Aim High, Dig Deep

by Electromotive Force

Chief Warrant Officer Rion Fontaine, technical expert, is ordered to Earth. Specialists such as the Chief are often dispatched in times of crisis, which has others asking rational, tough questions upon his arrival. Tending to duties at the outpost near Voi, spurious signals are detected. Upon investigation, he finds something hidden beneath the African sands...something legendary.

10. Seeing is Believing

Look for the signs, keepers of the flame. They will lead you to war, and perhaps, to victory.

0930 Hours UTC, 7 November 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Sol System, Earth, UNSC Science Outpost 01A-77
14th Floor, 7th Army Main Command Post

Seeing is Believing

Nearly three weeks of steady-state battle. That's what the calendar indicated. Fontaine lowered his multi-function display timepiece and looked around. So much had taken place here. In this moment of reflection, it seemed to the Chief Warrant Officer that a full-scale rotational deployment on some far-away world had come and gone as if he were reliving one of his old enlisted days.

He'd witnessed the weather patterns change from Summer to Fall under this African sun. Inside the shade of the 14th floor, Rion reached into a cargo pocket and retrieved the flex-display, unrolling it quickly for a peek into the spyglass one story above. From a set of virtual eyes with a rooftop vantage, he peered at the city with moderate zoom. A cursory glance was all he needed. The smoke and haze had settled enough to where he could see windows and doors and street signs again. The thoroughfares of both cities were less chaotic. Less movement could be tracked. The remnants of battle had been displaced in the recent days.

Rion scaled back to 1x magnification and the field of view expanded to its maximum width, then he panned from side to side for a full sweep. Not one Covenant Cruiser was even remotely close enough to the Parking Garage to notice the presence of a massive unit occupying it. All of the unit's prior engagements occurred at or around the FOB—near the gateway between both cities. The Covenant were either too busy to notice or didn't care about the airborne ant trail that the resupply runs must've looked like from a distant observer.

It seemed things would quiet down for Mombasa and hopefully stay that way.

While every person in the 906th was actively tasked again and again on a daily basis, Chief Fontaine's only charge was still one that merely required the equivalent of treading water. The LASER uplink was performing flawlessly and required zero maintenance. His own daily routines had become predictable, almost cathartic in comparison to the functions of those around him. In the recent days since hostilities began, Rion offered his help to the men and women of the 906th out of compassion. He'd loaned his skills to basic mechanical or electronic labor for the unit wherever he could, occasionally made a name for himself here or there outside of the Morale Call Guy or Roughneck Techie monikers.

Warthog radio boxes, earpiece transceivers, tool calibration—anything to take the load off his over-worked brethren, even if it was only a morsel of assistance compared to the mountain of duties each of them had been inundated with. The battle across the horizon and the stress it caused even for the people that were physically removed from it had pushed the CP into a realm of melancholy, the doldrums of detachment from what everyone here knew was a living hell out there. Eventually, Rion took it upon himself to find work wherever he could just to keep his wits in-check.

He'd visited the spectrum analyzer multiple times a week as well, remembering the fourth of November to be a particularly active day for the bizarre signals propagating about the desert floor. He reminisced on the tiny, little whispers of other days too, but the anomalies remained largely suppressed. Fontaine overlooked logging anything new in his Master Station Log, for the days' events since October 20th largely concerned combat—and he could easily reach into the Brigade's notes and copy all of the significant acts of every skirmish. They'd undoubtedly do a far better job of tallying up the Battle of Mombasa than he could.

Currently, Rion found himself walking to the busiest part of the 14th floor, such in the way he usually did when trying to discern the strategic implications of what was taking place outside of his own spheres. He moseyed toward the rows of stations operated by the Commander's Support Staff, trying not to draw attention to himself in the middle of their typical frenzy. Company-grade officers awaited the reports of various senior technicians as they consulted maps and unit rosters and communiqués of various priorities, trying to aggregate everything into a singular, cohesive stream of consciousness among everyone in the entire Brigade. Rion even saw two Army civilians advising some of the young ones in uniform, leaning over their stations to offer their knowledge. Apparently, they'd been flown in recently. Maybe Mattis deemed the working environment safe enough for these elderly folk—likely retirees—garbed in trousers and polo shirts and covered with non-standard patchworks of armor plating.

All staff undoubtedly had the Cell running like a well-oiled machine with their heavily-practiced procedures and the years of training they'd invested into themselves and their understanding of the unit—as well as its coveted 'playbook'. It was a tight-knit entity, much like an ethnic family unsullied by the outside forces of a modern society. Rion found Colonel Mattis by himself far away at one corner of the area, consulting a giant, wide-aspect holo-display the unit colloquially knew as The Palantir. Rion slowly gaited toward the man, the sounds of controlled chaos aft diminishing the closer he got to him.

The Colonel was deep in thought.

"Where does the Nine-Oh-Sixth get its geospatial intelligence from, sir?"

Colonel Mattis glanced at Fontaine, then went back to observing the IMINT display as he answered, "Cube-sats in orbit as well as ground-based sensors and human intel."

"Covenant hasn't tried to bring down your grid yet?"

"They're either oblivious to it or they care less. I don't think they'd ever have a shot at putting the blinders on us anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Cube-sats are about the size of a gravball."

"Pretty small."

"Virtually undetectable. Even if they devoted considerable assets to locating and destroying them, there's hundreds of 'em up there."

"I guess that doesn't pose a challenge for friendly vehicles."

"No, they're pretty lightweight and coated in elastomer. They'll just bounce right off anything that hits 'em and then reorient."

Fontaine then said what was truly on his mind for the last few hours, hoping to get the sage insight of the Commander while staring blankly into the hologram ahead. "These Covenant ships keep showing up."

By Mattis' side, the Chief observed the unit's air picture. He felt somewhat humbled in the Colonel's presence. Rion had frequently liaised with high-ranking officers during his tenure as one commissioned-by-warrant and they often sought his advisement on matters that fell under his purview, but at present no one required Fontaine's expertise in communication-electronics as it was already put into action some time ago. He was sure many here had already forgotten his name and face, but the soldier next to him was revered by many even outside of his own branch of service.

Beyond just the blurbs generated by the military media machine, Rion heard accounts from fellow warrant officers about the man's uncanny ability to predict points of contention on a map and position pieces against the enemy like it was a park-side chess game. He was always two steps ahead at a minimum, some would say. Even though unforeseen variables could and would be introduced during the course of battle, he had multiple premeditated end-games ready to be executed with only a quick shift of resources or kinetic applications serving as either power grabs or straight-up diversions. He was one of three strategic visionaries who had a hand in creating the 7th Army playbook, the other two authors unknown. Much of the Seventh's stratagems were automated at a macro-level, and they had plenty of time to prepare for this scenario and many others like it all due to Mattis's vision.

The display hovering over an empty parking space a few paces in front depicted a hemispherical volume of approximately two-million cubic kilometers centered on the Parking Garage. It had a 3-axis grid overlay, completely accounting for the entire observable region with accuracy down to an inch. Dozens of blips denoted the major enemy players suspended above the desert plains—all clustered in a single quadrant of the blued image. By Rion's rough estimation, he assumed a count of twenty-odd Battlecruisers and two of the venerable Assault Carriers. It was baffling to see them so deep inside atmosphere, if only to realize an instant later what those vessels were designed for and what they were capable of doing.

The Warrant Officer shook his head in amazement. "…More and more arrive by the day. Going on the better part of a month. You'd think Mombasa would've been obliterated a good while back."

The Colonel nodded in concurrence while only briefly glancing at the exhibit upon Fontaine's scrutiny, and then he looked away. Still, that tranquil stoicism was his most visible attribute as the leader glanced behind, slowly panning through the ambience of his hectic Support Cell across the concrete. He took in the bustle of the entire level with a steaming thermos of coffee in-hand, and it made Rion think about heading down to the second level so he could score some for himself. The fatigue of recent days was starting to take a toll on him as well. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for the personnel stationed at the FOB right now.

In the next moment, the Colonel's gaze took new focus on the hologram and he replied to Fontaine as if recalling short-term memory, the voice slightly hoarse. "Still trying to stitch all the individual pieces together. Along with the various intel from your folks, the fragments are starting to take shape. We'll know soon enough what exactly is going on."

"Since their arrival, they seem to be less interested in glassing us than they do that enormous piece way out there."

"Their initial assault was intended to cripple us and buy themselves some time. Fine by me. Gives us some breathing room."

"What's big-Navy doing about it?"

"Not sure. We have our orders, and I suppose they've got their own wounds to lick. I hear it didn't go well for them up there."

"And the Nine-Oh-Sixth's end-game?"

"Hard to say what the end-game will look like with this new development. This isn't the Covenant's typical style. Usually, it's annihilate and dig, or both simultaneously, not this hit-and-run-and-dig. I don't think anyone's seen this kind of behavior before. But for us, it remains this Brigade's duty to establish the regional defense and repulsion. Maintain the protective sphere we've got going and keep it expanding every chance we get."

"Sheltering civilians and WIAs in the meantime?"

"That's one major area of focus. What we're ultimately after is a massive regroup. In the meantime, we'll lead or promote uprisings, get people coordinated and synergistic, and eventually form enough combined strength for a counter-attack in concert with all other military branches. Navy isn't doing much yet, which tells you what kind of shape they're in. But it seems like Covy's got a trench to dig out there, and they're going to forfeit the advantage with their backs turned to us whether they know it or not."

"I just hope they don't find whatever it is they're looking for by the time we're ready. Must be an awfully important find for them not to finish the job they started in Mombasa."

"Well, they're gonna finish some kind of job. Just won't be in Mombasa. Nine-Oh-Sixth will help see to that."

"Someone somewhere has to know what this thing is."

"Nothing's been confirmed yet. Imagery provided isn't very conclusive, either. It looks like some kind of protective shell. I think there's something deeper underground that we can't see yet."

"Well, Covy's got that in the queue. Anyone consider a high-speed recon run directly over it?"

"With more Seraphs flying interdiction than a Rwandan mosquito swarm, we'd be sending pilots into certain death. And with the zero-percent success rate of recons so far, not even I can incentivize them to take on that kind of mission."

"What, our UAVs couldn't penetrate their air defenses, sir?"

"Nine-Oh-Sixth drones don't have the range or stealth to get that far. They're strictly for local situational awareness of our defenses and merely extend the range of the perimeter turrets. Their sensory gear isn't exactly ONI-grade material, either."

"Anyone tap the Air Force for a UCAV sortie?"

"Already attempted. They saw it coming well in advance. Shot them down before they could get within range."

"I get the feeling the UNSC is gonna be the last pony across the finish line with this excavation."

Mattis grunted.

"What about Shield Company? Sword Company?"

"They have their orders too."

"Has their situation improved?"

"No, but it hasn't worsened either. Fighting in Mombasa is at equilibrium. Steady waves of Brutes continually arrive, but they're only replacing what they lose…all to maintain that city-wide cordon they've got between Mombasa and this new dig site. Got the entire civilian transport infrastructure blockaded too. Not much else is known about their strategy other than protecting their new interest. They occasionally venture inward at random, if only to harass security forces and keep them on the defensive. But the Hospital is now under maximum fortification. We'll get more and more people to rally there. No Brute Army can take it, especially now that Shield has hunter-killer teams posted a dozen blocks out in every direction. Hairy bastards will be cut down well before they can even ring the doorbell."

"So they've got their so-called defensive sphere up. Lieutenant Reed was telling me about that plan earlier..." Rion's brutally-logical mind defaulted toward skepticism in light of all that was taking place and how Mombasa fared so far. "So, you say the hospital's pretty much impenetrable?" But then Rion also made sure to maintain tact when in the presence of a seasoned Colonel. "Whole thing sounds promising when I hear you talk about it, sir."

"Put simply, Chief, nothing's taking down the FOB unless one of those Capital Ships randomly breaks formation and takes a swipe at it, which is highly unlikely. Our people are pretty well concealed in that building, and the resupply routes to and from the FOB are quite removed from all the major—"

Mattis and Fontaine glanced rearward as a lone Warthog ascended the ramp in the middle of the structure, scooting into an empty parking spot a dozen meters away. Dismounting was the Major, now marching toward the two.

"…So, as you might guess," Mattis finished, "our movements are still unmolested. Major, did you just arrive from the FOB?"

"Roger, sir."

Colonel Mattis then squared his stance to the Executive Officer and leveled his gaze, suggesting that only a direct response was necessary. "What's your take on their reported status?"

Wu hesitated for one second. "…Green."

He didn't elaborate further.

And Mattis understood. The battle was beginning to toll on everyone, though no one would admit it for Earth's sake.

"Chief," Wu pivoted to face the Warrant Officer, offering a nod, "any luck with your backup antennas yet?"

"No kind of luck, sir. Still only a single antenna active."

Wu loosened the tension on his helmet and shook his head.

"What's this now?" Mattis asked.

"Sir, if something isn't done about Chief's situation, I'd say it's a certainty we'll be cut off from the FOB if we take fire. Chief, step up and brief the Colonel." Wu tipped his helmet in Mattis' direction.

"Well," Fontaine began, "the take away is that two-thirds of communications assets on the rooftop are dead in the water as we speak."

"What's happened to them?"

"There's intense interference in the area that they can't overcome."

"Source?"

"Coming from the underground facilities, sir. The Doctor heading the place offered no help and was very dismissive to both me and the Major. Come to find out the place is being run by a one-star, sir, and he's just as combative. We have one means of communicating outside of this structure with the kind of capability we have now and that's the LASER. We lose it…and we're headed back into the austerity of your unit's radio nets unless we do as the Major suggests."

"This has huge potential either way, sir." Wu added. "It's worth every bit of hassle."

Rion continued, "While we won't be totally incommunicado, we will be greatly hampered and operations and intel-gathering will slow down as a result. Greatly."

This perked Mattis' interest, his brow raised.

Fontaine gestured at the ground as if cutting through all the levels by hand and pointing into the sub-complexes. "Just my assessment here, sir, but we can't afford something like that."

"What's the suggestion?" Mattis stood taller.

Rion again resumed, "It's obvious to me and Major Wu that we won't be going back down there unless we do it by force and thus consequence."

The Colonel nodded, saying, "Might doesn't always make right, especially with a brigadier general in the driver seat."

"I think the only safe alternative is if we have a higher-ranking general backing us up, which I don't see happening any time soon. Or…wait until some Captain shows up."

"This General knows who we are and our purpose and he still stonewalled you?"

"Let's just say we weren't given any red carpet treatment whatsoever. Came off as understanding and even offered help, but not in any kind of reasonable timeframe. In effect, yes, he stonewalled the hell out of us."

Mattis cocked his head to one side and made a face. "So…who is this Captain?"

The conversation was cut short when one of the enlisted technicians approached Mattis directly. Under protocol, the Colonel would tend to a prioritized holo-queue prepared carefully by one of his executive aides rather than deal directly with the enlisted—but the matter was apparently of utmost urgency.

"Sir, there's a Smoking Gun on the horn asking for you, highest priority. I cross-referenced it to UNSC's B-Net. The hailing station is Cairo, the lead Orbital Defense Gun. Sir, it's Admiral Hood."

"…The Admiral of the Fleets."

"Affirmative, sir, and he's call-signing our station Iris. Sir, I've never heard of Iris."

"Patch the Admiral through to this station." Mattis ordered while activating the loudspeaker adjacent to the holo-display.

"This is Highwayman, Commander of the Seventh Army at Mombasa. Go, Smoking Gun."

"There's a small squadron of Covenant dropships vectored to your HQ."

"Roger, engaging." Mattis snapped a finger at Wu and pointed toward the Joint-Force Collaboration Station across the floor.

"Negative, Iris. Stand down."

Mattis waved off his Executive Officer before Wu could set out, his hand hovering in the air. "What, do you want the honors?"

"Negative. Friendlies inbound. Do not…repeat…do not engage."

Mattis lowered his hand and frowned. "Come again, Cairo?"

"Elites and Hunters have defected. They are on our side."

"I'm seeing Capital Ships glassing as we speak. Confirm this with authentication codes."

"…My authentication code is being transmitted to your station now."

Mattis glanced across the grid of benches and chairs and to a technician listening in on the conversation. He threw a thumbs-up at the Colonel from across the Cell.

"I confirm your authenticity, Smoking Gun." The Colonel furrowed his brow and inhaled deeply. "…And any background info is greatly appreciated."

"Those capital ships in your area are commanded by Brutes. Naval forces are re-assembling for a counter-attack. Make sure those inbounds arrive safely and provide escort if necessary."

"We will hold our fire on the inbounds, but you'd better be spot-on about this intel, Cairo. I don't wish to re-enact the fall of Troy. Iris, out."

Wu looked up with a wary stare at his commander. "Orders, Colonel?"

Mattis scratched at his forehead, turning to his X.O. "Consult Operation Valkyrie Phase Four." The Colonel then looked around while trying to suppress the befuddlement mounting his features. "The War's just entered a new era, Major Wu. VIPs inbound."

1030 Hours UTC
14th Floor

A chime caught Fontaine's attention, an audible tone he wasn't familiar with.

He looked around for the source and soon observed those personnel that weren't sitting at their support stations were reaching for their flex displays. Rion did the same, fishing his hand into one of the cargo pockets. He unraveled it, discovering a rhythmic light-pulse that was in-synch with the sound. An urgent message identifier occupied nearly the entire display in bold red. He queued it open and it read:

FROM: COL. MATTIS, JAMES - COMMANDER, 7th ARMY/906 BDE
TO: 906 BDE/ALL PERSONNEL
PRIORITY: ALPHA
SUBJECT: ENACT PHASE FOUR OF OPERATION VALKYRIE

Team,

Objectives Nine through Twelve of Phase Four, Operation Valkyrie, are to be established effective immediately. Elites and Hunters have allied with UNSC forces. Non-hostile dropships designated with green-colored hulls are en route to the Main Command Post and their occupants will hold position at the fourth level for an unspecified amount of time. That entire sector is now under armed guard and cordoned off to all personnel. Do not under any circumstance interact with ex-Covenant individuals outside the presence of a 906 unit commander. Company and Battalion Senior Officers will hold responsibility for segregation between UNSC and ex-Covenant forces. In the event UNSC personnel on-site attain proximity to ex-Covenant personnel within twenty-five meters, they are required to immediately relocate beyond that minimum-mandated distance and report the incident through their chain of command. Commanders at all levels will ensure redress to any inadvertent interaction should such proximity be violated. Thank you for your cooperation.

James Mattis, COLONEL, Commanding
7th ARMY/906 BDE
"Seventh Army. First in, last out."

Fontaine looked around as everyone present in the Support Cell hung silent for a moment, glancing at one another. Their functions momentarily faltered in that quiet, surreal moment. Then, at the behest of more disciplined officers, everyone got back to work and the din picked up again. Rion stowed the flex display, rubbing at his chin.

Elites and Hunters were arguably the two most feared species in the entire Covenant. They'd terrorized the UNSC and humanity for decades, often leading the charge. Next to Brutes, they were the most tenacious and powerful. This revelation passed down from Lord Hood himself was a true bombshell—a good one. Rion instantly mulled through the strategic implications of this defection. Of all the battles the Chief had endured in his past, the one thing he always remembered was Elites. Going up against them was usually ineffectual and disastrous, even if endowed with mildly-superior numbers. UNSC engagements and sometimes entire groundside strategies were tailored based on what numbers of Elites there were on the battlefield. Even more, Elites were the most versatile warriors in the entire galaxy, fulfilling all variety of combat roles: infantry officers, covert spec-ops commandos, ship masters, even counter-intelligence and psy-ops. Their rank structure was vast and specialized, and the skills of the warrior caste only incremented upward as they ascended their ranks unlike some individuals in the UNSC who could easily find themselves floundering without the support and guidance of their leaders. Hunters, while by no means directive toward their comrades like Elites were, always proved to be devastating heavy-hitters and often worked outside of their hierarchies—free to pursue their own course of action in parallel to their unit—which made them unpredictable on top of their immense armaments and strength of body.

Fontaine looked for Major Wu, his best source of information following Lieutenant Reed's departure for the FOB. He wondered how the LT was holding up out there, then quickly assumed the rough-and-tumble Reed was likely holding his own just fine. Mattis had mentioned the FOB was in good shape despite the rest of Mombasa.

After a brief scan of the Cell, Rion could see the lead X.O. issuing instruction to a technician at one of the stations. Rion gaited there and waited for the Major to finish.

Wu glanced back once he was done.

"Hey, Major." Rion glanced around at the various stations. "Looks like our guests get their very own waiting room."

"Strange days, eh?"

"Never thought I'd see a day like this."

"I'm a little suspicious, though." Wu shook his head. "Why would two of the strongest players in the Covenant just up and leave it?"

"Haven't the faintest idea, sir, but I don't think anyone else does either. So, what's this Phase Four?"

Wu nodded and thought for a moment, recalling his knowledge of the 7th Army's guidance publications.

"On a whole, Phase Four includes the scenarios where Earth forces are able to defeat or stalemate the Covenant. Every possibility they could think of at the time. Armistice, diplomatic exchanges, peace treaties. But—"

"—No one ever anticipated a defection."

"…Right. So, what Mattis is doing is picking out specific subsections of Phase Four so we can meet whatever objectives HighComm is after with this new alliance…and the rest will have to be improvised."

"Sounds like more fun than I can handle." Rion chuckled, "Glad I'm not part of the Seventh."

"Shit, count your blessings. Command is asking a lot from us."

Rion looked around. He could see the apprehension on the troops' faces, their brief glimpses at one another in between keystrokes and transmissions. Years of training and instruction and gut instinct had to be overridden in an instant. It was obvious. Whereas they'd normally eradicate any incoming vessel without a UNSC IFF transponder, this rare exception had them turning back on all those years and making whatever preparations were necessary in order to shepherd these new inbounds into the safety of the structure.

Wu added, "Probably why Mattis is giving them a level all to themselves. Bad blood, you know?"

"Indeed." At that, Rion couldn't help but start to rub at his chin again. "…But why on Earth are they coming here?"

1045 Hours UTC
14th Floor

Major Wu pressed on an earpiece and turned to Fontaine. "Excuse me one minute, Chief."

The nearest elevator chimed and opened. General LeMay exited the box car along with three other uniformed personnel.

As if the General's presence here was pre-announced, Colonel Mattis then strode forth along with Major Wu, the duo meeting the entourage halfway. Near the central ramp, they assembled. The entire floor of technicians further aft took notice of a flag officer in the area but didn't bother offering formal acknowledgement, engrossed in their tasks. Rion watched from a short distance, just barely able to hear their brief conversation taking place over the combined drone of the Support Cell.

Colonel Mattis offered customary respects to the General, assuming the position of attention. "Sir."

"At ease, Colonel Mattis. I know you're an extremely busy man these days so I'll skip the dialogue for both our sakes. Where are the arrivals?"

"Fourth Floor." Mattis said, relaxing his stance.

"Thank you, Colonel." LeMay craned his neck and made fleeting eye contact with Fontaine. "Has your situation with communications improved?"

Mattis glanced back to the Chief, waiting there alone and in silence. "We'll let you know."

LeMay nodded and panned around with only his eyes, then settled his gaze on Major Wu. "I meant what I said earlier. As soon as my Captain arrives, you are free to join him as he makes his way below. In fact, I'll leave the doors swinging wide for you."

"Great. What's his name?"

"Actually can't reveal that just yet. But, really, you can't miss him. He's Navy. He'll be the only one in this entire place wearing whites."

Wu raised his chin at the General, locking eyes, then glanced thoughtfully at his Colonel, nodding in understanding.

The General said, "Anything for me before I escort the Elites below ground?"

"Whatever intel you have on this large hole in the ground would be appreciated." Wu said.

"I can't go into specifics, but I can tell you this: it is a Forerunner structure, something that belongs to an ancient civilization that pre-dates both ours and the Covenant's. It is linked to our very own studies further below. We don't yet know its function or why the Covenant takes interest in it, but if they're interested…so are we."

"Is that what is causing all the interference?"

"Unknown."

"Keep us in the loop on this thing, General."

"You'll do better to be on the lookout for the Captain's arrival. He's your only ticket aboard this crazy ride."

"We hope to be in touch with you again, General." Mattis said, again coming to attention.

"You will be, soon I hope." LeMay turned for the elevator. "Carry on."

As LeMay and his group retreated back to the Sub-complexes, Mattis and his returned to the periphery of the Support Cell where Fontaine waited. "And how long did the General say before this Captain shows up?"

"Any day now." Wu said, glancing at the Chief.

Mattis nodded at the X.O. "I'll leave you to it, then. You seem to have that situation under your wing."

"Roger, sir."

Mattis retreated toward the giant holo-display, conversing with some of his junior officers maintaining an orderly Support Cell while Fontaine and Wu loitered adjacently.

"So," Rion said, grinning, "anything else new?"

"Not much since I left the FOB. Same old shit. Well, other than an ancient alien race that's of extreme interest to our enemy. Aren't you ONI, Chief?"

"ONI keeps tight compartmentalization. Really, in the grand scheme," Fontaine shrugged, "I'm not much to look at."

Wu nodded and stared off into space. "And this ancient alien race buried something on Earth, right here in my own backyard."

Fontaine retrieved the flex-display again as he spoke. "So, Capital Ships glassing at bare dirt for an ancient excavation, hordes of Brutes holding us back from an advance, a Covenant civil war, a mysterious General Officer escorting Elites into his bunker, and a BOLO for an all-important Captain headed this way. Yeah, sounds like the average day."

Wu offered a rare smile. "You've been doing a hell of a job, Chief. We're lucky to have you here. Even though you're a Marine."

Fontaine returned the grin while peering into the spyglass once again for a brief look outward. He glanced to a corner of the display and noted a couple dozen other users passively monitoring as well. Covenant Capital Ships continued to slip through the roof and glass everything out in the open desert, slowly and steadily revealing more of whatever this giant, sunken structure was. Whatever it was, it was massive, taking up an entire swath at current magnification.

Just then, a loudspeaker squawked originating from one of the stations in the Support Cell:

"Attention, all personnel, additional friendlies inbound."

A moan from the Major. "BOHICA, more defectors." He glanced at the Colonel. "Elites in my house make me nervous, sir. How many more are we forced to grant asylum to?"

"No, these are Pelicans." Mattis said, glancing at his holo-display. "Quite a few of them. Coming in hot."

"Not ours." Wu said as he took observation of his own flex-display. "Angle of descent is...looking like a re-entry vector. IFF shows they're assigned to a frigate. UNSC Thermisticles. Only designation is special operations. Doesn't detail much else."

"Must be from out of town." Fontaine remarked.

"Iris station, Iris station," the hailing party announced on the open-channel, "this is the Captain of the UNSC Thermisticles. I am en route to your location. ETA is imminent."

"Arrival confirmed." Mattis replied, turning to his X.O. "Major Wu, I'm thinking this is that same Captain the General's been alluding to. And I think I might know this guy. Head the welcoming party and escort him directly to me."

"Yes, sir."

Ten minutes later…

A pair of M831 Troop Transport Hogs crested the ramp leading up to the 14th floor, scurrying for parking spaces once clearing the threshold. Past the glare of the headlamps, Rion could see the Major in the driver's seat of one vehicle and a 906th Captain whom he hadn't met driving the other. The occupants in the rear seats could not be seen until the ATVs parked and everyone dismounted. There, walking toward the Support Cell was Major Wu and his subordinate, followed by a Naval Captain predictably in full white service dress, some Marines...and a Spartan-II supersoldier.

The Support Cell again momentarily faltered in their activities upon the sight of the incoming entourage, evident by an audible hiccup in their usual clamor. They went back to work upon Major Wu glancing over his shoulder.

The Major brought them toward Colonel Mattis and Fontaine—holding position near the giant holo-display.

"Gentlemen," Wu gestured outward, "this is Captain Lawson."

Garbed in full Naval Service Dress, Captain Lawson stood out like a signal flare in the dim ambience of the Support Cell. His band of bodyguards flanked him closely, especially the Marine Lieutenant and his Sergeants.

"Welcome to our HQ, Captain. I remember you. Yes, the same Captain who showed up to a burning Côte d'Azur talking about turning the tide."

"Colonel Mattis. Good to see you again."

"Good memory you have. I never got to congratulate you following your deployment to Sigma Octanus II."

Lawson marched forth, shaking the Colonel's hand with a firm grasp. "We had a very tight timetable and had to be on our way to Reach, but I'll offer that your generosity back then was reward enough."

"It was very unfortunate to hear of Reach. We had a hard time accepting it at first."

"Well, believe it. We saw it first hand. It's the only reason Earth is under attack, and you know time is short. I was told I'd be expected by General LeMay. Will you be taking me to him?"

The Naval Captain hurriedly surveyed his surroundings and assumed right away that this wasn't his place to be, also evident by the apprehension of his escorts, one of which was a Spartan-II supersoldier. Mattis glanced over to Wu and Fontaine with only his eyes. "Well, I won't be the one chaperoning your visit, Captain, but Major Wu here already has a rapport with the General, so he can be your guide and ensure your speediest path to the man. I just wanted to make my presence known and see you down safely."

Wu proceeded to the parked Warthogs while the senior officers finished introductions.

"Excuse me," Fontaine said to the Spartan-II, "were you the one that was driving that tank up the Mombasa Bridge?"

She glanced at the Chief Warrant Officer and answered, "We only just arrived from Reach."

Fontaine nodded.

"Who was it you saw?"

"I don't know, but honestly I wish I did. I'd recommend them for a Navy Cross on my own account after what I saw them do. That Spartan was all alone," Fontaine became more animated as he continued his recollection, "and it destroyed everything. Ghosts, Wraiths, Banshees, and I do believe it also took out a Scarab all by itself."

"Did you see any numbers on the breastplate? There would've been three."

Rion furrowed his brow and nodded. "I did but I don't recall off the top of my head. I'm sure I could query the footage and find out."

She now had her stance squared solely at Fontaine when she said, "Please try to find out, Chief. For me."

"For sure I will."

"Alright," Mattis said, "you'd all better get going. The General is waiting. Fontaine…" Mattis reeled the Warrant Officer in with a discrete gesture as the whole crowd dispersed.

"Sir." Fontaine stepped toward the Army Colonel.

Mattis spoke lower. "I know this isn't your typical M.O., but do me a neighborly favor…"

"Anything, sir."

"You and Wu be my set of eyes and ears down there. Let me know what is going on."

Fontaine grinned. "Already had that in mind, Colonel."

1120 Hours UTC
Eastern Boundary Access Point, Omega Complex

Spectrum analyzer in-hand, Rion followed the group past the threshold previously denied to them.

Footsteps—except for those of the hulking supersoldier in their midst—were muffled against the carpeted floor, though they could be the only sounds heard at present. The way was silent as all times before. Eerily silent and barren. Passing beyond the newly-repaired threshold, Rion activated the device once again, instantly acknowledging the strange signals—though greatly attenuated from their recent high a few days ago on the fourth of November. He periodically glanced at the display as he walked in-step with everyone else.

The hall was of the same décor as all others—plain, stately, appearing official and rather minimalist in that way. There were no signs directing residents toward recreational facilities or dining halls or call centers. This was all business. Thin, grey-blue carpeting, white walls, low-vaulted ceiling, many doors along both sides. A Carbon-copy of everything before it—nearly.

The only armed personnel among them were the Major and the Chief, their pistols holstered.

"The General kept his word." Wu stated flatly as he crossed through.

"Swingin' wide." Rion answered.

Co-leading alongside the Major was this Captain—their figurative ticket into whatever was taking place deeper inside the facility. Rion couldn't help but let his normally cold and calculative mind spiral into the many possibilities he'd been mulling over these past months—some of them far-fetched even by Rion's imaginative limits and some of them too practical given the new developments. With all Covenant Capital Ships exhuming an ancient alien structure not too far from this location, Rion was now willing to entertain any idea.

The fact that a lone General was really the man behind the curtain pulling the strings made him begin to realize that this wasn't just a research outpost; it was a full-blown military function operating under the guise of science. To be fair, the two often went hand-in-hand at the highest levels, but with all this new information Rion could then whittle down the long list of growing possibilities into a smaller range of them that would make the bigger picture a little less daunting to grasp.

Before he forgot, he started a recording of the device's logging buffers and looked onward. This 'Omega' hall stretched just as long as the other sub-complexes did—at two-hundred meters by Rion's estimation. He glanced at each door's window pane upon their passing: only more halls beyond were revealed.

"This is a maze." Rion blurted. "They could be down any one of these corridors, Major. How can you be sure you know where to go?"

"Easy," Wu shrugged, glancing back at Fontaine, "just head to the same place we did last time when we got turned around."

"Where you met the General?"

"Indeed."

"Wait," Captain Lawson stopped walking, "neither of you are part of SWORD Command?"

Wu halted in mid-stride as did all others. "Never heard of it. Sword...what is Sword?"

Lawson gave the Major a wary stare, then glanced to Chief Fontaine, panning back and forth, his squinted eyes signaling doubt of their legitimacy here. "Has General LeMay cleared you for access to this facility?"

"Yes," Wu replied, "of course."

The Naval Captain gave the Major's answer some thought, staring at the 7th Army officer for a moment.

Without word or expression, Lawson resumed the walk. Wu and the others did as well.

The Major quickened his pace and took the lead, marching the entire group straight onward. They passed by each tributary on either side until reaching the very end of the hall. Two choices beckoned here: left or right. Wu guided right, and down a corridor stemming perpendicular to the main lane. This new hall was long, narrow, and dim with no doors on either side—just a transitional hallway. The junction fifty meters ahead was brightly-lit, though, with some people standing there. Rion could see them in the distance beyond the shoulders of those walking in front of him, and the closer he got he could make out the same urban camouflage pattern that their General wore. Sentries—Rion could now discern—all three of them hefting MA5-series assault rifles inside of a tall, cylindrical chamber.

The light of the ambience intensified as they transitioned into the high-vaulted junction. One of the troops stepped forth to challenge the approaching group.

"Are you Captain Lawson?"

"Yes," the man in whites answered, "where is General LeMay?"

"He's further below at the Terminals. We'll need you to wait here until we can verify your ID. Neural lace scans are the fastest method. Or, if you prefer, some tangible credent—"

"—No need for that." LeMay's voice sounded off from loudspeakers mounted high in the chamber. "I confirm visual identity. Cycle them through."

"Everyone, sir?"

"Yes. They're all cleared for access. Get them inside The Septagon."

Immediately, the other two sentries stepped to either side of an Aluminum door with giant embossed characters that spelled IRIS. They produced a series of commands into flanking cipher locks and the door split apart to reveal another elevator. The lead sentry gestured them ahead. "Step inside. Only way to get there is straight down."

Lawson took the lead inward, the others following without hesitation. With no controls inside the box car, everyone waited for movement once the doors sealed shut. The chassis shook gently and started its descent.

"Captain," Wu said, pivoting toward Lawson, "how do you know of the General?"

"He's my boss."

"I don't get it. An Army general commands a Naval captain?"

"Not in a traditional sense. The two of us are part of a very small ONI task force that has its own reporting chain. A joint-force collaboration spanning all branches of the UNSC, chaired by ONI controllers. We answer only to them."

"What is it you do for our great war machine besides flying the…"

"The Thermisticles. I guess you could say we test and evaluate exotic things for use in practical military operations. LeMay controls the mission's research aspects. For my part in this project, I answer to LeMay and carry out the actual research and the engineering if and when it gets to that point. When I'm commanding my ship, I fall back under NAVCOM."

"A man of many hats, I see."

Lawson nodded. "And how is it you all get a front-row seat to this show?"

Wu nodded a queue at the Chief.

"Well," Fontaine began, "Not really sure how to put it without burdening you with details, but there's a lot of radio interference coming from this structure down here and it's been playing hell with our comms upstairs where you met the Colonel."

"We're the Nine-Oh-Sixth Brigade." Wu added. "Seventh Army. We're the ones trying to keep the Covenant from wiping out Mombasa and its population."

"So," Rion resumed, "I'm going to see if there's a way I can study what's causing it all, and honestly, Captain, I'm a little bit curious to see what else is really going on down here."

Lawson grinned. "You're going to get more than you bargained for, Marine."

Two minutes later…

The doors parted and cool, dry air whisked into the car.

Before stepping out, all occupants stared outward. The path before them was straight until it met a wide, circular junction where it scattered in different directions. There, the labyrinthine underground seemed unfathomably ancient—the sight, the smell, the absence of sound. Overtly noticeable was the surrounding walls of this new environment, blued and narrow. Particularly, it was the designs hewn into the bulwark itself—flowing like an unbroken story millennia old—a geometric, mechanistic aesthetic seamlessly melded into an organic matrix. Glyphs—purposeful and beckoning—were scattered in the periphery. Angular pitch lines spawned an intricate frieze with depths of many layers that ran down the entire length of twenty or thirty meters, leading into that circular chamber. Holding there was General LeMay—surrounded by Elites.

The Marines and the Spartan flanking Captain Lawson immediately acted and stepped forth to shield their commander, and Rion could see a young Lieutenant in their midst unlimber a solid-black sphere from a canvass bag he'd been carrying. Wu and Fontaine took notice of the sudden movements occurring and glanced upon the newcomers, slow to recognize the mounting confusion and fear. Instantly, LeMay spun around, alerted to their presence.

"Wait!"

The General left his alien visitors and jogged down the entryway, extending a hand upon his nearing. "It's fine. Don't panic. Good to finally see you again, Eric."

The Captain relaxed his stance and all his bodyguards stepped aside, craning their necks beyond to get a good look at the Elites holding position ahead.

"Good to see you too, sir…What's with the Elites?"

"A lot of things changed since you set out on your journey. Elites and Hunters have allied with the UNSC."

Lawson's eyes went wide for a fraction of a second, then he began to observe them much in the way the Spartan probably was. He then shook the General's hand.

"When did this happen?"

"Literally a few hours ago. News came directly from HighComm. It's legit."

Lawson stole a deep breath with the sort of explosive intake of blind faith that a front-line soldier would steal just before charging enemy territory. "A decision they made for the best…I'm sure."

"C'mon, everyone." LeMay said, gesturing onward. "Let's get you all briefed on what's going on beneath the surface."

1155 Hours UTC
IRIS — Grand Junction of the Forerunner Antechamber

There was some palpable apprehension coming from Lawson and his people upon venturing into the large chamber, especially from the Spartan under his command. They kept a watchful, wary distance to the Elites—who didn't seem to mind their trepidation. All three ex-Covenant warriors were more concerned about their surroundings, silently observing the entirety of the structure with wide eyes and slow, rolling glances at every ancient facet.

"So," Rion said brazenly, "What the hell does IRIS stand for?"

"Integrated Receive-only Information Servers. We'll get into it shortly. Allow me to introduce myself to all the new folks, first. Brigadier General Curtis LeMay. I run this facility as well as SWORD Command. And Eric," he prompted the Naval Captain, "you've also made some significant discoveries." The General then gaited slowly toward one of Lawson's Lieutenants. "Is this it?"

"Yes, sir." Lawson replied. "Lieutenant Pennington, show the General."

The Junior Officer did as instructed and retrieved that same, strange, black ball he did earlier. Rion assumed it was some kind of advanced weaponry as he recalled the Lieutenant preparing to use it in some fashion before being assured the Elites were of no quarrel here. Unmasked and out of the canvass bag, he held it aloft for the General to obtain. It was a pure-black. Rion had never seen anything so black. Deep space wasn't even as black. He continued to stare at it as did all others.

LeMay nodded and quickly relinquished his hold of it, handing it back to the young LT. "Well done, Eric. Very well done. A big win for us all. Hopefully it can be one of many to come."

"So, IRIS." Fontaine said.

LeMay cleared his throat. "Yes…Forerunner kiosks."

"These ancient beings are the Forerunners." Wu stated for confirmation.

"Correct. Intel on it is quite brand-new. Most of it not even a couple months old. Lord Hood got a quick de-brief from first-hand accounts shortly after Reach and also before the first wave hit Earth on twenty October, and more has been trickling down ever since. Everything is starting to piece together rather conveniently and we've cobbled a coherent assessment of what everything is and what it all means for the UNSC."

"What, these kiosks? Where are they? What's inside them?"

"Please, Major, I'm confident that all questions will be answered soon, and…"

While they went back and forth, Rion again glanced at the spectrum analyzer—slowly and silently—conscious not to make any of his actions conspicuous. He pointed the receiving end down one of the septagonal offshoots stemming from this circular juncture, then placed his pointer finger over a rotary dial to span the display out to a 50GHz domain-width, the widest it could go. As the device received signals and interpreted their frequency and amplitude, Rion's eyes bulged in amazement as—again—the entire horizontal plane showed modulation occurring, which immediately suggested to him that an infinite amount of data was being propagated here and now. But to where? He then remembered that the antenna currently affixed to the input receptacle was a Cassegrain Parabloid, highly directional and focused.

He stepped away from group, slowly, nonchalant, swiveling the feed horn down the length of each sub-corridor for a few seconds each. The display remained the same. Each hall was producing the same result almost as if the entire area was a resonance chamber. He moseyed back to his place on the outskirts of the Human-Elite assembly and kept his thoughts to himself.

"…because it would take me the better part of a whole day to try and describe everything, Major. It's much easier for you and everyone else if I just give you the grand tour, and then you can each form your questions afterward."

"What sort of information? If it's alien to us, is it comprehensible? Or do we need to hit some kind of learning curve. I'm not sure the Chief and I have the time for—"

"—Yes, Major. It's comprehensible. It's in our common language."

Wu arced a brow. "…Really?"

"Yes. Binary code and DNA sequencing, too. A bit cryptic in meaning most of the time, but we've had teams both here and abroad working on deciphering it all over the recent months. Our productivity has greatly increased ever since Chief Fontaine emplaced a higher speed communications link. Thank you, Chief."

Rion nodded while running a bare palm over the coarse bulwark surrounding him.

"You can guess we've been extremely busy. We've been a little…inhospitable to outsiders. Necessary security measures on many levels, I'm sure the men and women of the Seventh Army will understand in time. Due to our undivided attention, there's a high amount of data gleaned about these ancient beings. We humans have been watched over for some time."

"What's the big take-away?" Rion asked.

"A warning to humanity."

An awkward, silent moment.

"To sum it up," he added, "the beings that built this place are of a highly-advanced civilization that inhabited this galaxy long before homo-sapiens learned to walked upright. We do believe they also pre-date the Covenant Empire. But there's more. This race of beings wasn't just studying humans."

"So, now it's time for your grand tour?" Wu glanced down the length of each hall. Each was incredibly narrow and dark, but anyone could see from the central juncture that they all dead-ended merely a dozen meters in. "To where?"

LeMay smiled. "Hall number one will be first. This way."

The General proceeded down a length that was offset to the main entryway by only a few degrees. Everyone else followed close behind.

Upon approaching halfway-in, a shaft opened where the tunnel-like lane terminated, and a metallic object with a shape no one could accurately describe floated out of the terminus and toward the group. It halted only a couple meters off the General's position. Suspended inside the presumable 'middle' of it was a mesmerizing, glowing column of pure-white. The hallway then brightened with a luminosity that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, just enough for everyone to see the details of this bizarre object's surface—faceted just like the surrounding halls with intricate carvings and impressions and random glyphs. Then, it started to twirl about like a Dreidel right where it hovered. As it spun, Rion could not explain the noise he was hearing, the low-pitched thrumming. It was strange, yet soothing and somehow familiar to him. But it was clearly alien in origin—an audible byproduct of technology beyond his imagining.

LeMay glanced over his shoulder to Major Wu, saying, "Step up."

He ordered the Major as if he was directly under the Flag Officer's command and was humorously being made an example like some unruly subordinate.

Wu glanced all around at his newfound colleagues, catching glimpse of the Elites who were once his and everyone else's sworn enemies. The look on his face was overtly readable, how much more weird could it get?

He was warily postured as he took a place beside the General in the narrow confine.

"Wave your hand at it." LeMay said, grinning.

Wu did as instructed and the object stopped spinning. "Whoa."

Still, the steady, low-pitched whirr of whatever was powering this thing. Otherwise, silence as the group stared onward.

"Touch one of the symbols on its surface. Any one of them." LeMay scooted the Major forth with a hand on his shoulder blade. "Don't worry," he grinned again, "it won't bite."

Wu gaited up and stretched out an index finger, choosing his mark. He had to stand tall to reach it. Once his digit connected with the icon, it lighted upon contact.

"Now, back away."

Wu recanted his steps back to LeMay. Once returned, the levitated entity made a few more rotations and stopped again. There, it split itself apart to project a translucent pane that erupted from within.

A video was now on display for the galaxy to see…

1215 Hours UTC
IRIS — Grand Junction of the Forerunner Antechamber

The entire group returned to the central structure following the video they'd just witnessed.

LeMay gave them some time to reflect and let it all sink in.

The imagery and sounds it produced were an overload to the senses, undoubtedly a treasure trove of information within that the creators of it mastered in order to transmit knowledge and wisdom upon beings of lesser intellect. Everything conveyed was fast-moving and brutally efficient on many levels. Now, they all remained silent as each tried to reproduce the last few moments in their minds, some resting their backs against the contoured walls, some sitting on the contoured floor.

LeMay had referred to it as a kiosk.

Rion was thinking more like 'time capsule'. If indeed the beings that created this machine and this place were ancient, where were they now? What exactly were they warning us of in this message? Were they vanquished? And if so, by what means? And where is the thing they so direly warned of, now?

So many questions.

Rion re-read through the video's transcript that the General provided him in hard-copy form…

This is my final entry, and I am left with one hope
That one day, someone, anyone is around to witness this warning
If you are that witness, and it seems we pinned all our hopes on this single suicidal plan
Know that a thousand other plans were tried and failed
Millions of brave and honored souls died trying to avert this terrible, desperate situation
Know that energetic and tenacious as life is
It has an antithesis just as powerful
It is that thing that we must obliterate

Rion glanced down that fated corridor once again, seeing nothing but the dim lane, the floating 'kiosk' having returned behind its rampart upon the group's withdrawal. He just now noticed upon looking up that the Grand Junction had no manmade illumination, yet the ambience was an almost sterile white. These walls were paler and a lighter-blue than the connecting tunnels, again giving Rion the notion that this place was...alive? Conscious?

It was he who finally broke the silence.

"Sir, does any of this have something to do with the Covenant? The War?"

"Actually, very little, Chief." LeMay moseyed closer to Fontaine. "As I mentioned previously, these messages are extremely old. In fact, Carbon-dating samples of this structure and of all the Servers go back more than one-hundred-thousand years. If anything, Chief, this is all precursor to the Covenant and us."

"Wait…all Servers?"

"Yes, there are five in total."

"Well, we can't go on without having a chance to see everything."

LeMay smiled, saying, "I was hoping you'd want to see more. If you're ready, then."

Thirty minutes later…

The group reconvened back at the middle—the wide ringed section that united the seven corridors—now with much more information to contemplate. As Rion briefly glimpsed about the chamber, he could clearly see that the Elites were also deep in thought as they stood motionless, their heads bowed low. There was so much information to process and consider. Again, Rion re-read each and every transcript in chronological order, courtesy of the General.

This is my final entry, and I am left with one hope
That one day, someone, anyone is around to witness this warning
If you are that witness, and it seems we pinned all our hopes on this single suicidal plan
Know that a thousand other plans were tried and failed
Millions of brave and honored souls died trying to avert this terrible, desperate situation
Know that energetic and tenacious as life is
It has an antithesis just as powerful
It is that thing that we must obliterate

We may have been fools to think that all intelligence follows the rules we've set
The Flood is no idiot parasite
No simple infection to be cured and cauterized
It has a center, a Mind
And that discovery gave us a way to fight it
But when the Mind realized we had its measure
It spoke to us
Mockingly, dismissively
It has done this before
Elsewhere

How many billions will die before we turn the tide?
With every world that perishes, its army grows!
We've tried every measure available
Retreat, attack, defense, it makes no difference
How do we fight a limitless thing that wishes only to embrace you?
The atrocity we plan, the last resort
I pray that it doesn't come to that
I pray that the Contender succeeds where others have failed

The Conservation Measure is the only sweet note in this discordant symphony we've arranged
It's the only constructive activity in decades of destruction
Researching the adversary as we protect the worthy
We know that the Flood's biology is alien enough that it must be extragalactic in origin
But where did it come from?
And why did it come here?

The anomalous world is in a perilous location beyond the line
The secrets it holds must be preserved
Plans within plans within plans
The inhabitants, these unique denizens, must be researched
They may hold answers to our own mysteries
What irony that we discovered this treasure, only at the end of things
But what fortune that we still had time to save them
The thing we built on that world will vouchsafe their lives
But perhaps one day it will be used for its intended purpose
If the plan succeeds, and they are saved, it will be a good world
If the plan fails,
And the adversary succeeds
It will remain an enigma forever
With no one left to reclaim it

"…They were protecting us," Fontaine looked up from where he sat, "studying an extragalactic parasite that they called The Flood. They were obviously an interstellar empire just like us, and this parasitic enemy or the weapons they used against it might've been the cause of their eventual demise. We have some facts, but mostly clues." Rion nodded, "Good clues, at least."

LeMay nodded in agreement. "Their plan in the first message references a weapon that took out all life in the galaxy, presumably one-hundred-thousand years ago, coincident with these messages. Again, core sampling corroborates this."

Fontaine reeled back. "The suicidal plan, yes, their last resort."

LeMay again nodded. "And we have solid human intel to further corroborate the theory, taken from the accounts of several UNSC personnel following the fall of Reach." He walked over to Fontaine as the Chief rose to his feet again. "Here, have a look at this…"

LeMay produced a data tablet displaying video recordings, the first one of which showed the innards of a starship's escape pod. The video was taken from the perspective of an unknown occupant, with the view of passengers on either side, the pilot ahead, and the giant ringworld growing larger through the windscreen. The next scene was of a giant underground structure with vivid holograms shooting up into the air. The frame skipped to wide and high-vaulted corridors with strange, hovering machines discharging what looked to be weaponized LASERs toward aggressive, humanoid creatures—all of them on a hunt for whoever attained this daring footage.

"An alien world?" Fontaine hazarded a guess while all the others in the room watched from over his shoulder. "General, I have to admit…I was skeptical about all this. Maybe even more skeptical than the Major. But everything you've presented so far is overwhelmingly credible. Sorry if we came off as difficult."

"No, not at all." LeMay patted the Warrant Officer on the back. "What is science without a healthy dose of skepticism to keep it in-check? Otherwise, we'd just be chasing any theory we damn well pleased. But we've got it pretty well licked. A large enough community has come to a consensus about who they were, what they were doing, and how this affects us as a species. They cared about sentient life in the galaxy. Those creatures you just saw in the tablet are The Flood they were mentioning in the messages. That ringed structure is another Forerunner creation, one they called HALO. It is responsible for the galaxy-wide destruction. In some instances, they referred to these doomsday weapons as The Array, suggesting there are multiple HALOs throughout the galaxy. A method to ensure complete sterilization of life in the Milky Way. One of our Spartans was able to destroy one of them, the one you just saw, and another was deactivated just prior to firing. But we're of the suspicion that there are even more out there. There are some…extra messages we've received from these terminals here, messages that allude to another structure. They called it The Ark. But with no hard evidence of its existence or its intended purpose, we can only extrapolate that this Ark structure was what bore the remainder of evolutionary life away from the ring's deadly effects while The Flood were stymied. We were just one of those saved, along with the various species that now make up the Covenant. And ex-Covenant." LeMay nodded at the three Sangheili among them.

"The thing they built here, at Earth, will vouchsafe our lives." Rion said, paraphrasing one of the logs. "Researching the adversary while protecting the worthy."

"Yes." LeMay affirmed. "We know they, the Forerunners, directly referenced Earth in this message because the accompanying data extracted from our interaction with the Server's other glyphs gave an image of the supercontinent Pangaea, which formed and broke apart well before one-hundred-thousand years ago."

The Chief rubbed at his chin. "So what thing? This Ark? Where is it, here? It must be the thing they're trying to uncover."

LeMay gestured ahead at the corridor where the fifth and final Server was moments before, and pointed there. "Notice the last hallway is significantly larger than all the others? Well, seismic scans revealed another corridor beyond that wall. It leads straight to the center of what those Captial ships out there are trying to find. It just might be what we're—"

"—Then there's no time to waste!" Lawson proclaimed. "The Covenant can't be far from their goal. We have to beat them to it, so let's get through that last tunnel."

LeMay shook his head. "I didn't say that it was The Ark beyond there, so just hang on. It could be anything. And I'm afraid we can't just wave our hands and expect for some magic to happen again. We got five, good miracles so far. Doesn't seem there'll be a sixth. Not here. The wall beyond the fifth Server doesn't open. At least, it hasn't so far."

"Have you tried forcing your way through it?"

"And damage the structure?"

"What does it matter, sir? You've gleaned as much intel from this place as you could've, right? Time to move on."

"Is that how you operated at Zaragosa Prime, Captain? It's not just about acquiring intel, Eric. I'm not going to upset ancient technology that I'm only just beginning to understand. We took a huge gamble just to dig our way into this place, and there's not one scientist in this facility that would disagree with me."

Lawson placed his hands on his hips, then nodded with a sigh of acceptance. Suddenly, he snapped a finger and glanced upon his Lieutenant. "What if we could still get there, but without the use of force?"

"Sir," the young Lieutenant spoke, "Remember the blowback of using the—"

"—Captain?" a voice called out from the entryway.

All the people at the Grand Junction turned and saw the elderly Doctor approaching, the one that had been the thorn in Wu's and Fontaine's sides.

Upon closing more distance, he said, "Lima Company?!"

Lawson and his group broke the formation and met the man halfway. "Good to see you again, Eli." Lawson replied, shaking the Doctor's hand.

The Lieutenant and the Spartan rushed toward the man to make greetings, then together they returned to the General at the Grand Junction.

LeMay offered them a smile. "Good to see you reunited with your old group, Doctor. For those of you who don't know, Doctor Kleiner is a bit of a world traveler. He was working for Lawson and with Lima Company before moving on to this assignment. I requested his expertise personally."

The Captain patted the Doctor on the back before turning to face his Lieutenant. "But I know you're right, Pennington." Lawson sighed, his posture seeming to deflate upon recognition of something no one but them understood.

"What," LeMay said, "teleporting beyond the final Server with your device?"

"It crossed my mind." Lawson replied. "But Lieutenant Pennington is correct. It doesn't come without consequence."

"Absolutely correct!" LeMay barked. "If this structure does not want us to enter The Ark or whatever is out there, that's the way it should probably stay. We've no idea the Forerunners' true intent, just five messages that hint at their past. Now, Lord Hood informs me that the UNSC is mustering all hands for a counter-attack. Pretty massive one. Might be their last stand."

Lawson then stood taller. "Let's hope it drives them away from The Ark, or whatever it is. It's obviously paramount to them as much as it is to us."

Suddenly, one of the Elites thrust a clenched hand into its own chest, declaring, "A High Prophet is coming this way to enter the Portal. It has always been the hidden intent of Truth The Great Deceiver, and it must not be allowed. It travels on a Forerunner vessel with one of the great Oracles. Misguided though it may be under the Prophet's deceit, the Oracle knows of The Ark and how to activate it."

"They speak." Wu murmured.

"And pretty damned well." Fontaine added.

"So they plan to open sesame that thing with Forerunner technology." LeMay thought aloud. "How long until this Prophet arrives at Earth?"

"It is difficult to say, Commander-Human, but it cannot be far. It draws upon superior Forerunner means of voyage."

LeMay frowned. "I'm not sure of anything more we can do here. I mean, we can do whatever we can to help the Seventh or big-Navy or both, but with the defenses the Covenant Loyalists have positioned above…"

"What about a nuke?" Fontaine posited.

"Hmm, too close. Very risky."

"I was referring to an air-burst."

"I just don't know, Chief. None of us are experts in deploying nuclear weapons outside of metropolitan centers and alien machines."

Wu said, "Whatever we do, there has to be a chance of success. Otherwise we're just wasting more time and resources."

All eyes instinctively glanced toward Captain Lawson—dressed in that suggestive, beaming-white Naval coat—the attire that announced one's status as Ship Commander.

"Never saw much combat in the Captain's seat," Lawson shrugged.

"I might know of something," Pennington, the young lieutenant said.

"Speak," LeMay ordered.

"Okay, this might seem a little crazy, but I've heard it could work. We'd need Rhinos to do it. Anyone know of any nearby? I know...that's a long shot."

"Rhinos…" LeMay said, thinking. "You mean that experimental Mobile Artillery Platform? That's prototype Covie tech."

"Exactly."

"But these are Battlecruisers and Assault Carriers. Even if there was enough punch from those to do any real damage, they're way above range for those tanks."

"Not if the tanks are already airborne when they fire, sir."

LeMay glanced about the chamber as if someone else knew what the LT was getting at, but everyone was just as perplexed as the General, each raptly listening in.

Pennington added, "Pelicans haul Scorpions to the battlefield all the time, don't they? So why can't Rhinos take some shots at altitude?"

LeMay returned the LT's grin and patted him on the back. "Now that is the kind of ingenuity that keeps my faith in the UNSC on the up-and-up. We're going to do exactly what you're suggesting, Lieutenant Pennington, and I think I know where to find some Rhinos. Captain Lawson, get on a direct line to the East African Arms Depot and tap their inventory. They've got to have what we're looking for. If they give you any flak, find me. Now, the last question is if Colonel Mattis would be willing to provide any air support?"

Rion said, "Just me speaking here, but I would think Colonel Mattis would readily lend something to the cause."

1430 Hours UTC
Fourteenth Floor, 7th Army Main Command Post
Brigade Support Battalion, Commander's Support Cell

Rion could hear the strange powerplants of the Type-52 Phantom troop carriers power-on. The three Elites who'd taken part in General LeMay's grand tour were now on their way. Most 906th personnel hadn't even got the chance to lay eyes on the ex-Covenant warriors, and even in their presence Rion didn't see or hear them do very much. Maybe the open invitation was one of many ways in which HighComm and ONI extended peace offerings to the newly-allied species. Rion doubt he'd ever know. Diplomacy was never his strong point anyway.

Now, a collective sigh of relief could be sensed among the entire outpost once the vessel departed the airspace. Phantom out of sight and sound, Rion turned back to the scene of the Support Cell and could see the General himself conversing alone with Colonel Mattis, both of them far-removed from the vicinity of the frenzied activity. Mattis gave a thoughtful (some would've said submissive) nod at the General and immediately proceeded to an empty station, raising a holographic keypad and typing in a message with haste. Seconds later, that message was broadcast to all the Command Post's nets, to all personnel.

Rion reached for his flex-display…

Your determination has been tried and you've triumphed. I don't know the full extent of the alliance HighComm has planned with the Elites, but I wouldn't be surprised myself if any one of them developed second thoughts. I do know one thing and that's old habits die hard. And they were once our most dangerous adversary. So, assume nothing. If any should visit this Command Post again, be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill every one of them you meet.

After reading the communiqué, Rion again looked for Mattis. He'd reconvened with his people near the giant holo-display just off the various stations. Rion moved in to discern the unit's next move(s), hoping he'd be privy to the information.

"…So I want you to task a light squadron of Pelicans to the East Africa Arms Depot for a priority acquisition of all M-One-Forty-Five-D Rhino vehicles on-site with an immediate return-to-base. Attach Hornets as wingmen."

The Major would've readily agreed, but upon returning to the surface and querying the numbers up at the Support Cell, doubt crept in. "Just so you know, sir, we'd be diverting birds from active ferrying. The FOB still needs us. Watson and Captain Stern, out there, alone."

"I see now that General LeMay's come up with a good play for stalling, or even defeating, the Covenant. I wasn't sure it could be pulled off until I found out just how many of those Rhinos were collecting dust over there, but this could actually buy the UNSC their much-needed time to finalize the counter-attack."

"Sir, I'd by withholding critical info if I didn't say the math isn't there to support it. We've already loaned out the maximum amount of aircraft that we could to other units, and we don't know if we're ever going see them again. A favor here, a favor there. It all adds up. And in order to keep current levels of sustainment up and running between here and our FOB, we can't sacrifice even one more bird. I'd advise you to heavily consider all this."

"No victory comes without sacrifice."

Wu glanced at his superior with an instant of admiration, but it faded just as quickly as it came when he realized this operation would condemn thousands of good soldiers to their deaths, possibly an even greater amount of civilians. It was so easy for Mattis to grasp the bigger picture, like he was born for it, a savant who could filter out and overlook all things tertiary to military victory. But the cost...there was always a cost. One last chance to sway his leader's decision.

"Sir, the UNSC has their mission and we have ours. Our people are depending on a certain level of support. The playbook is clear on this, and you know that, you helped write it out."

"I know I'm going against my own grain on this one, but mission or not this has to be done."

"And the broader implications of reducing our capabilities, especially the airborne assets? The Seventh is the peoples' last beacon out there. If we can't remain whole, how do we continue to maintain that FOB and protect the assurances we've guaranteed to Mombasa?"

"Even broader is the Covenant's new interest. We're in command of the Nine-Oh-Sixth because we're strategists, Wu, not bookworms. Can't lose sight of the bigger picture regardless of what the book recommends...and the cost in our capital. The playbook can't predict everything, as carefully written as it was. The UNSC isn't ready to strike back yet and the Covenant are getting closer to whatever it is they're after, something so important that they've focused more energy on it than Mombasa…and we need to be a part of it. And I need you with me on this one."

1545 Hours UTC
Commander's Support Cell

The drone of the Command Team's inner sanctum was louder than it ever was. All technicians could be heard radioing to their distant ends and junior commander's scurried everywhere, stepping from station to station shouting orders. It faded only a slight amount as Rion ventured to a ledge at the East wall. The incoming whir of Pelicans was always a welcome sound. But these inbound dropships were indubitably special. Rion pushed aside some camo netting and peered out, looking down as Crew Chiefs rushed toward the hovering birds. Cradled beneath them where what would be the Seventh Army's emissaries to the trespassing Capital Ships: UNSC Rhinos dangling from their messenger-Pelicans. Their 320mm 'Zeus' Cannons propelled plasma rounds derived from the Covenant's own weapons technology and were devastatingly effective at weakening energy shields.

Rion couldn't help but think the whole plan was hasty and that was essentially the weak part of it all. If there was any real resistance along the way, the losses would be significant with such a large, cohesive mass of aircraft all traveling in the same direction, most of them liabilities due to lacking offensive attributes. And it was Fontaine who called into question the feasibility of it all: tanks firing their main batteries while suspended in air. It was a huge technicality, so much so that a centralized class-six dumb AI would be monitoring each vessel's telemetry solely for the purpose of compensating recoil. For now, the people on the ground were calling it the Pennington Algorithm and were hoping it would work well enough once the first shots were fired—because the first might very well be their last, people rightly gathered. Rion could see the Crew Chiefs locking eyes with pilots as they hovered not too far above, talking loudly into their microphones over the screeching thrusters and swirling dust. Rion peered to the North: off in the distance a complementary swarm of AV-14 Attack Hornets lingered in wait.

After a few more moments of three-way coordination between Support Staff, Crew Chiefs, and Air-Cav Pilots of every sort, each groundside Crew Chief gave a thumbs-up and the modified airborne artillery sortie was off and zooming straight into the fray.

"So, what do you think, Chief?"

Rion wheeled around to see LeMay and Lawson approaching while the sounds of aircraft jetwash subsided.

"Think of what, sir, this airstrike? I don't know what to say…I mean…it's unprecedented. That's for sure." Rion nodded absentmindedly, then said, "It would be completely unexpected, that kind of a strike. What's more is the Covenant would have a really hard time locating the source of fire, and there'd be so many sources of it. The birds could fan out and strike from multiple points at once, or independently. With the amount of combat air support Mattis attached to them, I'd say the Rhinos have free reign up there. A damned shooting gallery. That's a fine LT you've got there, Captain. Very clever lad."

"Pennington is one of the best." Lawson nodded.

"So," the General said, breathing deeply, "What of your communications situation? Have you tried to restore your capabilities yet? Or is the interference still too much?"

"Truthfully, I haven't given it much thought. Seems we're doing just fine. With us taking the offensive for once, I'm sure it will stay that way."

"Indeed." LeMay nodded. "Stick around this floor for a while and you'll see something truly…uplifting."

"What's that, sir?"

"We've pulled out some stops for this pre-counter. Got an impressive strike package being worked in concert with no less than three agencies. Whatever ships remain in the UNSC Home Fleet, they will swoop in for mop-up once it's all done."

"Does that mean the orbital MACs are…down?"

"Afraid so, but it doesn't matter much. These remaining Capital Ships are pretty much all that's left on the Covenant side of the fight, so you could say we're skipping to dessert a little early." LeMay grinned.

Rion could hear a lone technician—currently the loudest voice in the area—spouting off wide-area regional grid coordinates to some unknown recipient on the distant-end of his conversation.

Rion looked back to LeMay and smiled. "That must be it."

LeMay nodded and gaited toward the Support Cell alongside Captain Lawson, leaving Chief Fontaine at the ledge.

Rion looked down and realized he was still clutching at the spectrum analyzer, unaware of its weight the whole time. It had become like an attachment, like a prosthesis. He smiled at the lifeless object—it had become his most trusted advisor throughout the deployment to this outpost. Out of curiosity, he brought its front panel to bear and stared at the power switch. He stabbed it and started pointing the antenna around, again out of curiosity. Nothing much was happening, but then in an instant, an extraordinary idea popped in his head, the thing that was nagging at him again and again everyday.

"Ho-lee-shit!"

LeMay and Lawson stopped and turned.

Rion looked up at the two, switching off the device and walking toward them.

"General, all the Forerunner installations you mentioned…they're communicating with each other."

"Well, yes, I had assumed that, Chief. Did you have else anything to add?"

"No. I mean, yes, obviously. But I have a good feeling that their interstellar communication utilizes a means that transfers information instantaneously, regardless of distance."

"Regardless of distance?" LeMay squinted. "Are you certain? From all the intel we've compiled, these installations are dozens, in some cases hundreds of light-years apart."

"Maybe they're communicating through slipspace just like we do," Lawson offered.

"No," Rion shook his head, "because even then it would take days or weeks for transmissions to arrive. Slipspace is too inefficient to be traveling free space this fast."

This caught Lawson's attention even more, began leaning inward.

The Chief continued, "General, when was the first Ring destroyed?"

"Twenty-Two September, approximately."

Rion powered on the spectrum analyzer again and started to access its logging buffer history.

"And do you recall any significant events occurring on or around four November?"

"Yes, in fact that's when another strike group deactivated an additional HALO."

"How distant are these structures from Earth?"

"Like I said before…many, many light-years. Weeks' journey by the slipstream."

Fontaine nodded. "And at the distance between these places and Earth, slipspace comms would definitely require more than a week's journey as well. But the signals emanating from this structure occurred coincident with all events. I believe…and this is pretty wild but just bear with me…these installations are hijacking the cosmic background and can somehow modulate this naturally-occurring radiation with their own data."

"Do you possess any evidence to corroborate this theory?"

"Yes. I've got histograms saved on my equipment and their timestamps reference the most accurate stratum, the UNSC Observatory Constellation. And from what I've seen, sir, the entire electromagnetic spectrum is at their disposal. The Forerunners' installations are in-synch…at all times."

"I'm sure you have done extensive analysis of all this hard data, Chief," Lawson said assumingly.

"Too much to cover here and now, but—"

"—Do you have a shortened version? As you can see, time is never abundant."

"Yes. You see, electricity simply wants to take the path of least resistance, like lightening here on Earth."

"We're all aware of this." Le May grumbled.

"Well, what happens when there's already charged particles lingering out there? I'm talking loads of it, the remnants of the Big Bang. All this ionized gas is just acting as one, big plasma channel, spread out over the entire universe. The Forerunners that built all these superstructures are taking advantage of it to the fullest. And just so you know, the most ubiquitous substance in the universe is plasma. These installations you've detailed have a filament with which to propagate their signals. It's an infinite spectrum with an infinite operating bandwidth providing instantaneous communications no matter where the source and destination are located."

Silence.

"Okay, if you were to look at the spectrum, all you'd see is noise, but it's really not. If you could actually demodulate whatever data there is hidden inside the radiation," Fontaine continued, "you can converse with the universe."

Lawson squared his stance toward the Chief. "Can we take advantage of something like this?"

"I don't know, sir. A great deal of research would have to be expended to find out."

Before either of them could conjecture further, a flood of activity took place at the Support Cell just a few dozen paces away. Dozens of 906th soldiers darted away from their stations and to all directions, heading off into areas unknown. Two runners sprinted in a bee-line toward an elevator, descending to somewhere in the structure.

LeMay waved on Lawson and the Chief as he jogged that way. "I think something's happening with our plan. Let's go see what's going on."

Major Wu had arrived, side-stepping to various stations down one particular row, issuing instructions to technicians only to be off on the move again.

"Chief," Wu glanced up to the Warrant Officer with a seldom-seen spark in his eyes, "I'm glad you're here. You're about to get a front row seat."

"What happened? Good news?"

"The attack sortie radioed in," the Major grinned again, "and they reported one of the Cruiser's shields is down. No time to waste!" Wu shouted into the entire structure. More people sprang into action.

The X.O. instantly started typing in commands at one of the holopads, slamming the ENTER button home with a stiff index finger. "Done and done."

He immediately stepped around the wide Support Cell, making his way to the General.

"Sir," he reached out a hand, "on behalf of all the Nine-Oh-Sixth, the Seventh Army, and all the people of Mombasa, thank you!"

LeMay reached down to the squat Major, shook his hand and smiled. "Let's hope it works."

Wu took a cleansing breath and glanced over the men and women of the Support Cell. "Fantastic work, people! You pulled it off! Now break out the popcorn."

A chiming of the elevator had all personnel alerted to that direction. The two runners sprinted out side-by-side, carrying a large, ruggedized transit case between them by the thick handles. They stopped in front of the gathering crowd of the Support Cell, set the case down on the concrete and started to open it.

One of them flipped the top cover over while the other removed an H-165 Forward Observer Module.

A Private First Class named Huckston stood up and nodded at the Major. "Sir, serial number is five-five-kilo-whiskey-golf-one-niner."

"Confirmed." Said the other alongside him.

"Control," Wu spoke into his communicator, "unique device ID being sent to you now." Wu keyed in the same alphanumerics into his flex-display.

The unit's internal net sent the data frames out their multiplexer and toward the Chief's LASER uplink, which blasted the modulated information skyward to the vast constellation of geosync satellites in orbit, propagating throughout the speediest segments of the secured grid where it was ultimately routed to Missile Defense Command.

"You qualified to operate that Targeting Designator, Huck?" Wu asked bluntly.

"Usually sightin' up them Wraith tanks with this 'lil thang, sir, but I reckon that ole porker out there moves just 'bout as slow."

"Then go!"

The PFC took off running.

Dozens of others followed him up the final ramp into the searing light of the late afternoon. They rushed behind him toward the Northern parapet, and he immediately scanned for the prime target—that colossal Assault Cruiser dominating the desert plain—it wasn't hard to miss.

"Purtty far out dere. Need someone to spot meh."

"I got it!" Fontaine yelled, scrambling for his ops tent.

He was back into the sun a few seconds later with The WaCK in-hand. He powered up the optical transducing device and removed the dust cover from the eye cups, then donned it over his face while he marched toward the PFC's position—that targeting device of his propped up over the ledge—and peered outward along the soldier's vector.

A bright, blue, pencil-thin beam lanced out and into the far horizon nearly parallel with the ground. The target was out that way, acting with impunity, a cascade of scorching plasma showering the Earth.

Rion configured maximum zoom and the beam quadrupled in girth as he became face to face with the monstrosity.

"Come one degree left." Fontaine spoke lowly, calmly. "Roger, hold there. You're right at amidships. Perfect. Don't move one bit."

Rion thought he could see a lone Pelican/Rhino hybrid come into view, but the extreme distance was too much for The WaCK's capabilities. It was designed to quickly verify visual of a link activation, up to a couple dozen kilometers out at most, and for an invisible spectrum at that. His display was a completely-digitized version of the real thing. All he could see of the smaller craft zooming around out there was just their fuzzy outlines. He removed the headset from his eyesight and took in a broad, unaltered view of the sky. Lawson and LeMay then took his side just as a cluster of tiny motes suddenly emerged from a mass of clouds just off the Assault Carrier's position.

Pulse LASERs struck out in multiple directions like sun rays through a dissipating squall, the enemy vessel attempting to down as many of the fast-moving Archer missiles as possible. A few dozen of them skirted by and scored hits all across the length of the hull, peppering the Assault Carrier's sides with holes like a block of Swiss cheese. The resulting explosions were miniscule and weren't enough to inflict any critical damage, just enough to harass and intimidate for only a moment, but it was no matter: the diversion served the incoming ICBM well. Lawson barely had any time point at the hypersonic 11-B1 rocket as it lanced toward the massive vessel from directly above.

The streak of off-white wake was thin and concentrated and stretched into the farthest reaches of sky. At the head of this vertical, smoky column, the warhead jettisoned from the final stage with one last bout of thrust, now unavoidable by any means. Too fast-moving compared to the bloated body beneath it. Too fast for any defensive maneuvers whatsoever. It slammed into the top of the ship and produced an arc of light brighter than the sun that moment.

All spectators were forced to cover their eyes.

When the glow subsided a few seconds later, the ship was rent in two.

The thunderclap and the shockwave then hit the Parking Garage as the twin halves of the vanquished ship spewed out massive jets of smoke and plasma and flame, slowly listing apart. The strike was clean and absolute, the target effectively obliterated and now careening on a lazy path that would take both pieces clear over the top of Mombasa and toward a watery resting place somewhere inside the Indian Ocean.

The rooftop became a deafening roar of cheer and laughter and revelry.

"Fuck the popcorn, where's the champagne?!" Mattis cried with fists raised.

"I'm sure the Doctor's got some below!" Wu gagged on his own laughter.

The remaining Capital Ships stopped glassing immediately and changed their courses, sending random plasma torpedoes and erratic pulse LASER strikes in all directions, paranoid of a similar death blow. The General nodded at the end result, wholly satisfied. "Well, it seems the battle might no longer be one-sided, at least for a little while. For such a hasty plan, we did rather well."

"Rather well?" Mattis glanced sidelong at LeMay. "General, you've got a talent for understatement."

"Friendly aircraft inbound!" Someone shouted.

Wu collected himself and accessed his flex-display, small bouts of laughter escaping. "No name and no tail number," he coughed, "just an ONI designation."

Fontaine pointed high at a nearly vertical angle as a large, black spot descended rapidly. It came within a kilometer of the Command Post before its true shape was discernible, then it found a landing space a good distance off the Southern front of the structure, the massive dust plume rising over the ledge a moment later.

"A Prowler." Mattis remarked, brow raised. "Must be someone important."

"…And would you look at that," LeMay smiled. "My ride is here. Perfect timing."

"Going somewhere, General?" Fontaine asked.

"Time to see Lord Hood. Admiral's due a good briefing. Nice knowing you all, and good luck from here on out. Call me if you need another favor, but only if it's major." He turned to Captain Lawson and said, "Eric, shall we?"

Captain Lawson nodded at the men and women of the Nine-Oh-Sixth and followed behind the General toward the elevator, his entourage closely in tow.

Fontaine stopped them short when he called out, "Hey, Spartan. I found those three numbers for you."

071 turned and said, "Yes?"

"One-one-seven."

"Thank you, Chief."

Fontaine said, "Captain, thought you might stay and enjoy the fireworks."

Smiling, Lawson said, "My place is with General LeMay and Lord Hood. But here…take my data chit." Lawson reached into a pocket and tossed the clear cube at Fontaine, who snatched it out of the air with one, swift swipe. "If we win this War, you and I will need to have a serious talk about future opportunities within my community. We would benefit from your expertise. Think it over."

Rion brought the crystal to bear and read the exterior etching aloud. "Captain Eric Lawson, Deputy Director of Special Wartime Operations Research and Development Command. That's quite a mouthf—"

"—Just call us SWORD."

Rion chuckled, said, "Whatever you say, sir."

Pennington pivoted to face Doctor Kleiner and said, "Hey, Doc, I guess this is where we part ways for good. But if ever again you find yourself inside a lab at the bottom of some dark corner of a world needing protection, you know who to call."

Kleiner flashed a rare smile and said, "Good luck."

Fontaine nodded at the naval Captain and his people, and everyone there waved them goodbye. The sunbathed victors carried on. Moments later, the Prowler ascended on a straight path toward orbit. The waning sun shone brightly alongside Mount Kilimanjaro and across the vast landscape while Covenant Capital Ships seemed to scuttle away from its aura. The 906th, the UNSC, the city of New Mombasa prevailed.

Today was a victory.

The next ten days would be another trial of its own...

-THE END-

You asked me once, what happened to those who vanished?
You asked me, why did we survive where our fathers fell?
You wished to know how we ever let it happen
A scourge that consumed the galaxy
And the cure that was worse than the cancer
You asked me once about my intent
And the spot that would not wash out
I promise you the answers lie in the Ark
Find me there in the dark
For that is where I abide