++August 24th 0200 Hours++

The howl of enemy aircraft only got worse as we made our way out of the canal. Naomi led the way, and kept us to the shadows as best we were able. Through cluttered alleyways and narrow side streets we skittered our way further and further from the still burning ruins of the Omega building. Conversation was non-existent, with even Viking remaining entirely silent as we stalked towards our destination. I keep thinking about Chance, unable to get the image of the silver spike jutting from his black armor out of my mind. In some ways I'm thankful it didn't hit his heart, and we at least got to say goodbye but… It seems such a selfish thing to be thankful for. Would Chance have rather gone painlessly than have to endure the trauma of knowing your end is arriving, and you're powerless to stop it?

I wonder how I will go. How would I like the end to be? Honestly, now that I am thinking about it, it surprises me I've never given more thought to it, considering my profession. I guess I've always imagined it would just… happen; I wouldn't see it coming at all, and one second everything would just shut off. Like the flick of a switch. Over the years I've seen plenty of people die like that: someone peeks around the wrong corner, or steps in the wrong spot. Sudden deaths where even the victim doesn't have time to process what's happened before it's over and done with.

But I've also seen a great deal more that went like Chance, where the person is merely injured and left to wait for the end they know is coming. For me though, the worst is when their mind is unable, or unwilling to process the extent of the damage. Someone will ask you how bad it is when half their body is shredded by shrapnel; while they're missing limbs and organs. I've seen a man take a bullet to the neck, clutch his bleeding wound, remark how lucky he is that it didn't hit him in the head, and then fall down dead from arterial blood loss five seconds later. For some reason that look of confusion, of utter bewilderment, is what haunts me the most.

I try to push these thoughts away, and for a time they retreat and allow me to focus but everything I do feels mechanical. I don't really feel like I'm choosing where to put my feet, or where to point my rifle: It's like I'm running on autopilot. That is until Alice's smooth voice breaks up the monotony of our progress.

"The target building is directly overhead." She informs us.

I blink, and realize I have no memory of the streets we've been down. When I look back the way we came I see just another dark and war-torn street, indistinguishable from all the others. The target building is a parking structure. A multileveled garage whose plain, practical construction blends into any cityscape. A sign of neon remains half-attathced to the building, the top bracket having broken off. It still blinks: a large, hollow arrow with the word PARKING written inside it, bends towards the entrance.

"It's a parking lot?" Viking questions.

"Yes. This is the oldest district of New Alexandria." Alice replies. "My earliest records show an emergency bunker built here, though its infrastructure is outdated and it was closed by city ordinance in 2404."

I look at the parking structure with a skeptical eye. Nothing about it would indicate a sinister purpose, but I suppose that's the best strategy for hiding. "And that's where the insurgents are?"

"All data points to that outcome." The AI concludes.

"Come on." Naomi says, and waves us forward.

We cross the street with as much energy as we can muster, and perform half-hearted sweeps in either direction for Covenant. I haven't heard the howl of a Banshees for awhile now, at least I can't remember it. I hope we've managed to stumble into an enemy blindspot. If there isn't anything important to the aliens in the surrounding blocks, and no key UNSC holdouts, it would make sense for them to simply pass us over.

Inside, my boots echo in the hollow concrete building. There aren't many cars here, which makes sense all things considered, and it takes us no time at all to find a service stairwell that goes down to the lower floor.

"How deep is this?" I ask.

"The floorplan indicates only a single basement level." Alice responds.

Naomi takes point, moving silently in front of me at the head of the column. We push down, boots thumping on the concrete stairs. It's hard to be quiet when every surface is an acoustic amp. Our only real chance to get through this without a fight is for the insurgents to just not be here at all. I move my finger to the trigger.

We push out into the basement level and begin our sweep. We spread out in two, independent prongs to cover as much area as possible and reduce blindspots. When you're doing a breach into an unknown area the most important thing is to get as many eyes in as many directions as possible. The old CQB adage of surprise, speed, and violence of action rolls around in my mind. Perhaps surprisingly it becomes quickly apparent this is just a mianintans area with not much too it. There are drains and electrical wiring, as well as the maintenance access to the pneumatic drivers for the two elevators that service the garage itself. All and all things look normal except for the bins of concrete rubble we find strewn about the place. That is until we hit the West wall opposite the stairwell. Here we find what we're looking for: Somebody, or a group of people, have literally carved away the concrete wall to reveal a hardened blast door roughly ten feet wide and eight feet tall. It looks like a bank vault, with a flat exterior broken up by thick titanium locking rods. The edges of where they've cut through the wall to reveal the door underneath are rough, and show tool marks from everything from pickaxes to drills.

We'd have no chance of breaking through a door like this, and that would be a problem if the door itself weren't already open. I indicate the opening and Naomi moves forwards. It's roughly a four foot gap, and just enough to fit Naomi's armor through without too much trouble. It's considerably easier for us, and we quickly follow behind her with guns raised.

Immediately we realize something has gone terrible wrong. Roughly a dozen bodies crowd the doorway and even in the dim, flickering low light of the bunker's halogen bulbs, I can tell this was nothing but a slaughter. Blood is everywhere: across the concrete floor, and strewn about in large red streaks that show the brute strength and violence of the attacker. It has all since turned a dark, rust color with the passage of time, and flies buzz happily around the area. Even through the filters of my helmet I can smell the stench of rotting meat.

I ignore it all, and move into position with my rifle braced against my shoulder. Naomi pushes deeper into the complex, and I step over the body of one man whose torso has been cut almost entirely in half. This initial room is little more than a stubby hallway, probably intended as an intake checkpoint during emergencies when this bunker was originally planned. To the right are a series of bins and metal shelves behind a metal fence and padlocked gate. Rifles and ammunition boxes clutter the area. To the left is the control panel for the bunker's locking mechanism, and a severed hand still clutches the bright yellow activation handle. The owner of the hand is a foot to the side with a long gouge through his neck and chest armor. A black scorch mark marrs the wall next to him.

"We found the weapons shipments…" Naomi says dryly.

The next room is stacks of boxes. I recognise them as the same shielded crates we encountered both at the spaceport, and onboard the smuggler's ship a month prior. All in all there are probably over fifty boxes.

"How many people was this bunker designed for?" Wink asks.

Alice replies with a calm and level voice, totally undisturbed by the death around us. "The original floor plan has enough space to accommodate one hundred short term residents, and fifty long term residents."

"Viking, Wink – Take the right wing. Check the rooms." Naomi points past the crates. Both of them nod, and I watch Viking take point and move towards the opening. Naomi motions for me to follow. "We have the left."

The left room turns out to be a command bunker of some kind. Inside there is computer equipment along each wall of the small, twenty by twenty space, with an archaic looking communications array as a central pillar. There is also a chatternet terminal whose screen still blinks with the last command: 'INQUIRY.' An older woman with white hair lays hunched over the desk with a hole burnt clean through her back.

"Fascinating." Alice comments. "This is a shielded access terminal. From here the insurgents would be able to access the chatternet and its related systems without alerting me. This explains how they were able to gather so much information about our efforts against them and remain steps ahead of the security forces."

"None of these people saw it coming." I comment, more concerned about the dead than the technical marvels we're surrounded by.

Naomi turns to me and nods. "You recognise the wounds?"

I give her a grim frown that I'm not sure she can see past my visor. "Plasma sword."

"This was a Covenant strike team. Zealot class elites if I had to guess."

"Why kill them at this point? It doesn't make any sense if they were working together? And if they weren't then why provide them with weapons?"

Naomi looks towards the dead woman. "Betrayal." She sighs. "The Covenant despise humans, and whoever's idea it was to work with the insurgents it probably wouldn't be popular if word got out."

"Clear." Viking radios from the other side of the facility. "Bodies but… No one alive."

I look towards the supply room, then back at the woman's body. "So. They give them weapons, let them do damage, and then clean 'em out at the end just to save some face incase word gets out they worked with humans?"

"Yes." Naomi steps past me and moves back into the main room. "What if you were caught working with one of them?"

I grimace at the thought. "I still don't get it though – They're glassing the city. Why bother with one group? Why not just let them die with everyone else?"

She shrugs. "I don't know everything. If I had to guess? Just… risk assessment. Costs them nothing to send the team out for a little extra insurance."

I'm reminded a lot of how ONI thinks when it comes to 'risk assessment'. The policy of better safe than sorry can be used to justify some fairly horneous actions.

"We need to move the bodies." Naomi concludes over the comms. "I'll start with the ones at the front. We'll stack them in the basement of the parking garage and then shut the door."

It takes us over an hour to collect the bodies and stack them in a semi-organized pile away from the bunker door. The flies are the first thing that starts to diminish from the interior of the bunker, followed by the smell. As I'm dragging the upper torso of a middle aged male I try not to look at the wriggling white specs inside his open chest cavity. I'm pretty used to dead bodies, it comes with the territory, but this? Rot is something that makes even seasoned soldiers lose their breakfast. I finally move the last body onto the pile and take a breath to clear my mind.

"Hey… Ginger, come here." Viking calls me over to a body.

I move to his position and look at the insurgent. It's a man, probably in his late thirties, early forties. "What?" I eventually conclude.

"Look at him." Viking comments.

"I did. What?" I glance back at the dead man then back at Viking.

"He doesn't look familiar?"

With a sigh I stare back down at the man's lifeless expression. He has strong features, with a wide nose and strong brow, and they compliment his dark skin. I stare at him for a moment, and the two burning holes in his chest created by the plasma sword that ended his life. He has a passing resemblance to Scratch, and I realize what's bothering Viking. "Come on, man. You know it isn't him."

"You see it too though, right?"

"Yeah – I see it. But… I mean come on. What are the chances?"

"I mean it makes sense. He said his brother was an insurgent. Where the fuck else would he have been?"

"There are dozens of cells across the planet, Viking, fuck – probably hundreds. We don't even know if he was still ON Reach. We were fighting here for two months even prior to this whole shit show and we were all over the planet. This is – it's just a dude who kinda sorta looks like him. That's all."

Viking stares down at the man, then nods slowly. "Yeah… yeah, you're probably right." He continues to nod but doesn't move.

I pat him on the shoulder, "Let's get inside." We both move to the door, and I give a passing glance back at the man. Even if it is him there's nothing we can do about it. It's not like we have time to give him a proper burial or like it would even matter? I shake my head and push the thought out of my mind.

Inside the bunker Wink has been working on getting the door lever unjammed, and as we move inside she pulls it into the closed position. With a hiss from somewhere unseen and the electric grind of an old motor, the heavy blast door moves into the closed position. A series of heavy thunks follow as each of the twelve locking pistons move into position. We're sealed in.

"Good job." I comment, and receive an apathetic shrug in response. Wink moves away from the control panel and follows us into the command room where Naomi is seated at the terminal.

"The door is fixed," she says. "So long as the generator works it'll open."

Naomi doesn't look away from where she's working as she speaks. "I examined the generator and determined it is in serviceable condition. The air filtration system is also relatively new, so I believe this had been an insurgent stronghold for some time."

"I mean it makes sense," Viking agrees. "Central location right in the heart of New Alex. Great distribution point for the stolen Covenant weaponry."

"Not that they got a chance to use it." Wink comments.

"Not that we're aware of." Naomi advises. "There is no telling how long this operation has been going on, and how many cities it was affecting. The UNSC was dealing with a significant rise in insurgent activity in the months prior to invasion, and I believe there is suitable evidence to suggest this was not accidental."

"How did ONI let this slip by?" Wink hisses.

"I am not convinced they were totally unaware." Naomi adds.

I stare at the back of her head. "What?"

Naomi stops typing, and after a pause turns to face us. "Operation Red Flag is a majority Spartan II operation that involves four steps. Step one involves the capture of a Covenant flagship carrier, either a CAS-Class assault carrier, or a supercarrier."

I think back to the massive Covenant ship falling from the sky. "Like the one we took down right before the main Covenant fleet arrived?"

"Correct."

"So?" Wink looks between the both of us.

"To draw out such a ship would require significant commitment from the Covenant fleet. Figuratively, it is a large rat, and thus requires a large piece of cheese to catch." Her statement hangs in the air with ominous implications.

"And Reach was the cheese?" Viking says in a low voice.

"That is a distinct possibility."

"No, no, no…" Wink shakes her head. "No. That doesn't make any sense. Why take the ship down then? Why a whole planet? Why commit so many UNSC forces to the defense? We've lost so much trying to hold this fucking place!"

"I believe Noble's actions in taking down the supercarrier were… unexpected. Nobody accounted for a team of Spartans being able to accomplish such a feat with menial support. Once it happened though, ONI had to compensate and hope another suitable vessel showed up."

"Why didn't you tell us any of this before?" Viking questions. "Why is this the first any of us are hearing about Red Flag?"

"I apologize, but I was unaware of it until moments ago. Colonel Holland mentioned the operation. and now that I have access to the chatternet I was able to access the mission files. There are not many, and they are well protected. Without Alice, I would not have been able to find them."

"So we were all bait." Wink concludes. "Bait for what?"

"From what details I was able to uncover it appears ONI believes the only chance humanity has to end the war is to infiltrate the Covenant's homeworld and take a significant portion of their governmental and religious figures hostage for negotiations."

"To end the war?" Wink shakes her head, and nervously paces the room while trying to get her head around what we're hearing.

"Yes…" Naomi nods. "I admit, it is a long shot, but the plan does make logical sense. Reach has shown that even with years of preparation humanity cannot compete with the Covenant in a large scale conflict."

There is a pause, with no one saying anything in reply for a moment.

"So what's our next step?" I ask. "Does this information change anything?"

"We still have a mission: We have to make our way out of the city and get in contact with Colonel Holland to inform him we successfully retrieved the superintendent. With the density of enemy air cover, we will have to make the trip entirely on foot. It will take days, so in the short term we will get some sleep." Naomi looks between each of us. "We will all need it."

We all stand there for a moment, each thinking and taking the time to absorb the realities of our situation and the broader scope of the war. Viking is the first to assign himself a task, deciding to get some beds together and move them into the command room. It's only smart to have us bunk down in the same room.

"I'll get whatever ammo I can find and bring it here. Medical too." Wink says before she moves back into the main room.

I remain behind, and watch Naomi resume her work at the terminal. "Are you going to get some sleep too?" I ask.

"I will. Eventually." She pauses, and I see her helmet shift slightly. "How are you feeling?"

I suppress a laugh. The question strikes me as absurd. "I'm… alright I guess."

"You do not have to lie." Naomi corrects.

I frown. "You know how I'm feeling. You feel it too."

This causes her to stop tying and once more look back at me. "Do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do."

"I told Viking not to cut Chance off the wall."

"Because you had to. It was the right call."

Her silver visor pivots to look at the floor. "Was it? Maybe I could have held the Covenant off. I probably could have bought enough time. Maybe… even patched his helmet. But it would have posed a risk to the mission and that's why I made the call."

I step closer and kneel in front of her. "Naomi – Come on… Don't talk like that. You make it sound like you just threw him away and we both know that isn't true." I remove my helmet and set it down on the ground.

"What if it is though? They trained me to do that. To make those calculations and to know when human life isn't… worth it. What makes me any different from an AI just… running the numbers?"

A pain spreads out in my chest, and I reach forward and grab Naomi's hands. I squeeze them. "This." I say. "What you're feeling right now. I've left people behind too. It hurts. It always hurts. It's never easy, no matter how necessary it might be, and you're always left questioning 'what could I have done to stop it from happening?' That's what makes you human. You know the cost not just as a number, but as its true value." I reach up and raise her chin. "Look at me – You're not a machine, Naomi."

I feel her squeeze my hands and I smile up at her. In the reflection of her visor I see myself - unshaven, sweaty, and with a cut on my lip that I don't remember how I got. I look terrible, and start to laugh.

"What?"

I shake my head apologetically. "I'm sorry - not the best time but… I saw my reflection in your helmet and I think that's the first time I've seen myself in like a month. I look terrible."

Naomi shakes her head. "No you don't." She removes her hands from my grasp and moves them to the side of her helmet. There is a small hiss of releasing locks and she lifts the heavy helmet off. Immediately I'm struck by her appearance. I wonder if she's gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw her, or if I'm just losing my mind. Her blond hair clutters the sides of her face in a disheveled bob, and she idly pushes some of it behind her ear. The medical scars that cover her skin are as captivating as they are grim reminders of what she endured. An almost imperceptible smile pulls at one corner of her mouth and her blue-gray eyes are locked to mine. I'm mesmerized by her. "Come here."

I lean forward and as I draw closer and closer I'm aware of everything I'm doing. My mind races as fast as my heart pounds: What expression do I have on my face? What should I do with my eyes? Are my lips in the right spot? Should I smile or just try and keep still? We're only inches from each other now and I can feel her breath on my skin. It causes a wave of goosebumps across my entire body and I have to fight to stop myself from visibly shivering. Naomi smiles, and it's the single most intoxicating expression I've ever seen.

"You look nervous." She whispers.

My mouth is dry, and I wish with every fiber of my being that I'd had time to drink some water before all of this happened. Any preparation at all would have been nice… "I am." I confess.

She snickers. "Don't be."

Then it happens. She closes her eyes and her lips touch mine. Just like that my mind goes blank. The entire world seems to slow down and I hear the thud of my heart in my head. My hands feel numb but they also tingle as though they've just been woken up after being slept on. I hold my breath and as we kiss and I realize I'm staring at her. I quickly clamp my eyes shut, terrified she might realize how desperately I want to memorize every inch of her expression at this moment. Then - just like that - it's over. She pulls back and I open my eyes to see that same impossibly bright smile beaming back at me.

"You're a good kisser." She says, but I know she's lying. It was awkward, and like the kiss a middle schooler gives his first crush behind the playground slide.

I smile, the shock finally wearing off somewhat. "No. I can do much better."

She smirks, and I see her lean forward again but before I'm able to make good on my promise the sound of someone choking breaks me from the moment. My eyebrow furrows and Naomi's expression changes to one of alarm. We both lurch up, but where Naomi grabs her helmet I forgo my own in favor of speed. I reach the door and yank myself around the corner.

"Viking!? Wink!?" I bellow as I rush through the rows of boxes. As I turn down another, I find the source of the noise. Wink is on the ground, cradling something in her arms with Viking at her side. She's crying, and leaning against his legs while he pats her on the shoulder. Both of them have their helmets off and he looks at me with a pained expression, and tears welling in his puffy red eyes.

"She's found a biofoam canister…" He explains with a crack in his voice.

"I killed him!" Wink blurts in a series of staccato, gasping sobs.

I blink in confusion and quickly move to her side. I drop to my knees and kneel beside her, then place a hand on my arm. "Hey, hey – it's okay. What's wrong?"

Wink continually shakes her head and I see the red and silver biofoam canister in her hands. She's gripping it so tight her knuckles and fingers have gone entirely white. "It's my fault." She wails. "If I – hadn't used the last canister, Chance would still be here. It's my fault."

My throat tightens up as I realize what she's saying. "No." I croak, before clearing my throat to try and cobble together some semblance of a confident voice. "Wink, you didn't kill him."

"I did! I did… It's my fault! He'd still be here if I'd just…"

"If you'd what? Predicted the sniper's shot and moved out of the way of a speeding bullet?" I force myself to chuckle, trying to bring some levity to break up the feeling in my chest. "Don't be ridiculous. There wasn't anything you could have done."

"I could have walked, Ginger. I could have fucking walked. It wasn't that bad."

I shake my head. "You're only saying that because it doesn't hurt right now."

"No. I could have." She reaffirms.

"Really? You want me to shoot you in the leg now and you can test it?" I smile at her and take a moment to wipe tears from my eyes. "Look – it happened. Chance made the call, and it was the right call. Right? We needed you mobile. We needed you in the fight."

Naomi's calm tone breaks through. "Ginger is correct. Given the tactical information Chance had at the time he made the decision to keep his team at peak condition. That was not your decision."

Viking nods. "You even protested it… Look – Chance wouldn't have changed what he did even with hindsight, I bet. He was looking out for you."

Wink sobs again. "He shouldn't have had to, Viking. I should have just fucking… looked after myself better."

I take a sharp breath and squeeze her arm tight. "You can't think like that. Fuck. I mean, you can't be perfect. We all make mistakes, and it wasn't even your mistake! Wink, it was a fucking sniper. What were you supposed to do?"

Through sniffles I see her nod. "I know… I just miss him, Ginger. I really miss him. I don't know what I'm going to do without him. I should have… So much."

I lean forward and put my arms around her. I hold her tight, squeezing her with as much strength as I can muster. She cries harder. Viking bends down and joins me. "It's not your fault." I repeat. "I swear to you it isn't your fault."

"He's right," Viking agrees. "I mean – I could have been covering the door. I'd have seen them coming down the hall, you know? I just didn't think about it. I thought the facility was safe or – that we'd get warning. Something."

I reach past Wink and pat him on the shoulder. "And if I had been thinking I could have thrown the grenade back. It was a short hallway, and they didn't cook it. I was close enough but… I just didn't, you know? It's just…"

"War." Naomi says.

"Yeah."

Naomi moves to the front of Wink's position and gets down on her knees. She puts her arms around all of us and for a while we simply remain there. Wink continues to cry, but it becomes an increasingly softer sound till finally it trails off. When we break I'm forced to wipe my cheeks and my nose, and I see Viking doing the same. I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves.

"I'm okay…" Wink finally says. She lifts up the canister towards me. "Here. Ginger, take this. It's the only one I could find. Their medical is tapped out but… I found ammo."

I take the biofoam and put it in the canvas pouch on my webbing. "Alright. Now… Viking, I'll help you get those beds into the command room. I think we could all use some sleep, yeah?"

"Not just that," Viking adds. "I found some MREs. I'm going to bust out the ol' stove and cook us up some nice hot food. How's that sound, eh?"

I chuckle, "I'll finish getting the beds if you start cooking."

"Deal."

Wink finally gets up with Naomi helping her a bit. "I'll help with the beds."

I know she needs to keep focused on something so I don't protest. We move to the doorway of the other wing, where Viking has already stacked a series of mattresses taken from the sleeping quarters. They're not exactly luxurious, but they'll do the job. I grab hold of the three on top and start dragging them down the corridor of boxes. Wink grabs the remaining two, and together we shuffle them all into the command room. There isn't too much space, but we make it work, lining up the beds around Viking's portable camping stove.

There are four opened MRE's and Viking has poured them all into a small pot over a butane burner. "You're all in for a real treat," he comments. "We've got two number fours, spaghetti with meat sauce, and two number eights, meatballs in marinara. By my advanced calculations that means this should be edible."

We all gather around, and each of us grab a helping of the food. Viking makes some jokes, and Wink and I laugh at a few of them. Even Naomi does once or twice. I still keep thinking back to the kiss we shared, and how this whole thing will end. It seems impossible to get through all of this now, with an entire world dying just outside our doorstep, but if we can make it out of the city there is a chance. A small one, but still… If we can just get off this rock, live to fight another day. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I realize this is the first time she's gone without her helmet around the whole squad. Something about that feels like an accomplishment.

Once everyone's had all there is to eat, and chewed on the hard crackers that come with each MRE for some extra calories, we turn in. Nobody gets out of their armor, and it's not like there are comfortable sheets to go around, but at this point it hardly matters. Viking and Wink both pass out almost the exact moment they hit their mattresses, and my last image is of Naomi sitting at the computer terminal.

"You should come to bed." I tell her.

"I will. There are some files the insurgents were working on I want to look into."

"Don't stay up too late." I chuckle.

"You're my protector now?" She jokes back.

I shrug, and close my eyes.

++August 24th 1000 Hours++

I'm yanked up and out of bed with a sudden rush of air. My eyes struggle for focus as I choke and sputter with alarm at the tightness around my throat. I lash out with my feet and push against my attacker, but it feels like I'm kicking a tank. My eyes finally adjust and I see Naomi's blue-gray eyes burrowing into me with unbridled fury. I stare at her in confusion and panic. Nothing makes sense.

"You bastard." She hisses through clenched teeth. "You fucking bastard!"

Viking is already flailing out of bed, "H-hey! Hey! What are you doing?" He shouts, shoving Wink to get her up.

"W-what!?" I question, my eyes flicking around the room.

"He's been lying this entire fucking time!" Naomi roars. "He knew. This entire time he's been an agent with ONI!"

"No!" I shout, and grab onto her shoulders to hold myself up as my feet dangle above the floor. "Naomi, no. I swear I don't work for ONI – I mean, we do now but Kilo-Five agreed to do that. I'm not an agent anymore."

"You're lying." She hisses as a tear collects in the corner of her right eye.

"Hold on – Just… What the hell is going on?" Wink questions as she gets onto her feet and looks around. "Naomi! Talk to us. What the fuck are you doing?"

Naomi's jaw tenses and the pressure around my neck lessens, but she still pushes against me with her forearms. "The insurgents were tracking us. Or – trying to. Once we hit them they pulled whatever data they could off each of you from a contact in ONI. No - I don't know who, they used a codename."

"So!?" Viking questions.

"Alice, play it." Naomi orders.

"Very well." The AI responds.

A woman's voice fills the room, and if I had to guess it's the dead insurgent we found laying over the desk. "I heard you had trouble at the airport."

"Yeah," a man replies. "Some kind of ONI team called Kilo-Five showed up and took out the whole damn shipment."

"Kilo-Five? Never heard of them."

"Yeah well – they had a Spartan with 'em."

"A Spartan? How far did they get?"

"Pretty fucking far, Jules. I've got a flaming bird on my runway, and one of your boys banged her up with a warthog from what I've gathered, but she's still alive."

"Shit. Alright… Kilo-Five, right? I'm going to pull every favor I've got to get what I can on these people. See if we can get something to use against 'em."

"You better hurry… Alice is already tracking that Warthog and I have a pretty good idea where it's going."

"Don't you worry about that – my men know how to disappear."

The recording cuts out. "After that," Naomi continues, "They pulled files from the ONI network on every member of Kilo-Five. Even mine. Even Ginger's." She looks like sh might hit me. "I wondered why they didn't let me see your file. You fucking knew too, and you didn't tell me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Wink asks.

"It turns out Ginger knows all about the Spartan programme because he was one of the people who provided the assets."

"What does that mean?" Wink presses, her voice showing increasing signs of frustration.

"Tell them." Naomi orders.

My stomach drops like a weight, and a wave of nausea passes over me but I fight down the desire to throw up my recently ingested dinner. "The Spartan programme relied on young people… Children." I swallow. "We'd get orders. Name. Location. Kids, no older than six. We'd show up with a flash clone of the kid. Break in. Steal the kid. Replace 'em. Leave."

"Jesus…" Viking breaths.

"How many?" Naomi asks.

"In the programme?"

"How many did you personally take?"

I frown. "Six."

"And how long have you been working with Halsey after you left?"

I look at her with confusion, then around the room as if it could provide answers to me. "What? I don't work with Halsey. I saw her literally once before Kilo-Five joined up at Sword. She gave us a briefing. One time."

"You're such a fucking liar, Ginger. You expect me to believe you just happened to be assigned to my squad? That this is just one giant fucking coincidence?"

"What coincidence?!" I blurt out.

"You kidnapped me!" Naomi shouts. I stare back at her with utter bewilderment. "You. Took. ME!"

"No…" I shake my head.

"Yes. You were my assigned acquisitions specialist." She stares at me, her eyes hard and calculating. "So what's the deal? Is this some kind of test? Halsey wanted to see how attached I could get to someone just to prove a fucking point? Some kind of game to show naive little Naomi where her blindspot is?"

I continue to shake my head. I try to speak but my voice is nothing but a whimper as I try to fight back the tears. "No." I croak. "Never."

"Naomi," Wink cuts in, "Ginger might be an asshole, but… We'd have known if he was working with Halsey. That's – it's not possible. He's been with us for years."

Viking frowns. "I mean… He never really talked about it. We all knew he worked for ONI."

"In the past , yeah, but you know as well as I do there is a good reason he didn't talk about it, Viking, and it's the same reason Scratch never told us about his brother." She looks back at me. "Tell me I'm not wrong, please ."

I nod emphatically, and try with every fiber of my being to show how genuine I am. "She's right. I swear to you all I had no idea. None. I left ONI because of what happened. I couldn't look at myself anymore. The nightmares kept me up, and – I had to get out. I wasn't cut out for it. So I left and joined ODST." I stare at Naomi, pleading that she believes me. "Please. I swear, Naomi, I swear I had no idea."

Wink steps forwards and places a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "We all joined ODST for fucked up reasons. No one does this job if they're normal. A lot of people are fleeing the past and that's what makes them join up – they have a death wish."

"At least you had a choice." She whispers, and suddenly drops me to the floor. I don't bother getting up, and I can't look her in the eye. I just stare at my boots. Nobody moves to help me.

"So… what now?" Viking questions.

Naomi grabs her helmet from the console and pulls it on. "Nothing has changed." She says coldly. "We still have to leave the city, and we can't go by car. So we're walking. Get prepped."

Wink frowns, she looks back at me for a moment, then shakes her head in disappointment. "Ten mikes and I'll have us loaded on ammo."

"I'll get the packs filled with whatever food 'n refill water." Viking adds.

Naomi takes her rifle from its position resting against the wall and pulls back the charging handle. "I'll open the door. Let's move out."