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Classified Shuttle Landing Pad

Reach

Doctor Katherine Halsey's POV

Be it ever so humble…! she thought as the shuttle she'd been riding in from orbit finally touched down.

True, she never really considered Reach to be home but it was where she was most needed and where her current Program was based. For a little over two months, though, she had been on Earth attending meetings with the upper echelon of O.N.I. brass discussing the SPARTAN II Program and its future. It had been a tiresome eight weeks, with every little detail being examined in far too much detail, making her wonder why this couldn't have been done over encrypted communications channels. Even though she'd wanted to be present for the funeral of the deceased subjects, she knew why she hadn't been there. Due to the nature of the Program and the fact that the Insurrectionists had been showing greater and greater evidence of advanced technology, it was felt that it'd be too risky to discuss O.N.I.'s solution to the problem via conference call. If the 'Innies', as many of the O.N.I. members she spoke to called the rebel factions, caught wind of her Program, it would deprive them of the element of surprise. That was something her superiors seemed to very much want to avoid.

Judging from the expressions on some of their faces, she wouldn't be surprised if they insisted later on that cameras be installed on her Mjolnir armor so they could see the looks of shock and fear on their enemies' faces.

Nevertheless she had done her job and briefed them on all relevant facts concerning the subjects, their training and what information she'd been able to gather about their recovery from their augmentations prior to leaving Reach. The deaths, the subjects who'd survived the upgrades but could not continue alongside the others, she felt the weight of every last one of them despite her efforts to remain emotionally detached. In front of O.N.I.'s movers and shakers, though, she kept herself looking as professional and sometimes as cold as she needed to be to prevent them from using her guilt as a reason to assign someone new to replace her.

That didn't stop one man from pointing out how… disappointing… it was that so few of the subjects survived the augmentation process. The man went on to point out how inefficient it would be to continue with the Program if half the recruits they conscripted would wind up dead or disabled. She, of course, had defended her Program, stating that the possibility of fatalities during the augmentation process had been made clear at the very beginning. She also pointed out that now that they had real time data on how the bodies of the subjects reacted to the procedures, they could make adjustments that in her mind would aid in the reduction of future fatalities. The man had pounced on the word 'reduction' and voiced how it wasn't as good as 'elimination', sounding impatient for the whole Program to be perfected. Fortunately the man slipped up when things delved into scientific specifics, allowing her to convey in laymen terms how science could not be rushed and that doing so could set things back more than if they were allowed to proceed at their own pace.

She only learned from one of her O.N.I. supporters after that particular meeting that the man who'd opposed her but that she did not know was one Colonel James Ackerson. Apparently he'd been both recently promoted and assigned to several important positions within the Office of Naval Intelligence, with quite a bit of ambition under the proverbial hood. Scuttlebutt was that his short term goal was to get appointed to the UNSC Security Committee, placing the man in a position to help run the UNSC Defense Force. If the man succeeded it would give him greater authority over her SPARTANs as well as her for as long as she chose to remain with the Program she created. After the discussion she'd reviewed how Ackerson had behaved in order to ascertain his threat potential and what if any action she should take to negate his efforts.

Fortunately his lack of scientific acumen made him easy to outmaneuver on that front but the man had shown some skill at twisting the facts to make others see his point of view. She'd done what she could in every meeting onward to correct his 'errors' and discredit his efforts at manipulation but in the end all she'd done was keep the majority from jumping the fence. By the time the last meeting was over, the majority of the group assembled to grill her on the progress of the SPARTAN II Program had decided to wait and see. They'd conveyed indirectly that they would delay their decision about the Program's future until they saw her subjects in the field on a mission. That, in fact, was why she'd be asking Chief Mendez to update her on her SPARTANS' acclimation to their augmentations. She needed to know which of them were closest to being ready for official field work because, according to O.N.I., there was already a potential mission ready for activation.

Getting out of the shuttle, she was pleased to see the man she needed to speak to waiting for her in an unarmed Warthog, since it would save time in the long run.

"So how was Earth?" Mendez asked from his position in the driver's seat.

"Same as it was the last time I was there," she replied as she got into the passenger seat before the vehicle's engine started.

"That bad huh?" he said, implying that he'd had his own sour encounters with the O.N.I. brass in the past.

"They're on the fence for the most part," she explained as they drove along the road but not toward the barracks or training grounds. "They want to see how our SPARTANs do on a real mission before they make any decisions. How many of them are ready for deployment?"

"Funny you should ask that," he replied as they left the base itself and went off in a specific direction. "As you probably know Reach was first colonized for its rich titanium deposits. There are mines in these mountains thousands of meters deep and currently the UNSC uses them for storage."

"I presume you do not have my SPARTANs taking inventory today, Chief?" she asked, making it clear she would be quite annoyed if that were indeed the case.

"No, ma'am. We just needed the privacy," he replied as they reached the entrance to one of the mine tunnels and drove in.

As they drove deeper and deeper into the mine, she had to wonder why privacy would be required at this juncture. She knew for a fact that regular perimeter patrols were done at the base that the subjects had been trained at and no one on the base had been assigned there without a thorough background check that went beyond paranoid. While it was true that not every person was cleared to know the same amount of information about the Program, it was unlikely that they'd be able to leak anything to unauthorized parties.

"Do you remember the Navy's first experiments with powered exoskeletons?" Mendez asked out of the blue.

"I'm not sure I see the connection between this place, my SPARTANs and the exoskeleton projects, but I'll play along a bit further," she replied as they reached the end of their descent. "Yes, I know all about the Mark I prototypes. We had to scrap the concept and redesign battle armor from the ground up for the MJOLNIR project. The Mark Is consumed enormous energy. Either they had to be plugged into a generator or use inefficient broadcast power. Neither of which is practical on a battlefield."

Mendez said nothing after pulling into a parking spot before getting out and waiting for her to do the same.

"They used the units that weren't scrapped as dock loaders to move heavy equipment," she said before her mind caught on a possibility. "Or might they have been dumped in a place like this?"

"There are dozens of suits here," Mendez said before leading her further into the storage facility.

"You haven't put MY SPARTANs in some of those antiques?" she asked, her mind already full of ways it'd negatively impact their training if this had been done.

"No. Their trainers are using them for their own safety," he replied as vaguely humanoid objects entered her field of vision. "When the SPARTANs recovered from microgravity therapy they were eager to get back to their routine. However we experienced some… difficulties. Their first day back three of my trainers were accidentally killed during hand-to-hand combat exercises."

"Then they are faster and stronger than we anticipated?" she asked with a raised eyebrow of interest.

While she had designed and recommended the augmentations, she had not been able to definitively establish where the upper limits of their abilities would be. It would certainly be well above what an ordinary soldier would be capable of but just how far above had been vague at best.

"That would be understating the situation," Mendez replied as they arrived at the humanoid objects revealed now to be damaged Mark I exoskeletons. "After the three trainers were killed I immediately tried to gauge their abilities through the use of inanimate objects and any testing machines I could get a hold of. The results made it clear that having any more trainers spar with them like normal would be pointless, so I acquired some Mark Is and had the trainers put them on for hand-to-hand combat training. This is the result."

Looking at the suit hanging from thick chains, she began to examine it with an analytical eye as she took in the numerous signs of damage. Shattered visor, numerous dents the size of feet or fists, scuff marks that suggested skidding along concrete for a few seconds and tears that made her think that one of the subjects had been trying to pry the exoskeleton off the trainer. Give her knowledge of the Mark Is design specs, what she was seeing did strongly support the position that her SPARTANs had indeed become significantly more powerful than she'd originally projected.

"You made some modifications," the said as she found a few deviations from the original designs.

"At squad leader one-one-seven's request," Mendez explained as she continued to catalogue the modifications. "He felt his squad and the other SPARTANs weren't be challenged enough."

"Not challenged?!" she exclaimed in surprise at the statement that she knew was not an exaggeration since John was always precise with his assessment of a situation.

"Would you like to see your SPARTANs in action?" Mendez asked, looking as though he anticipated quite the reaction out of her.

"Yes, please," she replied, with it being clear he need not have asked her in the first place.

With that he led her deeper into the mine until they reached a large cavern outfitted to be along the same vein as the obstacle courses and environment simulations topside. Lights were scattered on the walls, overhead a hundred meters up on the ceiling as well as on the floor, but they did little to rid the training ground of the darkness scattered about.

"This way, please," Mendez said, gesturing to a small structure to the side.

Inside was an array of monitors displaying images from various angles of the mock battlefield, with a few labeled 'motion', 'infrared', 'doppler' and 'radar'. It came as something of a surprise to her when, with the push of a button, the sensation of being lifted off the ground came over her, making her realize that the structure had elevation capabilities. It didn't last long, only until the structure was twenty meters above ground, but it was then that a panel above the monitors slid aside to reveal a window from which she could see the entire training environment.

"Lights," Mendez said into a microphone, causing the ones she hadn't seen earlier to light up.

What she saw made her wonder just what the man had been asking her SPARTANs to do. In the center of the training area stood a concrete bunker and atop it stood three men in the Mark I power armor, weapons at the ready. Six more stood evenly spaced around the perimeter to protect the red banner that was planted in the middle of the first three trainers.

It was clear what form this exercise was going to take.

"Capture the flag?" she asked, giving away nothing of her opinion. "Past all of that heavy armor?"

"Yes. The trainers in those exoskeletons can run at thirty-two kph, lift two tons and have a thirty-millimeter minigun mounted on self-targeting armatures. Naturally they're using stun rounds but they're also equipped with the latest motion sensors and IR scopes," Mendez replied as the men in question prepared for an assault. "Needless to say their armor is impervious to standard light weapons. It would take two or three platoons of conventional Marines to take that bunker."

Indeed, given those statistics, conventional forces would be hard pressed to overcome them and seize the enemy bunker. However based on what had and had not been said by Mendez, she got the impression that even the Mark Is were not enough to give her SPARTANs trouble.

"Start the drill." Mendez said into the microphone.

Thus she waited, making sure to keep an eye on all the cameras while glancing out the window to see what could be seen from her present vantage point. Sixty seconds went by without any sign of her creations and at one hundred and twenty seconds she could keep silent no longer.

"Where are the SPARTANs?" she asked while not turning away from the monitors or the window.

"They're already here," Mendez replied, not elaborating one bit.

It was then that she caught a glimpse of a motion in the dark, a shadow against shadows, and a familiar silhouette.

"Kelly?" she asked, momentarily forgetting to call the young woman by her number.

"Unit four to all units," came the voice of one of the trainers. "Got one right here! Kelly. The fast one."

The man was not exaggerating as the young woman was proving to be capable of moving quicker than the armored soldier could keep up with, even in the Mark I. While she couldn't see everything clearly, what she could see definitely indicated that zero-eight-seven was indeed much quicker than her research had initially projected they'd be after receiving their augmentations.

"She's moving fast, heading seven-niner-" the trainer said before being abruptly cut off by one of Kelly's feet suddenly finding its way to his armored chest.

Incredible, she thought since her eyes had barely registered the transition between flight and attack.

Reinforcements for the downed trainer arrived shortly but from above so did some for Kelly. From above a man free-rappelled down from the girders and gantries and soon the newcomer landed behind one of the newly arrived guards, making not a sound according to the camera microphones. Two punches to the trainer's armor, hard enough to dent the heavy metal plates, then a sweep to the lower legs and another adversary was down on the ground. A moment later, though, the new arrival did something she hadn't been expecting by attaching his rappelling line to the defeated trainer. A moment later the recovering soldier shot up into the darkness with a yelp of surprise, causing those reinforcements that hadn't been looking in his direction to turn their heads. They opened fire on the surprise arrival but she soon realize that this was a mistake as two forms came down from above, obviously having used the tied up trainer as a counterweight.

Dropping down from what must have been a rather lengthy rope the latest two SPARTANs landed behind the ones that had brought their weapons to bear on the first surprise arrival. With just as much ease they dispatched the two trainers before melting into the shadows, leaving the remaining five trainers to regroup around the flag.

It didn't help them.

One by one they were picked off by the four SPARTANs in the room until there were only two left, both of whom had decided to go back to back in order to prevent any more sneak attacks. All this did was made them an easier target; with incredible speed a single SPARTAN snuck past the pan field of vision each trainer had to close to within striking distance. A series of quick slashes later and one of the guard's exosuit erupted in a fountain of hydraulic fluid before the man collapsed under his armor's weight.

When the last guard turned to deal the with sole visible SPARTAN she exclaimed, "He's at point blank range! Even stun rounds can kill at that distance!"

Mendez, however, remained unconcerned and she soon found out why.

With reflexes and speed that even after what she'd seen she hadn't been expecting, the SPARTAN sidestepped the shots, making them clearly miss. With equally quick movement the weapon was grabbed and then twisted, causing the screech of stressed metal to fill the air as it was torn to pieces. Then, with a simple palm strike, the last of the trainers was knocked clear of the flag's location, allowing the SPARTAN to pull it out of the ground, thus completing the exercise.

She could safely say she was both astonished as well as impressed as she watched the other three SPARTANs emerge from the shadows unscathed and looking like they could do it all over again easily.

"I've seen enough," she said, having come to a decision about what to do next. "Have one-one-seven pick a squad of his best. Five or six at most."

"Ma'am? For what purpose, if I may ask?" Mendez said, sounding curious about her request.

"I need them out of this hole and combat ready by oh-four-hundred," she explained as she used the information she had to construct likely scenarios. "The time for playing games is over."

"They're as ready for that as I can make them," Mendez said, not showing approval or disapproval at the turn of events. "Though there is one thing I think you should see."

Curious about what else Chief Mendez had to show her, she watched as he operated the console below the monitors, no doubt calling up the footage he wanted her to see. It didn't take long and after a brief countdown she was once more shown the mock environment but this time instead of the trainers defending the flag, it was SPARTANs. Joyce-zero-seven-zero, Alex-zero-six-nine and Daisy-zero-two-three were arrayed around the flag, with all three of them ready to act. They were armed with XBR55 Battle Rifles, with stun rounds only most likely, and it didn't take long before the fighting started as the trainers, marines that had been selected for the Program, began their assault to take the flag.

Not surprisingly the efforts by the wearers of the Mark I were quickly brought to a complete stop as her SPARTANs fired their weapons with expert precision and solid tactics. As the fighting continued, though, she noticed that Daisy's fighting was… off… somehow. For the past eight years she had diligently reviewed the physical and mental training of the subjects, either with Déjà or Chief Mendez. As such she'd been able to see them grow as fighters and gain an understanding of their individual fighting styles. While it was true that they'd had the same trainers and been put through the same exercises, they were still individuals with minds of their own. It was those individual minds that determined how they'd use the teachings in any given situation. As such she could tell that Daisy seemed… distracted during the fight, but her thorough training ensured that her body knew how to react even if her mind was slow to register her surroundings.

It looks like the curtain might be rising sooner than expected, she thought as she recalled a concern Mendez had voiced during their meetings prior to the augmentation procedures.

While most of the SPARTAN subjects had eventually resigned themselves to their assigned purpose and others had embraced it from the beginning, she'd anticipated from the beginning that there'd be malcontents sooner or later. Jai and Adriana had made numerous escape attempts, with some coming very close to succeeding, but her talk with the young man had proven enough to quell his desire to leave. However neither she nor Mendez believed the attempts to flee would end there. As the difficulty of the training increased over the years, both of them had been confident that those with the weakest resolve would begin to consider such thoughts as well. If any of those survived the augmentation procedure, they'd both known that it could lead to resolve strong enough to cause a few to break free.

Daisy-zero-two-three had been among those they'd suspected might gain enough confidence and motivation to make an escape attempt.

The combination of the unforgiving training of the last eight years added onto the trauma of the augmentation phase would be enough to make any young mind desire to run away from it. However the last time she'd checked in Mendez hadn't found any evidence to support the idea that the young woman was planning to escape. No missing supplies, no map of the surrounding area or any suspicious goings on either at the landing pad or the Warthog garage. However, after seeing the previous exercise and watching the one before her, it was evident that she would have to have base security intensify their searches for 'contraband' and 'espionage'. With the Program at the current stage, she couldn't risk living evidence escaping her grasp under any circumstances. The higher ups at O.N.I. had made it clear from the beginning that the SPARTANs would be a black ops strike force with every measure to be taken to keep knowledge of them from falling into unauthorized hands. Unauthorized, of course, meant civilians as well as members of the UNSC that had not been approved by the O.N.I. brass to know about the Program.

She harbored no illusions about the ethics of what she'd done or what she'd be asking the subjects to do. She knew that if such an unscientific thing as heaven actually existed, she would likely never go there for what she'd done, instead heading to the other place. Indeed she was pretty sure that anyone who worked for O.N.I. for more than a year would wind up there when they died, so at least she'd be in familiar company. Nevertheless, she had no interest in being placed on trial for doing what needed to be done, regardless of the ethical elements involved. They lived in a world of greys, not black and white, leaving it up to each individual to choose just how far towards the darker shades they wanted to go.

She'd decided a long time ago to go as close to the darker shades as required in order to achieve her objectives, even if it meant becoming something of a pariah to the rest of the human race.

Turning her attention back to the recorded session, she was just in time to see the final three trainers employing a more thoughtful strategy rather than simply a frontal assault. Instead of meeting her SPARTANs head on, they were instead trying to create a blind spot so one of their numbers could successfully land a hit. They did this by unleashing a barrage of fire that would command the complete attention of the subjects while another circled around to the other side in order to strike. It wasn't a poor strategy, even taking into consideration the augmentations, but it relied heavily on her subjects remaining clueless to the truth of the tactic for as long as possible.

That bought the trainer a minute at best.

It would take most of that time for the man to circle around without drawing attention to himself, leaving less than twenty seconds to take aim before firing. Not an impossible task and one that could be within the reach of one handpicked to train her SPARTANs could very well pull off. It was halfway through, though, before the single armor clad instructor had finished circling his target, when something happened in the recording that did not match how she'd expected things to unfold. With almost no pause in his efforts Alex-zero-six-nine shifted his aim a full one hundred degrees to the left and fired, catching the sneaking instructor the moment the man was in between the cover provided by the fake buildings. All shots hit dead center, causing the man to fall to the ground as his armor locked up, simulating a successful fatal strike. After becoming satisfied that the target was down, zero-six-nine resumed his previous position, adding his firepower to that of his teammates to deal with the remaining two instructors.

To the duo's credit they didn't stop fighting after their best shot at winning went down in flames but that only delayed their defeat rather than prevent it.

However, even though she paid some attention to the recording, the majority of her thoughts were focused on replaying Alex's actions to defeat the best hope of the instructors opposing him.

"Has their sense of hearing improved along with their eyesight?" she asked, believing that it was a possibility given that Alex hadn't been looking in the direction of the sneaking man before turning to fire.

It was also possible that one of the two laying down suppression fire looked in the direction of his comrade, tipping Alex off as to what was going on.

"Not significantly. After watching the exercise I immediately put the team through a series of tests specifically designed to test the range and acuteness of their sense of hearing," Mendez replied after turning off the monitors and triggering the structure's descent. "While they scored well in determining the direction the source of the sound was coming from, the range of how far away the footsteps could be heard didn't appreciably change. When added to the sound of gunfire, I don't see how he could've heard the man circling around."

"If he didn't hear the instructor moving or see him then how did he know where the man was or even when to turn and fire?" she asked, pointing out the key question given the current facts.

"I asked him the same question in private afterwards and his answer was that he 'felt' something was off and followed that feeling to the instructor in time to fire," he replied, sounding a little skeptical of the explanation. "I pressed him for a while for specifics but didn't get much out of him, so I decided to let the topic rest until you got back."

"Any theories?" she asked, appreciating that the man had been so considerate.

"Nothing concrete. At best nothing more than a few rumors me and a few friends tossed about between missions years ago," he replied shrugging with a expressionless face.

"Oh? And what rumors were those?" she asked, idly curious about what rumors Mendez had once thought worth talking about.

"The usual: O.N.I. collecting anyone and everyone that hinted at possessing psychic potential and trying to turn them into a black ops unit," he replied, sounding like he found the whole idea ridiculous now. "McCoy even had a list of deaths he said were proof that the rumors were true."

Outwardly she rolled her eyes as she'd be expected to in response to such a rumor but internally she reviewed what she'd seen with the possibility of psychic abilities. It certainly would explain how Alex had been able to 'feel' the presence of the sneaking instructor, as well as time his shot to match the precise moment when his target was exposed. However in all the years she'd worked with O.N.I. and in all the files she'd read after acquiring the necessary clearance, she'd never once come across even circumstantial proof that such abilities actually existed. It was true that if such things were possible for the human race, the Office of Naval Intelligence would definitely be interested in utilizing such people for their activities, but she was confident that she'd know if such people existed.

Still, despite her best efforts, she could come up with no other satisfactory explanation for Alex's actions and so she decided she'd examine the anomaly further.

"Schedule a solo training session for zero-six-nine tomorrow afternoon here," she ordered, her mind formulating a battery of tests. "Have the instructors prepare themselves for stealth movement and appropriate protection for multiple direct hits with stun rounds. I'll supervise the session myself."

A nod was all she got from Chief Mendez and it was enough. After spending eight years with each other, they'd come to understand how the other worked and how the other reacted under certain situations. She knew he knew that she wanted to quantify this strange new development and the only way to do that was to test the hell out of it until they gathered all the necessary information.

She had a feeling that this could very well be just the tip of the iceberg.

A Few Days Later

Underground Training Room

Alex-069's POV

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Exercise over," Doctor Halsey said via the training floor's speaker system. "You can remove the blindfold, zero-six-nine."

Obeying the order he reached up with one hand and pulled off the blindfold he'd been wearing for the exercise. For the last few days Halsey had been putting him through a series of exercises with the intent of determining the limits and versatility of his new ability. She hadn't said anything about what she thought it was but he understood the need to fully understand it. Looking, he was satisfied in seeing that he'd successfully hit all three trainers with the stun rounds from his M6D magnum sidearm. While he hadn't hit precisely where he'd wanted to, if this had been a real life situation he still would've injured the targets enough to eliminate their threat to him or his team. He was confident that with more practice he'd be able to hit with more precision on a consistent basis.

Holstering his sidearm, he waited for the Doctor to approach and give him her formal evaluation of his performance, but as he waited he considered his current situation.

While he had not been overly chatty about it, he had discussed his new ability with Joy to get her take on it and confirm that she in fact didn't have it as well. From what they'd been able to determine in their discussions he was apparently the only SPARTAN II that could sense the emotions of others. This was odd and made him wonder why he was the anomaly out of the entire group. Had something gone wrong during the augmentation procedures? Was it some sort of freak mutation? Whatever the case, they'd both decided that it was an ability that could prove itself invaluable on missions so he'd immediately done what he could to master it. He wasn't a scientist, though, so his made up experiments hadn't been very precise but they had given him an edge on knowing when an attack was coming based on the 'feelings' coming from the one about to attack. Add to that a general area of where the hostile was located and he'd been able to neutralize several of the trainers attempting to outmaneuver his team using stealth.

It wasn't until Doctor Halsey got involved, though, that the experiments had gained more structure with a clearly defined objective.

At the moment he felt he had a good grasp of his ability and its uses, so it would only require a little more work to incorporate it into the tactics Chief Mendez had taught him.

Another thing he needed to deal with, though, was Daisy and he wasn't looking forward to forcing that confrontation. Ever since he'd first realized that he possessed the ability to sense the emotions of others he'd been acutely aware of the ones bubbling inside of Daisy. The girl had always had an aura of discontent about her that spiked during their physical training sessions, but he'd made himself believe that it'd go away once she got used to it all. After all, he didn't like getting kicked around by the trainers in the beginning or how hard Mendez pushed them during their exercises, but as his body got used to the level of exertion his dislike decreased daily. For her, though, it was like every exercise and every lesson only served to remind her of what had been stolen from her. Every lesson in hand-to-hand combat caused her to think 'I would not have had to learn this back home with my family' and every class with Déjà sparked the thought 'I should not be learning this until I'm in high school almost a decade from now'.

In the end it all came down to one word: choice.

The trainers and Déjà never really let them choose to give up or to walk away from what they were trying to teach. If you tried to do so you were punished until you gave in and learned what they wanted you to learn like the rest of them. When a few of them had declared that they wanted to return home to their mom and dad, they were told that that was impossible. No real stories were cooked up and always they were told that they were needed in order to protect Earth and all of the associated colonies. He and Joy had planned quite a few escape plans of their own but in the end had never enacted even one of them.

Why?

Because if they were being told the truth then their friends, the sisters and Reverend Mommy were in danger. If they were in danger then they needed to get stronger so that they could protect the people they cared about and this Program was the best place to get strong. When he'd learned last year of the fate of the luxury liner 'National Holiday' above Reach, though, he finally had a name as well as an emblem to put to the threat to those he cared for.

They were called Insurrectionists and chose a scarlet clenched fist as their symbol.

From there he had done his best to convince the others that they were needed not as just another person in the crowd but as the superhuman soldiers the SPARTAN II Program was turning them into. According to the information Joy had managed to acquire through both open and covert methods, the insurrection had been going on for three decades straight. If regular humans, be they marines or ODST, couldn't bring the fight to an end during that amount of time, then clearly something MORE was needed. Either a new piece of tech, a better weapon or a new breed of soldier capable of surpassing even the ODST elite.

That pretty much sounded like the SPARTAN II Program to him.

Most of the others who'd had doubts had listened to him and agreed that they were where they needed to be but some had still worn looks of disagreement and discontent.

Daisy had been one of them.

He had tried several times to get her to open up but all she'd done was state that he'd made it clear where his loyalties were and that they had nothing else to talk about. After the last time they'd spoken he'd decided to give her a few days to cool off while he attempted to devise an alternate means of resolving her issues.

Halsey's tests, however, hadn't left him much time to think about his plans, so he'd likely need a few more days before taking action.

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching, he looked towards it to see Doctor Halsey approaching with a COM pad in hand. She appeared to be rather pleased and the emotions he could sense from her confirmed this, so he took it to mean that she had good news to share.

"Good news, ma'am?" he asked, looking for verbal confirmation.

"Indeed it is, zero-six-nine," Halsey replied as she brought her COM pad up to look at. "I can now say unequivocally that you are the first recorded human empath in history. The tests and the results make this undeniable."

"What exactly does it mean to be an empath?" he asked, wanting further clarification of his new ability.

"Well, there are a variety of sources, mostly from popular fiction over the last six centuries, but the basic definition is that an empath is a person capable of sensing the emotions of other life forms," she replied, taking on a more professorial tone. "In some cases a person with this ability can also replicate the emotions, moods and temperaments of others, making them feel whatever they want. Some supposedly could even detect emotional imprints left on an environment by another person, such as being able to sense fear coming from an empty street as plainly as they could see the street itself. While we haven't tested for these other abilities, we have confirmed your ability to sense emotions and accurately determine their point of origin from a considerable distance."

"Do you think I will gain further new abilities in the future?" he asked, wanting to know what to expect so that he could plan for it.

"Difficult to say," the replied while working on her COM pad. "In all of recorded human history there has been no one with mental abilities that could be proven, so we really have no precedent to work with. However, just as you are like to get stronger, faster and smarter as time passes due to the fact that your body is still growing, I would hazard a guess to say it is possible."

A prospect that was both interesting and intimidating.

He could already see how his current empathic ability could help him in the field and, if he did indeed acquire more abilities as time went on, then he would be able to do more to accomplish the mission as well as protect his team. What intimidated him, though, was that he was entering uncharted waters with these developments, with no idea about how it would all turn out. Would they emerge at a rate he could handle or would one of them just burst forth without any warning? If the latter turned out to be the case, then it could be quite dangerous for him to go on any mission given the potential for mental disorientation. If the former turned out to be how things occurred, then he would have to be mindful of his mind's development and decline mission assignments for medical reasons.

"I hope that I can count on your support if your guess turns out to be correct, Doctor Halsey," he said formally as he looked to the woman responsible for making him who he was today.

"It would be my pleasure, Alex," Halsey said with emotions that confirmed that she was quite interested in helping him develop his mental abilities.

While still somewhat intimidating, the concern was lessened knowing that he would have one of the most brilliant, if not THE most brilliant, scientist in the UNSC backing him up.

An Office on a Secret Base on Reach

Doctor Katherine Halsey's POV

She'd forgotten how invigorating entering into a new field of study could be.

While there was the occasional surprise when investigating her own fields of expertise, they were temporary since they were often just an unexpected footnote rather than a new chapter or book. This? This was completely unknown, even if it had been speculated upon by popular fiction over the centuries. To be the first scientist to both witness and study the phenomena had her mind abuzz with future experiments and scans as it thought up ways to map out the precise nature of the ability along with its limitations. Fortunately most of the hardware she'd need to do so was already located on base or could be accessed elsewhere without drawing too much unwanted attention from her 'rivals' in O.N.I. After all, the SPARTAN IIs were also uncharted territory to a degree since there'd never been super soldiers of their sort before, so she could simply tell those who asked that she was doing follow up scans to ensure there were no unforeseen complications. She'd have to keep the type of scans and tests within the vein of the enhancements to the brains of the subjects but she believed that would be informative enough. Empathy would only naturally have a corresponding manifestation in Alex's brain and that could easily be picked up with scans meant to verify increased reflexes, intelligence and memory.

After that, though, she would have to rely on the times that Alex returned to Reach between missions to ascertain the progress of his new 'gift' and determine if any others had manifested. She had told him the truth when she said that she believed it was possible other abilities, like telepathy, perhaps, might manifest as his body continued to mature. She knew that his current power was likely the result of one of the black box genes she'd detected becoming active but she doubted that ALL of them were responsible for it. It was far more likely that a handful, at most, were responsible and that meant the remainder might give rise to another ability down the road. She just hoped that when the new ability or abilities emerged that the event didn't happen during a mission, since, depending on the nature of the manifestation, it could put Alex in mortal danger.

If that turns out to be the case then the best course of action would be to ensure his teammates are skilled enough to adapt to his incapacitation and protect him, she thought as her mind went down another avenue. Joyce-zero-seven-zero would be adequate enough with her long range marksmanship to pick off her Insurrectionist counterparts. Daisy would also be suitable, given her skill with assault tactics and weaponry.

Indeed, Alex's team had proven themselves to be quite deadly in battle with skills that complemented each other quite well. They also had something that no other SPARTAN II team had and it wasn't Alex's empathic ability. Joyce had proven herself to have a sharp mind with an interest for tech, computer hacking and, oddly enough, the relatively obscure field of xenoarchaeology. Ever since man had first set out into the stars they'd kept their eyes open for any sign of intelligent life forms and any time something was found, specialists were sent in to study the find. To her knowledge nothing of note had been found thus far but that didn't necessarily mean that nothing had been found since she suspected that the higher ups at O.N.I. would have immediately classified such a find. Still, since there'd been no new 'technological breakthroughs' since the invention of the slipspace drive that she couldn't attribute to purely human thinking, she could only presume that those finds were limited. When she'd asked Joyce why she was so interested, the SPARTAN had simply said that she was certain they'd encounter aliens one day and that it'd be smart to learn as much as they could beforehand. By examining and studying xenoarchaeological finds, they'd be able to figure out how aliens thought while also learning to communicate with them.

She'd pointed out that as a SPARTAN she likely wouldn't get too many opportunities to look at any alien ruins but Joyce had countered by saying they didn't know what the future held and, depending on the find, those sent to study it might need a SPARTAN guard detail to keep them safe.

She had to concede that both possibilities were feasible.

In the end she decided that, while she could theoretically increase the size of Alex's team in order to ensure his protection, doing so might raise a few eyebrows. Instead she would entrust the team leader's safety to his teammates and only risk attracting attention if they proved to be insufficient. She would not allow Alex to be destroyed if she could do something to prevent it. His genes, his new ability, could be the beginning of the next stage of human evolution and if so she had an obligation to the human race to study it in preparation for those that would follow. It'd likely take time but, if her SPARTANs performed as she believed they would and succeeded in putting an end to the insurrection, it might earn her enough clout with the O.N.I. brass to requisition a few choice pieces of scanning equipment for a 'side project'. They'd want to know what its purpose was but, with their minds aflutter with all the different ways the SPARTAN IIs could further their various agendas, it was doubtful that they'd look too closely at whatever reason she gave them. Then all she'd need to do was schedule Alex's tests to coincide with his return visits to Reach and she'd have a way to monitor his progress and document any new developments.

"Doctor Halsey," Déjà said before her holographic avatar appeared above the pad built into her desk. "We have a situation requiring your immediate intervention."

"What is it, Déjà?" she asked, only minimally feeling that this might be a waste of time.

"Five SPARTAN IIs have taken hostages," Déjà replied, sounding concerned. "Based on their statements and the direction they are currently moving in, I believe it is their intention to leave the Program and return home."

"Order security to surround them but do nothing that might endanger the lives of the hostages," she said as she got out of her chair and put her lab coat on. "I'm on my way."

While a little disappointed that her more optimistic side's prediction hadn't come true, this turn of events wasn't as much of a surprise as one might think. There had always been malcontents among the subjects she'd gathered, some escape attempts made, but up until now those who sought to flee had never tried taking hostages. Their efforts had been focused on sneaking past the various guards and security cameras, then making it over the fence before running for the nearest town or city. Fortunately the 'talk' she had with those escapees about an injection that would allow them to go home but would wipe their memories of every friend they'd made since joining the Program had ended most efforts. However she'd always believed that, after the augmentations, those once silenced might be motivated into trying once more to escape, especially once they realized the guards couldn't stop them. From what she'd learned from Chief Mendez, all of the SPARTANs that'd survived the augmentation and were combat capable had been run through exercises to acclimate to their new limitations. If what she'd seen in the mine training room was typical of what the SPARTAN IIs could do now, she had doubts that any soldier on the base could stop them if they wanted to leave.

Now… now it was clear that the more rebellious factions amongst her SPARTANs had realized the physical advantage they had over their keepers and had chosen to take action.

Walking towards the barracks where the subjects had been last time she'd checked, it didn't take her long to find the source of the problem due to the commotion being made by people on both sides of the confrontation. The remaining guards and base personnel were trying to convince the SPARTANs trying to escape that they wouldn't get far or that they would be perfectly willing to let them go AFTER they released the hostages. On the other side were the SPARTANs trying to leave, telling all who opposed them to back away or they'd kill the hostages. She had to shake her head in disappointment with regards to the threat since it made it clear to her that the potential escapees didn't realize fully who they were dealing with. The entire Program was under O.N.I. jurisdiction and the organization would have no problem losing five ordinary soldiers if it meant keeping five top secret super soldiers in custody. For the moment her order not to take action that'd endanger the hostages was probably the only reason the captives hadn't been removed from the equation already.

Turning a corner, she navigated her way through the base personnel who'd been attempting and failing to negotiate a resolution to the matter.

Time to show them how it was done.

Once she reached the front of the group she saw who the malcontents were and felt something akin to concern when she saw Daisy-zero-two-three at the forefront, a M6C Magnum Sidearm pointed at the head of one of her lab subordinates. The others attempting to escape were likewise making sure their weapons could be seen and were in position to deliver a fatal shot to their hostages if it became necessary. Daisy-zero-two-three, Joseph-one-two-two, Ralph-one zero three, Jason-one-two-one and Jack-zero-four-five made up the group of rebels trying to escape but, from what she could see, they didn't have anything other than their pistols to fight with. It was probably all they'd been able to get ahold of but it still put them at a disadvantage, especially if one of the more reckless people at O.N.I. decided that a termination order was better than trying to take the escapees alive.

"What do you think you're doing, twenty-three?" she asked in an emotionless tone of voice.

"We're leaving and you can't stop us!" Daisy replied, pressing the muzzle of her pistol a little harder into her hostage.

"She's right! We're sick of your training!" Ralph added while keeping his hostage between himself and the direction hostile action was likely to come from.

"We're not going to be your toys anymore!" Daisy said, asserting her position as the leader of the rebellion.

Such is the price of limiting their learning to fields applicable to their mandated function, she thought as she took note of Twenty-Three's choice of words. They might know how to fight as soldiers and function soldiers but their concept of how to act their age is still stuck at the level of a child.

"You're not toys, Twenty-Three. I told you at the beginning what we would be helping you to become: protectors," she said, not letting herself get swept up in the emotions of the moment. "In order to be the protectors humanity needs, you to be you needed training and… improvements. I know they were harsh but they were necessary, Twenty-Three."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Daisy yelled in an outraged tone. "I have a NAME, a REAL NAME, and you can't take that from me! My name is Daisy Langstrom!"

Her eyes narrowed with mild irritation at that statement as she recalled the reason why they'd stripped the children of their surnames from the beginning. It'd been meant to cut their ties to their former homes, to their families, in the hopes that it'd make the transition easier, but apparently some had clung to their full names with unbreakable resolve.

With a little help from Alex she suspected, since she knew her newest curiosity had made efforts over the years to celebrate the birthday of every SPARTAN he could by raiding the mess hall kitchen for supplies. Efforts had been made to stop this but, when no noticeable drop in training progress had been detected after a year, she'd decided to let them have their special moments. Now she was beginning to think she should've taken more of a hardline against such activities, even if a part of her figured this situation still would've occurred anyways.

"Whether I call you by, your former name or a number, the end result is the same," she said, intentionally being cold in order to take the band aid method of dispatching the girl's hopes of returning to her former life. "O.N.I. has invested eight years of resources and time into this Program. Even if you manage to escape this base and somehow make it off Reach, do you really think they won't come after you? Save all of us some unnecessary trouble and just accept that you can't go home."

"Fuck you!" Daisy exclaimed, apparently having picked up some profanity from one of the trainers or guards. "We're going and anyone who tries to get in our way is going to regret it!"

"Very well. Everyone stand down," she ordered, letting her gaze pass over everyone else in the room. "Pass the word onto everyone else on base that might get in their way."

"But Doctor—" one of the security guards began to say before she silenced him with a frigid glare.

"Is your hearing deficient? Those are my orders," she said, making it clear that pushing the matter further would be a mistake.

There was a bit of a pause but eventually every armed non-SPARTAN holstered their weapons and those not armed either stepped away or cleared a path for the five hostage takers who wanted to leave.

"What's your game?" Joseph-one-two-two asked suspiciously even as he and his allies moved towards the open route.

"I've decided to let you indulge yourselves in the idea that you might actually get your happy ending," she replied, not letting her true intentions slip through. "You all no doubt think that all you have to do is get back 'home' and everything will be back the way you vaguely remember it was before your conscription. That you can just take your families, people you haven't seen in eight years, and disappear someplace where O.N.I. can't find you. If you won't believe me when I say it is pointless then I have no choice but to let you find out for yourselves."

Daisy looked at her with fury, no doubt trying to identify whether her words were a bluff or the truth, but then gave her allies a look before the entire group began to leave down the prepared path. Less than a minute later they were out of sight, leaving those that had been present for the beginning of their escape attempt to wonder what was going to happen next.

"This is bad. REALLY bad," one of the guards said, sounding like he expected trouble from those above their pay grade.

"Relax. We trained them, so we know how they're going to proceed. Once they acquire transportation or are far enough from the base they'll knock out the hostages before proceeding to the next stage in their plan: getting home." She was not worried in the least and it showed. "Fortunately we know where their homes are and have access to transportation that will let us get there ahead of them. Without their human shields and with the element of surprise, recapturing them won't be difficult."

No, the difficult part would be dealing with the psychological blow they would receive once they reached their former homes.

She truly hoped that all five were recaptured before then, if only to spare them unnecessary pain and her additional guilt.

A Short While Later

Mine Training Facility

Xander's POV

"ALEX!" came Joy's voice from the entrance to the mine training field.

With his new ability he could sense her fear, her concern and her sadness clearly, so without hesitation he broke off his training session with the men stationed there and sprinted for the entrance. As he'd expected his teammate and best friend was there waiting for him but the expression on her face immediately made it an unbreakable fact that he would either hurt the person who caused it or do whatever he had to in order to dispel it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, keeping his cool since losing it wouldn't help things at all.

"It's Daisy!" Joy replied, sounding very concerned with bits of fear mixed in. "She, Joseph, Ralph, Jason and Jack took hostages and escaped the base. They're trying to go home."

Damn.

He'd known that those five had been up to something but he'd been hoping that they'd stick around until after their first mission. It'd been his hope that, once they saw the threat the Insurrectionists posed firsthand, they'd realize how much the galaxy needed them. Apparently he'd overestimated their restraint or underestimated their desire to return to their parents and because of his mistake things had gotten a great deal more complicated.

"How are Doctor Halsey and Chief Mendez reacting?" he asked, wanting to know what action their superiors were taking.

"Halsey was the one that let them go," Joy replied, sounding a little angry at that action. "Chief Mendez is organizing some of the guards to pursue them."

Thinking on the answer, he tried to produce an accurate picture of what was going on in his mind but after two minutes he couldn't help but feel there was something he wasn't seeing. Why would Halsey let them go? He might not know all the details but he did know that the SPARTAN II Program was a top secret project that would cause massive fallout if news of it reached the public. With all that he'd learned about the Program and the enemies they'd been made to defeat, he'd made peace with it all and had committed himself to doing his job. That did not mean that he was oblivious to the violation of ethics the Program represented or how the citizens of the UNSC, both in the inner colonies as well as the outer ones, would react to it. Most would stick to their initial emotional reaction of outrage, insisting that all those involved be brought to justice that hopefully would come in the form of either execution or spending the rest of their lives in prison. Some would insist a full investigation be done so that they could have the facts before making any big decisions on what should be done and what should be left alone.

O.N.I. wouldn't let that happen.

That meant that they'd put all available assets on search and capture but, given how well the trainers had fared against his new brothers and sisters, even with the aid of the Mark I armor, he didn't see it going well. That would likely lead capture to be changed to terminate, since a well-placed shot with the element of surprise on its side would kill a SPARTAN as easily as it would a normal human. From their point of view, losing five but keeping the remainder a secret would be acceptable as long as additional steps were taken to ensure the obedience of the remaining SPARTANs. That didn't sit right with him at all because, for all the trouble she was causing, Daisy was still a teammate and part of his surrogate family. He wasn't about to let her or the others get killed just so O.N.I. could keep the Program a secret.

With only a quick hand signal to Joy to follow him he immediately left the training ground with a clear destination in mind: Doctor Halsey's office. His intent was equally clear in that he intended to request permission to go with the pursuit teams in the hopes that he could talk down the AWOL SPARTANs into returning. After all, if they agreed to come back there'd be no reason to sanction them and the secret that was the Program would remain so, satisfying everyone. How confident was he that he could convince Daisy and the others to return, given how motivated they likely were to never set foot on the base again? He had a few ideas but he was banking on his ability to sense the emotions of others to accurately measure how they were feeling so he could pick his words more strategically.

With a bit of luck they would agree to return and never try to escape again.

When he and Joy arrived at Doctor Halsey's office he knocked twice on the door before waiting for permission to enter. It was something he'd done ever since being brought to Reach, to the point of it being almost unconscious in the way he did it. However this time was different from all the others because, instead of the permission coming within seconds, he got nothing but silence.

"Doctor Halsey?" he said after knocking twice again, only to get no reply at all from the other side of the door.

He did, however, get a response from the building's intercom.

"Doctor Halsey is not currently in her office," Déjà declared with her voice coming through the intercom speaker. "She has departed for the UNSC Commonwealth currently in orbit."

"Did she say why she was going there?" he asked, hoping that Halsey hadn't ordered the dumb A.I. to keep such information to herself.

"No," Déjà replied, offering no elaboration.

For a moment he considered pressing the matter and trying to get the A.I. to tell him more but decided against it at the last moment. If he asked too many questions it might cause some suspicion to fall on him and convince base security to keep a close eye on him. Not that they probably weren't keeping a close eye on all the SPARTANs still on base, just in case a few more decided to bolt while Chief Mendez and Doctor Halsey were away, but suspicious behavior would only make things worse.

"Okay. Let me know when she gets back," he said before walking away, with Joy following close behind with one of her 'I look fine but I'm actually a little confused' looks.

He didn't tell her anything but rather kept a casual walking pace while mentally navigating to the one spot where the two of them could speak privately. The security measures for the base were impressive, they had to be in order to keep the SPARTAN II Program a secret, but even the best systems had blind spots if you knew where to look. In the early days, before he'd become convinced that they needed to stay with the Program, he'd spent his time trying to find places where he and Joy could plan in secret. It had been a stressful process to locate it but they'd eventually found a place where the cameras couldn't see and the microphones couldn't hear a thing. That was where he was heading right now because he had an objective in mind that'd depend quite a bit on surprise in order to achieve it.

Once they arrived and they both made sure that no other base personnel were in the area, he turned to her with a look that instantly caused a wary look to appear on her face.

"I need to get to Daisy and the others before O.N.I. does," he said, basically laying out his intentions without any build up.

"You really think they'll try to hurt her?" Joy asked, not sounding thrilled at the prospect.

"I think they'll try to KILL her and the others if that's what it takes to keep their secret Program a secret," he replied, not mincing words due to the seriousness of the matter.

"After all the money and resources devoted to the SPARTAN II Program, it wouldn't make sense for them to kill Daisy and the others," she said, not quite willing to believe that the Office of Naval Intelligence would be willing to take such action. "It'd be like baking the most expensive cake known to mankind only to throw it in the trash. All that effort… they wouldn't just throw it away. They'd at least eat a slice first."

He had to smile at that because, even with all their military training and the years that'd passed since they'd left the orphanage, Joy still had a thing for cooking. True, over the years he couldn't find the ingredients he needed to bake a real cake or even a cupcake to help one of their new family celebrate his or her birthday. Fortunately the sisters had taught Joy a few ingredient substitution tricks that'd helped them make due, or at least ensure that the end result was tasty enough to eat.

Didn't mean that the toilet wasn't used quite eagerly later, though.

"I don't need to be a lawyer to know that they've broken quite a few laws with this program. If the truth got out… it wouldn't be pretty," he said, not liking the possibilities his imagination was coming up with. "To keep their secrets secret, I think they'd do just about anything."

Joy thought the matter over for a few minutes and he didn't interrupt her because, if he was going to get to Daisy ahead of her potential executioners, he'd need help. In the end, though, Joy did what she always did whenever he was about to dive into a reckless and risky venture: back him up to the best of her ability.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked with resolve that every SPARTAN exuded once they'd been given a mission to accomplish by Chief Mendez or Doctor Halsey.

"I need help getting a ride and I need a distraction," he replied, his tone all business as he prepared himself for what was going to happen next.

Joy-070's POV

Why do I let him talk me into things like this? she thought as she made her way back to Doctor Halsey's office at a casual but quick pace.

The answer came about as quickly as the question: she let him talk her into insane stunts like this because his reasons were usually good and because there'd be less of a mess if she helped than if he acted on his own. As she turned the corner to see the door to Halsey's office, she put on her best poker face, knowing that eyes, both human and A.I., were on her through the security cameras. Once she was in front of the door she typed in the access code the doctor had given her for the times she wanted to access some books found only in the office.

"What are you doing, Joyce zero-seven-zero?" Déjà asked through the speakers of the intercom system.

"Just thought I'd get some reading done," she replied as the door opened, admitting her into the room. "There's a book in Doctor Halsey's office that I haven't finished yet."

This wasn't a lie per se, since there was indeed a book inside that she had been reading and had not finished. The only lie was that the book was not her goal, but rather the office owner's computer console because it was there that the information she needed was located. Keeping her movements as casual and innocent as possible, she went over to the bookcase near the desk and plucked the book from it before sitting down in Halsey's chair.

Now came the hard part.

With all the speed, precision and expertise she possessed she turned on the computer and immediately got to work locking Déjà out of the system. She wouldn't get far at all if the artificial intelligence got in her way, so it was definitely something she had to do first. It was hard since, by their very nature, A.I.s could 'think' faster and act faster than any organic being, but fortunately humans had an advantage over their artificial counterparts. They often thought in chaotic and illogical ways that mystified the mechanical minds of beings like Déjà, leaving them a few steps behind. Using that to her advantage she began laying out programs and inquiries meant to distract and confuse the A.I. while she also pieced together official looking orders that would get Xander off Reach and to Sargasso. He was already working on his end of the plan to 'borrow' some ODST armor in order to conceal his true age and identity. Thanks to the enhancements they'd received, her friend was physically big enough to pass for a member of the ODST without arousing too much suspicion. She just needed to create and send the necessary paperwork to induce the captain of the vessel Xander would be taking into taking the SPARTAN II where he wanted to go.

"Joyce zero-seven-zero, stop what you are doing immediately," Déjà ordered with a distracted air that might have been her imagination. "You are not authorized to access those documents or use Doctor Halsey's computer in such a manner."

"Then why don't you stop me?" she asked, not pausing even for a moment in her efforts. "I'm actually kind of curious to see how far I'd get, plus it'd be good practice."

"What do you mean practice?" Déjà asked before manifesting her holographic form above a nearby emitter.

"Well, A.I.s are pretty common in UNSC space, so it's possible that the Insurrectionists might've gotten a hold of a few. That means that on a mission to stop them my team might be forced to fight one," she said even as she reached the one third point in fabricating Xander's orders. "Sure, we could just blow up the hardware, but maybe there'll be a mission where we'll need to take the hardware intact and contain the A.I. rather than destroy it."

"Current intel on Insurrectionist activity does corroborate your theory regarding their use of A.I.s in their operations," Déjà said after a moment of simulated contemplation. "Very well, Joyce zero-seven zero I will permit this contest of cyber-warfare. However if you show signs of exceeding the logical parameters of such a contest, I will lock you out of the system and alert security as well as Doctor Halsey."

"I'd expect nothing less from you," she said even as she continued with her true purpose while distracting Déjà with incursion attempts in another sector of the base's network.

It was long and laborious work, with a few times bringing her a little too close to being found out by the artificial intelligence, but she managed to line everything up just right. With a single command the fabricated orders that'd get Alex where he needed to go was sent and she got a confirmation beep that told her it succeeded in leaving the local network. To hedge things even further in Alex's favor, she kept up her little sparring match with Déjà for another hour, using what resources she had to create ghost readings of SPARTAN IIs escaping the base. They weren't perfect but they were not intended to be. The intent was to make sure Déjà could identify them as mirages while making it look like she was doing her best to make them look like the real deal. This would up the odds of her teacher dismissing Alex's actual departure as another ghost, buying him more time to get off Reach and into slip space.

It was almost two hours later before she lost the fight against the A.I. but it was a close thing and implied that, with more practice, she stood a decent enough chance of defeating similar intelligences in the future.

"An admirable first attempt, Joyce zero-seven-zero," Déjà said as she powered down Halsey's computer. "Attempting to gain an advantage over an A.I. by creating multiple fronts to defend is a sound strategy. It may be worth exploring to construct autonomous attack and defense programs in preparation for future efforts. Even with the enhancements you have received it is unlikely that you will be able to manually control each front with sufficient skill to overcome the processing power of an enemy A.I."

"A good idea," she said honestly as she contemplated the basics of such programs. "See you around, Déjà."

Picking up the book she hadn't finished reading yet, she left the office for her preferred reading spot. She knew that her actions would be suspicious and definitely reported to the Chief as well as Doctor Halsey, but by then both would likely know the truth. All that'd be left would be an appropriate punishment and she knew that Alex would be willing to take whatever they dealt out and she was no different. They had to get Daisy back, alive and well, and this was the best way of doing it that wouldn't run the risk of the troubled young lady getting sanctioned via an O.N.I. sniper round through the skull.

It was as she was about to reach the door leading outside that she found someone waiting for her that she hadn't been anticipating.

John one-one-seven.

"Nice day, isn't it?" she said, trying to make it sound like she hadn't just been up to something that violated several UNSC regulations.

"Yep. Not a cloud in the sky," John said with a nod with an odd look on his face. "They're too busy chasing a flock of geese to the south. Should be an hour before the wind shifts sending them back this way."

Does he… does he KNOW? she thought as she tried to contemplate the meaning of one-one-seven's words.

A firm nod before walking away pretty much confirmed it.

Should've known that John would pick up on Alex's operation, she thought, keeping her face neutral. If I'm interpreting what he said right, it sounds like he managed to distract base security, sending them to the southern area of the property. That'll mean even fewer people to get wise to a SPARTAN II getting off base disguised as an ODST.

It was a welcome addition to the plan but if things took a turn for the worst, she'd keep John's involvement to herself and do what she could to keep the people in the tribunal from suspecting anyone else was involved besides her and Alex. John was the best of them and, if her suspicions were right, then Doctor Halsey was grooming him to become the overall leader of the SPARTAN IIs, so it wouldn't do to cause him unnecessary trouble by putting a black mark like this on his record.

I doubt they'll lock us away for this, she thought as her eyes fell upon the tree she liked to read under. At worst they'll probably put us in solitary for a month before deploying us with the others.

They were supposed to be the UNSCs trump card against the Insurrectionists, after all, so keeping two or more of them benched would only last for so long before some mission came up that needed a SPARTAN's touch.

Still, it'd probably be best not to push our luck, she thought as she looked skyward to where she imagined Alex's ride was waiting. Luck never lasts forever and tends to give out when you least expect it to.

A Few Hours Later

Xander's POV

"Your orders have been authenticated, lieutenant," the soldier in charge of departures from the UNSC spaceport said as he looked away from his console's computer screen. "Proceed to landing pad six. A pelican is waiting to take you up."

A nod was all he gave before turning away from the desk and began walking towards the specified landing pad.

Thank you Joyce! he thought as he kept his movements crisp and professional.

So far his plan was working out just as he'd hoped it would but he'd stay alert until he was standing next to Daisy on Sargasso. It wasn't that he doubted Joy's work but he figured it only be a matter of time before his absence was noticed on the base and they began to look for him. None of his brothers and sisters would give him up but all it'd take would be a review of security footage and the computer network for suspicious activity to give them some leads to follow. If Joyce followed his advice, the orders she fabricated would include strict instructions to maintain radio silence until he was successfully dropped off at his destination. He already had a few plausible explanations for this if the crew of the ship he'd be riding in inquired, but he'd be keeping it simple since making something too complicated increased the odds of things going awry.

If things took a turn for the worse and his fake orders were found out, he would be forced to take drastic action in order to make sure he got to where he needed to go.

He prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Seeing the Pelican on the pad, he quickened his pace and walked up the boarding ramp before approaching the cockpit.

"Let's get airborne, pilot," he said, looking at the lady pilot with her helmet's visor covering her eyes.

"Aye-aye, sir," the private said as she began launch procedures. "This is Pelican Beta Two-O-Four lifting off from pad six."

"Roger, Beta Two-O-Four," the man working in the control tower said over the comm-system. "You are cleared for launch."

With that the Pelican rose into the sky and, once it'd cleared the spaceport's tallest, it began its climb towards the ship that rested in orbit. It was as the Pelican cleared the upper atmosphere that he managed to lay eyes on the ship that'd take him to Sargasso. He'd left it to Joy to choose a ship since sniffing out a likely candidate prior to his leaving the base would've only raised suspicions, so he didn't know the name of the ship. However as he got closer he managed to identify it as a modified Phoenix-class support ship with the words 'UNSC Spirit of Fire' painted on the side. If he recalled correctly, this class of ship was usually used for colony building, transporting both colonists as well as equipment to worlds suitable for colonization. This one, however, had clearly been modified to serve as a warship with the addition of a Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, enlarged storage bays and destroyer level thrust assemblies.

It's a bit more than I wanted, a prowler would've been nice, but beggars can't be choosers, he thought as the Pelican got closer and closer to its destination.

As the Pelican entered the hanger bay of the ship he could see a mix of marines and crewmen milling about but what caught his attention was a twenty-something marine waiting near a vacant landing area. Beta Two-O-Four was heading towards it, so he presumed that the marine was his escort to the bridge where he'd likely speak with the captain before they made their way out of the system. It was standard protocol as well as the first real test of his ability to convince others that he really was an ODST marine. Fooling the man down at the spaceport wasn't much of an achievement since there was generally a reason why someone got assigned desk duty in the navy. Making experienced military personnel who'd been in the field for some time believe his story would be decidedly more difficult.

A few minutes later the Pelican touched down and lowered its boarding ramp, revealing his marine escort, who promptly saluted him, making him wonder just what priority level Joyce had assigned his 'orders'.

"Lieutenant," the marine said as he lowered his hand. "Captain Cutter awaits you on the bridge. I am to escort you there."

"Lead the way," he said before turning halfway back towards the Pelican. "Thanks for the ride, Private…"

"Rawley, sir. Call sign Foe Hammer," Private Rawley said, answering his unspoken question. "As for the ride, I was just doing my job."

"Thanks just the same," he said before turning away from the Pelican.

With that he was led through the numerous corridors and lifts, with the occasional crewmember or marine giving him a once over before going back to whatever they'd been doing. It was only natural, though, for an outsider to be scrutinized, especially in light of some out of nowhere orders, but he was confident that they wouldn't be a problem until more suspicious evidence presented itself. He'd just have to keep his statements short and to the point while avoiding any unnecessary contact with the crew. By doing so he'd minimize the chances of saying or doing something that'd arouse suspicions and cause the captain to break radio silence in order to confirm the orders they'd been given with a living person.

It didn't take long for the two of them to reach the bridge with the holo-table in the center and, unless he was mistaken, the man standing behind the forward consoles was the captain. He might not know anything about the man but he figured treating the officer like he would any other superior would be enough. Watching the man turn around, he immediately straightened his posture and executed a perfect salute as was proper when greeting a superior officer.

"Welcome aboard, lieutenant," Cutter said, returning the salute adequately. "I'll admit I was a bit surprised when I received orders to transport you to Sargasso but the encryption as well as the command codes checked out. I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate on the mission beyond 'transport Lieutenant Smith to Sargasso with all available speed'?"

"I'm afraid I cannot, Captain Cutter," he replied politely yet also with resolve. "I have my orders just the same as you do and they do not permit me to divulge mission details."

He could see that this did not sit well with the man and, looking at matters from his perspective, he doubted very much that he'd appreciate being kept in the dark. Unless he dispelled this foul mood it could lead to discrete inquiries with the captain's sources in the UNSC and that would lead to his efforts being thwarted.

He had but one choice.

"However in the interest of cooperation I'll tell you what I can," he said, letting the difficulty in what he was about to do show. "Suffice it to say that an 'asset' has come across information that has caused them to go AWOL and head for Sargasso. My mission is to go to that planet, find the asset and convince the asset to return to the fold."

"Given the priority level of the orders, this asset can't be too important if all it warrants is a single Helljumper to be sent in pursuit," Cutter said, sounding dubious about what he was being told.

"I… have a history with the asset, sir," he said, feeling his grasp of the situation begin to slip away. "The higher ups believe I'll be able to reason with her. The only other solution is… decidedly more permanent and… ruthless."

This raised an eyebrow but it seemed to be enough to prompt the captain to shelve his concerns in favor of action.

"Then let's get underway," Captain Cutter said before turning to the helmsman. "Break orbit! Spin up the FTL drive and set course for Sargasso. Best speed!"

"Aye-aye, sir!" the helmsman said before putting action to words.

Looking out the forward windows even as the shutters slid into place, he took a moment to take in the view of Reach from orbit. It'd been a long time since he'd seen it and the last time he'd been far too young to fully appreciate it. To think that there were over a hundred worlds out there just like Reach and, as a member of the SPARTAN II program, it was now his duty to protect them all from whatever might threaten them. It was a huge burden but not one he would cast aside out of fear. Everything he'd heard had made it clear that the UNSC had done everything they could so far to bring the Insurrectionists to justice but they just weren't making enough progress. If lives were to be saved and destruction kept to a minimum, then it was up to him, along with the rest of the SPARTAN IIs, to rise to the occasion.

It was mere minutes later that he felt a slight jolt but it only lasted for a minute.

"Slip space jump completed," the ship's A.I. said before manifesting above the holo-table. "ETA to Sargasso three point four hours."

Not as quick as he'd hoped but he knew that there were limits to how fast a UNSC ship could travel even when pushing their engines to the limit. Without knowing when Daisy escaped the base or what method of travel she'd chosen to get to her home world, it was impossible to calculate where she was on her journey. He could only hope that her desire to stay under the radar forced her to stow away on a ship that either would take an indirect route to Sargasso, or was only half as fast as the Spirit of Fire. If she got home before he did, there was no telling how quickly things would go FUBAR, and if she got sanctioned by ONI…

NO! I will NOT let that happen! he thought with resolve stronger than the best warship armor.

Remembering all too well one of the Chief's lessons, he refused to even consider the possibility that he'd fail because if he did, he'd have sown the seeds of the possibility becoming a reality.

He'd make it.

There was no other option.