The Rabbit and the Wolfe

Hello again, Halo fans! Glad you could join me for another chapter. Things are heating up for the last arc of RW: CL. The rebels are planning their attack on Tribute and won't let anything or anyone stand in their way. Meanwhile, the Infinity is still recovering from a massive attack, set to make an emergency jump to Earth for repairs. I wonder if things will turn out that way…Alright, that's enough blabbing from me. On to the action!

12: Lies and Betrayal

December 5, 2561

Unknown Location

Unknown Time

The Domain. Created by the Precursors hundreds of millions of years ago, this quantum information repository stored untold amounts of knowledge that stretched back millennia. But this knowledge was not static. It shifted, changed, like a memory or river. From one instant to the next, it was never constant. It was a place where the rules of time and space did not apply. At least those traditionally held by sentient beings. Few knew of its existence and even fewer knew how to access it, let alone understand it. The Forerunners were one such species. They routinely used it to store, share and access information in their daily lives. It formed the basis of many of their religious beliefs and was commonplace in their culture.

The care and study of such a prestigious aspect of Forerunner civilization fell to the Haruspis, individuals of elevated status entrusted with watching over and protecting the Domain. As Forerunner civilization thrived and prospered, they used their talents to help others access the repository for answers to a seemingly infinite number of quandaries. But alas, as the years passed, the Domain slowly fell into legend as the Flood parasite spread across the known galaxy like a plague. In the end, the Forerunners fired the Halo arrays, wiping out all sentient life, starving the Flood of their food source. The galaxy was silent as a tomb, completely devoid of life. But the advanced civilization had prepared for this. After the parasite receded back into whatever nightmarish hole it had emerged from, constructs designed by the Forerunners began their work to bring life back to the galaxy. Slowly, almost painstakingly so, life emerged once more, flourishing in a swarm of technological and societal advances or to crumble and perish in the ravenous maw of greed and conflict. And though the Forerunners were long gone, the remnants they left behind helped inspire and shape civilizations for millennia.

The Warden felt another presence in the vast digital cosmos of the void. This was not the first time he had encountered it, nor was it the only time he had indulged it in conversation. But it felt…different this time, more insistent. The Forerunner construct was wary of this new development but brushed these concerns aside. They were of little importance. Conversation, idle or not, came few and far between for the Warden. The Domain was not as populated as it once was. With so few other voices, the Warden Eternal had grown…lonely. He understood that this was an emotion experienced by sentient beings but dismissed it immediately. There would be time to ponder that particular existential quandary at a later time. With a simple command, his subroutines allowed the other presence to enter.

Can you not see it, construct? How our technological advancements are being squandered by these lesser races?! They are children, too infantile to understand what they possess!

They are learning, just as your own race did long ago. You must give them time. The Warden calmly responded. All beings crave knowledge, regardless of the purpose of its use. You cannot fault a species for partaking in a fundamental process of development. He continued, chiding the other presence for his faulty tirade.

The other being, a Forerunner Promethean, let out a noise that the Warden could only interpret as a growl. I have no quarrel with your logic, construct. My conflict lies with the Humans, not you. They are not fit to hold the Mantle! They were a scourge at the height of our empire, bringing the parasite with them wherever they wandered. Now, now they are a disease, defiling our technology and eroding what we have built over millennia! They are abhorrent. My love was wrong to save them. Eradication is the only sufficient conclusion.

The Warden could feel the anger and hatred emanating from the Didact. Like a lava flow, it was all-consuming, burning everything in its path. To the Forerunner commander, there was only one fate for Humanity: destruction. The construct could feel the Didact's presence pulse with power. Something was most certainly off. Instructing subroutines to examine the unsettling feeling that he had, the Warden sought to buy some time.

Perhaps your past with Humanity has tainted your judgement? I have observed flaws, inconsistencies, traits which match what you have described them to be in our previous conversations. But I have been watching, much longer than you, Didact. And not just the Humans. Out of all the sentient species the Forerunners seeded eons ago, Humanity is by far the most benevolent, not to mention beneficial, holder of the Mantle. And if memory serves, the Librarian believed the same, planting seeds to accelerate their evolution.

Then she was a fool! The Didact roared. She was wrong to entrust such a monumental task to a species so young and irresponsible. They consume themselves with war. They sow seeds of greed and mistrust to obtain paltry amounts of power. Humanity lacks the ability to govern itself, let along all other life in the galaxy. Clearly, your time spent in isolation has diminished your capacity to see the faults in other beings. The Warden could feel a surge of power come from the dark regions of the Domain, the likes of which he had witnessed during the height of the Forerunner empire. In his haste to engage in conversation, the Warden had overridden certain security protocols he felt were cumbersome and unneeded. He could have used those programs right about now. The surge of energy hit him like a runaway train, eating away at his code. There was nothing he could do now. It was only a matter of time.

Warden, your favoritism towards the Humans cannot be ignored, construct. They are just like the flood: a plague to be eliminated. And it is clear that you lack the conviction to do what needs to be done. I have no use for dull instruments. Your body will suffice. It is unfortunate that you must be erased in order to unlock what I need. I shall truly miss our conversations, Warden. Farewell.

With each segment of code that the Didact erased from existence, his form became more corporeal. The hum of the plates as they orbited his body rang through the repository like it was the only sound in existence. The soft chink of metal as they locked into place with as much of a sense of finality as his imminent demise. In a matter of minutes, the Forerunner commander would leave the digital realm, free to bring untold destruction upon all of Humanity. The Warden had failed to follow his directives, the Librarian, and worst of all, Humanity.

You underestimate them, Didact. And that will be your undoing. The Didact, now encased in one of the Warden's copies, scoffed at the construct's persistence.

No. it is you who underestimated me. Farewell, Warden. And with a flick of his hand, he erased the last of the guardian of the Domain, leaving it as empty as it was when the Halo arrays were fired. But this time was different. This time he would succeed, whatever the cost.

December 8, 2561

Humanity Mall,Tribute

Epsilon Eridani System

1020 hours

Gentle tropical winds swept across the vast forest of palm trees and other colorful fauna, draping the expanse of metal and stone in a myriad of natural colors that drew people, and their credits, from all corners of the galaxy. Shoppers bustled to and fro, their arms laden with treasures while their accounts looked on in abject horror. Young or old, rich or poor, Humanity Mall had something for everyone. Whether you owned your own fleet of ships of lived in the belly of one, there was one more place to explore, one more activity to enjoy. The people were friendly and welcoming, one could almost forget that a war for their very survival was less than a decade ago. Spires of all sizes and styles made up the skyline of the old capital, monuments to humanity's ability to recover and rebuild.

Woven through it all, much like DNA is packaged into every cell, statues and memorials told their stories of how Humanity triumphed in the face of almost impossible odds. It served to remind all who came that their victory was built on the sacrifice of millions. To look past inane, petty differences and unite under the common banner of humanity. And at the center of it all, towering over all other memorial sites, the Master Chief stood resolute, ready to fight any foe, his visor catching the glow of every new horizon.

You have given so much to ensure we continue to enjoy the luxury of life. But who are you under that helmet? What scars do you hide? A cool arm wrapped around her waist, bringing the teacher into a comfortable embrace. The smooth voice beside her pulled her from her thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" Kevin questioned.

"Spartans." Megan responded vaguely, still staring up at the statue from under her wide-brimmed hat. The stone seemed to glint like gems in the sunlight, its polished surface reflecting the untarnished record of every Spartan. Kevin didn't push, even though he had every right to, and Megan was grateful for that. In truth, it was not the Master Chief she imagined under all that armor: it was Linda. Ever since the sniper had accidentally revealed her super soldier roots, the teacher had done her best to learn all she could about her warrior friend. She scoured forums, blogs, footage and even official propaganda released by the UNSC. But it wasn't much. Almost everything she came across was classified or otherwise inaccessible. Most of her 'research' consisted of wild speculation, rumor, or firsthand accounts that consisted of so much black ink, they were practically worthless. Over the past few weeks it had become somewhat of an obsession for her, draining her time faster than an overcharged plasma pistol would drain shields. But at least she had a starting point, something to work with.

This had all stemmed from the fact that their last conversation had ended on a sour note and she wanted to make it up to the sniper. Megan had sent multiple messages, but so far had received no reply. Guilt and concern rippled within, shaking the teacher from the inside out.

"Come on." Megan said hastily, not willing to look at stone incarnation of Linda any longer. She dragged her boyfriend away by the hand, not waiting for a response.

"Are you ok, baby?"

"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" She answered, dismissiveness creeping into her tone.

"Because you always look me in the eye, even when your angry." Megan slowed her speed and pulled him under an awning. She exhaled slowly through her nose, giving her enough time to collect her thoughts. When she next opened her blue eyes, they instantly sought out the soft, deep brown ones. She could see the hurt within and instantly regretted her actions.

"I'm sorry. Truly, I am. I wasn't angry at you, just myself." He attempted to cut in, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. "I know what you're going to say. Believe me, you're right. So, I will make you a deal: I keep the pity party at bay for the entire vacation and the night before we leave, I'll show you the best night of your life." At that, his eyes lit up, his brows shooting halfway up his forehead.

"Seriously?" He questioned, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. A nod. "Wait. Are you sure. I don't want to pressure you into anything…" Megan rolled her eyes and gave him another nod. The smile that split his face was almost comical. "And what if you win?" He added skeptically.

She gave him a sly smirk. Yep, knew I was going to eat those words. "Well there's this one espresso machine I've had my eye on for a while now…" Well, if he didn't regret those words before, he did now.

"And before you get any ideas, I want the 900 series. A girl likes her options." With a rueful sigh, he nodded. "Deal."

"Good. I hope you know a good espresso…" She prodded playfully. Rolling his eyes, he leaned down for a kiss. She met him with a smile, allowing herself to be swept away by his ravishing charm. Intertwining their fingers, the two of them stepped back out into the blazing sun, content.

The heat rolled heavily down the street, leaving a sludgy mire of perspiration, dirt and grime that fought hard to cling to every pore it could. Those caught in the thick cloud were not pleased in the slightest, tugging at the clothes that stuck to their bodies like a second skin.

"When I decided to join you on this trip, melting was not on my list of things to do." Kevin complained beside her.

"No kidding, babe. This heat is killer." Megan concurred.

Wiping a few stubborn beads of sweat from her face with the sleeve of her dress, an odd noise caught her attention. It was too far away to distinguish, but it sounded like…fireworks? Why would they be lighting fireworks during the day?

"Kevin, do you hear that, that popping noise? Sounds like fireworks, right?"

Craning his neck around, he concentrated on the distant sounds. After a few moments, he turned back to her and shrugged. "I can't tell. Whatever it is, it won't be bothering us any time soon." Spotting a security booth, he pointed towards the group of guards posted outside.

"Excuse us, sir, but do you know what's going on? We heard noises. Is there a celebration going on somewhere?" The guard looked at them with a bored expression on his face. Clearly, the fierce temperatures had not improved his disposition.

"You're not from around here, are you? There's always a celebration going on." The popping noises sprouted up again, closer this time, and much louder. Some of the color drained from his face. "Wait, that sounds like-" Grabbing his helmet off a nearby table, he slipped it on and jogged down the street, pulling a pistol from his belt. The guard poked his head around the corner, and a second time. Fully moving into the alley, he raised his pistol. "Freeze!" Poor bastard didn't stand a chance. Within seconds, his dark red lifeblood sizzled on the hot sidewalk as heavy rounds ripped through his abdominal armor like it was paper.

Megan screamed as she was roughly pulled behind the guards, eyes locked on the horrifying sight before her.

"Call command! Let them know we're under attack! You two, with me. Let's get this son of a bitch!" The commander then turned to them. "Get out of here!" The teachers looked at her with dumbfounded expressions, still overcome with shock. "Now, damnit! Go!" She joined her comrades a moment later, adding her own lead to the firefight.

"Come on, Megan! We have to go!" Kevin yelled, pulling her away from the mounting pile of bodies. He could see more soldiers pouring out of the alleyway, many dressed in civilian clothing. What the hell is going on?! A high-pitched wail tore through the screams and the gunfire as an M990 electrothermal-chemical smoothbore cannon fired through a storefront at the other end of the street, shattering almost every glass pane around it. The high explosive shell detonated inside the small bunker, throwing multi-ton, reinforced concrete chunks high into the air. Megan felt bile rise in her throat as one of the heavy debris crushed a family of four, spraying the street with their mangled, gory remains. She felt the scream die in her throat as the Scorpion tank rumbled to life, crashing through the storefront, picking people off with its coaxial machine gun.

"Oh my god…" Megan muttered, horrified. They sprinted down the street, pushing through families and elderly alike. Above them, explosions dotted the skyline as the invaders engaged security aircraft in beautiful but deadly dogfights. It was like witnessing a car accident: horrible, but you couldn't look away. Bullets whizzed by as the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood filled their nostrils. Her lungs burned and her legs ached horribly. Turns out high heels are not the best shoes to be running in. She tossed them aside in disgust and kept on running, even as the shattered concrete and broken glass carved intricate paths into the bottoms of her feet. The screams of the dying filled the air around them, burning images and sounds into their brains, ensuring this day would never be forgotten.

"Burn, baby, burn!" An enormous gout of blue fire blasted out of a ruined spa like a dragon's maw, encompassing fleeing civilians in its heated gaze. This time Megan did lose her lunch as the propellant-based fuel ate at their flesh, consuming what it wished and charring the rest. Screams of agony resounded in her ears as people desperately tried to smother the flames. Both of them continued to heave until their stomachs had nothing left to offer, the smell of charred remains singeing their senses. All the while they laughed, laughed, at the pain they had willingly inflicted upon others.

"Nice 'un Crispy!" One of them cheered, laughing maniacally.

"Thank ya, Whispy! Hellbringers all the way!" Answered in a tone far too jovial for the atrocity they had just committed. Megan sobbed quietly into Kevin's shoulder as grief and feat slowly overtook her. They had avoided a horrible fate, but they weren't safe, not yet. After a few minutes the soldiers moved on, leaving the couple to fend for themselves as the city slowly tore itself apart.

"We're not safe here. We have to keep moving." Kevin reiterated. As long as they were in the city they were in danger. After a few minutes of quiet sobbing, she looked up from his tear-soaked shoulder. Her eyes were red and he could see the fresh trails as she wept for those who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gently, he wiped away the lingering tears, looking deep into her blue eyes. Wordlessly, he gathered himself. He had to stay strong for her. Leading her by the hand, they passed through the line of smoldering bodies, moving toward the outskirts. For almost an hour, they made solid progress, only stopping to rest and once to use the restroom. But like all things, their luck ran out eventually. It all happened so fast. One moment they were sneaking across an abandoned street. The next, Megan was flying through the air, her ears ringing like church bells and screaming bloody murder. Smashing through an office window with all the grace of a drunk elephant, her head slammed against a desk, taking her from the realm of consciousness.

December 12, 2561

UNSC Infinity, C-deck, bridge

Unknown System

1740 hours

Lasky tapped his fingers on the arm of his command chair, annoyed. His eyes slowly swept across the bridge, focusing on nothing in particular. Around him, officers worked diligently to keep their boat afloat in the pitch-black waters of the void. He could see the exhaustion and fatigue on their faces as clear as day, as if the emotions themselves had been painted on with a brush. The battle to regain control of their ship had taken so much from all of them. If those bastards wanted to tear this crew apart, they certainly succeeded. He could still taste the bitterness of the betrayal, worse than any bullet or knife. The mistrust that the rebels had sown was just one tick mark on a long checklist of problems. It was up to him to solve them. I can already feel the headache coming on. The steady, familiar hum of the engines had risen in pitch to an incessant, fluctuating whine as they fought to keep the weakened vessel inside the folds of slipspace. Lasky had to tip his hat to Cortana, Aura and the other engineers for working their magic to get the Infinity space worthy again. But did the results have to be so grating? He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to step on a live grenade, just so he wouldn't have to endure this damn noise any longer than he had to.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think we'll have to foot the bill on this one." Palmer spoke, her heavy boots thumping across the deck as she came to a halt beside him.

"A good thing too. That gaping hole alone would cost more than your pension." Lasky joked, a small smile adorning his face.

"A pension, Tom, really? When was the last time you ever heard of a Spartan receiving retirement benefits?" Palmer fired back. Though she meant it playfully, both understood Spartans had unusually short life spans, most of them ending at the business end of a rifle. A semblance of silence descended upon the duo like a thick blanket, muting any further attempts at conversation. Sarah cast numerous glances at her captain, unasked questions dancing around in her skull. Though the cyan visor protected her eyes from injury, it couldn't shield her curiosity from rearing its head. She didn't need a medical degree to see that he was under a lot of stress, they all were. But Lasky had the burden of command to bear. It was one that she was immensely familiar with and that she knew he would need a break after this was all over. They both would. Maybe she could arrange something, but that was for another time. They had other pressing concerns. Like keeping the ship together.

"Captain, I'm afraid our timetable must be modified." Aura's silky steel voice came over the speakers, slightly warbled from the damage to the ship. Lasky gave an exasperated sigh.

"Care to explain why, Aura? I would rather not delay our return, if at all possible. We have wounded that need serious medical attention, not to mention the severe structural damage."

"If you want to avoid a complete loss of engine integrity and subsequent meltdown, yes. The changes we had to make to turn the energy shield into a temporary solution were…extreme. We will need to drop back into normal space for a few standard Earth hours to allow the engines ample time to cool down." Lasky shook his head in defeat. As much as it pained him to do it, they would have to drop out of slipspace to reach their destination. And he would like to avoid turning into atomized particles and space dust if he could help it.

"Understood, Aura." He paused momentarily, as if weighing his options, before speaking again. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"Just that the engineers are threatening to space me if I do any further damage to their 'baby'. After several inquiries, I came to the conclusion that the joke would backfire. I do not require a mix of oxygen and nitrogen to breathe. They do. I will let you know when we are ready to proceed." The channel went dead as the AI disconnected.

Great. On top of everything else, I have to deal with a smart-ass Forerunner AI. Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, Lasky somehow found himself back writing his report to FLEETCOM. He also made sure Roland would send a copy to both ONI and HIGHCOM when the Infinity reestablished reliable communications. Red tape seemed the norm as of late, and he was just doing his best to please as many as he could while stepping on as few toes as possible. The last thing he needed was some high-ranking brass banging down his door at three in the morning because they were 'left out'.

"You're stressed, Tom. You could use a break. Tekes can handle the bridge." She told him gently, resting a gauntlet on his shoulder. In her peripherals, Sarah saw the ship's XO toss them a nod. Apparently, the Spartan commander was not the only one to notice their captain's condition.

"Everyone aboard this vessel could use a break, Sarah."

"But not all of them carry the burden of command."

"I'll rest when we safely get back to Earth." He said stubbornly, "These people are counting on me, Sarah." The Spartan commander crossed her arms, not backing down.

"Not everything needs to be carried on your shoulders, Tom."

"I said I'm fine!" Lasky snapped at her, sleep deprivation and anger nipping at his heels. A few crewmembers turned to them at the outburst but returned to their duties at a wave of the Commander's hand.

"Very well then, Captain." She spoke coldly, the use of his official title made him regret the words. "I have other matters to attend to." She added before storming off.

Great. Yet another thing I will have to fix. He thought, massaging his temples.

"Captain, Aura says they're ready to drop us out of slipspace. You might want to buckle up."

December 14, 2561

New Noida, Falaknuma

18 Scorpii System

1300 hours

Patricia had not been inside the local ONI offices for five minutes and she already hated it. Its crisp, sterile interior reminded her of a hospital more than any sort of office. She could feel her stomach churn as memories of her husband and daughter rose unbidden to contaminate her consciousness. With its white walls and cold lighting, it felt more like a prison, detached and isolated from everything around it. The use of glass and fauna to add some color to the otherwise bleak lobby felt like an affront to the structure, alien. As if the decorators were compelled to add them, more out of reflex than any sense of belonging. They felt out of place, wrong. Dread slithered up her spine like a snake, ready to inject its venom into her body if she made one wrong move.

Truthfully, she was surprised her appointment had been approved. The family of the young woman she had helped save on her home planet of Imber were very grateful. While they had no room to take her in, they asked if there was anything they could do to help her. More out of habit than anything else, she told them the story of the disappearance of her daughter, showing the data chip and expressing hope that she may find her someday. Turns out that woman had a brother who worked in the Office of Naval Intelligence, and while he was unable to provide her with any information, he promised he would secure a meeting for her after being relocated. She half expected the request to be immediately turned down, but without the war going on, the intelligence service had a lot more time on their hands now. She clutched the data chip to her chest, a beacon of hope in an ocean of dread and doubt. All these years of searching might finally pay off. The thousands of hours she had logged on both Waypoint and ChatterNet would finally lead her somewhere. Maybe not to her daughter, but to a clue, another piece of the puzzle.

I may have another lead, Douglas. Better than anything else. Not a rumor or conspiracy theory, but a meeting with ONI! We've looked for answers for so long…exhausted all our options. It consumed our lives…but with this meeting we may finally find her. Our daughter, our little sapphire. She closed her eyes as the emotions swirling behind them threatened to spill over.

"Mrs. Patricia Shaddock?" She looked up at the mention of her name to come face to face with a virtual giant. Built like a brick wall, the gun on his hip was almost laughable in comparison. The man looked like he could snap a Spartan in half without breaking a sweat. But his eyes shined brightly, not yet dulled by the morally grey areas in which ONI operated.

"Yes?"

"If you will please follow me." He was succinct but professional and polite, something Patricia could appreciate. She followed a few steps behind him as he set a leisurely pace, conscientious of her smaller stature. So far, he was a far cry from the elderly receptionist, who sneered at her while she was forced to explain she did indeed have an appointment and it was important. They entered the nearest elevator and he keyed in the 47th floor. "Don't mind James. Someone keeps pissing in his coffee." He spoke, noticing her sour demeanor.

"Thank you." He gave her a short nod. "Are you the agent that I'm supposed to meet or…"

He gave her another nod. "Yes. I owed a few favors and Yammy was just one of few to cash in." A look flashed in his eyes, one she had seen on Imber many times. Unspeakable horrors that no language had the ability to express, memories that would haunt them to the end.

"Yammy? That was not the name he gave me." She questioned cautiously, afraid she had stepped on a nerve.

The man gave a light chuckle at some unknown memory. "No. It was a nickname he earned when we served together. Used to bake amazing sweet potato dishes whenever we came back home." Patricia gave him a warm smile. "Sorry for the trip down memory lane. Name's Brian. Brian Smir" Patricia remained silent as the elevator reached its destination. Stepping out, she followed the agent, doing her best to ignore the stares from everyone else. Entering an unmarked door, she came face to face with an equally unremarkable room. A metal table and a couple of folding chairs sat in the center, an island of steel among the concrete. What little space remained was allotted to a jug of water and a single decaying plant, which was little more than a pile of sticks at this point.

"This isn't an interrogation, but it was the best I could do on such short notice. ONI doesn't really take well to surprises. If you learn anything today is that ONI's network of favors is almost as large as its intelligence network." He gestured for her to take a seat.

"It will do." Patricia pulled the chain over her head, letting it rest heavily in her hand. It pulsed regularly, like a heartbeat, almost as if it was encouraging her to tell her story. To find answers. She nervously licked her lips; her mouth felt like a desert. Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, she began her story. "My daughter went missing more than four decades ago."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry for your loss, but this isn't an ONI concern. You should talk with the police." Patricia glared icily at him. She was done being brushed off. "I'm not finished." The agent leaned back in his chair, his eyes wide in surprise. Clearly, he had not expected such a reaction. Curling her hands gently around the chip, she pushed on. "I have talked with hundreds of people, Agent Smir. Police, governments, politicians, social workers and anyone else who would listen. Many were like you, dismissive and unconcerned with our plight. My late husband and I spent our lives searching for her." The anger rescinded just as quickly as it arrived, taking her confidence with it. "If ONI can't help me, I don't know how much longer I can keep going…You're my final hope." Patricia slumped in her chair as the final words left her mouth. She was exhausted from years of searching. After her husband died, it had been the only thing to keep her going. But she was at her wit's end. But her life was starting to fall apart, like a rope beginning to fray after years of strain and stress. Meeting her daughter was a certainty. It was only a question of if it would be in this life or the next.

"I was curious about why you were here, Mrs. Shaddock. Now, you have my attention." He said, sitting back down, doing his best to ignore the complaining furniture below him. Leaning back into the rigid chair, Brian resisted the twitches in his muscles urging him to fold his arms in front of him. He wanted garner information and backing the widow into a corner was not the way to go about it. Gently, he set a data pad on the table with a soft clack. "Well then, let's find out what really happened."


"None of this makes any sense to me, I'm afraid. None of the time tables match up. And this bit about secret projects under ONI's oversight? I can tell you for a fact that's not true." Patricia couldn't stop shaking. Her final, desperate attempt for answers, gone. Popped like a balloon. The final dam of hope against the onslaught of pain and sorrow had finally broken. She had exhausted all of her avenues. There was nothing left for her now.

Brian placed his hand atop hers until she met his eyes. "Hey, I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But there is nothing we can do. It may be time to face the fact that your daughter is gone. I wish I had something more to offer than empty words." His heart broke at the woman's plight, but he had directives to uphold. She shook her head, offering him a small, sad smile.

"No. I should be thanking you. Your words may not have been the ones I wanted, but I guess I just needed someone to finally say them. I just wish my husband could have been here. At the end, all he wanted was closure." She ran a thumb along the small chip, memories of a happier time caressing her consciousness.

"Is this the only copy? Of the data, I mean. I can ask around, see what my superiors have to say. It's a big network after all. Somebody must have seen something." The questions killed him inside. Misleading a clearly distraught widow like this? It was like nails on a chalkboard, permanently scarring his moral compass. But ONI directives are clear and leave no room for error or interpretation.

"Yes," she lied. "Just promise me you'll take good care of it. It's really all I have left of my family." What the agent didn't know was that she had made multiple copies on the encouragement of the ONI operative. She didn't know exactly what they would do with it, but just by looking at the building's exterior, was certain she would never see it again. The pain of the betrayal was as real as she was but for the sake of her baby, she had to keep up the act. Now it was a battle of deceit and misinformation. This may be ONI's battlefield, but Patricia was learning fast.

She felt a pang of sadness as Agent Smir slipped the chip into his pocket. "Don't worry," He said reassuringly, noticing the longing look she gave the device. "It's in good hands." She offered a timid nod in return. Liar. "I'll show you out." Their steps echoed in the empty halls as she trailed behind the mammoth of a man. Once she was out the front doors, he quickly made his way up to his office. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he took a slow sip, savoring the subtle hints of chocolate and raspberries. His com link chipped loudly, annoyed at his sluggish pace. Keying into the channel, he addressed the person on the other end. "Yes, sir…Yes, though I had the feeling she didn't know what she truly possessed. Some of the documents made references to Section Three, but nothing concrete. Pretty impressive for a civilian…I understand…No, I have it. And before you ask it was the only copy…Of course I'll do a surveillance sweep…I will have the data copied and sent right over…Standard erase and destroy, understood…Do you want me to keep tabs on her, sir…What do I think? I think she's been through enough. You didn't see how broken she was, the hopelessness in her eyes as I lied to her face. In all honesty, I think she's done with it all. Keep a few passive tabs on her for a couple of months than let her be…Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He ended the call and tossed the earpiece on his desk. Plopping into his plush chair, he let material do its best to absorb him. Those metal chairs were always hard on his spine. He would send the data, along with their entire conversation over for analysis. But first, he was going to finish his wine.

Back on the street, Patricia fell into step with the throng of citizens and refugees. The noise and dirt were a relief for her after being in that quiet, sterile environment for so long. She allowed her mind to drift as her feet ferried her to her next destination. She dipped into a passing alley to shake any possible pursuers. She had seen it in an action vid once. A thrill went up her spine as she circumvented the putrid dumpsters and cries of the needy. Exiting out the other side, she quickly slithered through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone. Oh, I feel ten years younger! A small laugh bubbled up and she let it out, not remotely interested in the confused and alarmed looks she received in return. Pausing only to purchase a prepaid communication device, she maintained her steady pace. Inserting the device, she ran through the officer's instructions. Connecting the call took a few minutes, but Patricia was in no hurry; watching people pass by, consumed by their own affairs.

"Who is this?" A woman's voice snapped in her ear. Patricia had been told not to mince words and got directly to the point.

"I was told I could cash in a favor."

"From who?"

"The potato man." She spoke coolly, using the code words that should get her what she needed if she was stonewalled by ONI, which was exactly what happened. Personally, she thought the phrase a bit inane, but if it helped her find her lost daughter, she would utter every silly word she could think of. The harsh click of the com line going dead brought her crashing back to reality. What the heck? I though thi-

INBOUND CALL (ENCRYPTED)- UNKNOWN LISTING

*Exercise Caution*

The words blinked on the small eyepiece, refusing to be ignored. Hesitantly, she answered, her fingers shakily accepting the call as if she was diffusing a bomb.

"Hello?"

"Sorry about that. Had to make sure ONI couldn't listen in, the nosey fuckers." The woman let out an angry huff through her nose. Clearly, whoever this woman was, she didn't think very highly of the intelligence community. "Now, what can I do for ya?"

"Are you any good at…hacking? I need to send a message." Patricia asked, barely above a whisper. The woman laughed at that, pulling Patricia's features into a frown. She couldn't help it if this stuff was foreign to her!

"Listen. I'm the best in the business. What do you need?"

"I need to send a message to the leader of the Office of Naval Intelligence. In a way that reaches her directly and can't be screened out." The woman let out a low whistle.

"Damn. That's some serious shit right there. Admiral Ozzy, you say? Normally, for a job like this I would charge an arm and a leg, but since you did my friend a serious solid, I'll let it slide." Patricia finally allowed herself to breathe again. The pressure that had constricted her chest floated away like midday clouds. She smiled, a big toothy one that had been hidden behind wounded eyes and a shattered heart. And just like that, her emotional experience inside that prison that ONI called offices was washed from her mind.

"Thank you." She choked out between sniffles.

"Nah, don't mention it. Hell, I'd bring down the entire UNSC to find my kid." The woman was silent for almost a full five minutes as she worked her magic. "Alright, what do you want me to say?" Patricia relayed the message, confidence flowing into her with each word she spoke. The two of them read it over a few times, just to be sure. It had to be perfect. Her little sapphire was counting on it.

"I think that looks good." Patricia said, satisfied.

"I agree. I hope you find your little girl." The hacker responded, her voice laced with undertones of hope. "And hey, it's better than most of the messages I send to her."

"This isn't your first time with ONI?"

"Oh no," The hacker replied gleefully. Patricia swore she heard the other woman's eyes glint mischievously. "Every few months or so I send her a little 'relations package', just to show 'em I can rifle through their dirty laundry whenever I feel the need. Sent one poor analyst to the hospital after he had a meltdown."

Though their business was concluded, Patricia wanted to hear the rest of this little tale. "Really? What's inside this 'relations package'?"

"Alien porn." The hacker responded without missing a beat. The silver-haired woman choked on her drink, her face blossoming a bright red.

"W-what?!" She stammered. "That's- That's-"

"Yeah, I know, right!? Do yourself a favor, don't look up anything to do with Jackals. That shit is nas-tay."

"I'll remember that." Her diaphragm hurt from laughing so hard. Excitement was something in short supply before she left her home. Now…she never felt more alive. Perhaps she was overstating things a bit, but the widow wished she had done this years before. Regretfully, not everyone could see how revitalized she had become. At this sobering thought, she shook her head, releasing a heavy sigh from her lips. "Again. Thank you."

"Again, no problem." The hacker answered, mirroring her words. "Gotta go! Got another job. Don't worry about ONI, they'll leave you alone. Just a bit pissy that I rifled through their dirty secrets again. And don't stress about little miss Ozzy either. She'll get the message and come running. Tell her Taurus says hi. And if you see my idiot friend again, tell him his codenames are fucking stupid. Good luck, peace out, all that shit." And just like that, the line went dead, leaving the widow to enjoy the city. Nothing to do now but wait.

December 16, 2561

UNSC Infinity, S-deck, Spartan Quarters

Slipspace, in Transit to Tribute

2215 hours

Kelly waited patiently outside of her quarters, eyes closed to shut out the vibrant lighting. Amber slept soundly across the hall, exhausted by the day's events. The young Sangheili had shown a keen interest in MJOLNIR armor and had scurried around the armor bays for most of the day. While it was beyond her understanding, Kelly was pleased her daughter had found something to spark her interest (and undying curiosity). Silence had always been unnerving for the Spartan. It allowed them time to think. And lately, Kelly had much to ponder.

I wonder what Halsey would think of the new me? Joy? Understanding? Disgust? I guess it doesn't matter in the end, though…Sandra's opinion is the only one that matters. John and the others are supportive, in their own way, but they don't understand. Perhaps it's for the best. Blue Team cannot afford to fail. The mission comes first. Always.

That got her thinking. What was her mission, long term? Did it remain within the confines of the UNSC? What would happen if the completely stepped out the mold she had lived in all her life? No mission, no objectives, it was terrifying. Despite that fear, Kelly was confident she could learn to adapt, to live.

"Ready?" The heavens opened their gates, bathing the Spartan in brilliant golden rays. Warm beams caressed her skin like a lover on a summer's night, gentle and nurturing. The voice of an angel. Its melodic chords resounded in her chest, giving her strength. A hint of a smile broke through her stoic exterior. "Hey, are you alright?" Kelly gave short nod.

"Fine."

"You know what fine stands for, right?" The smile obvious in the blonde's playful words. Here we go.

"Do tell." Kelly replied sardonically, doing her best to ignore how close her lover was.

"Fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Now are you sure you're fine?" Cracking an eye open, she gave Sandra the most disappointed look she could muster. As usual, it had absolutely no effect to discourage her partner's behavior, only eliciting a dazzling smile that sent shivers down her spine.

"You are a child." She chided the shorter Spartan, not daring to mention a few other adjectives that were swirling around in her head. Kelly would never hear the end of it. The last thing she wanted to do was inflate her overzealous ego.

"Yes, but I'm your child." Sandra said, stepping into Kelly's space. "Wait. That sounded wrong. Please forget I said that." Kelly flashed her a sly smirk, enjoying the horror in the woman's green pools. That's for all the times you blindsided me.

"Please. I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Kelly pushed, enjoying these vocal battles. She didn't have to duck.

"I've said it once, I'll say it again. You have a dirty mind, Blue Four." Kelly moved off the titanium wall, rolling her stiff shoulders. Sandra must have noticed because her eyes lit up. "How about a massage?"

"A…massage?" The scout parroted, confused.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she led the older Spartan by the hand into their room. Adjusting the light settings to 'candlelight', Sandra pointed at the bed. "Lay down." Kelly followed the command, easing into the stiff cot as best she could. Sandra slid in after a moment, straddling her waist. Her muscles tightened reflexively, like a rattlesnake preparing to strike. "Damn, your back feels like Luna looks after a meteor shower!" The older soldier only growled as Sandra's lithe, powerful fingers dug into her skin.

Miraculously, her partner's hands hadn't strayed into territory that would be deemed…inappropriate, something Kelly was immensely thankful for. Surrounded by titanium, sound tended to travel. Apologizing to the poor soul that got an earful of their nightly activities was not going to happen. Ever. "I'm surprised you haven't groped me yet." Kelly said, voicing the thought in her head.

"Oh, I've thought about it. But I wouldn't poke the sleeping dragon if I were you."

"And what if I do?" Kelly shot back, a low moan escaping from her lips as Sandra tackled a particularly difficult knot.

Sandra leaned in close, pressing herself into Kelly's back, and whispered seductively into her ear. "Try it and find out." Kelly's skin exploded with color, her pale skin taking on a healthy shade of pink. Sandra's more intimate comments never failed to excite her. The shiver of pleasure lanced down her spine proved this time was no different. She was tempted to, oh so tempted. To rouse the dragon; to be completely consumed by its alluring, carnal flame. Her training and instincts fought the raging fires of desire that burned in her core, using logic to douse the blaze before it consumed everything in sight.

"Sandra?" Her voice was tainted with desire, but she held fast. There was a question she needed an answer to. Mercifully, Sandra noted the subtle undertones in her lover's shaky words and gave the older Spartan room to breathe. Forest green pools met her own and the world melted away. Kelly could see the answer swirling inside viridescent orbs, unspoken but resolute. "What's our objective?"

"For our next mission? I don't-" Sandra began, tilting her head, blonde tresses flowing over her shoulder like a golden waterfall. It was one of many things Kelly found endearing.

"No," Kelly interrupted. "I mean with us."

A look of realization passed over her pup's face. "Oh. Well, I, uh…I'm not sure. But whatever comes next, we'll tackle it head on. Together." Sandra enwrapped her bunny's lips in a kiss, petrissage forgotten.

"Together." Kelly whispered when they broke apart. The younger Spartan climbed into the bed, snuggling up against her lover. Even the incessant whine of the overtaxed hybrid engines couldn't keep them from succumbing to the embrace of sleep. War would call upon them in the coming days. And they would answer, as they always did. Alone, they were formidable. Together…they were unstoppable.

Come Back Next Time!

Glad you made it to the end! Hope you all enjoyed the next step in the RW adventure. Next chapter the action ramps up as the fighting spreads throughout Humanity Mall. Fear not, for our fearless Spartans are set to meet the enemy! Thanks again for your continued support for this series! As always, a big shout out to my editor. For without him, my chapters would look like garbage. Don't forget to favorite, follow and review!