Chapter 21

The room was pitch dark. No light sources could penetrate the bulkheads that served as walls to the personal domicile. Little sound could penetrate, either. There was near-total silence. It was comparable to sensory deprivation.

In other words, there was nothing to distract Jameson Locke from his thoughts.

The ONI Agent sat up in his bunk. He sighed, put his feet over the side of his bed, and activated the lights. It was no use trying to sleep. He had barely slept at all in the few days since Meridian. Every time he tried, he saw the doomed planet on the inside of his eyelids.

The compad hummed to life as Locke activated it. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well get some work done. He started skimming through Blue Team's files once more, his thoughts wandering to his new orders. They had been a bit of a shock.

When Locke had entered one of the comm rooms in the Infinity's recreation wing, ready to report his failure, he had been nervous. Well...not quite nervous. 'Numb' would be closer to the truth. It was a rather worrying emotional response, really.

Locke had entered the room, stuck the jamming device on the door, and made his report to the Disembodied Voice and its default user image.

To his surprise, DV hadn't blamed Locke or Fireteam Osiris at all. Instead, it had directed all attention to the Spartans and their 'mother'. DV claimed that the renegades had activated the Guardian. That Dr. Halsey had deployed the Soldiers in order to delay the UNSC. That Blue Team, being the obedient drones that they were, had gone along with her plan without question. Then, his unseen superiors at Command had dropped the bomb:

The mission was no longer retrieval. Dr. Halsey and Blue Team needed to be stopped at all costs.

Locke had been ordered to terminate them all.

The only remaining Spartan IIs in existence.

The Master Chief himself.

The order was perfectly logical. The Guardian and the Soldiers were a major threat to the UNSC, the UEG, and sapient life in general. They needed to be stopped at any cost. The lives of any humans, even ones as significant as these, were nothing in comparison. These people were threats that needed to be removed, like any other targets Locke had eliminated over the years.

Assuming Command was being truthful, that is.

Locke thought back to Governor Sloan's memories. The ones he was not supposed to have seen. The ones that seemed to demonstrate that Blue Team...that the Master Chief...were not mindless drones at all.

If that was true, then the question became 'Why?' Why had Blue Team decided to go rogue? Why were they following Dr. Halsey? Were they responsible for the events on Meridian?

Part of Locke desperately hoped that they were.

Locke shook his head. He had to stay logical.

If the Spartan IIs really were sapient beings, why would they want to summon the Guardians? Why would they want to deploy the Soldiers? It was possible that the Soldiers were an unintended side-effect rather than a deliberate attack. It would make sense. After all, Locke would bet that the legendary Blue Team would have done a better job instructing their killer drones in military tactics. The Soldiers' behavior would be an embarrassment to any professional military mind. However, that still left the question of why they would want control of the Guardians.

Were they simply following Dr. Halsey's orders because they trusted her? If Dr. Halsey had manipulated them into losing faith in ONI without compromising her own authority, her threat level would increase exponentially.

Of course, it was also possible that the Spartan IIs were following only their own desires. Had they decided to use the Forerunner constructs to conquer? To seize power for themselves? It would make a kind of sense. Desiring power after spending their entire lives under the control of others would be a very human response, after all.

If the Spartans IIs had released the Soldiers, even accidentally, because they were pursuing their own agenda, it would make them just as responsible for the destruction of Meridian as Locke. Perhaps more so.

That thought sealed it. Locke would pursue the renegade Spartans. He would not kill them, however. Not before he asked them 'Why?' He had to know if they were indeed guilty.

Maybe then he would be able to sleep.

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Captain Lasky stood at attention and saluted. This was due more to his own opinion of the officer he was addressing rather than military protocol.

"Admiral Hood, sir," he said, addressing the holographic image.

The Fleet Admiral and Commanding Officer of the entire UNSC returned the salute. "At ease, Captain," he said. Lasky complied and took a seat behind his desk. The Admiral's hologram was projected above its surface. "How are you holding up?" his superior asked.

"Rather well, all things considered," Lasky responded truthfully. In all honesty, he was still rather shocked. After he had finished briefing the Admiral and the Joint Chiefs, he had been expecting them to remove him from command and break his career like twig. Instead, he had been informed that he would remain in command of the Infinity and that he would receive new orders shortly. He presumed that this comm from the Admiral would deliver said orders.

Admiral Hood seemed to see clean through Lasky's poker face. His eyes softened an infinitesimal amount. "Don't blame yourself, son. You're far from the only commander to be outclassed in naval warfare in the past century."

"Thank you, sir. I'll try to take that to heart," Lasky said, nodding. The Admiral smiled at that, seeming to recognize the difficulty Lasky would have in said task. It was something all officers went through. All of the good ones, anyway.

The 2 naval officers spent some time discussing various topics relating to their position. Logistics, troop placements, etc. The conversation soon turned to the state of the Infinity Task Group.

"We'll have a Cradle, fully stocked, in-system within the week. They should get your bird up and running soon enough," the Admiral said.

"Thank you, sir," Lasky replied, impressed. There weren't many Cradle Repair/Refit Stations left in the UNSC fleet. The Stations were essentially slipspace-capable plates of Titatnium-A, a kilometer to a side, capable of servicing 6 destroyers at once—3 on its upper side and another 3 on its lower side. Towards the end of the war, things had grown so desperate that the Cradles had been used as shields to absorb plasma fire from Covenant ships. This had allowed the human fleets to avoid damage long enough to actually rack up a few victories. It was a Pyrrhic tactic, obviously, since the UNSC fleet would need servicing to stay functional, but it had been necessary. Morale was near rock bottom in both the general populace and within the military itself. The sacrifice of the Cradles may have bought enough time for humanity to survive. Unfortunately, it had left the fleet in rather short supply of the precious Stations.

Admiral Hood sighed. Lasky guessed he wouldn't like what came next. He was correct.

"Unfortunately, we will not be able to replace your lost frigates at this time," the Admiral said. "The Navy is still too depleted to spare any ships. We're struggling to defend what territory we have left."

This was privileged information, known only to the highest ranks of the UNSC and the civilian government. The honor he felt at being inducted into their number had combined with the horror at humanity's vulnerability to make the revelation rather disorienting. The technically mid-ranking officer forced himself to focus on the present.

Captain Lasky nodded, dejected. He would have to make due with whatever repairs the Cradle managed within its timeframe.

"Your ultimate assignment, however, has not changed," Admiral Hood continued, to Lasky's surprise. "The Infinity still has the potential to be the morale saver we wanted her to be. If we can find and neutralize the source of this new threat, and give the Infinity credit for it, we can still salvage this disaster."

Captain Lasky sat straighter in his chair. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down, Admiral."

Admiral Hood chuckled. "I know you won't, son." His face grew serious again. "You'll have to wait until we figure out where the next one is going to appear. The engineers are working on that now. Any last questions?"

Lasky hesitated. "Yes, sir...If I may, why was I not relieved of command? The Battle of Meridian was my responsibility, after all."

"You stow that shit, sailor," the Admiral ordered sternly. Lasky sat straighter in his chair again, chastised. "You did everything you could. Besides...more fingers are being pointed at ONI right now. It was their tech that failed, after all."

"...Really, sir?" Lasky asked. He tried to hide his surprise. ONI had always been rather good at evading blame for its actions, even when they were obvious blunders. The Admiral saying they were receiving criticism was surprising, to say the least.

Admiral Hood displayed that miniscule smirk of his. Although Lasky would swear that there was a more predatory edge to it this time. "Dismissed, Captain," the Admiral concluded simply. The comm terminated. Captain Lasky was left in an empty room.

The mid-ranking officer swallowed. He got the impression that he had just gotten a glimpse at a very large game. He shook his head, deciding to focus on his current mission. He'd leave anything above his pay-grade above his pay-grade, thank you very much.

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The briefing room was silent. Locke might have honestly preferred it to be full of shouting.

The other members of Fireteam Osiris were staring at him in disbelief. He was standing at the front of the room, facing his subordinates once again, and had just finished briefing them on the updated status of their current mission:

The recovery of Blue Team was now a tertiary objective. The primary objective was to discover the source of the Guardians' recall code as well as follow any lead on the location of a possible command center for the superweapons. The secondary objective was to prevent the activation of any more Guardians if at all possible.

If Blue Team or Dr. Halsey interfered with either of the first 2 objectives, they were to be eliminated.

The room had descended into silence at that point.

Maybe they're just shocked that I'm still in charge, Locke thought sarcastically. The operation had ceased to be under the direct authority of the Office of Naval Intelligence and was now within the normal military chain of command. Fireteam Osiris had not been dissolved only due to the leaders of ONI pulling every string they had left. At least, that was the official story. In reality, Locke himself was still taking orders from ONI, and his orders had the elimination of Blue Team as the primary objective.

Now there's a 2nd layer of dishonesty in play, Locke thought with a mental grimace. His orders would not interfere with his own search for answers. He banished those thoughts. He couldn't afford to become unbalanced.

Spartan Vale was the 1st to speak. "Why would Blue Team keep interfering? Wouldn't they recognize the danger and work with us?" Judging by the look in her eyes, Locke surmised that she was still dealing with the trauma of the fall of Meridian.

Spartan Tanaka followed with her characteristic borderline insubordination. "Given the mess we made, maybe we oughtta consider whether they might know more than we do, boss. Maybe we shouldn't be gettin' in their way." Tanaka's eyes were blazing with barely restrained fire. Locke was surprised she had enough self control to resist the urge to physically attack him right there in the briefing room.

Spartan Buck just stared at Locke. His eyes were inscrutable. Locke was unsure just what was going on in the veteran's mind. He found this more unnerving than Tanaka's open hostility.

"To answer Vale's question," Locke began, knowing he had a better case there. "They won't work with us because all they know how to do is to follow orders, and that isn't what their current master ordered them to do." This sparked another stunned silence. Few people other than the most rabid anti-UEG zealots ever spoke of humanity's greatest heroes in such terms. Locke braced himself before continuing. "I have been authorized to reveal to you the origins of the Spartan II program. The real origins; not the propaganda. Note that this is Alpha Level privileged information. If any of you speak openly of what you learn here, you will face charges of treason."

The other members of Fireteam Osiris stared at Locke. He knew he had their undivided attention. He proceeded to explain to them the true origins of Blue Team, using his encrypted compad to display classified documents on the wall's viewscreen. He explained how they were abducted as children. How they were trained and indoctrinated. How they had no real will of their own. How Dr. Halsey, their mother figure, had used her bond with them to subvert their loyalty to the UNSC. All of the facts that were the conventional wisdom of ONI's higher ups. All of the 'facts' that Locke was beginning to doubt himself.

Locke made sure to keep his inner thoughts off of his face. It was rather easy; he had years of practice at it.

The members of Fireteam Osiris looked stunned once again. They had just been inducted into a very select group of informed individuals. None of the other Spartan IVs, not even their leader, Commander Palmer, knew the truth about the Spartan IIs. Locke doubted even Captain Lasky knew.

"This can't be..." Vale said. Her voice was a near whisper.

Buck piped up next. "So this is the kinda shit ONI gets up to when no one's lookin'." The former ODST shook his head in disgust.

Spartan Locke was tempted to argue with Buck. He could have mentioned the growing Insurrection. He could have argued that the threat of civil war necessitated desperate measures. However, he knew it wouldn't do any good. Locke would just be perceived as an extension of ONI defending unethical behavior. There really wasn't any good answer to this. He changed the subject back to the present.

"Whatever the rationale behind the program," he argued, "the fact of the matter is that the Spartan IIs are a threat. If they choose to interfere, they could cause the deaths of billions of human beings. Do any of you think we can afford to take that risk?"

None of his squadmates answered. Buck continued to look inscrutable, although Locke thought he could see a bit of contempt and moral outrage in the man's eyes. Tanaka still looked angry, but she seemed to be seeing the wisdom in Locke's words. Vale, though, still looked stunned.

"The Spartans were heroes..." she whispered.

"They still are," Locke countered. Everyone looked to him in surprise and confusion. Locke decided that, once again, the truth would be the best tool for the occasion.

"The way I see it," Locke explained, "everyone that ever got a statue made of them of was one kind of son-of-a-bitch or another. Maybe they were womanizers. Maybe they embezzled money. Maybe they were slave owners. No one ever lives up to their own legend. No one." Locke paused. "But that doesn't mean they aren't heroes."

Jameson Locke thought back to Jericho VII. He thought back to his childhood, spent worshiping the Master Chief. He thought back to how his imagined hero had inspired him to push himself, to endure, to become better than he ever could have otherwise. He continued his speech.

"Heroes aren't about who the person really was. It's about what people need. People need heroes to inspire them, give them hope. The Spartan IIs gave people hope in the War. They inspired a lot of people to be better." He paused. "They inspired me to be better. I'm willing to bet they inspired all of us, am I right?" The room was silent again. Locke knew he had struck the truth. "So, Blue Team aren't the paragons we thought they were. So what? They were still as much heroes as anyone ever was..."

The conversation petered out after that. Locke was sure he had given that speech for a purpose, but thinking back, he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Eventually, he continued the briefing. They had a mission to complete.

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The cargo hatch of the micro-prowler opened. The body of Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey, still contained in its hard-suit, drifted out. The hard-suit was wrapped in one of the sheets from the ship's bunks. There was no coffin; none were available. Besides, the hard-suit had been crushed into the wounds; removing it would have been...rather traumatic, even for the veterans of Blue Team.

The gravity of an unknown star pulled at it. Over the course of a few hours, it was pulled close enough to combust. The good doctor was given a funeral pyre of the 26th Century.

The members of Blue Team watched all the while. They watched as the closest thing any of them had to a mother was taken from them in finality. Dr. Halsey was truly gone.

John fought back tears. He refused to allow the turmoil within his heart to show on his face. He knew he was not completely successful.

Nothing would be able to hide the guilt he felt. The guilt at failing to save her.

Perhaps worse than that was the disorientation. He had relied upon Dr. Halsey to be his moral guide. John had no idea what to do now. How to view himself and the world. He didn't have anything to steady himself, to allow him to regain his psychological footing.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm John again. A fire rose in his chest to squelch it.

Locke. Agent Locke. The one who had attacked them in the Forerunner facility. If it wasn't for him, they might have stopped the Guardian altogether. They might have all come out unscathed. A part of John was sorely tempted to launch a mission with the expressed goal of eliminating the false-Spartan.

The Master Chief shook his head. He couldn't allow himself to be sucked into his own blood vendetta. Such a thing went against everything he had been raised to believe. Everything he had embraced himself. He was to be a protector, not a seeker of vengeance. It was more difficult to center himself than it would have been a year ago. He grew frustrated. A thought jumped into the forefront of his mind.

Cortana.

The only hope he had was that they would be able to find Cortana. Next to Dr. Halsey, the AI had been the smartest person he had ever known. Certainly the best person he had ever truly grown close to, besides the doctor.

They had to find Cortana. She would be able to make everything make sense again. She had to.

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Kelly cried openly.

Gone.

Dr. Halsey was gone.

Her augmented vision finally lost track of the spark that was the doctor's burning body on the ship's viewscreen. It was either gone or had moved too far away to see.

"Goodbye, mother..." she whispered.

Kelly tried to focus on the good times. She remembered how happy Dr. Halsey had seemed back in the clinic. How much pride her mother had taken in helping the colonists as much as her incredible intellect would allow. There had been an easy contentment in the good doctor that Kelly couldn't recall ever seeing in the woman before.

Then, there had been the conversation. Dr. Halsey had finally opened up about her own emotions. She had told her children of her own guilt; of how she felt she had wronged the people she had come to care most for. Kelly remembered how her mother had burst into tears when they told her that they forgave her.

They had been good tears, though. They had represented a release, not a new pain. Dr. Halsey had seemed happier than ever in the brief time the family had remained together before the end.

The end...

Kelly's tears renewed themselves. She didn't worry about appearing weak. She would cry now, then pick herself up and keep fighting. Her siblings would understand.

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Fred closed his eyes as his chest throbbed in pain. The doctor's body had already disappeared from view.

The injuries inflicted by the Warden Eternal had turned out to be comparatively minor. For a non-augmented human, they would have required extensive surgery. For Fred, it only required some minor treatments from Kelly. The team's medic had learned much during her time as Dr. Halsey's 'apprentice' in the medical clinic. Blue One should be fully combat ready within a matter of days.

Of course, the physical injuries paled in comparison to the emotional ones.

Once again, Fred had failed to save a member of his family. It felt like a story that had been happening more and more as the years went on. If only he had been able to beat that giant freak back in the control center, none of this might have happened.

Fred shook his head. He knew better than to think like that. There was no way to know what might have happened. A soldier had to deal with what did happen; anything else was something that should be left to historians and arm-chair generals.

Knowing that didn't make it much easier.

Why did she have to do it? Why had Dr. Halsey left cover to access that console? Was it to save his life? He would have gladly died at the hands of the Warden if it meant she continued to live. Why did she have to jump into the line of fire?

A part of him chuckled internally as he realized that such behavior was common amongst Spartans. Perhaps it ran in the family.

The pain in his chest eased just a bit.

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Logical.

Linda was determined to remain logical.

Dr. Halsey was dead. There was nothing she could do to change that.

What she could do, was honor her memory. In the significant conversation before the battle, when Dr. Halsey had confessed her emotional perspective to Blue Team, Linda had gotten a sense of what the good doctor had wanted.

Halsey had wanted the Spartans to be individuals. To make their own decisions. To be moral and righteous, but not to let others determine what that meant. Linda reaffirmed her own commitment to no longer be a drone. She would no longer be a puppet the corrupt individuals in positions of power. She would still follow orders, but she would not do so in ignorance. Nor would she do anything she believed to be immoral.

So. That left the question of 'What next?'.

The current mission to stop the Guardians was important. Billions of lives potentially hung in the balance. Defeating this threat was as close to an objective good as there could be. Linda would help the rest of Blue Team meet this threat and crush it. What came next, came next.

There was a sob in the cabin of the micro-prowler. Linda frowned as she failed to recognize it. It didn't sound like Kelly, the most likely source of an emotional outburst. Nor did it sound like John or Fred. It sounded feminine, actually.

Linda's eyes widened as she realized that she had been the one who sobbed. He jaw nearly dropped open as she caught her own reflection in one of the computer consoles.

She was crying.

A hand was placed on Linda's shoulder. It was Kelly's. She looked at Linda with a sympathetic expression; her own eyes were still red with tears.

Linda reached up to brush the hand off. She appreciated the sentiment, but she did not require such assurances. To her surprise, Linda found her own hand clutching at Kelly's rather than brushing it off. What was going on?

Linda continued crying. Soon, John and Fred joined Kelly in comforting her. Soon, every remaining member of the family was holding one another. They leaned on each other as the pain swept over them all.

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Fred, Linda, and Kelly were asleep. They were lying completely still in their bunks, aside from their breathing. They slept the sleep of the physically and emotionally exhausted.

John had been unable to join them. He was looking at a picture on one of the computer consoles.

It was a profile picture. It displayed a man; Linda had researched him before the funeral. He was dark of skin, probably of African descent. His skin tone reminded John of Sgt. Avery Johnson, a Marine friend from the War with similar pigmentation. The skin color was the only shared trait. Johnson had been a true soldier, an honorable man. In another world, he may have been a Spartan himself.

The man in the picture was shaved bald. He had a distinctly non-regulation goatee covering his chin and upper lip. The man had clearly taken some liberties with the leeway often afforded to special forces soldiers.

And ONI assassins, John thought with a scowl.

The console continued to display Jameson Locke's face. John continued to stare at it. He memorized every feature. Every crease and line. Every blemish.

John stared at Locke's image long into the night.

Sorry for the delay, folks.

Note: Last time I said this chapter would largely be set up for the Sanghelios arc. Unfortunately, time and pacing have made me a liar. I just couldn't justify cramming more exposition into a chapter that included the funeral scene. Next time will definitely have more set-up, though. Maybe even a fight scene.

Note: In canon, most of the named characters are aware of the true origins of the Spartan II program. I always thought that was stupid, particularly because it never actually leads to anything. Everyone just sort of goes along with it. The most reaction anyone really gives is Commander Palmer, who gets pissy and blames the whole thing on Dr. Halsey. I decided to retcon it here.

Note: Yes, that was a Firefly reference. Nathan Fillion is in the game. How could I resist?

Note: Another piece of the puzzle that is Locke falls into place. This one is heavily inspired by the 'All Hail' trailer.

Note: Locke's perspective on heroes is similar to my own, although I'm a lot less cynical about it. I think heroism is a real thing and people can and do act heroically. However, the way we remember heroes has normally been through a rose-colored filter. Acts get exaggerated, faults and vices get downplayed or forgotten. It doesn't necessarily diminish the heroic deeds people performed, but it can present an inaccurate picture of the individuals themselves. This is true in every nation and region in human history.

Note: Some of you might be worried, after the ending of this chapter, that John is going to join Cortana on her 'conquer the galaxy' plan. Don't worry, this won't be happening. In fact, I've cut that plotline entirely. Cortana will not be a villain in this fic in any way, shape, or form. She will be relevant and I won't spoil how, but not in the way the game did things. Seriously, screw Halo 5's plot. Freaking character assassination at its finest.

Thanks for reading. Love you guys.

Slipspace Anomaly