"Hey, uh, Captain? Permission to speak semi-freely?"

"Send traffic."

"I know this is coming really late, sir, but is it too late to take a Pelican? Or at least a shuttle?"

Garcia glanced over at Dawn. The shipgirl looked strangely anxious, twisting the hem of her uniform between her fingers. Despite the novel open on it — Rainforest Wars, Garcia noted — her UNSC-issued personal datapad laid forgotten on the seat next to her. "Are you alright?" he said, "Does elevator travel not agree with you?"

"Honestly, sir, not really," Dawn muttered. "It's crowded and only goes up and down in a straight line. It's like being in a cage. Makes me nauseous."

Her eyes flicked upwards towards a massive domed skylight in the roof of Terminal 1 of the New Mombasa Tetherport. One of the tetherport's three passenger terminals, it sat on an artificial island a kilometer off the East African coast, surrounded by a tight perimeter of missile and laser batteries. On normal days the weapons guarded a constant flow of people and goods streaming to and from the far-flung worlds of the UEG. Today, much of that normal traffic was absent; interstellar commerce tended to slow when half the stars twinkling in the night sky were shipwrecks and system-wide martial law had a way of putting a damper on travel plans. Nevertheless, as the Solar System slowly returned to normal and the Abyssals faded into the rearview mirror, the tethers would stand, waiting for their passengers to return.

"Shame. Still, they're quite a sight to look at, aren't they?" Garcia said, following Dawn's gaze. "I was eleven the first time I took an elevator. I think my neck still has a backward curve." He bent his neck left and right and winced at the sound of popping vertebrae. Then he brightened and gestured at one of the arches that supported the terminal roof, organic and almost meandering curves melding smoothly with a rigid, squared-off, industrial core. "Did you check out the terminal's design on the train in? It's by Njeri Kimathi, she also designed the new AMG building on Reach and the Kobayashi Tower in…" Garcia trailed off as Dawn nodded along with a vacant expression and poorly hidden disinterest in the influence of the Neo-Convergenist style. He let out a somewhat offended huff and turned to look at the view out the terminal windows. If his subordinate didn't appreciate architecture, then he'd just have to do it himself.

Besides, the view was impressive on its own merits. To the west, looking out of the modernized terminal's soaring, floor-to-roof windows, was a picturesque view of the revitalized city skyline where corporate towers and luxury apartments backdropped a tree-lined waterfront. To the east, freighters plied the Darwin-Jakarta-Chennai-Mombasa route as the Indian Ocean sparkled like sapphire beneath the late morning sunshine. Straight overhead, suspended by the tension between the Earth and the terminal station in geostationary orbit, three gargantuan, delicate, yet deceptively sturdy carbon nanotube elevator strands pierced the clouds. Begun in January and completed in October 2560, the new elevators were a ten thousand-kilometer tall rebuttal to the doomsayers who thought New Mombasa would never recover from the Prophet of Regret.

Struck by inspiration, Garcia turned around to look for his datapad to take a picture. In the process, his eyes fell on Dawn, staring out the windows at the New Mombasa skyline with a somewhat melancholy look. The captain frowned and set his datapad down. "Something troubling you, ensign? Besides the elevator, I mean?"

"Huh?" Dawn blinked and looked around. "I was just looking outside to avoid looking up-oh. Was I making a weird expression, sir? I apologize." She gestured at the window and said, "Didn't realize how many memories were tied up here. Out there. On Earth. Strange seeing her again, you know? A lot's changed." She offered up a crooked smile and stretched her arms in front of herself with a slight grunt. "Hull welds creaking in my old age, I suppose."

Garcia winced and said, "If we're going by dog years, maybe. No matter how you calculate it, I'm pretty sure I'm older than you, so…" An odd thought flitted unbidden through his head. It's been so hectic that we never took the time to define a shipgirl's age. Do we go by the date of commission or time in active service?

"Sir? Your eyes suddenly, uh, lost focus?"

Shaking such thoughts away, Garcia coughed and said, "Belay my last, ensign." Looking back out through the windows, he said, "I always manage to forget, but you weren't around for the last few decades, huh?" When Dawn winced he hastily added, "Sorry, that was insensitive. But that means you weren't around for the reconstruction efforts." It also means that, for you, it's still raw, went unsaid. The captain shook his head in sympathy. "Innies bombed a nearby mall when I was a kid. It's rebuilt now, but I always need a second when I go home and see it standing there. This must be utterly surreal for you. Would you like to talk about it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I should." Dawn heaved a sigh, then made a broad sweeping gesture towards the window. "Last time I was here…New Mombasa, I mean, right before we went off to wring Truth's sorry neck. City was absolutely devastated. A lot of people needed help — they were still pulling bodies out of the rubble when we jumped out — but we couldn't stick around to help. And maybe there wasn't a lot I could do about it, but I still couldn't protect them, could I?" Her eyes closed and her lips twitched into a bitter smile before she quickly schooled her face into something more neutral. "My apologies, sir. It's supposed to be a happy occasion, and I'm glad I got the chance to come back to Earth. Even if we were too busy to see the sights. She's home, always will be… but she doesn't feel like home if that makes sense. Not just yet."

Garcia watched sorrow, resentment, guilt, envy, and a hundred other emotions battle across her expression. He thought he could at least begin to understand how Dawn felt, like a weary soldier, finally returning to her ruined hometown after years at the front only to find a gleaming city built in its place. The sun was shining, the people were at peace after so many years of war, but what of her? How could she let herself feel at home when she couldn't look at the skyline without seeing it in flames? How could she let herself enjoy the placid waters without remembering them choked with shipwrecks and the corpses of those she couldn't save. Familiar, yet alien, it would make anyone feel like a stranger among their fellow humans. With a tsk, he clapped her on the shoulder and said, "Nothing to forgive, ensign. As long as you carry out your duties and orders, what you're feeling is none of my business. And for what it's worth, I don't think any of those people would blame you. I mean, you got that bastard Truth in the end, right? Probably saved a lot more in the end."

Dawn huffed and said, "If you say so, sir."

"Doubting my sincerity, ensign?"

"Never, sir." Despite her sarcasm, Dawn's downcast eyes softened just a touch. Perhaps she could find some comfort in Garcia's words. He wasn't so deluded as to think he could help her through her problems just like that, but in his experience, every little bit counted. "I was thinking through a lot of this stuff during the trip over, and I thought I was ready to face those memories, but being face to face with that blue sky… I guess it hit harder than I thought it would. Sometimes I wonder if it would've been easier just to stay sleeping — uh, not that I want to, of course!"

"I should very well hope so, ensign," Garcia said in his most severe tone of voice. "You've made my life quite interesting. If it turns dull due to your unauthorized death, I shall ensure a permanent black mark exists in your record."

Smirking a little at Dawn's snort of laughter, Garcia turned back to his datapad but stopped as he realized that their little conversation had not gone completely unobserved. Tether 1 was a public terminal, so both civilians and military personnel mixed together in the waiting areas. Most military personnel he could see were either asleep or engrossed in their own work, but he could spot many civilians trying to stare surreptitiously at Dawn. Well, he thought, they're certainly succeeding in one half of that equation. "By the way, is the staring making you uncomfortable at all?"

"Hm?" Dawn's once again snapped out of a reverie, surprise wiping something hard to define from her face. "The what now, sir?"

"The staring." Garcia wobbled his head in a vague circle to indicate their general surroundings. "Did you… not notice?" Dawn looked around with a look of growing horror and right on cue, a high-pitched, childish voice rang out.

"Mommy, that lady was on TV!"

Like a dam giving way, murmuring broke out, some of the less subtle individuals going so far as to point. Dawn let out an excellent approximation of a strangled goose. She snatched her datapad from where it lay on the seat next to her and hid her rapidly reddening face behind it. "A slower heads-up would've been good tactics, sir!" she hissed, putting a hand to her chest, "I think my reactor lost containment!"

"I thought you were just ignoring it."

"Respectfully, sir, ignorance is bliss!" Dawn placed two fingers on her carotid and made a visible effort to rein in her pulse. Still covering her face with the cap, she shied away from the stares and said, "Why are they staring? I-I mean I know I ain't totally normal-looking, but—aw, fu—fudgesicles, is that yogurt I had for breakfast on my face?"

Definitely not deriving some unprofessional amusement from his subordinate's plight, Garcia said, "Your face is plastered all over Waypoint. You can't blame people for staring at a celebrity." He tapped his datapad and opened the Waypoint news tab. "Have you seen these articles? I could do better journalism." He snorted as he swiped along the screen. "'Navy ghosts battle aliens', 'Spirits of the Covenant War', 'Secret weapons program brings back the dead', you'd think these people were writing for the tabloids, not respected newspapers! Did get some decent photos of you, though, good thing there was a spare uniform that fit you. Just…" Garcia grimaced like he'd bitten into a sour plum he thought was sweet. "Ensign, do yourself a favor, don't look at the comments."

Dawn did her level best to contract into a singularity and emitted a low whine. "If you were joking, it wasn't funny, sir." She wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at her lap.

Garcia's slight smirk faded away. He bookmarked the paper he was reading, set aside his datapad, and tapped Dawn on the shoulder. "Eyes up, ensign. A UNSC Navy officer has no reason stare at their feet." The shipgirl complied, turning downcast eyes his way. "I didn't think the crowd would make you that uncomfortable. I'm sorry. Do you need to move?"

Dawn was silent for a moment before running a hand down her face. "Dammit, this is pathetic…" When she looked back up, her eyes held a mixture of shame and gratitude. "I'm sorry, sir, could I?"

"Certainly." Garcia glanced over his shoulder, then stood up and beckoned for Dawn to follow. "The military lounge is this way."

"Oh, right, I have a military ID now," Dawn muttered, getting up from the thinly cushioned plastic terminal chair. She dusted her pants off, readjusted her hat, then blinked as realization struck her. "There was a lounge this whole time?"

Ten minutes, an ID check, and a star-struck receptionist later, Dawn looked much more relaxed as she sank into a reclining massage chair, away from curious eyes. "Ahhh… you know what, sir?" she said, sighing in delight as lingering aches in her muscles disappeared under the soothing vibrations of the faux-leather sofa, "I get it."

Feet kicked up on a coffee table, Garcia flipped through a romance novel with a lazy swipe and took a sip of coffee. He didn't bother looking over as he said, "Get what, ensign?"

"Why humans get aches and soreness." She turned her head over on the headrest, grinning lazily with half-lidded eyes. "It's so people can enjoy having them go away. Yin-yang, can't have good without the bad or something, right?"

Garcia huffed exasperatedly and took another, bigger sip. "You certainly seem to be adjusting well to your body."

"Oh, yeah, I thought before that I'd like to go back to being titanium so I didn't have to feel shit twenty-four-seven, but now?" She snuggled deeper into the chair and let out a somewhat obscene noise. "Wouldn't go back if you paid me, sir."

"That's living for you, it's the best 'cause everything else is shit." Garcia raised his eyebrow at something in his novel. A faint blush colored his cheeks before he closed the book and swung his feet off of the table. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he said, "In any case, you look a lot better."

"Mhm." Dawn squeezed her eyes shut and wiggled herself deeper into the cushions. "Thanks for letting me exfil. All that whispering was making my sensors crawl."

"Just don't count on it in the future. Can't be showing favoritism or handing out favors everywhere. I'm curious, though, you seemed fine during your hearing. What changed?"

Dawn held up a finger, eyes still shut. "Small correction, sir, I was not fine, I was freaking the hell out."

Garcia raised an eyebrow and thought back to the hearing. Compared to his own turn in the hot seat, hands shaking so bad he almost missed his mouth with a water bottle, Dawn had looked the image of composure. "Really? Then I'll be sure to put in a good word to the Performing Arts Academy, your acting had me fooled." He plucked a banana out of the fruit basket — fresh fruit, harder to come by with rationing these days, there were normally chips and things there — and held it up. "Potassium?"

"Thanks, sir. Gotta get those micronutrients." She caught the banana one-handed and went to take a bite. Her teeth made contact with the skin before she froze, glanced left and right, and hurriedly peeled the fruit before continuing to talk around a mouthful of flesh. "It helps," she said, voice somewhat thick and garbled, "that I can just tell my engineers to kick up the ol' parasympathetic a notch. Helps with the shakes and the hyperventilation. Does that sound weird? It's weird, isn't it?"

Garcia rolled his eyes and waved away Dawn's sudden bashfulness. "At this point, I'm numb. You could grow a third arm and I'd just slide it into the weekly despatches."

"I choose to consider that a compliment, sir." Dawn polished off the banana then flicked the peel halfway across the room and perfectly into a compost bin. No doubt she'd calculated the trajectory with her ballistics computer, but Garcia couldn't help but give a round of golf claps. "Thanks. Ah, but it also helps I was under orders to be there and to testify. Like, I could just tell myself to follow orders, and that helped me calm down. But when I'm just sitting there, thumb up my stern?" She shook her head and said, "Frigates aren't famous. That's not our job, it doesn't feel right. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy appreciation, but getting paraded in front of the crowd? You want a showboat, stick Everest in a tux, or figure out how to summon Basra or Trafalgar or Leviathan."

"Then I'm sure you'd rather not be watching that." Garcia nodded towards one of the televisions in the lounge, currently tuned to GNN. The scrolling ticker was full of headlines on Sol System cleanup efforts and news from other star systems, especially Epsilon Eridani, coming in on the newly restored comms. Garcia frowned as a property damage number slid into view, followed by the much more important casualty count, no longer rising by the hour but still rising by the day. Though the Abyssal host had focused and broken upon Reach and her iron crown of defenses, the outer system — Tribute in particular — had suffered alien fury to the tune of tens of thousands killed and millions more injured and displaced. Nor had Reach's defenses spared her and her moons all injury. The battle in Turul's surface structures, docks, and subterranean corridors caused heavy civilian and military casualties. Opportunistic Abyssal squadrons, slipping past the battle line and the outriding pickets and jumping through momentary gaps in jump interdiction coverage, raided the planet's surface. Quick responses from mobile units and the quick action of civil authorities in getting civilians to shelter cushioned the blow significantly, but the number was still… difficult to see. Garcia didn't think it would ever get easier and didn't like what it would say about himself if it did.

However, the broadcast's real focus was on a group of talking heads. Several distinguished-looking men and women in suits and bearing fancy titles — or at least their holograms — sat around a table on the news set while gesturing vigorously and pointing at various charts and datapads. Though the television was muted, Dawn's official military ID portrait in the corner made it clear what they were talking about, even without the dumb AI-generated live captions. Garcia glanced at her portrait, then at the genuine article, then back at the portrait, and said, "You know what, ensign, it is weird seeing someone you know on TV."

Dawn groaned and threw her arms over her eyes, saying, "Oh, for the love of Reyes-McLees… isn't there anything more interesting to talk about?"

"You'd be surprised, there's only so many ways to dress up post-battle cleanup before you're just repeating yourself. However, when it comes to physics-breaking human-shaped ship spirits, that's what gets the ad revenue." Garcia pointed at the TV. "Look, they've got a physicist on, trying to explain how you don't, in fact, violate conservation of mass and energy. It'd be funny if it weren't so sad."

"If they come calling to ask me in person, I'll inform them that I've got no damn clue. It just works."

Not mentioning that some scientists from the African Center for Nuclear Research had done just that, Garcia changed tack and said, "I bet we're going to see more public interest in history. If I were you, I'd think about a book deal, get a ghostwriter, set myself up for a comfy retirement. 'The Battle of the Ark — a Memoir', perhaps?"

Dawn pulled an expression that was a cross between contempt, disgust, and pain. "Ugh, no thanks. If I wanted to relive all that I could pull up my shirt and—" She winced and placed a hand against her stomach. "Well, the Ark was business, not pleasure, sir. I'd sooner not make money off those memories."

"So just put your head down, do your job, and live quietly, huh? You're an officer after my own heart ensign." Garcia decided not to mention the section of the Voi and Ark Memorial dedicated to her or the various veterans' organizations reaching out to the Navy and MoD, or the news organizations asking for an interview. He picked up the remote, changed the channel on the nearest television to a documentary, and said, "Word of advice, don't sweat the attention too much. It always blows over sooner or later if you don't try to hog the limelight. People get bored and move on. Trust me."

"I damn well hope so, sir." Dawn sighed and pressed a button that turned off the massage. She stretched, curling in on herself before arching her back like a cat, then hopped off the massage chair and made her way over to a water cooler. "Though if you don't mind me saying," she said as she filled a cup of water, "you sound like you have some experience with that."

"Ah. Do I?" Garcia recalled his conversation with Admiral Lasky, weeks that seemed like forever ago, back when he first realized his association with Dawn might be a more permanent affair after all. "Well, it was a long time ago, before the war. I made a call I thought was the right one. Conflicted with my orders, raised some hubbub with my superiors, but it went away. Specifics, perhaps another time, ensign."

Dawn looked dubious, but before she could pry further a voice sounded through the terminal. "Elevator 1A arriving in thirty minutes. Repeat, Elevator 1A arriving in thirty minutes. All passengers for Elevator 1A, please prepare to board in thirty minutes."

"That's our ride," Garcia said, getting a grumble of complaint in response as Dawn attempted to become one with her chair. "Come now, ensign, we may be friends but I won't hesitate to write an official reprimand if we keep Eternal waiting."

"Aye, aye, sir." Dawn closed her eyes, trying to wring a few last moments of enjoyment and relaxation out of her lounge privileges. "I've got a clock built into me, I won't be late. Just… fifteen more minutes, clear my mind and defrag the computer cores before I gotta jump through flaming hoops and get stuck full of needles."

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "You mean before the R&D division starts figuring out how you manage to break a dozen scientific laws every time you breathe? You didn't raise any objections when you signed the consent forms."

"And I still don't, 'cause I'll getting paid while I am it." One swirling purple-blue eye popped open. "I'm getting paid, right?"

"Your bank account is fattening as we speak."

The eye closed. "Then I'll sign those forms in triplicate."

"Oh, come now! It'll be fun. Some physics, some biology, some chemistry, and a whole lot of math. What's not to be excited about?"

Dawn threw a hand over her eyes and groaned softly. "Just because I'm a living calculator doesn't mean I have to like it." She paused, then poked up a finger. "Though it'll be nice not having to think for a while. Shaw and Fujikawa know I did enough of that during the hearing."

Garcia winced in sympathy. Turning his brain off for a spell and just going through the motions did strike him as an appealing notion. "If it's any consolation, you won't be the only one going through with it."

"Looking forward to it, sir. Looking forward to it."

"Attention all hands. Nuclear ordnance in motion on Track Five. Repeat, nuclear ordnance in motion on Track Five. Interference will be met with lethal force. Standard radiation warnings and precautions in effect."

Thirty anti-shipping nuclear warheads, clamped in place within an energy-shielded secure ordnance transfer tram, glided along magnetic rails in one of Infinity's dedicated weapons handling passages. Behind them came more carriages, loaded with plasma cells, drums of PDC ammunition, and 25-centimeter railgun rounds, each whisked away down its own dedicated track. Weapons techs wearing bright red reflective vests and helmets rode alongside the deadly cargo as announcements and admonishments blared over the PA system. Marine fireteams accompanied them, maintaining security along with camera drones and laser-armed quadcopters flitting back and forth above the entire scene. Sensors in the walls and floor relayed traffic status information to dumb AI and human controllers in the logistics department while other personnel kept a closer eye from monitoring rooms spaced along the passage.

"Enough firepower to crack High Charity, if that Covie scrapheap was still around. What do you think?"

"Eh, I've seen bigger booms."

"Come again?"

Standing in one of those monitoring rooms, Everest rolled her eyes. No sooner had she been cleared from quarantine by some very serious-looking medical staff than Infinity's shipboard AI, a delightful little shit who called himself Roland, introduced himself via a comm line straight into her brain. After a more formal introduction, consisting largely of threats to dismantle his core hardware with a sledgehammer and slights against the storage capacity of her wetware, real camaraderie-building stuff, Roland had offered a full tour of the ship, compliments of one Captain Shen.

"Think about it as a chance to see how far everything's come!" he said, "Though perhaps not in the field of AI science. Otherwise, I daresay we've picked up a few tricks that weren't around in the good ol' days. What say you, my new friend?" When Everest told him in which holes he could shove his damned tour, the AI played his trump card and said, "Come now, it'll be some time before the scientists are ready for you. Maybe hours. Have you any other ideas for killing time? I'm all ears — I've not yet had a chance to see what a shipgirl does for leisure."

Oh, right, that was a thing too. Among the many documents shoved under her nose during the discharge process, there'd been a fifteen-page thick consent form detailing a battery of experiments a team of researchers wanted to run on her. A member of the team took the time to go over the entire form with her in painstaking detail. Everest appreciated the gesture, though much of the language the doctor used Everest could only recall appearing in esoteric papers in the back of the monthly Proceedings of the National Academy of Physics issue, subscription provided free to all UNSC servicemembers. Evidently, science had advanced somewhat in her 40-year absence. Archiving vocabulary such as "vacuum energy tensor" for future reference, Everest had signed on the dotted lines, causing the doctor to break out in a relieved and somewhat overawed smile and shake her hand.

Considering that those experiments seemed to be the only recreation she had to look forward to, Everest decided to take Roland up on his offer ("Wonderful!"). Though she'd wanted to go straight to this S-deck she'd heard about, or barring that the mess hall, she'd let Roland take the reins and send her on the scenic throughout Infinity, who by the way was fucking massive. Six kilometers! It made her feel small. So far, Everest had seen the inside of an armory, some crew quarters, the park on the top deck — a whole-ass park! On a warship! — and myriad other locations, facilitated by tram and high-speed elevator and accompanied by Roland's surprisingly insightful commentary. She had to admit it was nice seeing just how far humanity had come in her forty years out of action with her own eyes and sensors.

That was how Everest found herself here, getting an introduction to the weapons handling areas from a gunnery officer in charge of three of Infinity's point defense guns. Roland had made himself scarce, something about wanting Everest to make some normal friends, leaving her to remind the officer of Admiral Preston Cole's very risky, very badass, last stand. Buddha preserve, she knew this was the future, but only four decades give or take! Flip music stuck around longer than that! She tapped her head and said, "Gas giant, nuke-induced nova, ring a bell? I'd hope Old Man Cole's Big Boom warrants at least an award-winning documentary." A frown crossed her expression. "Though I can't for the life of me remember what happened afterward. My memory banks are kinda a blur after Psi Serpentis. Huh."

The officer, a lieutenant sporting deep bags under her eyes, looked like she'd swallowed a frog but didn't press the point. "Okey dokey then." She turned away and muttered something Everest didn't bother picking up. Something about 'NOVA testing' and 'my life was complicated enough without goddamned reincarnation'?

"Still, not saying it ain't impressive," Everest said. She was, after all, perfectly capable of recognizing good weaponry when she saw it thank you very much. "Infinity could probably have ended the War on her lonesome. Damn fine ship you've got here."

The officer couldn't help but puff her chest out a bit at the compliment, but quickly cleared her throat and said, "Ahem! Anyway, we're lucky that Pallas Command was on the ball, or we'd be going home with empty magazines. If they hadn't gone dark the instant ruptures were detected, Abbies might've hit them like they hit Vesta."

Everest grimaced. "Ah, damn, alien fucks got Vesta? Shame, I remember rearming there once or twice. Real pros, those bomb jockeys, and those docking clamps, like a massage. Suppose that's all been replaced now though."

Infinity was taking on ammunition at Naval Logistics Depot 001-13, also known as Naval Logistics Station Pallas. Her magazines, though massive, were not infinite; she'd spent over two-thirds of her anti-shipping missile stocks to throw the Abyssals out of the Solar System. Luckily, the massive subsurface depot, currently host to Infinity, Home Fleet Battleship Division 3, and several cruiser divisions, held sufficient ordnance to resupply Infinity many times over. However, even with dedicated, automated equipment, the physical limitations of the massive cargo connections and the enduring impenetrability of Forerunner teleportation meant that it still took several hours to move tens of thousands of missiles. Add on ammunition for the main battery and secondaries, millions of point defense rounds, and Infinity had been stuck in place for almost a day. At least the process was nearing its end, to no small relief of warships stuck in the queue all across the system. Naval Logistics Depot 001-11, NLS Vesta, could have helped ease the congestion, but by the time engineering crews cleared the rubble and rigged temporary docking adapters Infinity would be long departed.

"So what're those weird sphere-shaped things?" Everest asked, pointing at the strange ordnance she'd seen going by for some time. "Don't look like any ammo I've ever fired."

"Plasma lance cells."

Everest blinked in surprise and looked down at the weapons officer at her side. "Plasma lance cells? We're bolting plasma weapons on our ships now?" It made objective sense, now that the war was over and humans and squids were on speaking terms, or at least not murder-on-sight terms, why pass up perfectly good weapons? But a large part of her, one molded by twenty years of genocidal war, recoiled at the very idea of cooperation with the hinge-heads. Peace? Fine, though it stung her pride humanity needed the respite. Diplomatic relationships? Alright, she didn't trust that Arbiter bastard further than the effective range of her main battery, but it seemed he was holding up his end of the don't-touch-me-and-I-don't-touch-you arrangement. Cooperation? Back the hell up. "What happened to good ol' fashioned coilguns?"

"Heh, your naval doctrines are forty years out of date. Allow me to explain," the officer replied, crossing her arms as she began to recite something clearly straight out of a tactical manual. "Plasma lances provide long-range firepower, effective at disrupting energy shielding, to an extent unmatched by coilguns. However, power generation and storage being equal, due to the need to ignite and contain the payload as well as accelerate it plasma lances have a lower rate of fire. In addition, coilguns can fire flexible payloads, including guided rounds. This makes coilguns more effective at delivering energy at close range and shaping battlespace." She looked quite proud of herself for remembering all that.

Interesting. The theory seems sound enough… but is it worth the logistical burden of having two types of ammunition? If it lets me punch harder, I should give it a look. Everest filed all that away for later. She pointed at a tram laden with hundreds of the things as it glided past the observation booth and said, "Okay, but, shit, I get the War's over, but doesn't bolting Covie tech onto our ships strike you as a mite too buddy-buddy? We aren't letting hinge-heads crawl all over our ships, are we? What about sabotage?"

The officer pulled a face and shook her head. "No, that's one-hundred-percent grass-fed, organic human tech. Okay, so we bought some working examples off the Swords — bargain bin price, split lips were desperate for farm machinery — but the fundamental MHD equations were worked out by a team at UL Crisium City and Hannibal R&D'd the mass production models ground-up. Only fingerprints are human fingerprints on those puppies." Her fingers drummed along the top of her console and a poorly disguised note of impatience entered her voice as she said, "Now, was that all you had to do here?"

Everest rose to the bait and said, "What, my face that ugly? Trying to get rid of me so quickly?"

"Bluntly, yeah, a bit," the officer said. As the shipgirl moved to retort she rubbed her forehead and let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, it's not your fault, any other time I'd buy you a drink and ask for an autograph, but scuttlebutt says Captain Shen's going to run surprise local weapons control drills. Under other circumstances I'd be more amenable, but right now you're getting in between me, my coffee, and my work." She turned away and pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and said, "As I said, if you're done here…"

"I see." Somewhat put off, Everest rubbed her chin in thought before grinning. "Well, I ain't Santa Claus, but let's see I can't solve one of your problems. Here, I'll just try and work a quick little miracle."

"Hm? What're you—" The officer turned around at the flash of light and sudden, loud clanking noise, followed by a slight popping sound, to see Everest in full armor, reactor on her back and propulsion units ready to fire, a cup of coffee in her hand. She stared as the shipgirl offered it up with an exaggerated bow.

"Votre café, lieutenant." Everest shook the cup so the slosh of liquid inside was audible. "Creamer and sugar'll cost you extra."

"… was the suit-up really necessary?" said the officer exasperatedly, scanning up and down Everest's armored form, tracing every miniature pipe and power cable as they snaked along her limbs, peeking out from beneath armor plating. Despite her words, she seemed rather transfixed by the sight of Everest's transformation, though not out of shock. Her eyes held a mixture of appreciation for well-tuned machinery, envy that she didn't have gear like that, and desire to take a wrench, hammer, and cutting torch and figure out how it all worked. "I mean, is that something you should really bring out so casually? Didn't you just get out of the infirmary?"

"All the more reason to see if it still works, don't you think?" Everest said, flexing her arm that wasn't occupied with the coffee, "Only the second time I've tried this, first time on purpose, so I wasn't sure it would work. Glad I didn't tear my ribs apart again, hah!"

"… I see now that I took Dawn's mundanity for granted. "

"Look, you want the coffee or not?" Everest shook the cup again. "Last call, yes or no?"

"Ugh, shut up and give that here." The officer all but snatched the drink out of Everest's hands and drained it, giving absolutely zero indication that she felt any pain from the near-scalding coffee or that she felt any trepidation at putting something that defied science and logic into her body. "Fuck me, that hit the spot," she said, wiping her mouth and smacking her lips in appreciation. "Handy trick, that. Spooky, but handy. I saw Dawn pull it off with her weapons, but I almost forgot you and her…well, whatever. Pretty good beans, by the way, if you'd care to name a source?"

Everest raised an eyebrow, having expected a rather more dramatic reaction and feeling slightly disappointed that it hadn't materialized. "Now don't you seem awfully unfazed by all this?"

The officer shrugged, shaking the last drops of coffee into her throat. "As I said, I've seen Dawn's combat recordings. Before then, I ate in the mess hall with her once or twice. Trust me, nothing destroys mystique like watching someone inhale a bowl of noodles and then try to sneak back in the line. And, no offense, get back to me once you've blown up an Abbie flagship and a dozen cruisers besides." Looking mournfully down at the empty cup, she said, "So yeah. I'm sure one of these days you'll pull a stunt that'll have people in line for your autograph. I'll be at the front of that line but until then? Welcome to the party, cool outfit, take a seat with your friends."

"Well, I'm very sorry to disappoint," Everest said, somewhat miffed. She then put her hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow. "Now, anything else to say? A word of thanks, perhaps?"

"Yeah, yeah, thank you. You're lucky your enlistment is still moving through the system." The officer rolled her eyes, but there was a genuine smile of gratitude on her expression as she said, "Really, thanks. It's…been a while since anyone followed up like that. I didn't think you'd do something like that for me." Shaking her head, she crumpled up the cup and looked around for a garbage can.

"No need for that." Everest snapped her fingers, causing the trash, followed by her rigging, to dissolve into small, shimmering points of light. She gave a small fist pump and said, "Getting better every day."

The officer shook her head, staring at her empty hand. "Goddamned sorcery. First guns, now coffee, you're going to pull an entire Scorpion out of your ass tomorrow, mark my words."

"Hah, just might!" Everest turned and ambled away, flicking a wave over her shoulder. "Seen what I came to see, I'll leave you to it."

The officer gave a two-finger salute and said, "Take care." Right before the door closed and cut her off, she added, "Oh, look me up some other time, and I'll return the favor."

Outside the observation booth, in a relatively empty corridor, Everest allowed herself to lean against the wall and let out a long breath. She put a hand to her chest, feeling the rise and fall of her lungs, the thumping of her heart, and underneath it all the humming of her reactor, invisible and immaterial yet undeniably there, turning a steady stream of fuel into the energy that coursed through her veins. Her heartbeat was noticeably faster, as well as her breathing. Though she'd managed to hide it well, making that cup of coffee took a noticeable chunk out of her stamina. She hadn't felt it while in armor, but now she was out of it a wave of fatigue washed over her. Everest couldn't remember being this drained when she double-tapped the Abyssal hunter with her MACs. Nor had other shipgirls seemed so drained in the combat footage Everest had been allowed to watch, despite creating and dispelling dozens of weapons. Maybe she needed to get her adrenaline up?

"Or maybe it's 'cause you nearly got your heart ripped out a few days ago." Her torso had closed up nicely, with only a thin line of scar tissue left where once her guts threatened to spill from her abdomen, but there were times she wasn't entirely sure her lungs didn't still have a leak in them. Though her physical wounds had healed thanks to the skilled hands of Navy doctors and her increased resilience, the sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh, along with the white-hot agony of having her insides turned into outsides by way of foreign object intrusion, would probably never leave her dreams. Thankfully, if everything went to plan, in dreams they would stay; she had no intention of trying a stunt like that again without a full set of armor and a big fucking gun, and she couldn't count on a burst of instant healing every time she donned her armor.

"Take it as a sign, girl, ease up on the gas a bit. Still worth it, though," Everest said, grunting as she pushed herself off the wall and dusted her hands off, "just need some more practice." And to figure out how it all actually worked, though that was a job for the scientists. She once again muttered a curse against that strange voice that had called her out from her eternal sleep — couldn't it at least have left a user's manual behind it?

"Everything alright, Everest?" A British-accented voice sounded in her head, causing her to jump and swear. "If you ever feel like fainting without warning, be sure to let me know — preferably without the language."

"Good to see some things don't change," Everest shot back, stepping into the corridor properly and heading off towards the nearest tram station on the way to her next stop on her tour of the ship. She flipped the air the bird as well, knowing one of the many security cameras around would pick the gesture up. "You Smart AIs are still glow-in-the-dark shitheads who don't know how to mind your own business. Takes me way back."

"I do try." Roland's tone shifted to something more sincere. "Seriously, though, you good? You didn't look great back there."

"That? Ah, pulled a stunt I probably shouldn't have. No regrets, though, was good practice."

"Ah, yes, the coffee. You know, I had a thought, if you're creating it with no outside input, that technically means that coffee came from inside you, right? Then does that mean that poor, innocent officer has a cup of Everest swimming in her stomach right now? I mean, clearly you're not entirely human, given all the magic and rampant physics-breaking, but it's close enough that it still feels like cannibalism—"

"Shut your pretty little face hole before I find your data core and do it for you," Everest said cheerfully and with a smile as she squelched the comms channel. Infinity's flippant shipboard AI reminded her of other Smart AIs she'd known, though Roland was more powerful and complex. Much longer-lived too. How in the world had they solved the rampancy problem? In her time, it had appeared to be a fundamental principle of neural-pattern based AI creation; she still had dozens of now-outdated papers on the subject in her databanks. She didn't go accessing them, though. Thinking about computer science and AI theory made her head hurt. She firmly shelved the topic for a later time.

A tram pulled into the station just as Everest arrived. She stepped in, accompanied by a slight gust of air, and let out a grunt of appreciation as she settled onto a cushioned bench and buckled in. She looked out the front window, marveling at the barely visible sheen of one of the energy shields subdividing the tram line into sections. It was a simple traffic control and safety measure, but the fact that energy shields were common enough technology in the UNSC to permit so mundane a use was… staggering, to be honest. It was these apparently mundane things that took Everest off guard. The bigger picture was familiar enough — the Navy would always be the Navy — but it was the small things, like widespread plasma weapons and energy shields, that caught her off guard and reminded her that she'd essentially time traveled forty years into the future.

"Could've damn well used that during the War," Everest said, a slightly bitter taste on her tongue reminiscent of the dust and glass particles that swirled in the upper atmosphere after a glassing. For a moment, she could once again feel the heat of pulse lasers and plasma torpedos on her skin before she shrugged and said, "Eh, spilled milk. We've made it this far haven't we?" She kicked one leg over another and settled back into her seat. "Wasn't all for nothing, old girl."

A couple of off-duty sailors got onto the tram as well. Though both shot strange looks at her face, but neither seemed to fully recognize her. Somewhat bruising to her ego, but then again her face wasn't plastered across GNN like Forward Unto Dawn's was. To be fair, if the reports and news articles she read while cooped up in bed were anything to go by, the other shipgirl had done quite a bit more during her second go-around on the mortal plane than Everest had so far in hers. So it was only fair, and besides, if she was lucky Everest would be adding some glory to her name soon enough. She'd never fought one of these Abyssals in naval combat before, but she already had the ability to summon her MACs, courtesy of copious blood loss and an Abyssal claw through her abdomen, and with sufficient application of kinetic energy even the most alien of technologies had a tendency to explode.

Though, if Everest knew anything about frigates, it was that being at the center of attention and gossip wasn't their strong suit. The cruiser snickered impishly; she was looking forward to ribbing Dawn about that, once she finally met her in person and not through a one-way window in a quarantine ward."Alright, Roland," she said, opening the channel as the tram started accelerating, "Last stop, next stop, right? Gimme the Traveler's Digest — uh, assuming they're still publishing that thing. Shit, did I just date myself?"

"Were you laughing at something? Well, whatever. And no, they stopped printing that rag when their offices got glassed in '50. Good riddance."

Now that was a change Everest could get behind. "Yeah, no fucking kidding. Receiving that piece of shit tabloid was a waste of my perfectly good bandwidth. Anyway, preview, please."

"Certainly." A map appeared in her mind's eye. "You are currently en route to S Deck, home of Infinity's Spartan complement. Mostly Spartan IVs, though we do get the occasional II and III. And by occasionally, I mean once in a blue moon, and most don't know until they're gone."

"About damn time we got there," she said, then continued, "Spartan IIs… like 087, 058, 117, right? Y'all got a cloning machine to just pump them out now?"

"Nah, just got better at making them. The future is now, old man!" Roland chirped. "This is your first official meet-and-greet, so do try to be presentable… though I heard you jumped the gun and made the acquaintance of a few already."

Everest nodded. "Aye, Fireteam Torrent or something, and Palmer I believe? Wasn't paying too much attention to names at the time, but they were a solid bunch."

"That's understandable. I've a good feeling they'll forgive you. Torrent's actually looking forward to seeing you again; though they'd never admit it, their mission probably wouldn't have gone quite as smoothly without your help."

"When has my glorious presence ever not improved a situation?"

Roland chose to change the topic as the tram pulled into its next station. It stopped briefly, allowing the two sailors to step off and a few new ones to board, before the doors closed, the next set of shields dropped, and it went on its way. "There's still an hour or so until the labs are ready, so you better start thinking about conversation topics. Or just say hi and then go to the mess hall or something. If you're a wuss."

"Watch me. I'll charm the socks off these jokers." Everest gave her arms and experimental stretch cracked her neck to both sides with a satisfying pop of cartilage. With a smirk she said, "Wonder if they'd be up for a spar?"

Roland laughed disbelievingly. "Barbarian. I swear, at least Dawn had an existent self-preservation instinct. If you open your wounds and the doctors have to put you back together again, I'll be there in the OR the entire time, pointing and laughing."

Everest had a perfectly functional self-preservation instinct! So what if it wasn't always the highest priority process in her brain? "Hmph. You're talking awfully flippantly to someone who, quote, partakes of rampant physics-breaking. I look forward to seeing if you can keep that attitude after I've taken a crowbar to your data matrix."

"Rampant physics-breaking, genetic deviations, and supernatural powers notwithstanding, you're evidently perfectly human where it counts — namely, your penchant for crude violence." The various lights and signs whizzing past in a blur began to slow into distinct shapes as the gentle force of deceleration pressed against Everest. The other passengers in the tram collected their belongings and stood up. Everest eyed them, wondering if she should as well, when Roland said, "This is your stop, by the way. I'll leave you to it; let me know when you get lost," he said as the tram came to a stop and the doors opened with a ding.

"Quit reading my mind." Everest got up somewhat reluctantly, getting in a few last leg stretches as she did. The bench was quite comfortable, a far cry from the barebones seating that her old hull's tram system had sported. Perks of being designed as a last bastion for your species, where small comforts like cushioned seats and green spaces mattered quite a bit. Certainly, if she had to spend her entire life sitting on hard seats and without seeing a bit of chlorophyll, she might go a bit loopy. She then stepped out the door, shivering slightly at a sudden breeze, and onto the station platform. Walking past another group of technicians boarding the tram, she called up a map, set herself a waypoint and set off for S-deck, enjoying the people-watching opportunities her height afforded her.

Though she lacked the asked-for credentials, the elevator's floor selector accepted her input of S-deck. Everest suspected Roland. One stomach-dropping high-speed elevator ride later, she stepped out into the air of S-deck. The overhead LEDs blinded her for a brief moment before her irises contracted and she slapped a filter over her visual sensor feed. It was a rather futile effort, however; as soon as the spots cleared from her eyes her senses were immediately assaulted by another profusion of data.

The first thing she noticed was how tall the cavernous deck was, at least five, six stories eyeballing the roof. She'd seen entire ships with less internal volume than this place! Hell, as she looked around in amazement, a Warthog drove by on the main walkway with room to spare on either side! The second thing she noticed was just how noisy it was. The air was filled with the sounds of clanking armor, whirring equipment, grunts and shouts and laughter. Added to that was the slight whiff of grease and sweat — humanity, in other words — that rigorously applied chemical sanitizers and diligent cleaning robots could not totally disguise. Despite the metal and machinery surrounding and dwarfing the decks' human occupants, the noise and smell created an atmosphere more reminiscent of a marine barracks than a high-tech facility.

The final thing she noticed was the source of that noise: Spartans, they had to be, for who else could wear that unmistakable armor? Even if they held themselves slightly different than the ones she remembered, and their armor looked sleeker, more advanced, but also mass-produced rather than custom-tooled, there was no mistaking that nearly unnatural poise and grace that each one possessed. There were so many of them; Everest counted over a hundred before she gave up. The sight of the super soldiers just standing around, talking, exercising, checking their equipment, brought her back to the early days of the War, when Battle Group X-Ray was still racing around the Outer Colonies, trying to put out fire after plasma-ignited fire. In those early, uncertain, terrifying days, those silent, hulking, power-armored Spartan-IIs who technically didn't exist bore the hopes of an entire fleet upon their shoulders.

"I really am getting old," she muttered, stepping a group of deck-sweeping robots, "reminiscing about the good ol' days. Ugh." Hooking her thumbs into her pockets, she set off along the walkway with no particular destination in mind, drinking in the sight softly singing an old sea shanty. "What shall we do with a drunken sailor, what shall we do with a drunken sailor? What shall we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning!"

"Into the brig with them."

"Mein Gott—!"

Everest jumped, spun, and tried to strike out all at the same time. The white-armored Spartan sneaking up behind her shifted her unhelmeted head a bare centimeter and let the punch whiff. "I seem to recall our first meeting going something like this," the Spartan said, as if she hadn't narrowly avoided a broken nose, "Is this a habit of yours or something?"

"Beg your pardon?" Everest said, fists still up in a boxing guard stance. The Spartan rolled her eyes and mimed dual-wielding pistols. "Oh. Oh, it's you! Palmer, uh, Commander Palmer, right?"

"Excellent recollection. I'm glad you weren't hit too hard on the head."

"So am I. Fancy meeting you here! Good to put a face to the helmet." Everest stuck out her hand. "I never did thank you for pulling my ass out of that mess, did I? Thank you."

Palmer looked down at the hand for a second before shaking her head and holding out her own. "I never know what to expect form you shipgirls, but at least you're refreshing," she said, giving a firm handshake before stepping back. "It was only part of the job. Wouldn't be very good Spartans if we left an asset behind, not after you caved in so many Abbie skulls. But you're welcome." She gave a rueful smile. "We — Torrent and I — owe you thanks as well. You didn't have to help us."

"Nah, hell would I do if I didn't?" Everest glanced around. "So where is Torrent? I heard they wanted to talk?"

In response, Palmer looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Everest frowned and was about to speak when, with a slight electric crackle of dropping active camo, four MJOLNIR-clad super soldiers appeared from thin air around her. If her rigging had been out, she might have put a hole through the hull right then and there. As it was she nearly fell over, exclaiming, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph — again?!"

A muffled, rhythmic sound came from one of the blue-armored soldiers, which Everest realized was laughter as the Spartan doubled over, hands on knees. The other Spartans didn't have quite so drastic a reaction, but they were obviously laughing too, hands on hips and shoulders slightly shaking. As Everest regained her stability, the doubled-over one straightened up and reached out a helping hand.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, "but I can't believe you fell for that twice!"

"Fuck you," Everest grumbled, looking at the ceiling. "How long were you following me?"

"Since the park, I reckon."

Everest threw up her hands in frustration. "Fucking amazing. Roland, were you in on this?" The AI's silence was enough of an answer. "Damn you."

Palmer stepped in, shooting Torrent a look to behave. "I put them up to it, in case you're wondering. Wanted to get a better idea of your abilities. You almost caught them a couple of times, but in the end seems like Spartans are still on top." Though her tone remained professional, she couldn't help but indulge in a self-satisfied smile. And from the looks of it, Torrent didn't feel much chastised either.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Good for you." Everest crossed her arms and frowned. "So, you got me here. What do you want?"

"Well, just to say hi, I guess. Ask how you were doing. You gave us a big hand, so it seemed only right," another Torrent Spartan said.

"Could've dropped in while I was in hospital."

"True," the Spartan said, conceding the point with a shrug. "But we also wanted to have a, ah, a little competition? Besides the stalking, I mean. Seemed only practical to kill two birds with one stone."

Despite herself, Everest perked up a bit. "A competition, you say?"

Palmer nodded. "Sparring's a step too far, wouldn't want you to bruise that pretty face so soon, but I reckon a little shooting match would be good practice for us all. Build some rapport, all that jazz. Vaughn here's one of our top pistol shots and I reserved a slot for you two on the range." The commander cocked her head to the side and smiled. "Unless you're scared you'll lose?"

"Hah!" Everest let out a loud laugh, then leveled a sneering grin. "You're talking to the winner of the 2515 Fleet Gunnery Competition," she boasted. "I could hit a Pelican in Jupiter orbit from LEO! You sure you want to do this?"

In response, the Spartan identified as Vaughn punched his palm and cracked his knuckles. "Took out seven Storm Jackal snipers with a revolver and a busted shield generator on Éirinn Nua. Do I want to do this? Bring it on, old-timer!" He made a 'come at me' gesture and Everest could tell he was smirking under his helmet. "Let's see if Sydney was a fluke."

Everest couldn't help it — even as she tried to stay mad, her sneer widened and she could feel her crew, ten thousand faint wisps brushing against her mind with an almost imperceptible gentleness, champing at the bit with excitement. Her body reacted similarly, her heart beating faster and her pupils widening as her sensor suite began to warm up. "Your funeral," she said, jerking her head towards the firing range and stretching her arms behind her. "Don't blame me if you get shown up!"

"UNSC Infinity, this is Solar System Space Traffic Control. Confirm receipt and understanding of maneuver solution, over."

"Sol STC, this is UNSC Infinity. Confirmed, maneuver solution received and understood. Sending confirmation and clearance codes, over."

"UNSC Infinity, Sol STC. Your codes received and confirmed. You are clear to proceed to the jump point. Bon voyage, and thanks again, Infinity. Out."

"Much obliged," Captain Shen said to no one in particular, then turned to the navigation officer and said, "NAV, Roland, confirm solution."

"Aye, sir, maneuver solution verified and entered."

"Fancy numbers copied and pasted, sir."

"Very good." Shen nodded and said, "Lieutenant Pierre, execute the burn."

"Aye, sir, executing burn. Main propulsion, firing now."

Infinity's titanic Forerunner-derived main propulsion units flared blue with barely restrained energy, accelerating the ship onto a burn towards the Jovian jump point. Acceleration bled away into the inertial dampeners, leaving the crew nice and comfy and on their feet, as opposed to flat on their backs and struggling to breathe. To the bridge crew, all strapped into crash couches as per standard procedure, it made little difference, but to the two guests standing on their own two feet it was much appreciated.

"And we're on our way," Lasky said, "After jump, trip should take around twelve hours."

Staring out one of the bridge windows, Amber nodded in response. "Record was four days back then. Just after Reach fell." She shook her head and said in a near-whisper. "Eight times faster, and we're not even going all out. And I'd be lucky to make it in a week."

"You can thank the Forerunners for that," Captain Shen called from his crash couch next to the main display table, hiding a small smile at the compliment for his ship. "Let us skip over all of that pesky trial and error and start using the good stuff right away."

Nodding along with a smile as well — Infinity was his ship at one point, and after all this time he still smiled at her triumphs and winced at her hurts — Lasky said, "That record was Lieutenant Wagner, if I'm not mistaken. I was on Luna at the time; I still remember when that Prowler jumped in unscheduled." The admiral shook his head. "I apologize, I'm afraid I can't recall your deployment at that time."

Standing across from him at the display table, Amber shrugged and said, "It's not important, sir. Earth was in danger, I'm a footnote in comparison to that."

"Hm." Lasky looked pensive for a moment longer, then turned to Captain Shen. "Captain Shen, thank you for indulging me. It's time I get back to my job and out of your hair."

"Of course, Admiral."

Lasky turned and gestured for Amber to follow, exchanging salutes with the marine door outside the bridge door as he passed. She hurried around the table to catch up and shooting one last look at the bridge before the blast doors sealed behind her.

As the two walked down the corridor leading to and from Infinity's bridge, Lasky said, "Your new commission suits you, ensign. I trust the uniform fit correctly?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, just fine." Amber plucked at her pants legs, then rubbed the rank insignia on her upper arm. It felt a little strange, having a rank, a uniform, a salary, and a military ID with her portrait on it. They marked her out as a person, rather than a metal hull with a naval registry ID, a coat of gunmetal-grey radiation-reflective paint, and a veteran's association fund. This way, she wasn't being acknowledged as a piece of equipment, but rather an individual person in the service of the UNSC. It wasn't bad, just… different.

She'd voiced those feelings to Roland, talking from within her cabin's bathroom as she changed into a uniform dropped off by a somewhat overawed sailor. In response, he'd said, "Better you than me. Dealing with human adult responsibilities — no thank you! Besides, you shipgirls are a rather adaptable lot, seem to be taking this entire human life thing in stride, so I reckon this won't be too great a shock to the system. Now, chop-chop, and don't tell me you don't know how to work a zipper!" Then she'd hurried off to meet a stern-faced commander who walked her through the oath of service, gave her a few documents to sign, and then handed over her ID card and rank badges. And just like that, Amber found herself officially an ensign in the UNSC Navy. "I suppose I've come a long way since I was a prisoner in a cell," she said, attempting a joke.

Lasky let out a breath at the reminder of his less-than-warm welcome. "I suppose you have." Changing the subject, he said, "The research team should be ready in a few minutes. I trust that all the experimental procedures were explained to you in sufficient detail?"

"Yes, sir," Amber replied, eyes fixed forward. "If it'll help us understand exactly how I work, then I'm ready for anything."

"Good to hear." Now in a quiet side corridor, Lasky gradually came to a stop and turned to face Amber. It took her a moment to realize they'd stopped, almost bumping into him before raising her eyes to see a grimace on his face. "It occurs to me that I never apologized for the treatment you received at our hands… at my command. Before the opportunity slips us by, I'd like to make sure that I do."

"O-oh!" Amber's eyes flew wide and her hands came up to wave in denial. "That's not necessary, sir, it was the right thing to do at the time! T-there was only Dawn's word to go on, and you couldn't know that I wasn't an Abyssal."

"Perhaps," Lasky said, crossing his arms, "but I still let my emotions get the better of me and failed to take into consideration new evidence in a timely manner. It was inappropriate and unbecoming, and for that you deserve an apology." He looked to the side and his jaw tightened before he continued, saying, "I can't erase the past, nor can I prevent it from coloring the present, but I do hope that we'll be able to have a professional working relationship in the future."

"…" Amber was silent for a moment. To be honest, compared to everything else she'd been through, in both the past and her new life, the admiral's inhospitality had pretty much faded into the background. And the other people she'd met, Dawn, Captain Garcia, the medical staff, even Berlin to a tiny, tiny extent, had helped her feel much more welcome. But she couldn't deny that Lasky's actions had cast a dark cloud over the chain of command, one that kept her from being fully comfortable. But it seemed like he was being sincere in his apology, and genuinely wanted to make amends. If that was the case, then…

"May I have permission to speak candidly, sir?" At Lasky's nod, she said, "I don't mean to offend, of course, but you did mistreat me. N-not as a prisoner of war, but after it was apparent that the Abyssal and I were not the same entity. And… I won't pretend I don't feel any resentment at that." Lasky eyes were pained, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "And I can't forget that. However, you did eventually give me a chance to prove myself, and you accepted the results of that experiment. And I hear you ensured that I was provided medical care in Infinity's facilities." Amber took a somewhat shaky breath and plowed ahead. "What I'm trying to say, is that there's no need to hope, sir," she said. "We both serve Earth and humanity, don't we? As long as our goals are the same, I see no reason we can't move on and cooperate in the future."

Lasky's expression morphed into a relieved smile. "I'm glad to hear it, ensign." He sighed and rubbed his chin, saying, "Though I'd like to do something specific to make it up to you, legally and ethically I can't. However, if Agent Berlin, or ONI in general, starts giving you too much trouble, feel free to let me know. I may not be able to do anything directly, but in my time as an officer I have made some connections that could prove helpful."

"Of course, sir," Amber replied, before fully realizing what Lasky had said. Taking a step back in surprise, she said, "W-wait, you know about my… my situation, sir?"

Lasky arched an eyebrow. "Certainly. Did you forget who signed off on your transfer to ONI in the first place?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head in a self-deprecating sort of way. "Not my finest moment. I regret and apologize for the decision, but I don't have the power to do anything about it now." He held up a hand to forestall the string of worries and pleas about to spill from Amber's lips. "Don't worry. My lips are sealed so long as you wish them to be. But as I'm the one who put you into this mess, it's only right that I offer you a lifeline, thin and tenuous as it may be."

"I… well… thank you, sir." Truthfully, that was more than Amber had hoped for. She was well aware of the distaste most mainline personnel held for ONI, a distaste that she shared, but at least Lasky wasn't holding it against her. "I promise, it won't interfere with my duties."

"I'll hold you to that, ensign. In turn, I do hope you'll inform me, or someone you can trust, if you're truly caught in a dilemma." Lasky looked off into the middle distance for a moment before refocusing on Amber, expression serious. "Agent Berlin, for all her abrasiveness, strikes me as relatively harmless. As much as she seems to be expanding her portfolio nowadays, she's Internal Security through and through, which is to say she won't give two hoots about anything aside from rooting out Insurrectionists and other subversive groups. Manipulating the Fleet Auxiliary Forces for her personal gain, pointing you at ONI's private grudges, running shady experiments, doesn't seem to be part of her MO. However, she is, ultimately, part of ONI's command structure, which means that ONI Command may try to act through her in some fashion. Hypocritical as it is coming from the one who put you in your current position, I advise you to watch yourself around her."

"I'll keep it in mind, sir." Feeling a little bolder than usual, Amber said, "I'll make sure to let you or Captain Garcia know if I pick up on something shady happening."

Lasky smiled sadly. "Thank you for that." He placed a hand on his temple, consulting the clock in his neural lace. "Now, the research team should be ready, so I won't keep you any longer. Please avoid overexertion, ensign. It won't do anyone any good if you get sent back to the hospital."

"Understood, sir!" Amber saluted, turned and walked off in the direction of the labs. After a few steps, however, another thought occurred to her and she stopped. The boldness not quite gone, she turned and said, "Excuse me, sir, I-I have one more question, if that's not too much of a bother."

Lasky raised an eyebrow and lowered a datapad he'd just taken out. "Go ahead, ensign."

"Sir, I'd like to ask… did you request my presence on the bridge just to say all that to me?"

Lasky stared at her for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter and lifted his hands in surrender. "Guilty as charged, ensign." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and said, "I've always found hard topics easier to broach in impromptu settings. I hope you'll forgive me for trying to create one."

Amber cracked a half-smile. "Aye aye, sir. My lips are sealed so long as you wish them to be."

With Lasky's laugh still ringing in her ears, Amber set off, following the instructions that Roland sent over to her. According to the map, the way to Infinity's science decks was pretty straightforward, just grab a tram and then an elevator with the proper clearance. However, the AI had asked her to swing by S-deck on the way, where apparently Everest was hanging out. "If you wouldn't mind swinging by and picking her up," he'd said, "I'd talk to her myself, but I appreciate my data core intact. Plus, it's about time you two made each other's acquaintance."

One tram and elevator ride later, Amber stepped out onto S-deck. As she tried not to gawp at the sheer number of Spartans milling around, she heard some sort of commotion at one of the three firing ranges positioned around the deck.

"Come on, Vaughn!"

"I've got fifty credits on you, Everest, don't you dare lose!"

The shouting and cheering was suddenly drowned out by a rapid series of gunshots. Amber winced then ran over, torn between, exasperation, worry, and curiosity. Alternately dealing out apologies and elbows, she pushed her way through a small crowd of Spartans, most of whom dwarfed her even out of their armor, before emerging at the front. Sending mental apologies to the trail of grumbling in her wake, she got her first good look at what seemed to be quite the event.

"Sorry, Spartan." Wearing a helmet lined with an array of miniature sensors and probes that Amber recognized as 2540 vintage and holding a slightly smoking pistol, a woman who could only be Everest smirked at her opponent. "Looks like that's my win."

"Ugh…" Next to her, a Spartan in full armor shook his head and holstered his own pistol. Downrange of the two, a variety of targets filled with bullet holes were being taken away for disposal. Some were pretty standard, circles, squares, and humanoid and alien cutouts. Others, though, Amber had no earthly idea how either of the two scored hits on them. Some were small to the point of absurdity, others placed in far corners of the range, yet others hidden behind pop up obstacles with only the thinnest of windows to score hits. Each and every single one had a pair of holes drilled through the center ring. "That helmet of yours is cheating, I swear it!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have agreed to let me wear it. 'Sides, you got your armor, didn't you?" Everest's pistol dissolved into motes of dust and quickly-fading sparkles, followed by her helmet as she patted the Spartan's shoulder in faux contrition. "You're good, but like I said, I've got the computers on my side."

"Well, I didn't think it'd let you do that!" The Spartan gestured incredulously at a target that, from what Amber could see, had been hit by a bullet ricocheting off the roof, the far wall, and the floor to strike it from behind.

"Simple geometry." Everest tapped her forehead. "Once you understand high-velocity deformation physics between the hard objects, characterize local gravitational and magnetic fields, and model the atmospheric currents, it's just plug-and-chug multivariate until you hit the target… though I guess it's easier when you've got a calculator." She shrugged and said, "Can't win 'em all my guy. You've still got me beat at hand-to-hand if it's any consolation."

"Yeah, yeah," the Spartan grumbled, though the salinity of his voice was significantly lower. "I hope you know this ain't over, we'll be having a rematch."

"Looking forward to it." The two shook hands. Like it was a signal, the crowd began to disperse, with some money changing hands. Spartan Vaughn left as well, after fist-bumping Everest, leaving just the two shipgirls in front of the suddenly quiet range. "Ah, that was refreshing!" Everest stretched her arms above her head and grinned. Addressing the air, she said, "I needed that, I'll give you that much, Roland."

As Everest continued to stretch, Amber screwed up her courage and said, "Um, e-excuse me!"

"Hm?" As Everest turned towards her and their eyes met, Amber felt a tugging on her consciousness. Suddenly, she was seeing double, Everest's body occupying the same space as a hazy mirage, a blocky, gunmetal-grey hull bristling with guns and sensors, trailing fusion fire and covered in armor thicker than Heaven's walls. From the way Everest blinked and tilted her head, she was probably seeing something similar. "A… shipgirl?"

Suddenly keenly aware that she was in the presence of the UNSC Everest, Amber jumped to respond. "Y-yes! My name is In Amber Clad, it's an honor to meet you, Everest!"

Everest raised an eyebrow as Amber bowed at the waist. "Um, nice to meet you too? My apologies, but I don't recognize you."

"Ah, y-yes, I was built after your, um…"

"Death? Ah, I see. Mid-late 40s, early 50s then. Charon-class? No, those engine blocks are definitely Stalwart…" Everest put a hand to her chin, then snapped her fingers. "Ah! In Amber Clad! I remember now, I read about you. Delta Halo, right? You fucked up the Covies good. Sorry for not recognizing you." The cruiser tsked at Amber's continued bow. "Oh, come off it, no more of that. Stand up. Back straight, chin up, eyes forward. I oughta be bowing to you, you did more to hurt the Covies than I ever did."

"What?" Amber straightened up, furiously shaking her head. "But you… Admiral Cole's Last Stand, Psi Serpentis, Battlegroup X-ray! You killed an entire fleet, inspired everyone to keep fighting! I just… it wasn't even me at that point."

"Yeah, well, all that inspiration didn't really do jack or shit to turn the tide, did it? But you helped kill one of their prophets, which lead to their government disintegrating." Everest frowned and shook her head. "It's just a damn shame what it cost you. I'd rather get caught in a nova than deal with those creepy crawly zombie bastards, thank God I never did." As Amber's face fell and her hands trembled slightly, Everest suddenly pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, by the way," the cruiser said, voice slightly muffled.

"For what?"

"For helping make it all worth it." Everest held her for a moment longer until the trembling stopped, then let go and stuck her hand out. "I'm looking forward to working together!"

Amber gave herself a mental slap and reciprocated the gesture, a bit awestruck that she was shaking the UNSC Everest's hand. "M-me too!"

Everest gave her an indulgent, yet reassuring smile. "Now, I'll bet you didn't drop by just to say hi. Roland sent you to get me?"

"Oh. Yeah, how did you know?"

"Bastard mentioned something about making friends and then you showed up. Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."

"R-right. Ahem!" Amber straightened up and cleared her throat, suddenly remembering that she was here on a mission. "Roland wanted me to tell you that the labs are ready for us now and that we should head over. That is, uh, if you don't have anything else to do here? If you do, that's totally fine and all, I just—"

"Nah, it's good. I'm all set here, said hi to the people I needed to say hi to. Ain't that right?" Everest craned her neck to peer over Amber's shoulder. The frigate swiveled around to follow Everest's gaze, which landed on a white-armored Spartan leaning on a nearby support column and watching the two shipgirls. The Spartan nodded silently in response. "Excellent. Well, let's be off then! Time to find out how we work."

Everest clapped a hand on Amber's shoulder and steered her away from the firing range and towards the nearest elevators. They kept talking along the way, inane little things like their favorite foods so far — mashed potatoes for Amber, falafels, but only with spicy sauce, for Everest — the quality of the beds (mixed), and the technological developments that had taken place in their absence. This conversation kept them occupied as they made the short trek from S-deck to the Science deck, registered with the security checkpoint at the front, and entered the main laboratory section.

"Hello!" A man in a lab coat met them in the large circular atrium. Doors around the circumference of the room lead to various office wings like spokes on a wheel, while the atrium itself was tastefully furnished with benches, a few plants, and a break area with a water cooler. Elevators in the center, along with an emergency stairwell, lead to the other levels that extended down and out from Infinity's aft. "Miss Everest and Ensign In Amber Clad, am I correct?"

"That's us."

"Great." The man wrote something down on his datapad, then pocketed it and gestured to Everest. "Thank you for your punctuality. Everest, I've been instructed to bring you to Lab B3. Since you're not yet registered with the personnel database, there's some extra documentation we'll have to take care of. If you'd care to follow me now?"

"Duty calls and all that rot." Everest clapped Amber on the back, sending her stumbling forward a step. "I'll catch you later. Take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Y-you too!" Amber waved as the man lead Everest towards the elevators, then for lack of anything else to do took a seat on a bench. It was comfortable and cushioned and she must have been more tired than she thought because within a few minutes she found herself close to nodding off, only to have her nap interrupted by the sound of clicking heels.

"Ah, In Amber Clad. Or, I suppose Ensign In Amber Clad, now." Two people, a man and a woman clad in white lab coats, approached her. The man got there first, expression all business. "Thank you for coming here today. My name is Doctor Deepak Chandra, Naval Intelligence Section III, Xenotechnology Division." He stuck his hand out to shake. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"And I am Doctor Su Huatian." The woman gave a shallow bow as Amber accepted the handshake. "Department of Defense, Navy Research and Development Directorate."

"A… pleasure?" Naval Intelligence? Well, it's not like that was surprising; they probably wanted to have eyes on any experiments performed on their asset, along with the general principle of dipping their fingers in all available pies. It also seemed like there were some mainline Navy researchers present, so they might act to keep the more… zealous Naval Intelligence personnel in line. However, Amber couldn't help but remember Berlin's words about packing her off to the Oort Cloud as she released Chandra's hand.

"Quite." Su picked up a nearby datapad, tapped a few times, then turned the screen towards Amber. "Ensign, could you please confirm that you recognize and have read, understood, and signed these documents?"

Grimacing at her chicken scratch of a signature, Amber said, "I-yes? I did."

"Splendid. Doctor Chandra?"

"Thank you, Doctor Su." The conversation was perfectly professional, but Amber thought her auditory processors could discern a thin undercurrent of tension between them. As if to confirm, a slightly wary look passed between them as Chandra turned and gestured for Amber to follow him. "Ensign, we'll be working in Lab B4. We'll take this elevator one level down, and then take your basic vitals and biometrics"

Inside the bare-bones exam room, a pair of corpsmen clad in ONI-insignia'd scrubs and surgical masks measured Amber's height, weight, temperature, blood pressure, resting heart and breathing rate, and a myriad of other statistics as Chandra took notes on a laptop. Amber looked away and tried not to think of spiked tentacles as they took a series of blood draws, then opened her mouth for them to swab saliva. A nasal swab left her coughing, but thankfully they gave her a curtain and left the room as she provided a urine sample. Amber wasn't sure what they were looking for in there, besides confirming she had the plumbing; it didn't look any different than what she thought it ought to, but maybe her kidneys functioned somewhat differently?

"Thank you, this data will prove invaluable," Chandra said after he returned. He put on a pair of glasses and pulled on a pair of gloves, then said, "Would you be available to provide another set of samples in two weeks time? We would like to have a point of comparison."

"O-of course." Privately, Amber wasn't sure she had much left to give. "But there's more, right?"

Chandra gave a half-smile. "On the money, I'm afraid. We have water, but if you're hungry I'm afraid you'll have to endure it." Amber kind of was but decided not to mention it. "We will now proceed to the direct manipulation phase. Please follow me."

In comparison to the small examination room, the laboratory was spacious and richly equipped, neatly organized yet packed with equipment. Some, like the scanning probe and electron microscopes and radiation spectrometers she recognized. Others, she couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of. Many devices were attached to carts that ran on tracks, able to be moved to surround a central platform. Joined by several other scientists, Chandra motioned for Amber to step onto the platform.

Stepping into a pair of white shoe-shaped outlines, Amber glanced around, only to jump as an energy shield shimmered to life around the platform. "Not to worry!" called Chandra at her slightly panicked look, "Simply a precaution."

"You could have given her some warning," Su said as she entered the laboratory, shooting Chandra a reproachful look. "But what's done is done. In Amber Clad, as part of IRB regulations, we are required to inform you that you may withdraw your consent at any time during the study. However, certain experiments may need to run their course before we can safely halt the study. You will be informed before these experiments. Do you understand this?"

Amber took a long breath and calmed herself. This wasn't some ONI Oort Cloud lab, nor was she in the clutches of some alien entity. This was the UNSC Infinity; worse come to worst, Everest was a couple of rooms over. "I understand."

"Yes, yes, very good," Chandra said impatiently. "All stations confirm readiness." The other scientists responded in a chorus of affirmatives. "Recording, start. I am Doctor Deepak Chandra, principal co-investigator along with Doctor Su Huatian. The subject of this experiment series is Ensign In Amber Clad, UNSC Navy. We will begin by quantifying changes in the subject's mass during manifestation and demanifestation of the subject's equipment. In Amber Clad, please manifest your rigging."

In too deep to back out now, Amber closed her eyes. In her mind, she reached out for her hull, the places where her nerves, blood, and skin ended and wires, fuel lines, and armor began, and the places where the two wove in and out of each other so she couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. She pressed her hands against the thin wall that kept them separate and gave a slight push—

The scientists murmured as Amber's rigging appeared with a flash and a crack and the platform squeaked under the suddenly increased load. This was the second time she had ever done this, the first time deliberately, and she stumbled slightly at the sudden shift in her center of gravity. But only slightly, and she quickly recovered, as the discomfort of a fusion reactor suddenly hanging off her back gave way to warm familiarity, like her rigging was just an extension of her body that had always been there. "A significant mass increase." Chandra sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Though I should wonder whether the inertial and gravitational masses correspond. Let me see, what g does Infinity use again?"

"Quit the tangents," Su said, rapping his shoulder with a pen, "We've got a long list still to come." She typed something into her console then said, "We will now repeat this observation and in addition attempt to identify changes in the subject's body temperature during the manifestation and demanifestation processes. Ensign, please step forward…"

Amber tuned out the rest of Su's exposition. She could already see that this was going to be a rather tedious process and didn't want to waste more mental energy than she had to. She followed the instructions on autopilot, moving carefully so that she didn't accidentally whack something with her rigging, and made a wish that they would let her sit down once or twice through the ordeal. It wouldn't do for her to finish here only to immediately pass out on her bed — after spending days cooped up in her room, the last thing she wanted to do was sleep more. Otherwise, as a lab assistant came forward with a basket of thermometers, she could only hope that her pains resulted in something useful for the scientists.

"Captain Garcia, have you looked over the materials Admiral Lasky sent you?"

"Yes." Garcia gave the images and reports spread out on his desk one last look and let out a weary sigh. Three hours since Hope Springs Eternal jumped for Reach, all spent reading reports. He'd hoped to spend the slipspace jump back to Reach resting and enjoying what meager comforts Eternal had to offer, but no sooner had one battle concluded than the next looked set to start. At least this one would take place far from human worlds, though that was cold comfort to those about to die far from the light of Sol. "I haven't been keeping up with the Sangheili side of things as much as I should, but isn't it rather embarrassing that we had to learn about these attacks from the Councilor instead our own forces in the area?"

"The Imperium is quite fussy whenever we try to venture outside Sanghelios or the frontlines, so we typically have no assets in those systems. That we have eyes on now is because the Sangheili can't afford to be picky where they draw their reinforcements from."

"I suppose that's fair," Garcia said, "though you'd think something would've leaked in two days." He cast another eye over the reports, trying to work up the will to continue reading. They were remarkably barebones, probably for opsec purposes, but contained all the essential facts: Abyssal attacks on rear-echelon Sangheili systems, Imperial forces scrambling to respond, a request for the UNSC's aid in the counterattack. It echoed their sudden attacks on Reach and Earth a bit too much for Garcia's liking, though he couldn't quite see how the puzzle pieces all fit together. "I'll think I'll wait for the full briefing to hear the Prowler Corps' report. As much as I appreciate Admiral Lasky sending me a preview, it's light on the details, and I'm not sure I totally trust Imperial intelligence's analysis division."

"Only natural, considering the state of their AI technology. How those chatbots run any detailed analysis at all escapes me."

Since his temporary office aboard the Hope Springs Eternal lacked a holotank, Verdant spoke directly into Garcia's temporal lobe via his neural lace. He couldn't help but chuckle as a note of snobbishness entered her otherwise neutral voice. "How are you finding Eternal's architecture, by the way?"

"Passable, though cramped." Verdant's electrical impulses conveyed a sense of vague discomfort and confinement. "Captain Khalid was gracious enough to donate a few computer cores, but I am still sharing space with her AI. And, sir, if anyone tells you that induced instance suspension is easy, you have found yourself a liar."

"I apologize. Hopefully, we'll be able to get you some fancier digs soon. In the meantime, feel free to stretch your legs back there." Garcia pointed to the back of his skull, only for a phantom headshake to come through his neural lace.

"With utmost respect and consideration for our friendship, it'd be rather hard to do that without bumping into something."

The doorbell cut off Garcia's retort. "Come in," he said. The door opened and a wretched moan floated in, followed by a rather frazzled-looking Forward Unto Dawn. Slouched over and shielding her eyes from the LED lights with a hand, she trudged across the room and flopped bonelessly into a chair, unaware of the fact that her superior was right there watching her.

"Professional," Verdant said as the lights dimmed.

"Good evening, sir," Dawn said, one hand covering her eyes. "I'll be with you in a sec." Her chest rose as she took a deep breath, then fell as she forcefully expelled it. She swallowed hard, then the hand left her eyes to rub at her throat and then came up for a brief salute.

"Would you like my professional opinion, Ensign?" She nodded. "You look like shit."

Barely restraining an eyeroll, Dawn replied, "I did warn you that I'm no good with tether rides, sir. Just got a nausea patch from the medbay." She turned her head to expose her neck and show the sticky patch on it. "I was heading back to my quarters to let it kick in but I got hit with, like, massive vertigo. Lucky your office was on the way, eh?"

"As I recall saying, my door is always open." Looking down at his datapad to check for new emails, Garcia said, "I hope you feel better soon. Wouldn't want you to throw up over the scientists."

Dawn made a retching noise and said, "I just got my gag reflex under control, please don't talk about throwing up, sir. … actually, don't talk at all—!" She clamped a hand over her mouth and curled into fetal position. Several minutes passed like that as Dawn covered her face with her arms and breathed through her nose. Out of consideration, Garcia kept his peace and continued to read over the Sangheili reports. The quiet hum of Eternal's reactors and engines as they propelled the cruiser through slipspace formed a calming backdrop, a soft white noise that drowned out stray thoughts and helped him focus. Eventually, Dawn peeked out from under her arms and squinted at Garcia's desk. "What's that, sir? Our next op?"

"That's… need to know, Ensign," he said, turning the data pads away from her. "Nervous?"

"A little," she said. "Made it out by the skin of my teeth the last few times. There's only so many times I can cheat death before fate gives into temptation."

"Well, maybe this'll make you feel better. Admirals Lasky and the Personnel Department have signed off on transferring Everest and Autumn to the Auxiliary Forces. I'll be counting on your support to help them find their footing."

As Dawn made a pleasantly surprised noise, Verdant said, "I have already prepared the necessary documentation, sir. We'll be able to onboard them as soon as we hit realspace." She then added, "No need for thanks, by the way. I was bored."

"Thank you, Verdant," Garcia said, causing Dawn to laugh. Glaring at his subordinate, he said, "Why don't you go run those tactical simulations I requested?"

"Aye, sir." With a thought of a two-finger salute, Verdant's presence slipped from his mind.

At the same time, Dawn stretched like a cat, rolled her neck and shoulders, then hopped off her chair. "Thanks for the hospitality," she said, "but I'd better head out too, sir. I'm bunking with Lieutenant Armandez's people again and I promised to show off my creation abilities. Gotta say, nice to be around normal people who don't point and whisper."

"Don't let me keep you." As she turned to leave, something occurred to him. Best to get it out of the way in private. "By the way, Ensign, I wanted to ask you something." Dawn stopped and looked over her shoulder. "You are aware that the UEG is allied to the Imperium of Sanghelios, yes?"

The shipgirl folded her arms and tapped her foot. "Yes? I'm aware we're not shooting the split-lips anymore, sir."

"How would you feel about fighting alongside them?"

Dawn's foot stopped and she narrowed her eyes at Garcia. He met her gaze steadily, and after a few seconds she dropped the unasked questions crowding her tongue. "Wouldn't be the first time," she said. "I wouldn't be the happiest camper, but I could do it again."

Not ideal, yet better than many people Garcia didn't care to name. "And what of Amber, Everest, and Autumn? Do you think they'd have objections?"

The shipgirl sucked in a breath and grit her teeth. "I don't want to speak for others," she said, "but I can't imagine they'd be as openminded as me. Whatever's going on, sir, I'd strongly advise breaking the news one by one. In private."

"I'll take that under advisement. Thank you for your time, ensign." As the door slid shut, Garcia let his head drop into his hands and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. Another complication on top of everything else on his plate. He was already deep in the process of determining supply requirements, requesting personnel, developing tactics, and trying to figure out where to base the entire operation. Verdant was helping out, but much of the work still fell on his shoulders.

At least this particular bit of business could wait until after Everest and Autumn were officially part of the big blue Navy family. After all, nothing bad ever came of putting tasks off for the future, right?

There was a certain Type K1V star deep within the Orion Arm. Humanity knew it as United Nations Star Survey J155449.87-011152.3. The Covenant, and now the Imperium of Sanghelios, named it Uvor Res II-Kas. To the Abyssals, it was Star 88123.

Old when the Forerunners were young, unaware and uncaring of the labels applied to it by such fleeting things as civilizations, that certain Type K1V star traced its orbit around the galactic core as it had for billions of years and would for billions more. Orbiting the ancient ongoing fusion explosion was a rather mundane collection of planets, planetoids, and assorted space detritus. There were a few rocky orbs and gas giants, with a decently respectable asteroid belt separating the two categories, dividing the system into inner and outer. All in all, it was a bog standard Milky Way solar system, unremarkable except for a slightly higher than average abundance of sulfide compounds.

Two million kilometers above the second gas giant, the fifth planet in the system, Cruiser Type B04, Unit Registration N99081FK completed its two hundred and thirty fifth daily check of its systems. Power, propulsion, shielding, sensors, weapons, computers, all basic combat and astrogation functions returned nominal values. Satisfied at the state of its equipment, the alien warship returned to its patrol, allowing orbital mechanics to carry it along its lazy orbit, dipping in and out of the flowing radiation belts.

Such idleness did not come easy; the Abyssal would much rather have been at the front, hurling itself against the fleets and fortresses of the four-jaws. However, the princess had not spoken, and even though the soul fragment at its core that held the conceptual construct together chafed at its restraints, the alien construct stayed its hand. It would wait until it was time revisit suffering ten-fold upon the defilers and despoilers infesting this galaxy, flailing about blind and ignorant of their sins. With that happy thought, it went about its routine without the faintest idea of the long-range telescopes, radiation spectrometers, gravimetric sensors, and a battery of other instruments recording its activities.

Following coordinates provided by Sangheili intelligence, the Atbash-class prowlers UNSC The Great Artiste and UNSC Wiretap transitioned to realspace in the local Kuiper belt after jumping from interstellar space. They emerged about 7 astronomical units out from the outermost gas giant's orbit on opposite sides of the system. Advanced slipspace drives, incorporating technologies pioneered and proven aboard Infinity, facilitated smooth transitions within half a second of each other and with target coordinate deviations of less than ten meters..

At that distance, the cold hand of the inverse square law diluted their already baffled and shielded emissions into practically nothingness, drowned out by interstellar radiation. Still, as a precaution, both ships immediately prepared to purge databanks and launch slipspace probes to inform HIGHCOM of their destruction. Their crews waited with bated breath for what seemed like an eternity before it was determined, after a standard twelve-hour period during which their interiors grew muggy from unreleased heat, that the probability of an Abyssal response was negligible. Breathing sighs of relief, both fired their main propulsion and accelerated onto vectors carefully planned to mask their exhaust radiation. The vectors first took them behind large asteroids to vent heat, then slowly deeper in-system, spiraling round and round the star.

Wiretap was specially equipped to intercept even the faintest enemy transmissions leakage. She took to her task with aplomb, dropping probes with tightbeam transmitters in her wake to help triangulation and extending hyper-sensitive receivers to eavesdrop. A battery of decryption and translation AIs set about the tidbits that she garnered, learning all they could about enemy logistics, movements, readiness, and anything else that one Abyssal might wish to tell another. The Great Artiste possessed only a standard COMINT suite, but what she lacked in eavesdropping capability she more than made up with her advanced imaging equipment. She also dropped probes, these equipped with all manner of telescopes and spectrometers, and set about documenting Abyssal space stations, capital ships, formations, and all other manner of orbital infrastructure and their positions. Initial set up complete, both Prowlers settled in for the long haul.

Teams of analysts on both Prowlers, accompanied by some Sangheili familiar with Abyssal operations in the region, pored over the data as it came in, fueled as much by coffee as by the excitement of finally getting quality data on Abyssal rear areas. They quickly identified numerous space stations, shipyards, defense platforms, and communications nodes, which along with an attendant host of Abyssal ships clearly denoted this system as a significant staging point. The Imperium's strategists were correct; trashing this star system and others like it would greatly hamper enemy operations, buying vital time and breathing room for the Sangheili forces. They sent this information to HIGHCOM via Forerunner quantum entanglement datalink, and would continue to do so until the Navy went ahead with the attack or their supplies ran out, whichever came first.

Unbeknownst to them as they worked, the Space Station Princess cast a sidelong gaze at the minute conceptual disturbances on the edges of the system. Just as Cruiser N99081FK was unaware of the humans and Sangheili watching it, the two enemy vessels were unaware that, despite their inaction, the Abyssals knew that something skulked about at the outskirts of the system. They did a good job at masking their presence; most of the Princess' comrades, even the more perceptive ones, wouldn't have noticed a thing. However, monitoring and controlling the space around it was the Princess' purpose, at the cost of mobility and combat abilities. Though all their stealth technology went quite some way towards decreasing their conceptual weight, the enemy had not mastered the art of convincing the universe itself they did not exist at a fundamental level. Their understanding of the nature of reality was too incomplete for that.

Just as well. Though the assets at its disposal could have easily crushed the two ships, the Princess held them back. New intelligence conclusively showing the presence of potent conceptual constructs allied to the enemy was an unexpected development and one that needed to be corrected at any cost. However, at any cost did not mean without a plan. Frigate Princess and Cruiser Princess, those reckless fools, abandoning the master plan of attrition and going off half-cocked, throwing themselves willy-nilly into enemy strongholds without so much as a coordinated offensive behind them... well, Frigate Princess moreso. Cruiser Princess merely used the situation as an excuse to take a crack at the human homeworld and died for her troubles.

For her part, Space Station Princess was simply executing the orders of higher command. Surprise attacks to provoke reckless counterattacks by the enemy, deliberately leaving a trail for enemy intelligence to follow, and sacrificing the infrastructure of a few star systems was a small price to pay in order to deny the enemy powerful combat assets and, more importantly, knowledge of neural physics and conceptual manipulation. And if the enemy was overconfident in its understanding of the situation, so much the better. And so it let the enemy spy ships skulk and spy and plan their attack, drawing them ever deeper into the jaws of the trap.