especially replete with examples of large-scale depopulations when compared to the other races, especially before their 20th century, when population decline was mostly due to disease, starvation and epidemics.

However, the largest population shock in human history was undoubtedly the Human-Covenant War. Out of the original 51 billion humans and Liminals estimated before the war, only 15 billion remain. The period immediately after the end of the Human-Covenant War has seen a significant increase in birth rate (see causes segment). During the penultimate year of the war, the UEG had become a nation where virtually all teen- and middle-aged men and women, human or Liminal, fought to stave off total extinction.

Because of the remaining population's need and desire for procreation by the end of the war, some sexual subjects that are considered taboo and deviant in some culture, such as polygamy, are accepted and actively practised in most UEG cultures. The results of this cultural change on the Council species vary per race.