The Rabbit and the Wolfe

Here we go with another chapter! Not really much in the way of an author note this time, just that I am sorry this took me so long to get out. Please favorite, follow, and leave a review! Without further ado, enjoy the newest installment in the Rabbit and the Wolfe!

06: Charlie Hotel

December 3, 2561

Permefreis Surface

Classified ONI Facility, Unidentified Ice Shelf

0830 hours

Dr. Catherine Halsey, the creator of the SPARTAN-II program and the closest thing any of the surviving II's might consider a mother figure. At the ripe age of 69, she was still a force to be reckoned with, both inside and outside of ONI. She inspired as much respect as she did hate. She had been called many things, not all of them pleasant. But she had endured their remarks, because, after all, where would humanity be without her 'dubious' moral practices and her 'needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few' philosophy. Her Spartans towered over her, but they followed her directions like they would any other orders, unless they directly conflicted with a superior officer's. She had known them almost their entire lives and while she did not consider herself a parent, per se, she could say with complete confidence that no one alive knew her Spartans better than she did.

"John. Fred. Linda. Kelly." She greeted, giving each of them a quick once-over. She knew they could take care of themselves, but she wanted to be sure. The four soldiers twitched uncomfortably at their names being presented in the open, even if there was no one else around. Glad to see something can still get under their skin. She noted a fifth Spartan standing beside Kelly, her purple armor clashing horribly with the white, grey, and the myriad of blues that surrounded them, but ignored her. She resumed typing away at the display before her, making a note to keep any further details about her Spartans close to the chest.

"Sorry Doctor. Fred's driving has always been terrible." Linda spoke from the back of the room. That caught her by surprise. They had never been this candid with each other when anyone but her or the other Spartans had been in the room. Even more confusing was that the new Spartan seemed completely unfazed by the banter around her. As if it was a daily occurrence. Before, she was mildly curious, if that. Now? She was interested. Fred flashed her an obscene gesture to which she returned in equal measure.

"Ma'am," Chief interjected, most likely agitated from being idle. "What's your status?" Her mouth twitched downward for a split second before reverting to a focused half-smile. Another drop of guilt in the bucket. And the bucket was harder to carry with each passing day.

"How were you able to track my location?"

"The Infinity picked up a weak UNSC transmission on the E-band."

"I am guessing you couldn't get a lock on the location because of the weather and geographical features?" She tapped a few more keys while she waited for a response.

"No ma'am. We had to triangulate your location." Halsey let out a short sigh.

"The extreme temperatures disabled the craft I used to get here." She continued before John could issue any orders. "Don't bother salvaging it. I scuttled it days ago." John rested his hand back on his rifle as the others listened intently. "ONI is as incompetent as ever. They make a mess and send someone else to clean it up." Typical. The spooks that originally wiped the data did such an atrocious job, she was surprised they weren't charged with war crimes. And as usual, they pulled her from important work, without telling her a damned thing, and wasting her time. They could have sent one of their spooks or, hell, even an intern! But no! they had to send her to do what equated to manual labor! She hit the keys with more force than necessary. Though it wasn't actually speeding up the process, it was cathartic. An alert flashed on her display, one she quickly dismissed. She didn't need the interruptions. The proximity alarm had been triggered. While it was mostly something of little consequence, she knew her Spartans hated surprises.

"John." She called without removing her eyes from the display. "The proximity alarm has been tripped."

"Is there location with a good vantage point?"

"Out that door." She pointed to a door in the opposite corner nestled between multiple computer systems. "Second right. It's an upward slope until you reach the door at the end. Opens up to a secluded cave overlooking the pass below." John nodded understandingly.

"Exfil options?" Fred questioned.

"Only two: Through the motor pool or into the tunnels." Fred cast a worried glance towards the others, not enjoying either option.

"Then we move now." John ordered. The quicker they got moving, the easier it would be to repair this fraying cord of a mission.

"No, John. I am not leaving here until I finish my work." Halsey commanded, leaving no room for argument. For a second it looked like the he was going to defy her orders, but in the end, he relented. They still had some time to prepare. It was up to him to make the most of it.

"Fred, Linda, double check our transportation. See if there is a way to move them to the motor pool. Then see if you can find a vacuum suit for the Doctor. Prioritize air supply and protection." With a nod from each, they jogged back the way they came. "Sandra, get me eyes on whatever tripped the proximity alarms." Her light winked green once in affirmation as she dashed towards the door Dr. Halsey had pointed out. It was eerily silent so far into the facility, where the howling winds and torrential blizzards could not penetrate. Kelly shifted from foot to foot, impatient. While she enjoyed the quiet, especially when she shared it with a particularly cheeky blonde, the room felt empty, even with machines that hummed like cicadas in the background. Like there was a topic Dr. Halsey was keen to ask, and the scout had a good idea as to what it was

"Didn't figure you the babysitting type, Kelly." There it is, her mind shouted sardonically.

"I'm not." She responded evenly, keeping her tongue on a tight leash.

"Then who is she? I'm curious." With Halsey, it was never just idle curiosity or pure mental indulgence, at least, not anymore. There was always a reason behind the question, like one of Chief Mendez's 'exercises', it always came with a surprise. She had always been a woman that was quick to the point, determining the most important facts then concluding her business. This seemingly immense shift in her personality set the scout on edge.

What is she after? She pondered, trying to determine the best way to answer the question without giving any of their 'history' away. Who knows what Dr. Halsey would think of that. "Spartan Wolfe is an excellent asset to this team." There. Professional, while still showing her pup in a positive light.

Halsey glanced away from her display, scrutinizing 087 with a careful eye. "Is that so? Interesting." Her cryptic remark doing little to ease the confusion building within the Spartan's augmented bones. Kelly wished to continue this conversation by this was neither the time nor place to do so. Having no orders to act on, she nestled into a corner of the room, keeping one eye on her motion tracker. Oathsworn was cradled within her arms as the TEAMCOM crackled to life.

"Chief?" The concern in Sandra's voice instantly put the scout on edge, erasing her calm demeanor from the moment before. His status light flashed once, signaling that he was listening. "Did the Infinity send any other teams?"

"No." Chief's response was almost blotted out by the sound of a bolt being cycled.

"Then we have a problem."

"Explain."

"Two groups encroaching on our position, one Covenant, the other… Human. They haven't spotted me yet, but I see light armor moving with the column. They don't look to be slowing either. Maybe they traced the signal, same as us?" For the Covenant, that would make sense. As for the human element…that was more troubling. As far as they knew, there were no other UNSC vessels in-system, so a column with light armored support could mean the Infinity was in trouble. It might be a reason as to why they could not contact the flagship. But conjecture would get them nowhere. John had to act, they needed a plan of action.

"Fred, Linda, status?"

"Suit secured. Warthogs moved to the motor pool, refueled and ready to deploy." Fred declared over the channel.

"Tried to hail Diamond-3. Walls are too heavily shielded to get a signal through." Linda added. Well that complicated their mission. But Spartans specialized in complicated missions.

"Blue 2 and 3, return to my position." Green lights acknowledged his order as he turned to Halsey. "The enemy is approaching. How much longer?"

"Five minutes to wipe the data and set a self-destruct countdown." John had worked with tighter timetables in the past. John didn't want the enemy to know someone was here, but it was a moot point. They would be on top of them shortly and would just have to work that much harder to fight their way through. John took a calming breath. Time to mix things up a little.

"Sandra, engage once they are in range. Covenant only, prioritize at will. Engage the other column only if fired upon." He turned to Kelly, who stood there, almost twitching in anticipation. "Motor pool. You're driving." She saluted crisply, sprinting down the corridor Fred and Linda had taken less than an hour before. This ball of ice just got a hell of a lot hotter.


Lasky stared out of the large windows of the bridge and to the stars beyond, a bored expression hanging on his face like moss on a stone. Commander Palmer stood beside him, her deep brown eyes shining with much more passion than this boring task ever warranted. But he had to hand it to the Spartan: she is an amazing Commander and an even better friend. He just wished she wouldn't take something as boring as frigate reactor analysis so seriously. It was about as entertaining as watching paint dry and took even longer to complete. He would have gladly taken a nap if the Commander would stop elbowing him in the side.

"Roland, what's the status on Blue Team?" He asked, trying to distract himself from the analysis, which had slowed to a crawl. The Commander shot him a glare for trying to distract himself from an important task, but just shrugged and continued to stare out into the starlit void.

"Unknown. The storms and topographical features are preventing any stable communications. We likely won't hear from them again until they break atmosphere." The AI responded amicably. "Sir, they have completed their analysis and are reporting no discernible problems. They are requesting your permission to bring the reactor to full power, just to be safe."

"Permission granted." Lasky commanded, eager to get this over with. He tapped his foot impatiently as he watched the energy readouts as the reactor slowly climbed to sufficient power. Ever since Imber, the URF cell leader had been disturbingly quiet. Beyond scattered attacks around the system, there had been no major acts of aggression. They were obviously waiting. But for what? There were too many targets and opportunities. All they had to go on was the fact they were targeting the UNSC, Spartans in particular. Without more intel, it was hopeless. All they could do was wait for another event. The mere fact they had to wait for the enemy to strike just to gather more information sent chills down his spine. So many lives would be wasted. He released a regretful sigh, one that earned him another glare from Palmer.

"Sir!" A nearby technician cried from his terminal, clearly trying not to panic. "I'm detecting a massive radiation spike coming from inside the ship!"

"What?!" Palmer snapped, her confident expression faltering almost instantly.

"Then shut the engines down!" His command was heard by entire bridge as the technician swiped some precipitation from his brow, typing in commands so fast his fingers were but a tan blur on the display. Shouts and curses rang out across the bridge as the officers worked frantically with the technicians aboard the vessel to bring the situation under control. Lasky watched the readings continue to climb, helplessness stirring deep in his gut. The men and women of the Infinity looked on, horrified, as they watched 75 souls extinguished in a second.

A pinprick, white as the heavens above, heralded the end for the poor souls trapped on the bedeviled frigate. At the center was a series of reactions, changing and modifying different elements to form a new substance, while giving off heat as a byproduct. But these were not due to the normal functions of the drive, nor were they an unstable nuclear reaction as the engines went critical. No, this was not natural, or even mechanical. This instant, this white messenger of death was so much worse: it was intentional. A cut-down SHIVA nuclear missile, stolen from a UNSC supply depot. Perfected over the centuries, the thermonuclear weapon had a brutal and vindictive history which was only bolstered by the Human-Covenant War. The massive blast tore through the super-hard casing in a nanosecond, the sheer amount of heat and fire tearing through the Titanium-A plating like a vicious predator. It vaporized everything in its path, including the poor technicians, whose deaths were mercifully painless. The two nuclear reactions met in an incredibly violent manner as the magnetic containment fields that protected the craft's fusion drive were rendered useless, boosting the yield almost seven-fold.

The entire flagship rolled and shuddered as the shockwave slammed into bow of the ship, activating its shielding. The golden luminescent energy radiated with a fervent intensity as nuclear fire washed over its frame, overloading sensitive sensor equipment and raising the internal temperature of the ship by a few degrees. Inside, technicians, scientists, and soldiers alike were thrown from their beds and work, bouncing around their titanium home like poorly inflated basketballs. A few unfortunate souls were crushed by 60 tons of Scorpion tank that had been knocked loose from its housing, spraying its olive undercarriage in a gory red collage. Suddenly, the lights died, as the EMP lanced through the weakened shields, throwing the entire vessel into darkness that matched the blackness of space around them. Systems were thrown into emergency shutdown one after the other to preserve their integrity, like refugees taking shelter from a building storm.

Sparks from the damaged monitors threw a soft orange glow like the candles of centuries long past. Shadows pulsed in time with the sporadic showers, dancing to the beat of the dark. Lasky pushed himself off the floor as his vision began to clear.

"Everyone alright?" He asked, wiping away the liquid that trickled down his forehead. He didn't need a medic to tell him that he was injured. His throbbing skull told him all that he needed to know. "Roland, what hell happened?" There was no response from the AI.

"Delmire is dead. The rest have only minor injuries." Palmer reported dutifully.

"Roland?" Lasky questioned the Commander. He couldn't see her face, or anything beyond his hands without the glow from the showers of sparks, but his gut was telling him he wouldn't like the answer.

"No response. His systems may still be rebooting or the blast could have damaged his core." AI's had multiple redundancies to prevent this kind of blackout. But detailed look at the AI's core could wait till later. Right now, he to ensure the safety of his crew.

"Damage report!" He called out.

"Coms are down, we're deaf!" One officer responded.

"Sensors are either scrambled or rebooting. It will take a few hours for them to come back online."

"Engines are on lockdown until the heat and radiation levels return to normal. I have no idea about lights."

"MAC's are cycling back up. We still have control of most of the missiles though, Captain." The weapons officer added. Great. For the time being we are deaf, blind, defenseless and dead in the water. Not to mention…where is the emergency lighting?

"Where are the emergency lights?" Palmer asked as she pulled a fellow crew member to her feet, voicing his thoughts. "They should have come on by now." Sure enough, the red glow of the emergency lights never sprang to life as they normally would. They were floundering around in the dark like babies learning to walk, bumping into one another and shouting curses as they tripped over objects hidden in the shadows. A resounding bang from the other end of the corridor filtered through the bridge doors, halting the bridge crew in their tracks. They stood there in confused silence as the last echoes of the sound faded into the silence that hung around them. Lasky felt something cool and heavy being pushed into his hand. 'Just in case' the Commander's eyes spoke, each word falling as heavily upon his mind as the Magnum felt in his grip. The bark of a battle rifle broke the stillness that had gripped the bridge for the past few minutes. Followed by another. Then a third. At first, Lasky thought it might have been the Covenant. Or pirates. But this attack was too sudden, too coordinated.

"Tom?" He was pulled from his thoughts by Sarah's stern voice. They needed to figure out what was going on, and holing up on the bridge wasn't going to help.

"Listen up," He paused a moment as another shower of sparks threw a muted orange glow onto all of the faces looking to him. "Someone or something is attacking this ship. Our home. This cannot stand. Even if we were to stay here and wait till power is restored, who knows what kind of damage they could do." He didn't even know who "they" were, or if there was even more than one, but right now he did not care in the slightest. His primary duty was to ensure the safety of his crew. As he spoke, Palmer marched over to a nearby weapons locker, her armor brushing aside the sharp metal scraps like shavings in the wind. Hitting the release, she outfitted herself with an AR and a few spare magazines. Looking to his XO, he continued. "Tekes, the bridge is yours. If anyone comes knocking that isn't me or the Commander, don't open it up. Shepards, Wilkes, Yuma, you're coming too." The three officers nodded and slowly made their way to the nearby locker, which glowed like a beacon of hope in the shattered remains around them. The scouting party made their way to the door, Palmer naturally taking point due to her larger frame and largely bullet-resistant armor. The door slowly opened to reveal a corridor just a black as the room they had come from. Activating their flashlights, they slowly crept into the hall, the bright beams slicing through the dark like swords. The doors shut behind them with a quiet hiss and locked with a solid thunk. They were on their own. Now, time to figure out what the hell happened. With a whisper, their party moved further away from the safety of the bridge.

UNSC Infinity, S-deck

In orbit above Permefreis

Spartan Quarters

0900 hours

"Where the hell is Starr?!" Nakamura yelled over the pounding booms of her MD6. One of the rounds tore through a soldier's neck, splitting it open like a Sangheili's jaw, throwing bits of throaty tissue onto the armor of those that stood beside him. Undeterred, his warm body was trampled and left to rot in the titanium grave as the others continued to kill anything that moved. They moved quickly in the dark, slaying indiscriminately, the only sign of their presence were the muzzle flashes and the haunting afterimage it produced. A terrifying image of faceless, soulless hunters that resembled more machine than any living creature. Or at least one who had any sense of moral standing. Tiffany ducked back into the room and hit the door release hard enough to crack the display, sealing the occupants inside. Moments later the door was pounded by the sustained fire of an assault rifle. She could hear the rat-tat-tat-tat each round made as it left the chamber, almost like some of the weapons shown on old vids her parents always watched. It was almost comical. A laugh bubbled in the back of her throat, but she choked it down. Now was not the time for a trip down memory lane.

Bretts, for his part, had a much more difficult task: to calm a sobbing Amber. Her tears stained his shirt, turning the gray material almost black, but he did not care. His only concern the tiny child he held in his arms. At least she is quiet. His mind consoled. The sentiment was small, but at least his hearing was spared. The sporadic fire outside the room quadrupled in intensity as the killers had obviously found a more pressing target to engage, their presence temporarily forgotten.

"I'm scared. I want mommy and mother." Amber cried, almost pleaded, softly. Patrick just rubbed her back and offered hollow reassurances, his guilt rising steadily like a tidal wave with each false promise he uttered.

"Your parents aren't here, kid." Tiffany said unhelpfully from across the room. Bretts didn't say anything, but she knew he was glaring at her as new tears poured from misty golden orbs. He was always the hopeful and cheery one. Sometimes, he needed a kick from reality to get him back in line. She shrugged off his glare like water off a duck's back, returning her attention to the more hazardous possibility. She could reconcile with him later. Three dull thumps shook the room, knocking a few pieces of the fabricated furniture to the floor with a clatter.

A confident voice, muffled by the door, but still recognizable reached her ears. "Spartan Nakamura, the coast is clear. Open the door." By the command of her fireteam leader she opened the door to the room. Or tried to. In her rush to close the door, she had damaged the controls, preventing it from returning to its former position. Dimly, she heard Bretts move behind her, but paid them little mind.

"Door controls are busted, sir. Were locked in," It was a few moments before he responded.

"Rodger that, Spartan. Help me open this door." With some effort, the two Spartans were able to pry the protesting metal open far enough for him to allow his armored frame to fit through. Standing in the darkness with only his helmet lights illuminating their quarters, she brought him up to speed. The lights followed the movement of his head as he nodded in understanding. They needed a plan. He handed her a shotgun he had procured from a nearby weapons rack. The specialist practically tore it from his grasp, her face split with a giddy smile like a kid on Christmas Day. A six-foot child. With a major chip on their shoulder. Who now held an 8-gauge toy that could put a softball sized hole through an Elite's chest, armor or no. Her smile shifted into something much more wicked as she swiped offered ammo and grenades.

"The entire ship is in disarray. We need to get to the armory, get your armor. Oasis needs to make a stand." His commander's words rang true. There would have been some word from Captain Lasky or Roland by now. The silence was troubling. Like the ocean swells inside a storm, the contents of his stomach swirled around, unsettled at the events unfolding around him. A soft whimper drew their attention to the body clinging to his chest, tremors shaking her grey skin at every distant noise.

"I agree, sir. Wholeheartedly. But we can't leave her here." He let the rest of his sentence go unfinished as Amber was frightened enough as it was. He was silent as he gazed down upon the pair, trying to think of a response. With a defeated sigh, he crouched down, giving a few quick pats to reassure the shivering Amber.

"We can't take her with us either." Bretts agreed. She would slow them down, not to mention the extra effort all three Spartans would have to put forth to protect her. Effort that could better be used in other ways. Like breaking bones and pulling triggers. It was a risk they just couldn't afford to take. Bretts made up his mind.

"Think you can cover us for a few minutes?" Stephen scoffed, as if saying 'I have been'. Retrieving his battle rifle from the floor, he trotted over to the door. "Think you could toss me her bag?" He asked, only to be nearly knocked to the ground as a large duffel bag bounced off his back. Grunting under his breath, Patrick yanked open the bag and began rummaging through its contents, throwing them haphazardly to the floor. Peeking one curious gold eye out from her warm cradle, her jaws split open in horror. Her things littered the floor like paper going through an industrial shredder. What kind of person could do such a thing?! To think that she had trusted him!

"You…you…MEANIE!" She raged, pounding her little fists on his massive chest. Bretts frowned, trying to restrain the meddlesome ball of energy, who was trying to beat him to death (and putting on an adorable show), and his chortling teammate in the hall. Kelly and Sandra would undoubtedly kill him for this little stunt, but at least they would understand why he did it before he met a sudden and painful end. His roaming fingers met a cool fabric with a silk-like texture and pulled it from the bag. Bingo. Amber stopped her tantrum suddenly, as if someone had hit the pause button on life. Her head shot up, immediately on high alert, like a gazelle being hunted by a lion. And though it was too dark for her to really see, she could sense the beast's menacing presence. She growled menacingly, mandibles taunt, her pearly white teeth glinting like knives in a dark alley. Her little arms tightened reflexively around his neck, her instinct to protect pulsing in every neuron as they raced throughout her nervous system. Her golden eyes seemed to glow in the dark, their yellow color seemed to burn away the darkness around her as they challenged the creature before her. Its mass, as black as the void itself, stared back, unmoving and limp. It showed no signs of life, not a trace of a pulse. But Amber would not be fooled. She knew it lay in wait, dormant, but ready to strike the instant she let her guard down.

Bretts looked between the suit and Amber, the confusion that lined the creases on his face rapidly morphing into frustrating realization. Right, the suit. Damn it. He stifled a groan, resisting the urge to bang his head against the floor in an attempt to rectify the obvious lack of brain cells within. In the three years Sandra had been gone, she and Kelly had come up with a backup plan to ensure their child's safety in case she ever found herself back on space-faring vessel with no way for her parents to reach her. Hence, the vacuum suit. Custom made to adhere to her body structure, it cost the blonde a pretty penny to get her hands on. But no price was too high for her daughter. The only problem? Amber despised it. As if somehow the suit had personally affronted her family on some level neither of her parents could comprehend. Sandra nearly lost a finger the first time she struggled to get her little angel in it. That's why it was deemed a final resort; A last-ditch effort if things went sideways.

"Amber." He began warningly, trying to draw her attention away from the suit. No one had a clue why its mere presence set her so on edge.

"No." Her jovial tone she usually carried had been flattened by the sheer harshness in which she now spoke, like sharpened concrete. His fingers twitched from memory. Her voice sounded different. Older. Would she sound like this when she's older? Not helpful. Focus.

"It's the only option." She shook her head vehemently, displaying her disagreement plainly. He was rolling over a response in his head when Tiffany stepped into the conversation in the loudest way possible. The resounding booms of the 8-gauge shells as they tore through another scouting party startled the stubborn child. She clung tightly to his neck as she shivered with fear. The specialist's cry to 'hurry the fuck up!' tilled the field of tears that he thought had been barren and abandoned. He wiped the tears away with his thumbs and patted her head gently. "Hey." She looked up with misty golden eyes. A surge of protectiveness washed over him like tidal wave. Someone threatened to hurt, no, kill this little child. All because she was on this ship. They are going to pay. He curled his fist in anger, almost to the point where his knuckles turned white. "Your parents would want you to be safe. They entrusted me to do just that. Please?" She stared at the suit for what seemed like hours, her features tight and hostile.

With a nod, the chatty Spartan gave a sigh of relief. This battle, at least, was over. Quickly, he helped strip her of most of her clothing, to allow the suit to be fitted properly. His teammates' weapons were a reminder that his time was growing short, marching to the beat of their lead drums that thundered away just outside the door. Amber mewed as she clawed at her suit uncomfortably. Her mother was right, she really did hate it. Bretts placed the helmet into her trembling hands. "Stay in the maintenance causeways. They should keep you safe." Her golden eyes still shone brightly in the blackness around them, hardly diminished by the tears that stained her face only a few short minutes before. "Only come out for me or your parents. No one else. Is that clear?" Her eyes acted as runway lights for the resolute nod she gave the Spartan. He gave her one in return, mostly to comfort himself, and gently pushed her into the small duct that fed into one of the main causeways. With a final statement to 'stay safe, munchkin', he was gone. A third weapon joined the firefight behind her, but it was lost in the sea of other lead-bearing waves, each violently crashing against each other, struggling for power and life.

The maintenance ducts acted as capillaries for the Infinity, helping distribute oxygen and carry electrical signals throughout the entirety of the ship. Though the causeways were much larger, easily managing to fit a Mantis with room to spare, the cramped crawlspaces that fed into them were often left untended due to the very nature of their size. On occasion, an Engineer would float into one of the larger ones, cleaning and repairing as it went along, pulsing in time with the silent huff of its air sacs that kept it aloft. Not today. Today, the Huragok were deafeningly absent, leaving the young Amber alone with the freezing, unsympathetic titanium walls. The sounds of violence reverberated through her hiding spot, as if the ship was choking on the chaos and blood that languished within itself.

"Stop it." She whispered, desperately pleading for the violence to end. She ground her palms against her ears in an effort to stop the cries of the dying. But they were like a toxin: they had entered into the bloodstream of the Infinity, eagerly spreading wherever they pleased. "Stop it! Stop it! Why can't we all be friends?" She screamed, hoping someone would hear. The only response was more death, as if the Grim Reaper was mocking her for her outlook on life. Swallowing the bile in her mouth, she took a deep breath and slipped the helmet on, enshrouding her in a sliver of the dark void. Silence. The tortured screams, the gunfire, the ceaseless noise of war, all extinguished by the helmet that protected her little head. Relief flooded her, allowing her to relax her muscles that had been pulled taunt by fear. Slowly, she began to crawl further into the tunnel, each foot moving her farther from danger. She banged her head a few times when she had to change direction in the cramped quarters, grumbling unapologetically at the engineers who designed these ducts, but otherwise made her trip in silence. Alone, her thoughts drifted to her parents. I miss mommy's smile. It's so pretty, just like mother. But that man told me to be safe. Mommy trusts him, so I do too. She was still scared; her limbs trembled occasionally, but she soldiered on. She could even hear her mother's voice now: "Be brave, my little angel. Be brave for your mommy and I. Amber took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes to focus on the image of her parents. They were doing their best so it was only fair she tried just as hard. Nodding to herself, she reached up to the ledge above and pulled herself up with a grunt. Spartan Bretts had told her not to come out for anyone besides her parents or himself. So, until then, she would become the hide-and-seek champion of the Infinity.

Permefreis Surface

Unidentified Ice Shelf

0930 hours

Sandra felt her teeth chatter like chipmunks in spite of the Warthog's massive tires and heavy suspension. The puff of flame from the Covenant scout craft was dwarfed by the sheer concussive force of the ONI facility going up in flames. Geysers of fire shot nearly a hundred feet in the air, painting the sky with smoke and debris, interrupting the quiet snowfall that began that morning. The intense heat vaporized the ice around it, creating a dense mist that obscured a glimpse of anything caught within. Fred pushed his foot to the floor, throwing the beast into a fishtail to avoid another burst of plasma fire. Linda adjusted her footing and opened up with the chaingun, armor-piercing rounds ripping the Ghost, and the driver within, to shreds. The pilot's screams went unheard as Chief let loose his own storm of lead. The two Spartans cut into the convoy with ruthless efficiency, applying short, controlled bursts to the weakest parts of the vehicles, spraying the pristine ice shelf purple with gore. Their destination still lay almost half a kilometer away, a seemingly impossible distance when you were busy dodging boiling plasma.

"Blue Team, do you copy?" Sandra's com clicked to life as their pilot's frustrated voice rang over the channel. "Chief do you read?!" Sandra's battle rifle continued to harass their pursuers before the heavy chainguns reduced their frames to a mangled, melted mess.

"This is Spartan Wolfe. We read you Diamond-3. What's your status?"

"I'd be a lot better if these damn Hornets would get off my ass!" The olive-green transport blasted out from behind a spire of ice with a roar, as four smaller green craft tried to paint Erickson in a gold-speckled, lead monsoon. Their skilled pilot rolled into a dive, hoping to shake his trigger-happy pursuers. The attack VTOL's dipped their thrusters and followed him down, their chambers open all the while.

"Chief, I can pop those Covies behind you if you can knock these annoying gnats off my tail!" The Pelican flared its thrusters at the last second, leveling out just a few meters above the ice. The armor-piercing rounds didn't stop coming. "Please hurry up. Diamond-4 is in the bottom of a ravine." That limited their choices for getting off this hellish ball of ice. And Sandra was not keen on staying here.

"Switch targets." The two veterans fired a few more bursts as an extra incentive for the alien soldiers to keep their heads down, then swung the heavy turrets 180° and began to pound the UNSC aircraft. Linda felt the sweat run down her back as the first wave of plasma washed over her shields. Her nerves wailed like sirens, screaming for her to face her enemy, but she kept her sights on the rapidly approaching Hornets. The lead craft exploded almost instantly as dozens of rounds punched through its armor, forcing the others to scatter. Taking the opportunity, Erickson blazed through the convoy of Covenant vehicles, reducing their pristine, sleek shapes to charred husks of mangled metal and broken bodies. Streams of golden fire tracked the traitorous aircraft like a hawk would dive for its prey, sinking its lead claws into the light armor, perforating it like tissue paper. Blood painted the cockpit red as the craft spun out of control, smashing into the ice without mercy.

The other two tried to bring down the Pelican while dodging the groundfire from the Spartans. In the end, it just proved too much. As skilled as they were, Erickson was leaps and bounds ahead of them, performing maneuvers that Linda didn't even think were possible with a bird that big. Linda was impressed. That didn't come often. Like a cat that had finished playing with its catch, the remaining pilots were quickly snuffed out, drowning in their own blood. He landed a short distance away, his engines stirring up the settled snow, whipping the snowflakes about like rain in a hurricane.

"Any contact with the Infinity?" Chief asked as the gangplank closed behind him. He was the last one to board. The warthogs were abandoned, left to freeze in the extreme cold of the planet's nocturnal cycle.

"Not a word, Chief. I could barely get through to you. Damn snowstorms." Their pilot grumbled from his seat. "We should have better luck when we break atmosphere." Chief elected to remain silent, simply claiming a seat near the cockpit door. A dull roar filtered into the cabin, letting the soldiers know they had taken to the sky once more. Linda escorted Halsey to a spare seat before finding one for herself, examining her sniper with a critical eye. Sandra chuckled and rolled her eyes behind her visor. Of course, that would be the first thing the redhead would do. Linda gestured rudely, clearly annoyed. Kelly took her own spot next to her lover, casting nervous glances between Halsey and her blonde beauty. While the scout was unable to see the doctor's face, the subtle movements of her head eluded to the fact that she was watching her Spartans carefully; scrutinizing them.

Catherine couldn't place it, but her Spartans seemed…different. They had always had their quirks, but in the short time they had to reconnect, she had started to notice something was off. This shift in behavior peaked her curiosity. Her highly intelligent, scientific mind began to break them down, trying to pinpoint their oddities. Fred seems largely unchanged. Strong-willed, confident…and still taking orders from John. She allowed herself a small smile as she remembered that the two of them competing against each other for the ability to lead the team. Her gaze shifted over to John. He had always been the strong, silent type, preferring actions over words. A sentiment that was shared by Cortana. For more than once, that day, she was glad for the polarized faceplates that her Spartan's wore. All the damage she had done, the cruelties she justified. No more. No longer will I sacrifice few to save the many. I have ruined far too many lives with that mantra. She could see the weight that all her Spartan's carried, how it clawed and ripped at their humanity, pulling them deeper into the depths she feared they would never return from. Sure, they had won the war. But at what cost? What price do my Spartans have to pay to afford themselves some semblance of peace? She gently shook her head to clear the troubling questions within. There would be time to examine their overlying psychological state at a later time.

Linda had always had a sharp eye. That was what made her Blue Team's sniper since their inception. Looking at her now though, the Spartan seemed troubled. Her movements, which had always been graceful and filled with purpose, were clunky and jittery. Something was on the redhead's mind and it was slowly eating at her, like a lion grazing on a festering carcass. Linda was never one to share her problems. The best course was to let her solve them on her own. Clearly, this new 'addition' didn't realize that. Or if she did, she was purposefully ignoring them, which was worse. There was a time where one of the other trainees wouldn't stop teasing her about her red hair. He ended up with four broken ribs, a bruised collarbone, and two black eyes. Linda was not one to cross. Kelly though…she seems…happy. She has always had difficulties in squandering her emotions. Halsey watched as Sandra and Kelly exchanged split-second hand gestures and subtle movements. Odd. They seem…close. Very close. Vowing to have another conversation with Kelly at a later time, she shifted all of her attention onto the fifth member of Blue Team: Sandra. The purple color clashed horribly with the drab olive that surrounded them and stood out like a sore thumb among her teammates. It simply drew too much attention. With such disregard for her fellow Spartans, Halsey took an immediate dislike to the woman.

In her eyes, Sandra was not fit to serve with her Spartans. To be fair, she believed no one was. They were unique, superior, and the cornerstone of Humanity's victory in the Human-Covenant War. This 'SPARTAN-IV' was just an imitation, a cheap knockoff of the program she had slaved over for years to create the best soldiers Humanity had to offer. The mere presence of this woman irritated her. She had no idea how this 'Spartan' was able to get so intertwined with Blue Team, but she was going to have a word with the captain of whatever ship John came in on. This could not stand. Why do you have a capsule of crushed ice crystals?!

"Chief, you're gonna want to see this." Erickson's panic-stricken voice crackled over the com, splitting the silence like a firecracker. He stood up, swiftly entering the cockpit of the bird. The other Spartans exchanged worried glances. This was not normal procedure. This means there was a problem, and they didn't appreciate surprises. Shortly thereafter, the dull roar of the engines faded to a muted whine, quickly followed by the loss of all power. The Master Chief moved back to the crew cabin, his helmet lights throwing jagged shadows upon the metal frame.

"The Infinity has been attacked." Kelly and Sandra stiffened with fear. One thought swam furiously inside their heads, refusing to be ignored: Amber. Throwing a quick glance around the cabin to make sure no one was looking, Kelly gave her love's hand a reassuring squeeze, allowing the small smile to play at her lips when it was returned. "Gear up. Diamond-3 is going to lay low until coms are safe. We have no intel on the enemy. Be prepared for anything." They gathered what few munitions still lingered in the bird. As they prepared to disembark, Halsey loudly cleared her throat.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" She asked indignantly.

"Ma'am I don't think that is wise-" Fred stopped when she held up her hand, like a child with his hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar.

"This is not up for discussion, Frederic." He looked like he wanted to protest, but wisely kept his mouth shut. John kept silent but all of them could tell he was uneasy about it.

"Kelly, Sandra, escort Dr. Halsey to the Infinity." The two women saluted and took their place on either side of her.

"Don't worry about me. I brought crackers and cheese," All of them could hear him as he loudly chewed his food. "Well, enouph fur me anywy." He spoke around his food. "Just call the cavalry when you need it, Chief." Linda snorted and shook her head at her pilot's demeanor.

"Pop the hatch." Fred nodded and hit the button to drop the gangplank, starting the decompression sequence.

Come Back Next Time!

Sorry it took me so long to update. I hit a few snags when writing the plot and couldn't think of any good ideas. I didn't want to give you all garbage, so I just stepped back until something better came to me. This is the result of all the waiting. I hope you like it! I would love to hear your comments on this chapter and I hope the next one is just as good! Next time: Blue Team boards the Infinity! What will happen? Only I know…muhahahahahahahaha *cough* *cough* *cough*

Sorry, the power of the writer got to me a bit there. Anyway, don't forget to follow, favorite and review! Until next time fellow Halo fans!