The lift doors slid open to reveal the cavernous deck of Infinity which was dedicated to her Spartan-IV contingent.
Palmer preceded them out, but Briar could see the reactions of those personnel closest over the Spartan Commander's now bared head as she and John stepped out in unison. They, unlike him, wore their reactions openly, ranging from shock to admiration to intimidation. She couldn't blame them. He stood head and shoulders above the lot of them, a god walking amongst mere mortals. They'd been divested of their weapons upon deboarding the pelican, and yet even unarmed, his superiority was unquestionable.
Following Palmer down the central aisle, they were directed to the platform mounted equipment which would remove their MJOLNIR.
Spartan-IVs were abandoning all pretense of doing anything other than staring as she and John mounted opposite platforms.
The human-assisted machinery detached the suit's exoskeleton following a procedure Briar was all too familiar with by now. When the last piece dropped away, she reached up and took off her helmet, passing it off to the nearest pair of waiting gloved hands. She blew away the loose strands of hair which had fallen into her eyes as she stepped down, looking across to John. His mouth and eyes were tight, his gaze locked onto her, and she understood why.
He didn't want their attention. Their worship. He just wanted to do his duty.
"Dr. Halsey's waiting in med bay 7," Palmer informed them, having remained ensconced in her GEN2 with helmet tucked under an arm.
Briar could feel her scrutiny, and turned her head to meet the woman's eye, having to tip her chin down to do so.
"I won't pretend to understand where she gets her information from, but Noble Six died on Reach." There was a clear note of misgiving beneath the challenge.
"That's what the file says," Briar confirmed.
John angled his head towards the lift and she took his cue, retracing their path. If anything, the Spartan-IVs appeared more in awe at the sight of the Master Chief without MJOLNIR than within.
When the lift doors sealed behind them, she rested a shoulder against the sleek metallic interior and crossed her arms. "I don't trust Halsey." The woman had never come up between them before despite her heavy involvement in the Spartan-II program, but on the other hand he hadn't proven very willing to chat about that particular subject. Or many others. She wasn't sure how he would take the statement, but she wouldn't ignore what her gut was telling her, and he deserved to know.
"She has her own motives in all of this," he agreed after a moment. Even bared of his MJOLNIR, he was especially difficult to read as the lift brought them to the appropriate deck.
"Osman would have known Osiris wasn't up to scratch when she sent them after us. There's more to this."
He faced her, brow creasing. "She believes what she said down there."
"I know." Briar lifted her shoulders. Halsey's disdain for the Admiral had been real enough. "But they released her for a reason."
"You think she's playing along as a means to her own end," John concluded.
"I think she's playing everyone involved."
The lift settled on the proper deck and they turned together as the doors opened. The corridor outside was empty, though whether by design or coincidence was a mystery. They moved to the door labelled as med bay 7 and it slid apart, inviting them in.
"Took you long enough," Halsey's clipped tones greeted them. She motioned to an examination table with impatience. "John."
Briar followed him over and clasped her hands behind her back as she took up a position nearby.
Once he was lying on the table, Halsey tapped in some commands to begin running the various diagnostic scans. "Have you been suffering from any ill effects?"
"No," he answered.
"The levels on your toxicology report suggested they'd dosed you heavily enough with contraindicated drugs to produce severe adverse reactions." Halsey was absorbed in the feedback from the ongoing scans, but still managed to sound indignant. Her eyes narrowed at some data or other and she turned towards Briar. "Your role in all this remains unclear to me."
"How inconvenient," she responded with disinterest.
"I can tell you dislike me. I never agreed with the selection criteria utilized for your program. ONI falsely believed by specifically choosing candidates who held an existing grudge for the Covenant and fostering that hatred throughout the course of their training, they'd create soldiers primed to do whatever it took to win the war, including sacrifice themselves without question." Halsey scrolled through some of the feedback. "What they failed to consider is that while sacrifice is sometimes necessary to achieve the end goal, it is also too often the obvious solution, but not the best one. Spartan-IIs are capable of making these sorts of determinations without outside input. Of examining all viable options and selecting the most appropriate given their specific circumstances, in real time. Especially when paired with an advanced tactical AI."
There was no question to whom she was referring, of course, and from the corner of her eye Briar noticed John's muscles had tensed. "But you had no issue with their selection criteria." She didn't want to be riled by the woman, but indifference was an impossible demeanor to maintain when faced with her unfathomable callousness in discussing what had happened.
Halsey shot her a sharp glance. "What do you know about that?"
"That they were children. Like us." John had said as much, and since it was the deep-seated hatred instilled in the IIIs by having been orphaned by the Covenant she seemed to take exception with, Briar didn't think her next statement was much of a leap. "But they had families, didn't they?"
"I know what I did was unconscionable," Halsey said after a long pause.
The scans concluded and John sat up. His expression was closed, as it so often was. But the condemnation was there, in his eyes as he regarded Halsey silently.
She squared her shoulders as she turned to him. "It was also necessary." She stepped closer, her hand lifting towards him. "You were necessary, John." The disbelief which registered on her face as Briar's fingers closed around her fragile wrist before she got within a foot of touching him was the most emotion she'd yet displayed.
"You don't get to justify what you did. Not to him. Not anymore."
She was quick to regain her composure, all things considered. "You're out of line, Spartan."
"There'd have to be a line for that to be true," Briar reminded her coolly. She'd stepped away from their pristine rules long ago, when assigned her first black-ops mission. "And even if there were, you're not in anyone's chain of command."
Before Halsey could reply, John got up from the table. "Let her go," he said, his back already turned as he headed for the exit. "We're done here."
Brow lifting expectantly, Halsey waited to be released. The moment she was, she moved to a console and snatched something up. "John, wait. I have something for you."
Briar had followed him, but was frozen by an ominous suspicion at those words. She turned to see the chip Halsey was holding aloft.
"I've been working on a new model. Superior to anything the UNSC has or will have access to for the next five years, at minimum." Halsey brandished the chip like a symbol of hope, of repentance. Of amends. "She's ready for you."
Briar had the very real and sudden urge to smash the thing beneath her heel. Before she could act on it, a warm hand encircled her elbow and ushered her from the room.
John didn't say anything as they returned to the lift. And when she opened her mouth to do so, his warning squeeze prevented the words from leaving her throat. He hit the button for the deck Lasky had already informed them their quarters were located on during the ride up to the ship, and when the door opened, he released her arm. "I need to speak with the captain." He wouldn't meet her eye.
With a nod, she stepped out of the lift. If he didn't want her there, that was his prerogative. As she'd just pointed out to Halsey, she didn't fit within the UNSC's ranks any longer.
It was well into the sleep cycle when her door suddenly slid open to admit the shadowed figure in the hall. Briar pushed up slowly into a half-sitting position. "You seem undecided for someone standing outside my cabin in the middle of the night."
"I didn't expect it to open automatically," John admitted, his bulk filling the doorway as he passed through it.
"So your plan was to lurk in the corridor."
"Didn't have a plan." The door closed behind him.
"Mmmhmm." She slid in towards the wall, leaving as much of the bunk as possible free for him. They'd been sized appropriately to accommodate Spartans at least. Just not two of them at once.
He hesitated, but joined her in the end, sitting on the edge to remove the boots he now wore in conjunction with his black and charcoal fatigues. She'd likewise swapped her skinsuit earlier, but wore only the t-shirt and boxer briefs under the blanket currently. After shucking the boots and hanging the cap on the bedpost, he laid back beside her.
"I can hear you thinking," she insisted after enduring several minutes of him staring up at the ceiling.
"You programmed it to let me in."
She snorted. "Call it a moment of weakness." It'd been wishful thinking on her part, plain and simple. She hadn't honestly expected he would turn up. "But that's not what's bothering you."
"No." He didn't elaborate, and she didn't push him to. It could have been one of a million things considering his situation, but somehow she knew it was the AI. And she hated Halsey all the more for that.
Turning to her side, Briar lifted her hand to trail her fingers over his face. She gently coaxed him to close his eyes and then continued to stroke across his temples, his nose, his jaw until the stress slipped from the hard lines of his features and his breathing deepened in sleep. She stayed that way long after she should have gone to sleep herself, instead savouring every single quiet moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest and the way his eyelids flickered in dreams.
People were screaming.
Thick plumes of smoke filled the air along with the cloying stench of singed flesh and hair. And fear.
Sticky blood coated her hands. Red, not blue.
She recognized the buildings surrounding her; some crumbling, torn apart by plasma blasts - some whole; her home, from the eyes of the small girl she hadn't been for more than 20 years now.
As she turned in a slow circle to take in the chaos, weapons fire and the horrified shouts of the dying accosting her eardrums, a familiar figure strode into the gloom.
John.
She followed him. She tried to call out, but the acrid smoke clogged her throat.
He walked calmly through the destruction, his step never faltering. All around him aliens savaged her people and yet he carried on confidently, purposefully.
She struggled not to fall behind despite his unhurried pace. Each time something or someone impeded her view, terror tightened like a vice around her heart, making it difficult to think, to breathe. She scrambled past those crying out for her, reaching out for her. She had to get to John - needed to reach him.
He rounded a burning structure, disappearing from sight, and she rushed in his wake, desperate. Desperate to get to him. To stop him.
But it was too late. Too late when she staggered around the building.
A different scene played out before her now. A playground. A boy. A woman. She knelt before him and said something.
"John."
His expression was one of determination. He nodded.
"John!"
The woman tossed something into the air.
"JOHN!"
He looked over, squinting against the sun. Freckles spattered the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.
The woman laid her hand on his small shoulder.
Too late.