-Chapter 7-
United Nations Space Command
April 17, 2541
1100 Hours Greenwich Mean Time (2100 Hours AEST)
Sydney, Australia, Earth
HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
Extreme security was an understatement.
The Hive was roughly honeycomb in design, and each section of that honeycomb was its own world, referred to as a wing. And as such, each wing maintained a vast array of security gates, aerial patrol drones, watchtowers, guard stations, motion trackers and multi-spectrum security cameras. Armed guard patrols and auto-mechanical support robots. Lieutenant Alex Truniht had spent more than two hours inside the Hive, and he'd spent the entire time under scrutiny. Each guard station had to check his credentials. Automated security gates checked his service number and cross-referenced it with multiple civilian and military police databases. Junior officers approached him for his reasons for visiting. And he'd been forced to sign at least three documents stating: he couldn't discuss whatever business he had within the Hive outside of it, unless required to do so by authorized authority; he couldn't discuss any of his experiences within the Hive outside of it, unless required to do so by authorized authority; and he was required to submit a copy of his travel log to the Hive's admin team, upon being requested to do so by authorized authority. A breach of any of those would result in an automatic court-martial and imprisonment within the 'Crucible' penal colony for a sentence of no less than 2 years.
Alex figured that type of security was to be expected. HIGHCOM was, essentially, the UNSC. The chain of command got no higher; it was the 'they' people referred to when speaking of the upper echelons of UNSC power and society. Bravo-6 was the most powerful HIGHCOM institution outside of those on Reach, and was where anything and everything pertaining to the UNSC took place. A lot of decisions were made here. A lot of weapons were tested here. If a battle group was ordered to attack an insurrectionist headquarters, this was the type of place that decision was made. And so the security made complete sense. Hypothetically speaking, if the HIGHCOM facilities all exploded at the same time and wiped out everyone a part of them, such a catastrophic terrorist event would break the back of the UNSC. It would singlehandedly destroy it.
Those types of attacks were almost non-existent. But not unheard of. And though it was entirely outside the modus operandi of the Covenant, it wasn't impossible. If humanity considered that type of warfare, then it was safe to assume that at least someone in the Covenant would consider it. That type of sabotage attack that would shatter the military.
But that wasn't going to happen today. Alex hoped, at least.
He scanned the doorway in front of him. The only identifying feature was the name plaque above it: Rear Admiral Bren J. Shepard, Ship Operations Specialist, System Defense Advisory Lead, Officer Corps Co-Supervisor. Hero of Jericho VII.
Distinguished title after distinguished title.
Alex cleared his throat. Tightened up his collar. Checked to make sure his three little ribbons were lined perfectly. Glanced at his chronometer. Spat out a wad of chewing gum into a nearby trash can. Then pressed the pad by the door.
"State your name, occupation and business," a young voice said through the small COM on the pad.
"Lieutenant Alex Truniht, Office of Naval Intelligence Section Three. I have a meeting with Rear Admiral Shepard scheduled for 9 PM."
There was a minute or so before she got back to him. "Come in."
The doorway parted, and Alex entered a clean lobby area decorated by an overhead chandelier and a single, massive plaque built into a wall that was shaped in the UNSC's insignia. A small desk sat on the far end of the room, where a young senior-grade cadet sat at a computer. So Alex assumed that she was probably enrolled in the Earth Institute of Military Science and Technology OCS. It wasn't uncommon for officer candidate schools to allow cadets to serve in pre-graduation clerk roles, and EIMST was definitely no exception. Of course, Alex knew that because he'd attended the school itself. It was the most prestigious OCS out there - even more so than Reach Naval Academy.
He made his way over to the desk, resisting the urge to pop a VoidJoy into his mouth.
"Hello, Cadet..." He studied her nametag. "Jonesyn."
"Lieutenant. The Admiral is waiting for you beyond these doors," she gestured toward a set of double doors behind her.
"Thanks," he said, heading to the doors. Then he paused. Glanced back at her. "And Captain Dawson's famous trick question isn't about gravity. It's about the electroweak force."
She cocked her head to the side. Squinted at him with a curious look. Then sudden realization overcame her features, and she smiled.
Alex continued on. Dawson was still at EIMST, and undoubtedly still stumping senior cadets with his trick question about Lagrangian Field Theory disguised as a thought-experiment on gravity.
He made it through to Shepard's inner-office. It was a smaller space, and Alex's first impression was one of minimalism. Contrary to Alex's expectations, Shepard's office was lightly decorated. A simple UNSC-insignia embroidered onto a carpet covering the floor. A pair of tall lamps, one on either side of the room. A single large window at the rear of the room, overlooking the field below. There was a large holo-still covering one wall. It depicted a younger Shepard, his uniform bearing the rank of Lieutenant Commander. He was smiling broadly, standing next to a tall woman who also wore a uniform and even outranked him. Her nametag read Lisa Shepard. Between them was a small girl, no older than 4. They looked happy.
"Reminder of who I'm serving for," Shepard said.
Alex turned to him and kicked a sharp salute. The admiral was seated behind the desk, sporting a newer uniform than the one in the holo-still. A uniform with far more medals, ribbons and badges, and a face that sported a few more worry lines.
"Sir!"
"At ease, Lieutenant. Sit."
Alex took one of the chairs in the office, pulling out his datapad in the process. "I wasn't aware you had a family, sir."
"I try not to broadcast it. Hard enough trying to keep my own life private."
Alex scanned the man.
Shepard didn't seem too physically remarkable. The man had average short brown hair, covering an average sized head that had average facial features. A nose that was neither too long nor too short; eyes that were neither too big nor too small. A jawline that was neither too pronounced nor too slender. Fair skin on a well-shaved face. Of note, however, was Shepard's brow. It was furrowed, and reached out over his eyes, giving him a grim look. Like his face was in shadow, despite the fact it wasn't.
"You smoke?" Shepard asked, pulling out a case of Sweet Williams.
"No, sir, I don't."
"But you do drink."
Shepard lit one and closed the case. Took a puff on it, then leaned forward in his seat. Produced a glass of... Alex recognized it as Hiskellian Curated Silgnac. An expensive and exotic kind of brandy. The kind that had to be ordered from a limited supply, and had to be kept for special occasions. Shepard poured two glasses of the silver-blue liquid. It appeared to glow, as if it were alive or something. Shepard pushed one glass across the table to Alex before leaning back in his seat.
Alex took it, nodded his head by way of thanks, and took a sip. Ice flowed down his throat. The sensation was heady and different. Made him feel like he'd dived inside a tub filled with tiny frozen marbles. A perfect blend of sweetness and something tangy and lemon-esque.
"Damn, that's good," Alex admitted.
"Know a guy who knows a guy who knows a seller. And it ain't cheap," Shepard said. His gaze met Alex's. "Like Beta Company."
Alex loosened his collar a bit. Leaned forward. "I take it this conversation is... Privileged?"
"Jonesyn's not even going to know. If she doesn't know, nobody else will. As far as the UNSC is concerned, you and I never met, and this conversation never happened."
"Let me get you to read over this," Alex handed Shepard his datapad.
It was open to an overview document of Beta Company, providing basic details on things like Company members and affiliates, funding, important dates and so on. Alex waited patiently as Shepard took the time to study the document. Shepard tapped the datapad a few times, which meant he was opening up further pages for more detailed information. More than 15 minutes passed by the time Shepard handed the datapad back to Alex.
"This is inhumane," Shepard said.
Uh-oh.
"But I suppose necessary," he continued
Ohkay.
"Unfortunately," Alex added.
"Unfortunately indeed. Do you keep up with the news, out there at Onyx?"
Alex gestured with his hand. "We h-hear a little bit. Here and there. Most of it's bad news."
"Grinelli System just fell back in February. Covenant raiders. A Spartan-II was killed in the campaign. And the Lipseen Habitats were destroyed just this March. Both those losses together cost the Navy more than 125 ships."
"Jesus..."
"HIGHCOM and ONI have been keeping most of the War under tight wraps. Right now, there's only three things keeping the UNSC afloat on the frontlines: Admiral Cole, the Master Chief, and the surviving Spartans. 5 and 10-year projection models are being constructed by some of our highest-level AI, including the Assembly... And it's not looking good. Preliminary reports are already being drafted on the feasibility of evacuating humanity to Andromeda through the use of generation ships."
Alex nodded. It was the type of thing that, at one point in time, seemed like fantasy. The idea that humanity might one day leave behind the galaxy. But fantasy was rapidly turning into distinct possibility. There were more than a dozen designs for various generation ships - vessels that could travel, theoretically, any possible distance, given the time and energy. The only problem was cost. It would cost, in an almost literal sense, everything.
"So you understand the importance of Beta Company more than most," Alex said.
"All too well. But there's the matter of Ackerson."
"I was hoping you'd have some ideas on that front," Alex admitted.
Shepard seemed to ponder in thought for a moment. Took another sip of his brandy. Alex did the same. Then Shepard finally answered.
"He's officially just a liaison. But unofficially wields a lot of influence within Section Three. Your division, specifically. I'm not sure if you're aware, Lieutenant, but Beta-5 in particular is first-grade top secret. Even most of ONI doesn't know about it. So Ackerson's just technically untouchable. I can't do anything that involves him and his connection to the Spartan-IIIs, not if I want to keep from going to prison.
"What I can do is make a call. He's on Reach right now, but if I can get him to Earth, I might be able to tie him down. It's a matter of timing."
Alex swallowed. Glanced over his shoulder at the door, even though he knew it was closed. Even still, he lowered his voice, as if someone might be eavesdropping. His next words were dangerous, and had to be chosen well. "What about a more... Permanent solution?"
Shepard didn't say anything for a long moment. Just swiveled in his chair and looked out the window for a second. As though it were some type of warning, a pair of drones buzzed by outside. Their spotlights illuminated the night atmosphere like they were searching for something.
"Do you think that's necessary?"
"I-I don't know if it's necessary. But it's a permanent solution. It's safe."
Shepard let out a long sigh, then finished off his brandy. Swiveled around to face Alex again. "I can't take it that far."
"Nobody's going to trace you, not if we do it right."
"It's not about that," he said. "I'm not worried about risk. I'm worried about consequences. Whatever the problems are, Ackerson is still an officer, one with a lot of combat experience. For better or worse, the UNSC needs men like him."
"He's not worth Beta Company."
Shepard didn't say anything at that.
They sat in silence for a long moment. Alex finished off his brandy, then continued. "If-if Beta Company goes on these crazy suicide missions like they did Alpha Company, it's only a matter of time before they're all KIA. Years worth of training and drilling, gone out the window because of ONI's obsession with going behind enemy lines. With Ackerson out of the pic-picture for good... We can focus our time and resources on the Headhunters and Specialist Teams."
"Here's the best I can do," Shepard said. "I can tap the ORC and increase funding to Beta Company by 100%. That's resources for the Headhunters and the Specialists. Resources for SPI improvements. But as for Ackerson, I can press PERSCOM for an emergency staff reservation spot. Essentially get him into a temporary job here on Earth until PERSCOM finds a replacement - a replacement that I can stall for as long as I need to. He'll still have remote access to his Beta-5 assets, but those kinds of Priority One orders require direct confirmation."
Alex sighed. It was great, but not what he'd hoped for. Ackerson needed to go. But he'd have to take what he could get.
"Very well."
They sat in silence again. Like some sort of mutual awareness of the shittiness of their position. Although they were from completely different areas of the UNSC, they both shared in the bitter agony of its internal disputes. The difficulty of it all. Alex wondered how often Shepard was put into uncomfortable situations like this, and realized that he didn't envy the man's position one bit. Shepard was under no obligation to help, and had more than his own share of problems without having to worry about Beta Company.
"How's... Saint?" Shepard asked.
"The kid's great. Can't really call him a kid anymore, though. Not after what they've all been through."
"Is it really that bad? What you have on the datapad?"
Alex shook his head. "It's worse. By the time I get back to Onyx, we might be down to just under 400 cadets, if not more. ONI's extremely worried about this intel leaking to the public for good reason. We might lose control of the Outer-Colonies entirely."
"You have any kids, Lieutenant?"
"I've got nothing but... Beta Company. And I suppose my rifle."
Shepard nodded. "Word of advice: If you do have kids someday, keep them as far away from the UNSC as possible."
"Yes, sir."