Chapter 20
For the second time in a single year, Major Caroline Ackerson found herself walking into the Point of No Return. She reflected that the hallways of the ONI headquarters seemed more dimly lit than they had on her previous visit.
Like last time, the Major gave her data cubes to the security officer to scan. Like last time, she went through the clearance procedure before she was let into the dark room. Like last time, she found herself standing in a spotlight in front of several barely-visible desks.
Unlike last time, Ackerson went in sweating.
Things had gone wrong. Very, very wrong.
When the Major had received the order to immediately return to the Office of Naval Intelligence Headquarters less than a day after the Battle of Meridian, she had at first been relieved. She believed she was in serious danger the longer she remained on the Infinity. With the catastrophic failure of their electronic warfare attack, whatever political leverage ONI had over Captain Lasky was as obliterated as the Infinity'swing of frigates. Lasky could have probably spaced Ackerson and her entire staff and received little punishment for it.
The relief at escaping the potentially wrathful Captain had only lasted as long as it took to board a shuttle off his ship. Once free, the Major realized that she was being recalled by ONI Command in the wake of a substantial failure. Visions of Midnight Facilities, of tiny cells draped in pitch darkness, with no human contact for months at a time, swam in front of her mind's eye.
Ackerson had spent the majority of the journey attempting to find ways to shift the blame for the disaster onto someone else. Anyone else. After extensive deliberation, she had come to the conclusion that the best candidate was the project's lead scientist, Dr. Hamilton. He was the one who had been in charge of manipulating the Forerunner equipment that had been used to remotely access and attack the Guardian. After all, Ackerson had only been meant to oversee the operation. It wasn't her fault that the eggheads hadn't been able to perform to expectations.
Right?
Sweat rolled down Major Ackerson's back as she waited for the Voice to address her. She continued waiting. And waiting. The silence drew on so long, she began to fear that the sound of her heartbeat would drown out the quietly menacing voice of her superiors.
"The mission was a complete failure."
The Voice, once again, spoke in a calm, quiet, and terrifying tone. The threat of silent death seemed to underlie every word. Major Ackerson barely kept herself from jumping in shock. She rushed to cover her reaction.
"Unfortunately, yes," she said, trying to sound professional. "While none of Fireteam Osiris was lost, they were unable to apprehend Blue Team. The Spartan IIs escaped and all 4 members of the fireteam are currently aboard the Infinity. In regard to the Guardian, it seems that Dr. Hamilton did not have as strong a grasp on his technology as he assumed-"
"We are not interested in excuses."
The Major's face went pale. Thankfully, the Voice continued before she could begin stuttering in fear.
"Your report indicates that Dr. Hamilton and his team were able to briefly access Guardian-01's data system."
"Yes, that is correct," Ackerson answered, recognizing the prompt for information. "The connection was severed in nanoseconds, but we were able to get a sense of the scale of Guardian-01's systems. They were...far more than we ever expected." Ackerson steeled herself. This next part would be crucial to her continued survival. "Dr. Hamilton and his staff believe that overwhelming its systems, or even doing any kind of meaningful damage, may well be impossible." Hopefully her superiors would latch on to the doctor's doubts as a point to place blame.
There was a pause.
"Dr. Hamilton believes that we may not be able to destroy the Guardians?"
"That is correct. He believes it is a fool's errand." The implied insult in that term, which had never actually been used by the scientist in question, would hopefully lead attention away from the Major.
"What of this signal he detected? He claims that it resembles the footprint of a human AI?"
Major Ackerson blinked. This was not where she had expected the conversation to go. "...That is correct. It resembles the fingerprint of UNSC AI CTN 0452-9."
That discovery had been a bit of a shock. CTN 0452-9, better known as the Master Chief's AI companion, Cortana, had disappeared along with the Didact's ship several months prior. It was assumed that the AI had been destroyed, but in case it had somehow survived aboard the Forerunner general's ship, every newly recovered piece of Forerunner technology was scanned for any sign of its presence. No one had actually expected to find its fingerprints within the Guardian's databanks. Yet, in the brief bit of data Dr. Hamilton and his AI assistants had managed to download before being cut off, that was exactly what was found.
Even more shocking, the data appeared to be some sort of recall code. It appeared, however absurd, that the dead AI was summoning these things from beyond the grave.
"Does Dr. Hamilton believe that CTN 0452-9 is controlling the Guardians?"
The Voice's words were tinged with interest. If Ackerson provided something Command wanted, maybe she would get to live without even having to sacrifice one of her subordinates.
"That is a distinct possibility," she answered. "Dr. Hamilton suggests, judging by 0452-9's psychological profile, that it is highly unlikely it had anything to do with the ground forces that assaulted Meridian Station. However, the Guardians themselves may very well be under its command."
The next words to come from the Voice were so quiet that the Major struggled to hear them. She was not sure if she was meant to hear them at all. It was as if the Voice was momentarily thinking out loud.
"Under its command..."
There was another pause. Ackerson strained her eyes to pierce the veil of shadows that separated her from her superiors. It proved as futile as ever.
After an eternity, the Voice continued.
"We will dictate a new course of action shortly."
Major Ackerson suppressed a sigh of relief. It seemed she might get to live. More importantly, she would get to avoid imprisonment in a black site prison.
"Now, on to more...concerning matters."
The Major's heartbeat began pounding in her ears again. The Voice continued.
"We assume you have reviewed the data concerning the Spartan IIs? The data contained in the memories of the AI designated 'Sloan'?"
A new understanding washed over the Major. She had been so consumed by the events in the orbital battle, she had hardly given any thought to the data she had received from Agent Locke. Mentally reviewing it now, an entirely new dread began forming a ball of dark matter in the Major's stomach.
"Yes, I have," she responded. "I found it rather distressing-"
"Distressing?!"
This time, Major Ackerson actually did jump. The Voice was showing even more emotion than when the Major had mentioned Dr. Halsey's name in her previous visit to the Point of No Return. The Voice continued.
"Allow us to play a little clip for you, Major, so that you might understand just how 'distressing' this should really be to you."
An audio file played. A monotone voice identified it as being a recording of events within a local law enforcement station on Meridian. She heard a voice, aged and tinged with bitterness, criticize an unseen party for being a lackey of corrupt leadership. The voice that responded stunned the Major. It was a member of Blue Team, Spartan-104. It went on a rant in which it described its fellow Spartan IIs as 'family'. It concluded with a rather alarming declaration.
"Don't tell me I haven't bled, that my family hasn't bled, in service to people who don't deserve it!"
The Voice did not let Ackerson catch her breath.
"Compare that with this."
Another audio file played. This time the monotone stamp identified it as having been taken from Agent Jameson Locke's mission recordings. Another member of Fireteam Osiris, Vale, had just finished asking why Blue Team was following the orders of Dr. Halsey. This time the response came from Spartan-117 himself.
"We're following her because we trust her more than the people who give you orders."
Once again, the Voice was relentless.
"Combine these recordings with the rest of the data that the Liang-Dortmund AI collected on the Spartans during their time on Meridian. What conclusion do you come to?"
Major Ackerson was unable to keep herself from swallowing.
"The Spartan IIs have developed free will."
This was bad. Worse than anything that had happened in orbit over Meridian.
Major Ackerson tried to regain her balance. "I understand that this is a problem-"
"Problem? Major, this is a disaster!"
The mid-level officer could only nod at the Voice's outburst. Her ethereal superior continued.
"Need I remind you, Major, that the entire reason ONI elevated the Spartan IIs to the status of national heroes was because they were merely tools? Because they had no identities of their own? What happens if the nature of their newly-found selves gets out to the public? Having individual personalities that could—no, do—conflict with the carefully crafted heroic personas we created for them could undermine decades of work. Not to mention whatever agendas Halsey has pushed them into supporting. We could be dealing with full-blown Spartan Insurrectionists soon!"
The situation seemed to keep getting worse and worse. The Voice felt the need to keep adding to the Major's distress.
"Have you considered how many would flock to their banner? How many young members of the UNSC, having grown up worshiping the Spartans, would jump at the chance to follow them in a grand revolution? Have you considered that, Major?"
Major Ackerson had, indeed, been considering exactly that. The hero cult that ONI had built up around the Spartans had helped keep morale from collapsing during the Human-Covenant War. Now it could lead to the destruction of everything ONI had built and worked to preserve. The Voice calmed.
"We will have to take measures to neutralize any potential damage the Spartan IIs'...rebellion...may have on the stability of the Unified Earth Government."
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Captain Thomas Lasky was sitting alone in his office, holding his head in his hands.
Disaster. Catastrophe. Nightmare. Cataclysm.
His mind just kept coming up with words to describe the 'Battle' of Meridian. None of them were adequate.
All 8 of the Frigates in his task group had been destroyed. His ship, the flagship of the UNSC fleet, had been heavily damaged to the point of being rendered temporarily non-functional. The mightiest fleet in the UNSC Navy had been crushed in seconds.
Not to mention the 6,572 casualties.
Those men and women had been under Lasky's command. They had trusted him to lead them into battle. To look after them and bring them to hell and back again. He had failed them all.
This was to say nothing of the more long-term consequences of this 'Battle'.
The Infinity Task Group was a high profile placement. The eyes of all human space followed it. As such, only the best and brightest in the UNSC were assigned there. Countless up-and-coming commissioned and non-commissioned officers applied to be stationed in the Infinity Task Group every year, viewing it as the fast-track to promotion. Some of the most brilliant military minds of the coming generation had been lost in the one-sided slaughter over Meridian.
The Broadsword division had probably been the worst hit. Back during the Human-Covenant War, humanity had yet to develop energy shields for its naval vessels. This lead to the pilots of the 2-man Longsword fighter/bombers having a life expectancy roughly on par with the average fruit fly. Experienced pilots of small military spacecraft were thus a rarity. Most of them had been assigned to the Infinity Task Group in order to boost its performance record as much as possible. While most of the Broadswords stationed within the Infinity itself had survived, the sheer number of the smaller craft that had been sucked into the gravity weapons along with their frigates had done damage that the Broadsword division would take years to recover from.
This was all in addition to the tens of thousands of lives lost on Meridian itself. The land battle had been largely over by the time the Infinity arrived, but he still felt responsible for the slaughter that had taken place on the UEG colony. The civilians had trusted the UNSC to protect them, and it had failed to deliver.
Lasky had no idea how he was going to explain all of this to Fleet Admiral Hood. How could he expect the Admiral not to remove him from command after this disaster? Lord knew it was nothing worse than he deserved.
The Captain pushed himself up out of his chair, straightened his clothing, and went to make his report. He had spent enough time wallowing in grief and self-pity. He would face the consequences of his failure, whatever they may be, and accept them with dignity.
At least I don't have to deal with Major Ackerson anymore, Lasky thought, trying to focus on the bright side.
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The few surviving colonists of Meridian Station were settling in relatively well within depths of the Infinity. The civilians that had gone up in the elevator's accidental first trip had managed to board the freighters and detach from the stalk prior to its cataclysmic destruction. The Guardian had neglected to target them, presumably because they had not acted aggressively towards it.
Small blessings, Spartan Jameson Locke thought. He was currently in his office, watching a live feed from the security cameras placed in what was becoming known as the 'Refugee Section.' He was watching the civilians he and his fireteam had managed to save.
All 73 of them.
There had been 50,137 colonists on Meridian just prior to his arrival.
50,064. That was how many people had died because Locke had disabled Governor Sloan. That was how many had died because he had unquestioningly followed orders from Command.
Compared to the exterminations of human colonies that had taken place in the Human-Covenant War, this number was practically nothing. Each Covenant sack of a human planet racked up a kill count at least in the 8 digit range. The fall of Meridian Station would barely qualify as a footnote in the history texts on the 26th Century.
It would take up a lot more space in Locke's mind. He wondered it it would ever leave his consciousness.
The video feed showed a couple, a woman and a man, move off to the side of a group. Locke zoomed in. He thought he recognized one of them. It took a moment before he recognized Michelle Cortez, the woman that had alerted Tanaka about the generator located in Waterloo's basement. Without that woman, it was likely that they would have all been killed by the Buzzards. Perhaps Locke should go and thank her...
No.
Locke couldn't go to see her.
He couldn't go to see any of them.
After all, there was a reason why he was looking at the survivors through a viewscreen instead of visiting them in person. He just...couldn't bring himself to go to them. He couldn't bring himself to face them. He had stared down countless alien horrors without a second thought, yet here he was, running away from a bunch of civvies.
The viewscreen showed the man Cortez was talking to react with shock. Cortez smiled and placed his hand over her stomach. The man started smiling. The couple embraced, both of them crying. Huh. She was probably pregnant.
Locke zoomed out to examine the group once more. He activated the audio function, deciding he wanted to know what they were talking about.
"I'm tellin' ya, I saw one of 'em flyin' through the air!" one of them said.
"Ah, you're full 'a shit, Wilson," another one said. The first one grew indignant.
"How the hell would you know?" speaker #1 demanded. "You were stuck in the front bin the whole time! I'm tellin' ya, the Spartans have got jet packs on those things!"
"Wouldn't surprise me," a third colonist spoke up. "From everything I saw, they've got some seriously fancy gear."
"And the balls to use it," speaker #1 continued.
Speaker #3 grunted in agreement. "Amen to that." He paused to think something over. "Ya know, I may not like the UNSC overmuch, and the UEG can go straight to hell, but I think the Spartans have done right by us."
All of the colonists in earshot voiced their agreement. They began sharing their own stories about what they had supposedly seen the members of Fireteam Osiris do. They were all embellished. It was obvious that the Spartans would soon reach mythic proportions in the minds of the survivors of Meridian.
Locke turned off the feed. He couldn't listen to any more.
If they only knew, he thought. Locke glanced down at the object in his hand.
The ruined action figure had been a big surprise to Locke when he found it. He had been emptying his equipment pouches along with the rest of his fireteam after arriving back on the Infinity. They had been turning in whatever ammo or equipment they hadn't used to the quartermaster. None of them spoke a word; the air had been...rather tense.
Then, suddenly, there it was. In his hand. He hadn't remembered keeping it. For a moment a primal, childish part of him felt like he was being haunted. Fortunately, he had recovered quickly enough to hide the figure before anyone noticed it.
The toy had barely resembled the Master Chief when it had been new. Now, it didn't resemble much of anything at all. Half of its surface was either charred or slightly melted. The '117' that had been painted on its chest was now gone. Locke wondered if it could ever be repaired; if a child would ever be inspired by it again.
Locke shook his head. He was getting lost in his thoughts. He buried the figure deep in his desk drawers before looking at the desk surface to left of his compad.
A set of data cubes was sitting there. They contained information he was not supposed to have.
ONI Command had demanded that Locke destroy all copies of Governor Sloan's memories that he had in his possession. Locke had informed them that he would do just that. He had stopped short of telling them that he would only do so after he had examined them.
Compartmentalization was ONI's modus operandi. Locke was supposed to know what he needed to know, and absolutely nothing more. If this policy was broken, it could lead to security breaches and deadly consequences, for those within and outside the Office of Naval Intelligence. If Command ever suspected he had played a trick on them...
Locke pushed those thoughts to the side. He plugged one of the cubes into his encrypted compad. He started a search for anything that was related to the topic he was most interested in. The topic that he couldn't stop thinking about.
It did not take him long to find what he was looking for. It took the form of a set of restricted personnel files. Locke started reading.
Name: Steven Rogers.
Occupation: Prospector.
Locke read long into the night, devouring all of the information Governor Sloan had collected on Blue Team, their assumed identities, and how they had spent their time on the doomed colony.
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The comm terminal took a long damn time to complete its task. It wasn't because the other party in the call was far away, although that was definitely true. Really, it was because of security. It took forever to go through all the levels of encryption necessary to talk to the person Spartan Edward Buck wanted to talk to.
The viewscreen finally showed a live feed of Veronica Dare. Buck sighed in relief as he saw his wife for the first time in months.
"Buck, what the hell is going on over there?" Veronica asked. Buck suppressed a grimace. She was using last names again. Great.
"Hello to you, too, Miss Naval Intelligence," Buck replied. "What exactly do you want to know?"
Veronica was clearly in no mood to joke. "Try, 'everything'. News is scarce where I'm sitting. Command is trying to keep a lid on things, but people are still in a near-panic. I'm trying to weather a major storm over here and I need intel."
Buck snorted. "The word 'clusterfuck' comes to mind." He went on to give an account of everything that had happened on Meridian, as well as what he had learned about the fleet battle. Technically, sharing this information was a major breach of security clearance. He could face charges of treason for this. Fortunately, the gadget that Veronica had given him, which was currently stuck to the door of the comm room he was using, would mask any sign of what he was really talking about. As far as any monitoring equipment or passersby were concerned, he and his wife were having a perfectly legal conversation. Besides, if anyone could hack one of Veronica's comms, they deserved to catch them.
"Is ONI really gonna try to cover this up?" Buck asked, disbelieving. Even if they could somehow hide what had happened here, doing so would be a seriously dishonorable thing to do. Even for the Office of Naval Intelligence.
"What do you think, Buck?" Veronica demanded with a scowl. "The flagship fleet of the UNSC just got its ass handed to it. National morale is going to plummet clean through the floor. We've got to contain this as much as possible, and that means keeping this quiet for as long as we can and only releasing select details of what happened."
"People died here, Veronica!" Buck all but shouted. "We should tell people the truth!"
"A lot more people will die if there's a mass panic!" Veronica countered, exasperated. This was familiar ground for them. "We're scrambling to handle this over here, Buck. The fallout from this shit is going to be insane. I'm already not liking the scuttlebutt I'm hearing."
Buck paused. He noticed something that cut off his rant before it could really get started. "'Shit' and 'scuttlebutt'?" Buck said with a grin. "Sounds like you're picking up a bit of Marine-speak. Nice to see I'm teachin' you somethin', for a change."
Veronica tried to keep up her scowl. It only lasted a few seconds. She broke into a grin as well, and in a few more seconds they were both chuckling. The tension deflated instantly.
"Look, no promises, but I'll do what I can to make sure justice is done over here," she assured him.
Veronica paused. Her eyes grew soft. "You must've gone through hell."
Buck got a bit misty-eyed himself. He knew he was the only person alive who ever got to see this side of Veronica Dare.
"Hey, it's all part of the job, right?" Buck joked. They chuckled again.
The couple moved on to less contentious topics after that. They smiled and laughed, enjoying what time together they could manage. It was never very much. Such were the costs of serving as the sword and shield of humanity.
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Spartan Holly Tanaka punched Locke in the face. She followed it up with a knee to the midsection and several rapid fire strikes to the kidneys.
She wasn't actually hitting her CO, of course. She was in one of the exercising rooms, taking out her frustrations on a punching bag she was pretending was Jameson Locke. She kept hitting the bag, with more and more vicious strikes.
The punching bag split open. This was a rather impressive feat considering the bag she was using was rated for Spartan use, meaning it had been stress tested with a pneumatic cannon. Tanaka grinned in pride before remembering that this would probably be taken out of her pay. She smacked the bag a few more times in frustration before walking away to let the janitorial staff do their thing.
What the hell was she going to do?
Should she file a complaint? After the absolute disaster that was the Battle of Meridian, she could probably get Locke brought up on charges. If someone had asked her before the fight at Waterloo, she'd probably have done just that.
But Tanaka had seen Locke fight. She'd seen him trying desperately to hold the line. She thought back to the last few seconds of the battle.
Tanaka had sent the elevator up from the exterior rather than ride it up herself. Technically, she hadn't been violating orders, as Locke had told her to 'send' it up, although that may have been a slip of the tongue. Still, she hadn't been about to cut and run. There was still fighting going on.
Locke had fought hard. He'd charged an enemy he knew he didn't have a chance in hell of beating, just because he knew it would kill the civilians if he didn't. That was honorable.
However, it didn't erase the fact that Locke was the one who had disabled the defense grid in the first place. He'd followed an idiotic order that left Meridian Station almost completely defenseless, and for what? The AI in charge played its cards close to the chest? Was that a good enough reason for a summary execution, now? Not to mention the fact that he seemed surprised when he was told that only Sloan had the keys to the turrets. So he didn't even know anything about the place he was screwing over.
Tanaka stowed her workout clothes and slammed the door to her locker. The bang echoed throughout the room. She noticed some of the other Spartan IVs roll their eyes. She also noticed them quickly look away when she glared at them for it. Tanaka was tempted to make something of their attitude. She shook her head. They weren't worth the trouble.
What should she do? Locke had fought hard, but he was still responsible for every death on that planet.
Then again, so was Tanaka...
She tried to banish that thought. She failed.
Tanaka had failed the people of Meridian. She remembered the people she had met on that doomed shithole of a colony. That colony that felt so much like Minab. She remembered that secretary, Belmonte. She remembered the colonists she had helped load onto the elevator before it went up the stalk...only to screech to a halt, killing everyone inside.
What right did Holly Tanaka have to survive, when they didn't?
It was an old question for her. A question she had asked herself many times over the years, in regard to different people. Before the people of Meridian, it had been her fellow Spartans. Before her fellow Spartans, it had been her fellow Marines. Before it was her fellow Marines, it had been...
Before the Marines, it had been...
The Spartan IV shook her head. She was not going down that road. She'd made peace with her family's deaths years ago. Really, she had.
The echo of an ancient pain, an unhealed wound, ached in her gut as she walked back to her quarters.
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The slide-show came to an end. Spartan Olympia Vale said a quick prayer and closed down her compad. She set it down on the small table next to her bed in one of Infinity's sick bays.
She had just finished looking over the pictures she had taken of the children she had met on Meridian. She didn't know most of their names, so she couldn't say them aloud to honor them. Looking over these images was all she could do to remember them.
Not that Vale could ever forget. Something about Meridian had touched every empathetic nerve in her body. It had reminded her of every Outer Colony she had visited, of every injustice she had learned of, of every Outer Colonist she had met during her childhood. It felt as if failing to save Meridian represented failing to save them all.
At least some of them managed to survive, Vale thought, trying to stay positive. It didn't work.
The door to the sick bay opened. Vale could hear someone approach her end of the room. She turned away, pretending to check on something, so she could wipe the tears off of her face. She'd spent a lot of the time since she'd regained consciousness crying.
"How ya doin', Vale?" Buck asked. Tanaka came up to stand next to him. Vale smiled at her squadmates. She appreciated them coming to visit her.
"I'm holding up fine," Vale said. "The doctors say I'll be in here for about a week, but I think I can cut that in half, at least."
They all heard one of the doctors in question, a Dr. Chakwas, snort from part way across the room. This was a conversation the Spartan had had with the good doctor several times. As much as she appreciated having time to catch up on her reading, Vale despised being stuck in one of these beds.
Something occurred to the her. "Is Locke busy, or something?" Vale asked. It stung a little that her leader didn't come with the others.
Her squadmates' expressions darkened.
"We haven't seen 'im in a while," Buck said. "To be honest, that's probably a good thing." Tanaka grunted in agreement.
Vale frowned. She supposed Locke was more than a little responsible for what had happened on Meridian, but he hadn't intended any harm. He had only done what he thought was right. Besides, he'd fought as hard as any of them to save the colonists.
Buck and Tanaka both seemed to pick up on her thoughts. She had always been a terrible card player.
"You're way too forgiving for your own good, you know that?" Tanaka asked with a sad grim.
The Spartans all had a good laugh at that.
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A blue light flashed on the surface of Meridian. Where moments before there had been an empty patch of silicate ground, there were now multiple pieces of alien equipment surrounding a raised platform. Atop the platform were 4 figures. They were wearing marred, damaged armor.
One of the figures was limping badly. The wounded one was supported by another of its fellows, which had the injured party's arm around its shoulder.
Another figure was scanning the environment, keeping its pistol at the ready. A broken sniper rifle was attached to its back.
The final figure was standing alone. It carried a broken body in its arms.
"It looks like this equipment is solid matter. Not hard-light," Kelly remarked, helping Fred move off of the platform. They weren't sure if the teleportation technology they had located within the caves would reactivate with them on it.
"We'll take what we can with us," the Master Chief said. The response was more of a reflex than anything. Recovering any intact alien technology had been standing orders for his entire military career.
The Chief spoke in a voice utterly devoid of emotion. Kelly would probably have remarked on it, if they hadn't all shared his monotone since learning of their mother's...death.
"I'm calling in the micro-prowler. We'll have to risk detection," the Chief continued. If any of his squadmates asked, he would have said it was a calculated risk. In reality, John just wanted to get off of this planet as quickly as possible. Their target was gone, and he didn't want to spend any more time on this hellhole than he had to.
The stealth ship Blue Team had recovered months before came screaming in from orbit. It landed 10 meters away from the Spartans. Blue Team moved up the open ramp. John gently laid Dr. Halsey's body on one of the bunks. Kelly helped Fred lay down on the floor, the bunk being unable to support the weight of the Spartan and his armor. Those of them who were still well enough to move went about collecting what little Forerunner technology they could fit in their transport.
The micro-prowler rose into the air. They would have to enter slipspace fast to avoid being apprehended by whatever UNSC forces were in the system. However advanced the ship's stealth systems may have been, they couldn't hide the heat from reentry.
The Master Chief noticed something strange as they rose into high orbit. If he was reading his coordinates right, he should be able to see Meridian Station, but it was nowhere on his screen. In fact, he couldn't even locate the orbital elevator. The ship's alarm system notified the Chief of a large human ship in the star system. The Chief's eyes widened behind his polarized visor as he saw the heavily damaged UNSC Infinity.
Immediately, John knew what had happened. This scene was one he had seen countless times before. The battle had been lost, the alien force had moved in and annihilated a human colony, and whatever UNSC forces remained were forced to lick their wounds and hope to win next time.
What might have happened if Blue Team...if Dr. Halsey...had been able to fully access the Forerunner computer systems? Could they have turned the tide of the battle?
As the micro-prowler passed into slipspace, ignoring the Infinity's demands for identification, a single thought occupied the Master Chief's mind. It was a piece of conversation from earlier in the night. It had been repeating itself, asserting its presence and overwhelming his conscious thoughts, over and over again for hours:
"Name's Locke. I'm the leader of Fireteam Osiris. We've been looking for you guys..."
This chapter was mostly about the aftermath of the Battle of Meridian and how it impacted the major characters. The next chapter will largely be set up for the Sanghelios arc. In other words, the action's gonna slow down a bit for a while. There will probably be more than in the Meridian arc, considering the planet is locked in a civil war, but I'm not going to go overboard. Hope you enjoyed all the climactic battles.
Note: And ONI continues to be Stupid Evil. The concept of the evil military/government trying to take control of the horrible monster instead of destroying it (let's be honest, you all figured out that's what's happening immediately, right? Cool.) is pretty cliché at this point. I think Jurassic World is probably the worst offender in this regard. However, I do think it can work if handled properly. I've tried to characterize ONI as arrogant, and one of the things that arrogant people often do when confronted with their own failure is to go into denial. They refuse to acknowledge that they were wrong. Here, ONI refuses to acknowledge that they can't control everything. They're doubling down on their flawed ideology rather than being honest with themselves about their own faults and limitations. This kind of behavior has destroyed countless people and organizations in real life. *cough Wall Street cough cough*
Note: The part about the brightest officers of the next generation being killed in the battle was inspired by a scene in the Star Wars novel Heir to the Empire, by Timothy Zahn. For those of you who haven't read it (all 3 of you) I highly recommend it, as well as its sequels Dark Force Rising and The Last Command. Really, anything written by Zahn is a solid bet to be quality reading.
Note: Hey, anybody remember those awesome trailers that seemed to suggest that the Master Chief and Agent Locke hated each other, or at the very least were in some way enemies? Remember how absolutely none of that was in the actual game? Yeah, I'm gonna try to fix that here.
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly