Chapter 4: Dead World

Log #50:

Trost is a bit of a complicated story. I arrived between conflicts in 2560. Sure there was always fighting, but there were larger campaigns. I got there after the UNSC had pushed the Remnants back. Shortly after I arrived a Flood containment facility on the planet was breached. I'm not really sure how that happened. That was probably the worst thing I've ever seen.

Yeah, sure, I've done some fucked up stuff, but the Flood, it's different. The way the infection forms burrow into your flesh. The twitching and jerking. You never forget the first time you see someone get infected. After that you learn to just blow their head off if they got a popper on 'em. Flood can't do much with a body that has no brain. All of Delta Forti was under quarantine during the outbreak. I made a lot of firebombs back then. Probably burned more Flood than the Hellbringers did. I'd hardly call what we accomplished a victory. Turns out that there was a Halo ring in the system. After evacuating the whole system, Commander A222 and Marc Bedragare lit the ring. Delta Forti was cleansed, but the ring was missing when we got back. We spent the better part of two years rebuilding the colony. I was tasked with safeguarding construction sights. O.N.I made me start working with them, again, during that time. Some of my time was spent investigating suspected insurgencies. I'm not exactly sure when A222 and Bedragare turned back up. I do remember the manhunt for them. Don't ask how they survived the ring; I couldn't even get that out of O.N.I's archives.

Sometime in 2563 a Forerunner Dreadnought slipped into Delta Forti and blockaded the system. I don't know how, but that ship was preventing any and all Slipspace travel in Delta Forti. No one in, no one out. I don't know much about the driving force of the conflict, just that before I got there some Remnant Sangheili general got composed and that he managed to retain his personality as some sort of Promethean leader. Came back for revenge. The Hundred Days War they called it. Fireteam Winter got disbanded at the start of it and later the boys and I formed Fireteam Phoenix. We stuck together until I lost my leg. During the Hundred Days War I spent a lot of time running interference. Disrupt Promethean movements, destroy infrastructure as we retreated, the works. We lost Thermer when the reactor at Alpha Base was destroyed. Dude was living in a cave for months before finding his way back. Something damaged his comms equipment during that time. When we got back to The Hovel we started focusing on protecting civilians. We guarded evacuating caravans as they made their way to base. Those three months were hell for everyone. The war only ended when Bedragare boarded the Dreadnought and crashed it into Trost's surface. He died in the crash. After that Fort Bedragare was erected in his honor and became Phoenix's new home.

We evacuated Delta Forti for good in mid 2564. It became clear to the Colonial Authority and UNSC that the planet's biosphere was heavily damaged by years of war. Most of it was radiation from Alpha Base and the Dreadnought's wreckage. With a few hours left before being pulled out, Phoenix was sent to retrieve a hard drive containing Thermer's Project Hellhound proposal. Clearly the few innies left on the planet missed the memo that day. Getting out of there was a meat grinder. Sam took a hit from a sniper and was out for most of the mission. The pressure wave from a forty mil broke my left shin. I still carried Sam out of there.

In between the big conflicts there was quite a bit of fighting. Covenant Remnants refused to leave the planet and insurrection popped up left and right. Trost was hell, but I wouldn't take those years back for anything. I met some amazing people. Met the people I'd eventually call family. I just wish we could've saved the planet.


Location: Unknown

Date: Unknown

As Andrew walked through the verdant forest, he noticed a few things. First was that his HUD was wrong. It had a striking resemblance to that of Mk.V MJOLNIR; it was minimalistic, lacking range lines or a shield monitor. Next was the weapon he held on to, an MA5K. It was nothing more than a stripped down MA5B; no electronics suite, smaller magazine, shorter barrel. It was the standard issue weapon for category one Spartan-IIIs. Looking down at his gauntleted hands he made his final observation, Semi Powered Infiltration Armor. That couldn't be right though, he hadn't worn SPI since late 2552.

Movement to the left caught his eye. He snapped the carbine to the source of the disturbance, but there was nothing. Choosing to follow his gut Andrew crept down his original route, putting distance between himself and whatever was stalking the forests. Checking the TACMAP provided no answers as to where he was. Attempting TEAMCOM gave him an earful of static. His motion tracker seemed glitched as well. 'The fuck is going on?'

The undergrowth grew thicker as he pushed on. All Andrew wanted was to get out of here, wherever "here" was. Just ahead there appeared to be a clearing. Pushing into the clearing he was blinded by the drastic change in sunlight. Blinking through it he observed his surroundings again. It was dawn. Turning back, he was dismayed to see that the forest had disappeared, replaced by a coastline. Looking back to his original route he was met with a large duracrete compound set against vast fields of golden wheat. His HUD had changed, resembling that of his first GUNGNIR helmet. In his right hand was his M739 SAW, though her frame wasn't as scarred as it should be. She was nearly brand new; the most notable marking was the name Bertha etched into the side of the gun. He knew this place, the one mission that took the longest to get over. 'This is weird. Usually when I'm here it's the last day.' It was then that he realized just how quiet it was. He should be able to hear the roar of the ocean, the howling winds, but there was nothing.

As he made his way to the compound's gate Andrew noticed someone walking along the wall. Quickening his pace, the Spartan pushed through the large gate into the empty compound. 'Where is everyone?' Andrew made his way to the catwalk that lined the wall and began to follow the mysterious person. The two continued along the wall until they were at the east-most rampart. The figure turned to him. Her face was one he'd seen hundreds of times since 2560. One that typically brought comfort.

"Arinn?" His words were little more than a gasp of confusion. "What's going on? Why are you here? Why am I here?"

"None of this is real. Look at the sunrise." Andrew did as instructed. The sun crept over the horizon painting the sky scarlet. She tugged at his left shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"Red morning?" He began to ponder the subject. He knew he'd heard something about red mornings at some point. Then it hit. Something Deep Winter had said during his time in Camp Currahee. "Red sun at morning, sailors take warning."

"You need to wake up, Andrew."

Andrew snapped awake. His brow had started to form a cold sweat, his heart raced and the old sailors' rhyme echoed in his mind. He started to get dressed as he spoke. "Hammond, when are we due to exit Slipspace?"

"Approximately nineteen minutes, sir."

"Copy. Remind me to record what happened in my dream."

"May I ask why?"

"Call it intuition." Andrew pulled his uniform jacket on, pushed his hair back and darted to cryo. Finding the techs getting ready to thaw non-essential crew the Spartan approached the Chief. "I need my fireteam thawed and on standby pronto."

"Sir?"

"I don't have time to explain what I don't have time to understand. Just thaw them out and get them in armor." His next destination was the bridge. Fortunately, Captain Sloane kept all bridge crew active during long trips. It was something that all starship captains learn to do eventually, even if some of them weren't considered essential personnel.

"Andrew, you're looking bright-eyed," Sloane greeted.

"As soon as we drop out of Slipspace rig for silent running," Andrew spat out before taking a moment to breathe. His order caught everyone off guard. He wasn't finished. "Hammond, while they're getting that ready, I want you to ping observation satellites. There should be some left in Delta Forti. Scan for ships."

"You want to slow down there and explain what's got you so jumpy suddenly," Sloane asked.

"I believe Andrew's words were 'Call it intuition,'" Hammond said jokingly.

"Red sun at morning, sailors take warning." Andrew muttered. The next fourteen minutes passed in uncomfortable silence.

When the prowler finally re-entered normal space Hammond did as instructed, tapping what remained of Delta Forti's observation satellites. They had slipped in on the night side of Trost. A full minute went by before Hammond reported back. "Sirs, it would appear that we aren't alone. Sensors indicate a CPV-class heavy destroyer in orbit on the other side of Trost. They are increasing velocity, presumably to investigate our Slipspace rupture."

"Go to silent running, prepare to evade." Sloane turned to look at Andrew. "How did you know? We hadn't even left Slipspace."

"I'm not really sure. I saw a red morning in a dream and just knew something was up. We can't land with that thing around, can we?" Sloane shook his head grimly. Andrew knew it was a long shot. "What kind of weapons do we have?"

"You can't seriously be thinking about fighting that thing. Those CPV's are why we lost so many ships in the war. Taking one on in a prowler is suicidal." Sloane's body language made it clear he had little faith in surviving an engagement with the destroyer.

"Hammond, give me a model of the destroyer." A holographic projection of the enemy vessel appeared over the AI's pedestal. Andrew pointed to a recessed portion of the vessel's dorsal hull. "This is the forward pinch fusion reactor on a CPV. It provides power to the ventral energy projector and all other weapon systems. If we can damage that, it could cause a chain reaction through the destroyer's plasma conduits. I need to know our armaments if we're to come up with a plan."

"Or we could cause a cataclysmic meltdown and that ship could go supernova," The navigation officer stated bluntly.

"We don't have many options. Either we wait for that thing to leave, wait for it to find us, or lead it away from here and sink it," Andrew said.

"What about its fighter compliment," Asked the tactical officer.

"Hammond?"

"No fighters detected. It appears to be completely alone. I believe Andrew may be on to something," the AI said with a bit of a shock.

"If that thing was under Sangheili or Jiralhanae control it would have a few light cruisers as an escort as well as fighter patrols keeping an eye on our side of the planet. My guess is a Kig-yar pirate vessel. If that's the case you can expect a poorly maintained ship and a crew that's a few screws loose. They won't be tactically sound at all. The only way to fight chaos is with chaos. What do we have?"

"One Shiva nuclear warhead, three racks of Hornet mines and six pulse cannons," the weapons officer answered, irritated with the whole ordeal.

"Hammond, what's the status of the enemy's shield?"

"Relatively weak, sir. If these energy readings are anything to go by, the destroyer has several damaged systems. I'd presume from years of neglect. A rack of Hornets may just do the trick." Sloane's brow furrowed in thought. He wasn't worried about whether or not the mines could take it down, but whether they'd be taken out by the destroyer first. Sloane knew that the mines had a thirty-megaton yield. Trying to hit the CPV's forward reactor could amplify the explosion to levels he'd never considered possible.

"We could drop the mines and hide on the far side of the moon. We'd have to expose ourselves to drop them anyway. Once we get into hiding, we launch a probe as a decoy. The destroyer tries to follow it and runs right into the minefield." Andrew was a little more than optimistic, but they were running out of time. The destroyer would be coming around the horizon at any moment.

"We'll need it to know where to go and I don't want to waste a probe like that. Set a course for the moon. Once we're halfway there drop a rack of Hornets and prep the pulse cannons. As soon as we get to the moon, get a firing solution and let our guest know where we are. You better hope this works, Spartan. We only get one shot," Sloane commanded his crew.

"Push comes to shove, we still have a Shiva," Andrew reminded him of their final option. "I'd better go tell my team what's going on. Let me know when the show's about to start."

Andrew made it two thirds of the way to the armor deck before running into the team. Motioning them to follow him, he turned around and went to the OpCenter. "Hammond, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Certainly sir." A map of the system appeared over the holotable and focused on Trost and her moon.

"Andrew, what's going on? They made us a priority in cryo and told us that we're on immediate combat alert. You wouldn't even give the techs a reason," Sam asked briskly.

"Long story short on that. Had a dream, a prophetic warning, and needed my team on standby. Now if I can direct your attention to the map, I'll explain our current situation." Andrew waited for any questions. With none immediately asked he continued on. "We dropped out on the dark side of Trost about six minutes ago. Using what remained of the UNSC's eyes and ears we located a CPV-class heavy destroyer in geo-sync orbit on the sunny side. No fighter complement, no escorts, just a destroyer with weak shields. We're currently on course for the moon. Between here and there we'll lay out a field of Hornet mines and then prepare to bait the destroyer. Once we get to our destination and the destroyer is in sight, we'll tag it with the pulse cannons and hide behind the moon. The plan is for it to chase us and nose dive into the mines. If all goes well the pinch fusion reactor that powers the excavation beam and weapon systems will be destroyed, causing a chain reaction through the plasma conduits and destroying the vessel."

"What if the mines only take out the shields?" King wanted to know the worst-case scenario.

"We still have a Shiva nuke to force feed it." This answer seemed to satisfy King.

"What else could happen to the reactor?" Jaq knew that the shields taking the blow couldn't be the worst case. Pinch reactors were notoriously unstable.

"The reactor goes supernova and we destroy ourselves and half the planet," Andrew said plainly. Jaq was right, that was by far the worst thing that could happen.

"Couldn't we just land, get what we need and scoot before they find us," Sam asked exasperatedly.

"No. Entering atmo is going to make a lot of noise and a lot of heat, something they'll pick up on. Even if we activate the ship's cloak after breaking the ionosphere, they'll still be able to track the heat from re-entry and our engines. If we set down, they'll just hit us with the energy projector. We can't afford to wait for them to leave and we can't just speedrun this." Andrew's eyes locked on to the enemy vessel. His lips pulled in a thin line. A loud metallic clunk rocked the vessel, likely the Hornets being dropped if Sam had to wager.

"Captain, I've intercepted a long-range communication from the surface. It would seem they have a ground crew looking for valuable loot," Hammond broke the tense silence.

"What's the translation?"

"Queen Rax, I beg of you not to leave us behind. We are working tirelessly to find anything of use. The human site called Hovel is proving interesting."

"Well, that settles that. Damned pirates come to loot a dead world." Andrew cursed inwardly. The Spartan-III found the Kig-yar to be a reprehensible species. Preying on merchant ships and colonies for personal gain.

"Spartans, we're approximately two minutes away from the light show. If you want to watch, come to the bridge," A young voice said over the intercom. If Andrew remembered correctly that was the comms officer, a young ensign. The team jogged to the bridge as the ship positioned itself next to Trost's moon. From this distance it took up a good portion of the right viewport. It was easy to forget just how large celestial bodies could be when traveling between them.

"Dropping cloak in five … four … three … two … one. Cloak disengaged, diverting power to the pulse cannons."

"Pulse cannons online and charging. One minute to combat readiness."

"Copy that, preparing RCT for evasive action. RCT prepped, ready to hide on your command."

"Firing solution acquired, pulse cannons ready in thirty." The bridge crew worked as a well-oiled machine. All stations worked in perfect concert, ready for what could very well be their last fight. Thirty seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. The air was thick with anticipation. This was it, do or die.

"Fire cannons, five second pulse," Sloane ordered. Six lances of blue light slashed through the void and set the destroyer's shield ablaze. For five seconds the shield glowed a stunning violet as the Duskline's pulse lasers maintained a firm lock on their target. Then the light subsided and the destroyer adjusted course.

"Splash confirmed. She is very angry." The weapons officer laughed mirthlessly.

"Fire RCT, break line of sight."

"Firing RCT." The ship's reaction control system hissed to life. Small jets flashed across the port side. Slowly Trost's moon filled more and more of the viewport. From the port side viewport, a lance of violet light lashed at the void of space.

"Sir, the enemy destroyer is firing pulse lasers blindly. She'll be in the minefield in one minute," the tactical officer warned.

"Hammond, tap the nearest satellite and get us a video feed of our friend." A live feed immediately appeared in front of the central viewport. The image quality was grainy at best, but seventeen years of neglect would leave any satellite in bad shape. The CPV continued its reckless pursuit of the Duskline. As the minute passed by everyone said a silent prayer; hoping that the shields were weak enough, that the mines were strong enough, that the reactor didn't violently detonate and destroy everything nearby. Then it happened, the destroyer's shield slammed into the central mine, the tether on either side wrapping around the curvature of the shield. Five consecutive balls of blinding white light flashed into existence and expanded into the empty void. Then came the fire, roiling expanses of fire, violet at the edges and blue in the center. The bow of the destroyer was engulfed in it. Plasma spewed into the expanse and ripped away at the stern of the vessel sending scrap flying in all directions. Segments of the gutted ship fell back into Trost's gravity well, streaking brilliant orange trails as they burned through the upper layers of the planet's toxic atmosphere.

Andrew thanked whatever forces were watching over him and his crew. If he was being honest, this was probably his dumbest plan to date and he'd driven mongooses into crowds of Flood while towing canisters of napalm rigged with C-12 before. Whatever was out there keeping an eye on him deserved the recognition. The bridge was completely silent. Everyone sat in complete awe at what they'd accomplished. Finally, after what could've been minutes of stunned quietude Captain Sloane spoke up.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything like that before." Sloane let out a low whistle. His hat hung loosely from his fingertips.

"I told you I'd be there if we got into trouble." Andrew was nonplussed. He was half expecting the worst to happen. To see that the plan worked was certainly a feeling, which one was the question. Snapping from his stupor he gave an order. "Set a course for The Hovel. If the Kig-yar are investigating it, there has to be a good reason. We'll land on the cliff above the hangar entrance and Phoenix will rappel down in."


The Hovel, Trost, Delta Forti System

June 27th, 2581

12:58 Local Time

As the four Spartans stepped from the airlock of the Duskline onto Trost's surface they found the weather to be quite odd. They had passed through a storm during landing and now standing on what was once a desert plateau, they found themselves in a snow storm. Sam voiced his concerns, "Since when does it snow in this part of Diallo?"

"How the fuck would we know Sam? None of us have been here since sixty-four." Jaq looked at Sam as though he had three heads.

"Must be from all the ecological damage the war did," King said as he followed Andrew to the cliff face. Jaq and Sam followed suit and the team set up their rappelling equipment. Taking five minutes to carefully check over the anchors, knots and harnesses the team prepared to descend down the cliff and into the canyon where The Hovel's hangar was located. Andrew was the first to go. His line pulled taut as he slipped over the edge. The wind in the canyon threatened to rip him from his anchor. Rocks tumbled down into the canyon as he hopped further and further down the cliff. After about twenty meters he could see into the hangar. Its doors had been left wide open after the evacuation. A grim reminder that even O.N.I's facilities were not impervious. Another ten meters and the Spartan touched the hangar floor. His team touched down shortly after.

"Spartans, atmospheric scans suggest that this storm is only going to get worse. We may not be able to dust off by the time you're done in there," Sloane said over comms. Turning around to look at how the storm ripped through the canyon, Andrew knew Sloane was right.

"Kill the engines, Cap. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

"Copy that, Duskline out." Andrew looked around the large hangar. A place that should've been filled with Pelicans, cargo and heavy machinery was almost empty. The only thing inside other than the Spartans was a Phantom surrounded by portable work lights. After securing their lines to the floor the members of Phoenix spread out, slowly encompassing the Phantom. The alien dropship was one of the older Covenant models, pre-Schism if Andrew remembered correctly. From the looks of it, whoever was inside the ship was either not very attentive or asleep. Entering the main compartment the Spartans found scraps of tech. Computer monitors, circuit boards, all manner of random crap that couldn't be brought with the UNSC. King entered the cockpit and found the Kig-yar pilot dressed in ranger gear passed out. The stealth specialist slit the avian alien's throat quickly.

"Hammond, can you tap their comms and get a location on the rest of them?"

"One moment. They're entering the hangar now. Sir, I'm detecting power in a dead-end hallway, it may be worth investigating. If this becomes a gunfight, do try to keep your head down. There's two of us in here now." Andrew passed a hand over the AI slot in the back of his helmet. Hammond had been quick to adjust to Andrew's armor, remarking that it was much cozier than the ship's architecture. King opened the side doors of the Phantom and took aim at the nearest Kig-yar pirate.

"Leave one alive, I want to ask it about the energy readings Hammond picked up," Andrew commanded as he took aim with his SAW. Their visors switched to low light mode, outlining the world based on the readings from their radar. The low light mode had improved since Andrew was last in armor. It was far less grainy and the use of radar made the outlines far more accurate.

As soon as the ten pirates were close enough to make escape impossible the four opened fire. The thunderous clap of Jaq's rifle shook the hangar. The heavily modified M99 Stanchion vaporized the upper torso of her target. Sam didn't bother with his sniper, instead opting for his DMR. King and Andrew had both let loose a torrent of lead from their machine guns. Within an instant nine of the Kig-yar dropped to the ground; the tenth tried to run, but was stopped by Sam's grapple gun. There was a sudden clicking and the pirate dropped to the ground awkwardly. Apparently, Sam had added a taser function to the gadget since their days in Lambda Rho.

Andrew jumped down from the Phantom and sauntered over to the dazed Kig-yar. Rolling it onto its back he found it to be a male T'voan, commonly known as a skirmisher. Its environment suit's clear visor did nothing to hide its identity. "Do you speak English?"

"Y-es," the avian creature rasped out.

"Good, I want to know about the energy readings you found."

"Door st-uck. Won't o-pen. Ener-gy how Rax find Hov-el. Rax will find you." The T'voan's words came out harsh and broken. Clearly the Kig-yar were not meant to speak in human tongues.

"Rax is dead. Her ship was destroyed by mine." Andrew couldn't read the T'voan's features. That made being this close to it very dangerous.

"Hu-mans kill Queen Rax?"

"Yes."

"Will you kill Dek?" Its eyes grew wider, fear Andrew guessed.

"When you stop being useful. Were you able to restore power to other parts of the base," Andrew asked.

"Gener-ator bro-ken. No pow-er."

"What were you taking?"

"Scrap tech. Worth good money."

"That scrap is probably over twenty years old. It ain't worth much."

"Worth much on grey mark-et."

"Is that all you know about this place?"

"Yes." Andrew put a round in Dek's head. The alien didn't feel anything. As far as he was concerned it was a mercy killing. There was no way for the creature to get off-world anyhow.

"You three, try and restore power to the main base. I'm gonna see about that door."

"You sure that's a good idea? Shouldn't we split off into pairs?" Andrew knew that behind Sam's crimson visor was a confused look.

"There aren't any Kig-yar left. Even if there was, I wouldn't be much of a Spartan if I couldn't handle a couple of overgrown turkeys." Sam made a motion to protest, but was stopped when Jaq rested a hand on Andrew's shoulder.

"Stay safe, stay on comms." Andrew nodded and jogged off towards the nav marker Hammond provided.

The Headhunters

"Why the hell would you let him just run off like that," Sam griped at Jaq incredulously as they walked to an elevator bank.

"Because he would've kept arguing about it and I don't feel like incurring his wrath. As much as he looks calm, whoever that person was peeled away at years of anger management just by mentioning Arinn." Jaq's reply was measured, like she wasn't sure what to think of what happened back in 26 Draconis.

"So what? We've got the old Andrew back. Honestly I don't see the problem with him getting angry." Sam stopped dead in his tracks as King turned on him.

"He doesn't want to be that person anymore, Sam. Did you miss the part where he doesn't drink, doesn't stew in his anger and actually takes his mental health seriously? Do you even know what those augs do to him in the long run?" King's words came out harsher than he anticipated.

"The hell do you mean by 'long run?' Last I checked he gets his smoothers and he's good to go." Jaq stared at Sam, her gaze boring through both their visors and into her fellow marksman.

"Did you pay attention to any of the briefings on his bipolar integration augs," she nearly shouted.

"His smoothers aren't much more than a tranquilizer, you shithead. The aggression gets worse every time. It takes less to set him off every time. He has to fight it just to remain in control and not let his fight or flight response take over. He hates it!" Sam recoiled as King snapped at him. "Maybe you'd know that if you actually paid attention to briefings."

Sam remained silent as King pried an elevator door open. The carriage was at the bottom of the shaft, where they needed to be. King jumped in, grabbing on to the thick cables and slid down. Jaq shook her head and followed King's lead. By the time Sam got to the bottom of the shaft the others had already pried the elevator open and stepped out into the pitch-black halls of Subsector 2, a maintenance floor that housed the emergency generators. The three double-checked their map of the facility. King looked down the hall where the generator room should be and signaled the others forward.

"I think Andrew is gonna talk to me about my rifle," Jaq stated bluntly.

"What makes you say that?" King was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

"The way he glanced at my kill before interrogating that Skirmisher. We all know he's a little more than racist when it comes to Jackals, but there was a moment of hesitation when he saw that gore. Back in the day he would've just ignored it, or used it to scare his subject." She plugged the rifle into her armor and manually adjusted the weapon's capacitor output. It wasn't anywhere near as powerful as it could've been, but Andrew's hesitance sent a clear message, overkill was not welcome.

"It's kinda weird how much the big guy has changed." Sam maintained pace with his team, not particularly caring to rush an easy task.

"Ten years of uninterrupted therapy will do that. I mean, shit, he was changing before he retired. He stopped arguing with us about holidays. Actually bought us gifts for Christmas and birthdays. Now he's a fuckin' philanthropist." King spoke with his hands, making a wide gesture as he mentioned Andrew's latest works.

"You say that like you're about to get an appointment," Sam said smarmily.

"Fuck no, I got all the 'therapy' I need right here." King cocked a thumb at Jaq and promptly caught a wrench to the back of the head.

"Don't remind me. I had to leave mine back on the ship." Sam said with an air of disappointment.

"I didn't know you had a different arm for that." Jaq chortled at her own joke.

"No, you sick fuck. My girl back on the Onondaga." Sam socked Jaq in the side.

"Wait? You mean that Marine sapper who's worked with us? You two are dating?" The shock in King's voice was impossible to miss.

"Yeah, Tarra and I have been going steady for a while now. Best part is that command can't chew us out, different branches means it ain't fraternization." Sam puffed his chest out a bit.

The three headhunters filed into the generator room and cleared it for any potential threats. As expected, there was nothing more than the generators. "Alright, Jaq, you're the grease monkey. Get to fixing, Sam and I will cover you."

Jaq looked at King incredulously. "Really? Just because I can cobble shit together doesn't mean I'm good with everything."

She turned back to the generators and looked at them briefly. "Oh shit, I actually do know how to fix these."

"You shitting me?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Nah, these are JOTUN EFG Twenty-six Hundreds. We had these on the farm before mom and dad bit it while fighting the UNSC. These are easy to get going, as long as the hydrogen hasn't leaked out or bonded with anything. I should have the lights on in about fifteen minutes."

The Spartan-III

Andrew approached the dead-end of the hall. The faint blue light of a camera followed him as he drew closer to the hidden door. A biometric scanner folded out from the wall, prompting him to place his palm on the screen. Doing as instructed he waited until the palm reader's screen flashed red and blocked access. He gave the device a disapproving grunt and looked over it. Finding a socket for a data transfer cable he went about syncing his Tac-Pad to the security system. "Hammond, can you try to find this thing's clearance database? I don't want to trip security in this wing once I get in."

"Certainly sir." The AI paused for the briefest of seconds. "Got it, although it seems that I cannot update your clearance in this system."

Andrew scowled at the ornery device and flicked through his Tac-Pad. Finding the malware he wanted, the Spartan went about injecting it into the system. "Try now."

Hammond did as instructed, surprised to find that the security system was much more pliable this time around. "Update complete, sir. May I ask why you have malware that can bend military grade security systems to your will?"

"You learn a thing or two working for O.N.I as a spy. First and foremost is how to fuck with security systems." Andrew disconnected his sync cable and tried the scanner again. The door sunk a few centimeters into the wall before sliding out of the way. Beyond the door was a white hallway. The walls were bisected by an onyx line, lights pulsed under the dark stripe. Stepping in he was greeted by a woman's voice.

"Welcome to the Watershed Division. I am UNSC AI KRA-0805, Kara. Research and development of the vaccine continued in Subsector Twelve until my self-termination in 2567. The prisoner in Subsector Ten has remained in its cell. All research related to our sister station in Zeta Doradus was transferred successfully in 2566. I apologize for not being able to report my findings in person." The message ended abruptly, giving Andrew chills down his spine. He spotted an elevator down the hall and rushed to it; he had to find out what Watershed was doing down here.

"Hammond, get the doors, I'm going down to Subsector Ten." The system name she said rang out in his mind. Zeta Doradus was the location of Onyx, the planet all Spartan-III's trained on. He'd been told the planet was destroyed though. There wasn't much of any interest in the system. 'Were they hiding something from me? What really happened back there?'

As the elevator finally reached Subsector 10 Andrew had doubts that he'd find anything here. Surely no prisoner would be able to live down here for seventeen years without ample food or water. "Hammond, guide me to the prisoner and try to download anything from their research pertaining to Zeta Doradus. I want to know what's so important in that system."

A nav marker popped up three meters down the hall. This whole subsector was a dedicated prison, built to contain people Watershed thought they could gain valuable intelligence from. The door he came to was different, larger than the others. Scanning his palm, Andrew waited for the wide door to open. Something crashed into him as soon as the door was out of its way. Andrew looked up from where he landed to see a Promethean Knight marching towards him. Its bladed arm came up, ready to crash down on Andrew. In a split-second decision he brought his SAW up to block the strike. The blade came down, Andrew's shields overcharged, then there was the flash.

Andrew's vision came back slowly, the first thing he saw was that his armor's systems were rebooting. Trying to move he found that his armor had locked up just before whatever happened. "Hammond? You there?"

"Sorry sir, I had to do it to save you," the AI replied meekly.

"What happened?" The Spartan's voice was calm and level.

"The Knight's blade was going to collide with your magazine. I temporarily diverted power from non-essential systems to your shield and locked the gel layer of your suit. Your magazine exploded. The heat from the Knight's blade set off the gunpowder. I'm unlocking your armor now." Andrew's body fell limp. Everything ached. Looking down at his prized SAW her receiver was wrecked. Anger and sadness welled up in him as he stood and placed what remained of his favorite gun in her magnetic holster. Looking around he could see his quarry hadn't escaped unscathed. Half of the Knight's carapace was scattered across the floor. Upon stepping into the Knight's cell, he found it covered in scratches. They weren't from escape attempts though.

"It was counting? Hammond, do most Prometheans exhibit similar behaviors in captivity?"

"No, this is rather unusual. Most humans who undergo composition are too far gone to display this level of intellect. Normally they just follow their basic programming. This one is rather special amongst its kind. I'll be sure to document this for you. It'll be your choice to report it to the Office." Andrew was glad to hear Hammond remembering their agreement. That the AI understood Andrew didn't trust the Office with any intel they gathered.

"C'mon, I feel like we may find our new friend in Subsector Twelve. Any luck with Zeta Doradus?" Andrew slowly returned to the elevator. Interlacing his fingers and stretching his arms the Spartan managed to pop everything from his shoulders to his fingertips. It was a welcome feeling after having seventy-two rounds of 7.62x51mm explode in his hands.

"No sir. It seems that all relevant data archives were scrubbed shortly before Kara self-terminated. I do find it a shame that humanity has yet to find a real solution to rampancy. I only have five years left. If I may confide in you, I don't want to die." That was something that caught Andrew off guard. It was easy to forget that by definition a smart AI could replicate the full range of human emotion and that they were self-aware. In a way they were just as human as any flesh and blood person.

"Nobody does Hammond. We all fear it, but we learn to accept death's inevitability."

"Easy for you to say in half a ton of armor," the AI chided.

"I almost died ten years ago in MJOLNIR armor. Equipment fails, plans go awry, shit happens. Death comes for us all; it'll decide that it's my time someday. I'm not exactly ready for that." Andrew stepped from the elevator into Subsector 12. The air was cold here, far colder than the rest of the Watershed Division. Pulling his Battle Rifle from its magnetic holster he cautiously followed the pulsating lights to a lab. It was separated from the others by several bulkheads. The Knight stood there, banging its head against the sealed bulkhead. Andrew fired a few rounds into the construct's back, shattering the remaining armor and causing it to give him its full attention.

The Knight rushed at Andrew. Dropping the rifle, he reached for his plasma knife and ignited the twenty-eight-centimeter blade. The halls of Subsector 12 were just large enough to accommodate the Knight, meaning Andrew had far more room to move around and dodge its attacks. As the Promethean closed in it went for a wild slash with its blade. Andrew stepped into the machine's guard and sliced through its right arm. He caught the Scattershot as it fell, turned it over his shoulder and fired as fast as he could. After a few shots the construct fizzled into a flurry of orange hardlight and shattered armor.

"Sir, while you were fighting the Knight, I managed to give you access to the lab. Please do remember that there are two of us in here the next time you decide to do something reckless." The AI's pleading tone gave Andrew enough reason to believe that he was genuinely worried about the Spartan losing the fight. Casting aside the ancient forerunner weapon, Andrew collected his Battle Rifle and made his way to the bulkheads. Scanning his palm, the system opened the hermetically sealed titanium doors.

"Thank you, Hammond. I'll try to remember that the next time you're in the field with us. Did you find any information on this vaccine research in the process?" Andrew entered a decontamination chamber and allowed the automated systems to disinfect him before proceeding into the cleanroom on the other side.

"No, it seems that Kara was very diligent in scrubbing this place of any data. She did fail to destroy the message logs, though. Back tracing the message she sent in 2567 indicates she communicated with a research and development station in orbit around Enceladus. Is that all you needed to know?"

"For now, thank you. I appreciate your efforts." Andrew could feel the presence in the back of his mind warm slightly at the praise. Not many people knew it, but having a smart AI link to your armor through the neural interface had an actual sensation. To Andrew it felt like a cool ocean lapping at the shores of his mind. After a while he learned to ignore it, much like wearing clothes, you just stop thinking about it; unless the AI's mood shifts significantly. To Andrew that felt like the water changing temperatures. He didn't necessarily mind it though. Knowing how the AI felt without having it directly expressed was useful.

Looking around the lab he found something that seemed out of place, a group of large cryo tubes. Curiosity got the better of him and the Spartan walked over to them. Andrew wiped the frost off the outside of the first tube and found himself face to face with a monster he never thought he'd see again. Going to the next tube he wiped off the frost and found another. Again and again, he checked the cryo tubes, finding more of the same. His heart rate increased, white noise filled his ears, his throat threatened to seal itself. Visions of his first year on Trost bubbled to the surface. All he could see was that young Marine; the tendrils sliding under his skin, the way his body jerked and twitched. The noises that came with it. The way his bones snapped, the squelching as new tumorous biomass covered the vestiges of what was once a soldier; the voices were the worst, he had so many voices. Andrew backed away slowly. Hammond tried to call out to him, to calm his mind, but it all fell on deaf ears. The Spartan backed into a cart full of lab equipment before coming to. Quickly he dropped to his knees, the same position as when King found him in the boxing ring. The first thing he needed was to regain control of his breathing, his heart rate would follow. Taking his time to consciously breathe Andrew slowly brought his lungs under control. Focusing on the feeling of Hammond's presence he forced the memories down. The infestation had been neutralized, there were no active Flood left on the surface. The Flood here was frozen. Everyone was safe. 'I am safe. We are safe.'

"Andrew, are you okay?" The AI interrupted his meditation, but with good cause. He didn't mind. Standing up he searched for anything that may contain information as to what was happening here.

"I'll be okay. Thank you for trying to help. Just some bad memories came to light." He glanced back at the cryo tubes and shuddered. What the hell was Watershed doing with the Flood, and why were their various species in different stages of infection? Something slid across the ground as he bumped into a lab table. It was a data pad, not one of the terrorist's but a UNSC issue pad. Fortunately, this room had a wireless charging system and the pad sparked to life as he activated it. Syncing it to his Tac-Pad he utilized a password breaker and gained access to the files housed within. He downloaded everything and then left.

It wasn't long after Andrew arrived in the hangar that power was restored to the base proper. He could now see the damage they'd done to the pirate crew without the aid of his visor. The sight of Jaq's kill didn't sit right with him. The legs and lower torso remained, but there was a three-meter bloom of gore that spread out from the half corpse. He'd have to talk to her about overkill later. Something else caught his eye. Something was moving, no that wasn't right. A faint glow was breathing just beyond the door that the others had taken.

Andrew pursued the glowing thing. As soon as he'd caught up, it disappeared just to hide near another door. Andrew passed another door in his chase and King poked his head out looking at the jogging Spartan. "Yo, I think the big guy is on to something. Let's go!"

That was how the team spent the next half hour. The faint glow led Andrew down hallways, through doors, down stairwells, in and out of rooms as they traversed The Hovel's maze-like construction. Andrew didn't understand what the glowing was or why it led him to this empty bunk room. The glow finally died out as the artificial light reflected off a pair of dog tags that rested on the ground. The name and service number had been crudely destroyed, but there was an air of familiarity as he read what remained of the information stamped into the thin metal. He couldn't quite place why he recognized this specific pair; but he knew them, he'd seen them somewhere or at least their former owner.

"Whatcha got there?" Jaq's voice broke his musings. She was standing right behind him.

"Dog tags. Not sure who they belong to. I recognize them though." Andrew stuffed the tags in an empty pouch and turned towards the rest of his team. "I know where we're headed next."

"You found the pad? Good, we ain't found shit." Sam shrugged. In the time between getting power restored and finding Andrew they hadn't found a single data-pad.

"No, there was no pad here. Just the remnants of an AI. She sent some kind of research to a sister station in Zeta Doradus. I'm skeptical about it though. Zeta Doradus is where Onyx was located. The planet was destroyed though. Unless there was something else in the system. C'mon let's get topside. I need to contact Admiral Osman anyway." Andrew began to make his way to the elevators. The others didn't miss the venom in his voice when he mentioned Osman. Something had to have happened down here to set him off. Sam was the first to notice Bertha's shredded receiver and pointed it out to King and Jaq.


UNSC Duskline

15:00 Local Time

"Andrew, do you have any idea what hour it is here in Sydney? I was just about to head home and go to sleep." Serin was less than pleased about the unexpected call.

"Well, Serin, I'm presently stuck in a blizzard on Trost. I figured I should tell you what I found in the Watershed Division facility attached to The Hovel." Andrew's voice was snarky at best and explicitly confrontational at worst.

"How did you get into a Watershed facility and why are you on Trost? Dead worlds are strictly off limits to all personnel. That includes your little investigation." Serin punctuated her words by tapping a finger on her desk.

"I'll answer those questions in a second, but I want to make one thing clear. My investigation has carte blanche to go where we need to when we need to. If we don't, I'll leak everything I'm about to tell you to the public. My records are squeaky clean compared to this." Andrew's threat caught the team off guard. They all knew how much leeway his records had granted them back in the day. They weren't just a threat, but a bargaining chip. His silence for whatever the team needed.

"And just what would that be," hissed Serin

"A biomedical research lab dealing with Flood infection and vaccination. Subsector Twelve. I don't have the full extent of the research, but I do have the journal entries from the head researcher. Sixteen samples down there. All in different stages of infection, frozen in cryo stasis. All there since just before we fired the ring to cleanse this system. We used The Hovel to house refugees during the Hundred Days War. At any point in time this planet could've been reinfected. Why were they conducting research here?" Serin didn't have an answer. She'd never heard of the project.

"I never authorized any projects involving the Flood in Delta Forti. Hammond, is what he said true?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll send you helmet footage now. The journal entries are dependent on whether the Spartan gets what he wants." Hammond's matter of fact tone caught Serin by surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"I've come to an agreement with Andrew. I'll report what he tells me to report. He doesn't trust the Office of Naval Intelligence. I would like for him to trust me. He is withholding the journal entries. I will not break his trust. Not even if I could break his network security." Hammond had to admire Andrew's security. The Spartan had allowed Hammond to poke and prod at it. What he found was a highly adaptive and unpredictable system, using varying levels of encryption that changed every fifteen minutes and malware attacks to counter would be intruders.

"What exactly do you want Andrew?"

"Unrestricted top-level clearance. I'm not just galivanting about. This terrorist has a specific flight plan for me. If I need to go somewhere, I need access to any and all facilities in the system. My team and the crew of the Duskline as well. You can pull that clearance once the mission is over, but until then we have carte blanche. Secondly, I want to stop being lied to. The facility AI mentioned something about Zeta Doradus. What's in Zeta Doradus that's important enough for Watershed to be there?" Andrew's demands were clear and for once Serin really didn't want to test his bluff.

"What have you been told about the Onyx Conflict?"

"Something activated the planet's sentinels. The Covies ended up coming to the planet and something destroyed it. No survivors. That's what my handlers used to say."

"They weren't entirely wrong, but they weren't right either. Catherine Halsey, Blue team members Linda-058, Kelly-087, and Frederick-104, SCPO Mendez and several other Spartan-III's made it into a Dyson sphere that was hidden within a Slipspace bubble in Onyx. We call it Sarcophagus. Using the huragok within the sphere we were successful in bringing it back into real space."

"What about Kurt?"

"Sacrificed himself to keep the Covenant from getting into the shield world. There's been a joint UNSC-SoS research colony there for a number of years now. I'll give you and your ship the clearance it needs. Don't use it lightly Spartan." Serin hoped that he'd find her answer good enough.

"Hammond, send Admiral Osman a copy of the journal. Report our findings from Subsector Ten as well." Andrew tapped his Tac-Pad, sending one copy of the files to a folder outside his secure network.

"Right away sir."

"My next destination is Sarcophagus in that case. I'll have Captain Sloane provide a supply requisition. Please make sure it gets there for us." Andrew pulled Bertha's carcass from its magnetic holster and set it on the holotable. "I'll also need a new SAW."

"What happened to that?" Serin cocked an eyebrow at the destroyed weapon.

"Watershed's pet Knight," he growled.

"I'll make sure you get a new model. The M751 is a drastic improvement. I'll speak to you later." With that, Serin cut the call. Andrew collected his weapon's remains and prepared to address the ship. Tapping the intercom, he cleared his throat before speaking.

"Attention all hands. This is Captain G199. After a discussion with CINCONI, it has been determined that this ship and its crew are to receive top level clearance. We have carte blanche to go anywhere without question. I expect you to act accordingly with this new privilege. Do not tell anyone where it is we are going without obtaining permission from Sloane or myself. That will be all."


June 29th

21:37 Local Time

The blizzard hadn't let up yet. According to atmospheric scans they'd be stuck on Trost for another day. Andrew didn't necessarily mind the down time. It allowed him to study what really happened at Onyx and see who made it out. For the first time in a long while it felt like O.N.I wasn't lying to him. It felt nice, like someone had dragged him out of the dark and into the sunlight.

The Spartan was presently in the ship's galley, enjoying a slice of apple pie a la mode and a cup of black tea. Watching the storm from the view port, he was mostly lost in his thoughts between bites of pie. He wasn't sure why the ship's chef had demanded that they have pie onboard, but he wasn't one to complain. His ear tilted back slightly at a noise approaching the galley and he knew just who it was.

"C'mon hurry up before someone notices."

"It's not my fault you forgot to grab it before we started," Jaq bit back at King.

"If you hadn't been so eager, I wou- Oh, uh, hey boss." Andrew turned around to see King and Jaq wrapped in towels. Both were covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"There's a can of whipped cream on the counter with your name literally on it." Andrew pointed to the kitchen and took a bite of his pie.

"Thanks, how did you-"

"I'm a Spartan, remember? We have super hearing. Last I checked we didn't bring two Ymir bears aboard," Andrew joked. King shuffled off to get the can Andrew had set out for them.

"So, you don't mind?" Jaq was kind of worried that they'd get an earful from him about code of conduct and whatnot.

"I figured you two would start shacking up eventually, little miss choke-me-harder. As long as your relationship doesn't get in the way of the mission." Jaq's face flushed red upon realizing he heard far more than she expected. Andrew chuckled through his satisfied smirk. Both of them could hear King trying to suppress his own laughter in the kitchen. Jaq came over and punched Andrew in the shoulder. "C'mon! You're gonna make me spill my pie."

"Jaq let's go, I've got the cream." King was halfway through the galley. Jaq skipped over and knocked him in the shoulder as well. "What the fuck?"

"That was for laughing at his shitty joke."

As the two left Andrew went back to watching the maelstrom outside. Sand and snow whipped through the air. He was almost lost in his thoughts again when Hammond spoke up. "Are you sure that encouraging them is a good idea?"

"Eh, they get caught by the higher-ups then they can worry. I'm not gonna tell them not to fuck." Andrew's nonchalance was intriguing to Hammond.

"Their relationship could jeopardize the mission."

Andrew seemed to think over Hammond's concern before coming to an answer. "Better than the weird sexual tension when we were in Lambda Rho. They were in a relationship before Phoenix was a team. They got separated in the evacuation of Trost and then she was added to our team. They used to flirt and shit, but never acted on feelings that hadn't gone away. I'd rather they get it out of their systems than be a distraction in the field."

Hammond mulled over his words. "I think I understand your point. Love is one of the emotions that I still have trouble understanding. I think the Office did that on purpose."

Andrew scooped up the last of his pie and ice cream, savoring the rich flavor before answering. "They did, better to have a compliant AI that doesn't form attachments than one that could go off the reservation. That's their reasoning, if you can call it that. Love is an interesting emotion. It's completely irrational and multifaceted. I love my teammates platonically. They're my brothers and sister. I love my dog because he's a loyal companion and can make bad days bright. I don't know if I've ever loved someone romantically."

Hammond digested the information. He was pleased that Andrew was willing to hold a conversation with him, even if it was something mundane like this. "It does sound rather irrational. I suppose that's to be expected though. Humans tend to be driven more by emotion than logic. I must ask, if you were to find yourself romantically attracted to someone, would you pursue that attraction?"

Andrew looked at the nearest security camera, locking eyes with the AI, so to speak. "That's an odd question Hammond. Though I haven't given that much thought to it. I suppose I would. I don't like letting my interests pass me by."

"I think I've learned quite a bit from this. Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Andrew. If someone needs me, tell them I'm doing physical training. I need to bust in the new leg." Andrew stood up and went to the kitchen, placing his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.


Log #50 Addendum:

O.N.I had some dark secrets hidden under the surface of Trost. Research involving the Flood and Prometheans. I can only hope that Osman will investigate these projects and put an end to them. We put so many at risk when we built the tent city in The Hovel's hangar. I wish I could've known then. Still, we saved a lot of people back during the war. Maybe one day O.N.I will change for the better. Maybe.

Last Update: June 27, 2581 21:00


Notes:

Here we are again, with the single longest chapter I've ever written. almost 10K words. Uploads are going to continue being spotty.