The Rabbit and the Wolfe

Sorry it took me so dang long. I had a bunch of life stuff that got in the way. Plus, a serious case of writer's block. But I'm back and I brought you some goodies! The next chapter of the Rabbit and the Wolfe is here. Megan takes a front seat in this chapter as she tries to survive in a city under attack, while Linda engages with hostile forces. What will happen? Read to find out! Don't forget to favorite follow and review!

15: One Shot. One Kill.

December 24, 2561

Sector 13, Humanity Mall, Tribute

Epsilon Eridani System

2230 hours

Megan wiped some of the grime from her forehead with the back of her palm, utterly exhausted. Between taking care of the sick and injured or occupying the children with stories, the teacher had taken little time to rest. She had trouble concentrating, her muscles ached fiercely and her eyes had picked up the tendency to drift shut. A shower sounds marvelous right about now. Heck, I'd even settle for a nap. A few militia passed by, giving her a silent nod in thanks. Though no one actually admitted it, Megan had eased some of the strain on the soldiers these past few days.

"Here." A voice said beside her, offering a damp cloth. She took it with a tired smile, scrubbing her face as best she could. Even with all these people from different walks of life, there was only one person that had an Australian accent. "You know," He continued. "I think there's still some cold coffee in the mess if you want a cup. Or the sludge the UNSC tries to pass off as coffee…" Megan let out a snort, amused. The Australian really liked his caffeine water. Funnily enough, Chipps Dubbo was the closest thing she had to a friend right now.

"It's not half-bad warmed up." She responded, a smile evident in her voice.

"You Earth folks have a funny idea of what coffee is." Megan rolled her eyes. To him, bad coffee was a cardinal sin. They fell silent, not willing to diverge from the current topic of conversation. Looking about one of the many wards that had been stuffed, almost overflowing, with refugees, the teacher spotted more than her fair share of couples. They cradled one another close, whispering words of comfort in a time of war and uncertainty. The pang of loneliness hit her hard. She hadn't thought of Kevin in a few days and she felt monumentally guilty about it. As a teacher, helping others had always been a key part of her. She was just going about it a different way. She could only hope that he would understand.

"Yeah, I guess…" She muttered, not really paying attention. Chipps turned to her, bemusement clearly written on his face.

"You look like ya' got a lot going on in there." He said after a few moments. "Want to share?" He picked his words carefully, as not to overstep any boundaries. Megan rolled the words over in her head for a while, considering how she wanted to respond. Her tongue urged her to say something but none of the answers tasted right. Because as much as she loved her boyfriend, and rightfully worried about him, she was more worried about Linda. Linda was a soldier. A Spartan. The frontlines were the sniper's home; where she was most at home. But that brought with it its own dangers and complications. With people constantly trying to kill her friend, how could she not worry? Megan felt as if she was being torn between the love for her boyfriend and the safety of one of her best friends. She wasn't going to lie: between her fluctuating emotional state and the battle around her, the stress was starting to take its toll. The entire situation was a mess.

"It's…complicated." She finally said. Dubbo grunted in understanding.

"Dubbo!" A voice boomed from behind making them both jump. If Megan hadn't used the bathroom earlier, she surely would have pissed herself. As if on cue, they both turned to meet the stern, grizzled face of Sergeant Mathers. "Quit your yammering and relieve Klekon! The kid's practically dead on his feet." She said, jamming a thumb behind her for emphasis. His lack of immediately movement annoyed her. "Move it, soldier!" Her voice rumbled through the ward, temporarily silencing all other conversation.

The poor Australian jumped like someone lit his ass on fire, booking it to his post as fast as his legs could carry him. He would rather be on the business end of a rifle then be the brunt of his Sergeant's wrath. At least a bullet would give him a chance of survival.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get him in trouble." Megan said after he rounded the corner, guilt creeping into her tone.

Mathers let out a burst of laughter. "Naw, I was just busting his balls. Nothing to be sorry for."

"Oh." Megan said, unsure of what else to say.

"These prideful morons would never admit it, but you've been a huge help around here." Mathers said, her voice just loud enough to pick out through the noise. Megan guessed the sergeant didn't want people to know she had any sort of soft spot.

"T-thank you." Her surprise was not unwarranted, as she never expected to receive praise from anyone, let alone the stone-faced sergeant. The older woman waved off her thanks like it wasn't necessary. Explosions echoed overhead, the shockwaves rumbling through the hospital's foundation. The battle in Tribute's orbit had obviously gone well for the UNSC, because additional troops and supplies were ferried to the surface every day. But it was a different story on the ground. The Front had dug in hard and were becoming extremely difficult to extricate. While Megan wasn't an expert on military tactics by any means, one piece didn't seem to fit: the Spartans. "Can I ask you a question, ma'am?" The teacher said after unable to form her own answer to the question. Mathers grunted but gave no further response. "Do you know what-"

"All right everyone, listen up!" Mathers shouted, her booming voice carrying itself across the entire room. Megan quickly swallowed the rest of her question and turned her full attention to the militia leader's words. "The Front is on its way." Immediately, murmurs and questions sprung up from the civilians gathered inside the brightly lit ward. Megan was one of those individuals, exchanging worried looks with whoever looked in her direction. "But!" She continued, her gaze level and her voice steady. A drastic difference from the teacher's own worry and fear, which settled in her stomach like a lead brick. "We planned for this. Follow my trooper's commands in a calm, collected manner and we will all get out of here safe and sound."

"Where are we going?" Someone shouted from the back as the civilians began to pack up what little they had brought with them into the hospital.

"It seems the UNSC has heard our prayers. They have set up a camp, of sorts, big enough to accommodate everyone. That's where we're going." Trepidation and excitement buzzed about the atrium in equal measure. The Front seemed unstoppable, but that would certainly change now that the UNSC was here, right? One could only hope.

Mathers, flanked by a handful of her soldiers, led the first big group out into the darkness of the wintery Tribute night. The cold bit into unprotected skin and the crevices of the light clothing that many had brought, not expecting such a drastic drop in temperature. Megan watched from behind a barricade, volunteering to stay behind to help those less mobile. As their forms gradually blended into the darkness around them, the woman was only able to listen as their boots crunched the broken glass that littered the streets around them. As the last footsteps were swallowed by the silence around them, she eased herself down to the floor. Letting out a weary sigh through her nose, Megan finally took a few moments to herself.

"Don't fall asleep on us lady." One of the militia troops joked. She gave the man a soft smile and closed her eyes once more. Just a few minutes. Then I'll be good to go.


Megan was torn from her slumber as a muffled explosion shook the walls around her, sending a cascade of paint chips down upon her head. Brushing most of the chips from her hair, she stood up on shaky legs. The pins and needles in her legs made walking uncomfortable but the desire to see the evacuation through spurred her on. Her blood ran cold as an all-too-familiar sound burst from just beyond the door: gunfire. Quickly locking the door, she scampered behind a bed, the only real protection the small room offered. Sequestered in her self-made prison, she could hear the terrified screams as people were wrenched from their hiding spots. The short bursts of gunfire, that heralded someone's demise. But worst of all was the silence, those moments where no distinct sounds could be heard over the accelerated palpitations of her own heart. They were coming for her, she could feel it. Faceless creatures who lived in the dark, spreading terror and tragedy in their wake.

The door, the sole thing holding this enemy back, exploded inward, throwing shards of metal into the walls and sending others skittering across the floor. Megan let out a terrified shriek, drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She could hear voices but they felt muffled, detached, as if there was no one there at all. A bright light was thrown in her face, forcing her to close her eyes and look away so as not to go temporarily blind. One of the group grabbed her wrist and yanked her roughly to her feet.

"Look what I found!" The soldier announced excitedly, smiling as he watched the aquamarine haired woman struggle weakly in his grip.

"Good to know that you can find a single person in a six by six room." One of his comrades piped up, earning a chuckle from a few others.

"Har dee fucking har." He said, unamused. "Let's just go. Don't want to keep the commander waiting." Twisting her arm behind her back, he led her out into the hallway, closely followed by the rest of the patrol. As they made their way into an unfamiliar wing of the hospital, Megan wished she had been blinded by the flashlight. Corpses, both civilian and not, lay strewn in the hallway. Blood flowed from their wounds like crimson streams, permanently staining the once-white floors. Her stomach churned each time she stepped in a pool of gore, the soft squelch doing nothing to ease the rising nausea. Finally, she closed her eyes, choosing to stumble over the dead rather than look them in the eye.

The group eventually entered a reception area. Unlike the last one Megan had been through, which was well-lit and decently comfortable, this one seemed a world away. Glass and rubble covered much of the floor, as if a bomb had gone off. The lights, those that were still functioning, flickered occasionally, casting odd shadows that seemed to warp and shift with each passing second. The air felt cold and heavy, like a graveyard on a dark and foggy night. With each step she was forced to take, Megan felt as if a part of her was dying, under constant siege by all this anger and malcontent. She longed for something to be right again, a ray of sunshine through this seemingly impenetrable darkness.

With a hard slap on the glutes, the Front soldier practically threw her into the throngs of other frightened civilians, laughing as they left. Megan glared daggers and the soldier's retreating back, massaging her aching arm. As the man's mismatched armor disappeared around the corner, Megan melted into the crowd, muttering obscenities under her breath.

"M-Megan?!" A voice choked out, disbelief clearly written in their tone. Her heart leapt into her throat as she turned around. Ba-dump. She couldn't believe her eyes. Were they playing tricks on her? Ba-dump. His skin held a dark vibrancy like she never noticed before. His hazel eyes seemed to hold a touch of honey. Ba-dump. The man she thought she had lost…or worse. Crossing the room before her brain could register what was happening, Megan collapsed into his embrace, tears rolling unabated down her cheeks. Like a fire reaching a field of dry brush, unquenchable passion ignited within her and she crashed her lips against his. Megan poured everything she had into that one kiss, her fears and concerns, hoping that he would understand.

"I-I thought I'd l-l-lost y-you." She choked out between sobs. Part of her hated that she sounded like a blubbering seal, but she pushed it away. She sighed contently as he ran a hand through her hair, tucking a few loose locks behind her ear. He let her quietly cry on his shoulder for a few minutes, his shirt soaking up her emotions that made the transition to the physical plane. He led her over to a collapsed concrete pillar, easing her down on its cool surface.

"When I woke up and you weren't there, I thought you may have…well, never mind." He spoke, his voice cracking as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close.

"I'll fill you in…later. All I want to do is fall asleep in your arms." He hummed his assent, just glad that she was back in his arms, safe. Megan fell into an exhausted sleep in minutes, the day's events finally catching up to her.

Sector 13, Humanity Mall, Tribute

2345 hours

Linda never liked rain on the battlefield. It only served to complicate variables that were already constantly shifting. Crouched in a narrow archway, she watched a trio of soldiers drink and laugh, oblivious to the sniper's presence. She brought her battle rifle to bear, flicking the safety off and zeroing in on her first target. The first burst caught a burly soldier in the throat mid-laugh, splitting it open like a Sangheili jaw. He crumpled to the ground, wet, sloppy gurgles spewing from the remains of his vocal cords. The second muzzle flash caught the next soldier in the base of the neck, the lead projectiles severing his spine and killing him instantly. The final trooper dropped his beer, horrified that his two companions dropping dead before his eyes. The last thing he saw was a puff of gold before Linda's final burst tore through his brain, reducing it to a pile of grey mush. Stepping from the darkness, the sniper encountered no further resistance. She had not gone a hundred feet from her hiding spot when her radio burst to life.

"This is Sergeant Mathers, Tribute Militia, does anyone read? I repeat, does anyone copy?"

"This is Sierra-058, UNSC. How can I assist?" The woman's name sounded familiar, but for the life of her she couldn't place it.

"I don't recognize that callsign. What branch are you?" Linda quickly snuffed out the momentary bristle of frustration. Allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement could endanger this op.

"Spartan, ma'am." While not technically true, she didn't have time to talk semantics.

"Spartan, we had to evacuate a hospital we were using as a temporary headquarters. The Front was closing in and we couldn't risk an engagement with so many civilians. Unfortunately, not all of them made it out. According to our latest intel, the rebels are using it as a staging area or a depot of some sort, they weren't entirely clear." She could hear the aggravation in the sergeant's voice. Linda could relate. She disliked incomplete intel and hated being kept in the dark. "What was clear, however, was that they have civilian hostages." The redhead cursed under her breath. Hostages tended to muddy the waters. A lot.

"Understood. Give me a location."

"It's in sector-"

"Ma'am," Linda cut in. "With all due respect, I just need a location, not a play-by-play." She caught the other woman's insult but it wasn't worth mentioning. Her HUD indicated she had an incoming data burst. The blue waypoint hovered a half klick to her northeast. Even without the armor's help, Linda spotted a few nearby skyscrapers that could provide an excellent vantage.

"Location received. I'll get it done."

"There's only one of you?!" Mathers responded, astonished. It was clear that the militia leader was expecting a team, not a lone spartan. But she didn't know Linda. The redhead did her best work when there was no one around to watch.

"Only need one." She cut the com channel before Mathers could say anything else. Keeping it open would be a waste. Silence was her companion. She thrived in it. Breaking into a light jog, the lone sniper headed for her destination with only the steady pulse of her vitals serving as her companion.


The wind swirled around her tan Mjolnir armor, scooping up dust and ash from the recent aerial battles and tossing it to the heavens in a flurry. Upon first look, Linda almost mistook it for a swarm of mosquitoes, it was that thick. Even with the full moon and her enhanced vision, the redhead still needed her armor's systems to highlight the bodies behind the ash and the smoke. As each fatality ticked off, she felt a rare spike of anger surge through her body, coiling around her heart like a python, yearning to crush the tiny muscle within its grasp. What a waste, she thought, her fingers squeezing the grip till her knuckles turned white. Casting her eyes upward, she frowned. The only way to get the vantage point she was after was to keep climbing upward. Unfortunately, an airstrike had reduced most of the remaining floors to little more than half-melted girders and chunks of polycrete not much wider than her shoulders. She would have to be ascend carefully, as one wrong step could send her plummeting a hundred or more meters to the pavement below. While her thrusters would save her life, the civilians might not have that kind of time. Nodding to herself, she clamped Nornfang to her back and rolled her shoulders a few times to loosen the muscles.

Bending her knees, Linda eyed the first beam. In a feat of astounding athletic ability, the sniper easily leapt over a meter, landing squarely on the strut. Bad idea. The metal screeched in protest at the sudden weight of a full suit of Mjolnir armor. Like a bullet from a rifle, Linda leapt to another handhold, clamping down on the chunk of polycrete as the girder gave way and fell into the darkness below. Stamping down the upsurge of fear, the Spartan focused in on her next landing zone. Throwing her legs back and forth, she slowly built momentum. Releasing her hold, she flew through the air, once again landing flawlessly. Meter by meter, Linda made her way up the exposed guts of the skyscraper, using her thrusters when a little extra distance was needed. With any luck anyone who looked this way would attribute the pulses of her jets to a lingering fire or sparking electronics, not a UNSC super soldier.

Hauling herself onto the slab of polycrete, her moment of elation disappeared like a drop of water on a hot stove. From her position below, she couldn't know how exposed she would be. According to her intelligence, the sun rose in the East, which would put it…directly in her face. She would not have the shadows to hide in. Beyond a few loose pieces of stone, there was nothing in the way of cover. The redhead would be a sitting duck for enemy snipers. Overall, it was not ideal. But she'd worked with less before. Kicking a few of the larger chunks off the makeshift platform, she got to work. Setting her precious rifle to the side, she thumbed open a satchel attached to one of her armor's hardpoints, pulling out a trio of bulky cylindrical stakes. Descending from a centuries old tradition of climbing nature's most intimidating structures, these dual-purpose instruments served to anchor platforms together. She placed one at each corner and keyed in their activation. Using a durable pneumatic system, the spikes were simultaneously driven into the stone with a small thunk and the high tensile cables were launched into the ceiling above. As long as the entire building didn't come down on her, the cables would hold her aloft, even in the event the supports below gave way. All set. Easing herself into a prone position, Linda pulled Nornfang gently into her grasp and brought the hospital into her sights.

Its white coat stood out, almost garishly so, amongst the smoking ruins and charred stone of its neighbors. The neon symbols that ordained its surface flickered intermittently, like the hope of the city it represented. Once, it was a place of majestic buildings and lush, flowing gardens. As survivors of the war that nearly claimed their entire species began to restore what had been lost. To see it survive almost guaranteed extinction, for it to collapse because of treachery was just…wrong. The fate of the city hung in the balance. But the Spartans were not alone in this fight. Good men and women were giving their lives to ensure the Front did not establish a foothold on this planet. Linda could only do her part. After all, the woman could work miracles with just one HEAP round. Who knew the untold chaos she could wreak with a few dozen?

December 25, 2561

UNSC Infinity, Low Orbit over Tribute

C-deck, Bridge

0135 hours

"I'm going on record, Tom. This has got to be one of the worst ideas you've had to date." Palmer said, voicing her concerns over this new plan the Captain of the Infinity had just concocted.

Lasky massaged his temples gently, doing his absolute best not to let the pounding migraine get to him. He had to be strong for his crew after all. After his shift, however, he was going to take some pills to dull the pain and sleep like a stone. "I understand your concerns, Sarah,"

"And ignoring them." Palmer interjected sourly.

"But I still think this is the best course of action. There were only a handful that didn't go for my service weapon as soon as I stepped into the room." Lasky continued in spite of his Commanders reservations. Palmer shifted uneasily in her armor, her trigger finger itching for her pistol. Why was it that most of Tom's plans made her irritable or uncomfortable?

"It's not the loud ones you need to worry about." Palmer added.

"Hence the precautions." He looked up at her, their chocolate eyes locking in a silent battle of wills. Eventually, Sarah looked away, under the guise of examining one of the many displays as it relayed damage assessment data. Lasky let himself a brief smirk in satisfaction before continuing. "Even with most of Blue Team leading the charge, the UNSC needs more boots on the ground if we're going to win this thing. Preferably, boots we can trust. That is something in short supply right now. I could count the people I trust in the brig right now on one hand. We are going forward with my plan."

Palmer turned to face him, a brow raised in amusement. "I said it was a stupid idea. I didn't say I wouldn't back you up." Now it was Lasky's turn to look away, grumbling under his breath. A coy smirk was clearly plastered on the Spartan Commander's face when he turned back to her. Maybe a dinner date would be acceptable. After he gets some rest.

"Good. Because you're the one asking." Her smirk did an instant one-eighty, morphing into a deep frown. Belay that. Next time I see him, I am going to put a bullet in his brain, screw the consequences. Sarah stomped off the bridge, her angry footsteps refusing to fade until long after she was gone.


The lift ride down to the brig was more than a little unpleasant. The anger and frustration rolled off her in waves, keeping her shoulders tense and her muscles tight. The other crew members seemed to have a sixth sense about them as they steered clear of the volatile Commander, something Sarah was glad for. She was already angry with the Captain and didn't want to smear the walls with anyone if she could avoid it.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I can't let you in with those." She blinked a few times, pulled from her train of irritable thoughts by the guard's acknowledgement.

"Excuse me?" She meant it as a question, mentally wincing as the man went ramrod straight, his face turning a few shades whiter. He gestured to her combat knife and sidearm, not trusting himself to speak. Resisting the urge to slap herself, she handed the weapons over. It was standard operating procedure to secure all weapons outside the brig in case the visitor was overpowered. Obviously, she would have to talk to the officer in charge about how Tom was able to take his service weapon in. Later. After handing over the required items and logging her visit, she was granted admittance.

Titanium cells lined both sides of the corridor, fluorescent lighting and security systems shedding light on every square inch. There were no shadows here, no place to hide. Schooling her features, she began her short walk to her destination. Every cell had a two-way auditory communication feature built into the data pads that were mounted by each door. With the tap of a button, she could communicate with any cell in this pod. The other prisoners could see her, but their conversation would be safe from prying ears.

Sarah stopped at the farthest cell on the left, her footsteps quieting as her armor settled on the deck. Her mood soured further as she gazed upon the figure beyond the door. Traitor, she thought, a deep frown etching itself upon her face. Channeling some of that toxic emotion, she banged a fist against the door, the impact loud enough to startle the occupant inside. Ignoring the proper procedure, the Commander tapped in the code for the door, waiting impatiently for the locks to disengage. Finally, the heavy bolts sliding seamlessly over well-lubricated housings before settling into place with a weighty kur-chunk. Humanity could travel between star systems in weeks, possibly days, but ship brigs still used deadbolts. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Sarah tossed aside the thought as the door bisected before her with a soft hiss. Not waiting for any confirmation or permission, she stepped inside.

Like all the other cells on this ship, they were sparsely furnished, only containing a cot, toilet, and sink. All of these were bolted and welded to the floor with classified techniques. Nobody wants a Spartan swinging a metal chair at someone's head like a club. The UNSC had a mountain of paperwork already, so adding hundreds of negligent death claims didn't seem like the smartest idea. Sarah took all this in an instant before letting her icy glare settle on the lone occupant.

"If it was up to me, I'd throw you out the nearest airlock." The Commander said coolly. This person had tried to kill her fellow crew members, her family. There was no place for niceties here. The woman sat up straight on the cot, tucking a few locks of auburn hair behind her ear. With half her head shaved and sharp green eyes, the ODST surely lived up to her name.

"If you aren't here to space me, then why are you here?" Green asked, raising a copper brow in confusion.

"Unfortunately," Palmer began through clenched teeth. "The Captain believes that you are one of a select few we can trust, and I use that term loosely, to assist the UNSC in securing our foothold on the ground."

"May I ask where, ma'am?" Sarah's fingers twitched, itching to reach out and strangle the woman before her. Every word this ODST-no, traitor- spoke was just plunging the knife in deeper, twisting all the while. She was seriously considering doing just that.

"Tribute." The Commander said finally. "Your friends in the United Rebel Front have turned an entire city into a free fire zone. Casualties are mounting and civilians are being caught in the crossfire, including children." While those last few words might have sounded cold and callous, Sarah had garnered enough information from Sandra when they brought the woman in. Digging at the ODST's maternal instincts was a cheap shot, but Palmer felt it was the quickest way to get the ball rolling.

Tamara felt her insides roll, churning the contents of her stomach. Images of the saurian girl flowed unbidden into her mind. For all of her physical differences, she was still an innocent young child just exploring the world, albeit under the watchful eyes of her Spartan parents. However, fate had not been kind to the little Sangheili. She had already been exposed to traumatic experiences that often left veterans with nightmares. She couldn't imagine how it could affect someone so young. But not all of them have augmented parents to protect them from the horrors of this galaxy. Parents should never have to bury their children, it's just not right. For so many innocent lives to be extinguished, snuffed out before they could truly enjoy life…unforgivable!

She felt bile rise in her throat as she came to a terrifying conclusion. Oh, god I helped them do this! Not directly, but every moment I went against the UNSC, the URF tore another family apart! How many wives and husbands did I widow? How many children will grow up without a mother or father? Communities set ablaze? Lives ruined? I may have destroyed more in a few days than I helped protect in a decade. What have I done?... Something inside her shifted. Here she was, floating in a void, unsure whether the tether to either faction was real or just a figment of her imagination. I may not be Front material, and I'm sure as hell no longer considered UNSC, but I'm not going to let someone twist their misguided plight for independence into genocide!

Looking up, she met the Spartan's glare with one of her own. Those bastards are going to pay. "Where do you need me?" Palmer could admire the conviction in the woman's eyes, despite still wanting to toss her out the nearest airlock. Digging into the hard case on her thigh, Palmer revealed the handcuffs to the ODST. Tamara let a huff of air out her nose, miffed at why the Commander was implying. The Spartan just raised a brow in question, shaking the cuffs for emphasis. Grumbling something under her breath, Tamara stood up and stuck out her arms. Moving quickly, Palmer encased her wrists in the linked titanium. Since these things were rated for unarmored Spartans, Sarah had little doubt that the redhead would be able to escape. But one could never be too sure.

"Move." Palmer ordered, giving the other woman a light but firm push. The two of them made their way back from whence they came, pausing outside only long enough for the Commander to recollect her gear. Each step Tamara took away from that cell was a step towards freedom, towards redemption. The heavy footsteps of the soldier behind her sounded different, not distorted or warbled to a noticeable degree, but the echoes definitely sounded off. Her feet quickly found the reason why: grenades had detonated in the hallways, warping and twisting the once pristine decks. The lift down was silent, save for the steady hum of Infinity's engines. Perhaps Death was growing lax in his machinations. Or, it was simply due to the fact that the UNSC have some damn fine engineers. Whatever the case, Tamara wasn't about to throw away this chance Captain Lasky was giving her.

The lift slowed to a stop, soundlessly opening its doors to allow its passengers to disembark. As she led the way off the elevator, Tamara could feel every pair of eyes fall upon her, their once vibrant eyes now filled with only distrust and loathing. She had nothing to say, the shackles proved her crimes as clearly as if she still held the smoking rifle herself. Besides, nothing she could say would convince them otherwise. They had made up their minds and Tamara couldn't blame them for it. Nausea swept through her, coating her skin in sweat and churning the contents of her stomach like a thick stew. Tears prickled the edges of her vision, but she refused to let them fall, holding her head up and her gaze straight ahead. Mercifully, the farther they traveled the fewer people the ran in to. It was a good thing too, as only a single Huragok floated past when she lost her lunch a few minutes later.

"Wow." Tamara began in between heaves. "I am either a traitor with the biggest heart or the smallest stomach." She burst out laughing then, her manic guffaws unsettling her Spartan escort. Palmer took a step back, her nose crinkled in disgust, a scowl carved on her face. The laughter died off almost as quickly as it had come, leaving the ODST drained. Leaning forward, Tamara rested her forehead against the cold titanium, auburn locks shielding her pathetic visage from whatever embarrassment possible. "And I don't know which is worse." She finished in a whisper. Thankfully, Palmer stayed quiet, only wrapping a gauntlet around her arm and gently leading her onward.

"Ms. Tammy! Ms. Tammy!" The ODST winced but did not turn around, refusing to face the coming voice. She had faced all sorts of demons on the battlefield, all equally terrifying. But if there was one thing she never learned in drop school, or anywhere else for that matter, was how to deal with angels. Particularly the young, adorable variety. Her heart squeezed painfully as she put one foot in front of the other, doing her best to push the heavy pattering of footsteps out of her mind. Ignore her, soldier. Just focus on your mission. The hangar sign shone like a lighthouse, guiding in a lost ship on a foggy night, despite the worn paint and bullet-riddled wall. Willing her legs to move faster, Tamara broke into a brisk walk, eager to start filling in the impossibly deep hole she had dug herself.

She almost made it. Was this close to getting her shovel, no strings attached. With a startled squeal from Amber, all that went out the window. The dull thud of the young Sangheili hitting the deck hit her like a Gravity Hammer, stopping the woman cold. She rushed over to the child, ignoring the handcuffs as they dug painfully into her wrists. Sandra's warning rang clearly in her mind and she preferred to keep her limbs where they were. Eventually, leathery, grey claws smacked her fussing hands away, golden eyes meeting hers.

"Sorry. I twipped." Amber spoke, embarrassed, scratching the back of her neck. Tamara guessed it was a human trait she picked up from her parents. Which one, however, was anyone's guess.

"Happens to the best of us." She soothed, offering a small smile in support. "Are you alright?"

"Uh huh!" She retorted, nodding rapidly. "But my robe is too big…" She mumbled quietly, picking at the cuff of her sleeve. The ornate robe was ill-fitting, easily meant for someone twice her size. But being on a warship during deployment had its drawbacks: namely, resupplying nonessentials.

"I'm sure your parents will get you something that fits you properly when they can." She replied somewhat unsure. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth as the young Sangheili, looked up at her, golden eyes blinking inquisitively.

"Have you seen Mommy and Mother?" She asked excitedly, looking up and down the hall, expecting them to appear any second. Tamara cleared her throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at the childling.

"No, but I'm sure they'll be back before you know it." The solidarity of her tone was soured by the churning of her stomach and chiding conscious. Great, now you're lying to children. Some moral compass you have, huh? "Besides," She pressed on, eager to switch topics. "Isn't someone supposed to be watching you?"

"Hmph!" The little saurian huffed, leveling the fiercest pout she could manage. Tamara had to admit: even with the scaly skin and hinged mandibles, it was pretty cute. Forcing down a smile, she addressed the stubborn youngling.

"Amber." She warned. To her frustration, Amber ignored her, crossing her arms in a further act of defiance. Palmer cleared her throat, drawing her attention away from those golden eyes for the first time. Honestly, Tamara forgot the Spartan was even there. Standing up, she made to rejoin the Commander, assured the young girl could make her way back on her own.

"Did you do something bad?" Amber asked, nodding at the handcuffs around her wrists. Tamara looked between the two, unsure how to respond. In truth, the question caught her completely off guard "Mommy said they only put those bracelets on people who do bad things."

"Yes, yes I did." She responded after gathering her thoughts for a few moments. "I did some very bad things."

"Then do good things instead!" Amber retorted happily, her mandibles pulled into a Sangheili version of a Human smile. "Mother taught me that if you do bad things, you need to do good things to make up for it!"

"It isn't that simple. I di-"

"Sure it is!" Amber interrupted hotly, stomping a hoof for emphasis. Tamara swatted away the urge to shake her head at this girl's naivety. Though it may carry some merit on principle, she lacks understanding of the complicated, convoluted ways the universe actually functions. Ignorance really is bliss.

Offering a soft smile, she patted the young girl on the head, silently admiring how smooth her leathery skin was. "Go back to whomever you slipped away from. This ship is a safer place than most, but you don't want to give your parents another thing to worry about, do you?" Golden eyes looked away guiltily. Amber gave her legs a solid squeeze before dashing back the way she came. "Walk!" Tamara called after her, a shiver crawling up her spine at the thought of another fall. Mercifully, the young saurian slowed her pace, saving the ODST's heart from any more abnormal palpitations.

The door to the hangar opened with a soft hiss, allowing the duo admittance. They marched towards one of the few remaining Pelicans, each booming step of the Commander's armored boots rumbled through her bones like a drum signaling a sacrifice. One where she was the offering. Hiding her shiver under the guise of loosening her muscles, they approached a squad of ODST's swarming over the squat, olive transport.

"Listen up!" Palmer barked from behind her, gathering the troopers' attention. From the looks on some of their faces, they were not happy to see her in the slightest. Tamara could only hope that their weapons were unloaded. Or at least Palmer didn't hate her enough to stand idly by as they riddled her with bullets. "I assume you have all been briefed." The troopers muttered under their breath, a few electing to glare daggers instead. If looks could kill… "I won't mince words. She will make it groundside. Understood?"

"And what if something… unfortunate were to happen to her on our ride down? Say, for instance, she… fell out of the bird?" One of the troopers sitting on the wing spoke up. Murmurs of agreement broke out, Tamara suddenly felt herself doubting her own safety in Lasky's plan.

"Keep in mind that I will be watching your cams very closely. And if anything… unfortunate, as you say, were to happen to her, I would shove my boot so far up your ass you'd be tasting titanium till the day you die. Am I understood, Marines?!" While not necessarily reassuring, Tamara cracked a sly smile as a few of the ODSTs turned a several shades paler. Satisfied, the Spartan commander spun on her heel and marched out of the hangar.

"Chambers! Duthers! Escort our 'friend' to her seat. She blinks wrong and you take her out, I don't care what the Commander says!" Their CO, an imposing, goliath of a man ordered, practically spitting her name. With his helmet on and visor polarized, Tamara couldn't see his face, but she doubted that she would still be breathing come the new year. A soldier stepped to either side of her, grabbing her forearms in an unyielding grip, practically dragging her into the waiting dropship. They shoved her harshly into her seat, not caring when her head banged against the metal of the troop compartment. She never saw the blow coming. The savage right cross landed squarely between her eye socket and her nose, sending rapid pulses of pain to her brain. Spots dotted her vision as blood began to drip steadily into her lap.

"She looked like she was going for my pistol, didn't she?" He nudged his squad mate, his smug, satisfied tone ringing angrily between her rattled ears. The other soldier nodded, his silent agreement irking her even further. She could feel their eyes boring into her like drills as she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. They hoped she would attack: they wanted her to. And in a way, she couldn't blame them. She would have done the same if she was in their shoes anyway. Eventually, her guards grew bored and went to fetch their own gear as the rest of the unit began filling the cabin. The gangplank closed smoothly, the automated systems pressurizing the compartment as the last Helljumper strapped in. Gingerly, she touched her eye and winced at the biting pain that stormed her skull. Well, her orbital was definitely bruised, possibly even broken. But she would have to just tough it out; there was no other choice. The roar of the engines filled the Pelican, doing nothing to dull the pain radiating in her skull. Nobody on that boat would bat an eye if she ate a bullet. All she needed to do was avoid dying a painful death. Easier said than done, she thought as the metal handcuffs continued to rub the clamped skin raw. She remained silent as the dropship blasted out of the hangar, banking towards the planet below.

Sector 13, Humanity Mall, Tribute

0200 hours

The sun blazed brilliantly in the cloudless blue sky, basking everything it touched in a soft, warm glow. Megan smiled as she wiggled her toes in the velvety, bleached sand, her aquamarine locks flowing like waves in the ocean breeze. She inhaled deeply, the coastal air filling her lungs and the salt of the ocean tickled her nostrils. There were no ships to blot out the star's ever-present light. No vehicles to drown the waves as they lapped eagerly at the sandy shore, not another soul in sight. In fact, besides the rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean and her own breathing, there was not another sound to speak of. This place, this paradise was pristine. Untouched, for however long it had existed. Such exquisite beauty. Nature can indeed create places of unfathomable riches. A familiar shout came from behind, sending a spike of frustration through her. She tensed, angry that anyone would disturb such a gem. It quickly faded as strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her into the air.

"Aagh! Put me down!" She squealed between fits of embarrassed, joyful laughter.

"As you wish, your majesty." Megan landed on the beach with a yelp, her boyfriend's amused smile tugging at the strings of her heart.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there all day like my own personal awning or are you going to join me?" He tapped his chin as if deep in thought.

"I don't know…the view from up here is pretty amazing." And just like that she was drawn into his hazel eyes that held the answers to so many mysteries. The fire to warm her on a cold winter's night. She offered him a wide smile, beckoning him to lie next to her. Every day I'm with him is a blessing. I feel like I could take on the world! Just the two of us, living life one day at a time. Married, couple of adorable children to call our own… She lifted her hand in front of her face, imagining the small metal ring which would one day adorn her finger.

He took his spot next to her, his fingers naturally entwining with hers. "What are you thinking about?" He asked, observing the look of pure content on her face.

"Us." She responded whimsically. "And the future."

"Oh? And what do you see?"

"I see…" The fantasies died on her tongue as a ghastly, nauseating purple smog descended from the heavens, suffocating the pleasant rays of the star above. She could only look on in abject horror as her little paradise was rapidly twisting itself into a complete nightmare. The clouds churned, as if brewing something even more sinister within its amorphous shell. Like the factories of old, it began pumping out black ash, which floated down like a toxic snowfall. Every inhale filled their lungs, blackening them from the inside out. But neither moved, rooted to the spot. Move, girl! Move! Her muscles pleaded for action, directed by the brain's drive to survive. Her lungs cried for clean air. But no matter how desperate she wanted to flee, her body would not comply. Then, things got worse. Much worse.

"Oh my god." He whispered, his eyes transfixed to the sky. Megan clung tightly to his solid frame, nails digging into his skin deep enough to draw blood. Enormous alien starships emerged from the noxious atmosphere, their bulbous design instantly recognizable to them both. Questions raced through her mind with each conclusion more frightening than the last. The Covenant had found her once more. The shore vibrated ferociously as the carriers descended and she had to clench her jaw so she wouldn't bite her own tongue. The temperature, which had been slowly climbing only moments before, suddenly spiked, sending her sweat glands into a frenzy. But a solid column of boiling plasma disintegrated all other thoughts. It was so intense Megan had to turn away and shield her eyes to prevent being blinded. Hot air roared unrelentingly around her, stinging her skin with ash and sand.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach as she lowered her arm. The ventral beam burrowed deep into the sapphire depths, the extreme temperature scarring the earth below. Megan could feel the planet cry out in agony as the plasma slowly glassed its surface, tears escaping from the tear in its waters. It was like conducting brain surgery with a chainsaw. Fear crawled up her spine, prickling every nerve but doing little to stir her muscles into action. The beam dimmed as the output leveled out, allowing Megan to get a good look at the instrument of unfathomable destruction. With a sense of morbid fascination, she watched as the red spire of gas crawled forward, leaving towering plumes of steam in its wake.

It was at this point that Kevin snapped out of his daze, and leapt to his feet. The coldness left by his absence was quickly saturated with blistering heat, leaving her warm once more. Just like the fires dad used to make in the backyard, she thought wistfully. Kevin was pulling her arm, yelling at her to get up, get away. Get away? Where? There is nowhere to go. Eventually the tugging stopped, and even over the howling winds and harsh whine of plasma, she heard the sounds of someone beating a quick retreat. Her throat tightened, desperate to block out the air that only seemed to cause her pain. She choked down gasps of gritty air, wincing as it ground against her trachea. Why would he leave me here, alone? I thought we would face everything together as a team? Megan doubled over as her stomach clenched painfully, eager to abuse her already battered body.

"You are not alone." The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, projecting strength, confidence and conviction. Its strength breathed life back into her body, rejuvenating her muscles and energizing her bones. Its unwavering confidence was a towering waterfall, filling her soul with courage. And its conviction was like a monument that stood for millennia, refusing to submit to the passing of time, filled her eyes with hope. But she wasn't entirely convinced.

"Please," She whispered through parched lips. "I need him." The beam was closing in and she was running out of time.

"No, you do not. You are strong." Megan whipped her head around, startled at the sudden closeness of the voice. The shadowy, hulking figure stood beside her, completely statuesque, despite the onslaught of intense winds and blistering heat. Time passed, the duo watched silently as the Covenant continued to cut angry swaths through the paradise she had come to enjoy. But there is a certain beauty in destruction, Megan mused, watching the reds and purples arc and swirl around each other.

"There is." Megan elected to remain silent, observing the weapon the figure clutched in its arms. The shadow shifted, as if sensing Megan's intentions, letting the rifle hang loosely in one hand.

"Do you really believe I am strong?" She asked, having to yell over the thrum of the plasma beams turning the beach into glass.

"Strength can manifest itself in many different ways. Some can move a mountain with their bare hands while others can lead others to enact their will. It isn't stagnant nor is it comprised of only a single facet. Like the tides, it ebbs and fades due to an immeasurable multitude of factors. One can find themselves growing stronger with each passing day or have it fail them when they needed it most." The nebulous soldier turned to fully face her and Megan averted her eyes under its intense presence. "Do not shy away, for your true strength lies within. You are the eye of the storm; calm and collected when chaos encircles you. Many have tried to break you, in both mind and body, to surrender to their whims. They cannot. Your will is an aegis, unfaltering and resolute. Your enemies may bend it, crack it, but can never break it." Jagged, crystalline shards jutted out like spires among the polished obsidian surface, glowing bright white in the wake of the Covenant assault. Megan tore her eyes away from the charred surface as the figure rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. Despite the heat the threatened to peel the skin from her bones, it was oddly cool. "Do not lose faith in your ability to fight."

"But I don't even know how to fire a gun." The shadow gave a deep chuckle, shaking its head.

"Not all fights are won through force." In the blink of an eye the soldier was gone, its essence thrown into the glowing sky by the howling winds. Megan would have believed it was a hallucination if not for the patch on her shoulder that remained cool as the rest of her skin began to blister and burn. Am I really a fighter? She mused in the final seconds before the Covenant ventral beam incinerated her body in its quest to turn yet another paradise into a smoldering char pit.

Megan woke with a start, a blood-curdling scream ripping itself from her throat without warning. Kevin, who had been nestled next to her during their rest, reeled away from the sudden noise to land painfully on the polycrete floor. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as she looked frantically around the room with wild, unfocused eyes. Sometime during her nightmare she had broken into a cold sweat, combine that with the cool night temperatures and lack of clothing, and you had a recipe for hypothermia. She could feel her muscles contract uncontrollably and her teeth began to chatter. Kevin pulled himself from the floor, resting a hand on her arm. She flinched away when his hands only seemed to chill her body further, ignorant of the dejection that lingered on his face.

Eventually, an older gentleman took pity on the young man's plight and brought him a blanket. Kevin offered him only a small, hesitant smile as payment. He wrapped the thick blanket around her small frame tucking it under her to keep as much heat inside as possible. Spooning her once more, he did his best to ignore her constant shakes and occasional elbow to the ribs. Too bad he couldn't shelter her from the lecherous stares that seemed to follow his aqua haired girlfriend like a beast stalking its prey.

"K-K-K-Kevin? Are y-y-you there, b-baby?" She asked weakly through chattering teeth. Her eyelids felt heavy, it took all her focus just to keep them open. She tugged the blanket closer to her body, desperate for warmth.

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." He said softly, hugging her close, rubbing gentle circles on her back. She leaned further into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. The shadow's words echoed in her head: Not all fights are won through force. The heck did that mean? She wasn't a soldier. Guns made her uncomfortable. As a teacher, she had made it her goal to enrich people's lives. How many lives had been lost during the war with the Covenant? Ten billion? A hundred? The mere thought made her stomach do flips. But that was for survival. This… She cast her eyes over the other refugees, huddled together in the corners for warmth. She could see the emotions play across their faces. Sadness. Anger. Fear. She felt it too. But were they supposed to do against soldiers with guns? She didn't want to think about what would happen if they tried. She felt hopeless, completely out of her comfort zone. Her stomach twisted into knots as tears prickled the corners of her eyes. If I'm so brave, why do I need saving? Maybe I could buy a guardian angel. She gave a mirthless chuckle that was lost in the cold of the night. High above, hidden in the black of night, Megan's guardian angel readied her holy weapon.

The first brass spear smashed through the relative quiet like a runaway freight train, the sharp crack of the rifle startling the teaching couple. A few of the more inexperienced guards glanced at each other, confused, but didn't move away from their window perch. A fatal mistake. Megan watched as one soldier, no older than nineteen, was thrown from his seat as if he had been hit in the back by a brute. His body slid noiselessly across the floor, a pooling trail of crimson in his wake. One heartbeat. A collective silence descended over the atrium. Two heartbeats. No one dared to breathe, fearing they could be next. Three heartbeats. A scream cut through the winter night, shattering whatever established peace had existed seconds before. People ran in every direction, scrambling behind whatever scrap of cover they could. Three more shots. Three more bodies. Then all hell broke loose.

Come Back Next Time!

Hope you all liked this chapter! Hopefully, it won't take me another three months to get the next one out. But don't hold your breath, you'll probably pass out. If you like it, leave a favorite follow and review! See you next time Halo fans!