Disclaimer: I own neither the video games franchise Halo or the anime series Naruto. They are the properties of Microsoft and Masashi Kishimoto, respectively. All characters depicted here belong to their legal owners.

... This was a long time coming.

A Dangerous Game

Hiruzen gazed upon the starry night sky over Konoha from the porch of the Hokage Residence, smoking his tobacco pipe as he typically did. No longer was he wearing his formal attire, preferring evening garments for the night's sleep that would soon follow. The breeze flowed against his skin and blew around some of the looser parts of his clothing, a welcome refresher after the day's earlier high temperatures. This was a usual habit of his when the weather permitted with clear skies. It gave him a time and place to relax and think upon recent events, to soak everything in and let it all settle in his mind. Today's affairs were particularly quite a lot to take in.

The aging Hokage did not know if he could wholly believe everything the Spartan had told him. There was so much he didn't understand, and what he did consisted of things only ever imagined in fiction. It was so very outlandish, but it was terrifying worst of all.

—

Earlier that Day...

They stood alone, staring each other down. It wasn't Hiruzen's office they were in, but rather the small conference room on the first level commonly used for hosting Council meetings. The weight of Spartan-117's armor had been too heavy for the building's wooden floors to sustain. The fact not only prohibited them from climbing any staircases, but it also spoke greatly for the green giant-of-a-man's immense strength. To be capable of wearing such an overbearing ensemble, and still maintain the agility to walk and maneuver as he did, was an impressive feat. The line of questions it instigated, however, were to be saved for later.

The most noticeable hindrances to Sarutobi's attempts to get a read on the man were the helmet and golden-tinted visor. Seeing an acquaintance's face was essential to learning their nuances, especially in diplomatic matters such as this. The more one knew about who they were speaking to, the easier it would be to understand their motives and find a resolution to the issues at hand. Seeing as how the soldier was entirely emotionless from the way he spoke to how he held himself, the inability to see his face made Hiruzen's efforts that much harder. He would need to convince the man to remove it at some point, though he was already beginning to doubt that would occur in the near future. "Is it common for you to wear your helmet in private settings," he asked as he sat at his usual seat, situated at the end of the room's long conference table. His tone hinted at the unsaid request.

"Yes," was the armored man's deadpanned response. He gave no indication as to whether he acknowledged the true question or not, let alone how he felt on the matter.

Sarutobi narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is hiding your face when speaking not seen as rude by your people?"

"It is."

"And yet here you are doing so anyway." He paused to take a puff of smoke from his tobacco. "One might say you are making a horrible first impression."

Spartan-117 remained quiet for a short moment, but diligently kept his golden gaze fixed on the Hokage. "By active orders given by the Office of Naval Intelligence's highest authority, 'under no circumstances, whether they be combat-related, diplomatic, civilian-related, or of any other nonconventional means, must a Spartan Two reveal his or her face, and in turn his or her full identity, to any person not appointed specific authority upon by Commander-in-Chief Office of Naval Intelligence.'"

The armored man's words prompted the elder's interest. "And what exactly is a 'Spartan,' as you call yourself?"

A sharp and instantaneous reply. "That's classified information."

Hiruzen did not take too kindly to that, but he restrained any visible agitation with another puff. He then closed his eyes and released a tired sigh. "From what I've been told by the men and women who escorted you here, you are not familiar with this country or its people. Am I to assume you are here today asking for information regarding both?"

"I am, sir. As a representative of the United Nations Space Command."

"So, you claim to be here on a diplomatic mission," Sarutobi continued, unable to hide the bit of irritation in his voice. "Hoping to learn about the people and village I have long pledged to defend with my life." He opened his eyes then to reveal a pointed stare. "You are asking me to put a great deal of trust in you, Spartan, without any good cause or reason."

There was the slightest straightening of the soldier's back, an especially subtle movement which would have gone unnoticed by most. "With all due respect, I gave you cause the moment I surrendered myself and my weapons."

They locked gazes again, eye-to-glass, for nearly a full minute. Neither of them seemed willing to relent, until the aging village leader finally closed his eyes and released a tired groan. He took another puff of his tobacco. "Ask your questions."

And the green stranger did. What were the common systems of measurement? How long were the days, months, and years? What form of government was utilized in the Land of Fire? The questions were simple and easy in the beginning, their answers among common knowledge. The discussion continued like this for at least half of an hour. Soon, however, the inquiries began entering more specific and complex territory as time passed. A deep interest in politics and warfare showed itself. What were the diplomatic relations between the Five Great Nations? What trade goods did each nation primarily specialize in? How often did conflict break out between them, and why? How were wars typically fought? After nearly two hours since they started, the Spartan reached his final line of questioning. What precisely were Shinobi? How were they trained? And what was Chakra?

The Hokage wasn't particularly surprised to have those details asked of him. Given Spartan-117's alien nature and seemingly nonexistent knowledge of the world, the village leader had assumed they would come. That was not to say he answered in full. Shinobi training beyond the basics of the academy were state secrets, and entirely independent of third-party regimes outside the individual teachings of a squad's sensei. The most advanced of Shinobi Arts were either stored in the Konoha Library, access to the section strictly confined to Leaf-Nin only, or labeled as taboo and locked behind closed doors. Interestingly, his explanation of Chakra and its essential usage by shinobi induced a lengthy silence from the green giant. He took note of that. "Is there anything else you would like to know?"

The response was quick regardless. "Not yet."

"Hm, then I hope you can start answering some questions of my own."

"I'll answer what I can."

In other words, certain secrets would remain hidden. Just as expected.

—

In the Present...

A Humanity united by common cause. Colonies reaching across the stars. Galactic-scale warfare. The Covenant. It would be a lie to claim he fully understood the notions. The scales were too large and the concepts too alien. Nevertheless, he could imagine well enough with what was given to him. The incomprehensible power of an empire, slaughtering everything in its path, leaving naught but death and destruction in its wake. Entire worlds teeming with life and prosperity, much like his very own, ravaged to burning husks and mere relics of former beauty. Cities and homes pillaged, and families robbed of their futures.

Sarutobi had survived the Third Great Shinobi War in one piece, something not all of his peers could truthfully say. He'd seen the dreadful effects it had on people's lives firsthand, and he doubted this conflict Spartan-117 had spoken of was any better. War never changes; a basic truth he strove to pass on to the younger generations. He only hoped they used his teachings of history to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past.

But this Covenant scared him. He couldn't deny it, neither to himself or the Spartan. Their goals, the dominion of all sentient life and the complete extermination of the Human Race, both in the name of their religion, were deathly fanatical. Kami forbid what would happen if they discovered his world. With such advanced technology at their disposal, of which only barebones was explained to him, he feared his people were hopelessly outmatched. Even now he could vaguely picture it. A giant purple shape looming in the sky above Konoha, unleashing waves of flying machines and grotesque beasts, as a beam of pure destructive energy stroke down from its belly to turn his beloved home into a wasteland of dust and glass. The imagined scene sent a chill up his spine.

And what of this United Nations Space Command? A military-controlled state if there ever was one, though Hiruzen could hardly judge. Given the threat of genocide from a force like the Covenant, and the fact Konohagakure was not much different politically, the indefinite suspension of their true peacetime government was understandable. It was the secretive Office of Naval Intelligence he was worried about. Just as when inquired about his personal origins, Spartan-117 had been less than forthcoming when regarding that branch of the UNSC, sharing nothing more than what minimal information had been told prior. The aging Hokage did not like it. Something about ONI sounded too familiar to another organization he knew all too well.

The greatest mystery, however, was the Spartan himself, or Master Chief as was the preferred moniker. What were his intentions? Was he a blessing or a curse? And was Konoha, nay, the entire shinobi world prepared for the possibilities he had undoubtedly brought? His wholesome attempts to remain diplomatic and peaceful earlier were respectable, but it would take more in the coming days to build a working trust. War, after all, was his profession, and he would continue to be considered a rogue element so long as he stayed a neutral entity. Only time would tell if he were to remain so amicable in his efforts.

One thing was for certain. The other Hidden Villages would learn of the day's events sooner or later, that is if they had not already. As Sarutobi took one last puff of tobacco and returned indoors in preparation for the night, he wondered how the other powers that be would react to this new and uncharted playing field.

Iruka looked at his protégé and frowned. It wasn't because he was upset, angry, disappointed, or of some other emotionally charged reason. He had long moved on and forgiven Naruto's earlier actions, as he typically did with the orange aficionado's expected antics. No, it was the boy staring blankly at the full bowl of ramen in front of him, chopsticks swishing aimlessly around in the broth. "Something on your mind, Naruto?"

"Huh?" Naruto turned in slight surprise, apparently having heard his name but not the question and not having expected either.

The Chunin's frown deepened. "Is something wrong? You've barely touched your food."

The boy's eyes widened for a second before an easygoing grin took over. "Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking about that big guy in the green armor. It was so cool!" Then, as if finally remembering the meal in front of him, he dove head first into his bowl.

While he managed a small smile at the display, Iruka was still troubled. He turned to the man wearing a simple white cook's uniform behind the counter. Teuchi, the owner of Ramen Ichiraku, met his gaze briefly before returning to the task of cleaning the small establishment's cooking station, the middle-aged chef showing his own worry for the Uzumaki.

The boy was eating fast, an understatement when it came to the blonde, but not with his usual vigor. Iruka could certainly claim he was one of the select few people who would notice the slower speed of consumption. He also understood it meant Naruto was bothered by one thing or another, which the fact was having more difficulty than usual remaining hidden. It must have been related in some way to the strange foreigner the Hokage had met with earlier. That had been all the boy could talk about since they first sat down for their evening meal. However, the exact reasoning escaped the Chunin, regardless of his suspicions.

Iruka knew pushing the point would be fruitless. Naruto was never one to open his heart easily, even to those he trusted. The only option was to turn the conversation in a more optimistic direction. "So, the Chunin Exams are coming up." That quickly caught the boy's eager attention. "Do you think your team is ready?"

"You better believe it," he exclaimed after slurping up the last of his bowl's broth. His typical enthusiasm immediately returned with the new change of subject, at least for now. "Once Sakura-chan gets out of the hospital, we'll stomp those exams. Then I'll be the same rank as you, Iruka-sensei!"

The Academy instructor chuckled sincerely. "Don't be hasty. Most ninja have to train for at least a couple of years before they're ready to become a Chunin, and you've only been a Genin for a few months." He noticed the boy's enthusiasm deflate a bit and gave a reassuring smile. "But don't worry too much, Naruto. I know you will do great when your time comes."

It wasn't a lie. Iruka truly believed in his former student's ability to become a Chunin in the future. However, he did not think the upcoming Exams were to be when that belief would blossom. Team Seven had been under the guidance of their sensei, Kakashi Hatake, for less than a suitable period of time. While the events and ensuing success of their most recent mission in the Land of Waves would be a selling point for entry, they simply were not ready. He'd read the mission report. It had been Kakashi and the Kyuubi's power which ultimately won the battle against Zabuza, and those were two things Naruto and his teammates would not be capable of relying on. The three of them needed to grow more, both as individual shinobi and as a team, and he knew for a fact that Naruto and Sasuke still required better cooperation. Their rivalry had continued strong since their days in the Academy. It could become a dangerous liability should they enter the Exams before moving past it.

With that all in mind, the blonde Genin didn't need to know that yet. Seeing genuine happiness on the boy's face was all that mattered for the moment. "Now how about I buy you another bowl of ramen?"

Naruto nearly jumped out of his seat in his excitement. "Hell yeah! You're the best, Iruka-sensei!"

"Cortana."

The rustling of leaves in the evening wind and the breaking of loose foliage beneath his feet answered back.

"Cortana, respond."

The sun had descended past the horizon some time ago, and it was only now, through the thick forest scarcely illuminated by the night sky above, that Master Chief was reaching the edge of the Forward Unto Dawn's impact crater. He had yet to hear from his AI companion since she last spoke in Konohagakure. With a desperation unlike him now that the desolate ship laid close ahead, he quickened his pace. The faster he returned to the ship and its facilities, the sooner he could do... something. It was an aimless goal, but better than doing nothing when Cortana's wellbeing was at stake.

He entered the same way he had before; into the sliced open side of the ship and through a sealed door. Earlier, he had pried the same one open with sheer strength, but now it was closed once again due to the re-initialization of the auxiliary power. The ship couldn't tell it was in atmosphere, causing all hatches and doors exposed to the open air to be locked down from the faux threat of depressurization and the vacuum of space. However, there was no need to open the door through brute force this time. The electronic access terminal on the adjacent bulkhead was, thankfully, still functioning. He was within the depths of the Dawn only moments later.

The Combat Information Center, or CIC, was the only section of the ship which could help him. His first thought had been to access the IT working compartment, but that was located on the side of the ship now floating adrift in some other part of the galaxy. The same could be said for the CT workplace, which would have been a viable alternative. Master Chief had to settle with what relatively little electronic suites the CIC had to offer instead.

Doubt began creeping in, his steps on the titanium deck of the ship becoming heavier the further he went. It was irrational. Instead of feeling easier knowing aid for his companion was near, the weight on his shoulders only grew more burdening. What if he could not help her? Hacking and electronic warfare had never been his forte; he wasn't a specialist in computer software, let alone the complex nature of a Smart AI. All of his hopes were on the capabilities of the CIC and Cortana's own diagnostics programs. What if it wasn't enough? He minutely shook his head and cleared himself of those thoughts. Such questions served no beneficial purpose.

From what little he understood of Rampancy, one of its symptoms was a lack of software space as the Smart AI in question 'evolved' and grew larger. There was hope in the CIC. The significantly larger data storage capabilities of its computer systems would give Cortana some figurative space to breath, an opportunity to consolidate herself. By no means a permanent solution, but it would give them time to coordinate for the future.

Master Chief reached the CIC sooner than he would have the Bridge and found the area to be in a similar state of disarray. He ignored the clutter and maneuvered for the AI terminal. After a hasty look over to check its integrity, he pulled his companion's chip from his helmet and inserted it into the terminal's slot. The holographic image of Cortana appeared on top of the computer system then, her 'body' laying on its side in a fetal position and occasionally flickering to a neon red. He felt a brief wave of relief initially, but seeing her in such a state just as quickly unnerved him. The Spartan was being reminded all too much of the past. "Cortana."

Her name, spoken barely above of a whisper, brought a feint shift of her head. A long moment passed before she finally responded, her voice meek and just as quiet. "John?"

"I'm here," he answered with a rarely heard softness, leaning in closer.

Her entire body appeared to relax with those two simple words, the red flickers calming just the same. "So many years in the dark... alone." She lifted her head slightly, faux purple hair facing him and falling to programmed gravity. "I asked myself everyday if I should wake you."

Chief dropped to his knee, bringing his helmet's visor level with her. "I'm awake now."

Cortana slowly turned her head towards him, wide eyes showing a vulnerability he had seen only once before. The corners of her lips then lifted in a small and soft smile. "Lucky me."

"It's my job to be lucky."

Her smile grew a bit bigger as she stared at him, eventually finding the strength to gradually but proudly stand up. They shared that knowing gaze, holographic eyes to golden visor, for some time. "And what does that leave me to do?"

The Spartan raised to his feet as well, retrieving the AI chip from the terminal on the way up. He lifted it to within reach of her arms in silent request. "To mix things up a little."

The gesture was technically unnecessary. She could have easily returned to the chip via the terminal. Yet, there was a familiarity in it, something they both knew and understood. A kind of comfort, one might say. So of course, Cortana willing accepted with a brightness on her face not unlike that of her usual self. "I do know how to pick 'em."

Getting inside the massive monstrosity was simple enough. With a little chakra to the feet and a practice of wall-walking, entering through the gaping hole some dozens of feet off the ground was child's play. Space-faring or not, a dead ship was as derelict as any other.

"I'm in."

A mature but still adolescent voice replied in his ears, clouded lightly by the static of radio interference. The walls were thick. "Remember the orders."

It should have been left unsaid. Failing to follow orders was not a healthy thing to do, and his partner over the radio knew so. While irrational, perhaps it was just worry on the other's part. This was unknown territory they were dealing in, after all, even if it would not necessarily be the first time. He supposed he should at least return the sentiment if only to appease his partner. "Gather intelligence, avoid direct contact."

"Correct."

With nothing left to be said from either side of the radio, he continued his trek into the depths of the alien vessel. He spared only brief glances at the surrounding clutter of green metal machinery strewn across the large chamber. When he found a suitably dark and secluded corner, he retrieved three items from the pouch hanging from his hip: a scroll, a brush, and an inkwell.

His mission was just beginning.

CHAPTER END

28MAR2019: Fixes to grammar, typos, and other simple quality of life changes to the chapter.