Chapter 24: The Hunt Begins Again

The sound of sangheili shouts emanated from a large, circular tent toward the side of the landing pad. Burgundy crates of equipment and provisions were stacked up next to the shelter. Unggoy laborers were preparing to load them aboard the Lich transport ship that would be ferrying Blue Team and their hosts around for the foreseeable future.

Whatever argument was taking place within the tent continued to mount as the Spartans approached. The sounds of countless past battles threatened to bury Kelly as she heard the alien language grow louder. It may have been automatically translated by her armor's software, but she could still hear the guttural warbles of the sangheili tongue. It was a sound she had heard on countless planets over the course of her career. On countless battlefields. She pushed back against the memories. The sangheili were their allies, now.

The Spartan tasted bile. To Kelly, the sangheili would never truly be allies. They would certainly never be friends. She had seen too many humans, too many civilians, too many defenseless children slaughtered by the alien warriors to ever be comfortable around them. She would prefer to have no interaction with them at all.

Still, the Master Chief had given her her orders. They were to cooperate. For now.

"It has taken months to approve this voyage. Months!" a sangheili shouted. Blue Team entered the tent and saw 2 of the saurian aliens facing each other over a table. One was clearly military, wearing the plain burgundy armor of a low-ranking soldier, with a bit of scarlet mixed in at various places. Probably their equivalent of a lieutenant.

The other sangheili was something entirely different. This one was not wearing armor at all. Rather, he was dressed in form-fitting clothing including a vest, pants, and compact electronic devices on both wrists. Every piece of clothing contained multiple pouches and straps, including the backpack resting on the table. The clothing was colored burgundy, naturally, but it was also clearly not designed for combat. He resembled some kind of camper or field researcher.

He was also the one shouting.

"The Arbiter agreed to authorize an academic expedition!" he said, loudly. "It is meant to gather knowledge and advance our society, not further a war we are already well on our way to winning!"

This must be our illustrious host, Kelly thought.

Cham 'Khebrem was a sangheili academic and medical doctor. He was one of the leaders of the Reclamation Movement, a group dedicated to rediscovering aspects of advanced civilization that had been neglected or cast aside during the time of the old Covenant. He and his comrades argued that the San 'Shyuum, the alien race that filled the religious leadership caste of Covenant society, had deliberately crippled sangheili culture through centuries of cultural manipulation and indoctrination. Sangheili culture prior to the Covenant was supposedly a very different, vibrant thing.

The Reclamation Movement was dedicated to both proving this thesis and rediscovering lost arts. This extended into all aspects of civilization, from agriculture to poetry. Apparently, 'Khebrem had been pushing for an expedition to investigate ancient sangheili ruins to find information that had been lost to time. They would also search for herbs and other natural resources that could potentially have medicinal uses for the sangheili. It had been next to impossible to get the resources necessary for such a venture with the civil war in full swing.

Now that the war seemed to be winding down, the Movement had been able to convince the Arbiter to lend them the use of a Lich transport as well as several warriors and the necessary armaments to keep the scientific staff safe. The ruins they would be investigating were in Swords of Sanghelios territory, but the Storm Covenant had taken to using small strike teams to penetrate the Arbiter's lands and attack unseen. The Swords' leadership had spun it as a policy born of desperation, a sign of the Storm's impending defeat, but it did jeopardize anyone straying from the more secure areas.

Like Blue Team.

The Spartans would be tagging along with the academics/social reformists. They would use scanning equipment to search for readings like they had on Meridian. Unlike on the colony world—a world the sangheili had glassed into oblivion, Kelly remembered with a scowl—there were references to what could be the Guardian in ancient sangheili texts. Thus, they would also keep an eye out for any additional information they found in the ancient temples, fortresses, etc.

Apparently, the lead researcher was not happy about this development.

The sangheili soldier's mandibles were clinging tightly to his face. He was clearly unhappy about being yelled at. The fact that 'Khebrem was an academic, not a warrior, doubtless added to the sting of humiliation. "I understand your frustration," the soldier said tersely, "but the Arbiter's orders are clear. This is an essential mission that the Spartans have brought to our attention." He held up a 4-digit hand to stave off another round of argument. "This is not a matter up for debate, loreseeker. We all have our part to play in the Arbiter's grand vision."

Now it was 'Khebrem's turn to pull his mandibles tight. "Of course. As the Arbiter wills." The soldier did not salute before he left. Apparently, an academic was not worthy of the honor, no matter his tenure. Instead he simply nodded at 'Khebrem and walked out of the tent.

'Khebrem turned and regarded the quartet of human super-soldiers. They all stared right back. The alien sighed and steeled his features.

"I am Cham 'Khebrem, Grandmaster of the Guild of Historians and a Council Member of the Guild of Healers."

"I am Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117, or Master Chief," the Chief replied. "This is Blue One, Blue Two, and Blue Three," he said, gesturing toward each of the Spartans in turn.

'Khebrem tilted his head. He spoke quietly and swiftly, seemingly to himself, saying, "Responds in ranks and designations rather than names. Indicates prioritization of professionalism over individual glory. Also shows lack of trust, likely stemming from past martial interactions with sangheili. Still willing to cooperate regardless of past. Interesting..."

Kelly grew uncomfortable.

"I suppose you will require provisions?" their host asked, coming back to the present.

"We have our own supplies. Enough solid food for a few weeks, at least," the Master Chief responded. This would expend the last of the provisions from the Argent Moon, but it was necessary. Sangheili food was theoretically edible by humans but the bacteria and other micro-organisms present in the local cuisine would produce an immuno-reaction in the human's bodies. The last thing any of them wanted to deal with was getting diarrhea in their armor. The Chief continued, "We will require purified water, however."

Their host nodded. "I suppose I should count my blessings," he said, waving toward the entrance of the tent. "Instruct my assistants where your supplies are so that we may load them onto our transport and be off. We have wasted enough valuable time as it is."

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The preparations for the mission weren't even complete before the Master Chief was fighting off an aggressive alien.

"I said absolutely not!" he said resolutely.

The hovering alien seemed undeterred. Its tentacles, tipped with deceptively powerful cilia, reached for his visor. Frustrated, the Chief leveled his assault rifle at it. All of the aliens present froze. The warriors drew their weapons and aimed them at the Chief. Blue Team drew their own firearms in response.

The creature was a huragok, the alien race nicknamed 'engineers' by humanity during the Human-Covenant War. They were bulbous in shape, with a long neck and six-eyed head that looked like a mutated lizard tail. Several tentacles extended from its ventral side, 4 of which were capable of splitting into microscopically fine cilia with which it interacted with the world. They were unparalleled in their mechanical aptitude, able to come to a master-level understanding of nearly any machine or system within minutes. They were even able to use their tentacles to interface directly with computer systems, downloading and storing data within their own bodies. It was theorized that they were not natural lifeforms at all but rather were bio-engineered by the Forerunners. Whatever their origins, they had formed the backbone of the old Covenant's engineering corps.

Unfortunately, the huragok's brilliance did not extend to social graces. Some were even incapable of understanding speech, relying upon electronically relayed instructions. The vast majority of them were unable to understand even basic social conventions. Such as 'personal space'.

The huragok in question seemed untroubled by the assault rifle leveled directly at its floating form. It bobbed slightly in the wind, the gas-filled bladders on its back keeping it aloft. One of its tentacles reached out and touched the barrel of the Chief's weapon inquisitively.

"It would be wise to allow Reaches-Far-Quickly to examine your armor," 'Khebrem interjected. "He only wishes to repair the damage it has clearly sustained. I assure you, it will be in good hands."

The Master Chief shook his head. "Unacceptable. This is classified UNSC technology. I cannot and will not allow any non-UNSC personnel access to its inner workings."

The huragok, apparently named 'Reaches-Far-Quickly', was becoming engrossed in examining the Chief's rifle. The Chief backed up several steps. The huragok followed him.

'Khebrem sighed once again. He pulled out some sort of crystalline device from his pocket. "Reaches-Far-Quickly! Puzzle!" he said, holding the device aloft.

The effect was immediate. The huragok abandoned its examination of the assault rifle and giddily floated over to the academic. It snatched the device out of the sangheili's hand and hovered off to the side, its tentacles readjusting the labyrinthine components of its new object of fascination.

"I find treats work far more effectively than harsh words when it comes to our most valued technician," 'Khebrem chuckled. "That puzzle box is one of his favorites. It will keep him occupied for a few minutes, at least." His face took on what the Chief supposed was a serious expression. "I pray you will excuse his audacity. His curiosity can get the better of him, as his name suggests. I will endeavor to keep him in line from this moment forward."

The Master Chief nodded and lowered his weapon to aim at the ground. The rest of Blue Team followed his lead. The sangheili warriors hesitated a moment, but lowered their weapons as well. The situation was diffused. They all went back to preparing for their journey.

Theoretically, there was no reason for the Chief to refuse the huragok's assistance. Back during the War one of its brethren had actually performed that very service, repairing his armor following the battles on Reach and Halo Installation-04. Unfortunately, allies or not, the Spartan was not about to allow foreign science personnel access to state-of-the-art UNSC equipment. The loss of any technological edge was just too high a price. Even the huragok POW that had once repaired his armor during the War had to be immediately executed to prevent the loss of secrets. Somehow, he doubted that killing 'Reaches-Far-Quickly' would be conductive to the current mission.

This was also why the Forerunner teleportation equipment he had used on Biko would no longer be of use. The device had stopped functioning immediately after he had used it to enter the embassy; Linda had been unable to even access the cursed thing. There was a high probability that the hurgok might be able to handle it, but the Chief still held out the hope that he could get it back to human hands before having to share it with anyone else.

The preparations took a few more hours to complete. Once finished, the expedition immediately boarded their vessel and took off. The hunt was on once again.

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sp3ct3r101: *I don't know. The Chief is a hero and all, but even heroes can turn bad.*

The response to his forum post was immediate and divided.

frakker332: *Screw off, ya Inner Colony shill. Where were you when the Chief was defending our asses from the Covies? Prick.*

manos129: *Damn right they can fall. Mutated freaks get way too much hype, imo.*

r0man227 manos129 *WTF is wrong with you?! Spartans are augmented, not mutated. You see any of 'em with 3 arms? And who the hell do you think you are, talking about heroes like that? What have you done to protect humanity?*

On and on it went. Some defended the Chief's name while others attacked it. One of the most common dividing lines was, once again, Inner Colony vs. Outer Colony. The Outer Colonies were the ones hardest hit during the War. They were the ones who needed heroes the most and, therefore, were the ones who latched on to the legend of the Spartan IIs the hardest. The more secure Inner Colonists were less committed to the super-soldiers.

Locke sighed and logged off of waypoint, the modern evolution of the internet. While not life-threatening, this was definitely the most demeaning duty ONI Command had ever assigned him. Writing forum posts trying to further the smear job on the Chief was something normally reserved for other, lower ranking ONI personnel. There were legions of the unassuming cubicle mice toiling away, trying to influence public opinion from behind anonymous usernames.

Maybe Command wanted to punish Locke for his failure on Meridian.

The smear campaign made sense. Given Osiris' failure to stop the Spartan IIs on Meridian, Command couldn't guarantee that Blue Team's rebellion would stay secret. They needed to mitigate whatever effects that may ripple outward. Locke had to admit it was a good idea.

Unfortunately, framing the Chief had sparked a lot of unrest. Tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface were now being brought out, the argument over Chief's guilt or innocence proving an adequate venue to channel frustrations. It wasn't just limited to waypoint forums, either. Reports of unrest were coming in from across UEG space. Genuinely life-threatening peril was being produced.

Locke wondered how many people Command was willing to kill to keep up their charade.

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The city Heliopolis on the world Charybdis II was engulfed in a food riot. Provisions had been running short for months. People were hungry, cranky, and eager to vent their frustrations. Outer Colonist refugees and native born Inner Colonists were practically snarling at each other, tensions were so high. The supposedly legitimate video of the Master Chief murdering diplomats had pushed everyone over the edge.

Car alarms and the sound of smashed glass echoed clearly into the empty street. Veronica Dare grimaced. The riot was getting closer.

This was definitely one of the riskier stunts she'd ever pulled. Technically, her mission on Charybdis II had already been completed. In fact, in her official logs she would claim to have spent the day resting up in the ONI safe-house located across the city.

In reality, Veronica Dare was spending her time hunting the truth.

The recording of the Master Chief's supposed embassy attack was fake. Dare had recognized the signs immediately. The darker corners of waypoint were already ripping it to shreds. Strangely, none of the mainstream media outlets were reporting on the blatant fraud. This was worrying. It could suggest a high-ranking conspiracy, maybe even one from within ONI itself.

Dare knew better than to bring her concerns to her superiors. She had seen too many of her colleagues be reassigned to posts in the path of the Covenant war machine after asking...inconvenient questions. Open curiosity about other sections of ONI had become a terminal condition over the past half-century. If she wanted the truth, she'd have to find it herself.

Thus, she had contacted an outside source. One that she had never quite gotten around to informing her superiors about. She had received a reply from the civilian hacker in a remarkably short amount of time. After she had deciphered the waypoint jargon that seemed unique only to him, Dare realized that he may have information that could blow this thing wide open.

Transferring the information digitally was too risky. At least, that's what the contact said. Dare suspected her source was suffering a bout of the paranoia that made him so useful most of the time. He said he would leave a compad containing the intel in a low-income apartment complex for Dare to pick up. It was a risk, but if this panned out she could be well on her way to getting the answers she needed.

The architecture of the city got progressively more monochromatic as she went deeper into the low income neighborhoods. Square buildings of bare concrete and brick dominated, broken up only by the near-omnipresent graffiti. Various forms of litter and assorted detritus cluttered the sides of the road. Dare pulled her vehicle into a parking lot. She had deliberately chosen a low quality model with faded paint and dents to ensure it blended in with the other vehicles. There was nothing pristine in the borough she was venturing into.

Before exiting the vehicle, Dare took a moment to quadruple-check her appearance in the rear-view mirror. She was wearing plain clothes, carefully worn down to give a weathered look, and her real hair was hidden by a wig. With a headset covering her eyes, it would be difficult for a passive scan to get an ID on her. A more thorough examination would see right through the disguise, but short of reconstructive surgery there wasn't anything she could do about that. She just had to hope that the surveillance satellites were too distracted by the riots to pay any attention to this area.

It took several minutes for the intelligence agent to make her way to the target building. She ducked into alleys and scaled fences, keeping an ever-watchful eye out for tails. Eventually she was satisfied that she was alone and made her way to her destination.

The apartment complex was run down, as expected. Dare made careful examination of the potential exits in case things went south. It was times like this that part of her regretted urging Buck to accept the offer to join the Spartan corps. His team of ODSTs had been rather useful as a cat's paw for Dare's more risky ops. Still, she knew that Buck could do more good as a Spartan than as an ODST and she wasn't about to stifle his potential. The super-soldier division was where he belonged.

Besides, her husband's augmentations did tend to make their reunions more...entertaining.

Dare shook her head and refocused on the mission. This was no time to get lost in such thoughts.

The headset she was wearing allowed her to access and unlock one of the side doors. It resembled a merge between a bulky pair of sunglasses and a pair of headphones and it was deliberately crafted to resemble civilian headsets. People would wear them in order to access waypoint, watch videos, or even play AR video games. At first, Command had worried that the abnormally large size of the gear would stand out. Fortunately, fashion trends had shifted so that bulky headsets were now in style. Some models even contained bits of weighty metal that served no other purpose than to increase the weight of the device and thus give the appearance of higher quality. Dare's model was fairly standard in appearance.

She hacked into the building's security system, taking care to create a back door in case she was locked out. She looked through the video feed of each of the building's security cameras as she ascended the stairs. No one else was walking the halls. The news of the riot had doubtless lead most of the residents to barricade themselves inside and hope to weather the storm. She only saw one individual, a teenager, staring out a window just to the right of the stairwell. Maybe he couldn't get a good enough view from wherever he called home; given the bruises visible on his face, maybe this was just a safer place to be, riot or not. Dare gave him a wide berth. He didn't seem to notice her.

At last, she reached her destination. The ONI Agent activated the scanning functions of her headset. She was greeted by a solid wall. The room must be insulated against scanners. This had to be the place.

Dare knelt, pretending to tie her shoes, and snaked a fiber-optic probe under the door. She saw an empty single room apartment. No one was home. As expected. She got up and input the door code the hacker had sent her. The lock turned green. She opened the door.

Scan-resistant sheets were literally tacked onto every wall, as well as the floor and ceiling. Bare furniture and empty shelves dotted the single room. There were no possessions or signs of habitation. Maybe the hacker had cleared out. Dare looked over the room...

There!

A compad was resting on the floor on the far wall. Dare walked over and activated it. The compad chimed an annoying tune and demanded that she type the password and 'put it in me'. Goddamn civvies...

Before she could even access the data, her headset flashed an alert. Someone had cut her off from the security system. A jamming signal was likewise preventing any external calls. A monotone voice came over the building's PA system.

"Attention residents, this is the Heliopolis Police Department. I repeat, this is the HPD. There is a dangerous fugitive inside your building. Please remain indoors while we conduct a search. We thank you for your cooperation."

Dare pocketed the compad and drew her suppressed pistol. It only took a moment to push past the jamming and access the backdoor she had installed. This was not her first field op.

The first thing she noticed was that all of the apartment doors had been remotely locked. No one could leave their homes if they wanted to. The PA message was probably meant to make her panic.

The second thing she noticed was the team of armed soldiers making their way up the stairwell toward her location. They wore black body armor that was devoid of any insignia as well as full wrap-around helmets. The armor was padded, eliminating any chance of identifying the individuals by body type. Their visors were polarized, blocking their faces. They were as anonymous as a human could be. Dare recognized them instantly.

Night Watch.

Publicly, it was a private military corporation that sold its services to various corporations desiring additional security for colony projects. In reality, it was ONI's private division of wet works operatives. They were the people Command sent on missions that even the most fanatical ODST would consider morally unsound. They were psychotic thugs with government paychecks. People like Dare weren't even supposed to know they existed, but that hadn't stopped her from finding out.

It seemed that the question of whether ONI was involved in the conspiracy had just been answered.

Dare tied a bandana around her face on the off chance that ONI didn't know she was the one looking into things. The virus she had uploaded earlier should destroy any visual record of her appearance. She drew her combat knife. This was going to get messy. She tracked the hostiles over the building's security system.

A team of 3 NW operatives entered the floor Dare was on. The teenager from before barely had time to notice them before he was gunned down by a suppressed submachine gun. No witnesses. Dare fought down a spike of rage.

At least she wouldn't have to feel guilty about any of this.

The power went out. The lights suddenly turned off without warning. The apartment was covered in pitch darkness, the sunlight blocked by the scan-resistant sheets over the windows. Dare activated the enhanced light mode on her headset.

The operatives took position on either side of the door. One slung his assault rifle and prepped both a breaching charge and a flash-bang grenade. Rather professional, all things considered. Dare moved to the side of the door, her pistol in her right hand and her combat knife in her left. She tensed in preparation.

The door exploded inward. It was swiftly followed by the flash-bang.

A burst of light filled the room along with a deafening noise. Any unprotected human would be momentarily disoriented, their brains thrown off balance by the sudden sensory overload. This would provide a momentary advantage that could prove all the difference in a combat situation.

Fortunately for Dare, her headset automatically shielded her from both effects.

A NW operative rushed into the room.

Dare fired once.

The bullet penetrated the thin armor covering the operative's neck. Blood spurted both out of the hole and upward into the man's helmet. He dropped his weapon and clutched at his neck, trying in vain to stem the blood flow.

One down.

Another operative rushed into the room, right behind the first. Before he could even register the shot, Dare fired again.

This bullet punched through a gap in one of the air intakes on the bottom-rear of his helmet. His head jerked as the bullet passed through his skull and ricocheted off the interior of his headgear. He collapsed to the ground.

Two down.

At this point, operative number 3 had become aware of Dare's presence. He lunged into a roll, narrowly avoiding her shot. The operative rolled to a stop, readied his weapon-

Dare kicked the man's weapon aside and tackled him to the ground. He struggled for a moment before Dare managed to insert her combat knife into the seam connecting his neck armor to his helmet. A few wrenches back and forth and operative number 3 was down.

Silence descended upon the room. Aside from the twitching and gurgling of the dying men, obviously.

Dare checked the security feed, now occupying the upper-left corner of her vision. She cycled through the various cameras. It was difficult to make anything out in the emergency lighting, but she eventually located the rest of the enemy combatants. There were 3 NW's in the primary stairwell as well as 2 in both secondary stairwells. A standard 10-man squad. Now that their advance team had failed, they would probably try to ambush her once she tried to leave.

One of operatives was looking at a screen built into his wrist. He froze momentarily. His body language showed intense anxiety. Dare smiled. She knew they were viewing the same camera feeds she was.

The NWs became even more agitated when she cut them off from the system. These thugs were way out of their league. Dare grabbed a couple flash-bangs from the dead operatives before leaving the room. She moved silently through the hall, keeping an eye on the motion tracker on the bottom-left of her vision.

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Twenty minutes later all of the Night Watch operatives were dead and Dare had slipped out of the building. She made her way back to her vehicle, stopping frequently to see if she was being followed. She wasn't. She entered her vehicle and started down the road just before the rioters got there. A few rocks bounced off the rear window and bumper. She wondered what they would make of the dead operatives if they found them.

The hacker's compad felt like it was burning a hole in her vest's inner pocket. She would access it as soon as she got somewhere safe. Which would not be the ONI safe-house. She couldn't take the risk that Command was on to her. If they weren't, she would have to come up with some kind of cover to avoid suspicion. For the moment, she was on her own.

Whatever data the hacker found had better be worth it.

Note: In the main game, it's passingly mentioned that the Arbiter is changing the way sangheili society has operated by allowing females into the military. Before the game's launch I took that to mean that the Arbiter was a bit of a social reformist. This would make sense considering how the Prophet's betrayed him and his species. Then the game came out and that one passing mention was literally all we got. Sigh. I'll be expanding on that idea here.

Note: I hope I'm not laying it on too thick with the whole 'Blue Team doesn't trust aliens' thing. They're not bigots or anything, but it's important to remember that they spent nearly 30 years fighting the Covenant. Things between them and any sangheili are going to be to be tense.

Note: Up till now, I have tried to have Kelly be the most emotionally healthy and cognizant member of Blue Team. However, I think that such a person would probably be hit all the harder by the horrors of the Human-Covenant War. She would be the one to harbor the most hard feelings toward the sangheili, imo.

Note: Some readers have complained that I'm making ONI too cartoonishly evil. I think they probably have a point, hence my decision to expand on Veronica Dare's role. My ONI has been sliding down the slope into evil for decades and has fully embraced Orwellian ideals. I think the idea that ONI Command used the Covenant to get rid of any agents that challenged their insanity is a pretty good explanation for how things could get so bad. Not to mention the fact that they were pretty evil before the Covenant even showed up, as evidenced by the Spartan II project. Also, it's important to remember that ONI's current activities aren't necessarily sustainable. They were probably well on their way to self-destruction before the events of this story even started. The question is whether they'll take all of humanity down with them, or if the heroes will be able to stop them before it's too late. Thoughts?

Thanks for reading. Love you guys.

Slipspace Anomaly