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Halo: Shadows of Hope

Chapter 11: Into the Darkness

CCS-class battlecruiser Divine Crusader

Location: Seven miles north of human settlement, upper canyon wall near Forerunner relic

Status: Inoperable

"'Tikawomee! A word! Now!"

Standing on the bridge of his ruined ship, Udo 'Tikawomee let out a growl, inadvertently sending a huragok floating off in the opposite direction. He knew this was coming. Indeed, it was miraculous that it hadn't happened sooner. But now the moment had come and the sangheili had alienated a fellow member of the Covenant. Huragok knew what it was like to be at an individual's beck and call. And in circumstances the shipmaster was coming to despise, 'Tikawomee was as well.

"Devotion…" said the sangheili slowly, turning around to face the Prophet with as little momentum as possible. "How have I earned the honor of your presence?"

"Incurred would be a better word, shipmaster," the Prophet snarled, waving a bony hand towards every other individual on the bridge to get them to leave. "At this point in time, I would hardly say you've earned anything."

"How tragic…"

Devotion didn't answer at first. Maybe he wanted to wait for the bridge to be cleared out before continuing his tirade. That might have been a good sign, all things considered, knowing that a commander shouldn't be criticized in front of those under his command. On the other hand, it might demonstrate a need for privacy and confidentiality-two things that the sangheili was hardly in the mood for. Either way, he was willing to allow the san 'shyuum to make the next verbal spar. He fought wars with weapons rather than words, but there was a first time for everything.

"Tell me 'Tikawomee…" said the Prophet eventually. "What happened nine years ago?"

The sangheili blinked, but quickly regained his composure. "A war began, my lord. A war that still continues." A war I'd like to get on with, thank you very much.

"Yes, a war began," continued the Prophet, his mind clearly in the past, as if longing for bygone days. "A war in which we have always maintained the upper hand. A war that progresses in our favor. A war that, on this human-infested world, appears to have encountered a snag."

"My lord, defeat here is not the only one the Covenant has-…"

"Spare me your excuses 'Tikawomee! We learn from our mistakes, not make them again! We don't suffer defeat! Not now! Not ever again!"

And there it was. The first blow.

A few cycles ago, 'Tikawomee might have simply bowed down to the tongue lashing, accepting that it was within a san 'shyuum's right to criticize their partners of the homogeny they operated in. Now though, things had changed. He'd gone from leading a simple exploration ship to one stranded on a human world. And it was all thanks to the Prophet in front of him that this was the case.

"You're referring to Andra 'Serafomee and his forces…" said the shipmaster slowly, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down upon his master. "Referring to how he has failed to report in."

"He's failed to report in because he's dead!" Devotion yelled, unfazed by the height difference. "Our surviving Banshee pilots made that abundantly clear! There was one settlement of those vermin we had to deal with. One. And somehow, it's still there!"

"And you're blaming me for that?" asked 'Tikawomee calmly, not willing to back down this time. "I merely sent out 'Serafomee to perform a task. A task that you personally ordered carried out, against my inclinations. A task over which I had no control. And since I'm just as well informed as you are, it would have worked if our two flanking forces had shown up to the battle."

"Ah yes, the wayward sons. I don't suppose you've made contact with them yet?"

"No, holy Prophet."

An uneasy silence fell over the bridge and the lack of any other stimuli made the sangheili uneasy. As irritated as he was at Devotion, he at least remembered the Writ of Union. He wasn't to question the san 'shyuum, at least on general principle. But with the Prophet insisting on breaching his territory in the greater scheme of things, 'Tikawomee had resolved to mark it.

"'Tikawomee, I don't need to tell you that we're both in dangerous territory here," said Devotion immediately, turning away from the shipmaster to a communications console. "As far as I'm concerned, you're still at fault, and no amount of kowtowing will change that."

Kowtowing? Why you stuck up-…

"I however, have taken the initiative," continued the san 'shyuum, his bony fingers running over the panel's keys in a manner that reminded the sangheili of the grace of a huragok. "And unlike your failed warriors, I shall make contact with them."

"Contact?" 'Tikawomee asked, swallowing the insult made towards his fellow sangheili. "Contact with who?"

"A file of sangheili I sent into the relic not too long ago. A file who will be making a report to us. A file who-…"

"A file that falls under my command!" 'Tikawomee shouted, unable to believe what he was hearing. He strode over to the console, leaning on it so that he could bring his gaze down to the Prophet's level. "Damnit Devotion! You jumped the gun in the assault on the human settlement and you've jumped the gun on-…"

"Actually, I did both at the same time. Prero 'Cleraomee is much more enthused about the tasks given to him than you are shipmaster. Perhaps you could learn something from him."

I've learnt enough, 'Tikawomee thought bitterly. I've learnt how malleable some of my fellows can be.

There had been too many mistakes on this mission. Errors of trust were among them. Still, as Devotion found the right frequency for the file he had sent, 'Tikawomee decided to rectify one of them. 'Cleraomee was already in the relic, but by the three suns, he'd damn well explain why.

"Major Domo 'Cleraomee," said Devotion. "I request an update of your status."

No update came. Well, there was the hiss of static, but 'Tikawomee had never heard of any culture which responded with that.

"Major domo, I repeat, this is the Prophet of Devotion," the san 'shyuum repeated. "I request an update of your status!"

'Tikawomee remained silent. There was no reason to assume that Devotion had the wrong frequency. Nor was there any reason to assume that there was interference. So what had caused the file to go quiet?

"Major domo, I repeat, this is Devotion! What is your status?"

There was no answer.

And looking at each other uneasily, neither sangheili nor san 'shyuum could provide one either.

Chi Mu System, 31st Marine Division Command Center

Planet Hope

Major Howard was old.

Not "too old for this job." Not old from seeing and experiencing too much. Not old as in antiquated. No. In the end, he was just old. And after nine years of returning to service, the marine CO knew it. Because as fascinating as the boy's story was, an account of an alien artifact that had unearthed itself two days ago, the major could barely stay awake. One hand was rest on a head covered by thin gray hair and the other doing absolutely nothing.

"And then Tara and I…um, major?"

"Hmm?" Howard asked, snapping to attention as if a student in primary school that had been caught out by the teacher.

"Um…nothing," said the youth awkwardly. "Just…well, nothing."

Howard grimaced. The boy was polite, but he couldn't hide the fact that he'd wondered whether the marine commander had been listening to him. And in all fairness, it was a reasonable query.

I'm getting too old for this…

Apparently Howard was old in the cliché sense as well.

Listening to the boy's story, the major wondered why he'd returned to the service nine years ago. Some might call it admirable loyalty to the UNSC, but the notion of a hostile alien species being the incentive made him uneasy. Had he relished the thought of fighting aliens rather than fellow humans? If so, it had certainly come back to bite him in the balls, both on Harvest and now on Hope. He'd lost command of his men in yesterday's battle and if it hadn't been for the timely arrival of the Wild Endeavour, he might have lost it. Sattler's impression of him had clearly gone down a few notches and quite frankly, Howard couldn't blame him.

"So after our vehicle was wrecked, we slogged back to Thunderville," said the boy. "And after that…well, the rest is history."

Howard nodded. "Yes…history."

History was bunk, according to someone whose name escaped the major. Relieving yesterday's events in his mind, Howard had to disagree.

"So…" asked the boy. "What now?"

"Now?" the major asked. "Now you can go I guess."

Glancing uneasily at the major and the other individuals in his office, the local quickly obliged.

Lying back in his chair and fighting the urge to close his eyes, Howard didn't regret not being too harsh on him. If he'd been in the same position, suddenly confronted by an alien artifact, there was a strong chance he'd remain silent too. A decade ago it would probably be regarded as a hoax and even now, there was much to be done in Section 2 of ONI to separate fact from fiction in regards to the Covenant (or rather inserting more favorable fiction). There was a strong chance the device might have lured the Covenant to this world, given the beam of light and what it might entail, but even if the boy had informed someone, there was only so much that could have been done to prepare Thunderville for what was to come. And the outcome would have likely been the same regardless.

Especially so since someone else might have known about it…

"Right," declared the major, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get his circulation going. "Sergeant Jefferson, step forward."

Apart from Howard and the group called Green Team, the ODST was now the only other person in the room. And clad in his ballistic armor minus the helmet, he certainly stood out, what with his curly hair and eyes that weren't those of a soldier's. Yet somehow, he was the only survivor of a team sent from the Aeros, and had also survived the same ordeal that all but two members of Romeo Reconnaissance Team had fallen to. It was those two members that had brought the ODST to Howard's attention and in light of what he'd heard from the miner, maybe that was just as well.

"So, sergeant," began the major. "I see that you've recuperated from yesterday's experience."

"Yes sir. I have."

"Indeed. And while we're on the subject, let me thank you for getting my boys back home safely."

"Thank you sir," said the man awkwardly, clearly not used to receiving praise. "Just doing my job."

"Which is what, exactly?"

There was it. The punch line. And David Jefferson clearly had no idea how to deal with it.

"Sergeant, from what I've heard from privates Hawkins and Chambers, you weren't exactly most forthcoming," continued Howard, finding himself energy as a talker that had been lacking as a listener. "You were equipped with an unknown type of weapon and had been dispatched north of Thunderville for a purpose you were unwilling to divulge. A dispatchment that I might add I'm not totally ignorant of, what with your team using Warthogs instead of HEVs. And added to all this is the Covenant and the presence of an alien artifact. So, after all that's happened, considering Thunderville and my pay grade, I think you should be forthcoming."

Jefferson remained silent, though did take the time to glance at the five Spartan-IIs that were present. Howard had brought them here in the belief that they should know whatever went down, but he had to admit, their use as status symbols was helpful as well. Remaining silent in front of privates was one thing, but remaining silent of a CO and super soldiers was another. It was only a matter of time until Jefferson cracked. ODST or not, he defiantly didn't strike Howard as soldier material. If anything, he was an enigma.

That was the last thing Hope needed.

"I guess there's nothing for it," said the ODST eventually. "I'll tell you what I know-…"

Finally…

"…which isn't much."

…damnit.

Frustration aside, that didn't surprise Howard overmuch. Secrets had been kept from the start of this war, beginning with Harvest and lasting until Second Base in regards to keeping the existence of the Covenant secret. Not that this had stopped fools such as himself from charging in. And while Jefferson didn't strike the marine as a fool, he still had the unmistakable air of naiveté around him.

"We were dispatched to retrieve something that had launched from the Aeros," the ODST began. "Something I'm guessing wasn't meant to have left the ship."

"And why's that?"

"Because they don't send Helljumpers on retrieval," said the sergeant darkly…more darkly than Howard thought was warranted. "Certainly don't arm them at least and refer to the target as…well, a target. And there was the issue of going in by ground rather than air. Something to do with subtlety…"

Howard remained silent, trying to get the measure of the man before him. The ODST didn't seem to be trying to deceive him…at least not in the conventional sense. This resentment, seemingly towards his own unit…it was rare, to say the least.

"The target you were meant to retrieve," said the major eventually. "What do you know about it?"

"Not much. Only that it was designated SK-018."

One of the Spartan-IIs stirred slightly at the mention of this, but Howard barely noticed. All five of the visored behemoths looked the same to him and unlike Jefferson, were completely unreadable. This wasn't an interrogation, but the marine would still follow the modus operandi for such a thing and keep focused on the subject.

"The weapons for your task…" said Howard eventually. "EC-55s or something…"

"Yes, that's correct sir," answered the ODST. "That's their name, and since you know it, I'm guessing the ground pounders told you what they do as well. Why we're carrying around electric guns however is something that even I don't know."

That doesn't surprise me…

Howard was irritated, but as he rubbed his forehead to stave off an incoming headache, he wasn't sure who at. Jefferson was an enigma, but the major could tell that he'd said all he knew and that his lack of information was the will of the powers that were. Unfortunately, knowing that Harwood was the said power, there was the realization that she wouldn't be any more forthcoming.

"That's all sergeant," said the marine eventually, lying back in his chair and letting his fingers run through its interior padding (so much for a stitch in time). "You're dismissed."

Jefferson saluted, but Howard didn't notice. He was too tired to care about such things.

Option one's no good, the ODST said everything he knew. Option two involves talking to Harwood, and that's equally useless. So what about option three?

"Option three," its name originating from 3.5 seconds in the past, had yet to really take hold in the major's mind. Out of everything the sergeant had told him, from "lightning guns" to Helljumpers not actually jumping at all, only two things matched up-the drop pod and the artifact. The miner had seen the pod come down, and minutes later, saw something else come up. It might have been coincidence and indeed, if the pod was meant to unearth an alien relic, why send armed soldiers to retrieve it? Nevertheless, Howard was becoming more and more sure that the two were related. And at the least, with Tunderville having barely survived a Covenant assault, he wanted to get some answers before the next one came. Which it would. Of that he had no doubt.

"Green Leader," said the marine eventually. "Please step forward."

With silence Howard hadn't thought possible, the Spartan-II did.

Spartans…good thing I'm not from Athens, thought the marine, looking up at the armored behemoth that, until yesterday, he wasn't sure really existed. He didn't even know their names and calling for "Green Leader" had been dictated by the fact that they all looked alike. These super soldiers were as much a mystery as the actions on the Aeros. Difference was, after hearing tales of their actions on the battlefield, they were a mystery he was willing to overlook.

"Name please," said the major, looking up at the squad leader. "And rank."

"Joshua-029, petty officer second class."

Joshua-029? That's his name?

"Well, petty officer, I think it's fair to say that there are some questions that need answering. And after hearing about your exploits in saving my boys yesterday, you seem like the best bet in uncovering them."

"Thank you sir. I'll prep my team and-…"

"No. You won't."

Howard sat forward, resting his hands on the smooth wood of his desk. "This isn't a job for your team, petty officer. I understand that you work well as one, but all five of you are quite noticeable figures. I don't know if you've noticed, but every soldier and civilian in this settlement is looking up to you. All five of you disappear and…"

Howard trailed off, waiting for the petty officer to complete his sentence. He remained silent though, as did the rest of Green Team. Maybe they understood. Maybe they didn't question orders. Or maybe it was time to stop acting the role of drama king and give some proper orders.
"Green Leader, I want you to assign a member of your team to lead a force of marines to the artifact. The people will have their heroes here, while if need be, those in the field will have a hero as well."

"Yes sir. May I ask-…"

"I'll go."

After seeing the formality of…Joshua, after watching him play "strong and silent" in a manner most would deem unnatural, the interruption came as quite a surprise to the major. It came as a surprise to Green Leader as well, both CO and NCO watching one of the latter's number stride forward.

Wait a minute. Was that the one who stirred when Jefferson mentioned-…

"I'll go," the Spartan-II repeated. "You can trust me to-…"

"No Isaac, I can't," interrupted Green Leader, his gold visor mirroring his squadmate's own-unreadable and stoic. "You've become a loose cannon, and from what I've heard, coming down here hasn't helped. No, Green Three will go."

"Grace? She's hardly the most proficient in combat."

"Hopefully there won't be any."

Howard didn't know what to make of this. It wasn't good form for a squad leader to criticize his men in front of others. On the other hand, Green Leader was more decisive than his cool actions had implied. Well, almost. Because all five Spartan-IIs were now looking at him, expecting a decision. And the major knew it.

No turning back now, thought the major, feeling more uncomfortable than he should have. You started this. Now finish it…

"Green Three, you will lead a team into the relic. Leave as soon as you're ready."

Individual: SK-018

Location: Alien artefact

Status: Waiting

SK-018 was bored.

It was strange really. Through years of suspension, he knew what it was like for time to slow down, to be in a trickle rather than a rapid. Yet here he was, pacing around the relic's control room like a caged animal, waiting for escape to be delivered rather than achieved. He'd achieved his first escape to be sure, but now, events were beyond his control. All he could do was wait, pace-...

"Oh Reclaimer, you can't imagine how intriguing this is."

...and wish the Monitor would shut up.

Right now, Zealous Enigma certainly wasn't a mystery anymore and he certainly wasn't being zealous about anything. Well, if flying around and chatting like a hyperactive space squirrel was part of its job description, then it was doing it perfectly, but somehow, the Reclaimer doubted this was the case. Its job was to guard this artefact and for whatever reason, serve humans that entered it while making disparaging comments on "interlopers." But with the Covenant dealt with in the short term, and the UNSC likely unaware that this place even existed, Enigma was apparently taking a day off.

How typical. Weird alien race makes an advanced AI and doesn't even work in an off switch.

The charging up process was slow. Too slow. And having done everything in his power to actually get it started, the only thing Enigma was good for right now was a game of gravball. Still, that required at least two players and somehow SK-018 doubted that anyone else would be turning up. Or at least he hoped so. While the Covenant and UNSC were still likely at each other's throats in some capacity, the team he'd disposed of yesterday was unlikely to have been forgotten by the aliens. Once this device had finished powering up, it would all be a moot point, but until then...well, suffice to say, "then" was a long way off. And yakking on about some parasitical lifeform, Enigma was sending "then" in the opposite direction of "soon."

"My creators, after much consideration-..."

Shut up shut up shut up!

The human knew the story of this place from both the Monitor and alien's log on the Covenant ship. He'd even accepted it. So all in all, Enigma was doing nothing but telling him what he already knew. Still, as long as the Monitor thought he was something else, as long as this facility continued the charging process, he'd have to remain quiet. It had taken great willpower not to ask how long it would take for this place to charge up, almost as much as to not simply shut Enigma up and be done with it. Eye spy was useless, with the chamber being nothing but gray, gray and more gray. So in the end, all that was left to do but-...

"Reclaimer? Were you expecting company?"

...no.

Remaining silent, the human glanced back at the Monitor, now staring at him with what he supposed was a perplexed expression. Not that the floating light bulb gave much away. Taking a cue from that, SK-018 tried to remain as passive as possible.

"No, I'm not. Why?"

"Oh...well, there's a primitive vehicle approaching this structure. It's bearing fellow Reclaimers onboard."

The Reclaimer's heart skipped a beat...or would have done if his metallic components allowed such a thing. Humans. Actual humans were bearing down on him, an encapsulated...being. This couldn't get any worse.

"Show me," said the Reclaimer hoarsely. "Show me the vehicle."

As the image projected from Enigma's blue eye took form, the human recognised the single vehicle displayed as a Cougar-an AFV that could double as a troop transport.

Great. Now I've got both sides breathing down my neck.

One Cougar alone didn't represent much of a threat-the bodies of the Elites were testament to that. Still, SK-018 was well aware of the implications-that at best the UNSC forces on this planet had the breathing room to investigate this relic, or at worst, the breathing room to resume their hunt for him. How much they knew was unknown, but either way, "then's" distance from "soon" was now becoming even more pressing. What with marines on the ground, a warship in the sky, and...

Maybe that's all I need.

SK-018 had helped the people of this planet a day ago. Now, watching the vehicle through Enigma's hologram while remembering one of the installation's functions the AI had mentioned in its rambling...

...Maybe he could get his species to do something for him in return.

31st Marine Division Command Center

"Green Three to home base. We've arrived at the relic, over."

"Status acknowledged Green Three. Move into relic. Keep in touch, out."

Nine years ago, John-117 had acknowledged that waiting was the hardest part of any operation. Nine years after such a statement was made, Joshua-029 knew that the truth of that statement hadn't diminished. And somehow, keeping in touch with Grace in the command center's communications room made the job even worse. Courtesy of helmet recorders, Green Leader could see everything that Grace and the marines could see, along with hearing it. And right now, he would have given anything to trade the senses of sight and sound for touch.

"Well?" came a sarcastic voice. "Are they there yet?"

"Yes Isaac, they are. Not shut it."

Clearly, Green 5 was as agitated as Josh was, though unlike the rest of Green Team, he was having trouble hiding it. More validation of the team leader's decision not to send Isaac with the squad rather than Grace. Bad enough that he'd drawn his weapon on a civilian, but now he was continuing to draw attention to himself in the communications room.

Well, to be fair, we all are. But he doesn't have to exacerbate the status quo.

Joshua could understand Howard's reasoning, even if he didn't like it. But if he had to remain in Thunderville, to continue what was essentially the same waiting game that had begun on the Wild Endeavour, then at least he could keep in contact with Grace. Spartan-IIs worked in teams, and training had taught them that a little bit of teamwork was better than none at all.

"Nice place…" came the voice of a marine, his voice pattern coming up on the screen labeled Pvt. Hawkins. "Shame there's no welcome mat."

"Cut the chatter," said Grace, taking the words right out of Joshua's mouth. "We're here to gather intelligence, not sightsee."

"…aren't they one and the same?"

No-one answered on Grace's end, and Isaac managed to remain silent also. All in all, Josh wasn't surprised. He wasn't being given a very good view in a room seven miles from the alien artifact, but from what he could see via the video feed, it was a sight to behold. Smooth, gray, majestic…if the Covenant had come to Hope simply for the structure's aesthetics, Green Leader supposed he couldn't blame them. Yet if the miner was to be believed, it had at least one function. And humanity was going to find out what others it might have.

"Entering the structure," said Grace, the Spartan-II taking point as the squad entered the relic, their rifles' torches illuminating its gloomy interior. "We'll keep in-…"

Joshua supposed that Green 3 intended to end her sentence with "touch." But with all the screens suddenly displaying static, and his line of contact being cut off, she certainly wasn't keeping in touch. Nor was he.

"Green Three?" the Spartan-II asked. "What's your status, over?"

Isaac leant forward alongside his squad leader, Vinh and Anton drawing near too. As for the rest of the comm. center…well, Josh couldn't give a damn right now.

"Grace?" the Spartan-II repeated. "What's your status, over?"

There wasn't any response. Not from Grace or the ground pounders at least. Leaning closer than any other commando however, Vinh was another story.

"Looks like interference," she said, peering down at the console and fiddling with some buttons. "Try burst transmission. Maybe we can cut through it."

"Interference limited to a structure's interior?" Anton asked.

"Don't judge relics by our own standards, Green Two. It's simply asking for defeat."

Liking neither defeat nor being cut off from contact, Joshua took hold of the microphone again. "Green Three, this is Green Leader. I'm using burst transmission right now. If you can receive this, please respond in kind."

"Green Leader…Three…hear you…switching…transmission."

"It doesn't work," said Isaac bluntly. "Figures."

"Green Three, this is Green Leader," continued the Spartan-II, ignoring Green 5. I hear you barely. Keep in voice contact, your visual feed is still down."

"…wilco."

No plan survived contact with the enemy. This one hadn't even survived contact with an asset.

"The interior…ancient…elegant…" continued Grace, Green Team hanging on her every word with trepidation that was masked to all but themselves. "Bit…down…weathered…sections of…collapsed."

"Sounds like it's in bad shape," murmured Vinh. "How long has it been here?"

"Longer than we have, that's for sure," answered Anton. "Covies were studying us before first contact was made, who knows how long they've been able to travel through space."

"But why leave a relic here?" Vinh asked. "If it's useful, why abandon it? And if it isn't, why come back for it?"

Joshua remained silent. He didn't have an answer for Vinh and right now, he was more interested in receiving information than giving it. Grace and the marines could provide a detailed account once they returned to Thunderville, but Major Howard wanted a report ASAP. So as soon as this recon was done, the Spartan-II would report to him and hopefully end up back in the field in the process.

"…place…creeps," came the voice of a jarhead. "…really…"

"Form up! Covies!"

What? What on-…

"…down soldier…dead."

"Grace?" Joshua asked. "What have you got for me?"

"…venant bodies," answered Green Three. "Elites. About…of them."

"Covenant?" Josh asked. "Someone beat you to the kill?"

"…to say. I…wait…wait!"

Joshua didn't know whether Grace was talking to him or to the marines under her command. In a way, it didn't matter. All that did matter was that the sound of gunfire was being transmitted.

Grace? Grace!

The NCO didn't know that everyone else in the comm. room was crowding around. If he had, he wouldn't have cared either.

"Contact! Contact!"

"…bad dream!"

"Fire! Fi…it…"

"Green Three, respond!" Joshua yelled, all thoughts of composure forgotten. "What's your status!"

"…bullets…nothing!"

"Oh God…me!"

It was strange really, how for all the fragmented exclamations, the sound of gunfire rang out crystal clear. Gunfire that was entirely from MA5Bs, without any from that of plasma weapons. Something, or someone, was killing the jarheads and given the rapid diminishment in exclamations and gunfire, was exceptionally efficient at it as well.

Grace didn't call out though. Maybe she…

Maybe nothing. She was a Spartan-II, and well above letting fear get to her. Or maybe, she had been the first one to go down.

"Please…please!"

And then, with a sickening crack concluding the symphony of death and destruction, it was over.

At first, Joshua said nothing. Nor did anyone else in the room for that matter. For the first time in nine years, he didn't know what to do. Silence on Grace's end, an enemy to both humans and Covenant…for the first time in his life, he didn't know who he was meant to fight, or how to even do so. And if it wasn't for the source of the words that came down the line, he might have welcomed them. Anything was better than the suffocating silence descending around him, his armor feeling like a tomb…

"Send a message to your masters," rasped the voice. "Their destruction is by my will…and I am its own instrument."

…well, almost anything.

"Who is this?" Vinh asked into the microphone. "Identify yourself!"

Unsurprisingly, no response came. And no less unexpectedly, no-one else had anything to say.

"Those words…" Anton whispered. "I remember them…"

Who doesn't? Joshua wondered, remembering exactly what Green 2 was. The words that the Covenant had uttered nearly a decade ago, the words that every human being in the galaxy was familiar with. Words that…

They weren't the same. Similar, but different.

Psychological warfare…and unlike receiving the address on Reach, it was working.

Well, we'll see how long that lasts.

"Alright," said the petty officer slowly, turning to face those assembled before him. "Vinh, start prepping our squad. Anton, you-…"

"Wait a minute," came the voice of one of the comm. operators. "You're moving out? Without clearing it with major-…"

"Howard sent one of my men alone, and now I've lost contact," interrupted Green Leader, feeling as much irritation with the spineless runt as he did with Howard right now. "Like it or not, I'm bringing everyone I can back here and-…"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Anton. "Where's Isaac?"

"…what?"

Scanning the room with a glance, Joshua's irritation transformed into outright rage. Green Five was nowhere to be seen.

"Isaac?" the NCO asked, activating his suit's own radio. "Isaac!"

Unbelievable. Grace, and then marines were MIA and Green Five had taken it upon himself to have the same acronym applied to him as well. And turning back to Vinh and Anton, wondering how on earth the Spartan-II could have slipped away unnoticed, Joshua was finding it very hard not to change that status to KIA.

"Well?" Anton asked. "What now?"

Green Leader remained silent. Right now, he didn't know.

And all the while, the voice repeated itself in his mind…

"Send a message to your masters. Their destruction is by my will…and I am its own instrument."

United Nations Space Command Priority Transmission (classified designation)

Encryption Code: Black

Public Key: file/excised access Omega

From: Dr. Mina Harwood, Office of Naval Intelligence Section 3 (civilian identification number classified)

To: Codename: KEANCROS

Subject: Update

Classification: RESTRICTED (BGX Directive)

/start file/

I have to be brief here, so I'll get to the point. Things have gone to hell here on Hope. The defensive forces were attacked by the Covenant yesterday and it was only from the arrival of a UNSC frigate that the people planetside are still alive. No, I didn't ask for it. I'm still waiting for a response from you. I want confirmation that the ships from Venatir are on their way. I also want permission to break confidentiality on Project: Spectre and call reinforcements. They're here anyway thanks to Sattler and he's of the right mind. Until you respond though, I have to act differently.

Respond ASAP, spook. People are dying. And at least part of that is due to what we started.

/end file/

Keancros was close to Hope. But only the planet. The emotion had been well and truly cut out three years ago, if not earlier. Harwood however, still clung onto it. Both planet and emotion. And both were truly screwed.

Keancros would know. He was closer to the planet than anyone imagined…

It was almost amusing really. For all her credentials, Harwood was still nothing more than a dumb blonde who was unable to grasp the larger picture. Well, let her ramble on. Confidentiality was compromised long before the frigate turned up. In a sense, it was compromised from the start. Not that Harwood could grasp it. Hopefully she never would.

It mattered little though. The subject had made first contact.

Now all that was left to be done was watch and wait.

A/N

Update (04/09/2011): Corrected SK-017 typos-all are meant to be SK-018.

Update (08/05/2011): Corrected spelling error.