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Halo: Shadows of Hope

Chapter 3: Storm of Chaos

Phoenix-class colony ship Haven

Geo-stationary orbit around Planet Hope

Captain Justin Sattler had a dislike of the unknown.

For some, this may have seemed odd. A navy, although sailing the currents of slipspace rather than Earth's oceans, was still a navy and had ships. Ships captained by individuals who, theoretically at least, harkened back to the explorers of old, of individuals who left the safety of their homelands to explore the seas of their homeworld and confront the unknown for reasons ranging from scientific discovery to conquest. Although times had changed, for a ship commander to dislike the unknown…well, it seemed wrong somehow.

If someone had confronted Sattler over the issue, he would have explained that it was not so much the unknown that he found disconcerting, but rather what the unknown was associated with. Understandable, considering that the word "unknown" was often associated with a collection of xenocidal bastards known as the Covenant. Their ultimate motives were unknown. The location of their homeworld was unknown. The extent of their manpower (or alienpower as some called it) was unknown. They'd appeared out of the unknown. Their…well, anyone could see a pattern developing here. Suffice to say, the unknown had lost its appeal.

So therefore, the black haired, dark skinned man with grey eyes that missed no detail, had disliked the fact that what had occurred on the Aeros yesterday was unknown to him. Despite being in command of a battlegroup consisting of three ships including his own that were supposedly situated above the dustball below to protect it, the ONI spooks treated him like…well, like they treated everyone outside their organization. If he was on the station itself he may have been able to make them see things differently but as that wasn't the case, he had to rely on more subtle means to out what had descended to the planet's surface. Something that apparently didn't concern him and would be handled by the Aeros's own people.

Basically, something that he should be involved in, but wasn't. At least not directly…

To this end, Sattler pressed a button of the holotank by his desk. Less than a second later, an image of a man who looked like something out of Greek mythology appeared, sky blue light illuminating the captain's sparsely lit quarters.

"Yes, what is it?" the figure asked irritably.

Sattler smiled faintly, going over documents that constantly tempted him to open an airlock and dump them out into space. "Nice to see you too," the man murmured.

"Get to the point flyboy."

If it had been a crewman speaking to Sattler, he would have probably disciplined said individual on the spot there and then, if only for the mediocre satisfaction that one receives from flaunting their authority. Ulysses however, was not a crewman and wouldn't be until artificial intelligence was classified as such, if at all. Regardless, while such constructs had a range of functions, Ulysses had been created for the sole purpose of navigation. A 'dumb' AI as the case was, meaning that he excelled in only one particular field.

Which made his current endeavor seemingly doomed to failure…

"Any luck yet?" Sattler asked, spinning around on his chair to face the AI's avatar; that of a bearded man with a headband around messy hair.

Ulysses sighed. "Captain, is there something wrong with your memory?"

"Perhaps," grinned the fleetman, reflecting that three years of being stationed above a single planet could probably lead to memory loss. "Why?"

"Because you asked me that same question three-hundred and three seconds ago," the AI growled, turning a darker shade of blue. "So pray tell me, what do you think could have possibly changed in five minutes!"

Sattler suspected that the AI was faking this. For a being who measured time in nanoseconds, being asked the same question every five minutes probably wasn't that bad. Still, AIs often developed personalities that reflected both their nature and appearance. As far as Sattler could tell, Ulysses copied Homer's creation perfectly; an arrogant twat who liked to boast of every single deed that he'd done.

There were only so many times you could listen to an AI fighting off Scylla and Charybdis…

"Just answer the question," the captain murmured, turning back to the documents. It was a yearly record that had to be completed of all fleet actions, or rather, the lack of them. Sattler wanted to complete them early so he could get drunk in time for New Year's Day.

"As you're no doubt aware, the answer is no," said Ulysses, his artificial voice embedded with genuine arrogance. "I was designed as an AI to help with navigation, not for hacking computer systems."

"But there's a chance, right?" Sattler asked, sounding more hopeful than he intended.

Ulysses shrugged. "Yes, I guess. If you take a one point six percent likelihood of success a chance that is."

Sattler fell silent, concentrating on ordinance maintenance records with more brooding concentration than he thought possible. He knew the chances of Ulysses succeeding in hacking into the Aeros's computer systems were low, but that much? He couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Anyway, even if I could succeed, then what?" Ulysses asked, seemingly sensing his superior's despondence. "What I'm doing comes under the classification of unsanctioned espionage, punishable under the terms of Article C34-5-…"

"Ulysses, you know as well as I do that something is rotten in the state of Denmark!" Sattler exclaimed.

Ulysses blinked. "Sir, I'm not a Shakespearean AI…"

"That's not the point," Sattler grunted, giving up pondering over checklists of Archer missile payloads and instead focusing on the piece of coding beside him.

"You were aware of it before any of us," said Sattler slowly. A single HEV was dispatched from the Aeros this morning, making landfall approximately seven miles north of Settlement Zero-one. The spooks are refusing to comment on what happened and have sent their own people to retrieve it."

"Your point?" asked Ulysses, his processing power going down a few kilobytes due to boredom.

"My point…" said Sattler, leaning forward. "Is that they're keeping me out of the loop when they damn well shouldn't be!"

If he was physically able to, Ulysses would have recoiled. Not out of fear, an emotion that a dumb AI was only capable of experiencing in rare circumstances (if any), but to make the point that Sattler might be losing it. Truth be told, Ulysses wouldn't have been that surprised if that was the case; insanity was seemingly part of the price that one paid for organic sapience and besides, Sattler had been complaining about the posting non-stop, ever since he and two other ships were transferred to Hope and designated Battlegroup FOX, stripped of their former Rapier designation. Sattler had always wondered what prompted the name change, never getting an answer, for reasons equally unknown.

The first step on the road to madness perhaps? No matter. Ulysses had received an interesting tidbit of information in the last 0.37 seconds that could change that…

"Sir, I will continue to scan the Aeros' databanks for any useful information," said Ulysses formally, dredging up his formality protocols from the depths of his Riemann processing matrix. "However, I think there's something else that you should look at first."

Sattler snorted. "What, something interesting happened on the surface for the first and only time?"

"No sir, it's above it actually," said the AI quietly, his form dissipating from the holotank, being replaced by a hologram of Hope and its surrounding area.

At first, Sattler saw nothing out of the ordinary, the image of the ships above Hope having remained the same over the last three. The Aeros was the most noticeable, given its size, with the Haven quickly catching Sattler's eye-something akin to a father-son mentality. However, while he also spared a glance at the two frigates Charon and Unity, they barely registered in his mind. What truly caught his eye was a slipspace rupture directly off their battlefront. A rupture that corresponded to a large capital ship…a Covenant CCS-class battlecruiser to be exact. One which was heading straight for them.

"Shit," murmured Sattler.

"Excellent summary sir," said Ulysses dutifully. "Orders?"

It took Sattler a few seconds to fully register Ulysses' query, courtesy of two conflicting emotions coursing through him. On one hand, there was trepidation-this was a Covenant ship, a vessel that was advanced, powerful and deadly. On the other hand, he was experiencing an emotion that the last three years had been devoid of…excitement.

"Send out an alert to the ships," Sattler murmured eventually. "If those alien scum want a fight, they'll get one.

"Will do sir," Ulysses answered. "The Covenant won't be finding our Achilles Heel anytime soon." With that, he disappeared, klaxons blaring throughout the ship a second later as Paris prepared to fire his arrow at something that hopefully wasn't invulnerable for the most part. Sattler meanwhile started heading out of the room for the bridge, not intent on being found wanting. As he reached the door however, he stopped and gave a quick glance at the hologram. Tags were appearing on all of FOX's ships, indicating that they'd received Ulysses' message. Simultaneously, the Covenant cruiser was…heading straight for them.

Something was wrong and Sattler knew it. Covenant ships were far better armed and armored than their human counterparts, common theory holding that it would require a 3:1 superiority to defeat a Covenant fleet. Granted, there were a few problems with the theory here. It was a single alien ship rather than a fleet for starters, if you wanted to be pedantic, not to mention that a cruiser was well above a frigate's tonnage. Still, the Haven was the largest ship in the system right now, which would theoretically bring the ratio back into place. Yet right now the cruiser was on an intercept course like a rabid dog or a charging knight, depending on whether one considered the aliens piloting it to be brave or suicidal.

Or I've missed something…

Sattler shrugged. He'd find out soon enough.

CCS-class battlecruiser Divine Crusader

Status: Engaging human fleet

Pride was something that came before glory or a fall and standing on the bridge of his ship, 'Tikawomee was acutely aware of it. His fellow sangheili around him and a Prophet beside him, the ship master was placing hope in the possibility that it would be the former and not the latter alternative that, given his situation, would work literally. Still, he would find out soon enough. The human ships had presumably detected their entry and were already in what he supposed was a battle formation.

"Look at them," Devotion sneered, a tactical map displayed in front of him. "Standing before us, as if thinking they can alter the currents of fate." He fell silent, noticing 'Tikawomee's uneasy expression.

"Something bothering you Shipmaster?" asked the Prophet slowly.

'Tikawomee decided to embrace the virtue of honesty. "You could say that," he murmured, continuing to stare at the view screen. "After all, the prospect of being outnumbered three to one is hardly appealing when we are indeed but one ship."

The Prophet snorted. "So they make an island of dung to stand against us?" He slapped the sangheili's arm, not tall enough to reach the creature's shoulder. "Fear not ship master. Land will give way to water eventually."

'Tikawomee simply nodded, remaining silent. Perhaps because of this, or simply just seeking to assert his authority as the ship's dogmatic yardstick, Devotion reached for the intercom. 'Tikawomee sighed mentally. Here we go, he thought.

"Fellow warriors!" Devotion thundered. "Within moments we will be upon the wretched creatures that stand before us, those who would burn their own world rather than bequeath the relics that our gods left behind for us to find. I ask you, not as a leader, but as a fellow soldier (he considers himself a soldier? 'Tikawomee wondered), to honor those before us. Maintain the glory and power of the Covenant. Let none stand in the way of the Great Journey!"

Cheers echoed throughout the bridge, a sound that was no doubt mirrored throughout the rest of the bridge. 'Tikawomee turned to the Prophet.

"Eloquently delivered milord," said the sangheili diplomatically. "Speeches aside however, may I actually get round to conducting this battle?"

"Yes, of course," answered Devotion, his voice indicating that he may have shouted too much for his own good. "Cleanse the infidels with plasma and free the stars from their taint."

'Tikawomee gave a small nod and turned back to the view-screen, the human fleet maintaining its position near some kind of space station. "Have no fear holy one," he said softly. "The system shall be cleansed of the heathens."

Providing that they don't cleanse us first…

Office of Mining Operations, Settlement 01 ("Thunderville")

Planet Hope

There was apparently some book written thousands of years ago back on Earth that, among other things, decreed that one should not lie. Right now however, standing in front of his employer, Ardo felt inclined to tell the writer of that book to go rot in hell and face reality. After all, if he'd followed said edict and not lied, then he'd either be accused of doing that which must not be done or be in even deeper shit.

A small consolation as the case was.

"Turner, do you take me for an idiot?" Riley asked, the grey haired, blue eyed man asked, his skin stretching as he leant back in his chair. Ardo raised an eyebrow. He'd never thought it possible for Riley to look uglier than the standard set years ago, but now he'd-…

"Turner!"

"Er, no sir," Ardo lied. "Not at all sir."

Riley snorted, leaning back forward. "Turner, lying isn't one of your strong points."

"Sir, I think you're being a bit…"

"A bit what?" Riley snarled. "A bit overly dubious concerning the validity account that the mountain path collapsed as you were rolling along in the rock harvester, and despite your best efforts, it fell into the canyon?"

"Yep, that's it."

Riley leaned back, putting his boots on the table that Ardo suspected was not paid for in cash that came only from legitimate sources. Reaching for a drawer of said desk, the old geyser drew out a Sweet Williams Cigar and laser lighter, combining the effects of both.

Bastard, Ardo thought bitterly. "He gets the good stuff while I'm stuck with these sodding cancer sticks. What kind of-…

"You know what Turner?" Riley asked suddenly, smoke blowing out his nostrils like a peeved dragon from one of Earth's many mythologies "I'm not going to fire you."

"Oh thank God! For a moment there I-…"

"Instead I'm docking seventy five percent of your weekly pay until the debt is paid."

"WHAT!"

The grin on the face of Ardo's boss was about as cheesy as camembert and smelt just as bad as well. "Come on Ardo, think about it. Accident or not, a harvester has still been destroyed. And as you were the one who was driving it-…"

"Hey, Tara was in there as well!" Ardo protested, still unable to fully comprehend the situation.

"Was she indeed?" Riley asked, his smile turning into something that resembled something less cheesy and something more lecherous. "Well, no doubt that she'll be able to help repay the debt in ways other than-…"

"I think that I'll keep to the standard fashion," Ardo quickly interrupted. "Good day sir."

And with that he walked out, mind roaring, ears burning and his fists flexing. Seventy-five percent…not that there was really much need for money on Hope, but without a greater amount on his paycheck, that was going to equal a lot less nicotine, alcohol and the amount he could wager in the seemingly eternal poker games in the settlement. What could this possibly amount to, if anything?

There is another option of course, came a voice at the back of the miner's head. You could mention the light…

Right now, it seemed a bit academic. Any return to the office and accompanying excuses would be given far less credibility than his first account, provided that he'd actually been given any credibility at all. And while those black armored soldiers would be able to verify his story if they'd indeed been looking for the object's landing site, such verification would involve the knowledge that he was actually there. And with tall, dark and ugly rising from flat, dark and ugly, Ardo knew what that would lead to…

May as well just ride it out I guess, thought miner bitterly. It's not as if things could get any worse…

Phoenix-class colony ship Haven

Status: Engaged with Covenant CCS-class battlecruiser

"Ulysses, what in the name of Bloody Elisa just happened!"

Under normal circumstances, Ulysses may have pointed out to the captain that using the patron saint of vacuum's name in vain could wind up with him in her arms and that it was a case of what had not happened, rather than what had. What had not happened, contrary to all hopes and expectations, was that a salvo of three 600-ton ferric-tungsten projectiles with depleted uranium cores moving at 30,000 kilometers per second would slam into a Covenant battlecruiser bearing down on them. Instead, only two had been fire and those two had done jack.

"Analysis of our ship's MAC indicates flaws in the tungsten steel coils," said Ulysses calmly, his voice drastically out of place in the general feeling prevalent on the bridge. "I think this has been the case for at least three years."

"Three years!" Sattler exclaimed. "How the hell did we miss a flaw like that for…oh shit…"

Right now, the captain didn't care about the Haven's magnetic accelerator cannon, as pressing as an issue as it was. All he cared about was that the Covenant battlecruiser had unleashed a volley of plasma torpedoes. Plasma torpedoes that were heading towards his two frigates that he'd sent ahead of the Haven under the assumption that the colony ship's MAC, when combined with their own, would make such hounding tactics viable-either they pummeled the battlecruiser with Archer missiles or, if the shields were still up, broke off. However, with the battlecruiser completely unfazed by the opening volley, it was able to use far more firepower than Sattler had anticipated. So much fire, that in two explosions of superheated gas, Charon ended up on the wrong side of the River Styx and Unity's structure became far less unified.

Outnumbered three to one…and now the Covenant had evened those odds in a matter of minutes…

"Sir, your orders?" Ulysses asked.

…

"Sir, orders?" the AI asked, this time more forcefully. "Are you going to issue them?"

…

"Sir! Are you going to-…"

"Yes Ulysses, I am," said Sattler suddenly, turning to face the AI as his mind finished formulating a desperate plan. "I'm going to issue orders on how we're going to send these alien bastards back to whatever shade of hell spawned them.

CCS-class Battlecruiser Divine Crusader

Status: Engaging human fleet

"Look at them! Already the vermin retreat before our might."

As much as 'Tikawomee hated to admit it, he had to agree with the Prophet's assumption. One volley from the humans that was completely ineffective, a return volley of their own which destroyed two enemy ships and as a result, the remaining human warship was disengaging from the system. Perhaps Devotion was correct after all. Perhaps they were invincible…

"What are you waiting for ship master! After them!"

Or not…

"Something's wrong…" 'Tikawomee murmured, studying a holographic map of the battlefront. "This doesn't look like standard disengagement…"

"What?" Devotion asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Look here," said 'Tikawomee, gesturing at the diagram. "The capital ship...it's looping around the planet."

"So? They probably want to slingshot around the planet to gain extra momentum."

"Perhaps," 'Tikawomee murmured. "But this isn't a standard disengagement maneuver. Their FTL technology should allow them to simply flee and use it as soon as they have enough power to. What's to be gained by extra velocity in real space when they could enter the slipstream in the same amount of time? It's as if…as if…"

"It means nothing!" Devotion thundered, interrupting the sangheili's train of thought. "I'm not interested in human retreat maneuvers! All I'm interested in is how many you can kill before they flee the system!"

'Tikawomee sighed, seeing that any attempt to make Devotion see the virtue of caution was a lost cause. With much regret, he ordered the ship to close in on the immobile space station. They could finish it off at close quarters with minimal effort and then head planetside. The capital ship would escape before they could do any lasting damage. It was no longer an issue.

At least he wasn't until he heard and felt the first impacts on the ship's hull.

Phoenix-class colony ship Haven

Status: Engaged with CCS-class battlecruiser

Ulysses was impressed.

It was a risk really, to undergo a non-standard 'disengagement'. The Covenant may have been brutal, but it certainly wasn't stupid. There was a strong chance that they would have seen through Sattler's bluff and turned around to meet him on Hope's night side. And even if they didn't, there was still the risk of them using their energy projector to destroy the Aeros from range rather than taking the time to close the distance. Still, despite the risk, it had paid off. As smart as they were, the aliens humanity faced were like rabid dogs, going out of their way to kill as many humans as possible. So if there was a fat, defenseless target like the Aeros presenting itself, chances were they'd go to deal with it in the absence of any other ships that could be targeted.

Which it had. And now, with the Haven's orbit of Hope complete and already alongside the battlecruiser, they were about to pay the price.

"Alright, we're at the target," said Sattler over the intercom. "Give 'em hell."

Instead of fire and brimstone, "hell" consisted of an opening salvo of over twenty-two deck guns firing at a target only a few hundred kilometers away-essentially point blank range at this point. And as strong as Covenant shields were, even they couldn't withstand such firepower. And while the Haven was receiving its own share of plasma and lasers, its superior tonnage was winning out in this case.

"Shields are down," declared Sattler, looking at the alien vessel's readout. "Release the Archers."

Once again, the close range worked to the Haven's advantage. Covenant laser weaponry could protect their ships from such missiles usually, almost to the point where some in FLEETCOM were calling for such "redundant" weaponry to be phased out altogether. But at such close range, the lasers couldn't possibly get them all. And as well over ninety percent of the missiles hit their target, ripping numerous holes in the battlecruiser's hull, this was a fact that was joyfully apparent.

"Won't be long now," Sattler murmured to himself as much as Ulysses, watching the CCS buckle under the barrage.

"Won't be long for what?" the AI asked.

"Won't be long until Hope gets a fireworks display," the admiral murmured. "The clouds may hide most of it, but-…"

"Sir, Covenant ship disengaging!"

"What!"

No answer came his way, as it wasn't needed. The tactical display answered Sattler's question for him, along with raising others…like why the hell the battlecruiser was heading for the planet below rather than following what appeared to be standard Covenant protocol and be destroyed or self-destruct rather than be captured.

"Ulysses, what's the likely site of impact?" Sattler asked.

"Calculating sir," the AI murmured. A few seconds passed. "Sir, the ship…it's…aiming for the lands around Settlement Zero-one. Seven miles north to be exact."

Now things made even less sense. It was one thing to attempt to crash land on a planet- cowardice, hope or some other alien motive could explain that. But to aim for an enemy settlement? That didn't make human or alien sense.

Unless they've got enough troops to overwhelm it, thought the captain to himself, imagining a tide of aliens descending upon the settlement. But what then? We still possess aerospace superiority. Or at least we do until…

Sattler blinked. One ship attacking a fleet of human vessels? At first he'd assumed it was typical alien aggression, but what if this was something more? What if more Covenant ships were on their way? And what if, having landed on the surface, the battlecruiser had established itself in a prime location to disrupt terrestrial operations while a fleet of their allies wrecked havoc in the skies above?

"Patch me through to the Aeros," Sattler murmured to Ulysses.

"Will do sir."

With the AI giving orders and following pre-set protocols, the captain picked up a headset and walked out of the bridge. He had a headache coming on, and the sounds of crewman going about their business wasn't going to do him any favors. Finally, he patched through.

"Yes?" came a voice, one that Sattler recognized as belonging to Dr. Harwood. Or at least he supposed it belonged to her. Her tone sounded more…strained than from what he could recall. Meh. Maybe the lab monkeys had gone bananas or something.

"Ah, the good doctor," said the captain, deciding to take on a lighter tone before he took on a darker, more realistic one. "How's things?"

"I'm not a good doctor admiral. Get to the point."

Sattler raised an eyebrow. Since when did ONI arseheads get to the point of anything? Most of the time they avoided the point altogether, refused to even touch on the subject altogether or, on the rare occasion that they did get to the point, made it incomprehensible.

"The point eh?" Sattler asked. "My point, ma'am, is that we've had a Covenant battlecruiser attack us and-…"

"I'm aware of that captain. Nice job in downing the ship by the way, but so far, you've only stated the obvious."

Sattler raised an eyebrow. For someone who spent her time surrounded by computers 24/7, detached from reality's more brutal aspects (or reality itself considering the nature of the war against the Covenant), Harwood was dealing with reality quite well. Sattler's respect for the ONI arsehead went up a few notches…or at least would have done if not for the cloak and dagger ODST deployment this morning.

"Look ma'am, I'm only following protocol," the captain protested. "I don't like it, but ONI is in charge of all operations here." Sattler gave a mental blanch at the thought but managed to continue. "As such, I need to get your approval for planetary evacuation and reinforcements."

Harwood was silent for a few seconds. "Alright," she said. "I'll make a request for evac. The Aeros has far more efficient slipspace packages anyway. In the meantime, we-…"

"And reinforcements," Sattler interrupted. "Not just an evacuation. We need more ships and we need them now."

Harwood once again fell silent. "No," she said eventually. "No reinforcements."

"What! Are you insane? We're-…"

"Fighting a war for our very survival," Harwood interrupted. "Cole's fleet is the only thing keeping the Outer Colonies remotely safe and he's got better things to do than waste time on a single Covenant battlecruiser that can't even fight."

"Damnit Harwood, the Covenant knows we're here!" Sattler shouted, his headache worse and his stride having ground to a halt. "That battlecruiser's still active and is on the surface of a human world! It's only a matter of time before more alien bastards show up and we won't have the numbers to stop them!" He managed to compose himself slightly. "Besides," he added slyly. "A Covenant ship is down there, ready for the taking and…Harwood? Harwood!"

No answer. The good doctor had either signed off or wasn't listening.

"Damnit Harwood, answer me!" Sattler yelled, drawing the transceiver close. There's a Covenant ship down there that wants dealing with! First there's the ODST deployment, now this! What aren't you telling me! Harwood! Damnit you ONI arsehead, pick up the line!"

No answer.

"Harwood, pick up before I-…"

"Give it up sir."

Sattler recoiled, nearly falling over a hover dolly as a result. "Ulysses? Have you been listening in?"

"Only for the last few seconds," the AI chuckled. "Honestly sir, if Harwood had raised her voice too you'd have sounded like an old married couple."

Sattler suppressed a shudder at the thought. "Can you blame me Ulysses? We're in the dark and that blonde bitch isn't making things any easier."

"Well sir, chucking a spaz doesn't do a long distance relationship any-…"

"Don't jump to assumptions Odysseus," Sattler snarled. "I'm half tempted to…" he trailed off.

"Don't even think about it," said Ulysses. "If you want to think about something, you can think about this interesting discovery I made."

"Discovery?" asked Sattler. "What discovery?"

"A discovery in stellar phenomena," said Ulysses smugly. "I've sent it to your PDA. Check it"

Sattler did so…and smiled.

"Things might work after all," he murmured.

"Sir, I know what you're thinking," said Ulysses firmly, not liking where this was going and frustrated that Sattler couldn't share the wonder he felt (and perhaps more given the greater range of human emotions) at his discovery. "And staging a coup d'état isn't going to do any good."

"No, I'm not thinking that," lied Sattler, or at least lied in that he was fantasizing about such an act. "I'm actually thinking about how many coded slipspace packages we can send out without Harwood noticing. Any ideas?"

Ulysses sighed. "Sir, why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Because you hate cloak and dagger stuff," Sattler grunted. "And before you get any ideas, you piece of computer coding, let me tell you that I don't give a damn. Now answer my question before I…" He trailed off. How did one threaten an AI anyway?

Ulysses sighed. "Smooth, sir. Real smooth."

"Arse."

It was a pithy comeback, but right now Justin Sattler didn't care. All he did care about was that there was a Covenant ship on the surface of a human world and as a result, there were only two outcomes. Either the aliens would arrive in force and do to Hope what they did to every other UEG world over the last nine years or that ship could be captured and turn the tide of this war. Either way, the captain would need more men to do it and if sending out encrypted (in case of alien discover) messages to any other UNSC ships that might be nearby was the only way to do it, evading the Aeros's detection abilities, then so be it.

Funny how middle grounds never seemed to present themselves these days.

On the seas of slipspace, the bottles were sent.

Slipstream space, Shaw-Fujikawa space, subspace, the Void…in the end, the names didn't matter. All that mattered was that this seven-dimensional realm allowed for travel between the stars, jumping through darkness to reach creation's light. Or, if need be, send messages between those who dwelt in such light.

On the sea between stars, there were currents. And like the currents of any sea, these currents interacted with each other. Different speeds, different directions, alternating at random. How and why was a mystery to those who had sent their messages to the river of the stars. And what was even greater of a mystery was why these currents were moving faster than anything that had ever been observed.

And considering the distinctly un-human reason for the flash flood of slipspace permeating the Chi Mu System, perhaps that was not all that surprising…

A/N

(2011-08-05)

Corrected grammar errors.