Three figures sat around the gleaming metallic table in a room with equally resplendent walls. This meeting was taking place in a hardened bunker specifically designed to facilitate important delegations regarding the future of the alliance between humanity, SkyNet and the Tau. It was located deep underground somewhere in the Great Plains of North America. Shas'o Kais sat in traditional Fire Warrior armor without a helmet while being flanked by two subordinate shas'ui's in SFE's wielding burstcannons. Captain Luna, newly promoted after leading a mission that had resulted in the discovery of what the Covenant had been looking for in New York City, sat in the ebony combat armor I.D. agents currently used. Flanking the captain was a pair of Special Forces soldiers wielding plasma carbines that Captain Perry had handpicked to safeguard his surrogate sister. X2, seemingly garbed in a skin-tight jumpsuit that left little to the imagination, was grinning cheerfully at the others while her T-850 guardians sat there in silent threat wielding heavy-duty versions of plasma rifles. Hovering in front of the representatives was a holographic transmission of their respective leaders. Aun'vre Gras'ur had been selected to lead his people in these uncertain times and had been elevated to the rank of Aun'o and it looked as though the decision weighed heavily on his Tau features. General Conner looked as stern and weary as ever with the heavy scar on his cheek drawing that side of his face slightly down. SkyNet, in contrast, was brimming with energy but that was undoubtedly an affectation the A.I. consciousness was putting on to manipulate the emotions of the humans.

It secretly amused each of the representatives seated at the table that their leaders practically forced their armies to cooperate, sometimes side-by-side, and yet would not meet in the same room for fear of assassination. Paranoia seemed to be one of the more consistent rules in the universe.

"The first item on the forum is force numbers," X2 said, her voice still disgustingly cheerful, as she acted as the record-keeper for the meeting. "Who would like to begin?"

SkyNet immediately spoke up when the other two hesitated slightly, "I have exactly fifteen thousand, six hundred and nine active T-Eight-Fifty units. Three hundred and five active T-X units. One thousand, four hundred and nine T-Eight-Hundred units still operational. Six I-Nine-Fifty units. Two T-One Thousans units. Five hundred and fifty-three H/K Tanks. Two hundred and sixty-nine H/K Aerocraft. Five thous-"

"I think we've heard enough, SkyNet," General Conner interrupted drolly; "You could have stopped after the Aerocraft. Just send the data packet with our representatives and we'll review it at our leisure. TechCom North American Infantry numbers approximately nineteen thousand. South American ten to fifteen thousand. Eurasian somewhere in the range of seventy thousand. African fifty thousand. Australian somewhere in the range of five thousand. These are rough estimates. Our real-time communications have been very spotty in the past and record keeping is problematic. There is no way to be entirely certain until we physically do a census. Even then it will be difficult. Humans have become very good at hiding, even from each other."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence around the table as the General touched upon a very sensitive subject.

Aun'o Gras'ur filled that void of silence, "We have approximately four hundred thousand Tau Fire Warriors still ready for active duty. Half that number of kor, air caste, pilots and only fifty thousand fio's. Exact numbers for our armored cavalry and aerospace forces are still being calculated but the number we have will be in the data packet."

"Has that item been successfully examined and resolved?" X2 asked and received nods from each hologram, "The next item is captured Covenant resources and their disposition. I will now proceed to read the preliminary reports given to me by each party in this alliance-"

"Excuse me," the Aun interrupted, "But I would like to suggest a tentative name for this alliance, which I one day hope to make permanent, to be used in the interim by our respective peoples."

"What name would that be, Aun?" Conner asked, with a single eyebrow raised.

"The Trinity of Light."

SkyNet mused, "It has a decidedly religious tone to it. Organics tend to respond more fervently to causes that touch on innate religious fervor. I approve."

Conner shrugged, "How about we just shorten it to Trinity for general use."

A round of agreement passed between each of the three leaders before X2 spoke again.

"As I was saying-" X2 began with the exasperated tone of a teenager but quickly continued in a professional voice after a stern glance from the holographic projection of SkyNet, "Minor to moderate damage has been sustained to seventy-three percent of the Hegemony Fleet in orbit. Ten percent of the fleet has been rendered unsalvageable in regards to their operational status. They can however provide a large amount of scrap metal to be used in the production of a number of prototype capital ship designs Trinity R&D has presented. The remainder of the Fleet was captured without any significant damage to their structure or internal systems. Approximately ninety-five percent of Hegemony ground forces have been eliminated or captured. The remaining percentage was either listed as MIA's or is being actively hunted as we speak. We have captured five hundred and nineteen Hegemony personnel from a variety of species and units. Interrogation has yielded little new intelligence. The table is open for discussion."

There was only silence until the General spoke up, "That was pretty straight-forward and I for one have little to say."

The other two leaders nodded their agreement and X2 shrugged.

"The next item is the status of Operation: Deliverance classified at Omega-Black."

"That operation is five standard weeks from going operational," SkyNet added, "Details will be sent in the data packet."

The two organic leaders nodded and X2 continued, " The next item is the preliminary findings from the ForeRunner facility excavated by the Hegemony under New York City. The science team believes this facility was used as a repository of data from over five thousand galaxies and was one of the first ever built because there are no cloning pods as have been found by the Hegemony on several other Earth's. It is believed that some catastrophic event may have corrupted much of the data but the team will need more time to ascertain the severity of the degradation. There is a plethora of information about the biology of our Hegemony foes that is readily available though and that has given Special Weapons R&D and the genetics division bon-a-fide boners. Forgive me for the lapse, sir," the Terminator apologized to her father after a stern look and a severe admonishing over their ether-link. "Specific details have been correlated and will be sent in the data packet."

"Was there any available data on the race of hostiles that were preventing the Covenant from gaining access to the facility?" General Conner asked, his voice heavy with sorrow, "I think we'd all like to know what those creatures were that could have ground the Covenant advance almost to a halt and managed to kill half the reconnaissance team we sent into the interior."

"There is data regarding that species. Would you like me to give a brief synopsis?" the General and Aun nodded in unison. "The race calls itself Yautja and is a proto-mammalian species with decidedly reptilian characteristics. Physically they are far superior to humans, Tau, and nearly the superiors of T-X units. Technologically their society is highly specialized and advanced. Their level of technology is on par with the Hegemony but it is so specialized that in many areas it would seem primitive in comparison. Much of that technological prowess is exerted around the nomadic, hunting lifestyle they have adopted after the ForeRunners left them to their own devices millennia ago. Their society revolves around hunting worthy prey, usually other hunters, and they have used Earth as their hunting ground as far back as the Iron Age. There is a plethora of data on these hostiles as they have been designated as the guardians for major ForeRunner facilities. The data is in the packet flagged as high priority."

"I would like to hear a first-hand impression from Captain Luna," O'Gras'ur spoke with quiet command. "I have read the official report but the first impression of soldiers are always the truest, I have found."

"Sir?" Luna received a nod from General Conner and began to speak, "Terror. That was my first impression. SpecOps Elites with cloaks were nothing new to us. They would hide out nearly in front of you and then charge with energy blades. Thermal imaging shows them clear as day so it's not hard to take them out. Those things though, they hid and used cloaks. Thermals don't do any good if you don't know to look in the right place. The Terminators could tell where they were but they moved so fast it was hard to keep up with the machines or the hostiles. In the space of five minutes my fireteam was separated from the squad and a minute after that only I was left. At the end there were only four I.D. agents, several Pathfinders, and a T-Eight-Fifty left. The machines were taken out first and aggressively. I guess the yautja knew they were the greatest threat. I saw one of the hostiles appear out of nowhere behind a T-Eight-Fifty and ripped its arms right out of their sockets before the T-Eight-Fifty could move. The rest of us were toyed with by the few yautja remaining until we managed to eliminate them. If the Covenant hadn't been softening them up for months I don't think we would have stood much of a chance with the number of soldiers we had available. "

"Are you suggesting that five hundred of the most elite Fire Warriors and TechCom soldiers would have been taken out by less than fifty hostiles?" the General fumed.

"Yes, sir, that is exactly what I am suggesting."

"General Conner," SkyNet interjected, "Keep in mind that Hostile Species identified as Covenant Holy Paladins displayed nearly the same lethality with far fewer numbers."

"It is not encouraging knowing that there are forces in this universe capable of utterly decimating even our most well-trained, disciplined, and armed soldiers," the Aun lamented, "I have also heard tales of the Sentient Coalition's Spartans. They have destroyed every Hegemony force I have ever heard their name invoked by. What defense do we have against such super-soldiers? "

"None as of yet," SkyNet admitted, "We have two operations in their preliminary phases to balance out this disparity in the combat efficiency between our soldiers and the front-line troops of the Hegemony. X-Two, would you please?"

"Project: Evolution, classified Alpha-Black, is designed to provide the next evolution in Trinity infantry combat. The two organic species in the Trinity are not as they were designed to be by the ForeRunner."

"What do you mean?" O'Gras'ur said, slightly affronted by the very idea.

"Terrans and the five castes of the Tau people were projected to be at a certain point in their evolution by now as dictated by ForeRunner computer extrapolation. It is unknown why but there were no attempts to influence the evolution of most species created by the Final Solution. As such many of the species genetic destinies have been rewritten by a combination of natural selection, viral transfusions of DNA from outside sources, environmental catastrophes, and sometimes the species themselves. Operation: Evolution, in theory, will create a gene re-sequencing technique that will alter a subject's DNA to match as closely as possible with what it should be. In essence the subject will as they were meant to be. Still human but more human. Still Tau but more Tau. Terminator models will also undergo a partial reconstruction in their design parameters based off of concurrent developments made in Special Weapons."

"Will test subjects be needed?" the General asked, knowing SkyNet's proclivity for the practice, and ready to end the alliance if it was even hinted at.

"Computer extrapolation will be good for everything but the final trial. We will need an archetype to go by and for that we will need a volunteer," X2 explained, cocking an eyebrow at the General.

"What about this Project: Triad?" O'Gras'ur politely refocused the discussion.

X2 grinned, "It is a project whose purpose is to directly counter threats like the Paladins and yautja. Project: Triad will create three-soldier, ideally Tau, Terran, and Machine, squads capable of acting as the equivalent of a company of conventional Special Forces soldiers. They will be given the re-sequencing of the Evolution project but additionally will receive cybernetic and nanotechnological enhancements. The Triad soldier's powered armor will be composed of the latest in exoskeletal armor technology. More detailed information on both operations will be available in the data packet. "

"Why is the ideal squad composed of all three…" Conner seemed to have a hard time getting the next word out, "-species represented in the Trinity."

"Data taken from the fighting aboard the Covenant Command Carrier indicates that in combat situations involving Paladins, combinations of Trinity forces fared the best. The most successful unit was small, highly mobile, and solely dedicated to the purpose of eradicating the Paladins. That unit was also composed of each species." X2 hesitated for a moment before continuing, "We would like to use that unit in the archetype phases of both projects."

That brought a round of silence from the table before O'Gras'ur broke it.

"Shas'el Templar is suffering deeply from the loss of his cadre but if I ask it of him he will."

"The T-X unit will do as it is ordered," SkyNet glanced at his daughter as she coughed, "Excuse me, as she is ordered."

General Conner was the last to speak and did so with great reluctance, "If we can find Redman we'll ask him."

Both of his counterparts looked shocked at this admission but remained silent.

"Has this item been examined and resolved?" X2 asked quickly to dispel the tense silence in the room and continued at everyone's nod, "The next item is the reinforcement of infantry soldiers and the manufacture and distribution of a naval fleet."

"Construction on manufacturing facilities in lunar orbit has already begun," SkyNet began, "Large-scale, Terran-based manufacturing facilities are also under-construction. At optimal efficiency I can have half a million Terminator units ready to go active in five standard weeks. Artillery, armored cavalry, and aerospace fleet information will be relayed in the data packet."

"I am not comfortable with Terminators outnumbering TechCom infantry," General Conner said, "Recruitment and enlistment is problematic for us. Training with all of this advanced technology is going to take months. Acclimating the general populace to the fact that we are knee-deep in an alliance with Machines and aliens is going to take even longer. I also am not comfortable with SkyNet being solely responsible for building a naval fleet. What's to stop you from completing your goal of wiping out humanity? I can not, in good conscience, give my agreement to your plans to place humanity at your mercy. It's bad enough the Tau outnumber us without having to worry about the Machines completely taking over."

"Are you suggesting that my people would seek to dominate your planet?" this time O'Gras'ur sounded more angry than affronted, "We need your cooperation to make Operation: Deliverance a success. Why would SkyNet betray you now? It knows there is an entire universe for it to lose itself in and never come into contact with humanity. "

"Why hasn't it suggested it could leave then?" Conner said, his face twisted with suspicion.

"Maybe it feels it needs to atone for its sins," SkyNet nodded slightly at the Aun's suggestions.

Conner laughed bitterly, "It's a machine. It doesn't have feelings and if it did I don't think guilt would be one of them."

The leaders of the Trinity of Light stayed up late in the night as they fervently discussed plans for the futures of their civilizations.

Humanity it seemed, no matter its circumstances, always found ways to perpetuate vice. The local bar, serving pungent liquor probably distilled in a rusting tin tub, was located deep in the forests of South Carolina. Only the Haven outpost and local inhabitants knew of its existence. It was partially buried; only a tiny portion of the roof was exposed, in a patch of forest virtually indistinguishable from the rest. TechCom had prohibited its soldiers from frequenting such establishments and, when it found them right in the middle of fledgling communities of survivors, drove them to the outskirts of the community. Drunken gunfights and brawls had more than once proven to be the undoing of a small community.

The interior of the fine establishment was dim, smoky, and reeked of a multitude of odors that would have nauseated anyone not accustomed to the state of humanity post-Judgement Day. There were two levels to the bar, an upper and lower, which served basically two functions. The upper level was composed of three rooms, each slightly lower than the other; the main taproom where people could trade food and medical supplies for liquor. A storeroom where the stairs to the lower level were located was next and finally the distillation room. The lower level was really just a long hall with seven small rooms whose doorways were covered by thick, lice-ridden sheets. This was where women, and men, provided sex in exchange for a safe place to live with free food and liquor. Their customers usually paid the barkeep their fee for however many minutes their barter afforded them. Almost all of these men and women had some form of sexually transmitted disease, most of which would have been easily curable with even a meager supply of antibiotics, but their customers hardly cared as long as they could forget the horrors of their lives in the flesh of others. Many of the customers paid with game they managed to trap in the woods. Game animals had thrived in a world where humans were as close to extinction as they had been for dozens of millennia and anyone with experience could trap a sizable amount. Of course the meat was filled with radioactive compounds from the animals drinking and eating from polluted sources, but cancer was a fact of life everyone had to deal with in this world. There was only one type of person that could use the services of a place such as this without payment of any kind.

Former TechCom soldiers.

Boomer sat in a corner opposite the doorway that was guarded by a pair of German Sheppard's and three men holding .50-caliber assault rifles like they knew how to use them. The large, square room was empty except for the bar and about six seats along one earthen wall. Boomer had wanted to ask them how they had gotten the formerly heavy-duty ordinance but had thought better of it. A T-850 could stroll into the place like the killing machine it was and kill them all without getting a scratch on its shielded, metallic butt.

It was the slow, daytime cycle for the bar when the patrons were either hiding in their own holes or trying to find game for one more night of excess. The only people in the room were Boomer and the guards. The barkeep and his cronies were in the stillroom making more of the noxious swill Boomer had a bottle of in his hand. He had been in places like this as little more than an indentured servant before a TechCom I.D. team had busted one down that had been operating in the middle of a small community. He had volunteered almost on the spot and they had accepted the ten-year old instantly. Boomer's first mission had been at the tender age of sixteen and he had been fighting ever since.

How old does that make me? Boomer wondered, and was a little shocked at the answer. "Twenty-three," he slurred quietly to himself.

For all but the last of those years he had never known the touch of a woman. He could have used his status as a soldier to get some companionship from the whores that operated discreetly on the larger TechCom bases but working in places like this one had forever soured him to that prospect. Most of the women he had served with had been killed, wounded, or transferred before he could get to know them. He had never really even liked most of his units that much to really get to know any of them. There was always a need for someone to lighten the dread and terror that was so often a part of a TechCom fighter's life and Boomer had filled that role adequately. It had never been anything more than an act though. Deep inside Boomer found it hard to really feel anything besides burning hatred. It didn't even matter what it was directed toward: himself, SkyNet, or the Hegemony. One of his D.I.'s had told him once that humanity in general was suffering from post-traumatic stress induced by the nuclear apocalypse and Boomer had truly believed him. There was nothing anyone could do about it though because the war ground on uncaring of the human psyche. Boomer had seen squadmates simply drop all their equipment and wander off into the woods. Sometimes, when they left in pairs, they would be found rutting like crazed animals in a stinking hole somewhere. He had also seen people go nuts and try to waste everything around them. One time a woman just walked off a cliff path their squad had been traversing. There were few shrinks left anymore and Boomer always assumed it was only a question of what killed you first: SkyNet or yourself.

Then he had met Alexis and his outlook on life had gradually changed. At first he had kept his distance, playing the squad clown alongside Valentine, but slowly he had warmed up to Alexis' quiet demeanor. She had been a genuinely cheerful, optimistic person that had helped keep the squad from falling into shell-shocked zombies kept going by their own momentum. Boomer had never lost the hatred that had seemed to be something he was born with, but Alexis had made the numb feeling disappear over the months he had known her. The first time they had made love Valentine had walked in on them and made a lewd suggestion. Boomer had never been so mad in all his life but Alexis had flipped Valentine off and cursed at him for the first time that Boomer could remember. It had been so unexpected that Boomer and Valentine both burst out laughing. Valentine had left and wished them a good time after that. It had been a good time, the best in his life, and Boomer had thought it would never end.

"Noone eva' said I was brigh'" he mumbled, taking another swig of the terrible liquor.

It had been nearly three weeks since he had lost Alexis. Once the squad had gotten dirt-side again Boomer had turned in all his gear and just walked away. They had settled down at a Tau base in North Carolina and two weeks later he had found the local Haven outpost. It had been a small Haven community of fifty people or so. They had said the outpost had been together for nearly twenty years and never been attacked by SkyNet. That was their reasoning for keeping it so small but Boomer secretly thought they were just a very cloistered community. This part of the Carolina's had a reputation for that among TechCom forces. Boomer hadn't cared about it one jot and promptly asked where the nearest watering hole was. The local police, a smattering of old men and boys wielding AR-50's of TechCom make, had directed him with almost grateful expressions. The last week had been a haze to Boomer. He knew he had not bathed at all and his clothing smelled like piss and alcohol but the numb feeling was back in spades.

Boomer must have passed out during his introspection because he blinked and the dogs were barking. The TechCom fighter in Boomer couldn't be denied even in his inebriated state and he was on his feet as quickly as he could manage. The room was fairly crowded, fifteen bodies in various states of drunkenness, but no one failed to notice the barking dogs. There was a rush to the lower level where there was a secondary exit that led to a tunnel that opened up nearly half a kilometer away. Boomer held his ground and waited to see what would happen.

Two TechCom soldiers, wearing the latest body armor and armed with plasma carbines, spoke to the guards. There was heated discussion before the barkeep, wielding an actual plasma rifle, came from behind the bar. After several minutes of additional conversation, during which time one soldier let the barkeep speak to someone over his wrist-com, the dogs followed one guard and soldier back up the rough-hewn steps to the surface. A lone figure came down the stairs a short time later and the barkeep hastily backed up with his plasma rifle trained on the shorter person. Words were spoken but Boomer hangover was too punishing for him to even pretend to give a shit at this point. The wasted former soldier slid back down the wall and breathed through his mouth to try to resist the urge to puke. When he finally had resisted the urge he was surprised to see the shape of someone standing beside him. There was a figure in familiar armor in front of him and Captain Perry didn't look happy to see him.

"Well, isn't this lovely, Boomer," Captain Perry growled, "I thought you were hurt or had done yourself and you were just wallowing in your own self-pity. Is that a good way to honor her memory, soldier?"

"Blow me, sir," Boomer chuckled and took a swig of his drink.

Captain Perry's face lost its perpetual scowl and his features softened, "We've all lost people, son, and I've lost a lot of good men to breakdowns. I hope we don't lose you too. The brass, SkyNet included, wants you for some kind of Special Project. Something about giving you the edge on those Paladin bastards that killed so many of our men. " Captain Perry tossed a limited wrist-com into his lap, "Think about it. They'll give you one week before they start screening other candidates. That thing next to you was sent to make sure you stay safe and whole if you do something stupid."

Captain Perry turned, his SFE's helmet in one hand, and headed for the door. He stopped at the doorway and hesitated before turning back around.

"You were one of the best I ever served with Boomer. Get your head right. We need you."

Then the Captain was gone and Boomer was left to puzzle out who was putting the wrist-com roughly onto his wrist. He looked up and saw reddish-brown hair and blue-green eyes.

"'Lexi," he whispered in disbelief.

"Negative, Sergeant Redman. I am T-X Unit Zero-One-Two. You have designated me as Twelve in the previous occasion when we were members of a three-man team consisting of this unit, yourself, a Tau shas'el."

Boomer shrugged and asked the next logical question, "Could ya get me another bottle of booze?"

"Affirmative."

Twelve scanned the room and settled her gaze on the barkeep. By this time the panicked patrons had cautiously filed back from the lower level. The T-X was carrying back a bottle of the noxious clear liquor when the barkeep addressed the room in general.

"That," the fat, dirty man in ragged, filthy clothes pointed at the Terminator in her "skin" of clean, black fatigues with disgust twisting his face, "-is a fakie. Our TechCom saviors-," that was said with almost the same amount of disgust as he had referred to Twelve, "-really do have an alliance with the machines. They told me that it can't even hurt people unless it's about to be blown up or something. So relax and enjoy yourselves. We probably won't even know its here 'cept when it's getting that freeloadin' bastard more free booze."

Boomer ignored the fat bastard and took the bottle Twelve offered him. The T-X stood at ease closer to the doorway to the storeroom. Slowly the loud, drunken conversations resumed and soon it seemed as if the bartender's prediction was true. Then one particularly bright, and drunk, fool was making his way to the lower level and decided to spit in Twelve's face. The fat glob of phlegm sailed majestically, for a glob of phlegm anyway, through the air and landed right in the center of Twelve's forehead. There was a moment of shocked horror, though the spitter had promptly disappeared to the lower level where he was undoubtedly making his escape, and it looked like many of the drunks were thinking of joining the fleeing man. Twelve simply stood there without wiping the spit from her brow. Boomer knew that her skin, for whatever use T-X's had for such liquids, would absorb the spittle. The patrons didn't know that and to their alcohol-addled brains it looked like it had simply crusted into her skin.

So a new tradition was started that night in the bar. When one of the locals would go downstairs they would spit at the Terminator. At first they missed more often than not because none dared get too close. But the next night many of them grew noticeable bolder and closed the distance. On the second night one actually grabbed the machine by the shoulders and spit full-force into her face. Twelve didn't blink even when most of it landed directly in her eye. She just stared impassively forward keeping silent guard over a passed-out Boomer. The man wasn't done yet and reached out to viciously wrench a breast, his eyes widening at how real it felt, before losing his nerve and going to seek the company of a real woman. The following day Boomer had caught the barkeep groping between the Terminator legs with his hand while his guards watched and laughed as he exclaimed over how real she felt. Boomer had mumbled 'atten-shun' under his breath and had burst into laughter when the T-X's legs had snapped together. The vise-like pressure had probably broken a finger or two from the way the barkeep had screamed. Boomer had slid down to the floor next to the convulsing man and told Twelve to stand at ease. After that incident groping a Terminator was more than most of the locals could do but slapping Twelve in the face was something they would do. When the first to do so got shocked by the automatic activation of the energy shield surrounding her they began to use switches cut from tree branches. Each used their full strength and barely managed to make the shield flicker around her. This abuse continued for four days and nights.

Boomer only acknowledged his guardian's existence when he needed more booze. Twelve, still acknowledging Boomer as her superior officer, promptly adhered to his requests each time. She had been a good teammate to Boomer and she continued to be so. A small part of him was grateful that someone had his back no matter what situation he found himself in.

Then the night came when a decision had to be made.

Boomer had just come in from relieving himself in the trench behind the bar; Twelve had never attempted to follow him after he ordered her not to the first time, when the sounds of an electric zap reached his ears. The barkeep and his patrons were arrayed in a tight, semi-circle around Boomer's corner. Sitting atop the bar was a gasoline-powered generator that looked as thought it had been in storage for a hundred years. Thick black power connectors snaked their way through the crowd and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach made Boomer rush into the corner. The loud zap and sparkle of electricity made the spectators cheer drunkenly at whatever sight they were witnessing. Boomer pushed his way through the crowd with venomous threats.

The barkeep had clipped a pair of seemingly benign food tongs to Twelve's fingers and hooked them up to jumper cables. The cables were connected to an electric battery that was kept juiced by the generator. Electricity still crackled through Twelve's hair as the stink of ozone rolled off of her. Boomer doubted if the voltage was high enough to constitute even moderate damage but something was happening. Twelve's left hand seemed to be twitching uncontrollably and she didn't seem to notice.

Boomer, on the low-end of one of his drinking bouts, pushed the barkeep roughly away. The heavy barkeep only moved half a meter before yelling hoarsely at the former soldier. Boomer had used almost his full strength and he was shocked to see how only three weeks had robbed him of so much physical strength.

"What are you bastards doing to her?" he shouted as he wrenched the tongs from her fingers. "Give me a diagnostic, Twelve."

"M-minor damage to neural net pathways. Repairs estimated at exactly one m-minute and sixteen seconds."

A rough, unnaturally brown hand spun Boomer around and a tall man with a stained reddish-brown beard got right up in his face.

"We're having a little fun with this fakie, you little shit," the man slurred, breathing his foul breath over Boomer. "I'm sick of you coming in here and drinkin' up our booze for nothin'. What gives you the right?"

Boomer, whose breath was probably worse, laughed in his face.

"What gives me the right?" Boomer ripped his heavy woolen shirt off and displayed his naked torso. A multitude of old burns, puncture wounds, and bad scraps crossed his chest. "These give me the right. I got these trying to give cowardly bastards like you a chance to live."

That was pushing his luck a little too far and he knew it when dirty-beard punched him flush in the nose. The crunch of cartilage was all encompassing inside Boomer's skull. A month ago he would have easily blocked and countered the punch but that was before he had killed his reflexes with copious amounts of liquor. The hate inside of him wouldn't let Boomer fall so easily though. He swayed backwards for a second before lunging forwards and catching the man with a fist right in the solar plexus. His opponent bent over at the waist and Boomer gave him a knee to the chin for his trouble. Pain blossomed in his kneecap at the impact and Boomer cursed himself for forgetting how much it hurt doing that without a kneepad on. Someone tackled him to the floor from his left and Boomer responded with a flurry of elbows to his assailant's gut. The drunk puked all over Boomer's side and the floor as they rolled to a halt against the wall. Boomer stood and one of the sober guards kicked him flush in the stomach. Now it was Boomer's turn to puke but not before he realized he was probably going to have to fight the entire room for a Terminator.

Out of nowhere Twelve was surging through the crowd and hurling men aside like they were matchsticks. Some fool, thinking it was another bar patron, turned with a vicious haymaker. Twelve blocked the punch with a forearm and there was an audible crack as the man's hand met Twelve's wrist. The other drunks caught on then and the room cleared out except for those rendered unable to do so by either Twelve or Boomer.

"Why didn't you do that when they were frying you?" Boomer asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"They never posed a serious threat to this unit. They did pose a substantial threat to you, Sergeant Redman, and my assignment is to keep your life functions at a sustainable level." Twelve cocked her head and gave Boomer a grin he would have recognized as his own if he hadn't been suffering from a hangover.

Boomer looked up at the diminutive killing machine solemnly before activating his wrist-com, "This is Sergeant Redman requesting immediate pick-up."

The figures moaning piteously, the man with the broken hand was shrieking at the top of his lungs, drew Boomer's attention.

"And a med-team."

Twenty-seven hours later Boomer found himself at TechCom's primary research facility in Alaska. He had been loaded onto a Tau dropship with Twelve and only two hours later had been deep in the wilds of Alaska. It could be a harsh place; Boomer had been there once before the Hegemony invasion, but it was definitely breath taking. The facility had been a Department of Defense operation pre-Judgement Day and half of it was located deep underground. The surface complex was sprawling enough, covering nearly five square kilometers with research buildings and testing grounds, without the six sub-levels that covered nearly as much territory. It had surprised Boomer how loath he was to separate himself from Twelve once they had touched down. Boomer had at first been taken through the Medical portion of the base where he had gone through rapid detoxification procedures. A decontamination shower, a bath, and then ten hours of uninterrupted sleep in a small barracks had followed the detox.

Boomer opened his eyes and tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head.

"What the hell have I been eating?" he mumbled, yawning hugely and starting slightly at the discovery that he was clothed only in a pair of skintight shorts.

"From what Twelve has told me," a familiar voice said from his left, "Not much of anything."

Boomer turned and got his first really good look at a Tau Fire Warrior outside of his armor. The Tau wore shorts akin to Boomer's and it was with some surprise that Boomer realized the Fire Warrior didn't have a nose.

"You don't have a nose," he blurted out unintentionally.

The Fire Warrior laughed, "Yet my sense of smell is probably three times better than yours."

Boomer grinned, "You're Templar aren't you?"

Templar nodded, "Yes I am, Boomer, but it is a name I adopted after my homeworld was destroyed."

Templar's face fell some then and a look of introspection fell across his features. Boomer couldn't help but study the Fire Warrior as he sat in the cot next to him. He had blue-gray skin and deep-set eyes that might have been dark gray or brown. His nasal cavity almost perfectly bisected his face and it was then that Boomer noticed Templar also didn't have ears that he could see. Templar idly lifted a foot to scratch it and Boomer yelped as he got a good look.

Templar turned to face him again, "Is something the matter, sergeant?"

"Y-y-you've got hooves!"

High, girlish laughter filled the room from Boomer's other side and he turned to goggle at Twelve. The Terminator's face was expressionless but what made Boomer goggle was the fact that she was topless and only wore shorts similar to the ones Boomer was wearing.

"Was that not the appropriate response to Sergeant Redman's declaration, shas'el?" Twelve asked Templar, her face as expressionless as ever.

Templar laughed, "Yes, it was Twelve. Maybe you should cover your chest. The sergeant seems to find it distracting."

Boomer turned away but not before he could see Twelve growing an almost sheer breast-band.

"Haven't you ever seen a Tau up-close, sergeant?" Templar asked.

"Yes, but I always thought it was just some kind of odd footwear. I never thought you guys actually had hooves."

Templar shrugged, "I have seen species that crawled on their bellies like slugs as they attempted to eat me alive."

The room lapsed into silence as Boomer digested that nugget of information. The three soldiers were in a small barracks with only six bunks and a small communal bathroom. There were no board games, not even a deck of cards, to take their minds off of what they had signed up for so naturally Boomer asked the one who would know the most.

"Hey, Twelve," Boomer stopped, another thought overriding his original question, "Maybe you should think of a name. I feel weird calling you Twelve all the time."

"What name do you suggest, sergeant?" the machine asked in a slightly perplexed voice.

"Whatever name you think suits you. I'm sure you've got hundreds in your databanks," Boomer grinned, "Speaking of databanks. Do you have any idea what this Operation: Triad is supposed to be all about."

"I apologize, Sergeant Redman, but my ether-link with SkyNet has been temporarily disconnected. That project is classified at Alpha-Black and my security clearance was not high enough upon reassignment to the project."

Boomer fumed, anger rising quickly, before he stamped it down with effort. Just then a cart piled with foodstuffs was pushed into the room by a pair of white-coats. The pair, two non-descript white men wearing heavy glasses, dropped the carts off, scribbled on their charts and promptly left the room via the double doors at the opposite end. Templar looked at Boomer and the TechCom sergeant shrugged before hopping off the bed in the direction of the cart that looked like it was for him. It was a veritable feast the likes of which Boomer had never had. Every kind of foodstuff he had ever eaten was represented, which really wasn't much, and many others he had only heard about through older survivors. The pancakes were as good as his TechCom drill instructors had said they were and the syrup that covered them was even better. Boomer didn't even use a plate and simply ate right off the trays whatever food caught his eye. Templar was more sedate and organized his food, a cornucopia of colors that made Boomer slightly nauseous even to glance at it, on a single plate. The veteran Fire Warrior brought his plate and glass to his cot where he ate as though he were at a state function. Twelve simply sat, reviewing the millions of permutations of names she had in her databanks, while subconsciously observing her organic teammates behavior for assimilation into her emulator. Once Templar and Boomer had their fill they lay back on their bunks.

"So…" Boomer began, trying to find a topic of conversation, "Where's everybody from?"

"I was manufactured at Automated Weapons Factory D-Four-Five-One-Three," Twelve answered promptly.

"I was born on a small colony on the outskirts of Tau Imperial space. What about you, Boomer?"

"I don't really know. My first memory is of my mother running away, holding me close, and the sounds of men chasing her. She died a year later and I never knew who my father was or where I was born."

"What happened then?" Templar asked, and that was how each of the three began to tell the stories of their lives.

Several hours later, only a short time after Templar had begun to speak, the two white-coats came back with a Tau between them. This Tau was subtly different from Templar in coloration and body structure. The new Tau was more earth-toned and shorter. He also seemed much more muscular than Templar despite the fact that he looked as much a geek as his human counterparts. It was easy to see that Templar moved like a predator whereas this Tau moved with much less confidence.

"Sergeant Redman, you will accompany me for your preliminary tests," the lead human, a gangly man with scraggly gray-brown hair and dark brown eyes under bushy brows said.

The Tau took Templar and the other human took Twelve. The three looked at each other before all three shrugged in eerily similar gestures. Their three guides scribbled furiously on their charts as they exited the room. Boomer was taken through a series of medical tests, most of which he only had a vague idea of what they were supposed to check, but he submitted to them all. The final piece of diagnostic equipment that was used on him was a cylindrical tube that they slid him into like a corpse. Boomer's face was uncovered but he almost panicked when the tube shrank around him and what felt like a million tiny probes were injected into his skin. They had placed a broad circle covered in sensor nodes around his head once he had calmed down somewhat. It seemed like hours passed while his muscles contracted, sometimes painfully, of their own volition. When it was over Boomer was helped back to the barracks by two white-coats. His muscles had never felt this wrung out even during P.T. when he was in basic training.

Templar had already finished his tests and was laying motionless on his back as Boomer flopped into his bed.

"They put you in a tube?" Boomer asked, as he settled into a more comfortable position.

"Yes. I take it you received the same treatment?"

"Yeah. I feel used like a baseball bat."

"Baseball?"

"A game humans used to play. Real popular. That reminds me. You sounded a little different than on the ship. Were you talking English then?"

Templar laughed, "No. The SFE's were built with a universal translator."

"Then how come I can understand you now?"

"The language was in my head, didatic memory nanytes, and it just took a little practice to get better at it. All Tau are now expected to spend at least two… hours a…" Templar seemed to have trouble converting Tau systems of measurement to human and Boomer couldn't blame him. Boomer still had trouble converting to the metric system. "-day speaking the primary language of this world."

"What the hell's a nanyte?"

"A machine smaller than a blood cell."

The two soldiers turned as the doors to the barracks opened to reveal Twelve and her white-coat escort. Behind the escort marched a single T-850. Twelve was being wheeled in on a large metallic stretcher.

"What happened to you, Twelve?" Boomer asked as the T-850 deposited the smaller Terminator unit on the bunk to Boomer's left.

"Technicians were testing the power output of my servomotors. At one hundred, seventy-five point six-two percent the servomotors in my legs initiated automatic shutdown. That shutdown resulted in cascade failure in all of my servomotors. This failure was not foreseen when the original code for auto-shutdown was written."

"They did not repair you?" Templar asked curiously.

"Negative. My servomotors will reactivate in approximately seven minutes and sixteen seconds."

There were several more moments of silence before Boomer could stand it no longer.

"Templar, what were you saying before they wrung us out? Something about a campaign against ogres? "

Templar chuckled, "No, Boomer, the human term for the species is ork. It was the Trial by Fire where I was to gain the lowest rank of a line Fire Warrior. They were attacking one of the empire's fledgling colonies and we had been sent to drive them back. I've been as afraid as that day several times in my life but the first time you feel it is a unique experience. We touched down-"

Boomer floated in a cylindrical tank filled with a viscous, transparent fluid with a breathing mask on his face. Surrounding the tank were computer consoles manned by earth caste Tau and humans in their brilliantly white labcoats. At least the pain had finally stopped. The last two days had been filled with lectures about the inherent risks involved in the project as well as an endless schedule of protein supplement, antibiotic, and nanyte injections meant to prepare him for the primary treatment. It had been some shock to realize that he was being used as the first test subject for not one but two experiments. Today was the big day. Templar and Twelve, she still had not chosen a name, had been separated from him for their own enhancement procedures. Twelve was probably undergoing the least risky procedure even though he had heard a tech say they were going to replace her cranium and transfer her A.I. code to an improved neural net chip. Boomer could imagine any number of things that could go wrong with that operation alone.

"We are ready to begin, sergeant," the woman who was in charge of the human portion of Project: Evolution told him through the speakers implanted in the tank.

The fluid absorbed most of the sound but he gave her a thumb's up.

A heavy lethargy slowly overtook him and then he ponderously blinked.

When his eyes opened again it was as if the world were in slow motion. He was convulsing, Boomer could just make out his fist convulsively striking the clear material that made up the tank, but everything else was moving as though he were watching a slow-motion replay of battle footage.

Good god, look at him go. The suspension should be preventing any sudden movement. How the hell is he doing that!

The thought was another's, Boomer knew that instantly, and he thought it was one of the lab technicians.

"Somebody get HS nanytes into his motor cortex, stat! Don't stand there gawking! Give me that control! Stamniski, not the cardiac-specialized nanytes, you jackass! Hurry before he gets permanent brain damage!" Dr. Yurikov took command decisively and Boomer blinked again.

This time when he opened his eyes it was all moving at normal speed. The liquid around him was a terrifying shade of red but everything was moving as it should have been. There was also pain that made Boomer snarl like a beast through his breath mask. He struggled to take the mask off and looked down to discover heavy alloy manacles restrained his arms. They hadn't been there before but with a fierce glare something in his head flared to life. Thick streams of blood floated up before his face but all that mattered was the manacles releasing. There was a flash of light and the manacle on his left arm burst into a million tiny fragments. Again voice/thoughts came to him through the transparent alloy.

Jesus, look at those EEG readings!

I hope he doesn't get out 'cause he looks pissed.

There he goes again and I was gonna get laid tonight, damnit.

"Triple the sedative dose! Administer five hundred CC's of coagulant accelerant! Hurry or he'll bleed out! "

Boomer blinked again and when he opened his eyes he was looking up at the bright overheads of the underground barracks they had been moved to after their preliminary tests. Every part of his body ached and it felt like a million machines were connected to him. He also felt slightly… wrong. His vision was blurry but he could hear and smell things he had never imagined. Boomer knew there were at least seven people in the room and it was filled with machinery. Boomer turned his head to his left and saw Templar wrapped head-to-toe in some kind of elastic bandage. Large spots of blue, his blood Boomer knew, had soaked through the bandages along his arms, legs, and torso. To the right Twelve stood as immobile as a statue looking right at Boomer. There was nothing in her eyes though and that bothered Boomer more than he would ever admit.

"He's awake, sir," someone said and the wavering outline of a human in gray-green fatigues appeared above him.

"I'm glad to see you made it, soldier."

"General Conner, sir!" Boomer tried to raise a hand to salute but found that he was restrained from doing so.

When he tried there was a screech of bending metal. Boomer looked down and was a little confused at the restraint on his right wrist. The shackle's chain only had one regulation length link on it while the rest had been stretched almost to the breaking point.

"There's no need for that, Boomer. Hell, I should be saluting you."

Boomer chuckled as he gently eased his arm down.

"I can't see that well, sir."

General Conner hesitated before answering, "Well, your eyes are bleeding, Boomer. So're your ears and nose. Doc's'll have that fixed in no time."

Someone put something liquid and soothing in his eyes that cleared them up. He saw that Captain Perry was standing beside General Conner. A Tau Ethereal and another Fire Warrior were standing at the foot of an unconscious Templar's bed. A T-X unit sat immobile on Twelve's bunk with a hand in the small of Boomer's partner's back.

I can't have a fakie for a partner; the squad would never let him forget it.

"You should get some rest, son. The doctor's say you need it."

"Yeah," Captain Perry spoke up in his gravelly, deep voice, "You've got lots of training to get to after you get over this bug."

"Are those orders, sirs?"

"Yes."

"You'd better not ask that again."

Boomer fell back into a deep slumber with a wide grin on his face.

"Are they going to make it?" Captain Perry asked the three heads of Project: Evolution.

Doctor Yurikov was a woman in her sixties that had somehow managed to live through Judgement Day, the Machine-Human War, and the Hegemony Invasion. She was tall, thin, and had very stern gray eyes. She was in charge of the Terran division of the project and the last week had been harrowing if the wild strands of gray hair protruding from her normally neat bun were any indication. Her human counterpart was in charge of the Terminator division and was relatively young, in his forties, with an even more youthful face. Doctor Stone was tall, thin, and had a perpetually focused air. It was a trait most of the scientists under the employ of Sci/Tech had. The dark circles under his already dark brown skin gave testament to the fact that the week had not gone well for him either. Fio'o Vran'ti was the only one of the three that still looked excited but even his bland earth caste features seemed tired.

"I think I can speak for us all here," Yurikov said with a slight Russian accent. She continued when the others nodded their approval. "They will make it but it was close. T-X Unit Oh-One-Two, Twelve as Sergeant Redman and Shas'el Templar call her, almost blew up the entire complex when we tried to install her new power core. Both Sergeant Redman and Shas'el Templar were clinically dead multiple times during the re-sequencing."

"Is that supposed to give us confidence?" Shas'O Kais asked.

Kais, Perry, and TX-002 sat with the project heads at a long rectangular table in the primary conference room for this level. Perry fixed each of the scientists with a stare that said he was in total agreement with the Fire Warrior.

"That was only to give you an idea of the ordeal they have gone through. With the data we have gathered, and will continue to gather, we are sure we can eventually minimize the risks to less than a one percent mortality rate." Fio'o Vran'ti came to his colleague's defense.

"Once they passed the critical stage, the two organic members of the test subjects began to recover at an extraordinary rate," Doctor Yurikov began again, "The epidermal tearing that Shas'el Templar experienced has healed at nearly ten times the normal rate of a Tau Fire Warrior without the benefit of medical nanytes. Sergeant Redman's rate of cerebral hemorrhaging has regressed at what I would have considered an impossible rate before I joined this project. I don't know why Unit Oh-One-Two is not responding to her start up code."

"That unit is going through millions of permutations of names at the request of Sergeant Redman," TX-002 told them, "Once the other two regain consciousness she will self-activate. I just said she. I just said I."

Then, much to the surprise of everyone at the table, the Terminator started giggling uncontrollably.

Boomer stretched slowly at the starting line of the obstacle course the doctors wanted the three of them to run. The team was dressed in identical blue-green bodysuits festooned with lightweight sensor pads that only Khory, the uncommon name that TX-012 had decided on, could detect. Templar had been the first to wake up and actually stay awake for longer than a few minutes. Khory had booted up a short time later and, almost excitedly, told the Fire Warrior the name she had chosen. The Terminator's voice had awoken Redman and he had been secretly relieved to see them both conscious.

The following week had been spent eating copious amounts of protein-laden meals, diagnostic tests for all three, and light exercises. The out-of-body feeling that Boomer and Templar had first experienced had gradually begun to fade but the evidence that they were the subjects of an experiment was plain for anyone to see. Boomer had grown six centimeters taller and Templar, who had been only slightly taller than Boomer, had grown a dozen. Boomer's physique had filled out a little more than before, but that could have been due to the fact that he was malnourished for the better portion of his life. Templar had the musculature of a jungle cat and he moved with the heavy grace of one. Even Khory's exoskeleton was larger now to accommodate all of her modifications. She and Boomer were now about the same height and Templar was not really much taller. None of them would be a match for a Paladin in stature but they had closed the gap a little. Templar's skin had changed from a gray-blue to an almost iridescent shade of red. The exterior was soft but felt like it only covered up a very hard substance underneath. The Tau's eyes were less sunken in his head but at least they had stayed the same color.

"You guys," Khory shot Boomer a look she had learned from Templar, "It's a figure of speech, Khory, damnit. Why am I always getting my chops busted around here? I could be somewhere sippin' martini's or something."

"What the hell's a martini?" Templar asked, looking up from his own calisthenics.

"An alcoholic beverage," Khory supplied, observing the wide corridor they were expected to run in less than a minute.

It was exactly four hundred and fifty-seven meters in length and she doubted if her organic comrades could do it. She had already made the decision not to leave them behind no matter what the penalty might be. At the end of the corridor was a wall ten meters high. A bar was located five meters above the floor two meters in front of the wall. There was a small platform in the center of the bar and another bar three meters above the platform.

"We're ready to go when you guys are," the voice of a lab technician addressed them over the P.A. system.

"We'll let Boomer dictate the pace, Khory," Templar said, his voice not as commanding as it once had been, but Boomer thought it didn't need to be. The Fire Warrior was older than he and Khory, had seen far more engagements than they had, and was technically an officer despite the blossoming camaraderie between the three.

"Affirmative," Boomer fixed her with his own look, "I meant to say; no problem."

Boomer grinned as Templar gave the hidden camera the thumbs-up gesture. A bullhorn blasted them from nowhere; making Templar and Boomer wince painfully due to their newly sensitive hearing, but Boomer shot off like a rabbit regardless. His acceleration was so great that he was nearly ten meters ahead of them when Khory and Templar started. They easily caught up though and together they came to the wall.

"Time, Khory," Templar said, his breath coming easily to his vast surprise and pleasure.

"Thirty-nine point three-five seconds."

"Can you make that jump straight up, Khory?" Templar asked, eyeing the obstacle.

"Unknown. I will make the attempt now."

Khory walked briskly over to stand next to the wall. She bent her knees partially and sprang upward in a flash of blue-green jumpsuit. Khory hit the ceiling, nearly fifteen meters up, with a metallic clang before gracefully flipping in the air to land on the level above them.

"Extend me your hand as far as it will go," Templar told her and Khory promptly slid to her belly beside the drop.

Her arm extended a meter but her polymimetic skin stayed fixed to her hand.

"SkyNet has forbidden me to use my shifting abilities. Can you make the jump, Templar?"

Templar looked at Boomer and shrugged. He moved to a position similar to the one Khory had assumed and bent until his butt almost touched the floor. Templar pushed off the ground with all his might and hit the ceiling hard enough to crack the concrete. He was so stunned that Khory had to snag him around the ankle as he fell headfirst to the ground.

"You alright?" Boomer asked worriedly, wincing at how huge the crack in the ceiling was.

"Fine," Templar replied as if he could scarcely believe he was uninjured. "Can you reach my hand?"

Boomer shrugged, "I'll give it a shot."

Boomer crouched in the same manner as Templar had and pushed off with all his might. His fingers barely brushed Templar's before he hit the floor. It was somewhat embarrassing that the others so easily jumped ten meters straight up and Boomer couldn't even stretch his fingers to reach a little over seven meters up the wall. His vertical jump, at least three meters by his calculations, was probably the highest of any human on the planet but it was still slightly humiliating. Boomer gave forth the tiny bit of extra effort and he managed to firmly grasp Templar's four-fingered hand. Khory effortlessly hoisted them to the next level.

The three stood without a word and looked towards the next obstacle. It had been described to them so they knew what they had to do. Three panels, two meters tall, rested in tracks in the floor. They had to push the panels together to the other end of the room while the technicians monitoring their exercises increased the weight of each panel. As they approached Boomer noted with some dismay that he and Templar's panels already said sixty kilos. Khory's digital display read at a thousand kilograms.

"On my count," Templar said as each placed their palms in the indentations already on the panels. "One, two, one-"

Together they pushed the panels forward and slowly the kilo count on each of theirs increased. Boomer was sweating and trembling slightly by the time the panel reached two hundred and sixty kilograms. Thankfully his stopped at three hundred kilograms but he watched with awe as Templar and Khory's kept rising. Templar began having trouble at five hundred kilograms and Khory's servomotors began to make audible noise at five thousand kilograms. Both of theirs stopped a short while after that. By this time they were only halfway down the hall. They only had five more meters to go when the strain became too much for Boomer. The panels were connected and the two wings began to bend when Boomer didn't raise his foot on the next count.

"I can't do it guys," then the digital counter on his panel lowered by twenty kilograms.

The beating drum of his heart in his ears as he cleared the last five meters was not enough to drown out his shame at not being as tough as his comrades. A part of Boomer accepted the fact that he was only human and his comrades were definitely not but he was no less cutting in his self-recrimination. Khory and Templar recovered in less than a minute after the strain and Boomer recovered shortly after. Even his quick recovery was not enough to make him forget about his failure in the last obstacle.

"Come on, Boomer," Templar said, together he and Khory helped the sergeant to his feet. "Last one to go and then we can get something to eat."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Boomer replied, tonelessly.

The three rounded a corner and into a room out of a D.I.'s wet dream. It was a cacophony of cushioned pylons that rolled in random patterns in tracks along the floor, padded pistons that shot from the walls, electric stun rounds buzzed their way across the room from every direction, trap doors opened at random places on the floor. It was fifteen meters by fifteen meters of pure hell.

All they had to do was get one person across the room to hit the trigger than would deactivate all the traps.

"Any ideas, Templar?" Boomer asked, his voice as detached as he could make it.

"None. You?"

"Nada."

"Khory?"

"There is a route with a sixty-seven point three percent chance of success. I believe I am fast enough to do it."

"Go for it, Khory."

The Terminator darted out onto the floor so fast that Boomer's eyes could barely keep up. She dodged, rolled, and flipped through the course. Ten meters in she must have hit a trip-line, or stepped on a hidden trigger, because four automated stun turrets homed in on her.

"Back, back, back, back!" Templar shouted, and Khory instantly complied.

By the time she made it back several rounds had caught her in the back and sides. Khory's hands twitched uncontrollably for several seconds while she looked at them with a frown of concentration.

"Those were ion bolts."

"I'll try this time," Templar offered and he only made it five meters before stepping too close to the left wall.

A piston shot out and jabbed him squarely in the ribs. Templar rubbed his side as if it had been a mild ache while the piston couldn't retract into the wall because it had bent slightly from the force of the impact. Templar's hesitation cost him when a pylon whipped into him so hard he bounced back into a trap door. He sprang out of it seconds before it closed and rolled his way back to Boomer and Khory.

"You okay?" Boomer asked, helping the Fire Warrior to his feet.

"Fine. Frustrated but okay."

"I guess it's my turn."

"Maybe we should give this some more time?" Templar suggested, gripping Boomer by the bicep. "That piston could have broken my ribs and those stun rounds did a number on Khory."

Boomer snarled, "Are you saying I'm weak or something? That I can't hack it?"

"No, no, but-"

"Then I'm going," Boomer said, roughly disengaging his arm from Templar.

Boomer was so focused on getting across the room that he didn't notice that everything had slowed down again. He dodged every pylon, even jumped off a piston as it shot from a wall to block his way, nimbly avoided the automated gun triggers at the ten meter mark, and jumped the last three meters to the end as a trap door opened beneath his very feet. He pressed the button ending the exercise and the world sped up again.

"How'd you do that?" Templar asked, his eyes wide as he walked across the almost unnaturally calm room.

"I just did it?" Boomer said, shrugging expressively.

"But you weren't moving faster than Khory or I. You just avoided everything. Even when stun rounds were coming at your back you dodged them. How did you do that?"

"Boomer, your nose is bleeding." Khory said, stepping closer to Boomer as though he might faint any minute.

Boomer put a hand to his nose and encountered a warm stickiness that seemed to be gushing like a geyser.

"Hmmph," he grunted just before he lost consciousness.

General Perry, newly promoted to head of the Special Forces Division of the Trinity Interstellar Marine Corps., stepped into the observation booth from which the three heads of Project: Evolution were watching their charges. It had been nearly two weeks since he had last visited this project. His new title and rank had required him to spend his time between this and general special weapons projects for his division. The room was ovular with a large screen opposite the door he had entered by. Technicians were stationed at seven terminals inside a niche in the center of the floor. Perry walked around this niche to where the three scientists were watching furiously fast activity on the main viewscreen. The general noted with some amusement how quickly the scientists and staff operating this base had become used to clean living. He idly wondered if any of them resented the Tau drones that accomplished much of it. Perry himself often had to remember not to frown suspiciously at the little bastards as they went about their business.

"General Perry," Yurikov turned to face him and nod before turning back to the screen. The other two were so engrossed in monitoring their portable datapads and the screen that he doubted they would have noticed if someone had detonated a fusion charge in the center of the room.

"Doctor," he greeted her, searching for what had caught their attention on the screen.

Sergeant Redman, the Terminator, and Shas'el Templar were in a small gymnasium bare of anything but a practice mat. Redman and Templar were engaged in furious combat, armed with only stun batons, against the similarly armed T-X unit.

"That hardly seems fair, does it?" Perry asked, knowing from experience how terribly powerful the new Terminator models were. It was almost impossible to beat them with a plasma baton unlike the older T-800's.

The three chuckled slightly as he said that.

"Watch," Yurikov suggested, bending over slightly to better see a reading she was getting from the console below her.

Perry did watch as the Fire Warrior punched the Terminator in the gut. His eyes almost bulged out of his head when the Terminator was lifted at least two meters off its feet. In retaliation the T-X snapped a knee viciously into the Tau's chin. Templar flipped in the air and landed hard on his belly. Perry would have said he was out of the fight but the Fire Warrior was back on his feet almost instantly. Something flew through the air and kicked the Terminator in the back while it was still in mid-air. The Terminator flew toward a waiting Templar but was not out of surprises. TX-012 flipped in mid-flight, avoiding a swing of the stun baton that would have probably tossed it aside like a baseball, and cupped Templar's chin from behind his back. The two's bodies sprang out as the Terminator's momentum was arrested by Templar. They hit the mat hard and TX-012 was the first up. Boomer ran at her and swung his baton with blinding speed. The Terminator swayed to the side, grabbed Boomer's outstretched arm, swung him around once, and then launched him into the air to land with bone-breaking force five meters away. Perry was about to chew into the scientists when Boomer rolled away as the Terminator landed where he had been a second before after jumping the five-meter long gap between them.

"As you can see the re-sequencing is a resounding success," Yurikov entered in commands on her console and a small window popped up at the foot of the screen.

Perry watched the trio's performance on the small obstacle course that had been set up for their initial trials. It was hard to believe what he was seeing and Boomer's performance left him speechless.

"TX-Oh-One-Two, Khory was the name she finally chose by the way, is operating at approximately three hundred percent above her previous combat efficiency. We've upgraded everything from her power core to her behavioral emulator. Sergeant Redman has seen significant improvements in his physical and mental capabilities. As you saw he has demonstrated a degree of psionic potential." Yurikov paused before continuing in a more quiet voice, "He almost died from extensive cerebral hemorrhaging after completing that obstacle course. He was out of danger by the time our medical team got to him though. Redman's healing capabilities are far more efficient and effective than a normal human. O'Vran'ti?"

"Templar has undergone the most physically dramatic transformation. We have seen an increase in his physical capabilities that we are still attempting to properly gauge. His sub-dermal layer has the durability of some of our weaker inorganic alloys and his bones are composed of a substance we have yet to identify. It is a compound made up of over ten different elements in a composition that I thought was impossible in a Tau. His mental facilities are generally improved and I believe he is somewhat more open to the human's influence than he was before the re-sequencing. But what really excites us is that Templar's cellular regeneration has achieved an efficiency rate so high that we believe the aging process has slowed down by nearly seventy-five percent."

"So they're ready for Project: Triad," Perry interrupted before he could be regaled with even more technical jargon.

Yurikov turned to him with a small, slightly condescending, grin, "Those eggheads in Triad will mess themselves when they see what we've got for them."

Boomer touched the metal circle nested at the base of his skull with a slight shudder as the elevator slowly descended into the interior of the base. He, Templar, and Khory were being escorted by Doctor Markin, a bald, thin, sixty-something, black man who was the head of Project: Triad, to the experimental weapons lab. This time they had been allowed to dress in black fatigues and Boomer felt strange after going so long wearing relatively skimpy attire.

Boomer had just gotten used to the new body Project: Evolution had given him when his team had been given to Project: Triad without a second glance. Another week of increasingly intense physical training, mental and psychological evaluations had followed. Then the time had come for their artificial enhancements. Boomer and Templar had gone through the surgeries, Boomer more so than Templar as the Tau needed little in the way of physical enhancements, while Khory had been given several new upgrades to her combat processor that the Triad scientists had designed. There had been much less pain after the Triad surgery and they had been back on their feet after only forty-eight hours. Boomer only had received a nanyte treatment that strengthened his bones by adding inorganic compounds into the matrix itself. Templar's bones were already significantly stronger than they had been and the Triad scientists had decided it was better to leave them alone since they still had no idea just how the Tau's bones had been created. Boomer and Templar had each received ocular implants that gave them a range of vision almost as varied as Khory's. Nanytes coursed through their bodies in hordes making their biological processes even more efficient than the genetic re-sequencing had done. Thanks to Project: Evolution the nanytes could push Templar's and Boomer's bodies to further extremes than would have been safe for normal humans or fire caste. Their reflexes, speed, strength, hand-eye coordination, just about everything they did had improved significantly even from after their participation in Project: Evolution. The cybernetic enhancement that Boomer had minded the most was a contact-neural-interface-jack they had implanted at the base of his skull. They had said he and Templar's brains were configured differently than the Triad scientists had been prepared for and they were not confident enough to do anything more than allow them the less intrusive, and far less efficient, CNI.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened at the bottom of the lift. This far into the base security was light and only a pair of T-850's guarded the elevator doors. Doctor Markin passed them without a moment's glance and went down the long, empty corridor that ended in a door marked as 'Experimental Weapons Research Lab One'. Dr. Markin continued his march and the doors opened a second before he struck them.

"I've got to get that fixed," he said, absently," Sometimes I think SkyNet wanted someone to run into the door when it made that code."

Boomer shot Templar and Khory a look that made them both smile. It amazed Boomer how easily Khory was picking up organic mannerisms and it was a little unnerving that she picked most of them up from him and Templar. The lab had a high, vaulted ceiling and was absolutely cavernous. It was divided into large blocks that were either divided up into sections or were used as test ranges. Dr. Markin led them straight down the middle corridor, past walls where all manner of noises were coming from, to a door marked as Lab Two. Again the door didn't open until the doctor was almost through. Lab Two was smaller but had a large open area that was obviously used for weapons testing. Low barricades, twisted skeletal remains of targets, and black scorch marks left no doubt. Set just in front of the test range was a table with several unfamiliar and familiar weapons on it. Standing in front of them was a militant looking researcher that Boomer figured had been in Sci/Tech for a long time.

"Lieutenant Hudson will provide a demonstration of the weapons that will be available to you as a Triad squad. Lieutenant," Dr. Markin said.

Lieutenant Hudson was a short, slender man with gray hair and brown eyes. He nodded to the doctor and picked up the weapon that looked like a plasma carbine.

"This is a plasma carbine, version five," Boomer gave him a disbelieving glance, "Yes, I meant five. We have several version designs that proved unsuitable for the work you will be doing. Those were given to other R&D divisions. Version five fires bolts of concentrated plasma with the equivalent mega-joule charge of a Covenant shade emplacement. An independent miniature power core, much like the one in Oh-One- I meant to say Khory," he finished after each of them glared at the scientist, "–has been added to the weapon so the odds of the weapon running out of ammo are astronomically low. A holo-cam mounted in the sight allows for remote firing once you have linked it to your battle-suits HUD's."

Hudson set his sights on a Hunter shield and depressed the trigger. Searing balls of plasma were ejected from the weapon's muzzle at twenty rounds a second. It only took half a minute of firing before the Hunter's shield had grown a molten hole in its center.

"Version five also has four secondary weapon modules besides the under-barrel multi-type grenade launcher. Rail-rifle mode." Hudson quickly and methodically added a mini-electromagnet firing prong to the barrel and slipped a small clip into the side of the weapon near the forward grip. He fired and the slowly cooling hole in the center of the shield blew outward in semi-molten chunks. "A mini-rocket, R-7 PAK size, launcher," this time the lieutenant replaced the entire under-barrel grenade launcher with a longer, bulkier device. A target of a Covenant Wraith appeared two hundred meters down-range and the lieutenant fired. The detonation was slightly less powerful than a Boom-Stick but not by much. "A particle cannon attachment." This time the process took nearly thirty seconds and the carbine barely looked the same. Two Hunter shields popped out of the floor in a row. Hudson pressed the firing stud and a wide beam of crackling white light blew both shields into sparkling motes of light. "And a spotter for artillery and orbital bombardment."

"Next is the Individual Multi-Purpose Plasma Cannon," Hudson strained to pick up the huge weapon that looked larger than his entire body, " It's meant to be used by Terminators and is difficult for Tau or humans to handle comfortably. It has all the bells and whistles of the carbine but with a two hundred percent increase in destructive capability."

Hudson set the cannon down and picked up a thick cylinder.

"Might as well show them the upgraded Tau Plasma Blade as well."

Hudson nodded and picked up the Tau short sword that Templar always praised. The lieutenant went out onto the testing range and what looked like a razor thin energy whip appeared from the handle.

"The particle whip emits a thin particle beam capable of slicing through all but the densest alloys. There are materials that are resistant to molecular dissolution, and a full list is given in the training manual. The Tau Plasma Blade has been given an upgrade that switches its plasma sheath to a microscopic one of particle energy. This upgrade gives the blade phenomenal penetration."

Hudson deactivated the whip and toggled the plasma blade. He sliced across the chest of an armored Brute and the blade merely scored the metal. Then the visible corona of plasma energy disappeared and Hudson swung again. The entire upper body of the Brute figure fell to the floor.

"Follow me and I'll show you the armor we have designed for your Triad."

Dr. Markin passed through a door labeled as Lab Three where technicians studied schematics as well as pieces of sophisticated components that only Khory had any chance of recognizing. This Lab was smaller than the other two but not by much. The next room was even smaller inside sat three full suits of Exoskeletal armor. One set of armor was over two meters tall. Each set of armor was intricately muscled as though they were living beings. The helmets were the same featureless ones as SFE, V1's, only slightly more tear-drop shaped.

"These are prototype Triad BattleSuits." A holo-projection of the three suits of armor slowly walking through a battlefield appeared in front of them, "Each such is composed of multiple layers of microthin armor. The feature I'm most proud of is the artificial Exoskeletal musculature. There is not a single servomotor present in the battlesuits designed for organic use. Once properly connected the enervation of your muscle tissue will transfer directly to the suit's giving you a potential three hundred percent increase in strength and speed." The images on the screen tossed aside their enemies like they were rag-dolls and the largest suit even hurled aside the image of a Covenant Wraith like it was nothing. "Khory's is the largest suit, which was partially based off of Crisis BattleSuit technology, and is equipped with heavy-duty servomotors. Dual-layered shielding provides excellent protection from all but the most powerful of Covenant infantry weaponry. Your CNI implants will allow you to command the suits with your thoughts, completely eliminating the need for gauntlet computer pads. They still are a part of the suit but will be rendered as a back-up system. The standard battle-suit is capable of carrying enough ammunition for your various weapon attachments to last through several separate engagements without resupply. There are also numerous equipment slots for an additional fifteen kilograms of weight. An anti-gravity thruster on each boot as well as at each hip will allow rapid-transport across a combat zone."

Now the hologram had the three suits making fantastic leaps over a battlefield spewing death from each arm, the largest even had shoulder-mounted missile pods, and Boomer couldn't help but to feel a tiny twinge of excitement.

"Boomer and Templar's suits are capable of having an A.I. construct, purely code unlike Khory, partner their battlesuit with them," Boomer shot the scientist a look, "Only by their request of course. The suits do not require an A.I. construct to function but the construct would optimize efficiency. There are a myriad of other technical enhancements over the ones you three may be used to and they are available for review. I have one question first. Who wants to try theirs first?"

Each of them stepped forward at the same time.