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Halo: Shadows of Hope

Chapter 12: Shadow of the Past

M12 LRV Warthog

Driver: Petty Officer Second Class Isaac-039

Location: Plains north of Settlement 01 ("Thunderville")

There was an old saying that pertained to being off the rock, through the bush and finding nothing but jackal. Right now, driving north in a commandeered Warthog, Isaac was glad that the metaphor wasn't being applied to him. For starters, there was no rock here, just dirt. In light of yesterday's rain, that made it easy to trace the route made by the Cougar, its tracks visible in the muddy terrain. Terrain that wasn't covered by bush, hence invalidating the second part of the metaphor. And since jackals tended to be rather aggressive to humans in this day and age, the Spartan-II was glad not to find them. Well, to be fair, they probably wouldn't want to meet a genetically enhanced super-soldier either, but even so…

Focus Isaac. Just focus.

Driving over a pothole that had been hidden by sediment, the NCO was finding it quite hard to focus right now, metaphors or no metaphors. It had been a spur of the moment thing really, heading out of the command center when the fighting started and the voice declared its ultimatum. After everything that had happened, what with abnormally fast frigates, shifty Helljumpers and alien relics, Isaac wasn't willing to wait for Joshua to follow protocol and get clearance from a major who thought that dividing Green Team was a good idea. His insubordination would cost him, but that was nothing to what idiocy might have cost Grace and the marines under her command. So, distracted as he was in regards to what was both behind and in front of him, Isaac pressed on. Pressed on even when he entered the valleys. Pressed on even when he knew that he could meet the same fate as Jefferson's squad. Pressed on even when he approached the base of the relic, its structure standing like a mast above the dustball ship of Hope, sailing its way around Chi Mu in a perpetual loop.

Somehow, it was the relic that made him the most uneasy.

Grace had described the relic as she'd approached and via the video feed, Isaac had managed to get a look at it. But looking at it now-smooth, gray, unblemished, standing like a silent sentinel over this lifeless world…well, it was eerie, to say the least. Covenant, insurrectionists…they were easy to understand. They were enemies. But this…thing, this…device, its function and, if it had any, allegiance unknown…well, that was something else. Something that Isaac wasn't sure how to handle.

Focus, soldier. Just move forward.

Repetition, but it still worked. Someone, or something was inside the relic. A being apparently hostile to both humans and Covenant. Something that wished Grace harm and would almost certainly wish Isaac harm as well. A comforting thought in a sense, given that unlike the relic, its occupant was a distinct enemy. And cradling his assault rifle in his hands, moving towards its entrance and the nearby Cougar, Isaac prepared to deal with it.

"Son…of a bitch…"

…And apparently something else.

Resting the rifle against his shoulder in a firing position, Isaac didn't need prompting to know that he wasn't alone out here. Someone was by the Cougar, on the opposite side of it. Someone who wasn't fighting fit given the sound of things. Still, that was no reason to let down his guard. So, approaching its far side by going around its rear, Isaac expected the worst.

With the individual drawing a pistol on him, he got it.

It happened fast…so fast that Isaac barely even knew that it, whatever it was, had happened. Kind of like when he first wore the MJOLNIR Mk. IV, when he and the rest of his comrades could barely move with any subtlety. Either way, in less than a second, he found himself staring down at a marine wielding a M6C sidearm minus its firing chamber. A firing chamber that was currently residing in Isaac's left hand while he held his rifle in the other. A simple disarming technique, one that had prevented the Spartan-II from being on the receiving end of a bullet.

"What the…?" the marine asked. "How did…how did…"

Dropping the firing chamber and using his spare hand to grab the jarhead by his neck, Isaac shut him up. After all that had happened, he wasn't in the mood for any bullshit. Not even from men who had a shoulder that was a bloody mess.

"Talk," snarled the NCO. "Now."

"I…I don't…"

The marine shut up. Being dropped on the ground tended to prompt a break in sentences.

"I don't have much time here," said Isaac, maintaining the upper hand. "I can tell that you're not the one who wiped out your team. I can also tell that you're wounded and that your name is Private Hawkins. However, unless you elaborate on what I know, I may have to start making assumptions. And if I start doing that…"

Isaac trailed off. It wasn't the most eloquent of threats, but years of dealing with Innies had taught him that seven feet tall super soldiers didn't need to be when it came to interrogation. Of course, this interrogation wouldn't end with the man (scratch that, kid) receiving a bullet between the eyes, but still, it seemed best to fall back into the same tactics.

Adaptable tactics would have to wait for when he entered the structure.

"You…you here to rescue me?" the kid asked.

"Maybe. But first I have to know if there's anyone else to rescue. And why, if there isn't, that you're the only one who does need rescuing."

Hawkins swallowed. He was pale and the lack of a helmet allowed his messy hair to stand out. Eventually he spoke.

"I…I don't know what happened…" the marine began. "I mean…we found some Covie bodies…Elites. Then…something attacked us."

"What did?" Isaac asked. He knew all of this already. It was only now that he was moving on to the important stuff.

"Something…humanoid," Hawkins rasped, clearly plagued by the memories. "It was fast…very fast. About as fast as you. We could barely hit it and when we did, bullets did nothing."

"Bullets don't do much against the Covenant either," murmured Isaac, not sure what to make of this. It sounded bad, but not overly worse than what he'd faced himself over the last nine years.

"Trust me man, it was no Covie. I got out, but…well, don't know whether the others did."

Exhaling as he leant back against the Cougar, Private Hawkins clearly didn't have anything else to say. His mind pounding as he processed the information, Isaac didn't have anything to say either.

The marine's account matched what the Spartan-II had heard back at the command center. Yet there were still holes in his account. He was wounded, sure, and a cauterized wound at that, but how had he escaped? Why him and not…well, Grace, for instance? Why was Hawkins still alive after an attack that had left his squad dead or incapacitated?

Then again, why would he lie? Unless he was somehow in contact with the assailant…

Well, if he was, then he probably would have tried to get out of the recon mission, considering that the marines didn't need to be guided to the slaughterhouse by a double agent. For now, Isaac would take the private at his word. And if he was lying…well, treating him like an Innie would sort that out.

"The Cougar…" said Isaac eventually. "Does it work?"

"Huh?" Hawkins asked, his eyes showing anything but comprehension.

"The Cougar," Isaac repeated. "Can you drive it?"

"I…I guess," the marine rasped. "Why?"

"Because if I'm not out of the relic in fifteen minutes, leave without me. Until then, stay here and keep silent. No radio contact."

Hawkins was clearly just as confused, not understanding that Isaac didn't want Josh or Howard to be yelling at him from a base seven miles away. They could sweat it out. Until then…well, for starters he could ask why Hawkins was drawing out a weapon from the back of the Cougar. The same type of weapon that Jefferson had described.

"An EC-55?" the Spartan-II asked. "Jefferson's?"

"No, we found more ODSTs on the way here," said Hawkins. "Well, at least their body parts. Their weapons though…"

Isaac remained silent for a few moments, then took the weapon in his hands. It was large, bulky and from what he'd heard of Romeo Team's skirmish, only good for a lightshow. Still, he strapped it to his back via its magnetic weapon strips. Better to have something and not need it, than need it yet not have it.

"Alright," said Isaac. "Stay here. I'll be back."

Entering the gloom of the relic, knowing that he'd be falling out of radio contact, Isaac couldn't help but slightly doubt that statement.

31st Marine Division Command Center

Joshua was angry.

That much, the Spartan knew. Why he was angry was something else, the reason being that he didn't know who he should be angry with. Howard or Isaac. Still, with the major being as stubborn as a grumpy gueta, most of his frustration was directed towards the former.

"Sir, it's a simple retrieval operation. In and out before-…"

"I said no!" Howard yelled, thumping down a fist on his desk. "Petty officer, I understand your-…"

"There's three of us sir. We can handle-…"

"I'm sure that's what your comrade thought," interrupted the major. "The same Spartan-II who we've lost contact and we have every right to assume is deceased."

Spartans never die, we just go missing in action, thought Joshua bitterly, fighting back the urge to say it and having a flash of those who actually had died. Sam, Daisy, likely Jerome, Douglas and Alice as well. Too many as far as he was concerned. And he'd be damned if he'd let Grace join their ranks under his watch. Oh, and Isaac for that matter.

Isaac…damnit, what's come over you?

Joshua didn't know. The entire star system reeked of what he'd smelt seventeen years ago. However, in that time, he'd gotten used to it and having passed through augmentation and not done a runner, Green 5 should have as well. Apparently though, such hopes were ill founded. And right now, the leader of Green Team suspected that this might have something to do with Howard's reluctance to send out a retrieval team.

"Son, I understand your reluctance to leave a fellow soldier behind," continued the major, the tone of his voice indicating he didn't understand the intensity of what the NCO was feeling at all. "But understand that even with the Wild Endeavour's resupplying, we only have so many vehicles and men to spare. And after hearing of your exploits yesterday, I can honestly say that the three of you are worth more than what we lost."

"But Isaac isn't lost," Vinh pointed out, reminding Joshua that she and Anton were indeed in the same room as him. "He may be missing, but-…"

"If he returns, I'll decide whether he deserves a medal or a reprimand," interrupted Howard. "Until then, Green Team is under orders to remain on station. The Covenant is still a threat, and as eerie as the relic and its…occupant are, the aliens are a larger threat. Now if there's anything else you'd like to add…"

"…no sir. No there isn't."

Joshua was almost ashamed of how his anger was fading. He disagreed with Howard's reasoning, just as much as he had disagreed that sending only one Spartan-II to the relic was an erroneous course of action. Still, in such uncertain times, all he could do now was follow orders. And looking at Vinh and Anton, standing by their leader silently, it was clear that it was all they could do as well.

Be safe Grace, thought Green Leader to himself. Be safe for all of us.

Sighing as he led his team back outside the command center, Joshua supposed he should wish the same for Isaac as well.

CCS-class battlecruiser Divine Crusader

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

Status: Inoperable

"Major Domo 'Cleraomee, this is the Prophet of Devotion! In the name of the gods, respond to this signal! I repeat, this is-…"

Both san 'shyuum and sangheili could be patient to a fault, but with long lifespans and a longer recorded history, it was the former species that could last longer. It was therefore perhaps not much of a surprise that Devotion was still trying to get in touch with the sangheili he had sent into the relic, still demanding a response that 'Tikawomee knew would never come. His people didn't choose to ignore their leaders, or if they did, they weren't worthy of the time and effort that Devotion was investing. As such, it was clear that in all likelihood, 'Cleraomee and his followers had departed this plane of existence. All that was left to do was for Devotion to accept that and allow 'Tikawomee to begin preparations for the process that would give the Divine Crusader time to remember them properly. Which, as the situation was, would mean much more waiting than the shipmaster was willing to invest.

"Major Domo, this is-…"

"My liege, leave it," interrupted 'Tikawomee. "It's no use. All that's left for us to do is-…"

"Be quiet you mud wasp!" the Prophet exclaimed, not even glancing around from the bridge's communicator. "Go do something useful rather than display your lack of faith!"

'Tikawomee's gaze narrowed, even if Devotion couldn't see it. Faith had nothing to do with this. And even if that were the case, the san 'shyuum was mixing up faith with duty. Often the two went hand in hand, but sometimes, a line had to be drawn. And the sangheili was increasingly feeling that the two commanders were on different sides of it.

"Major Domo, this is-…"

That's it…

"I take my leave," said 'Tikawomee. "Let me know if the gods decide to answer your prayers."

Devotion didn't even stop his rhetoric due to the shipmaster's interruption or even glance in his direction as the sangheili made his way to his personal quarters. That was just as well really. 'Tikawomee needed time to think, and although the Writ of Union left thinking to the san 'shyuum, it didn't totally prohibit the Covenant's backbone from doing so.

We are the arm of the Prophets, the sangheili thought to himself as he sat down at his personal console. But we can use our arms in other ways…

It was perhaps ironic that the shipmaster was about to do the same thing as Devotion, namely to contact his missing brothers. However, while the Prophet was fixated on a mere file, 'Tikawomee's thoughts were with an entire legion. Well, at least two thirds of it. 'Serafomee's main force had been wiped out, but that still left two thirds of his legion missing.

"To all remaining forces of the J'ma Legion, this is Shipmaster Udo 'Tikawomee," uttered the sangheili, hoping that the Forerunners would guide his voice in a manner they had failed to do with Devotion's. "To any of my brothers receiving this message, please respond immediately."

As rationality dictated, there was no answer. If those forces were able to get in touch with the Divine Crusader, they would have done so by now. Yet rationality also dictated that it should have been impossible for the humans to be the cause. They'd barely been able to hold off a frontal assault, let alone divert resources to deal with flanking forces. Yet why on Sanghelios were the legion's remnants not answering?

"To all remaining forces of the-…"

'Tikawomee trailed off. Unlike Devotion, his patience had its limits.

It was worth a try, the sangheili reasoned, however slim the chances of contact were. In the precarious situation the shipmaster found himself in, he'd need as many warriors as possible. The humans maintained space superiority and were in possession of both their settlement and, if 'Cleraomee's silence was anything to go by, the relic as well. In contrast, 'Tikawomee only had the remaining members of his crew onboard. And they'd been left out of the attack force for a reason, and not a necessarily positive one at that. And coupled with this, he was still subservient to a Prophet who either could not, or would not, see the bigger picture.

So maybe I should move on to the canvass then…

'Tikawomee knew he was embarking down a dangerous line of thought, possibly even a heretical one. Nevertheless, he'd planned for this moment, having anticipated it cycles ago. It was a moment that he'd hoped wouldn't come to pass. After all, he'd been tasked with searching for Forerunner relics and lo and behold, he'd actually found one. And if he succeeded in claiming it for the Covenant Empire, he'd be free to reap the glory of such a conquest.

On the other hand, he couldn't bathe in glory if he was dead. And though he'd rather die with honor than live without it, there was more to this than pride right now. Vermin were on this world, the same vermin who sought to torch every relic of the gods that they found. What good would dying do if it didn't safeguard the artifact? By the gods, the humans were probably already defiling the artifact right now. And simply put, 'Tikawomee didn't have enough warriors to stop them.

No more, thought the sangheili, feeling his blood boil at the idea of human feet within the relic. It stops. Right here, right now.

Returning to his console, he sent out a new message. A message that Devotion wouldn't approve of, but one that 'Tikawomee knew was absolutely necessary.

Whether the cloaked figure behind him knew that was another matter entirely…

Unidentified alien relic (interior)

A picture was apparently worth a thousand words. But despite having been robbed of pictures of the relic's interior back at Thunderville, the team sent into the structure had done a pretty good job of summing it up in much less than a thousand utterances. Doom and gloom aside, it was everything Isaac expected from a piece of ancient architecture. Its walls were weathered, chasms had opened up in the hallway…oh, and there was the issue that the walls were marked with bullet holes. Bullets no doubt fired by the once living individuals further up ahead.

So this is where it went down…the Spartan-II thought to himself, directing his rifle's flashlight towards the soldiers' bodies. Guess they didn't get very far.

Nor did the Elites for that matter, no doubt the same ones that Grace had mentioned earlier. And, like the bodies of the humans, they shared the same anomaly…

…no blood.

Well, maybe that wasn't much of an anomaly. Plasma had a way of cauterizing wounds and the Covenant could kill so quickly that many people were dead before they even got a chance to bleed. And there was also Hawkins, whose shoulder wound had been cauterized as well. And moving over towards the bodies, Isaac found they were no different. Human, alien, whatever the species, each had died the same way-a wound from a blade.

A rogue Covie? Isaac wondered, staring into the glassy eyes of an Elite who had a hole on both sides of its throat. An energy sword maybe?

That was possible, but that still didn't explain why there was only a single entry wound on each body whilst Covenant energy swords possessed two blades. Not that that precluded the use of another type of energy weapon, such as an energy cutlass. But to Isaac's knowledge, only Grunts and Jackals used them and somehow, he couldn't see a member of either species carrying out murder on this magnitude. Well, there was no use worrying about it. Not when Isaac had plenty to worry about in regards to not only the assailant, but also Grace. A Spartan whose body was notably absent.

Right now, Isaac didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. Especially since-…

"Honestly Reclaimer, this was completely uncalled for!"

…he was hearing computerized voices.

Rising to his feet and drawing his rifle forward, Isaac honed in on the sound. He wasn't completely sure where it had come from, but as the only way to go was either forward or down into the structure's depths, the first option was the only reasonable one. And, as the voices grew louder, evidently the correct one as well.

"Enigma, just fly off and shut-…"

"…a violation of protocol! This is a complete overreaction against your fellow Reclaimers!"

Reclaimers? What on Earth…

Isaac shook it off. He wasn't on Earth. He was on a world many light years from it, and was pretty sure that humanity's homeworld didn't have any alien relics lying in wait to be discovered.

"I dealt with the Covenant, didn't I? You didn't throw a hissy fit about them!"

"Interlopers are one thing. Authorized users are another!"

It was the first voice that was more interesting. Both individuals were speaking in English, given the lack of need for his MJOLNIR's translation software, but while the second was computerized, the first was a strange mix of organic and metallic vocals. Like…well, it was unlike anything Isaac had ever heard. Yet somehow, it felt familiar…

An impossibility, Green 5 reminded himself. Just keep moving…

That, he did. A bit slower than he would have cared for, but right now he didn't want to rush into things. Not when he could be running into an individual who had been able to take out a Covenant file and marine squad with a precision that Isaac had only seen his fellow commandos match.

"…the uses of this place are not a trifle! The last time this installation was used-…"

"This place only has one use! Or at least only one useful function. And since you've guided me to it, ask yourself what use you still have!"

"My use is ahhh!"

Isaac stopped short. He didn't know how it had happened, but he certainly knew what had happened. Whatever the species, whatever the circumstances, a sentence was only cut short like that for one reason…prevention of ever speaking again.

"Your use to me has expired…" the human-machine voice hissed, its composition sending a chill down the Spartan's spine. "Hopefully you'll prove to be more of an asset in the hereafter."

There was no response from the second speaker. From what he had just heard, and from what he was hearing now as a series of clanks reverberated throughout the structure, Isaac knew there never would be. And knowing that he may not get another chance to confront such a cold-blooded killer, he began to run. Past symbols, past pitfalls, past the sparks of light that shone through the relic's gloom.

Rounding a corner, he found what he sought. And in such a moment, the NCO did the only thing his mind would let him do-raise his rifle and shout "freeze!"

Watching the humanoid turn towards him, it was clear that it had worked.

Isaac was caught offguard, so didn't mention the humanoid tossing a small orb with a hole torn through it aside with his left hand while something retracted into the gauntlet of his right. His (he assumed it was a he) body was entirely covered in armor, that of a sleek, polished kind that the Spartan wouldn't have thought possible, given that armor went hand in hand with combat. The only exception was a thin red strip near where the eyes would be located on the average human. Most striking perhaps, were the wires. He couldn't get a good glimpse of them, given that the figure was facing them, but Isaac could see that they all led from the being's head and led into his spine. Kind of like a permanent state of augmentation…

Augmentation…don't think of that. Not now…

"Well?" the figure asked, capitalizing on Isaac's silence. "I'm frozen, as you so eloquently put it. Then again, it's actually a bit warm in here, so it could be awhile before I go before zero degrees. Or minus thirty-two if your masters decided to go back to Fahrenheit. I guess-…"

"Shut up!"

Psychological warfare…it was something Isaac had never trained in. Then again, he'd never really had to.

"SK-018…" said the Spartan-II slowly, assuming that this individual was the same one that Jefferson had mentioned. "By the authority of-…"

"What authority?" the being asked. "Yours? What authority does one of humanity's lapdogs possess?"

"The authority to apprehend you in relation to the deaths of-…"

"The Covenant? You're welcome…no…no, it can't be…"

Isaac wasn't sure where this conversation was headed. All in all, he wasn't even sure if this actually counted as a conversation. Regardless of how much disdain the being treated him with, the commando knew that he had the upper hand, given that unlike the assailant, he was actually armed. Yet now the being had gone from mockery to silence. The type of silence that could only be maintained by silent staring, the red strip glowing as figures scrolled across it.

A HUD? Is he scanning me?

"Petty Officer Second Class Isaac-039…" said the being slowly, his words coming out as soon as the glow faded. "It's been a long time…"

In an instant, a certain MA5B was gripped even tighter.

"Stand down…" said Isaac slowly, ignoring the being's mind games. "You have-…"

"Still loyal to a fault?" the being sneered. "Still being your masters' lapdog? Honestly Isaac, hasn't anything changed?"

"Stand down, or I'll-…"

"After all they did to you…you still point a gun away from them? And to think I-…"

"Stand down!"

"And to think that after Grace, I thought you might be different…"

This wasn't war. This wasn't even a battle. But it was certainly a psychological conflict and one that Isaac knew he was losing. But with the mention of Grace, he was willing to concede the advantage. It was tempting to open fire and let the gun's roar remove the one resonating in his mind, but he wanted to get information first.

"Grace?" the NCO asked. "Where is she?"

"What's it to you?" the being sneered, before beginning to chuckle that reminded Isaac of a scene in that zombie film he saw. "Tell me, does she still like explosives and calamari?"

This was getting out of hand. Not only was the being, this…SK-018 implying familiarity with Isaac, but he was implying…no, making clear that he possessed a level of familiarity of Grace as well. But how on Earth, or any other planet was that possible?

Isaac didn't know. Twenty-three years old, seventeen years of training and nothing he'd learnt had prepared him for this.

"You know, I think you can lower that," said the figure, gesturing towards Isaac's assault rifle. "I mean, I haven't actually hurt anybody."

"There's ten marines who might say otherwise."

It was hard to gauge the assailant's visual expressions. Actually, for all intents and purposes, it was impossible. Yet somehow, Isaac could see his eyes…his humanoid eyes narrowing at such a statement. His imagination maybe, but right now imagination was one of the last things keeping him sane.

"The groundpounders?" the figure snarled. "What about them? They're even worse than you. You never had a choice Isaac. They did. They volunteered. And humanity has no use for those who can't see the bigger picture."

"And you can see it?"

"More than those lambs to the slaughter could. Especially since-…"

Isaac snapped.

It was something that had never happened before in recent memory. But in one instant, one pure, horrible instant where rage was the only emotion itself, where fire was the only element within him, Isaac gave way. To hear this…psychopath imply familiarity, to listen to a comparison of human lives to livestock…well, there was only one thing he could do.

Open fire.

Time slowed within the relic. Bullets flew, cases fell and somehow, the figure moved faster than either of them. One moment, Isaac was a god of death. The next, he was on the end of the Grim Reaper's scythe. Pain surged through him as he was slammed against the relic's wall, the EC-55 detaching from his magnetic clamps due to the force of the blow. Fighting back the pain, subduing the rage, he waited for the next blow…

It never came.

"You're getting slower Isaac," the figure sneered, walking back to the same place he had once stood before defying the laws of organic physiology. "I thought it was just your mind that had been cast in chains, but it seems that your-…"

Pulling the trigger of the assault rifle, Isaac proved that his muscles were working just perfectly. The bullets, however, were another matter.

No…no…this isn't possible!
Isaac had seen bullets be absorbed by Covenant energy shields before, their users seemingly invincible. It therefore hadn't surprised him when he'd heard a marine exclaim that bullets were doing nothing in the recording, even if that wasn't necessarily true. Keep firing, and a Covie's shield would give way eventually. But here, in what was feeling like a dream, the bullets truly were doing nothing. Veering away from SK-018, they weren't even hitting him. And it wasn't until his magazine ran dry that Isaac was able to fully comprehend this.

The being was faster on the uptake however.

"What, is that it?" the assailant sneered. "Out of juice already?"

"How?" Isaac whispered. "How did-…"

"Localized electromagnetic field," the being sneered, tapping the chest of his armor. "Wasn't consulted on the physics behind it. Then again, I wasn't consulted on anything…"

Isaac had heard enough. Right now, he had seen enough as well. However, "enough" for a Spartan was different from what it meant for a normal human. So as tempting as it was to retreat, Isaac stood his ground. Even with his gun useless, he was still deadly. Hell, he was a weapon in himself. And drawing himself into a CQC stance, he intended to prove it.

Mimicking his position, so did his adversary for that matter…

"Excuse me, do you have a moment?"

The six year old looks up, brushing aside some auburn hair as she does so. The interruption has come as a surprise to her, and given that she's reaching a good point in her book, perhaps a little irritating. But Grace is a polite girl. So when she sees the woman before her, she falls into the rhetoric that every one of her classmates follows.

"Good morning," the girl says. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," says the woman pleasantly, smiling in a manner that…well, it has emotion at least. "I was wondering what book you were reading?"

"Er, well…"

Grace fidgets awkwardly, even more than the man standing on the other side of the schoolyard fence. There's two reasons she sits on the edge of the playground to read-one is that all her 'friends' tease her for reading in the first place, and the library is too obvious a spot. The second reason is that the book hasn't been borrowed through…correct channels. And while the woman before her doesn't look like a teacher, and is certainly too old to be a student, Grace still feels uneasy.

"You don't have to show me if you don't want to," says the woman pleasantly, still smiling as Oasis's sun beats down on her dark hair. "I was just-…"

"No, it's alright," says Grace suddenly, deciding that if she's going to get into trouble, she may as well get it over it. "It's The Secret Garden."

Grace hands the woman the novel, who glances at the cover with…approval? It's hard to gauge, but it makes the young girl feel at ease.

"Interesting. You like it?"

"Oh yes," says Grace enthusiastically. "It's beautiful. It shows that a strong mind can overcome all adversity. It's…well, it's…"

The woman laughs. "Don't worry Grace. I know what you mean. And to tell you the truth, I completely agree. A strong mind will succeed in the end."

Grace beams at this, at the chance to have an intelligent conversation rather than the latest brand in nail polish. Yet part of her mind prompts caution-the woman seems nice, but how did she know her name? And as mundane as the saying is, isn't she not meant to talk to strangers?

It's a valid line of thought. But it quickly evaporates once the coin is drawn out.

"Ohh, what's that?" Grace asks, barely able to contain her curiosity. Its silver reflects the sunlight, its dragon turning a shade of gold, along with its inscription.

"This?" asks the woman. "It's a pound sterling, a currency that no longer exists. It's also good for playing heads or tails."

"Heads or tails?" Grace asks, wondering if she's about to be shamed into not knowing how to play yet another game that everyone else in her year knows how to play. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's simple really. You see how this coin has two sides?" the woman asks, showing Grace its dragon on one side and its crowned lady on the other. "You pick which side you think the coin will land on if I toss it. If you win, you get to keep it."

It seems like a stupid game. But then again, it's not every day one gets the chance to get their hands on a relic of Earth, one dating back centuries going by the 2000 stamped on it. Grace nods. She'll play along.

"Alright," says the woman, resting the coin between her thumb and first finger. I'll toss, you call it."

Grace remains silent, her eyes on the prize.

The coin goes up…

The coin spins…

"Heads!"

It was a strange feeling, waking up so suddenly. All Spartan-IIs were perfectly capable of going without sleep for extended periods of time, and when they did sleep, it was often in cryo. Consequently, the phase of waking up was slow and steady. Yet here she'd been sleeping naturally, and strange dreams aside, had woken up naturally as well. Well, as natural as possible when you were in an alien relic and were lying face down on the floor despite returning to the waking world as loudly as possible.

Heads…Grace thought to herself groggily, ignoring the flashing displayed on her suit's HUD. I got heads…

In essence, she'd got it right. Why Halsey had ever bothered with flipping a coin was a mystery to her, but either way, she'd found herself on Reach about a month later, ready to live for a purpose. A purpose that still existed, hence why she couldn't afford to lie down and face the floor. So as painful as it was, Grace managed to slide up, coming to rest against a nearby wall.

4.4 seconds…should be able to get up faster than this.

It was a mundane line of thought. But it had kept her sane in the time it took to get to a more comfortable position. A position that allowed the NCO's mind to shift from the mundane to the supernatural.

The hostile…the marines…

It was all a blur really, what had happened…well, whenever it happened. All Grace knew was that suddenly she and the squad were under attack by a humanoid that moved incredibly fast, one that bullets seemed to have no effect on. It was an experience she was used to in principle, having seen Covenant energy shields in action numerous times, but…well, the thing wasn't Covenant. That much was clear.

It attacked…but how'd I end up down here though?

Looking around the chamber, Grace saw little superficial difference from what she'd seen beforehand. Grey walls, the signs of time, little light…In fact, the only source of light was from above. An above that featured a huge gaping hole in the roof. A hole that Grace remembered falling down, after she blocked the assailant's blow.

Must have been at least one-hundred meters. If it wasn't for the armor…

The Spartan-II cut off that train of thought. No need to remind herself on the possibility of meeting an end that had already come to too many of her brothers and sisters for her liking. An end that had almost certainly taken the strike team as well.

The marines…should I contact them?

Probably not. The assailant was almost certainly still active, and Grace was in its territory. And in such a situation, drawing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted. If she managed to exit the relic, she could try contacting Thunderville, but for now, remaining discreet was the best course of action. That, and trying to find a way out of here.

Best get to it then.

Grace proceeded to do so…and wincing in pain, failed. The arm she'd used to push herself away from the wall had given way, and so had one of her legs. Both were almost certainly broken.

Shit! Alright, let's get to it…

It might have been surprising to most people that Grace hadn't realized the presence of two broken limbs until now, but she'd experienced worse pain than this. And pain was the body's way to stop you from moving on. It was something that eight years of training had allowed the NCO to hone out and ignore. Still, unless she did something about the limbs, the physical shortcomings would hold her back, even if the pain didn't. Starting off slow, she went for her right arm first, broken due to the combination of having ground beneath it and 1,000 pounds of power armor landing on top of it.

Should be stronger than this…

Bringing her left arm around to reach for a magazine, Grace knew that getting stronger would have to wait. Bringing out a spare clip for her absent MA5B, she flicked a round out. Next, she moved on to her helmet, going through the difficult process of detaching it with only one hand. Having finally gotten it off, she laid it beside her. Staring at its golden visor, Grace almost wished it wasn't polarized. She didn't get to look in the mirror very often and usually didn't have an inclination to. But the dream, the memories…what did she look like now? Her hair was shorter, her complexion was paler, but the intricacies of her face, if any existed, were unknown to her. After augmentation, Halsey had once mentioned about finding it hard to look in the mirror. The statement had been confusing enough at the time, and right now, even more so. Surely anyone would want to know what they looked like?

Well, I'm not anyone…

She was close to. Most people found it painful to snap broken limbs back into place. And putting the bullet into her mouth and clenching on it, Grace found out why. Short, painful, and nothing she hadn't encountered before, but the urge to get it all out, to let the world here it…well, if it wasn't for that thing wandering around, she just might have.

Tossing the bullet aside to join the already useless magazine, Grace fastened back on her helmet and slowly rose to her feet. There wasn't anything she could do for her leg right now, but at least with both of her arms in relative working order, she could wield her M6C with a degree of efficiency. How much good it would do was another matter, but hopefully the question wouldn't have to be answered. All that mattered now was getting back to the surface and from there, back to Thunderville.

Seeing a series of nearby ramps, Grace proceeded to do so.

Unidentified alien relic (interior)

Isaac didn't like CQC.

It wasn't that the Spartan disliked it, it was just that in the current conflict mankind found himself in, it was a somewhat redundant method of fighting. Against Grunts, Jackals and Skirmishers, few of them could last long enough to warrant use of the technique. Elites could be lethal in close quarters, so it was far more preferable to take them out from a distance. As for Hunters…well, any moron who thought that engaging the behemoths in close combat was a good idea deserved to be killed for his idiocy. But when it came to humanoid psychopaths who were immune to bullets, CQC presented the only way of defending yourself. And right now, Isaac-039 was failing miserably.

Irony could be painful sometimes.

"Come on, put your heart into it!" the assailant yelled, sending another fist forward that Isaac was barely able to block. "Or did they take that from you too?"

Keep talking like that and I'll rip your heart out, you-

Thump!

"Thump," was the sound of a foot making contact with Isaac's helmet, sending the Spartan staggering to one side. And after a second "thump," he went back in the opposite direction. Finally, as the assailant did a double kick and rolled back to his feet, the NCO felt the full force of a double "thump" and made it a trio by landing on the ground with another "thump." Like irony, onomatopoeia could be painful.

"You're not without skill…" SK-018 mocked, walking over to the grounded Spartan. "But you seem reluctant to use it."

Isaac remained silent. His armor had taken most of the blow's force, but his body had still copped some of it. Besides, he didn't want to give the bastard any hint as to how 'reluctant' he was in fighting. Reluctant in the sense that he wasn't reluctant at all.

"Visited the gym lately, Isaac?" the being asked, beginning to pace around. "Been working on your fighting skills? Or is still the firing range for you?"

The firing range? How could he know…

Isaac shook it off. Ellison had reminded him of that already, so he was probably jumping to conclusions about the SOB's implications of familiarity. All that mattered now was to cut the familiarity to a close and get 'familiar' with those who could provided answers.

It didn't take long for a plan to form.

"Well, there's nothing for it," the being said eventually, once again heading for Isaac directly. "I guess I just have to-…"

Bam!

Not only did a different kind of sound reverberate throughout the artifact, but this time Isaac wasn't on the receiving end of it. Having waited for SK-018 to get close enough, he'd sprung up and unloaded a SAP-HP round from his M6D right into its stomach.

"Weapons?" the assailant laughed. "You still think you can harm me with a popgun?"

"What? How did-…"

"The magnetic field tears bullets apart at close range. And trust me, Isaac, I'm not going to let you get any closer."

Having put a large amount of confidence into his point blank tactic, Isaac hadn't anticipated having to defend himself. But with the pistol knocked out of his hand and suddenly feeling the pain of "thumps" as a pair of fists hammered his chest, it was clear it was a precaution he should have taken.

"Come on!" the being yelled, watching as the Spartan stumbled backwards. "Fight back! Live! Let the feel of battle consume you and-…"

Gritting his teeth, Isaac threw a punch…and pissed. The being ducked, grabbed his arm, kneed him three times in the chest, and threw him down to the floor. All in the space of about three seconds.

Too fast…Isaac thought to himself, gasping for breath. Too fast…

Was this what had happened to Grace and the marines, taken down by an assassin who, as good as they were, was simply better? It was a feeling that Isaac had experienced many times in his life. Hell, it was the feeling that all of the UNSC was currently experiencing against the Covenant. But as he rose to his feet, remembering every slapping down he'd got back on Reach, the Spartan couldn't ever remember feeling this worthless, this insignificant. And, in the back of his mind, this…scared as well. Certainly the extended wristblade from the assailant wasn't helping.

"A blade?" the NCO asked, trying to sound full of gusto. "Weren't you against weapons?"

"I was, until you broke the purity of unarmed combat," the being sneered, letting the blade catch the relic's dim light. "Besides, you drew a popgun, whilst this is a unique piece of metal laced with energy. Its uniqueness allows me to use it."

"That's a screwy rule."

"My place, my rules, buddy," SK-018 sneered. "Get used to it."

Darting forward, the assailant didn't leave much time to 'get used to it.'

Isaac raised his arms to form a defensive stance, but once again, he was too slow. A cold feeling filled his left arm, his HUD warning him of a suit breach as the blade breeched his skin. No blood though-somehow it had cauterized the wound, no doubt explaining the lack of blood from the Elites and marines. Before Isaac could even think about the implications of this though, he was sent sprawling. Catching sight of what looked like a control room down a corridor as he fell, Isaac landed on the stone floor. One arm useless, his head pounding and to top it off, a blade pointed at his neck.

Shit…

"It pains me to do this…" said the being, his red gaze matching Isaac's polarized golden one. "To kill an old friend…"

"We're…not friends," Isaac wheezed.

"Not now, I'm afraid. Hell…maybe we never were. But although this causes me pain, take cheer Isaac. I'm about to set you free."

For all the assailant's bullshit, Isaac knew that this was it. His left arm was useless, his right arm was pinned by the bastard's left leg and his own felt too much like jelly to be of any use. All there was to do now was close his eyes and wait to join all his brothers and sisters…if he was lucky.

Five seconds later, and Isaac was still waiting.

Opening his eyes, the Spartan deduced that either he was still alive, or Hell looked a lot like Hope (big surprise there). The knife was still there, its wielder was still there, but neither had moved. It was as if the murderer was…hesitating. But why? He'd killed at least nine people without a second thought, so why give the more lethal adversary pause?

Maybe, as the Spartan heard a safety being released, it was because he wasn't the more lethal adversary…

"Get off him you bastard!"

Isaac heard the yell, but it was quickly eclipsed by the being's own. With an electric current coursing over him, the Spartan supposed he couldn't blame him.

"Ahhh! AHHHHH!"

The being rose to his feet, flailing around as if the stream of energy was a swarm of bees. Hell, maybe it was. Right now, Isaac was willing to believe anything. Even the wielder of the EC-55 that he'd lost earlier.

Grace…

Bruised, battered and with a leg that looked like it was barely supporting her, but Petty Officer Second Class Grace-093 all the same. Isaac had come to rescue her, but it looked like it was the other way round. Still, with the being having stopped flailing and slowly making his way over to them, how long that remained the case was another matter. The weapon had slowed him down, but not stopped him.

But what can stop him? Isaac wondered.

Bullets didn't. Fists didn't. But there was still a third type of weapon in Isaac's arsenal, one that circumstance had prevented him from using. And while circumstances hadn't changed all that much, Isaac couldn't give a damn. And, as he pulled the pin, neither could the frag grenade that rolled over to the monster's feet.

"Fire in the hole!" the Spartan yelled, rising to his feet, only to dive back to ground towards where Grace was. In less than a second, his fellow NCO had joined him.

Boom!

There was no screaming this time. Nor gloating. Nor…well, not anything. Just silence, apart from the Spartans' heavy breathing. To Isaac's surprise, he was breathing harder. Apparently Green Team's 'tech' was hardier than he thought.

"Isaac?" Grace whispered. "You okay?"

Grace didn't answer, the blast and/or impact having knocked her out cold. However, on the brighter side, the blast had detached SK-018's weapon. Still, the Spartan had learnt that the bastard was a weapon in itself. And since that weapon clearly had no intention of being used by the UNSC, the only remaining course of action was to destroy it.

Yes…not him…it.

"That…that…"

"Shut up," Isaac snarled, ignoring the being's gasps and grabbing him by the neck. The armor was intact, if burnt, but the helmet had come loose. So all it took was for Isaac to use his right hand, ignoring the pain, to pull it off.

"Alright. Let's see what kind of man you…"

The helmet dropped on the ground. A M6D pistol joined it. And given the weight in them, so did Isaac's words…

"…this is impossible. You died…"

A/N

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

Update (08/05/2011): Corrected spelling and grammar errors.