Action

"Well, I've sent the message out over the COM. Hopefully those UNSC troops fighting on the ground at the moment will get the message in time to expect some defectors."

"Thank you, General." Thel replied. "I hope that we do not cause too much unrest."

"What I'm worried about is the politics of it all." Blake shrugged. "I mean, clearly there's going to have to be something formalizing this new relationship, but – well, do you even have politicians in the Covenant?"

"The most skilled and talented of each race form the Council, which rules – or, rather, ruled – the Covenant in tandem with the Prophet Hierarchs. From what I have heard from my clansman, actually, two of the Hierarchs were slain in a melee in their chambers by their guards, who fled with as many of the Enlightened council as they could." Thel thought for a moment. "I would assume Orta 'Fulsamee is the closest thing to a leader of the Sanghelli. He is both a Councillor and accorded the armour of an Honour Guard, such is his skill. I was not informed of his death by my clansman, so he is likely to have been among those who escaped."

"Sorry – I know this must seem prosaic for me to keep asking these questions, but we've never managed to learn anything about the way the races of the Covenant work, so – clan?"

"I have the honour to be Kaidon of the Vadam." Thel straightened unconsciously. "Leader of the family, ruler of the province. Many of my partisans are on board this very ship – in preparation for my…" The next word had a strange emphasis, Thel's distaste coming across even in a non-native language. "…rebellion."

"So, some kind of noble lord then." Blake mused. "Again, sorry for my ignorance. Is it a hereditary position?"

"No – not quite. The heir is chosen by the previous leader from the family, and he must survive any assassins sent to kill him – to prove his worth." Thel's stance showed his pride once more. "I slew three."

"Wait, so you mean any Elite – any Sanghelli – Kaidon, has to be martially skilled?"

"Of course. His honour reflects upon his house."

Christine chuckled, reminding the others she was still there. "And, of course, General, it makes their recall elections a lot more interesting. You annoy half the clan, you're going to have to be really good to stay in power."

"You said province, er…"

"The correct term is Shipmaster," Christine cut in helpfully. "I'm not sure how name etiquette works apart from that, though – we spent most of the trip back working on English."

"Thank you, miss Williams. So, Shipmaster. You mentioned that your title included a province?"

"Indeed. On Sanghelios. It is a harsh land, but one to be prized – for harshness breeds strength."

"That's the Sanghelli homeworld, then. What's going to happen there?"

"With my sundering of the Covenant?" Thel shrugged, fatalistically. "I do not know. But I can hope most of my race will see the truth. Shipmaster Relkanee certainly did not."

This time, Thel saw the general preparing to ask the obvious question. "He was the Shipmaster of Silvered Crescent, which now rests in orbit of your world with its' bridge burned away. The ship is yours to study – I took care to damage it as little as possible. The holds should have ample quantities of most Covenant weapons to study as well."

"ONI is going to go nuts over this." Blake muttered. "Be like Christmas."

Thel looked away from the screen for a moment. "Ah, Sesa. Is your Phantom ready?"

Blake looked up sharply – that had been in the Covenant language, rather than English. It wasn't that he particularly thought the Shipmaster was trying to pull a fast one on him – it was just the natural suspicion of the military man.

It was his job, after all.

"It is, Shipmaster. I've made sure to tell Kelan to deactivate the cloak this time."

"Good. A moment, however." Thel turned to the screen again, and switched back to English. "General, is there a suitable colour that I could re-brand my vehicles to make their allegiance evident?"

"Anything but purple, really." Blake replied. "I'd guess you Covenant see in different colours to our eyes?"

"I believe it is broadly similar." Thel said, before frowning. "Though our vision progresses into weak ionizing radiation."

"That'll be it, then. We don't really see any of that. Hm… go with green – the colour of a plasma pistol shot. That's right in the middle of our perception. And it's the colour that's denoted 'good, safe, friendly' for centuries."

"You heard, Sesa?"

"I did, Shipmaster. It will take some time to make all the changes, however." The younger Elite gave a sudden grin. "I think it'll be obvious for now."

"True. Now, Williams." Christine looked up. "Sesa will return you to the planet. Would you rather he replace you where you were originally taken?"

"You mean my house?" She thought it over. "General, is Marcus available? Where is he?"

Williams looked away from his own camera for a moment, addressing an aide in the ops centre. "Wasn't he pulled from duty and put on personal leave?"

"Yes, sir. He should be at home now, actually."

"Well, there you are. He's right down there waiting for you."

Thel and Sesa exchanged glances. Military by trade, no matter that it was in the Covenant, they knew what kind of screwups would result from poor communication.

"Sesa, make sure you take overshields. I expect this Marcus will be angry."

Blake had come to a similar conclusion. "I'll order a Pelican escort flight."

"Sir!" One of Blake's aides said suddenly, one hand on his headphones. "Message just came over the interplanetary COM, there's a Covenant fleet attacking Seaford!"

Blake cursed. Seaford was the closest other colony to Spindle. "Confirm that the force is loyalists."

"Already confirmed, sir, their first move was to take out the space elevator and they're sending down landing forces in the Anvil."

A map of the sole inhabited continent of Seaford lit on screen. The Anvil was a peninsula around seventy miles across at its' widest point, and the connection to the main body of the continent was a high and rugged mountain range. The range was so high, in fact, that it created a blind area in the MAC gun coverage from the rest of the continent. The Covenant ground troops would have much weaker defences to deal with.

"Damn… what about the AA network there?"

"Glassed, sir. They hit hard and there's an Assault Carrier leading the strike force – that and a pair of BCs. No screen."

"They must be trying for a quick victory to shore up the Covenant." Blake thought aloud. "That's a lot of force for such a sparsely populated world. And we can't even stop them. What's the time estimate for the closest reaction force to reach Seaford?"

"Almost one month average transition time, sir. That's the closest there's a cruiser force available – at Skopje."

"All right. I'll order Night Templar to head to Seaford with what troops we can spare. See to it." Night Templar, along with Scheherazade, formed the small standing fleet of Spindle. Two frigates, intended to stop lone Covenant ships from being able to operate completely unopposed.

"Yes, sir." The aide paused. "Sir, the Shipmaster's picked up the change in readiness states. He's asking what's going on."

"Put him on, he deserves to know."

"You are missing the obvious answer, General."

"Shipmaster?"

"You do not only have two frigates at your disposal. More importantly, you do not only have UNSC Slipspace drives at your disposal." Thel thought for a moment, then his shoulders set. "Have both frigates load what troops you wish to send, then have them match my orbit. I will ferry them to Seaford by enclosing them in my own craft's Slipspace drive field."

"Will that work?"

"Not for all ships. But Retribution's Thunder is a destroyer, and has an unusually broad cross section for its volume – and since UNSC frigates are so small, they will fit beneath the wing structures and be inside the field."

"That'll certainly help us land reinforcements much faster. Thanks, Shipmaster."

"General, you misunderstand me. What are your frigates armed with?"

"One MAC gun, three Shiva nukes… the standard Archer pods, though those are pretty much popguns against a shielded enemy…"

"Good. Now. I know UNSC weaponry, since I was onboard ships at two major naval battles. And they are lethal, even to much larger Covenant ships – once the shields are down. We rely on shields over armour too much."

"Are you suggesting…"

"My ship has an energy projector, and two plasma torpedoes per broadside. I will give them the shot they need."

Blake fought down the rising wild hope, forcing himself to consider this rationally. "How are you going to avoid being ripped apart? Those ships are much heavier."

"Our larger ships are paradoxically often weaker. They are built as flagships, and they rely on their escorts and shielding to cover some angles – escorts that this commander failed to bring. We will get our bearings, and then jump right into a blind spot!"

"And when they turn?"

"We will have already left, to drop troops. One shot is all we will need." Thel gave a Sanghelli's grin. "You forget, I know the layout of an Assault Carrier. I know where the reactors and shields are, where the bridge is, where the weapon feed lines are."

"…good lord, I never considered that." Blake shook his head – it had been a hectic few hours. "I've got to start getting used to how much military intel we have now…"

"We must hurry, General." Thel admonished him. "Lives are being lost."

"Yes, true. Okay, I'm going to send a Pelican up to your ship with some UNSC COM units. That should let you coordinate with the frigates without broadcasting en clair, like you've been doing."

"My thanks."

"Well, this'll be different…" Commander Maclean said absently, as his Night Templar slid into a matched trajectory. "Check Scheherazade's position, we both need to be as close in to the Elite ship as possible."

"Scheherazade is adjusting, sir. They had a fault in one of their reactors, it's been taken out of circuit. Other three are reading green."

"Good." That might be a major maintenance casualty for a UNSC ship under normal operations, but this particular battle would have mitigating factors. For one thing, since the Elite ship was supplying the Slipspace jump Scheherazade would not be required to power it. For another, the MAC gun would have the chance to charge before the engagement. And while the refire rate would suffer substantially, one shot was all that would be needed.

"Frigates, this is Retribution's Thunder. I am opening the portal in one minute. Maintain station on my flanks."

"Affirmative, Retribution's Thunder." Maclean replied. "We are ready for transit. Last Pelican arrived five minutes ago."

"Fine work." The deep voice held what might be a note of approval, then the circuit went idle.

"Charge?"

"Full. The drive is ready."

"Then let us be on our way."

With the precision of a scalpel, the Covenant-built slipspace drive cut open the universe. A rippling curtain of white light erupted into being, and with little fanfare the odd fleet slid through.

For either of the frigates alone, it would have taken around a week to reach Seaford over the eighteen light years distance separating the two suns.

Retribution's Thunder made the entire trip in thirty-three minutes.

"Commander! We've arrived!"

"Already?" Maclean asked, shocked, then abandoned his lunch. On reaching the command deck and seeing the n-space environment, he shook his head. "I'd never have believed it… the rest of them arrived on schedule?" After a moment, he answered his own question. "Must have done, since it was only one portal took us out again."

"Frigates, we have arrived on the outskirts of the inner system." Thel explained over the COM. "Ready your ships for battle and charge your main gun. We will depart from this rally point as soon as we are ready for battle, and I have the targeting data for our insertion."

"How are we targeting this one, anyway?"

The voice was full of what Maclean thought had to be satisfaction. "Most of my ship is operating on a different battle-net frequency to normal. However, they can still receive and comprehend main-fleet chatter. In particular, the location of Measured Cadence, our target, as well as the lesser ships."

"Got it. Maclean out." The moment the COM was offline, Maclean turned to his command crew. "You heard the lizard! MAC gun loaded and charged, all Archer pods ready to go, and get those Marines back on their Pelicans – it won't be much longer before they drop." After a moment's thought, he went on. "And load one Shiva into the missile pods. Can't think of a better target."

Within ten minutes, the regroup was complete. Maclean felt slightly embarrassed about it having taken almost half as long to prepare for the attack as the entire FTL trip – but it couldn't be helped. Loading a Shiva missile was a delicate matter.

And, of course, Scheherazade's damaged reactor meant the charge time for the gun capacitors was much greater.

This time, Thel had the two frigates take up a very particular position relative to his ship. They were still under the wing structures, but this time the ship as a whole was angled differently and the frigates were much closer in.

After about a minute of slight adjustments, Thel pronounced himself satisfied.

"Our weapons are charged?"

"Yes, Shipmaster." The navigator replied, having been checking their charge state as often as he checked the Slipspace drive. "Additionally, our sublight engine capacitors are loaded for redistribution, to reduce the time taken for the second jump charge."

"Good. All main guns, fire at the Carrier on my mark once we emerge! Frigates, you have your targets – hold fire until the shields go down. Fear not, we will be close enough that travel time matters little."

"Damnit." Lt. General Stewart said to himself, watching on his eyepiece as his forces in the Anvil fell back as best they could.

He was calling up all the reserves – and in the UNSC, there were a lot of reserves – but he didn't hold too much hope. True, the Covenant would have trouble conquering the planet, but all they really needed was to capture or destroy his five remaining MAC gun emplacements. With them gone, the surface of Seaford would be easily glassed.

He estimated that he had about a fifty percent chance of holding out until naval reinforcements arrived. That was assuming there were reinforcements on the way at all, of course – he'd been too busy orchestrating fighting retreats and preventing his troops bunching up enough for orbital fire to destroy them since the initial attack, for him to take time checking if Seaford was considered important enough to reinforce.

Half his heavy armour was cooling slag after the planet's secondary armoury took a devastating hit with an energy projector from a BC. That was unsalvageable. What he had to do now was keep his head, and keep things under control. Hard to do when an hour ago he'd been enjoying a hike in the mountains, and was having to use portable command gear since transport was still on the way.

The planetary AI, Vulcan, sounded in his earpiece. "Slipspace rupture detected."

"What now?" He asked, infuriated. "If they've got another bloody ship coming in, I'll-"

It so chanced that he was looking up at the time. While he didn't see exactly what transpired, the flash of light off the clouds cued him in that something had happened.

Before Retribution's Thunder had even fully exited Slipspace, it fired a complete salvo. All weapons, straight ahead.

Thel's crew didn't have any difficulty finding their target. Measured Cadence was barely two miles away, and they were pointing straight at the centre of her spine from above.

The attack was a total surprise for the Assault Carrier. They'd detected the rupture, but had assumed – as everyone had, UNSC or Covenant – that it was a Covenant vessel. There simply hadn't been time for a UNSC reaction.

Technically an accurate assessment, but lacking in details.

Measured Cadence' shields overloaded instantly as four plasma torpedoes, one energy lance and massed pulse laser fire burned them away from point blank range. The weapons were near speed-of-light, giving no reaction time over this kind of distance.

Retribution's Thunder continued to fire pulse lasers at the enemy assault carrier, targeting those scant gun emplacements on the enemy vessel's dorsal surface, and diverted the rest of her power to recharging the Slipspace drive.

Not much more than a second after the burst of energy fire, the two UNSC Frigates struck. Their own armament was much slower-travelling than Covenant technology, but Thel had brought them in so close that the disparity was minor.

Archer missiles volleyed from all over both ships at maximum rate, tearing away more of the Cadence and targeting her energy feeds to the guns.

"Shot!" Maclean's tac officer called, and the frigate shook like a sea-ship in a storm as the enormous spinal coilgun spat 600 tons of tungsten at 30 kps.

The MAC gun round crossed the distance in a tenth of a second, and smashed through Measured Cadence' upper works straight into her reactor complex.

Scheherazade's MAC gun shot hit half a second later in the secondary reactor system, and Retribution's Thunder opened their exit portal a second after that.

All three ships ceased fire, jumping to safety shortly before the Measured Cadence' reactors went critical and she violently exploded.

The Shiva missile that blasted the wreckage was sheer redundancy.

"Sir – general!" An aide cut in on Stewart's channel. "We don't know what just happened, but - a Covenant ship just came out of a Slipspace portal with two UNSC ships, alpha-striked the assault carrier and blew it to hell!"

"That doesn't make sense." Stewart replied. "On more than one level."

"Make sense or not, sir, there's the burning remains of an assault carrier losing orbit and falling into the Anchor Ocean. And that same Covvie ship just reappeared over our north pole – they and the UNSC ships are launching transports. Sir, the UNSC ships are Spindle's standing fleet! ID checks out, ship class, even the commanders."

"General." The planetary AI cut in. "A relevant COM transmission that was awaiting your arrival at the operations centre may explain this."

Stewart listened to his Spindle counterpart without comment, mind racing, as the Pelican that had been sent to reach him an hour ago finally arrived at his position.

"Thank you, Elite." Stewart said, once their COMs had been connected. "With these reinforcements – especially the armour – and the carrier destroyed, I can hold the line of the mountains unless another Covenant carrier ship arrives."

"I doubt there will be another." Thel replied, glancing to one side at a battlenet transceiver. "This fleet was en route through the area – the next closest large Covenant formation is a substantial distance away. Even if they do make it here, it will not be substantially ahead of any reinforcement from your own systems."

"That's good to know. And I'm sure my troops in the field will appreciate having less Elites to fight – it was always the shields that gave us greatest trouble."

"Interesting." Thel murmured, analyzing the data readouts from both UNSC and Covenant sensor equipment. "Our foe has made an error."

"What is it?"

"Look." He highlighted the placements of Covenant troops, which were driving in hard on a retreating column of UNSC troops – restrained to moving at the speed of their transport 'hogs, letting the faster Covenant antigravity vehicles such as Spectres swarm around them.

The other, an Ultra, examined the area for a moment. Then he grinned. "I see it. They have neglected to maintain anti-air cover, since the AA Wraiths are not fast enough for the pursuit."

"Indeed." The Covenant forces attempting to trap the UNSC column were relying entirely on aircraft for air defence, and the dozen or so remaining heavy weapon warthogs were preventing them from close top cover.

The result was an area, within line of sight of the column, where "friendly" aircraft could go without being shot down – if they could get there in the first place.

"Are our fighters ready?" Thel asked.

"I had them on standby as soon as we jumped from Spindle. What do you want us to do?"

Not replying directly, the Zealot opened a channel to the human general. "General. How many fighters and bombers do you have available that are ground attack capable?"

The general blinked, swaying slightly as his Pelican banked around towards his sunken command post. "Hm. Not sure. Vulcan? Local combat aircraft strength?"

With a calm voice, the AI responded. "Longsword fighters – thirty five. Eight designated as attached to naval ships, remainder on ground bases. All at short launch availability. Shortsword bombers – twelve. All at ground bases."

"I recommend arming the bombers for a general air strike. The fighters would be best served by air to air missiles."

"I'm not sure what you're suggesting." Stewart said, frowning. "We don't have the strength to punch through that air cover, not even the ring around the column from Gadget base."

"I can lend you my Seraphs. They will strip the enemy of their shields, and your fighters will rend them from the sky."

Stewart was now climbing out of the dropship, his movements slightly distracted by the conversation. "Vulcan. Evaluate plan as stated."

"Probability of insertion success given air patrol density, 95%. Strike success dependant on ground air cover-"

"There is none." Thel said, authoritatively. "Nothing purpose built, at least. Spectres are the only Covenant ground-effect vehicle with both air-attack capability and the speed to match the chase."

"Recalculating. Strike success probability near certain. Spectre ground fire has potential for minor damage only to Shortsword bombers. Exfiltration probability high, dependent on speed of Covenant fighter response."

"To be able to get those men out…" Stewart said, considering. "Thank you once more, Elite. Vulcan, get the operations orders underway."

PFC Alexander Higgs' mouth was dry, his eyes stung with lack of sleep, and his shoulder still burned from a bolt of plasma fire that had struck a glancing hit.

He was still better off than many in his unit. The strike on Gadget base had come with terrifying suddenness, and about half the force in off-watch rotation hadn't been able to get out of the barracks before a plasma torpedo incinerated them.

The memories danced behind his eyes. The Phantoms, swooping down out of a sky wracked with explosions. Drones swarming, cutting down the few who'd reached the defensive emplacements in time. His sergeant, the man who'd trained them to be the soldiers they were, vanishing in an eye-searing explosion of pink as Needler rounds combined.

Somehow he'd made it to the motor pool ahead of an irregular charge of huge Brutes, and worked the gauss gun on the back to keep Banshees and Ghosts alike from hitting them.

Somehow-

"Hey, Boson!" Someone yelled, and he snapped out of his reminiscence, keeping the muzzle of the gauss gun sweeping his sector.

"Don't fall asleep on us, you hear? Take another stim."

"Yes sir." He replied, keeping one hand on the gun grips and fumbling the combat stim from his body armour with the other. He'd already had two to shock him into wakefulness, since he'd barely had two hours sleep when the attack came in, but apparently the "maximum safe dosage" wasn't enough.

Alexander hoped the "safe" part was generous.

His eyepiece flashed into view, careting a target the size of a speck as the planetary AI correlated information from god-knew-where to spot a Banshee making a run. An aim point appeared as well, and he swung the heavy gun to match the indicator – then moved it a tiny fraction to the right, and fired.

The movement was something he'd developed last time a Banshee came over in his sector. It moved the aim point – when successful – from the armoured front piece to the stabilizer struts.

The effects of a successful hit were already visible – the Banshee's caret was tumbling. A second shot into the centre of the marker, and the high speed tungsten slug made a neat hole in the aircraft's underbelly, smashing electronics and probably killing the pilot. Mission kill, at any rate.

"Task force update." Vulcan said, as calmly as if they were on exercises. "Friendly airstrike on route. All troops hold fire on aircraft unless targeted via main command."

"What?" someone asked. "Why can't we just shoot down whatever Covvie aircraft we spot?" Rapid firing underlay the question, sound bleeding through from the firefight on the eastern flank of the convoy – another Spectre making a run, by the shivering plasma gun sound audible through the roar of a half dozen .50 cal guns.

"Friendly assets include Seraph fighters." Vulcan answered.

The COM net went silent for a moment, enough that Higgs could hear the gunfire over the sound of his own 'hog engines. There was an explosion, and the firing cut off.

"You kidding me?"

"What?"

"How the-"

Questions filled the channel for several seconds, everyone talking over one another, until something cut through the chatter – the task force senior officer, a Major, given priority by the system. "Alright, cut the chatter. We don't know how, but that doesn't matter – we have our orders. Hell, maybe it's related to whatever blew up the carrier. So man your guns and don't shoot down whatever's saving our asses!"

Higgs checked his gun. At least a hundred rounds reserve, which should be enough. Gaussgun penetrators weren't all that large – speed, not mass, was their primary killer – meaning that the standard magazine on the 'hog could hold large amounts.

Plasma fire scorched across the sky, three lines converging on a Seraph fighter for a moment before flicking on to another target as the shields failed.

A trail of flame marked the position of an ASGM-10 missile, which hit the now-vulnerable Seraph and smashed it out of the sky.

"Splash one!" called the Longsword pilot, confirming his kill. "Damn, but look at those Elites go!"

"I'm sure glad they're on our side now," his wingman said, "Else we'd be cooked. Targeting… locked. Fox three!"

The age-old call was derived from US military jargon from the twentieth century, and essentially meant 'missile with active radar launched'. Nobody used Fox One – semi-active radar – anymore, except for strikes against point defence targets like ships; Fox Two, heat seeker, were much more common thanks to the prevalence of plasma weaponry amongst the Covenant.

Another Seraph exploded, pinwheeling out of the sky in a ball of flame.

"Splash one."

"Nice work, Dom!"

"Friendlies coming over in five; ten seconds to strike."

"Check your IFF!" someone yelled, and UNSC drivers up and down the column glanced at their 'hog instrument panels, setting their IFF transponders to signal.

Anything moving on the ground without a UNSC IFF was about to have a very bad day.

The Shortswords banked around over the column, releasing their payloads where centrifugal force and momentum would fling them to their designated areas. The occasional plasma bolt struck their wings, but most went wide – unlike the UNSC troops, Covenant vehicle turrets had no computer aiming assistance.

Twelve bomb bays opened, spilling munitions downwards like deadly rain.

Each was equipped with four air burst thermobaric warheads and eight hardened penetrator "earthquake" bombs, with a combined explosive yield per Shortsword of sixty-four tons.

The thermobaric bombs, fuel-air warheads, went off first as they reached three metres in height. Fuel sprayed out in a fine mist driven by high pressure, then a spark detonated all of it at once in a thunderous explosion.

Overpressure and thermal bloom killed well over half the Covenant vehicle drivers and passengers, and smashed the more fragile vehicles to pieces if they were close to the blasts.

The penetrators rode out the explosion, as they were built to do, and plunged deep into the ground before detonating. The blasts momentarily created artificial underground caverns, camouflets, which erupted into the air and flung huge rock "shrapnel" all over the place.

Few Covenant light vehicles survived, and the Longswords made one pass with rotary cannons raving to shred what of the pursuit force was left.

"Gadget actual here. Thanks, command, you've cut us clear. We're on our way home."

"Good news, Major. I'll pass on your thanks to those involved."

"Not a bad day's work." Maclean said, watching his screen displaying the tactical situation. Two Covenant battle cruisers were a substantial force, true, but did not have either the troops or the shield density to successfully glass Seaford.

The destroyed assault carrier was the big prize, of course. That many loyalists killed by a small force of allies – and Thel was transmitting it over the battlenet and COM alike – would raise the morale of UNSC and separatist troops while unsettling the Covenant.

"Commander, this is General Stewart. Thanks for the reinforcements. We're sending the fighters and dropships back up now – except for four Seraphs which the Shipmaster lent us. I understand they'll be making their own way back."

"Acknowledged. We'll jump out as soon as Retribution is ready and all gear stowed."

Memory

Two energy blades met with a clash and a sizzle, plasma bleeding out where the two fields fought for dominance.

One of the fighters toggled his blade off-on in a fraction of a second, stepping back to dodge the other sword and letting his opponent overbalance with the loss of pressure.

The other rolled, turning his stumble into a lunge, and his sword kissed the throat of his foe just as that foe pressed a deactivated energy dagger into his chest.

Both stayed frozen for a moment, then they disengaged.

"Good work, Spartan." Sesa observed, inspecting the energy dagger that his opponent returned. "You took it off me earlier. When?"

"Two minutes ago." John-117 replied. "The last prise de fer."

"I remember. Your skill with the blades is improving – you should carry that sword into battle with you next time. I feel confident you will not dishonour the blade."

"Well, uh… thanks." The Master Chief took the blade he'd been sparring with, turned it back to full power, and put it in one of the magnetic pouches on his armour before suiting up again.

"Why do you wear that all the time?" Sesa asked. "Elites wear their harnesses, but they're not as enclosing as your armour."

"I'm… used to it." There was a finality in his voice that said the discussion was over.

"If you two have stopped trying to give one another new scars," Cortana commented lightly over the intercom, "We've nearly reached our emergence point. Report to the main muster bay for briefing."

"Alright, so I know a lot of you have been wondering where we're going."

There was a rustling from the massed passengers and off-shift crew of the Sagittarius. The war with the Covenant was still settling down, and a lot of those onboard had indeed questioned the wisdom of sending a modern battlecruiser like Sagittarius off on a long trip such as this – and with such skilled personnel as the Master Chief or Sesa 'Refum onboard, as well.

"Thankfully, I can answer some of those questions." Cortana brought up a map on the main holotank, of an area of Harvest. "Some of you may remember what happened with the Spirit of Fire, but for those who either didn't pay attention to the news or who happen not to be human, here's the details.

"Spirit of Fire was a colony ship retrofitted into a warship, and was involved in both Second Harvest and Arcadia." The holotank ran through the series of battles, noting both ancient Forerunner installations. "The ship repeatedly clashed with a Covenant fleet, including the most recent Arbiter. After Arcadia, both forces vanished completely from the face of the galaxy, and we had no idea what happened to them.

"Now, however, with the capture of High Charity and the private records of the Hierarchs, we know where they went."

There was a low gasp as the holotank shimmered, creating the image of a Forerunner Shield World.

"To cut a long story short, the Covenant fleet didn't return. We believe Spirit of Fire to have survived but lost FTL capability. We're going to see if there's anything left of the ship – and, of course, of the artificial planetoid. While the records weren't specific, they described another force besides Spirit of Fire's crew on the planetoid. If it turns out that Forerunner sentinels were active there, we'll need the firepower.

"Any questions?"

"Normal space transition in three… two… one…mark."

Reality broke over the bow of Sagittarius, and the chaos of the slipstream became the deep black of n-space.

"Transfer complete. Impulse drives optimal, shields at standby."

"Scanning…" the ship's AI, Chiron, reported. "No evidence of the shield world. Signs of recent supernova, around twenty years ago at a guess. Wait, there's something… it's an encrypted signal, using standard UNSC encryption as of 2530. Keeps repeating, I'm triangulating the source. Here, listen."

"This is UNSC AI serial number SNA 1292-4, of the Spirit of Fire. We are operating under low power and with no Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine, attempting to return to human space by slower than light travel. Any ships in the area please offer assistance. This message is set to repeat at regular intervals, in case of further system damage. This is UNSC AI…"

"Well, they survived," someone commented. "But they sound in a bad way."

"Any progress, Chiron?"

"Yes, captain." Sagittarius moved, turning to an orientation with the bow pointed at around sixty degrees to the core of human space. "The source is several light-months away, and moving fast. Preparing for slipspace jump."

"So, they're in that direction?"

"No. But this will let me gain a second vector. I need two direction-time coordinates to know where to jump, since their position and acceleration are unknown."

"Well, there she is."

Sagittarius drifted alongside the huge UNSC ex-colony ship, her seventeen hundred metres appearing small compared to the two-and-a-half kilometre Spirit.

"Via… look at the size of those holes in the armour…" one of the bridge crew muttered. "She must have been through one hell of a lot."

"I'm not detecting many life signs – a couple of dozen, all clustered around the bridge. None of the radio arrays are still intact and receiving power. Could be they finally wore out." Chiron catalogued the ship's status on the main screen. "Two power plants still running, one fore and one aft. Hydroponics… there's at least two facilities in the area with human life signs. Nothing else I can give you, Captain – the ship's refit was somewhat ad hoc, to say nothing of what repairs may have happened since Second Harvest. I don't have sufficiently detailed schematics."

"Understood. We'll have to insert a team." Captain Maclean nodded to himself, considering. "Actually, make it two. One to the bridge and one to the aft power plant – see if we can cut the power to the engines. It'll be much easier to sort things out if that ship's not accelerating all the time."

"Aye, captain. I'll let Cortana know." The avatar's lips quirked. "I think I can guess one person who she'll pick."

"Okay, Chief, I want your squad to head to the bridge – since your fire team one is composed of Spartans, that should reassure the command crew of Spirit that we're friendly. Your pick of fire team two."

"Got it."

"Sesa, take your squad to the aft fusion room on deck seven and get the engines offline. I'll walk you through the process once you're there. Both of you, restrict your team loadouts to mainly close quarters weapons. No point taking a rocket launcher. But keep some demo charges on hand, in case of sealed or badly damaged doors."

"Understood."

"I don't think you'll need that." John-117 said, shaking his head at Linda-058. "The sight lines won't be long enough for a sniper rifle."

She 'smiled' at him and swapped it for a battle rifle with plasma charger, which went on her back with a SOCOM pistol on her hip. "I'm a sharpshooter. It's what I do."

"Cheer up, John." Kelly said, taking her own preferred weapons. "I'm more than making up for her." So saying, she held up the M90 Close Assault Munitions Launcher – a particularly interesting weapon much prized for shipboard combat, it was colloquially known as the "needle shotgun".

Each cartridge contained fifteen small crystal shards, with seven being sufficient to cause a supercombination explosion. The individual shards were too small to do much damage beyond that of a normal shotgun and they glanced right off solid objects such as metal bulkheads – making it devastating at short range but harmless to equipment.

John sighed. "You don't really think we'll need that?"

Kelly shrugged. "Better safe than sorry." She picked up a point defence gauntlet - a 'jackal shield - and slipped it over one arm. "I'm the point element, anyway."

Two Pelican-IV dropships sat in the fore starboard boat bay. Four Spartan-II, three Marines, one Sanghelli and a Kig-yar filed into the first, five Sanghelli with two Marines and two Unggoy into the second.

With a thrum of impulse drives, the dropships lifted and slid through the monopermeable forcefield bay door.

"There's an open bay on the lower decks, there." Cortana said, via the Chief's speaker system. "About amidships. Take us into it, it'll be easier than burning through the armour belt."

"Aye, sir," the pilot replied. "You want the other dropship in there too?"

"Yes. It'll be quite a walk to get to our objectives, but it's probably better if we have both Pelicans in the same place."

Accelerating to maintain station with Spirit of Fire, the two dropships slid sideways into the bay and settled down.

"Artificial gravity still works." Cortana commented, surprised. "I'd have expected it to fail after so long – especially if the ship's got so few crew for maintenance."

"Spread out." Sesa told his team. "Secure the door to the ship proper. Someone establish a shield at the spaceward side of the bay, so we don't lose all the ship air if this isn't an airlock."

A Marine and one of the Unggoy headed back into the dropship for one of the deployable shield walls, then hefted it between them towards the open bay door.

Kelly was the first to reach the door, slapping a sensor pack onto it. "Atmosphere green on the far side… diagnostics show okay… this should be a functioning airlock door. But we can't take the risk, you're right."

Erecting the shield wall was the work of only a minute; Cortana confirmed it was sealed tight and there were no other openings to space in the hanger.

"Alright, opening…"

There was a hiss, and air escaped from the airlock to fill the hanger bay to a few millibars. "Inner door looks secure. Space for about one fire team per go."

The Chief gestured to Sesa. "You've got further to go."

"Thank you, Spartan."

Blue team moved quickly and quietly down the corridors of Spirit of Fire, senses alert for signs of movement or electronic emissions. Detritus festooned the occasional open area, from files to chairs, and half the doors they ran into were badly damaged.

"This place looks like it underwent massive acceleration…" Cortana said, half to herself. "The artificial gravity's still on, but maybe they were manoeuvring so extremely it overcame the system's ability to compensate."

"Gives me the creeps…" one Marine from the second team muttered, checking his shield levels out of nervousness. "It's so empty. Like a ghost ship or something."

Kelly called from ahead. "Look. A guide marker."

There was an arrow painted on the floor with a star, leading through a door.

"Must be the bridge. That's where we're headed. Nice find."

Vren 'Telum secured his breaching charge to a door that had malfunctioned and locked shut, then he and the rest of Sesa's task force took cover.

Most of the plasma contained in the device was expended in burning through the door, and relatively little backblasted away in either direction.

"How much further?" Sesa asked, seemingly of the air.

"About one hundred metres to the reactor room." Cortana answered him. "The Spartan team's just reached a sealed door themselves, I'll let you know if anything important turns up. Secure the engine room and report in."

"Understood. Thol, point. Chris, you're second."

Both indicated soldiers hefted their shotguns – one regular, one needle – and moved ahead, scanning side passages as they walked.

"Still nowhere I can plug in…" Cortana said, frustrated. "This AI, Serina… she'll be decades old now. She might have gone rampant, might have… I don't know." Her tone lightened slightly, though there was a bit of strain behind it. "I certainly don't understand why they apparently welded the doors to the central bridge area shut, they could have just locked them."

Kurt hefted a plasma repeater. "Shall I burn it open?"

"Motion tracker shows all clear on the other side of the door, but there could be someone asleep – try knocking on it first, let them know someone's here."

As Blue team clustered around the door, the second fire team – call-sign Blizzard – moved automatically to cover the approaches.

"Hey, Kath." Blizzard two called to the lone Kig-yar on their team. "You really think that thing's appropriate gear?"

Blizzard four, Kath, glanced down at his needle rifle and then back up. "Don't see why not. It's a great weapon. Good for long range, good for big targets…"

"Yeah, but this is all close quarters. Not much call for accuracy in a brawl."

The Kig-yar grinned, showing lots of teeth, and pointed out his sidearms – a Brute Mauler and a plasma pistol.

"You got an answer for everything, don't ya." Blizzard three quipped.

"Just because he wins every marksman competition we do…" the Sanghelli, Blizzard five, replied with a laugh.

The laugh stopped abruptly when the Kig-yar made a violent gesture. Not at his team, but for their benefit – it was Alliance tactical sign language. Quiet.

He listened for a few seconds, then slowly brought the needle rifle up to firing position and double-checked his shields.

"Something out there." He whispered into the fire team net. "Blue leader, this is Blizzard four. Unknown movement heard."

"Understood." Chief replied.

"We're about to breach the door." Cortana said, almost over the top of him. "Stay alert."

Tapping a control, Kath slaved his eyepiece to the needle rifle's main sensors and began sweeping the corridor, using his acute sense of sight to substitute in for hearing.

The explosion wouldn't deafen him, but it would cause his reactive earplugs to block sound.

"The door area clear?"

"Think so." Kurt said, priming a long strip of explosive intended to bust the entire door open. "First time I knocked on the door, tracker picked up some kind of panic. I did the 'shave and a haircut' tune, and they seem to have relaxed a bit. We won't know until we do it, but there wasn't any movement close to the door anyway."

"Right." Chief held up three fingers, and Kurt nodded. He squeezed the trigger three times, then paused, then once more, which primed the detonator for three seconds and set it going. Both Spartans stood back.

"The area's clear. That's what I don't understand." Chris, one of Sesa's human troops, said as he swept the area with his shotgun. "And I don't mean there's nothing on the floor, I mean… this doesn't look like it's been running for months without maintenance."

"True." Thol said, walking over to a panel. After his success with the Forerunner communication outpost, he'd become something of a computer expert out of interest. "Hm. Last access was three days ago."

"What? But all the humans are in the front of the ship. And they couldn't have got through that door. Was there an access route we missed or something?"

"I have got a bad feeling about this…" an Unggoy said, looking around and fingering the grip of his pistol.

It was mainly luck that prevented a firefight. The moment the door blew, two blurs in green-metallic armour charged out with shotguns levelled – and stopped dead on seeing the four other suits of MJOLNIR armour just outside the door.

"The hell?" One of them said, in a voice that sounded familiar to the Spartans.

"Alice, look." The other pointed. "A rabbit – it's Kelly!"

"Alice? Douglas? You're alive!" Linda said, delighted. "Where's Jerome?"

"He… didn't make it." Douglas replied, sadly. "Wait, what the hell is an Elite and a Jackal doing over there?"

"The war's over." John said, reassuringly.

Cortana elaborated. "The Sanghelli – the Elites – changed sides along with most of the Grunts, Hunters and Jackals, which are more properly called Unggoy, Lekgolo and Kig-yar. We're allies now. This is a retrieval mission."

The two Spartans of Red team looked at one another, then back to Blue team.

"We've got to get out of here – now!"

"Why?" John asked. "We sent a team to the engine room to shut off the engines, we're going to be able to salvage everything we can."

"No, you don't understand. This part of the ship – the part behind the sealed doors – is the only safe place."

A grizzled old Marine pushed past Red Team. "Your team's lost. The Flood will have got them."

Everyone in Blue team started in shock.

"Flood?" Cortana asked, as if in disbelief. "Captain! Most of the ship is infested with Flood! Noah contingency protocols in effect!"

From Blizzard's position just down the corridor, gunfire began.

Sesa kicked in his jetpack, lifting into the air, and a fusillade of fire from his paired plasma rifles ripped a combat form to shreds as it tried to jump down on him. "Cortana, the Flood appear resistant to plasma weaponry but it still works." Carbine shots flashed past him, doing very little to another Flood form. "Accuracy based weapons no use – these creatures have no vital organs."

Two Flood went down to a shotgun blast, and another exploded in a cloud of pink mist. "Shotgun type weapons both effective!" Chris called over the channel, and flinched as an infection form burst on his shields. "The little sods can't handle shields – we're in luck!"

"Stay focused. We only have so much ammunition."

A Marine nearly down as assault rifle fire from the upper floor overloaded his shields, and a carbine shot burst the infection form that tried to jump him.

"Thanks." The marine shouted, diving into a corner to wait for recharge.

Sesa switched to sword-and-dagger, and cleared the top balcony in a furiously balletic display of skill. "Fall back to the dropships! Orderly retreat!"

"This is the Captain. I'm sending in a relief force with more ammunition and heavier weapons. What do you advise?"

"The energy sword seems to shred them easiest, but anything that relies on mass tissue damage should work." Thol suggested, and fired his carbine again. This time, the chest of the infected human he hit seemed to 'burst', and it collapsed like a puppet with strings cut. "Thol here. There's a small Flood – an infector – inside each of the infected humans. Destroy it and it seems to become lifeless." He shot another infection form that tried to burrow inside the corpse. "They can replace one another, though."

"It appears their usual strategy is to pin their targets with the infested bodies, and then infest them. Likely they used all the dead bodies on Spirit of Fire as a starting force. But their tactic is less effective against shields."

"There's always something." Chris blew his target away with a shotgun blast, and saw it fall apart completely from the force. "Hey, someone wreck those bodies! We don't want them to have more to infect."

"We are unlikely to make it to the midships hanger before we get cut off, Captain." Sesa observed as the team finally broke out of the open space of the engine room, shotgun-armed soldiers on point and rearguard.

"Understood. The relief force headed for your position isn't going to enter the ship itself – instead, they'll pick you up."

Another Flood exploded in a blast of pink mist, but this time it had managed to get in close – a Marine's arm was broken, and he switched his now-unusable assault rifle for a plasma pistol. "Argh! Sunova…"

"How they pick us up?" A grunt asked curiously, firing a high-explosive pistol round at a Flood combat form and blowing the arm off.

"Everyone!" Sesa called, realizing the captain's plan. "Set shields to lockdown!"

"Bringing starboard lance to power. Dropships are in position."

"Take the shot, Chiron."

"Firing."

A bluish-white beam of ionized particles sliced into the Spirit of Fire, about fifty metres in front of the foremost transponder from Sesa's team. Air boiled out of the hole along with dozens of Flood combat forms, hundreds of Infection forms that exploded in the vacuum and nine soldiers in powered armour.

The pair of Pelican-IVs assigned to that section disgorged eight jetpack equipped Sanghelli Rangers, who each caught one of Sesa's troops and ferried them back to the Pelican before asphyxiation and depressurization could be fatal. Sesa himself made use of his customary jetpack to land in the bay of one of the Pelicans.

"Come on, hurry!" Sergeant Forge called, voice rasping. "Someone pull Serina, we've got to get out of here!"

Everyone who came through the door was carrying a shotgun or assault rifle, with as much spare ammunition as they could easily carry. They would have to protect the sides of the evacuation column themselves – Blizzard team with the addition of Kurt's plasma repeater were busy breaking trail for them.

"Alice, Douglas. Central reserve." John ordered. "Linda, shoot off any infectors that get too close. Kelly, you're with me, we're rearguard."

Kelly 'grinned', and cocked her needle shotgun. "First in, last out. Is the assault rifle good enough?"

"I've got other arrangements." John pulled the energy sword from his hip, checked the power levels, and lit it.

"Neat. That from Sesa?"

"Yes." John checked the Spirit of Fire's bridge. "Anyone still in here?"

"Just me." The elderly Captain James Cutter walked up to him, a standard AI transfer chip in one hand and a shotgun in the other. "Lead the way, Spartan." As he got moving, he slipped Serina's chip into his personal communication unit to let her speak.

Needles shot down the corridor, burying themselves in Flood in neat trios before blowing them apart. The barrage lasted about a second, then stopped.

The rest of Blizzard team kept firing as Kath replaced his needle rifle cartridge. "I start to see what you mean – ammunition is becoming a problem." A Flood loomed out of the darkness to his side, and exploded in a blast of pellets as Kath dropped the rifle onto a sling mid-reload to fire his Mauler.

"Motion tracker's going crazy – how many Flood are there?"

"Full complement for Spirit of Fire was eleven thousand." An unfamiliar female voice said wearily. "I don't have exact figures on how many died off the ship, but there are probably thousands on board."

"Who is this?"

"Serina. I'm the AI for Spirit – I was, anyway."

"Is there a faster way back to the second port docking bay? That's where our dropships are landed." Kurt asked, before cursing as his plasma repeater overheated with the sustained fire.

"Two corridors down, there's a large repair area for the bomber complement. It should still be pressurized, and it leads all the way to the docking bay. Turn right… now!"

Blizzard two skidded to a halt as the rest of the group made their turn, covering the corridor they'd turned off from, and threw a fire grenade to block the passage before reentering the flow of the column.

Plasma and heavy-calibre bullets pulsed from the chin guns of the two Pelican-IVs in the port boat bay, the torrent of heavy fire keeping the passage to their bay impassable for any of the Flood trying to gain entry.

"We really kicked the hornet's nest, command!" Lt. Natasha reported, reducing her fire rate as temperature readings climbed. "I don't know how the evacuees are going to make it into the bay, there's movement streaming along the lateral corridors towards us and they'll be buried in Flood!"

"I have a plan." Serina's tired voice cut in. "I'm leading them to the adjacent maintenance bay, and the divider's a single blast door – we should be able to get it open somehow."

"You got it, lady." Natasha said, and clicked onto the channel for her wingmate. "Hey, Firedrake? Ease up on the .50, we don't want to run out."

"My plasma's getting near overheat, Saker."

"Mine's still got some life – sequence fire. Cut your fire, I'll keep it on, and be ready to switch on my mark!"

"Understood."

Kurt charged through the door to the maintenance bay, and swore. "John! There's some kind of big Flood thing in here! Looks bigger than a Hunter and twice as tough!"

Blizzard team followed him, and spread out as the ponderous tank form began to lumber towards them. Empty munitions pallets crushed under its' weight, and a replacement cannon system for a Longsword went flying as it began picking up speed.

Half a dozen needles stitched through the air to hit it in centre of mass, and the combination explosion blew great chunks of biomass from its' torso. Three more blasted a leg apart, and it collapsed with a scream.

Kath gave a brief human-style victory gesture. "You like that?"

"Keep moving, soldier." Blizzard one ordered. "We don't know if there are more like it nearby. Keep a wide berth."

The monster twitched and writhed, its' body rapidly deforming as it shrunk to some other shape. Plasma grenades hit it in three places, finally killing it as their combined explosion filled the area with heat and gas.

"Door's shut – release mechanism's gone." Linda reported, having reached the door first, and swept her battle rifle to cover one of the two main entrances into the maintenance area.

"Yank me, Captain." Serina said, suddenly determined.

"Serina?"

"I said yank me. Put me in one of the fighters undergoing refit – I'll knock the door down with the autocannon."

"We might not have time to retrieve you – you've got to-"

"I'm not going to let everyone die here. And I refuse to let my last act be a mistake to doom them all!" The AI practically snarled that last sentence, reminding everyone starkly that here was an AI around three times the Rampant age threshold.

Cutter wordlessly pulled the chip from his comm. link, and walked into the nearest Longsword. Hitting the nearby switch, he sealed the door. "If you end up staying, Serina, I'll stay with you. I'm too old anyway."

The fighter powered up, turned on roaring thrusters that almost drowned out the intensifying firefight, and blazed enormous 12cm shells into the main door at point blank range.

It was built to contain explosions, but never to endure that kind of continuous punishment. Within ten seconds the door buckled and tore off one hinge.

Natasha's Pelican jinked out of the way of the stream of rounds as it cut off. "That's quite some entrance. Firedrake, switch to the .50 and keep fire on the airlock – I'll load the first half of the escape group."

The second Pelican drifted into direct line with the door and unleashed the husbanded chaingun shells, physically tearing apart the Flood as they tried to enter.

The fighter's reactors cut out as the small bunker mass remaining exhausted itself, and the Longsword dropped two metres to hit the deck with a jarring clang. Cutter was knocked off his feet and hit the console, dazing him.

"Looks like this is the end, Captain." Serina said, as Spirit of Fire's remaining crew crowded into the dropships. "It's been an honour."

"The honour's all mine, Serina."

The fighter's ramp exploded. Two green blurs ran into the cockpit at high speed, picked up both Cutter and the AI chip from the console, and ran back out as fast as their augmented legs could carry them.

"Spartan? What are you-?" Cutter asked, shaking his head to try to clear it.

"We don't leave anyone behind." The Master Chief said firmly.

"He's always been like this!" Kelly shouted to him over the chaingun roar. "Ever since basic!"

The Pelicans were already turning, their passengers firing from the cargo bay to keep the Flood suppressed, as two Spartans leapt up into the hovering dropships and two more caught each one.

"You never change, do you John?" Alice asked over the private Spartan channel, shaking her head.

The doors closed, sealing the Pelicans.

"Brace yourselves, this is going to be bumpy!" Lt. Natasha, callsign Saker, advised her passengers.

And shot the shield door generator.

Both ships gunned their impulse drives past maximum safe settings and rocketed out into space with the atmosphere, hundreds of decompressing Flood following them and being burned out of the continuum by Sagittarius' pulse laser batteries.

After a few crowded seconds, Captain Cutter extracted himself from the crush of celebrating troops and naval personnel in the hold and made his way up to the cockpit.

For a moment, he just stared at the human- no, Alliance battlecruiser floating pristine in space, shields shimmering slightly where debris hit them.

"It's... astonishing. I don't think I'd really believed what the Spartans said until now… the war's over." He tried the sentence out in his mouth.

Natasha looked the legendary old officer over. "Well, not quite over, sir. But the Covenant's broken and we're more-or-less out of the hardest part."

She checked her eyepiece. "Sir, you might want to look out the starboard window."

Cutter complied, and beheld Spirit of Fire hanging in space. Great wounds studded her surface, and two openings on the port side streamed air.

But Spirit had been his command for so long, he saw the beauty in her still.

The window went dark as Natasha polarized it, then flashed with obscured brilliance as Sagittarius put two energy lances and a super-MAC round through the active reactor complex.

Cutter bowed his head. "Thank you, for giving me one last look at her. I know she had to go, but…" He blinked, and shook his head. "Better this way."

"Sesa?"

The Ultra turned, seeing the Master Chief walking over to him.

"What is it?"

"I just wanted to say… thanks." Chief held up the energy sword Sesa had bestowed upon him. "This saved my life in there."

"No thanks are needed. You have brought it great honour by using it to shield others from the Parasite."

"All this is very discouraging." Cutter said, looking around Sagittarius' bridge. "It's neat, efficient, much higher tech than I'm used to, and it means I'm not going to be much use anymore."

"I'm sure nobody could ask more than you've already given." Maclean assured him. "Besides, the UNSC's going to have a chance to shift back to a peace footing soon – or at least less of a war one." The younger captain gave his senior a sly look. "Tell you what, tomorrow I'll take you to a good restaurant and we'll exchange war stories. I bet you've got some good ones, and it'll give you a chance to get practiced for the press conferences which are going to be inevitable. In fact, you could invite your wife along."

"Sorry?" Cutter asked, confused. "I thought you were taking me out tomorrow. My wife's not on board, is she?"

Maclean shared the confusion for a moment, before he got it. "Oh, I see. No, we'll be back on Earth tomorrow afternoon. We got the Slipspace drives from the Covenant, as well. Chiron?"

"Tomorrow afternoon is a vile condemnation of my navigational talents. We should be there in about five hours – Covenant-style slipstream space drives are capable of a travel rate around three hundred and thirty thousand times the speed of light."

Cutter stood, shocked. More than anything else, that casual reference to an insane travel speed underscored how much things had changed while he was gone.

"Really?" Alice asked.

"Yeah. Everyone has shields now – you might have seen shield scatter from Blizzard team's marines? Anyway, the Sanghelli brought the technology, and we humans tweaked it, and there we were. Shields as common as Kevlar inserts used to be. Ours are much denser now, too – same kind of thing as a Zealot." Kelly explained to the two returned Spartans. "And we've got internal medical gel, as well, which solves one of the major problems of Mjolnir-V armour."

Linda and Kurt hefted a crate over to the trio, and opened the top. "Here. This is a basic training load of all the weapons that got developed since 2531. You've got a lot of catching up to do. Now, this is the current model of battle rifle – note the plasma overcharger…"

"What's wrong, John?" Cortana asked privately. The Chief was staring at his new plasma sword, sitting in his quarters with his helmet off.

"I suppose it's… Jerome. I though I was over them – their deaths, I mean. I'd accepted them as normal, mourned them, and kept going – because you have to keep going in war. But then there was this, and I found out two of them lived."

"And you feel angry at them that Jerome died and they didn't." Cortana said. "And then you feel guilty at being angry."

"Yeah."

"That's the wrong way to look at it, though." The AI advised. "I'm a copy of Dr. Elizabeth Halsey, remember, and she cares for all of you – like I do, for all of you. And I can tell you that rather than Jerome dying, you need to think of it like this. Alice and Douglas came back from the dead. They really were 'just MIA'. Hardly anyone has that happen to them." Cortana clapped her hands, which didn't produce noise directly but she played the appropriate sound for it. "Now, come on. The others are showing off all the new toys they got over the last couple of decades. You're going to want to be there when Kelly starts insulting your assault rifle like always."

"Okay, fine." John stood up, replaced his helmet, and walked out of his quarters to the firing range.

He had a couple of childhood friends to catch up with.

AN: Well, that was interesting. Almost half this chapter got written in one go - suppose I must have hit inspiration.

As you can see, the Alliance is almost completely racially integrated by now.

I don't think there's ever been officially stated what Shortsword bombers hold, so I just went for larger (or smaller) versions of modern heavy bombs.