The Last Spartan

by DinoJake

An AU fic in which the Halo and ME universes share the same galaxy. After a well deserved rest in Cryo-Sleep, Master Chief finally awakens...to a whole new galaxy.

38. Reignite

So yeah. Halo 5 teaser showed up at E3. Kinda surprising, actually. I mean, think about it. Halo: CE debuted in 2001, Halo 2 came out in 2004, and finally Halo 3 was released in 2007. Oh, and Reach was released in 2010. Can't forget that. Each subsequent game after the first one took 3 years to make, like clockwork. Why? Because Bungie took their time with the Halo games, and it showed. Each new Halo title boasted many new features that added ever more depth to the gameplay. I was expecting 343 Industries to do the same, which meant that we wouldn't even HEAR of Halo 5 until 2014, but evidently, 343 is looking to out-do Bungie in the speedy release department. I would caution them against that. While Mass Effect 3 wasn't terrible (star kid not withstanding of course), its flaws stand as a testament to what can go wrong if you try to rush things.

Onto the teaser itself. First off, Master Chief wearing a cloak and wandering in a desert. I've seen one guy say that it's a knock against Bungie's newest title Destiny, but I don't think so. I think it's more the opposite of that: a shout-out to Destiny. Makes sense; a lot of people at 343 used to work at Bungie. Makes sense that they would wish the best of luck to their father company, even if they're now making games for Microsoft AND Sony now.

He keeps Cortana's empty data crystal with his dog tags. Yeah. That stirred up a few feels.

What else? Oh yeah. The Forerunner Mecha-Hawk thing that looked like it wanted to eat John. So yeah. That's a thing Chief will have to deal with. No Arbiter though. More than a few fans disappointed by that, I'll bet.

There are a LOT of questions that the teaser raises; like why would a SPARTAN-II wear a cloak over his armor? Well, it's possible that, given how iconic the armor has become, the cloak was necessary for the Chief to maintain a low profile. Long-time readers will recall that the Arbiter wore a cloak in Chapters 17 and 18 for that very reason. This theory has been confirmed by Frank O'Connor himself. Relevant Youtube link:

/watch?v=X4zuyEmv7rE

As for what the Chief is doing out in the middle of an alien desert to begin with? Hard to say. Remember, the expressed intent of the Reclaimer Trilogy is not only to explore the mysteries of the Forerunners more, but also to dissect the Master Chief's psychology. The Karen Traviss books Glasslands and Thursday War demonstrate that ONI is far from a shining paragon of Humanity; they are deliberately sabotaging the Sangheili to prevent a peaceful resolution to their civil war to keep them weak, with possibly the eventual goal of wiping out the entire species. This effectively makes them no different from the Covenant at the height of the war. It's possible that ONI gave the Master Chief an order that, for the second time in his life (the first being refusing to hand over Cortana to Del Rio), he refused to carry out for ethical reasons, and is now a fugitive from the UNSC. This would also explain why his armor is in such bad shape, as the cracked visor implies; there aren't many mechanics outside of ONI that could fix up MJOLNIR armor. Course, this is just me wearing my tin foil hat, so I could very well be wrong.

Overall, Halo 5 is looking to be very interesting. Near as I can tell, there's really only one flaw to it.

It's an Xbox One exclusive.

Yes, like countless thousands of other disgruntled Xbox users, I'm not exactly happy with some of Microsoft's decisions. Yes, Microsoft has agreed to do away with all the DRM policies and mandatory internet connections, but still, it should be noted that Xbox One won't be released until November, and as Totalbiscuit always says, "Beta is Beta." The Xbox One is technically still a work in progress so a lot can potentially change between now and release day. Basically I'm approaching this whole fiasco with a "wait and see" attitude.

I will say though, that if I DO get an Xbox One, I'm keeping a piece of tape over that kinect camera.

Right, now that I've got that little analysis / rant off my chest, onto the chapter!

….

1911 Hours, March 10th, 2683

The Glass Wastes, Surface of Reach

Epsilon Eridani System, Forerunner Cluster

…..

It was an off-putting duality. The sky above was blue, though it would soon take on a pinkish-orange hue as the sun sunk into the horizon. There were large cumulus clouds lazily floating in the sky. The chirping of a single songbird could be heard. If one never looked down, the sky would give the impression of a place of ideal beauty and serenity.

The Glass Wastes were anything but.

The Chief walked through the wastes, the lechatelierite crunching, appropriately, like glass beneath his boots as he went. He looked around as he walked. Nothing for miles around but glass. He could just barely make out a mountain range in the distance that lacked snow on their peaks. He looked up a hill and saw a large, thoroughly-burnt log that was once a tree. Sitting on one of its branches was the songbird, its feathery coat a bright sky blue with a white head and red tail plumage. Chief recognized it as a Viery Bluejay. It was likely resting here before continuing its migration to its species' nesting grounds. As he ascended the hill, the bluejay flew away. Just like that, the Master Chief was now the only living thing in the barren plains of glass. Eventually, he reached the top of the hill and took in a deep breath after seeing what was on the other side of it.

Down the hill and a few hundred feet away were graves. Hundreds upon hundreds of marble tombstones, possibly well over a thousand. There were about a dozen or so benches made from similar marble arranged around the grave site. Next to him was a podium with a plaque on it. Engraved on it was some text.

Stranger, announce to the Spartans that here

We lie, having fulfilled their orders

This was the official grave site of the Spartans. Buried on the same planet they were created on. The Chief took a deep breath before walking downhill towards the graves.

He walked towards the far left side of the field of tombstones, feeling that that was the best place to start. As he got closer, he noticed that the markers were separated into three distinct groups. In the group on the left were the SPARTAN-I's, the Master Chief's predecessors. He walked amongst the tombstones, feeling that he should pay his respects to his forefathers, the first Spartans, while he was here.

First created in 2491, the first generation of Spartans weren't called Spartans at the time. Their creation was dubbed by ONI as the 'ORION Project,' and the soldiers involved were called Orions instead of Spartans. Initially there were only sixty-five candidates, all volunteers, but eventually the program expanded until, in the end, there were three hundred officially registered Spartan-I's. Similar to the SPARTAN-II project's original purpose, the ORION project's aim was to create a fighting force of elite, biologically augmented super-soldiers designed to neutralize insurrectionist threats as efficiently as possible.

Although ORION laid down the groundwork for SPARTAN-II, the program was officially deemed a failure. As effective in battle as they were, the SPARTAN-I's could only do so much. As the years went by, the innies got smarter and became more organized. Insurgents became harder to find and root out. It didn't help that years of war had taken their toll on the older SPARTAN-I's, hence why the program eventually wound up with three-hundred active SPARTAN-I's; to inject some desperately needed new blood into the unit. The older SPARTAN-I's began to show signs of PTSD, and worse, insurrectionist sympathies in some cases. That wasn't even mentioning the severe physical and mental illnesses that occurred later in life for the SPARTAN-I's as a side-effect of the primitive augmentations.

Operation: KALEIDOSCOPE wound up being the final nail in the ORION project's coffin. It was a massive offensive that saw the SPARTAN-I's launching assaults on several innie strongholds all across the outer colonies. The operation itself was a success in that all of those strongholds were eliminated, dealing a heavy blow to the Insurrection's forces. However, it did not have the desired effect of pacifying the Insurrection, of breaking its will to fight. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect; strengthening the innies' resolve. The project was shut down a few years later. Nevertheless, because of their combat-effectiveness, the UNSC decided to use the SPARTAN-I's as a model for the ODST. And of course, they paved the way for John-117 and his kind.

The Master Chief walked by the graves of the SPARTAN-I's, reading their names one by one. They were arranged numerically; ORION Candidate 001, 002, and so on. Above their numerical designation were their full names; Joe Garcia, Anthony Jackson, and so on. He did his best to commit each name and number to memory, though he wasn't entirely sure why wanted to do that. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure why he was in the Glass Wastes at all. That's when he found a SPARTAN-I's name that made him stop dead in his tracks. He blinked, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Candidate 063

Avery Johnson Jr.

Avery Johnson. The Master Chief only knew the Sergeant Major for a few months, a very short time compared to his relationship with the other Spartans. On top of that, Johnson was the complete opposite of a SPARTAN-II. He was loud, foul-mouthed, and prone to go on long-winded rants on how the UNSC was going to win the battle ahead, standing in stark contrast to the Master Chief's ever-stoic ways. By all logic, the two men shouldn't have been able to stand one another, yet they quickly forged an odd friendship. The Chief never thought about it much; he just figured it was a bond forged over the course of multiple battles that were fought together and nothing more. Until now, that is. It suddenly made perfect sense that, despite their clashing personalities, the two of them became fast friends. They were of the same lineage.

Remembering Johnson reminded the Chief of Dr. Halsey's final lesson, the one she taught him just before she disappeared. If he had known that that would be the last time he'd ever see her again, he would've said goodbye. The doctor had studied the footage of the Flood's failed attempt to assimilate Johnson back on Halo, and concluded that his Boren's Syndrome effectively made him immune to Flood infection. She then presented the Chief with a choice; either give ONI the full report of Dr. Halsey's analysis and research of the Flood, or give them a report that excludes Johnson's Flood immunity. If Chief handed in the former report, the chances of ONI Section Three successfully creating a countermeasure to the Flood would be slightly better, but they would most certainly kill Johnson and then dissect him to find out what made him immune. He spent virtually the entirety of Operation FIRST STRIKE agonizing over the decision, whether it was worth it. In the end, he decided it wasn't. He handed the report that didn't mention Johnson's immunity to ONI and destroyed the one that did. He did it because of what Admiral Whitcomb said to him in his final hour; 'just a few good soldiers fighting for what's right made the difference.' In the end, he couldn't condemn Avery Johnson, a good man who helped make the difference, to death. Humanity needed every single good man and woman available to defeat the Covenant.

After marveling at this unexpected discovery for another second, the Chief resumed his march through the graves. Eventually, he saw the names of every SPARTAN-I. Now that he had took the time to honor the first generation, it was time to reunite with his generation, the SPARTAN-II's.

When ONI instated the SPARTAN-II program, they reviewed the ORION project's performance to learn from its shortcomings. As effective as they were, the SPARTAN-I's began to exhibit flaws later on in life, and that didn't just mean the side effects of the augmentations. Many were prone to PTSD, and even Insurrectionist sympathies. While their bodies put them above the average soldier, their minds had all the same weaknesses. Dr. Halsey knew that, and concluded that the ultimate soldier must not only be superior physically, but also psychologically.

That's why every SPARTAN-II candidate was kidnapped at age six. Because ONI didn't need to create a new generation of soldiers. They needed to raise a new generation of soldiers. They needed to teach them, from a very young age, an absolute understanding of war in order to ensure that their minds did not break in the face of horror. The Master Chief was under no illusions about that. He and every other Spartan knew that their upbringing was very different from that of other Humans. The Chief knew that, if he was never conscripted by ONI, his life would have been very different.

It worked. The SPARTAN-II's surpassed the SPARTAN-I's in virtually every way, not only against the innies, but also against the Covenant once the Human-Covenant War broke out. Mission after mission was a success, but as the war went on, the Chief lost more and more of his fellow Spartans, more and more of his family, the people he grew up with. More and more they died, until eventually only he remained, the Last Spartan.

Unsurprisingly, his comrades were all listed numerically, their names above their numbers as with the SPARTAN-I's. As he passed by the names of his old friends one by one, he remembered each of them, both how they lived and how they died. James was a stubborn Spartan who never gave up. He died after his T-pack was hit by a needler round, sending him spiraling into the vacuum of space. Samuel was one of the largest and most cheerful of the Spartans. He died protecting ANVIL-II missiles, which detonated inside the depths of a Covenant frigate. Grace was a calm, serene Spartan that was always at ease and never had much of a temper, despite being an explosive expert. She died at the hands of Jiralhanae guards on the Unyielding Hierophant, but she was given an impromptu funeral pyre by having her fail-safe detonation system in her MJOLNIR armor detonate with some Covenant in the area.

Most of the SPARTAN-II's died in ways where a body could not be found or recovered. Despite what the tombstones implied, the Master Chief knew full well that there was nothing actually beneath the headstones but dirt. He stopped at another tombstone. He read the engravings.

Spartan-117

John

This one was his. He stood there a moment, staring at his own tombstone. He understood why it was here. It was likely that this tombstone had been here for a long time, placed here long before the Chief was awakened from cryo. When that happened, evidently no one had gotten around to removing it. It was a minor task that likely got lost in the sea of red tape and application forms that was bureaucracy, as such tasks are want to do. He continued on after a while. Once he finished paying tribute to his kind, he moved on to the lot on the right, the SPARTAN-III's.

It was only very recently that the Master Chief learned of the SPARTAN-III's existence. After he was awakened from cryo, Cortana mentioned it to him on the way back to Earth. She didn't know much about them, but she knew enough from the declassified historical records that she found in the codex. Apparently their 'old friend' Colonel James Ackerson was the master-mind behind the project. One-on-one, they couldn't hold a candle to SPARTAN-II's like the Chief, but what they lacked in individual strength, they were meant to make up for in numbers. Cortana also told him of how they were routinely sent on suicide missions. The worst one by far was Operation: PROMETHEUS which, while ended in a strategic victory for the UNSC, also resulted in all of Alpha Company being wiped out.

According to Cortana, Dr. Halsey learned of the SPARTAN-III project not long before the Fall of Reach, and wasn't happy about it. While the Chief and the rest of the SPARTAN-II's were getting ready for Operation: RED FLAG, the good doctor was working in ONI Sword Base, secretly studying a Forerunner complex that the Covenant had a vested interest in. She didn't know all the details at the time though, but she knew enough to know that ONI was making other SPARTANS behind her back.

Cortana told Chief about the SPARTAN-III's in order to tell him about one SPARTAN-III in particular; one that Chief, Cortana, and all Humanity owed a great debt to.

NOBLE Team was a fireteam-sized unit created within the SPARTAN-III project. Most of its members were identified early on for their unique talents and were pulled out of their original companies to join this team. During the Fall of Reach, there were six active members. Commander Carter-A259, the leader. Lieutenant Commander Catherine-B320, second-in-command and team technology expert. Warrant Officer Jun-A266, designated marksman. Warrant Officer Emile-A239, assault specialist and grenadier. Chief Warrant Officer Jorge-052, heavy weapons specialist and the only SPARTAN-II on the team. Chief always wondered what happened to Jorge after he was pulled out of the SPARTAN-II program. He remembered Jorge as being one of the more cheerful and sociable Spartans, the kind of person who always tried to look on the bright side of things.

The sixth member was special. Special because she was the one who Cortana picked to carry her. During the Fall of Reach, Cortana was split into two fragments, one on the Pillar of Autumn, and another beneath Sword Base, researching the Forerunner complex there. After finding critical data, Cortana chose Lieutenant Jane-B312, call sign 'Noble Six,' to escort her to the Pillar of Autumn while it was undergoing repairs in Aszod dry dock. The critical data in question?

The location of Installation 04. Cortana revealed that she had, secretly and deliberately, used those coordinates for the Pillar of Autumn's slipspace jump on that fateful day. It was the discovery of Halo that started the chain of events that lead to the war's end and the Covenant's downfall. If Noble Six hadn't made it to that dry dock, Humanity would likely be extinct by now, along with every other sapient race in the galaxy.

In recognition of this, NOBLE Team's graves were located off to the side, separate from the rest of the SPARTAN-III's. There the Chief found Jorge's grave, which made him smile. He wondered why Jorge's grave wasn't with the other SPARTAN-II's. All the NOBLE Team members were buried here, or at least tributed here. Chances were pretty good that most of their bodies couldn't be retrieved. They were, after all, Spartans. There had to have been at least a dozen or so of the tombstones, which didn't surprise the Chief. Cortana had mentioned that, while NOBLE was a six-man fireteam, it went through many members over the years of its operation, most of whom died in battle. It didn't take him long to find Jane's grave. He stood there for a moment, silent. He then crisply saluted.

With that done, he turned back toward the hill where the log was. At the base of the hill was one of the marble benches. He walked over and took a seat. He sat there silently, facing the graves of a thousand Spartans, a thousand of his kin. The sky was beginning to turn pink as Chief looked over his shoulder and saw Epsilon Eridani begin its descent below the horizon.

He turned back towards the graves and sighed. He sat up straight, his hands on his knees. Again, he wasn't really sure why he was here. He wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish from being here. "…..I miss you guys." he quietly said, not knowing what else to say or do.

It was the truth. He longed for their company. Everything in the 27th century was so different. It would have made the transition easier, having old friends around to help him through it. Sadly, that wasn't the hand that fate had dealt him. He was in an unfamiliar galaxy, in a position he wasn't suited for, and completely alone. Not completely, the Chief corrected himself. He still had Cortana. But her operating cycle has lasted four catalogued years now, which meant he had about three more left before she started going rampant. And that was only if the Council didn't find out about her first. One way or another, sooner or later, far sooner than he would like, he would have to let her go. Once she was gone, that would be it. He'd be alone.

You think you are the last of your kind. You think you are utterly alone in the universe. But you are wrong. Though you've yet to fully realize it, you are surrounded by hearts much like your own. Hearts that are as willful, fierce, and wise as your own. You only feel alone because your own heart is so heavily guarded, like every other part of your body.

As the Chief looked down at the ground, he remembered Feros. He remembered how he thought about his team. How, in a few ways at least, they weren't so different from Blue Team. His friends. His family. He remembered thinking that maybe that was what Sha'ira meant. They all had a little Spartan in them.

Then he started reflecting on what happened after that. They stopped acting like Spartans. They started questioning his orders, his leadership style. So he pushed them away. That's how he got captured on Eletania, and his squad had to bail him out.

You think you are the last of your kind. You think you are utterly alone in the universe. But you are wrong.

The Chief thought that what Sha'ira meant was that they weren't so different from the Master Chief, from a Spartan. But now he was starting to rethink that interpretation. The squad weren't Spartans. They were good soldiers, but they weren't Spartans. But maybe what Sha'ira was saying was that that wasn't really a bad thing. The Chief longed to be with the other Spartans again because they were his family.

Maybe what Sha'ira meant was that the crew of the Normandy could also be his family, if he allowed it. They could form a new family, one that was as good as the original. Different, yes, but still just as good.

Chief sighed at that. After such poor leadership on his part, he was wagering that that ship had long since left dry dock.

He lifted up his head as he looked at the graves of the SPARTAN-II's. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so uncertain. Every objective had always been clear, his resolve had never faltered, he had never even considered failing a mission to be a possibility. But that was back when he was a Spartan. He was a Spectre now and, as he explained to Ashley earlier that day, it was an entirely different ball game. It was like appointing the close-quarters combat expert the role of designated marksman. You're giving the job to someone who's not well-suited for it, plain and simple.

It didn't help that Chief's new enemy was unlike anything the Chief had ever fought before. Saren was the first enemy to ever truly get under the Chief's skin. The Insurrectionists called the Chief a traitor, an oppressor, and a UNSC lapdog. He shrugged it off because those insults didn't affect him. The Covenant called him a heretic, a monster and an unholy demon. Again, he shrugged it off because those insults didn't affect him. Saren was different. He knew the Master Chief. He knew his combat history, he knew his friends, he even knew his name. Most of all, he knew his shortcomings. And he used all that knowledge to his advantage on Eletania and succeeded where everyone else failed; he made the Spartan angry enough to make a dumb mistake. Something like that shouldn't have happened. He was trained better than that.

The Master Chief was, quite simply, out of his element. He was lost. Perhaps that's why he came here. He hoped that he would find guidance here.

He saw none. The graves only gave him silence.

He stood up and walked back to the graves of his fellow SPARTAN-II's and stopped. He stood rigidly, his arms at his sides. "….You're all probably wondering why I didn't come to visit sooner." the Chief said. "Well….I've been real busy the last few weeks. I was made a Spectre. Saved a few colonies. Been working with a new team. Haven't had a chance to stop by until now."

The graves remained silent. He didn't expect a verbal response from them, obviously. He didn't even know why he was talking. He remembered Keiichi-047 once telling him how, in Japan, it was a common belief that it was necessary to talk to the spirits of the dead from time to time, lest their souls cease to exist. Thus, it wasn't at all rare to see people talking to graves in Japan or Japanese colonies. Of course, that belief would imply that the spirits would hear what the living said, and even if they could, they couldn't give a verbal response in kind. No matter how you looked at it, the living were still on their own.

Still, despite being fully aware of the lunacy behind it, the Chief went on, if only because he knew not what else to do. A slight breeze began to pick up. "Yeah, I should explain that." Chief said with a sigh. "Without any of you by my side and with the Spartan program having been shut down, I didn't have a team to speak of. But after a while, more and more people wanted to join me. Most of them were aliens, believe it or not. Yeah I know. Strange. But they didn't want to kill me, so I figured it was alright."

"First there's Kaidan. My second-in-command." Chief began. "Nice guy, laid back, think you guys would have liked him. Then there's Ashley. She's good with a variety of different weapons. If she was born in our time and had the right genetic markers, I think she would have made a good Spartan." He paused. "Those are the only two Humans on my team. The rest are aliens. First there's Wrex. Krogan. You know, the big mean reptilian ones?"

He paused again, then shook his head. "I don't think I need to explain too much. Technically, you've all been in this century longer than I have. Anyway he's a Krogan. Good soldier, but bit of an attitude problem. Executed a prisoner without my authorization, but I guess that's just how Krogan are. Then there's Garrus, a Turian. He's my DM and he's a good one. Very good, actually. He's actually been my go-to sniper for a while."

He leaned over and saw Linda's grave a few rows down. "You know Linda, he's almost as good as you."

It was then that the wind suddenly started picking up, shards of lechatelierite running across the ground. "Almost, Linda." Chief assured. "Relax. You're still the best DM I've ever had." The wind began to slowly die down.

"Then there's Tali. Quarian. She's a civilian, so really, she doesn't have any business on the Normandy." the Chief resumed. "But she volunteered, she was a talented engineer, and being a Spectre, there wasn't a rule that said I couldn't let her on board. She even surprised me a while back. Took on a brute and won. She's actually pretty good with a gun, so I let her fight with me. There's Liara, Asari. Our Prothean expert. She's been helpful in trying to help me understand my vision."

He paused. "I should explain that too. I got a vision from a Prothean beacon. It's not really clear yet. All it's told me is that the Protheans were wiped out by sentient machines called 'Reapers.' And Saren is trying to bring them back with something called the Conduit. My mission is to stop him, and the more time goes by, the more I think that understanding that vision is the key to victory. So it's important that Liara remains on the team. Plus, she's also our medic and secondary biotic specialist after Kaidan, so she's useful in a fight."

He sighed. "You're not gonna like the last one. N'tho 'Sraom, hands down the strangest soldier I've got right now. First of all, he's an elite."

The graves remained silent as the breeze continued to blow gently, raising no fuss. "You guys are actually alright with that, huh?" he asked. "I guess you would be. You've probably known about the truce for a while now. Well, I haven't quite gotten used to it yet."

He paused. "N'tho is young, inexperienced and reckless. Insubordinate too. Really, I should have kicked him off a while ago, but he's good at what he does." He chuckled. "He actually acts more like a Human than you would think. Hell, ironically he's the most Human alien on the team. Apparently, after all the cultural exchange we had with them, a lot of elites decided they liked Human culture and started acting like us after a while. It's weird."

He paused and took a few deep breaths. He wasn't sure what else to say. "They're good. I wouldn't have kept them on board for so long if they weren't." Chief began to explain. "But….well…..they're not you guys. They questioned my orders, they were insubordinate…" he trailed off. "They weren't Spartans. They weren't my family." he said.

He paused. He thought. "But I think they tried to be." he noted. "I kept Cortana a secret from the crew. I couldn't risk the Council finding out about her. I couldn't lose her. Garrus tried to tell me I should tell the crew about Cortana, to trust the crew more. I pushed him away. Maybe he was trying to help me. If he was, he wasn't the only one. Liara's been offering a listening ear, to let me vent. Get some things off my chest. Then Ashley came and tried to pull me out of this funk, and she came close. I might not even be here right now if she hadn't dragged me to that colosseum."

He rubbed his throat. "As you might have noticed, I'm talking a lot more than I usually do. That's because I've been doing a lot more talking these days. Guess when you're a Spectre, you've got a lot more to say than a Spartan does."

He paused. "I failed my last mission." he said. "I…I had Saren. He was in my custody. But he slipped away because I made a bad decision. I tried to take him on alone. I kept mission-critical data to myself because I didn't trust my team enough with it, and it wound up captured and then destroyed." He paused again. "Same thing almost happened to me. I was captured and almost destroyed. I'd be a corpse on a dissection table by now if my team hadn't rescued me when they did. Wish you guys could have seen them. I couldn't see them cuz I was strapped to a table at the time, but from what Cortana told me later, they went in with a plan and executed like a well-oiled machine. When they freed me, we fought together, like a good team should."

He averted his gaze slightly downwards. "They found out about Cortana. The whole crew did. I doubt they trust me anymore. Whole thing's got me wondering if I'm even cut out to be a Spectre. I've got responsibilities now that I never had to worry about as a Spartan. Makes me wonder how Keyes, Cole and Hood all did it."

He raised his gaze back towards the graves. "What am I supposed to do?" Chief asked.

The graves gave him no answer. Only silence.

The Chief dropped his gaze again, unsure of what else to say. He had confessed all of his problems to his old friends, the burdens of leadership and his failure to live up to them. Now what? It's not as though they could respond. As he continued staring at the graves, he remembered all the times he shared with them.

….

Sam and Kelly walked up to John. Sam shoved him. John's temper flared. He wanted to hit Sam in the face, but he was too tired. He needed all his strength to get to the bell. "You better help us." Sam hissed. "Or I'll push you off one of those platforms!"

"And I'll jump on top of you!" Kelly added.

"Okay." John whispered. "Just try not to slow me down."

….

"What do you wanna do?" Kelly asked him. John wondered why she thought he had an answer. He looked around and saw everyone was watching him, waiting for him to speak. He shifted on his feet. He had to say something.

"Okay. We don't know who these men are, or what they'll do when they see us. So we find out." The Children nodded, seeming to think this was the right thing to do. "Here's how." John told them. "First, I'll need a rabbit…."

….

John whistled the singsong six-note melody and called: "Oly Oly Oxen Free!"

Red Team emerged first and marched across the meadow. Kelly paused to kick one of the men in the head; she took his rifle, too.

Linda and Fred dropped down from a tree branch and ran across the field. "Oly Oly Oxen Free!" Linda repeated, grinning from ear to ear. "All out in the free! We're all free!"

….

He turned to face Fhajad and the others. He snapped to attention and saluted. Fhajad managed to raise one shaking arm and return the salute. The orderlies wheeled him away.

….

"Don't waste time talking." Sam said. "Our new friends aren't gonna wait for us while we figure this out."

He started the timers. "There. It's decided." A three-minute countdown appeared in the corners of their heads-up displays. "Now get going you two."

John clasped Sam's hand and squeezed it. Kelly hesitated, then saluted. John turned and grabbed her arm. "Come on, Spartan. Don't look back."

….

John set a hand on Kurt's shoulder, searching for the right words.

Kelly, as usual, articulated the sentiments that John never could. She said "Welcome to Blue, Spartan. We're going to make a great team."

These memories stirred up another memory. It was November 2nd, 2525. The day he and the other SPARTAN-II's were officially briefed on the emergence of a new threat to the UNSC; the Covenant. It was also the last time he ever saw Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez, the man who made John what he was today. He remembered the Chief's parting words well.

Recruits. Soon, your training will be complete, and you will graduate to the rank of Petty Officer second class in the UNSC. One of the first things you will learn is that change is part of a soldier's life. You will make and lose friends. You will move. This is part of the job.

John put on a small smile. "Cortana was right." he said. "The more things change, the more they really do stay the same."

He snapped off a crisp salute at the assorted tombstones. "Thanks guys." John said before walking away from the graves.

….

It was dusk by the time the Master Chief returned from the Glass Wastes. The sun was gone and the sky had taken the dark blue hue of early night. Though Reach was well known throughout Council Space for its beautiful night sky, of its global aurora borealis and its awe-inspiring moons Csodaszarvas and Turul, none of those things were visible tonight. A blanket of clouds had rolled in over New Alexandria, and a light drizzle had begun.

Chief walked up the concourse back towards the starport where the Normandy was docked. Civilians walked by him and payed him significantly less notice than they did earlier that day, probably because he wasn't wearing his iconic armor that made him stand out. Despite the advantage of not getting stared at, odd looks from strangers was something he was willing to tolerate if it meant being ready for battle at all times.

Up ahead was a girl. She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall of some nameless building with a large overhang to shield her from the rain. She had fair skin, full lips, and long brown hair. She was playing on an acoustic guitar and singing, the open guitar case on the ground in front of her containing some credits. Chief immediately identified her as a street performer. She probably had difficulty finding a job, and so sought to turn a profit on a combination of her own talent and faith in other people's generosity.

She was a very good singer. He liked her choir-like voice. It was subdued, yet powerful at the same time. As he walked by, he fished some credits out of his pocket and dropped them in the guitar case. The young woman nodded her thanks as she kept singing. As the Chief walked on, he listened to the song she sang.

Hope can drown

Lost in thunderous sound

Fear can claim

What little faith remains

But I carry strength from souls now gone

They won't let me give in...

I will never surrender

We'll free the Earth and sky

Crush my heart into embers

And I will reignite…

….

"Hey Master Chief." Joker greeted without looking up from his console as the Spartan came out of the airlock and onto the bridge. That surprised Chief. Yes, the pilot was no doubt familiar with his footfall by now, but that was when Chief was wearing his armor. It should have been much lighter now without it. "So, how'd the date with Ashley go?" Joker said as he looked over his shoulder.

"It wasn't a date." Chief replied.

"Uh-huh." Joker replied. "Anyway, Lawrence wanted to let you know that a special package from ONI came today."

"What kind of package?" Chief asked.

"A big and heavy one." Joker answered. "Had him spooked too. Kept saying that they must be up to something if they were giving you free stuff."

The Chief wasn't surprised. Even back in the 26th century, few people outside of ONI trusted the organization. Once again, the more things change, the more they stay the same. "Where is it?" he asked.

"In the garage." Joker replied as he turned back to whatever he was working on. "Huge crate with yellow tape. Can't miss it."

With a nod, the Chief marched down the bridge and past the CIC to the stairs leading down to deck two and took the elevator down to deck three. Sure enough, there was a very large crate with yellow tape located next to the mako. As the Chief approached it, he noted the pyramid with the open eye at its top, confirming where it came from. He also noted the 'OPEN FROM THIS SIDE' text below the pyramid.

After ripping off the yellow tape, he pressed a red button that was located near the upper right-hand corner of the crate. As soon as he pressed it, the button went from red to green as the bolt from that corner popped out of its socket with an audible ping and flew a few feet before landing on the floor. After doing the same thing with the other four corners, he removed the now loose side of the crate, gently moving it aside. With the side gone, he looked inside the crate.

Inside were what looked like a pair of wardrobes. On the left side were a series of drawers and on the other side was a closet door, both made from some kind of plastic. He pulled out one of the drawers and was surprised to find a pair of SAW's. He pulled out another drawer and found a railgun similar to the one Wrex used back at the training course in the Highland Mountains. He pulled the drawer on the very bottom and found a very rare Covenant weapon; a type-52 guided munitions launcher, aka the plasma launcher. On top of it was a datapad. Curious, the Chief picked up the datapad and read it.

To Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117

First, let me begin by saying welcome to the 27th Century and congratulations on making it into the Spectres. I regret not having been able to welcome and congratulate you sooner, just as I regret not being able to welcome and congratulate you in person. However, the circumstances surrounding both of our current stations make it so that this will likely be the only communication the two of us will have, at least for the time being.

I have been watching you closely since your reinstatement back into active duty, and I am pleased to say that you are everything I always imagined you to be. Everything Humanity always imagined you to be. You're exactly the kind of man we need, especially in times as trying and uncertain as these.

However, it has been brought to my attention that you've recently experienced a setback in your campaign. Your mission on Eletania was deemed a failure by the Citadel Council. While they did not take you off the hunt for Saren, they did hand the mission to find and secure Halo to Spectre Jondum Bau. Now to his credit, Bau is a talented Spectre. However, we both know that you are more qualified for that particular mission than any other Spectre, living or dead. The Council's decision disappointed me, but I can't honestly say it surprised me.

I'm afraid I can not do anything to change the minds of the Council, but there is something else I can help you with. It has also been brought to my attention that your armor suffered significant damage during your altercation with Saren Arterius. As soon as this was noted, I ordered that a new, custom-built suit of MJOLNIR armor be made specifically for you. It wasn't difficult, as it was partially based on a prototype armor design we were already working on. It was completed in just over a day. It still amazes me how much you can do in so little time when there are no bureaucracies or politics to keep you chained.

Anyway, you'll find the armor in the closet portion of this crate, provided you haven't found it in there already. It comes with all the usual bells and whistles you've come to expect; a fully-functional omni-tool, internal and external medi-gel / biofoam injectors, energy shield systems, hydrostatic gel, most of it should be intimately familiar to you by now. However, it comes with a few new features. The armor proudly boasts an M805X Forward Acceleration System, an M2705 Regenerative Kinetic Dispersal Field, a Type-27 Responsive Holographic Form Emulator, and a Z-2500 Automated Protection Drone. Acquiring that fourth armor system was admittedly quite difficult for reasons that will be obvious as soon as you use it. Additionally, the plating of the armor itself has been reinforced by polycrystalline-composites, making it considerably more resistant to biotics and other types of incoming projectiles than your old armor was. You may also notice minor details in the armor's design that are both aesthetic and pragmatic, details that may not be obvious to the average civilian but should garner a fair appreciation from a soldier as experienced as you. Strapped to the armor's left thigh is a monomolecular combat knife capable of stabbing and slashing through shields, kinetic barriers and a Geth's chassis. Finally in addition to the armor, several different kinds of heavy weaponry have been included in this package, just for good measure. It never hurts to bring a little extra firepower to the fight.

By now, you've no doubt noticed that the tone of this letter is unusually informal by ONI standards. Well, there's a reason for that. This package didn't come from ONI at all. Yes, this crate was clearly labeled as an ONI package, but only so that it could find its way onto your ship without raising too much suspicion. All things considered, it would be better if I did not divulge who I am at this time. For now, let's say that I am simply a man who wants nothing more than for your mission to succeed. Good luck, and know that no matter where you go, Humanity is proud to call you one of our own.

Regards,

A Friend from Afar

Once he finished reading the datapad, he paused. If this package didn't come from ONI, where did it come from? No other organization would have the resources to construct and deliver a custom-built set of MJOLNIR armor. Suspicious, he briskly walked back over to the elevator and punched the switch.

As soon as he arrived back on deck two, he marched with purpose to the med bay. Dr. Chakwas wasn't there as he made his way to the storage room, but sure enough, there was Liara sitting at her computer as usual. Cortana's avatar floated from the keyboard. Liara looked over her shoulder and jumped.

"Gah!" she yelped as she jumped out of her chair. "Who are you?!"

"It's me." Chief replied.

"…..Master Chief?" Liara asked, recognizing his voice. "Oh….OH! By the Goddess, I am so sorry. It's just, I didn't recognize you without the helmet-"

"Apology accepted. I need Cortana for a minute." Chief quickly replied.

"Alright." Cortana said. She turned to the Asari. "Yank me."

"Um, very well." Liara replied before gently withdrawing Cortana's data crystal from her computer and handing it to the Chief. He quickly snatched the crystal and walked away, plugging it into his omni-tool.

"I get the feeling that we may have a crisis on our hands." Cortana said as her avatar appeared over the Spartan's omni-tool.

"Possibly." Chief replied. "We got a package from ONI that contains heavy weaponry and a new set of MJOLNIR armor."

"Well that's good news." Cortana cheerfully replied. "Now you won't have to go buy one of those generic commercial armors. I mean, they're pretty good for an ordinary Human, but I we both know you're no ordinary Human."

"Except it's not actually from ONI." the Chief said as he approached elevator. The door opened and he stepped inside.

"What do you mean?" Cortana asked as the Chief punched the button to take the elevator down.

"There was a letter in the package that explicitly said it wasn't from ONI, but didn't mention who it was from." Chief replied as the elevator began its descent. "I checked the package and there were heavy weapons. Didn't check for the armor yet. I'm thinking it could be booby-trapped."

"That does sound suspicious." the AI admitted. "Still, one has to wonder, if someone is trying to smuggle an unpleasant surprise on your ship, why leave a letter saying it's not from known friends but rather an anonymous benefactor? Seems like that would give the game away."

"What other explanation is there?" Chief asked.

"That someone with surprisingly good connections sincerely wants to help you on the down low?" Cortana suggested.

"Maybe. But I'd like to be sure." he said as the elevator ceased its descent and opened up. The Chief walked into the garage and up to the crate. "I need you to scan this crate. Rigged explosives, listening or tracking devices, anything that's amiss."

"Sure thing. Just hold me up to it." Cortana said. Chief held up his omni-tool to the crate. Cortana spun on her heels and rubbed her chin in thought as the Spartan saw lines of code running across her holographic body as she ran her analysis. "I got nothin'." Cortana said as the lines of code stopped running. She looked over her shoulder at the Chief. "It's clean."

"No traps?" Chief asked.

"No traps, no bugs, no nothing." Cortana replied with a shrug. "Believe me, if there were anything of the sort, I would have detected it."

She smirked. "Go ahead and open that closet. I think you'll like what's inside."

Chief looked up to the closet compartment of the crate. He grabbed the handle and cautiously opened it. What he saw left him awe-struck.

"That's an incredibly advanced MJOLNIR upgrade." Cortana pointed out. "You sure this didn't come from ONI?"

"That's what the datapad said." Chief said as he reached into the drawer and held up the datapad to Cortana. It only took her a few seconds to read it.

"Interesting." Cortana said. "Well, whoever sent it, I wish they left a return address. I would have sent a thank you note."

…..

There were strange-looking people, aliens maybe, suffering.

Metal being welded to flesh.

Minds being tormented.

Blood splattering on the ground.

Screeching of the damned.

Eyes that spoke eons of malice.

Odd-looking energy weapons firing up at giants.

Cries of defiance.

Never submit.

Never give up.

Move.

A star.

A planet.

A light in the darkness.

A monster.

A roar.

"We are your salvation through destruction."

Move with purpose.

…

Chief opened his eyes and groaned, rubbing them. "You had the dream again, didn't you?" Cortana asked.

"Yeah." Chief replied. He thought back to the dream and realized something.

Odd-looking energy weapons firing up at giants.

Cries of defiance.

Never submit.

Never give up.

Move.

"But there was something new." Chief said.

"Oh?" Cortana asked.

"I think I saw the Protheans fighting back." Chief said.

…

0748 Hours, March 11th, 2683

New Alexandria, Surface of Reach

Epsilon Eridani System, Forerunner Cluster

…..

After having breakfast, the Chief told Liara of the newest development in his vision. Liara said that it was a good sign, that the Cipher was doing its job. The Chief was now able to comprehend a part of the vision that he couldn't before. The Chief didn't quite get that. Resistance? Defiance? Fighting back? Being a Spartan, it seemed like the Chief should have comprehended that part of the vision very easily, Cipher or no Cipher. In any case, this new detail offered no further clues to the Conduit's function or its precise whereabouts, making it functionally useless. Not to mention that the vision was still incomplete. His subconscious mind could analyze the vision all it wants, but until he finds another, more well-preserved Prothean beacon, he's still only seeing half of the picture.

After that, Cortana called him back to his quarters. She said that she had made some calls the previous night and that Chief had a meeting with someone in New Alexandria, specifically at the Museum of the Great War. The Chief walked down the concourse, passing various different civilians in all kinds of clothes and shops selling all kinds of items. He noted that last night's rain had stopped, though the sky was still very cloudy, implying that it might start again at any moment. Eventually, he arrived at a fence that looked out on the museum itself.

It was massive, for one. A massive stone structure with a wide set of steps that lead up to the entrance, which was lined with stone pillars that looked to be nearly fifty feet high each. In front of the museum was an incredibly large plaza, in the center of which was a marble statue of a SPARTAN-II that was easily twenty feet high, standing proudly in the middle of a large fountain whose bottom was littered with credit chits. The whole thing looked more like a temple than a museum.

Oddest of all were a couple of stands set up around the plaza, specifically two large ones on opposite side of the plaza. The one on the left was a large booth around which many New Alexandria citizens congregated. It was run by an odd assortment of Humans, Sangheili, and Salarians. He even spied an odd-looking Turian handing out juice of some kind. He noted that, unlike most of the Turians he had seen so far, that one lacked prominent head fringes and had a more rounded face with a smaller body frame. Apparently, that's what female Turians looked like. The various people working at the stand were handing out datapads and talking with whatever citizens happened to walk by. He looked at the banner hung over the long booth, and noted its design. On the far left end of the banner was the aft section of a ship sticking out of a portal, and on the far right was the bow section of that same ship sticking out of a similar portal. In between the two images were the words Slip to the Future.

The Chief turned to the other end of the plaza. That booth too was very long and was run by people handing out juice and datapads to whoever was interested. However, the atmosphere on that end of the plaza was much rowdier than on the other side. Mostly because of the people walking around in a circle some distance away, holding up their omni-tools to the sky to project large, holographic signs and messages. The Spartan could pick out 'Remember Harvest,' Remember Reach,' and 'Remember Shanxi' among the signs, as well as 'We Bleed Red' and 'No Blood for Aliens.' Unlike the other booth, everyone working this booth were Humans. No aliens at all. The banner above the booth read Terra Firma, accompanied by an image of Earth in the background of the banner.

"What am I looking at here?" Chief asked.

"Political rallies, by the looks of them." Cortana answered. "According to the city's codex, this plaza is actually a pretty popular congregation site for political rallies and interest groups. Guess that big statue of you gives people the impression that this is a good spot to rally around. Anyway, the gathering on the left is Slip to the Future, a pro-slipspace interest group. On the right is Terra Firma, a pro-Human political party within the Alliance."

"Think I'll take a closer look at them." Chief said as he spotted a flight of his stairs to his right and made his way down.

"Didn't think you were interested in politics, Chief." Cortana commented.

"Normally I'm nod, but I'm actually kinda curious." Chief replied. "Besides, my mystery meeting isn't for another hour. Gotta do something interesting to kill the time. You still haven't told me who I'm meeting with, by the way."

"I told you, it's a surprise." Cortana said. "I'll tell you more once we're in the museum."

As the Chief arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he decided to head left of the fountain, to visit the Slip to the Future booth first. As he approached, a Salarian with deep green skin spotted him coming and smiled as he walked over. "Greetings sir!" he excitedly said. "My name is Drillin Gruceme. Are you interested in slipping your way into a better tomorrow?" he asked.

Cortana groaned into the Chief's earpiece. He looked up at the Slip to the Future banner. "So, slipspace interest group, huh?"

"Right you are, marine." Drillin said, apparently noting that the Chief was wearing Alliance marine overalls. "Slip to the Future is a non-profit organization that seeks to repeal the Citadel Council's slipspace ban."

Chief looked over to all the other Salarians working the booth along with the Turian girl handing out juice. "Didn't think anyone in the Citadel races were in favor of slipspace." he noted.

"Yeah, we get that from a lot of Humans." Drillin said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess it's not exactly well-known around these parts that the Council's decision to ban slipspace wasn't unanimous."

"It wasn't?" Chief asked as he looked back at Drillin. "Who voted against the ban?"

"Councilor Xiop, the Salarian Councilor at the time." Drillin replied. "He saw right away the potential of the new technology. Unfortunately, he was outvoted two to one by Turian Councilar Larnev and Asari Councilor Tevos. They thought it was too dangerous."

"So the Salarian Union supports slipspace legalization?" Chief asked, surprised that one of the Council races wanted the technology.

"Yep." Drillin cheerfully answered. "Problem is, the Asari Republics and Turian Hierarchy don't. You need at least two Council races supporting the same thing if you want it legal. Sadly, the power dynamic hasn't shifted much in the last thirty years. Councilor Valern took over after Xiop died, and he supports slipspace just as strongly as Xiop did. Tevos is still around, and she's probably still gonna be around for a couple more centuries, being an Asari and all. Her opinion hasn't changed. After Larnev died, Slip to the Future hoped that a more open-minded Turian would take over as Councilor. Course, that hope died when Sparatus was appointed. He's a FIrst Contact War veteran, so he's not likely to support anything that will directly benefit Humans."

The young Salarian smiled. "That's why we strongly support the Human Systems Alliance in their efforts to snag a Council seat. Once a Human gets inducted into the Council, it'll level the playing field in our favor. And now that a Human has made it into the Spectres, it won't be much longer now."

"….You really like to talk politics." Chief noted after Drillin told him a whole bunch of details that the Spartan didn't really ask for.

"Heh. Sorry. Political science major. Can't really help it." Drillin apologized.

"It's alright." Chief replied. "So you support the Alliance in their bid for a Council position?"

"Yup!" Drillin cheerfully replied.

"Well it wouldn't exactly shift the vote in your favor. Once the Alliance makes it in, then the vote would be two to two; a tie." Chief pointed out.

"Tie's better than losing." Drillin replied with a shrug. "It's a step in the right direction. Don't worry though, because we don't plan on stopping there. Once Humans become a Council race, we'll start focusing on spreading our message to Sangheilios and Eayn."

Chief raised his eyebrow. "The Sangheili and the Kig-Yar? Why try to appeal to them?"

"Don't tell me that you think Humans are the only species hot for a Council position." Drillin began with a smirk. "The Kig-Yar and the Sangheili are also eyeing the Council. The fourth Council seat is already as good as yours, but chair number five is still up for grabs. Both the Sangheili Empire and Kig-Yar Confederacy have voiced their support for slipspace legalization, so if one of those races makes it into the Council, it'll make the final slipspace vote three to two."

Chief nodded in thought. This was probably part of the Alliance's plan, now that he thought about it. Once Humanity gets into the Council, they will start endorsing ally species for additional Council seats, garnering more power in their favor. However, a thought occurred to him. "Which of the two species do you think is more likely to get the fifth Council seat?" Chief asked.

"Honestly?" Drillin asked. "I think the Kig-Yar have a more realistic chance of getting into the Council. They're natural experts in economics, politics, and law, kinda like the Volus. See, the Volus were actually among the first species to settle on the Citadel. They're masters of trade; they not only established trade routes between the Asari and Salarians, as well as all the other Citadel races as they were inducted one by one, they invented the galactic credit currency system. They would have gotten their own Council seat a long time ago, if not for one thing."

Drillin paused. The Chief raised an eyebrow.

"Er, aren't ya gonna ask what that one thing is?" Drillin asked.

"Aren't ya gonna tell me?" Chief asked in turn.

"Point taken. Unlike the Volus, the Kig-Yar have a robust military." Drillin finally said. "I don't wanna sound mean, but the one thing the Kig-Yar have that the Volus don't is a military that's actually worth a damn. Their fleets might not be the biggest, but Kig-Yar crews are among the most efficient and organized crews in Citadel Space."

"What about the Sangheili?" Chief asked. "Their military is even stronger."

"True. The Empire has fleets that are easily on par with the Turians'. Thing is, that's all they've really got going for them. Combat is their strong suit, not business or politics. Sangheili just can't wheel and deal the way Kig-Yar can."

Drillin paused as he rubbed his chin in thought. "Though, in addition to voicing support for repealing the slipspace ban, the Empire has also voiced open support for the Alliance in its efforts to get a Council seat. Maybe they're hoping you'll put in a good word for them once you're in?"

Chief honestly hoped that the Alliance would do just that. He still wasn't entirely sure about the former- Covenant races, but if forced to choose, he would rather see power be bestowed upon noble warriors and steadfast allies of Humanity rather than cannibalistic space pirates. "Couldn't help but notice you didn't mention the Yanme'e Hives at all." Chief pointed out.

"I don't think the Yanme'e are really interested in a Council seat." Drillin replied with a shake of his head. "They're kinda like the Hanar and the Elcor. They don't really have any huge political ambitions as a species. They seem to be content where they are, at least for now."

It was then that a young Human male wearing a Slip to the Future t-shirt jogged up to Drillin. "Uh, Drillin? We've got a situation in the back?" he asked for help, not sure if he should be asking for help or not.

Drillin nodded before turning back to the Chief. "If you have more questions or would like to donate, go talk to Corona. She's the Turian girl handing out juice and pamphlets." he said before walking over to join the Human with whatever problem needed solving. Shrugging, the Chief walked over to to where the Turian girl, Corona, was handing out drinks, datapads and was having friendly conversations with interested people. She had just finished up talking to another Human when she walked over to the him. Like all Turians, she had a facial tatoo; this one was a yellow circle on her forehead, with five yellow lines extending from it all the way down to her jaw-line. She subtly spread her mandibles in what the Spartan by now recognized as a Turian smile.

"Anything I can help you with sir?" she cheerfully asked. He pointed to a neaby stack of datapads. Nodding, she grabbed one and handed it to the Chief. He began going through it, realizing this was a pamphlet.

"I was talking with that green Salarian a minute ago. He told me what you guys were all about." the Chief said.

"Yeah, that's Drillin." Corona replied. "He's in charge of this little operation. Greets people, tells them who we are and what we stand for, he's even good with the logistics. Not surprised. Salarians are expert multi-taskers."

"I still have a few questions if you don't mind." the Spartan said.

Corona looked up and down the booth. "Well, I got no one else to talk to right now, so shoot." she said.

"Drillin mentioned you accept donations. Where does the money go?" Chief asked.

"Some of it goes to slipspace research foundations." Corona answered. "The rest go towards funding the election campaigns of pro-slipspace politicians."

Chief nodded in acknowledgement. "Drillin also mentioned the importance of the Alliance getting the fourth Council seat." he commented as he began reading the pamphlet on the datapad.

"Oh yeah. This organization might have started on Sur'kesh, but on the Citadel, the Alliance is the one doing all the heavy lifting in the fight for slipspace legalization." Corona replied with a firm nod of her head. "Thing is, once the Humans get on the Council, that won't turn the tide in our favor. It'll just turn the slipspace vote into a draw. It'll be a step forward, but we need more than that. That's why Drillin says we need to start supporting the Kig-Yar and Sangheili next once the Humans make it into the Council. Personally, I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?" Chief asked.

"Unlike the Humans, the Sangheili and the Kig-Yar don't have any Spectres yet. That needs to happen before they can even think about a Council position. Trouble is, while the rules say any Citadel race can be a Spectre, only individuals from one of the Council races ever make the cut. That one Human, the 'Master Chief' everyone's always going on about? He only got in because he got lucky."

"So what do you think needs to happen to shift the power in your favor?" Chief asked.

"I think we need to focus on drumming up some support on Palaven and the other Turian worlds. And before you get the wrong idea, no, I'm not just saying that because I'm a Turian." Corona answered. "Human and Salarian support for slipspace is already in the bag. The Asari Republics might change their minds at some point, but Tevos was one of the councilors who voted down slipspace to begin with, and she's shown no sign of changing her mind since then. Since Tevos isn't likely to leave her office for a few centuries, our best bet of legalizing slipspace technology in the near future is to win Turian support. That old bareface Sparatus won't be Councilor forever. If we get a pro-slipspace Turian into the next Councilor position, Tevos will be outvoted on the issue three to one."

"Sounds like you disagree with Drillin on how to meet your goals." Chief observed, hoping it didn't mean division in their ranks.

"Kind of, but not really." Corona replied with a shrug. "Right now, we're going with an 'all of the above' solution. We've got stations on Turian, Kig-Yar and Sangheili worlds. We're letting the Kig-Yar and Sangheili know that we'll have their backs if and when their numbers come up and we're trying to convince my people that slipspace wasn't invented by evil Humans with a serious murder-boner for dead Turians."

"Nice to see not every Turian is so close-minded." Chief tried at an honest compliment.

"Condemning slipspace was easily the stupidest thing the Hierarchy ever did." Corona adamantly stated. "They looked at this amazing FTL technology and what did they do? They labeled it 'too dangerous to use.'"

She looked around, then leaned in closer to the Chief once she was sure there was no one else within earshot. "If you believe some rumors…" she began in a low, hushed voice. "Some mercenaries hired by big eezo companies sabotaged the Perdition right before the Pheiros Incident. Since shaw-fujikawa drives didn't need to run on element zero, slipspace tech threatened the eezo companies' bottom-line. Fucking corporations, am I right?"

Chief nodded. He continued flipping through the pamphlet. "So, how do I-"

He lost his words as soon as he saw an image of a man. A very familiar-looking man. He looked to be of Indian descent, and was restricted to a wheelchair. The image aroused an old memory.

He turned to face Fhajad and the others. He snapped to attention and saluted. Fhajad managed to raise one shaking arm and return the salute. The orderlies wheeled him away.

He showed the image to Corona. "Who's this?" he demanded.

"Oh him?" Corona asked. "That's Lieutenant Commander Fhajad-084. He was ONI's foremost slipspace expert during the early 26th century."

"Slipspace expert?" Chief asked.

"Yep." Corona cheerfully answered. "He wrote a paper on dimensional mass and space compressions in slipstream space in 2540. The paper later appeared in the UNSC Astrophysics Journal. It's practically required reading in the higher echelons of our organization. The Human-Covenant War hero Captain Jacob Keyes read the paper and used Fhajad's theories to effectively detect incoming Covenant forces prior to the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV. After that, Fhajad received additional funding from the UNSC for additional slipspace research. The discoveries he made form the foundation of modern slipspace translocation technology."

"….Why's he in a wheelchair?" Chief asked, though he already knew the answer.

"That's a story all its own." Corona answered. "There's a reason his name came with a number. He was one of the volunteers who signed up for the SPARTAN-II project. He was going to be a Spartan, like the Master Chief. Sadly, the augmentation procedures didn't have a one-hundred percent success rate. He was one of the unlucky ones. Something went wrong with his nervous system and he was diagnosed with Fletcher's Syndrome shortly afterwards. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, but that didn't make him any less brilliant."

The last time Chief ever saw Fhajad was when he was wheeled out of a room by a pair of orderlies, with nothing to comfort him but a promise from CPO Mendez that, though he can no longer fight, he will still serve. Turns out, Mendez was right. Fhajad may not have went on to be a soldier, but he still went on to be a shining example of Humanity.

Chief smiled as he turned to Corona. "He sounded like a great man." he said.

"He was." Corona said with a nod. "Trust me. I did a biography report on him last fall."

Chief snapped on his omni-tool. "So, how do I donate?"

"Just send some money to . Even if you only have a single credit to spare, it would be appreciated." Corona said.

"I'll give more than that." Chief said. "How does eight hundred forty sound?"

Corona's eyes widened at that. "That's…..that's the largest donation anyone has made all day! I think that entitles you to several-"

"No prizes." Chief said as he made the transaction. "I'm just helping a good cause."

"…Thank you." Corona said with a grateful bow. "Feel free to keep that datapad, by the way."

"I plan to. Thank you." Chief said as he tucked the data pad into his pocket and walked away.

"Eight hundred forty." Cortana idly commented into his earpiece. "Eight-four-zero. Oh wait, maybe more like zero-eight-four? Tribute to an old friend, I take it?"

"It's a cause he'd get behind." Chief replied as he continued walking towards the other side of the plaza.

"Wait…." Cortana said as she noticed the direction in which the Chief was walking. "Please don't tell me you're going to do what I think you're going to do."

"Got another forty minutes to kill." Chief replied. "Might as well hear what they've got to say too."

"Chief, no." Cortana said. "I've done some research on these guys and, trust me, you really don't want to be involved with Terra Firma."

"They can't be that bad." Chief said as he approached the Terra Firma booths. He saw the booth attendants handing out datapads and the picketers marching in a circle behind those booths. As he walked over, he noticed a man wearing long pants and a t-shirt walk over.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Cortana replied. The man approaching the Chief had raven-black hair and a mustache / goatee combo to match, as well as tanned skin. He smiled as he took the Chief's hand and pumped it heartily with a smile.

"Always an honor to meet an Alliance marine." he greeted in what sounded like a light southern North American accent. "What's your name and rank, son?"

"Petty Officer Steven Downes." Chief said, making up a name completely off the top of his head. He was incognito at the moment, and he preferred to stay that way. "And you are?"

"Ah yes. Probably should've given you my name and rank first. Apologies." the man replied. "I'm Charles Saracino of the Terra Firma Party. With Armistice Day coming soon, we're making our voices heard by the alien appeasers here in New Alexandria. Can I count on your support in the next election?"

"Armistice Day?" Chief asked.

"The anniversary of the end of the First Contact War. We're holding a protest this year, as we have for the last twenty-six years. The war taught Humanity a lesson that many would forget; we don't stand up for ourselves, no one else will."

"So what are you running for?" Chief asked.

"I'm seeking one of the five spacer seats in Parliament. They have certain baroque conditions for a citizen to be able to vote for them. You have to spend more than six months a year in space, but you can't have stayed in more than one settled system a month." Saracino smirked. "You spend most of your time in space, don't you Petty Officer?"

"That I do." Chief admitted. He spared a glance at the booth. "Never paid much attention to politics though. What's Terra Firma's platform?"

Saracino straightened up, tucking his arms behind his back. "Our core value is that Earth must stand firm against alien influences; politically, culturally, and in the worst case, militarily."

"I've heard a nasty rumor or two about your party." Chief pointed out, remembering a conversation he had with Ashley and Kaidan a couple of weeks ago over a game of poker. "Apparently, a lot of your supporters are racist."

"Well, I can't deny that some of our supporters have extreme views." Saracino conceded. "But our platform is also supported by economists, sociologists, and medical professionals. And before you point it out, no, I don't curtail the comments of our more extreme supporters, and I choose not to on principal. Whether I disagree with them or not, they have the right to express their opinion."

"Fair enough." Chief replied. He took a moment to think. "Truth be told, I've never been really satisfied with some of the decisions the Alliance has made in the last few decades."

"That a fact?" Saracino asked with a smile and hands on his hips.

"It's mostly all the concessions they made to the Council." Chief admitted. "I like peace too, but was so much sacrifice really necessary?"

"The answer is a definitive no." Saracino adamantly replied. "No peace is worth Humanity's pride as a species. The Council imposed the AI and slipspace bans because they were scared of us, scared of what we might do if left unopposed. So they initiated the bans in the hopes of slowing down Human expansion across the galaxy."

The Terra Firma candidate smiled. "I'm actually rather torn. On the one hand, the Alliance should have never conceded to those bans. On the other hand, with all the progress we've made, expanding our territory into the Attican Traverse and Skyllian Verge, it would seem that the bans ultimately did very little to curb Human growth. I cannot deny a certain smug satisfaction from accomplishing so much in spite of the bans."

"Well, we are Humans." Chief replied with a shrug. "Rising to the challenge is in our nature. Maybe we took the bans as that; a challenge."

Saracino chuckled heartily. "You may well be right." he admitted with a point of his finger. "Still, while some challenges should be taken up, there are others that we should just walk away from. I feel that the bans fell in the latter category. I promise you, if elected to parliament, I won't let the alien appeasers make a single more concession to the Council races without a fight."

Chief nodded in approval. He looked over his shoulder and spied the Slip to the Future booths on the other side of the plaza. "You know, Slip to the Future wants to repeal the slipspace ban." he said as he turned back towards Saracino. "Granted, that would still leave the AI ban, but it would still be a step in the right direction. You ever think about cooperating with them?"

That was when something odd happened. Saracino's face suddenly went from jolly to stern. Chief suddenly got a bad feeling. "A couple of things, Petty Officer." he began. "First of all, take another look at those booths. Notice anything odd?"

Chief looked back over to the Slip to the Future booths. He shrugged. "Not really." he said.

"Only about half of the volunteers working those booths are Human. The rest are alien." Saracino pointed out.

"So?" Chief asked.

"Slip to the Future is a Salarian-founded organization. It runs in the hands of aliens." Saracino said as he straightened himself out again. "Slipspace is a Human concern, Petty Officer. Anyone else is just sticking their nose where it don't belong. Second, you seem to be have the same misconception about Terra Firma's platform as many others. We do not just advocate the repeals of bans or the prevention of future bans."

"You don't?" Chief asked.

"Submitting to the Citadel Council on those issues was the worst mistake the Alliance has ever made. Make no mistake about that." Saracino went on. "But what tragically few people realize is that the Alliance's decision to submit is merely a symptom of a greater disease. The problem with Slip to the Future is that it merely seeks to treat the symptom. Terra Firma seeks to cure the disease."

"So what's the disease?" Chief asked.

"Alien influence." Saracino said. "The trouble started in the years following what the Sangheili call 'The Great Schism,' otherwise known as the Covenant Civil Wars. After Humanity and the Sangheili opened formal diplomatic relations with one another, much cultural exchange took place. This lead to the rise of the 'Squidhead' counter-culture in Sangheili society. Course, one must remember that cultural exchange works both ways. They influenced us just as we influenced them."

With that, the Terra Firma candidate began pacing. "Humans eating Sangheili dishes, wearing Sangheili clothes, children fighting each other with toy versions of the very same energy swords that were used to slay Humans by the thousands, I dare say there were times where some of the younger ones started thinking that their blood was purple. It only got worse as the other Covenant races all came out of the woodwork one by one and exchanged their own ideas with Humanity. We were losing our identity, what it meant to be Human."

He turned on his heel and faced the Chief. "This all came to a head a century later on Shanxi. It was a Human world. Ours and ours alone. No other race had any business there. Yet the first thing the Alliance did when it got word of the invasion and subsequent occupation of a Human world was run up and down our home cluster, pleading help from aliens who just a century prior wanted to see every last Human being dead."

"We were under attack by an unknown enemy of unknown strength." Chief pointed out. "We knew that calling on allies would make the odds better for us. It was the pragmatic thing to do."

"Pragmatic? Maybe. But was it the right thing to do?" Saracino asked.

Chief paused.

"….I'd say doing everything in your power to liberate a colony full of innocent people was the right thing to do." Chief replied.

"In any case, cooperating with aliens for so long is what fostered the appeaser attitude the Alliance has developed in the last twenty or thirty years." Saracino went on. "We never should have opened formal diplomatic ties with the Sangheili. That is what put us on the slippery slope. I understand that they lent us their aid in the final days of the Great War, but once the danger had passed, we should have gone our separate ways and, more importantly, stay separate."

"I take it you have similar opinions about the Council?" Chief asked.

"Indeed." Saracino answered. "The minute such bans were proposed, we should have just walked away. Shut down our embassy, cut all ties. We didn't venture into the greater galaxy just to have aliens tell us what to do."

"I've heard some people say that remaining separate from the Council races would have inevitably lead to war." Chief commented, remembering the conversation he had with Kaidan just prior to the Eden Prime mission.

"That's just what some of the more 'pragmatic' appeasers claim." Saracino replied. "The truly naive ones go so far as to claim that we should be seizing the opportunity to be part of a 'greater inter-species community,' regardless of the costs." he scoffed again. "We've heard that before in Human history. Well-meaning naiveté leads to declarations of peace in our time. But we can't allow anything like Harvest, Reach or Shanxi to happen again. We must resist all forms of alien influence. We must even stand ready to secede from the Citadel races if they cross one more line."

He straightened up again. "Some may say that would lead to war. They may be right. But if that would indeed be the case, then I say let let the war come. As Thomas Jefferson once said, the tree of liberty must be watered, from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. If you ask me, I'd say the tree is long overdue for a good watering."

"What about joining the Council?" Chief asked. "Getting a seat on the Council is the Alliance's goal right now. If we do get that seat, there'll be a lot of changes in Council space, all for Humanity's better interests."

"Please." Saracino dismissed. "Completely setting aside that we shouldn't have joined the Citadel races to begin with, which would have made our Council prospects moot, joining the Council would only worsen our alien influence problem. We would lose more and more of what makes Humanity so special. Unfortunately, the Alliance is too blinded, both by its fear of war and its lust for political power, to see that."

It was then that a young man walked up to Saracino. "No new sightings, Mr. Saracino."

"Still?" Saracino asked.

"No one's seen hide or hair of him ever since he entered the Olympic Tower yesterday." he went on.

"Damn. ONI probably sneaked him off the planet while no one was looking." Saracino replied with a sigh. "Alright, call off the search." The young Human nodded before walking away while typing something on his omni-tool.

"What was that about?" Chief asked.

"We've been looking for the Master Chief." Saracino replied. "We heard he was here on Reach. Landed here just yesterday in fact. Unfortunately, it would seem that he's long-gone now. Far as we can tell, he never stays in the same system for more than a day or two, most likely from all the missions and assignments he's been receiving these days."

"Why've you been tracking him?" Chief asked, suddenly getting another bad feeling.

"I was hoping I could convince him to issue a public statement of support for my candidacy." Saracino replied. "The support of the first Human Spectre and the last living Spartan would have been invaluable. But more important than that, the rather unsavory rumors that have sprung up about him concern me. I was hoping to talk to him about them."

"Rumors?" Chief asked.

"Rumor has it that he's been traveling….with aliens." Saracino answered. "Can you believe that? The Master Chief himself, turning into a sympathizer. I pray that those rumors are wrong, but if they aren't, I feel that it is Terra Firma's responsibility to remind the Master Chief of where his loyalties are supposed to lie."

Chief suppressed the urge to twitch, bristle, or give any other tell that he was irritated. "I think he's still loyal to Humanity." he argued. "If he is traveling with aliens, I imagine it's so they would help him. They're probably good at what they do, so Chief brought them along to put their talents to use."

"Ah yes, and I suppose that would be the 'pragmatic thing to do' as well?" Saracino asked with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head. "That's the problem with Humanity today. We care more about pragmatism than principal."

"If you care so much about principal, maybe you should respect the Chief's judgement." the Spartan said. "Alien or not, that's still his team you're talking about."

"'His team' has alien nationals on an Alliance warship." Saracino argued. "None of them are Alliance military, ergo, none of them have any business on board the Normandy. If the Master Chief truly needs help that badly, he could have easily found it elsewhere, from Human sources. Still can, as a matter of fact. Every single alien on his team can be easily replaced with a Human of equal skill."

John suppressed the urge to punch him in the face. Professional or not, Human or not, those aliens were his team. His friends. But that wasn't all. The true bite of Saracino's words came from knowing that, just a few days earlier, those words were the Spartan's exact thoughts. Now that those words were, literally and figuratively, staring at him in the face, he realized how wrong they were.

Chief took a deep breath to calm himself and review the matter at hand more objectively. Slip to the Future was an organization that promoted the repeal of the worst mistake the Council ever made. The fact that it's run by non-Humans shouldn't really matter if their ends are the same as Humanity's. Meanwhile, Terra Firma wants to refuse any and all forms of alien influence, even beneficial things like military aid and cooperation towards shared goals. The Chief was personally still against all the 'appeasing' the Alliance has done, but Terra Firma only represented the opposite extreme, which was hardly the ideal path for Humanity in his view.

Chief shook his head. "Don't get me wrong Mr. Saracino. I agree with some of what you say, but not all of it I'm afraid."

"I understand." Saracino said with a nod. "I'm glad you support the democratic process, at least. Thank you for your time, Petty Officer. Help yourself to a free datapad at the booth if you want more information on our platform. Remember Terra Firma on election day, cuz Terra Firma remembers you."

Chief nodded and walked over to one of the booths, taking a Terra Firma datapad out of courtesy. He then began walking towards the museum proper. As soon as he was inside and out of Saracino's line of sight, he tossed the datapad away in the nearest trash bin. "Good news." Cortana chirped. "As far as I can tell, your brain is still alright, which means that exposing yourself to Terra Firma didn't kill any of your brain cells."

"They are a little extreme, aren't they?" Chief asked.

"You don't know the half of it. When Saracino said that some of his supporters have extreme views, he wasn't kidding. I've done my research and have read comments by supposed Terra Firma party members that are so ugly that it makes you stop and think how such hatred is even possible." the AI explained. "Course, there's a high probability that most of those types of comments are simply exaggerations meant to provoke a reaction from other commenters, but still."

"You're observing extranet comments and you're worried about my brain cells?" Chief asked.

"…Touche'." Cortana replied. "Anyway, it's almost time for your mystery meeting. Proceed to the 'Fall of Reach' section, please. The signs should lead you there."

"Still haven't told me who I'm meeting." Chief pointed out.

"I suppose I should change that." Cortana admitted. "Okay. Remember our 'good friend' Nassana Dantius?"

….

Emily Wong had been a Citadel girl for most of her life. Her parents moved there when she was just a toddler. She grew up on Kithoi Ward, and so had a very multicultural upbringing. She went to school with aliens, she worked with aliens, she even dated a few aliens. It was college after all; a time to experiment. She dated a Turian, a Drell, even a Sangheili. She wasn't as bad as her Asari roommate though. She had sex with a pair of Mgalekgolo bond brothers at the same time. She described it as a Hanar's massaging skills combined with a Krogan's roughness, a mental picture that Emily really didn't need. But hey, Emily's fault for asking, she supposed.

It had always been in Emily's nature to ask questions, to examine evidence, to find the truth. Her father always thought she might have had a career in law or law enforcement. But she was far more interested in journalism. As soon as she graduated from Kithoi University with her journalism major, it didn't take her long to find a job at Citadel NewsNet.

Problem was, she was still just a small-time reporter. Her bosses had her working small stories; lawsuits, local events, election coverages, nothing that would have made the 'front page' as the centuries-old journalism saying went. What she needed was a big break. She thought she had gotten that big break while investigating organized crime in the Kithoi Arm's lower wards, specifically the crime lord known only as Fist. She even thought she got lucky when Fist's club / hideout Chora's Den was suddenly assaulted by an unidentified pack of gunmen a couple of weeks ago. She was able to get there after the fighting was over but before C-Sec arrived to close off the scene. Unfortunately, when she looked around in Fist's room, all she found was Fist's bleeding corpse and a destroyed data disk, likely shot up in the fighting. So much for that big break.

Her vacation couldn't have come soon enough. Having such a big story slip from her grasp was quite the blow to her morale. She really did need a break. Her family chose Reach as their vacation spot, mostly because, well, it was Reach. It was a planet with a lot of history, a planet where the fate of the Human race was ultimately decided. It was like an unofficial Mecca for all mankind; you couldn't really call yourself a Human with a straight face until you've visited Reach at least once in your life. The Wong family was thinking of renting a yacht and going for a pleasant cruise around one of the planet's famous crater seas.

So imagine Emily's surprise when she got an anonymous tip saying that he had information on a diplomat working on the Citadel, information that said diplomat doesn't want anyone to know. She was told to meet him in the Fall of Reach section of the Museum of the Great War.

Emily had never visited the museum before, and marveled at all the dioramas and artifacts on display as she walked through it. It didn't take very long to arrive in the Fall of Reach section. It was a large, circular room with all kinds of 26th century artifacts under glass cases, mostly weapons used by both sides of the conflict. On one side of the room was a diorama of New Alexandria as it was glassed by the Covenant. On the other side was a pair of wax statues depicting a SPARTAN-III and a Sangheili zealot frozen in time as they grappled with one another. Emily walked up to this exhibit and, checking to make sure no one was looking, reached forward and touched the tip of the zealot's energy sword. She pulled her finger back as it was pricked, checking it, relieved to see that it wasn't bleeding.

She turned around and observed what was arguably the centerpiece of this part of the museum, the Monument to NOBLE Team, also known as the Monument of Light. It was a unique piece of 3D art, 'drawn' by a robotic arm over the course of 20 days. The piece was made up of 54,439 points of light suspended over a holographic platform, the points of light combining together to form a 3D image of NOBLE Team. In front of the monument was a plaque that read the following;

When all hope on Planet Reach seemed lost,

Noble Team stood united in defense of humankind.

In honor of their heroism we come together.

Remember Noble. Remember Reach.

The monument to Noble Team burns brighter

with each who remembers their courage.

Not far from the Monument of Light was a single, beaten up, Spartan helmet that was on display under a glass case. It was the helmet of Noble Six, found in an old battlefield in 2589 when the planet was just starting to be recolonized again. It was by this exhibit that Emily saw a very tall man wearing Alliance overalls. He was observing the helmet before he looked up and noticed her. He walked over to her in a calm, almost business-like way.

"Emily Wong?" he asked in a deep, gravelly sort of voice.

"That's me. Emily Wong, Citadel NewsNet." she replied. "I take it you're my anonymous tipper?"

"I am." he replied. "And with all due respect, I'd rather you keep me anonymous."

"Okay. What do you have for me?" Wong asked.

"Have you ever heard of an Asari diplomat named Nassana Dantius? She works as the Republics' diplomat to the Sangheili Empire." the tall man began.

….

The rain had started again in New Alexandria. It was heavy enough that hoods and umbrellas were recommended by the local forecasters but light enough that it didn't really send anyone looking for shelter. New Alexandria had always been a rainy city. Nothing short of a torrential downpour would so much as phase most of its inhabitants.

The Master Chief was walking down the dock back to the Normandy. The docking bay had a roof over its walkways, so the Chief's head was shielded from the rain. As he approached the bridge that connected the Normandy to the docks, he noticed a man in uniform standing by the entrance. He stood rigidly and properly, his hands tucked behind his lower back. He looked like he was talking about something with Victor Lawrence, the Normandy's requisition officer. As the Chief got closer, he realized that the man in uniform was very upset.

"Look, I don't know when he'll be back. He didn't say." an exasperated Lawrence said.

"Is this truly how the Master Chief conducts himself? Leaving the ship willy-nilly whenever he bloody well feels like it?" the officer asked in an English accent.

"Can I help you, sir?" Chief asked as he walked up to the man. The man turned on his heel to face the Chief. He was an older man, a prim and proper gray mustache on his face and the neck on his skin wrinkled. Chief saw an S-1 on his breast along with a few medals, showing that he was from ONI. He raised his eyebrow.

"Well, you can help me by calling the Master Chief here right now." he said, indignation dripping off his words.

"You're looking at him, sir." the Chief replied.

"Oh. Well. Very good." the man replied, apparently not expecting the man in front of him to be the Spartan himself. He then crisply saluted. "Brigadier Alfred Germain Lethbridge-Stewart, Systems Alliance Army and liaison to Office of Naval Intelligence Section One." Chief returned the salute. "First off, let me begin by congratulating you on that successful op you ran back in the Highland Mountains. Couldn't have a rogue VI running about, so you have our thanks for taking care of that."

"It was my job, sir." Chief replied.

"That said, I believe you have something that belongs to ONI, and I'm here to pick it up." the Brigadier said. "I understand that you acquired some very valuable slipspace data from a Forerunner facility on Eletania, yes?"

"Yes sir. It's in the ship." Chief said.

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Go on and get it. Quick as you like, I haven't all day." the Brigadier ordered. With a nod, the Chief walked across the bridge connecting the dock to the Normandy's airlock.

The Chief walked past the CIC and down the staircase to deck two, where his personal quarters were. Once he was inside his quarters, he sat down at his desk and pulled out his drawer, digging up the OSD containing the Forerunner slipspace drive data, the one he took from Tali on Eletania.

….Took from Tali.

I thought we were friends.

Chief sighed. Those words stung him, but at the time he tried to shrug them off, justifying it by telling himself that he wasn't on this mission to make friends. He was on this mission to get it done. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. He looked down on the OSD, remembering the argument he had with Tali over it. She was right. If he hands this over to ONI, the Quarians would likely never see it again. The Quarian Flotilla had nothing to offer the Alliance, so there would be no incentive to share the data with them. But what could the Spartan do? He couldn't withhold data from ONI.

It was then that he realized that this wasn't the first time he faced this particular dilemma.

I've prepared two separate reports on this for ONI Section Three. The first has all relevant data on my analysis and the possible technology to counter an initial Flood infestation. The second includes the source material: Private Jenkins's and Sergeant Johnson's mission logs and the Sergeant's medical files. I leave it up to you which to deliver to Lieutenant Haverson.

Why would I withhold any data, Doctor?

For a long time I had thought that we had to sacrifice a few for the good of the entire Human race. I have killed and maimed and caused a great deal of suffering to many people, all in the name of self-preservation. But now I'm not sure that philosophy has worked out too well. I should have been trying to save every single Human life, no matter what it cost. If you give ONI the first report, they may be able to find a countermeasure for the Flood. Maybe. They would have a slightly better chance, however, if you give them the second report.

Then I'll give them the second report.

Which will murder Sergeant Johnson. ONI will not be satisfied to take a sample of blood. They will dissect him to find out how he resisted the Flood. It will be a billion-to-one shot that they'll ever replicate his unique medical conditions, but they'll do it anyway. They will kill him because the trade-off is worth it to them. Is it worth it to you, John?

Why do you want me to make this choice?

One last lesson. I'm trying to teach you something it's taken me all my life to realize. I'm giving you the chance to make the decision that I thought I couldn't make.

The Chief remembered the lesson well. He couldn't sacrifice a good man's life for the sake of self-preservation. He couldn't trade one man's life for a billion-to-one chance at salvation in the future. He had to do what he could to save every person's life. Today. Now.

He shook his head. This was different. This wasn't about one person's life against many people's lives. By handing over this data to ONI, he wouldn't be hurting anyone this time.

Please Chief…you can't tell them. My people need this.

Or maybe he was. From what Tali told him, it sounded like the Quarians were an endangered species. They were a race of nomads doomed to wander the stars, their fleets horribly outdated and held together only by the Quarians' ingenuity and resourcefulness. They were so desperate for resources, that a search for resources was every young Quarian's rite of passage. Tali mentioned that, because of who her father was, a lot was expected of her by the migrant fleet. She wanted to bring back something that could change the Quarians' lives for the better. Schematics to a Forerunner-built slipspace engine would certainly fit that bill.

Still, while he understood why Tali would want the data for the good of her species, Chief had his own species to serve and protect. As a Spartan, he had to think about his own people's interests first and foremost.

Unfortunately, the rest of the galaxy sees Humanity as something of a bully. You run over anyone in your path to get what you want.

Saren's dangerous. And he hates Humans. He thinks Humans are growing too fast, taking over the galaxy. A lot of aliens think that.

He paused at those thoughts, those memories. According to Liara and Anderson, that was how the rest of the galaxy saw Humanity. That was how Saren saw Humanity. As a race of selfish bullies and conquerors willing to trample over anyone in their way to attain their goals. That was most likely how Saren justified his hatred to himself, how he was able to sleep at night with the knowledge that he's killed hundreds of innocent Human lives; by reminding himself that the Humans deserved it. That they were a threat to the galaxy that needed to be kept in check.

And by withholding this data from Tali, Chief realized that he'd be proving him right.

He glanced up at the ceiling. "This another one of your tests, Doctor?" he asked. This seemed like the kind of test she'd give him. She once made him choose between one good man and the so-called greater good. It made sense that she would make him choose between his loyalty to his species and his desire to help people. He couldn't sacrifice one good man for the good of the entire Human race. But could he sacrifice the well-being of a whole other species for the good of the entire Human race? Sacrifice the well-being of a friend? What would Dr. Halsey have wanted him to do?

….Well, that didn't take long to decide.

"Er, Chief?" said Lawrence's voice as the Spartan's omni-tool activated. He rose it up to inspect it. "Brigadier's getting antsy. He really wants that data."

"…Tell him I'll have it for him in five minutes." Chief replied. He turned off his omni-tool, inserted the OSD into his PC, and went to work.

….

It was still raining as the Chief stood on the dock looking over the Normandy. In the distance, he could see patches of blue amongst the clouds as the sun tried to break through. The Chief took in a deep breath as he surveyed the ship, his ship, as he held his helmet under his arm.

He was wearing the new MJOLNIR armor that was provided to him by his mysterious benefactor. In many ways, it was similar to his previous set of armor, but there were numerous subtle details that gave it a different feel. First, the chest piece had a boxier frame that added more bulk to the Chief's silhouette, as well as made the armor slightly heavier on the whole. On the right side of the chest piece was the number 117, the same number being printed on the left side of the chest piece, but in brail. The shoulder pads were shaped differently, more triangular in shape than the ones on his old MJOLNIR MK VI armor. His gloves were also more armored, even on the fingers, except for the trigger finger and thumb. He liked that detail in particular. Better hand protection without sacrificing tactile sense while shooting and loading weaponry. Finally, his visor was a fairly straight-forward upgrade over the one in his last armor as it was more sensitive to light and was quicker to adjust to rapidly shifting light conditions. Finally, it had the same color scheme as the armor he had previously been wearing; dark grey with a red stripe on top of his helmet and another red stripe that ran down his right arm, the SPARTAN-II insignia printed on his right shoulder in bold white.

Over all, the armor generally had a heavier, bulkier feel to it. It reminded the Chief of the Mark IV models, the MJOLNIR armor that Chief used for most of the Human-Covenant War until the Mark V came out in 2551, followed by the Mark VI in 2552. While the Marks V and VI were lighter, more streamlined and provided the Spartan with more maneuverability in close-quarters combat, he would be lying if he said he didn't occasionally miss the extra protection and weight of the Mark IV. Additionally, Cortana told Chief that this new armor came with an optional function to temporarily deactivate the safety limiters of the suit's actuators, allowing a temporary boost of speed and agility. The catch was that this boost would only last a few seconds. Any longer, and the Chief would quickly overheat due to the decreased heat regulation of the armor under such conditions.

After he handed the data crystal to the Brigadier, the Master Chief received a transmission from Admiral Hackett via the Normandy's comm room. Still no new leads on the whereabouts of Saren or the Conduit, but in the absence of such leads, Hackett has requested that the Master Chief take on a covert op deep in the Attican Traverse. Due to the politically sensitive nature of the op, the SPARTAN-II Spectre was the only person Hackett felt that he could trust with it. Chief, refreshed from shore leave and ready to resume his duty, agreed. He donned his new armor and called back the Normandy's crew not long afterwards.

Chief eyed Epsilon Eridani as it started to drop in the sky. He grunted in annoyance as he looked back down on the Normandy noting that, so far, less than half of the ship's crew had arrived. They wouldn't be able to leave until nightfall at this rate. It was then that he heard someone coming down the dock. He turned and saw Tali walking towards him. Good. This was something that he needed to do.

"Chief?" Tali asked as she slowed her walk to a stop. "Is that you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Chief asked.

"You're not wearing your helmet." Tali pointed out. Chief looked down on his helmet noting that, sure enough, the Quarian was indeed correct. She leaned in for a closer look. "Is….is that a new suit?"

"Yeah." Chief answered.

"Where'd you get it?" Tali asked.

"Gift from a fan, I guess." Chief replied with a shrug. Tali stared at him. He could tell from the way her eyes shone through her visor that she was giving the Spartan an odd look. "I'll explain later. In the meantime, there's something you and I need to discuss."

"What is it?" Tali asked as she crossed her arms across her chest.

Chief took a deep breath. "Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart from ONI came today. He was here to pick up the slipspace data we found on Eletania."

"The slipspace data I found." Tali venomously corrected. "I take it that you gave it to him."

"I did." Chief replied honestly. "But not before making a copy of it."

Tali said nothing, though her arms seemingly dropped to her sides from their previous positions across her chest. Chief walked up to the Quarian and reached into his belt. He fished out an OSD and held it out to her. After a moment's hesitation, Tali slowly took the OSD from the massive Human's hand. She then slipped it into her omni-tool to review its contents. Her eyes widened as schematic after schematic flew by on her screen.

"It's….it's all here." she said in a hushed voice. "Everything's here. Why would you give this to me?"

"I realized I was wrong." Chief replied as he held his helmet in both hands. He then put it on. "Figured this would be the best way to make amends."

Tali shook her head slowly, as if lost for words. Finally, after a few seconds of stunned silence, she looked up to meet the Spartan's gaze. "My people…..I…owe you a great-"

Chief cut her off by raising his hand. "I'm just trying to make things right with a friend." He then held out his hand. Tali hesitated, not sure of what to do. Apparently, she was unfamiliar with the Human gesture of handshakes. She then held out her own hand. Chief took her hand and shook it. "You're a good soldier, and I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Take care of yourself out there, Tali."

"Out there?" Tali asked. "You mean this is goodbye?"

"Aren't you leaving?" Chief asked as he released Tali's hand.

"No. Why would I?" the Quarian asked.

"Well, I did just give you your ticket back home." Chief pointed out. "You needed that data for your pilgrimage, right? Well you've got it now, so there's no more reason for you to stay with the Normandy. Not to mention my campaign has been very dangerous so far, and it's only going to get worse."

"We've been over this, Chief." Tali replied. "If we don't stop Saren and the Geth, I might not have a home to go back to. I'm going to keep helping you however I can."

"What about Cortana?" the Spartan asked.

Tali paused. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't like the idea of working with it." she confessed. "But it hasn't tried to kill us yet. So if I have to, I'll cooperate."

"Thanks Tali." Chief replied as he put a hand on her shoulder. "It means a lot to know you're staying."

"As the old Quarian saying goes, 'Always stand by your captain.'" Tali replied. "'Even if he's a bosh'tet.'"

…..

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the rest of the Normandy's crew to return to New Alexandria starport. Many of them had adventures while Chief was supplying information to Emily Wong. Ashley and Kaidan had spent the day at the Errera Casino. Ashley evidently won big at the poker table as well as toyed around with the roulette wheels a bit. Kaidan, on the other hand, wasn't as lucky. He lost five hundred credits on a varren race. N'tho arrived with Liara, the latter saying that the former was taking her on a tour of the city. Apparently, this wasn't N'tho's first visit to New Alexandria, so he knew the city well. Garrus had a big lunch at World Cuisine, saying that it would probably be the last time he'd be eating food that 'didn't taste like shatha crap' for a while. Meanwhile, Wrex arrived with a dead moa, claiming that it would be tonight's dinner, which excited the crew.

As Joker put it; "We're having moa! And not that vat-grown stuff, I mean an actual, honest-to-God dead bird! Next time you see Wrex, tell him that he is now my personal lord and savior. Now if only we had some horseradish…"

Dr. Chakwas arrived from the beaches with seashells as souvenirs. The Chief learned something new about Navigator Pressly; New Alexandria is in fact his home. The family he was visiting was none other than his wife and children. After securing all the necessary engineering supplies for the Normandy, Chief Engineer Adams apparently spent the day fly-fishing. Negulesco and Grenado came back both with big smiles on their faces. Negulesco said that she finally found a Varky Varren's Pizza Palace and said it was 'awesome.' Grenado meanwhile, wouldn't say what she had been up to, but only said that she was 'immensely satisfied.' All in all, it was a good shore leave for everyone. Refreshed and rejuvenated, the Normandy crew was ready for their next objective.

But before they could disembark, there was something that the Master Chief needed to do.

The entire crew was assembled on the loading bay in front of the open door to the Normandy's cargo hold. The Master Chief had called them all there for a special meeting prior to departure. There was a lot of hushed talking going on about what it might be about. Hushed talking that quickly ceased as soon as the Master Chief showed up. He strode down the dock towards the Normandy, observing the crowd of crewmen as they all quickly formed ranks. There were a few exceptions, one of which being Joker, who couldn't stand for very long due to his Vrolik's Syndrome. Instead, he sat on a nearby footstool. The Spartan stood before the crew as they awaited his words.

"Just did a quick headcount. Everyone's here, Chief." Cortana reported via private radio channel. "Start whenever you're ready."

The Chief took a deep breath. "Good evening, everyone." he started. "During our last assignment on Eletania, it was revealed to the Normandy crew that when I was preserved for over a hundred years in the floating wreckage of the Forward Unto Dawn, I was not alone. Cortana is, in fact, still functional. Has been since Eden Prime, as I have been harboring her in secret since I was first assigned to this ship."

He paused to gauge the crew's reaction. No visible reactions as of yet, though that may be because he was simply confirming what everyone already knew. "Some of you are most likely upset about my keeping her a secret from all of you. I thought I had good reason to keep her secret. We all know what the Council's policy on AI's is. If the Council were to ever find out about Cortana's existence, she would be exiled from Citadel Space, if she were lucky. In the worst case scenario, she would be eliminated outright. Either way, I would likely be blacklisted from the Spectres, just as Saren Arterius was, and that would have had negative impacts on me personally, our mission, and the Human Alliance's long-term goals. Which is why I felt that telling people about her, people who I am supposed to trust, was simply too great a risk to take."

He paused again. "I was wrong." he admitted. "It's been a long time since I was in proper command of a unit. I had forgotten one of the key aspects of leadership; trust. Specifically, I had forgotten that trust works both ways. Just as soldiers trust their commander to guide them, so too much a commander trust his soldiers to follow him. On the Eletania mission, I allowed critical intelligence to fall into enemy hands, because I insisted on carrying the intel myself. I insisted on carrying the intel myself because I didn't trust anyone else with it. As a result, my unit was forced to destroy that intel in order to keep it out of enemy hands. Additionally, the target escaped capture. By refusing to trust my own soldiers, I had failed in my…..our primary objective."

He took another deep breath. "The whole incident has made me question if I am truly well-suited for my current station. For a brief time, I considered resigning from the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance." The Chief paused as he noticed a lot of eyes widened on the crew's faces. Not surprising. He read in the codex that it was extremely rare for a Spectre to resign from his post of his own volition.

"However, after careful introspection, I have decided to remain in my post. The Alliance put me in this position for a reason. Just as they trust me to get the job done, I must trust that they made the right decision." he stated. That seemed to cause some relief among the crew. "However, it would be unethical for me to order you all to remain with me in light of my recent failures. We have yet to disembark from Reach, a well-established colony world from which any of you can go wherever you want or wherever you are needed. If anyone here wants to leave or request a transfer, now is the ideal time to speak up. I, for one, will not hold it against you if you choose to opt out of this campaign."

There was a hushed confusion as the crew members darted their eyes towards one another, uncertain of how to respond. It was then that Joker raised his hands. The Chief nodded at him, giving him permission to speak. "If I asked for a transfer every time my CO acted like an ass, I'd have piloted forty-eight different ships by now." he said aloud. "Trust me, you are not as bad as you think you are."

"You made a mistake, Master Chief." Dr. Chakwas pointed out. "Doesn't make you a bad leader. It just makes you Human."

"Setbacks happen in every military operation, sir." Ashley spoke up. "When it happens, you don't sulk about it. You just learn from your failures and give it another shot."

"Seconded." Garrus agreed. "We've still got a rogue Spectre on the loose. Thick or thin, we're gonna stick by you until we bring him to justice."

"Don't forget the Conduit." Kaidan pointed out. "We've got to find that too before someone shadier than us does."

"I'm only here to get into some good fights." Wrex said with a shrug. "You haven't disappointed me so far, so I don't see any reason to leave."

"Nice try, Chief!" N'tho hollered. "But you can't get rid of a squidhead thateasy!"

"I promised to stay by you, Chief. I meant it." Tali said.

"I too have no intention of leaving." Liara added. "I know you'll see us through this, Chief. I intend to stay until it's done."

One by one, the crewmen spoke up. Pressly, Adams, Negulesco, Grenado, Lawrence, each and every one of them voiced their intention to stay on board. The Chief smiled under his helmet. It wasn't too late. His crew….

His family. They weren't going to give up on him over a mistake.

"Alright." Chief said as he held up his omni-tool. "Cortana."

Cortana's avatar materialized over the Chief's omni-tool. "Hello everyone. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I'm UNSC Artificial Intelligence serial number CTN 0452-9, but everyone just calls me Cortana. I'll be your mission AI for the duration of the campaign. Now that that courtesy has been dealt with, here's our next assignment."

Cortana's avatar was suddenly replaced with a galaxy map. "Huddle in a little closer. This omni-tool's hologram range isn't that great." the AI said. The crew then walked a little closer towards the Chief to get a better look at the galaxy map hovering over the omni-tool. "Okie dokie then! Now then before anyone asks, no, there's no new intel on the whereabouts of Saren or the Conduit, so we're still at square one on that front. So Alliance Command has given us this nice little odd job to keep our hands busy in the meantime. Now quick history lesson; during the First Contact War, the Alliance launched a lot of espionage probes into what they suspected was Turian space in order to get more information on a possible enemy. Many of them got lost somewhere along the way. Alliance Command just received a 'mission complete' burst transmission from one of these lost probes about twelve hours ago."

"Hell of a delay." Ashley noted.

"That's not even the half of it. Here's the real kicker. As you all know, the Turian homeworld is here." A green dot appeared in the galaxy map, highlighting Palaven, the Turian homeworld. "Meanwhile, the probe in question is way over here." Another green dot appeared on the far side of the Attican Traverse, on what is essentially the opposite side of the galaxy from Palaven.

"That's the opposite side of the Alliance from Turian space." Kaidan pointed out. "How did the probe get there?"

"No clue." Cortana replied. "Either A: The probe got really lost. Or B: Someone recovered it safely and brought it there. The second possibility has the most disturbing implications, those implications being that whoever has the probe now is probably very mean and will want to do very mean things with the probe."

"Pardon me, but what kind of 'very mean things' would such people be able to do with a mere probe?" Liara asked.

"Don't know, but whatever those very mean things are, they probably involve the 20-kiloton tactical fusion warhead attached to the probe." Cortana cattily replied. "That's the part the Alliance is really worried about. When they sent out the espionage probes, they attached demo nukes to them and programmed them to detonate in the event of discovery or tampering. Now, aside from the obvious implication that an innocent bystander's day could get ruined by a nuclear explosion, there's also the political consequences to consider. If the Council find out that the Alliance randomly sent out nukes into Turian space and one of those nukes wound up blowing up a hapless colony out in the traverse, it would most certainly make the Alliance look bad."

"Uh, should we be talking about this with a Turian present?" Pressly asked, nodding to Garrus.

"Garrus is an ex-cop with authority issues, XO Pressly." Cortana reminded. "I highly doubt he has Primarch Fedorian on speed dial. Now then, our mission is to head over there, defuse the bomb, and possibly shoot at some very mean people." With that, the galaxy map was replaced by Cortana's avatar. "Any further questions?" she asked.

"Yeah. We're not a bomb squad." Wrex said. "So how are we supposed to defuse a nuke?"

"We improvise." Cortana answered. "Don't forget, I'm a brilliantly-crafted AI. Not to mention we have a Quarian engineer on our team. The two of us can probably figure something out." She looked towards Tali. "Isn't that right, Tali?"

Tali just grumbled something as she tried to avert her gaze from the AI's avatar. "What was that?" Cortana asked.

"Nothing." Tali mumbled.

"Oh, this is going to be a fun mission." Cortana said with a wide smile. Pressly walked in a little closer.

"Could you bring up the galaxy map again?" Pressly asked.

"Sure." Cortana replied as she replaced her own avatar with the galaxy map.

"Zoom in." Pressly requested. Cortana complied. The navigator shook his head as he looked at the Chief. "Transmission came from the Amazon system, on the far side of the Voyager Cluster. It's gonna take at least a few days to get there all the way from Reach."

"Then we'd better get going." Chief said as he turned off his omni-tool. He turned to the rest of the crew. "Everyone on board and to your stations. I want this boat in the water ASAP."

…

"Cortana, why are we standing in the garage?" Chief asked as he stood with the rest of the combat team on deck three.

"One last thing I wanted to show you before we leave Reach." Cortana cryptically replied. "It's been almost fifteen minutes since we disembarked from the starport, so we should be coming up on Longhorn Valley any minute now."

"Longhorn Valley? You mean we haven't even started to leave atmo yet?" Chief demanded, not pleased with this apparently pointless waste of time.

"Just humor me." Cortana replied. "Remember how the valley didn't have any trees? Like it did in your childhood?"

"Yeah." Chief replied.

"Well, still no trees, but if satellite imagery is anything to go on, there's something else there that you might like." Cortana explained. "Oh! We're here! Joker, bring her to a stop and open the cargo bay door."

Chief and company felt the ship slow to a stop as the cargo bay door opened. The eight of them walked as close to the edge of the door as they dared to get a better view of the valley below. The rain had stopped by now, and as the sun began to set it cast a golden glow across Longhorn Valley. Chief could just barely make out a rainbow amongst the mists swirling around above the valley, but that's not what everyone was paying attention to.

In the 26th century, the Longhorn Valley was filled with trees. Unfortunately, after the planet was glassed and subsequently terraformed back to normalcy, the forest in Longhorn Valley didn't take. It was just one of many things that had changed since the Master Chief's time, much to his chagrin. He looked down on the valley, noting that it was still devoid of trees, but there was something else down there.

Flowers. On either side of the Big Horn River were vast fields of flowers. Roses, daisies, violets, a whole rainbow of colors were laid out upon the land far below. A strong wind blew through the valley, sending vast ripples and waves across the ocean of vibrant colors. It was easily one of the most amazing natural displays the Chief had ever witnessed.

"The UNSC tried to plant a forest here, but after the Fall of Reach, the soil here wasn't fertile enough for forests anymore." Cortana explained. "So the terraformers went with the next best thing; huge fields of flowers. The Longhorn Flower Fields all start to bloom at once at around this time of year."

She paused. "It's not the forest you remembered. It's very different from what you've experienced before. But I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing."

Chief looked over his shoulder at his team. The biotic, the marine, the agent, the mercenary, the vagrant, the scientist and the squidhead. "I guess not." Chief said. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Cortana replied. "Seal her up, Joker. We're out of here."

"Is she gonna be ordering me around a lot from now on?" Joker asked over the intercom as the cargo bay door closed.

"Most likely." Cortana admitted. The Chief turned around towards his squad.

"So, I guess we should be heading back to our stations now, huh Chief?" Ashley asked.

"Yeah." Chief replied. "One last thing though."

Chief took off his helmet and placed it underneath his arm. "If you want to, you can all just call me John from now on."

…..

Is there such a trope as an "Undead Fic?" If there isn't, I'd like to write up that page. An undead fic is a fanfiction that, by all logic, should be a dead fic, yet it isn't. This fanfic is a prime example of an undead fic. Long update times, mixed reaction, this fanfic really should have died eight or nine chapters in. But like most types of zombie, it continues on, purely out of stubbornness.

Some would say that my refusal to give up writing this fanfic is admirable, that it shows how determined I am. But maybe I'm not determined. Maybe I'm just too dumb to know when to quit. Though if that's the case, I've come close to wising up a couple of times. If I wanted to end the fanfic, this would be a good chapter to end it on; with the Master Chief having finally gotten over most of his psychological hangups and ready for the next challenge. Yes, there's still Saren to deal with, along with many other villains working quietly in the dark. But would you really need me to tell you that the Chief will ultimately defeat them?

I've seen the discussions on the fanfic's TVtropes page. About how I won't even BEGIN to cover the ME2 adventure until 2014. ZING indeed, Sorrowman9000. Though that comment was made over a year ago. In retrospect, it may have given me too much credit. At the rate I'm currently writing this thing, if you're reading this as a teenager in 2013, you'll probably have teenagers yourself by the time I make it to the end of Mass Effect 3. And if it's going to take me that long to write this thing, then what's the point in carrying on at all? It's been three years and the Chief hasn't even gotten to Noveria yet. Why don't I kill this thing off? Why am I forestalling what seems to be the inevitable?

Because at this point, giving up on this fanfic would almost feel like giving up on myself at. A few months ago I realized that the Master Chief's plight is not all that dissimilar from my own. MC is stuck in a time and position where he isn't sure if he can succeed, if he can win. He feared that things were simply too different for him to adapt properly. Meanwhile, I've graduated from college and now I find myself in this lonely, depressing period where I'm just sitting in front of my laptop wondering what my future will be. Wondering if I even have a future. Things are different for me. Both different from any other period in my life and different from what I thought my life would be after college. Like many others my age, I had made the mistake of delaying my real life in favor of school work and video games for so long that, now that I stand on the cusp of adulthood, I'm not sure if I'd be able to adapt properly.

If it ever seemed like the Master Chief was a little too angsty at times, well, now you know why. It seems my subconscious thought it would be funny to slip some of my own doubts and anxieties into the story.

Not long after this realization, I had another one. The moral of this chapter is that you can't give in to your own doubts, that you shouldn't fear or shun anything that isn't familiar. When you fail, you just need to dust yourself off and promise yourself to learn from the failure and do better. Don't fear change in your life, embrace it.

I realized that maybe I should start practicing what I preach. I'm doing a little bit better these days. I'm trying to get my own life in order, getting it ready for the rest of my life. It's a slow process, but I guess that's how I like to do everything, isn't it? Slowly, but deliberately. Anyway, I guess that's why I refuse to die. If I gave up on this fanfic now, I wouldn't just be letting hundreds of loyal readers down, I'd be letting myself down too.

Looking back, it's actually kinda funny. Believe it or not, this fanfic was originally born purely out of spite. I discussed the idea of a Halo / Mass Effect crossover fanfic with a good friend of mine, he said it was a stupid idea for a fanfic that would never work, and then I set out to prove him wrong. Three years, two thousand reviews, fifteen hundred favs and follows, two fan-made spinoffs and one TVtropes page later, I sure showed him huh?

WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, CHARLIE?!

But while its original reasons for existing may lie in pettiness, ignorance, and me not having better to do, this fanfic truly has taken on a life of its own, to the point where it's become a subtle allegory for my own life.

I'll be honest, I don't really know what the future holds for this fanfic. I was thinking of setting a more rigid schedule for myself; I learned in college that setting goals for yourself each and every day is a good way of counter-acting procrastination. Course, I ignored that advice and procrastinated a lot in college ANYWAY, so I've never really put that idea into practice. Still, might be worth a shot, who knows.

Expect the next chapter…I have no idea. Just expect it.

Chapter name and song lyrics ripped off, I MEAN "reference" malufenix's song of the same name. Go check out her stuff on youtube.

Dear malufenix, PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.