LOCATION: UNSC COLONY ON LUNA – UNSC SOL SECONDARY NAVAL SHIPYARD

/JUN-19-2533 SOL/ 1330 Universal Time/

Admiral Mitchell wasn't a fan of the Luna Colony. It was too cramped for his liking. Granted, the bio-domes that housed society provided a rather romantic view of space and the shipyards that surrounded the planet in a large ring. He sat at a little table on the roof of a deli that he had begun frequenting as soon as he discovered their Reuben sandwiches. Because of his daily ritual, along with the presence of the UNSC Shipyards, a small protection detail was stationed there. It was standard protocol that all high-ranking officials of the UNSC have at least a fireteam of Marines nearby at all times. This protocol, however, was becoming slightly lax as most Marines were now being deployed to fight the Covenant. This left his detail without relief, and more often than not he only had two Marines protecting him instead of the usual four. The two mentioned Marines were part of the Lunar defense garrison, one a Corporal, the other a Private. At the moment, each one stood at different positions on the rooftop he was on. The Private was guarding the door, while the Corporal scanned the surrounding area. She was young, almost reminding Mitchell of his daughter. This didn't help matters when he could practically feel the tension radiating from her. "You can relax you know" said the Admiral, "It's hard to enjoy what little break I have when you're standing there like a Covie Jackal."

The Marine Corporal in question turned her attention toward him. "Respectfully Sir, it makes me nervous that you choose to eat on the same roof top daily."

"Would you rather me be cooped up in my office where the light doesn't shine?"

"Respectfully Sir, it would make guarding you a hell of a lot easier, and a lot less stressful."

The Admiral let out an amused grunt. He had to admit, she may be young but she had some balls talking so familiarly with him. He liked that. "I don't think you'd want to get stuck in a room with me. I'm not a fan of sitting in once place for too long."

The Marine stayed silent, merely giving a respectful nod. But the look in her eyes told him that if she could, she'd lock him in the room and stand by the other side of the door. The Admiral continued, genuinely curious. "Where are you from Corporal?"

"The colony on Titan Sir, I was born and raised there."

"I see. Well does the Corporal from Titan have a name?"

"Miranda Sir."

The Admiral sighed, to be honest this was becoming awkward. He chose to sit in silence for a time and sip at the coffee in front of him. Gazing back up at the stars, he began to let his mind wander toward them. He thought of the countless stars and countless systems. Surely not every living thing in this universe was a genocidal freak, right? How nice it would be to discover a friendly species that they could get along with. That led him to his next train of thought, the goal at hand. He needed to make a decision on who captain the Forever Vigilant. His pool to select from was young, albeit of high standing. But still, they lacked the experience of a seasoned officer. And the assignment he was selecting them for was one that placed more than a thousand lives, and a large sum of UNSC resources in their hands. For a young lieutenant, that was a LOT of responsibility. Why was it that ONI Section 3 wanted such young candidates? What was the common denominator that connected them to make ONI interested in selecting those three? He had his aid send him the personnel files of each one, and so far, he couldn't make it out. The only thing he could figure out was which one he was leaning toward. The problem was that now he had to contact ONI. His thoughts were cut short when he recognized the voice of the Private watching the door.

"Sir, I need to see your I.D. before I let you in here".

Admiral Mitchell turned to see a man in a black suit standing before the young Private. After showing him the I.D., the Marine allowed him to pass. A pit formed at the bottom of the Admirals stomach when he recognized the agent from ONI Section 3 that was standing before him.

LOCATION: UNSC COLONY ON LUNA – UNSC SOL SECONDARY NAVAL SHIPYARD – ABOARD THE UNSC HARDLINE

/JUN-19-2533 SOL/ 1400 Universal Time/

LT. Oliver was as busy today as he was all days. The 12th Strike Fleet was in full blown repair and refit mode after a previous engagement with a small Covenant logistics group. Both sides had exchanged blows, but eventually the 12th Fleet stood victorious over the numerically smaller enemy. It may have not been a big victory by any means, but at this point humanity needed as many victories as they could get. Thankfully, they had suffered minimal losses due to the planning and strategy of Fleets Admiral, ADM. Mitchell. But now was the time to pull the pieces back together and prepare to fight another day. Oliver was grateful to be aboard a Halcyon Class cruiser. It fared better in a fight than a frigate, and had more space than a destroyer. The only problem was the amount of work it took to keep her running. His rate was that of an Operations Specialist, meaning his place of work was the Combat Information Center. The CIC acted as the ships nerve center, it controlled combat operations, turret guidance, troop deployment, ordinance targeting, the list went on. This also meant that he was constantly checking in with the various combat and technician departments throughout the ship to make sure everything would be ready for their next deployment. To top things off, he was scheduled to meet a promotion board within the coming week. In short, there was too much to do with too little time to do it.

Oliver wasn't alone at least. There were two other lieutenants on board the ship with his rate of Operation Specialist, and normally that was enough to help balance the load while the third could take a short break. But that hadn't been the case this time. After the previous battle, the UNSC Hardline was experiencing system failures beyond belief. To make matters worse for him and his two counterparts, she had been one of the ships to take a couple plasma torpedoes to her hull. These hits had fried electronics in the surrounding areas of each impact and super heated other systems that were closer to the hit. This didn't account for the hull breach that occurred on one deck. Fortunately, these were all minor systems with very few of the failures being anything regarding weapons and none being life support. Thank God for the Halcyon Class was the only though that crossed his mind when he saw the list of things that needed to be done.

At the moment, LT. Oliver was standing behind a Petty Officer who was running him through a small checklist regarding power to the auto loading systems for two of the six M910 Rampart Point Defense guns mounted on the ships starboard side. At the moment, the 50mm auto-cannons worked perfectly fine. The only down side is that 2 of them were having issues reloading after they expended their magazine blocks. This wasn't due to any damage on the turrets part either, and that is what frustrated Oliver. The issue was in the power for the auto-loaders being drawn and directed from a portion of the ship that had taken a hit. This was the flaw of older Halcyon Class Cruisers. Their powered systems were very interconnected, meaning that a direct hit in one area of the ship could lead to troubles anywhere on that segment. Oliver sighed, "So our issue lies with the power draw from C deck?"

"Yes, and we currently have repair teams working on it. They said they had fixed the issue, but the re-loaders are still having trouble responding." The Petty Officer said.

"I'll go make contact and see what's going on. Nothing to worry about, just keep running tests and let me know if anything else comes up."

"Aye Sir."

Oliver made his way out of the CIC and towards his destination of C deck. The trip was not a straight shot to say the least. The passageways were bustling with activity. Technicians, crew, and inspectors were moving throughout the ship to perform the tasks that needed to be done to get the ship back into fighting condition. Military personnel saluted and allowed him to pass as he approached while the civilian inspectors just kept about their business. 'Another day in the fleet' Oliver thought to himself as he came to a ladder. Just as he was about to make his way up to the next deck, a voice stopped him.

"Lieutenant Oliver?"

Oliver turned around to see who had said his name, and immediately spotted the source. It was a smartly dressed man of around middle age. His hair was shaved off completely and he wore a pair of modest glasses. He was paler than most people, signaling that the man probably didn't get much sunlight in his work. But those weren't the only features that made the man stick out from everyone around him. Oliver spotted the badge the man was casually holding for him to see. It bore the two-faced pyramid with the acronym ONI. Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. What did ONI want with him? Had he done something wrong without realizing it? He had never had any interaction with the organization, but he did hear plenty of stories. The part the worried him however was that many of those stories depicted a mysterious black project organization with nearly limitless resources and the ability to make you disappear. To be honest, he had imagined their agents to wear the stereotypical black suits and shades. To be stoic and tough individuals with classified backstories and hardened appearances. But before him stood this rather small individual in a tan coat and… were those slippers? This man looked nothing like he imagined an ONI agent to look. Then why did he find it just as intimidating?

"That is me?" Oliver's reply came out hesitant.

The ONI agent grinned at Oliver. "Ah good. I've been instructed to have you come with me. We need to have a talk. But first, tell me. Do you like Reuben sandwiches"?

LOCATION: UNSC COLONY ON LUNA – UNSC SOL SECONDARY NAVAL SHIPYARD

/JUN-19-2533 SOL/ 1345 Universal Time/

Admiral Mitchell studied the agent standing before him. He "knew" this agent all to well. The man before him had been his line of connection between his Operation and ONI Section 3. The agent was easily in his late thirties with brown hair that was well kept. The man wore his suit well, and had shined shoes. He wore a data pad on his left arm and although he was young when compared to the Admiral, seemed to carry himself with the experience of twice his age. The Admiral decided to break the silence. "What do I owe the pleasure of having Section 3 at my lunch table?"

The agent looked at him indifferently before pulling a chair out from the table to sit. "I'm here to help move things along for the Operation. I need your answer so that I can inform my superiors."

"I know why you're here… I was only hoping that I would be able to finish lunch in peace before you came." The truth was that Mitchell had finished lunch about 30 minutes ago. That much was obvious by the fact that coffee was the only thing sitting on the Admirals table, and for him it was cup number 3. "Lets just get one thing straight with your superiors, this is MY Operation. As for my decision, I had a few questions before I tell you."

The agent showed no reaction. "ONI isn't saying this isn't your Op. We are merely here to make sure YOUR Op succeeds. Don't forget the reaction in the Security Council's response letter."

"That was a private message." The Admiral deadpanned. He knew full well that ONI had likely seen the letter, but it still annoyed him that the agent had the nerve to openly admit their doing so.

The agent once again showed little reaction before continuing. "What questions did you have?"

Mitchell stared at the agent in calm frustration for a few moments before starting. "Why are the candidates you gave me so young? ONI could have chosen experienced senior naval officers, men familiar with running such a ship. And last I checked, there are a number of perfectly suitable candidates with more experience than three lieutenants." There was a moment of silence between the two. He stared down the agent while the agent stared right back. After a brief moment of studying one another, the agent spoke.

"All I can tell you is that a younger officer is a lot less set in their ways than a seasoned Captain."

"So, you want control?"

"We need adaptability."

"For what? These kinds of operations are nothing new. This one is only a combination of existing maneuvers."

"I can't say anything more. If you have a problem with that, you can talk to my superiors directly."

"Bullshit, I don't even know your name let alone enough to make direct contact with any kind of superior office. You're all ghosts. You show up, make demands, take control over the Op…"

"And get it approved for you to conduct in the first place." The agent finished for the Admiral. It was clear that it was his turn to become frustrated. "Now Admiral, have you selected your candidate?"

"I'm certain you already know who I've picked. Only one of the candidates you handed me has any kind of experience on a cruiser of any kind. Picking any of the others would have required retraining them. That is something we don't have time for…"

The agent gave the Admiral a coy smile, "It's nice to have options isn't it."

The Admiral grumbled, turning his head to look away from the conversation and took a long sip of his coffee. He set the cup back on the table and watched the shipyards that ringed the planet. He then turned his attention to the land-side docking station a few miles out. He could see craft of various sizes and roles taking off and landing. Most carried cargo to repair his damaged fleet. 'This whole situation is bullshit' thought Mitchell to himself. "So, what now?" Said the Admiral as he turned back to the conversation.

"We wait here. I have an agent grabbing him for us as we speak." It was the agents turn to sip his coffee.