A/N: My wife went for a girl's time out with my mom, so while they are getting their nails done I can get another few parts up! I see that a few of you have tried to guess the Covenant ship, but no one has gotten it yet. We'll see them more in the next chapter, but for the meantime I'll give you guys one really big hint: Harvest has seen this ship before. Happy guessing!

Today, I thought you all might like some humor with all the seriousness, so I bring you a pair of non-canon omakes! First up is a guest submission by GBscientist on the Spacebattles forum. The second omake is from yours truly; someone asked what happened to the MAC round Harvest fired in Chapter 1, and it kind of snowballed from there. Chapter 17 will go up in a couple days. Until then, enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned Halo and/or Kantai Collection, I would have a lot more money. But I do not, and so I have not.

Omake #1: "Necessity Is..." (by GBscientist on Spacebattles)

"Ugh," the shipgirl said as she floated face-down on the ocean. Then the sputtered frantically, flopped around until she was upright, and coughed up a lungfull of water. "Shit. I feel like a tried to take on a planet with my face," She complained. "Waaait. Since when do I have a face?" She asked herself, feeling her face with her hands. "Or hands? Or a body for that matter? I'm a ship, not a human! What the hell is going on around here!?"

"Hey! You need any help?" A voice called out. By all signs the voice belonged to someone human, female, and friendly, but such a person was not in evidence. The only things visible in any direction were grey seas and blue skies.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" the confused girl demanded.

"Hi!" the new girl said as she popped to the surface directly in front of the confused girl. "I'm Barb!"

"State your rank and service number!" the confused girl demanded as she whipped up the oversized gun mounted on her right arm to point at Barb.

"Whoa, hey, chill out! I'm friendly, not an Abyssal."

"State your rank and service number!"

"Fine, jeez. USS Barb, SS-220."

"Nope, not possible. Try again," a translucent blue sphere said as it popped into existance over the confused girl's shoulder.

"Holy crap! What is that?" Barb asked as she pointed at the sphere, inadvertently showing off the torpedo tube gauntlets attached to her wrists.

"It's nothing," the confused girl growled.

"What do you mean nothing?!" the sphere demanded.

"Shut up, Alpha. We have no idea what we're dealing with, here," she hissed.

"Well, maybe you don't but I do. There's a massive, unsecured data network on this planet and with a little tweak of your com system . . . Got it! Full internet access via satellite," Alpha gloated.

"Internet?" the confused girl asked.

"Yeah, internet. Didn't you read any of the history texts on Waypoint?" Alpha asked. "Waaaait. Nobody calls their data network the internet except Earth, and every link I can find says that we're on Earth."

"Impossible. We've never even been to the Sol system," the confused girl dismissed.

"Uh oh," Barb interrupted. Now that there was time to look at her closely, the confused girl noted that Barb had long blonde hair tied back in ponytail. Hair that was somehow not wet despite having been submerged only minutes before. "We've got to move. Now. I've got contacts headed in our direction. They must have been attracted by your splash-down, like I was."

"How do you know that? And how am I supposed to leave? I can barely float, much less swim!"

"I know because sonar, now get to your feet and sail, damnit!" Barb shouted before swimming up to the confused girl and pulling her along. "Shit, you're a lot heavier than you look."

"Are you making fun of my mass?"

"If it will help us get moving, then yes!"

"Not to bother you two, but we're out of time," Alpha said.

Barb and the confused girl looked behind themselves to see four Abyssal destroyers facing them, mouths open and guns run out.

"Can I at least know the name of the girl I went out locating?" Barb asked, with a determined look.

"UNSC Mother of Invention," the confused girl replied, resignedly.

"Oooh, you're one of those!" Barb said before ducking behind Mother of Invention.

"Wait, what are you doing," Mother of Invention asked with a glance back at Barb, before whipping her gaze back at the Abyssals just in time to see the first salvo head straight for her face. "Son of a Bit-"

BOOOOM!

Omake #2: "The Deadliest S.O.B. in Space"

UNSC Harvest found herself rather impressed at the sword skills shown by the eyepatch-wearing girl facing off against snakebitch. She smiled at the sword attacks keeping it off balance, and she cheered internally as she used snakebitch's laziness against her, launching a close-range explosive attack. But she winced at the hits eyepatch took, and as snakebitch loomed over her, Harvest realized she was out of time.

She glanced at the charge on her MAC. Eighty-seven percent. It'll have to do. She shouldered the weapon, and taking notes from her compliment of ODST's and Marines, aimed at snakebitch's center mass.

Here goes everything, she thought. Please, let this be enough to get snakebitch's attention away from that ship!

She squeezed the trigger.

*POW!*

Harvest blinked, staring with her mouth half-open as the MAC round obliterated Snakebitch's upper body before continuing on into the heavens. Time seemed to pause for a brief moment, as though reality itself could hardly believe what had happened. What…the hell, Harvest thought. I only meant to distract her!

Eyepatch suddenly grit her teeth, seized her sword in her left hand, and drove it through the snake's head before it could recover from the death of its master. Panting from the exertion put on her obviously damaged state, Eyepatch collapsed back to the surface. She shook her head at the rapidly sinking form of Snakebitch, before turning and calling out to Harvest. Harvest blinked; these figures looked human, but they spoke a language Harvest was unfamiliar with.

Then again, when Harvest tried to introduce herself, it seemed like Eyepatch and her friends didn't understand her, either. Still, they seemed to offer her the chance to come along. Harvest gave a mental shrug; it wasn't like she could communicate with command on her own. Maybe following them would gain her some clues, or maybe even supplies.

As she sailed off, however, she completely forgot about the three-hundred ton ferric tungsten shell she had just fired off at thirty kilometers per second—three times the escape velocity of the gravity well she stood on.

And so the projectile sailed off into the great beyond…

-888-

The figures standing around the planning table scowled. At long last, they were on the cusp of victory; the San 'Shyuum Civil War was finally almost at an end. Only one thousand or so of the Reformist heretics remained. Unfortunately, said holdout had barricaded themselves inside the figure's holiest of places: the great dreadnought of the Gods.

"Do these heretics know no bounds?" one figure cried. "With their very presence they defile the sacred site. We must remove them!"

"Of course we must remove them, but how?" another figure snarled in frustration. "We cannot simply assault up the passageway—confined to a narrow entrance will only play into their hands. We shall be massacred, and they shall but laugh at us. We must make another entrance!"

"You wish to deface our most holy relic? How dare you!"

"I wish our most holy relics' return from the clutches of the unbelievers! But studiously avoiding damage at this point only plays into their hands. We must do whatever it takes to liberate it; surely a tiny bit of superficial damage would be preferable to whatever they have planned for it!"

"My fellow Stoics, please! Arguing will get us nowhere. We must come up with some plan—" The figures suddenly ceased speaking and grabbed any support they could find as the very ground shook beneath their feet.

The shaking finally subsided with a loud crack, but a great and terrific roar still filled the air around them. A guard dashed into the conference. "Hierarchs! The Relic! Hurry!"

The figures dashed outside, only to come to a screeching halt. "No…" the figures muttered in utter horror. "No! You heretical fools!"

The ship of the gods was moving. Overwhelmed with sorrow and fury, the not-quite-so Stoic San 'Shyuum could only stare as the Reformists made away with their most holy relic, slowly climbing into the heavens.

Many years later, recounting the event from their memories to the holy scribes, the figures would testify that a spear of light shot out of the clouds and impacted the dreadnought directly at the joint where one of its legs connected to the main body. The mighty ship, struck in such a suspiciously convenient unarmored spot, was gutted, crashing back down to the planet's surface in a heap of mangled metal and dead heretics.

All the while, the San 'Shyuum outside could only stare.

-888-

The young figure pressed his face against the protective panel that separated the small but surprisingly-heavy object from the viewing public. "I can hardly believe my eyes," the youngling spoke wondrously. "The Spear of Light! I'm looking right at the Spear of Light itself!"

The elder standing behind the youngling smiled at the joy on the younger's face. One of the benefits of working at the Shrine of the Divine Judgment was the opportunity to take one's kin to view what many pilgrims wait years for the chance to view. "Indeed, my son. That is the Spear of Light, the exact one sent by the servant of the Gods to smite the unbelievers so many years ago."

"I'm surprised…Forgive my insolence, father, but I am surprised: from the reproduction in our school's chapel, I expected it to be so much bigger."

The elder chuckled. "It is nothing to be ashamed of, my son. Many before you have said the same thing, and many after you will as well. But though small it may be, its power is undeniable. After all, the unbelievers had seized a starship used by the Gods themselves, and yet the Spear laid them low."

"For the tools you use matter little against the purpose for which you use them," the younger intoned. The elder smiled; his child's teacher may occasionally complain of his son's wandering mind, but at least the most important things were getting through. "Father, what are these? The replica at school had no inscriptions on it."

The elder leaned closer to the window, and nodded at his son's confused gaze at the hieroglyphs carved into the side of the Spear facing the window. "Those sigils are exactly what our ancestors found inscribed in the Spear so long ago." He leaned his arm over his son's shoulder, pointing at the symbols that, in a language unknown to the San 'Shyuum, read "42546754/32577309/MAC MISRIAH ARMORY". "Scholars have wondered over their meaning ever since. To this day, no one is certain of the meaning of the first two sequences, but after them you can see the name of our Savior, the wrath of the Gods made manifest."

"MAC is the Judgment of the Righteous," his son breathed. He whirled around. "Dad, I'm going to be a Scholar when I grow up, just you see! I'll finally decipher the sigils, and bring yet more of MAC's wisdom to our people!" He threw his arms around his father.

Desperately trying to disguise the tear of pride falling down his cheek, the father returned his son's hug. They stayed in their embrace for a long time. The elder cracked one eye slightly, sending a quick prayer to the Forerunners that he might live to see his son's success. In the name of your servant in our time of need, our Savior MAC, Amen.

"Um, Father?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Can…we go get something to eat?"

The elder laughed. Younglings, always requiring sustenance! He turned off the lights to the exhibit and made their way towards the exit.

"You know, son, if you want to be a Scholar, you're going to need to bring your grades up."

"Dad!" the youngling groaned.