Chapter CCXVI: Vacillations

October 24, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/four days later

UNSC In Amber Clad, Slipspace [Unknown destination]

"I think we're just getting started."- Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

Three and a half days I had been in this fucking lump of metal. Three and a half days of Earth vulnerable to follow-up Covenant attacks. Nobody knew anything, but I was no idiot. If fifteen Covenant ships had made their way to Earth they had been all but pulverized by the ODPs, but if they hadn't sent out their location or let anybody know which particular coordinates they'd be visiting then God Himself had had a direct hand in that event.

Rarely was our beloved deity so nice to us, which meant that Earth was in the middle of a royally screwed up battle fifteen times worse than Reach had been in. How many billions had been killed already? How many innocents had suffered at the hands of the Covenant? I know that just my presence wouldn't have turned the tide of the battle, not a battle of that scale at least, but I could certainly help and give it my best. But here we were, stuck in a ship while the largest battle in the history of the universe unfolded in our home world.

"Frank, you seem tense," Pavel noted.

I blinked twice. "Yeah, sorry."

"There's nothing we can do now," he said, reading my mind. "All I can do is hope that the ship with my wife on it turned right back around."

"If we survive we'll have hell to go through just to find them," I told him. "I mean, does the captain reasonably expect us not to exit slipspace in the middle of a Covenant fleet?"

My friend shrugged. It was very unlike himself to give such a small shrug, but bedridden as he was he couldn't do much more than that. Snark was worse though, his heart had barely survived the impact and when we got him on the table he was already dead. The doctor managed to revive him and get him conscious for a few minutes, but then for some reason or other they had to put him in a medically induced coma until he healed. Seven days, he had said when I asked him today. Pavel, on the other hand, had only received a damaged lung, broken ribs, and a shattered shoulder blade. All he had needed was a little bit of surgery in the front, a little bit of surgery in the back and he'd be as good as new. The fractured shoulder blade would take a while to completely heal, but the bone-growth fluids would be completely finished in a week and a half. Until then he should take it easy.

"Let's just hope that doesn't happen," Pavel said. "And we've fought our way out of worse situations, it shouldn't be too hard to come up with something."

"I hear Phantoms have slipspace drives," I offered. "And with the Chief here, well, anything is possible."

Pavel snorted. "And here I took you for a cynic. Do you remember what you said to him the first time you saw him?"

I nodded.

"Asshole," Pavel said.

I smiled. "Well, those were the days. Everything was black and white."

"Everything is still black and white," he reminded me. "They try to shoot us and we beat them to pulp. No prisoners, no surrender."

"Good point," I agreed. "Anyways, how's the shoulder?"

"Good. It's the lung that hurts. It's still hard to breathe."

"Ah well," I sighed. "At least you're alive."

"Indeed I am," he said. "It'll take more than that to kill me."

I squeezed his good shoulder. "I know, big guy… I'll leave you to it, I've got to talk to Keyes now. Bitch finally decided to let me have it. Keep an eye on Snark for me, will ya?"

"Kid hasn't moved in ages, I'm pretty sure I can handle that. And Frank… don't give her a reason to throw you in the brig."

"I'll try," I said. "I'll try."

Like always, I had been provided with a uniform. It wasn't the typical uniform that I tended to wear, but a regular Marine officer variant would do for now. It was fancy, but not nearly as utilitarian as that of the ODST. Well, it was better than walking around in just my undersuit. Johnson had been actively trying to get me and my team some spare Helljumper fatigues, but the ship didn't seem to have any spares and the complement on board wasn't willing to share theirs. That thought gave me a little bit of a pause, making me wonder why the frigate had such an oversized ODST complement.

Not that I would mind during combat, but the pissing contests were just annoying. I hated to think that I had been one of the instigators back in the day, hell, for the most part I still was.

I alternated between ignoring the stares I got from personnel crossing the hallways or shooting them glares that would've made Marina proud. For some reason that I couldn't fathom (I'm lying, I knew the reason) we were seen as outsiders. That previous parenthesis I put in the last sentence refers to the little incident where I forced a Pelican pilot to bring us into the ship despite regulations against it. Normally that wouldn't have been a big deal seeing as it meant two of Earth's best were now alive and would fight again, but apparently I had drawn my sidearm and aimed it at the pilot's head.

That worried me. I had no memory of doing that, but it didn't surprise me in the least that I had done it. Schitzo had made some cryptic references to such an event.

Once I was immediately outside the captain's quarters I took a deep breath and knocked, making my presence known.

"Ah, Lieutenant Castillo, Commander Keyes is waiting for you."

"Thanks Cortana," I told the AI as it opened the door for me. I had a brief flashback to Eliza and the Inconvenience. It was the same layout that Captain Brooks' quarters had, down to the same utilitarian furniture. Captain Keyes was seated behind a wooden desk, she was looking tired, but was avidly reading something on her terminal. I clasped my hands behind my back and cracked my neck to the left. It came off as douchier than I would've liked, but you can't please everyone.

First thing I had noticed about Commander Keyes was that she was pretty attractive, today she didn't look nearly as good as when I had first seen her, but I could picture myself ramming her from behind.

"Some pent up sexual aggression there, huh?" Schitzo asked. "Shit man."

"Lieutenant," she said, not looking up. "Have a seat."

"Ma'am," I said, moving forward to sit down across her.

"I assume you know why you're here?"

"To discuss the circumstances that find me on your ship."

She stopped reading and closed her terminal. "That is correct."

I met her gaze evenly but otherwise made no move to continue the conversation.

"A lot of my men here dislike you," she eventually said. "Not only because you forced your way in here at gunpoint when a little bit more insistence would've done it."

"Two of my best and oldest friends were dying, ma'am. With all due respect, I would have shot your pilot in the head if that meant they would survive. Fortunately that wasn't necessary."

Keyes looked in my eyes, that intensity turning into irritation.

"Cortana," she said.

"Lieutenant Francisco Castillo, UNSC Marine Corps. Went through ODST basic on Mars, 19th Battalion. First deployment was in Eden, we all know how that went, and then it's all just black ink. I could tell you more, but I can't access the fleet records because of our current situation. All I can find right now is that he is in the roster of the Asymmetrical Action Group, Team-7."

"Black ink," Keyes said, tasting the words in her mouth. "Somehow word got around the ship."

"I blame Johnson," the AI jumped in.

"And now the ODSTs think you're an upjumped Helljumper that thinks he's too good for them. There's a Spartan on board too, which means tensions are running high, but they can't take it out on a Spartan, he would kill them in the blink of an eye."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"When did military life turn into a soap opera?" Cortana mused out loud.

I had to agree with the construct.

"Does that resentment extend to Navy personnel?" I asked, obviously meant to gauge how she felt about my presence here.

"No. Not for the most part, at least. Some of the flyboys obviously dislike you, you threatened their friend. That in itself would have been enough to put you in the brig, I too stand by my men." She paused and then examined me more carefully. "Fortunately for you, you had Sergeant Major Johnson vouch for you. And the Chief."

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. I didn't expect him to remember me at all.

"The Master Chief? What did he say?"

Keyes allowed herself a small smile. "That he had worked with you and so had some of his fellow Spartans."

So just the fact that he could remember me by name was what had kept me from being arrested by the MPs then. I could do worse. In fact, I was beginning to feel strangely elated at the thought of the hero of humanity remembering my name. To imagine that a decade ago I would've retched at the thought of that.

"You'll be absorbed into the ODST complement," she said, interrupting my train of thought. "You're going to be following whatever orders you're given."

"Yes ma'am," I said. "If I may say so, my men's talents could be better used if-"

"We already have a Spartan, Lieutenant. And I would take Sergeant Johnson over you any day of the week."

I frowned but stopped. To be fair, the man had beat me in a fair and square boxing match. Not a lot of people could've claimed such a feat.

"Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am."

"And Castillo, don't cause any trouble."

I turned back around before walking out. "And if trouble finds me?"

Keyes shrugged.

"Well, I could use a show," Cortana put in cheekily.

Yeah, she definitely had shades of Eliza.

November 1, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/one week later

UNSC In Amber Clad, Slipspace [Unknown destination]

"How's it feeling?" I asked Snark.

"You can never really tell with these holographic ranges," he replied, still prone. "I don't think I'm fully a hundred percent yet, though."

He had been put out of his coma two days ago, less time than expected, but he had only been let out of bed this morning. Not that I hadn't insisted to the doctor, but the man had been adamant. Snark had needed multiple surgeries to get his heart working again. He wasn't exactly happy with the scars either.

"Doctor said three days of no strenuous activity," I reminded him.

"That's why we're using fake bullets with no recoil," he grunted angrily. "If I could get the fucker that got me."

"Yeah, we know," I said. "Same fucker shot Pavel too, remember?"

"Yes, sir."

"How are you feeling?"

He sighed. "Not well to be honest, my chest is still sore. I think the scars aren't properly healed yet."

"Inside?"

"Doesn't feel weird to be honest. I might take a light jog later, test myself."

"Make sure to take someone with you," I said. "Dotsenko or Longworth might be ideal."

"Lots of tension, huh?"

I nodded slowly.

"Have you killed anyone yet?" he asked. "You seem like you need to, El-tee."

"Not yet. I haven't even gotten in a fight yet. Not thanks to the lack of them trying…"

"They're trying to get you to instigate?"

"It's been a rough week."

"You can always get John and Natasha spar with you, kick the living shit out of them. They can't do anything to you then."

"It's John now?" I asked. "Not Crow? That prick?"

Snark said nothing and I didn't press him. He probably had gone too far to have any chance at ever being friends with Crow ever again, but at least he seemed like he'd thought about it a bit more.

"Alright, let's go."

"So soon?" he asked.

"Yeah, we've got schedules for the range."

Snark scoffed. "I'm kind of surprised the rules apply to us."

"Tell me about it," I said.

The firing range door opened just as Snark picked up his rifle. Five men in black fatigues walked in. I couldn't help but inwardly groan at the sight of them. Then my inward groan had an inward groan of itself when I realized that I was seeing ODSTs and I was seeing them as the enemy. Two of them on the edge put their heads close to each other and whispered something.

I wasn't surprised then one of them bumped into me. Hard.

"Watch it," I growled.

"What did you say?" the man asked, obviously happy that I was finally reacting.

I turned around and looked at him, getting close so that the height difference was that more obvious. "I said: watch it."

"Really? What are you going to do about it?"

The four men prepared themselves to beat the living shit out of Snark and me, or at least to try. Fortunately for them, I had had one full week to come up with all the possible alternatives to this conversation. Pop culture tended to influence the way people talked, and if I knew something I knew Helljumpers. It was simply a matter of trying to think of all the things that I would've said in their situation.

"Well, I'm going to let you throw the first punch and then I will break your arm in three different spots. If your friends decide to join then I will leave them peeing out of a fucking tube."

It was as close as you could get to telling them to go fuck themselves without using those actual words. In fact, I think my own words might've been a bit worse. They had directly wounded his pride and dared them to try and punch me. That's why I was surprised when I didn't immediately get clocked in the face. Evidently someone had talked to these Helljumpers and told them not to initiate a fight with me. I doubt that it had been because they would end up losing, but maybe Keyes had made personally sure everybody would keep calm. Especially if we considered the very real possibility that we'd likely end up crashing into an assault carrier in a desperate attempt to storm the ship and thus save ourselves.

"It's the most likely possibility," Schitzo said.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Snark asked the other ODST.

The four men tightened their fists and for a moment the tension in the air was high, but they miraculously backed down. I had used the word miracle and its derivations at least thirty times in the last three years, but if I had to pick one time that I would assign the word's actual meaning to, it would certainly be this situation. They had the numerical advantage and the reason to go against us; I still have no idea why they decided to back down. Nobody would've blamed them if they hadn't. Nobody.

I considered throwing the punch, it felt very anticlimactic, but in the end cooler heads prevailed. That's not a phrase that one uses very often in the presence of Helljumpers.

"Let's go for that jog," I told Snark once we were out of earshot. "Some of the guys were in the gym."

"Who?" he asked.

"Not sure," I admitted. "Tash is probably struggling to make her ass as great as Cam's, Longworth and Miri might be there too."

"How's Pavel doing, by the way?" he asked.

"He's taking it easy," I replied. "Doctor's orders."

The ship felt crowded. Nobody at all had been put in cryo. It made sense, after all, we could come out of slipspace any moment with just a few minutes' warning. We had two separate drills as well as a couple of EVA missions to the outside of the slipspace bubble. From what we could tell, there were several pieces of Mombasa in here with us, mostly cars and some debris, but pieces of buildings had been brought along for the ride as well. I hadn't seen any pictures or footage, but it hardly seemed logical to make stuff like that up for the sake of lying. Interestingly though, the assault carrier was only barely detectable as a blip. Slipspace was weird, and we could only be thankful that we hadn't been made just yet and hopefully we would remain hiding for the remainder of the trip.

"I suddenly don't feel like a run," Snark muttered when he saw just how crowded the ship's gym was.

I had to agree with him. In a ship full of restless men and women, the gym was the obvious destination for many of them. You had your bulkier Marines benching and then you had your more wiry ones going at a fairly fast pace in the treadmills. A few guys were using the boxing ring for sparring and yet some others were using machines and free weights. I stood near the entrance for a few seconds until I spotted Natasha and Miri. Both of them were doing leg extensions, go figure.

I acknowledged them with a small nod and then started moving towards one of the unoccupied treadmills. A couple of men shot me dirty looks as I walked past them, but that was the extent of the hostility, at least for now.

"Aight, hop on," I ordered Snark.

He began at a slow jog before settling into a more speedy pace, the one that you'd expect on a distance runner.

"How is it?"

"Good," he replied. "Chest hurts a bit."

"That's to be expected," I said. "Scars haven't completely healed."

"It's not my heart then?"

"I wouldn't expect so."

Snark kept running for a few more minutes, giving me periodic reports of his situation. I asked him to speed up some and slow down some and all seemed to be fine. He did look a little bit more strained than usual, but for the most part all he could complain about was the aching from the scars, his heart was working properly and pumping blood like it should've.

"Ok, give me some sprints and stops," I said. "Fast, fast, fast."

He nodded and tapped a few commands on the console of the treadmill. There was already some sweat forming around his forehead and his breathing was slightly heavier than it had been, but for the most part he seemed fine.

"Shouldn't I stretch?"

"Do you stretch before combat?" I asked.

"If I get a heads up yeah."

I tilted my head slightly sideways and crossed my arms.

"Fine."

He kept at a jog for a few more seconds and then sped up, slowly at first before suddenly exploding. The sensors on the machine moved the fabric under his feet accordingly and kept up with him. I looked in approval as he ran the designated one hundred meters. He clocked in at 10.9 seconds. Not overly impressive considering just how athletic you had to be to become an ODST, let alone an AAG operator, but it would do. He frowned at his slow time and then stopped as the treadmill abruptly slowed down.

This wasn't anybody's favorite mode on the machine, it made slamming into the front a very real possibility, but it was excellent for explosiveness training when you just didn't have the room or didn't feel like running around in the hangars in plain view.

"Again."

He sped up again, this time clocking a more respectable 10.8 seconds for one hundred meters. That in itself was impressive, seeing as he had just done a full sprint and had just gotten out of a hospital bed this morning. He slammed his feet down repeatedly and slowed himself down before settling once again into a nice jog, this time his chest was rapidly rising and falling.

"How's that feel?"

"A little bit worse than usual," he admitted. "But it's been a while since I last did that."

"Sounds to me like you're all cleared for action," I said. "If the need arises of course."

"What do you mean?" he asked, stepping out of the treadmill.

"Odds are we'll get vaporized as soon as we leave slipspace," I said. "We're sharing a bubble with an assault carrier."

Snark paused. He had obviously considered it, but nobody here wanted to think about it.

"Why'd the captain go ahead with that decision?" he asked me.

"I can't speak for Commander Keyes," I replied. "But I can't say I agree with her decision to abandon Earth."

I realized then that our little conversation was probably one we should be having in private, especially considering the loyalty that Keyes' men seemed to have for her. I had heard about her before this incident, and not only because of her more renowned father. If you made a name for yourself in the UNSC Navy, then odds were you could kick some ass in space combat. That naturally meant your men would be proud of serving with you and would be even prouder to defend anyone questioning your integrity.

Navy boys have it easy…

"No they don't," Schitzo said, reminding me of their sacrifices in orbit. The Navy always fought to the last ship, knowing full well that they'd be annihilated.

"Well, you need some rest," I told Snark, slapping his upper arm. "How about you head to your quarters. And take those pills they gave you."

"Yes, sir."

Sometimes I would phrase orders like questions just for the hell of it.

"Where's the rest of the team?" I asked Miri as I approached her and Natasha.

"Gunny's got some of them doing drills," she replied. "For being smartasses."

"How'd you two get away from that?" I asked.

They both looked at each other and shrugged.

"Is everyone with Pavel?"

Natasha nodded.

It was hard to keep from noticing how attractive the two of them were. I oftentimes let my eyes wander when around them and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I think that any hot-blooded male would be ashamed not to look at them when they were wearing workout clothes. Natasha was used to it and basked in the attention, ignoring the guys and sometimes bending over a bit too much. Miranda was used to it and became her old shy self and would blush slightly and look away nervously. Please, like she didn't know everybody here wanted to fuck her.

At least when they were doing leg extensions on the machine they didn't bend forward or backward, so the male crowd was not overly interested in them at the moment. It's not like the guys were incredibly overt about it too, they might've enjoyed sneaking a peek or two, but they didn't want to get caught. It was all part of the game.

"Life would be so much easier if everyone just fucked everyone," Schitzo mused.

"Has anyone been giving you shit?" I asked, my voice quieter.

Miranda shook her head, but Natasha took a little bit longer to do the same.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"Nothing, but sometimes I feel like a certain group of Helljumpers wants to jump me."

I nodded to myself slowly. She not only was an AAG operator, she was also a Special Warfare Operator, Navy. That meant there was not a shred of camaraderie between her and the Helljumpers. I had been wondering why there was so much antagonism between them and us. It wasn't completely out of the norm, everyone knew ODSTs were notoriously unstable and would tweak at the slightest perceived offense. However, it wasn't very often that so much shit was given to a group that was mostly Helljumpers from various units.

"Think they are angry about abandoning Earth?" I asked myself.

"And they're taking it out on us?" Miranda asked back.

"That and the fact that El-tee held someone at gunpoint to board this ship," Natasha helpfully added.

A glare wiped the grin from her face, but she did have a point.

"Do you think a fight would solve things?" she asked. "Get things out of their system?"
I raised an eyebrow. Tash might've been an arrogant bitch in the truest sense of the word, but she knew damn well that I could pretty much kill anything short of a brute with my bare hands. A measly ODST wasn't going to give me a run for my money, not even close. If I fought and won against four guys it could either make a statement or just make us bigger targets. That's how it worked with us Helljumpers, we were always one step away from going postal.

After that brief talk I decided to stay in the gym and do my workout. I typically did that a few hours later into the day with Pavel or Dotsenko, but I might as well kill some time. Like always I started with bench pressing. I kept it on a reasonable level for a guy my size. Well, I might've been overdoing it a little bit with two 45-pound plates on either side to start, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. I did incline and decline with less weight and then switched the target muscle. It was dull stuff, but it was also something that calmed me down.

I was almost done with the workout, working on some crazy awesome biceps, when Pavel and Dotsenko walked into the gym. Pavel looked like he always did and Dotsenko was evidently tired and had a lingering look of annoyance in his face. I chuckled when I realized that Pavel must've been tiring them out just for kicks. He could say what he wanted, but Pavel was also a mean son of a bitch.

"What's that you're laughing at?" an ODST asked me threateningly.

"Your fucking face," I snapped back. "If I hear you talking like that to a superior officer ever again I will make sure you can't laugh at anything at all."

The speed and viciousness of my reply threw him out of balance. I was ready for him to fight me. I wanted him to fight me. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) a commotion on the other end of the room distracted him.

This is where the unfortunate part comes in.

I had been so focused on not losing control and snapping someone's neck that I had assumed none of my men would be the ones to find themselves in that situation. I turned just in time to see Dotsenko, in his 250 pounds of glory, slug an ODST that he had at least 40 pounds on. The poor man flew across the floor and slammed into a rack of dumbbells, knocking the smaller ones to the floor and grunting as the air was knocked out of him.

Pavel had to step backwards in order to avoid being seized by two other men and put up a nice boxing guard, ready for anything. I could tell he wasn't happy about the situation, especially with his still-healing chest and shoulder.

Dotsenko, having the virtue of initiating the fight, was targeted. Two men rushed at him. One punched him and was blocked, the other connected a nice solid jab to the chin. Dotsenko reeled backwards and was saved as Pavel barged in, palming a guy's shirt, shoving him into the other one and then taking another step back. I saw a multitude of ODSTs begin to rush my two friends and I started running to join them.

A strong arm stopped me. I began to turn around with the intent to kill until I saw the one and only Avery Johnson. He had aged considerably since I last saw him. It looked like he had been through worse hells than I had. He chomped on an unlit cigar and shook his head before dragging the cigar out of his mouth.

"Let it play out."

I turned back around and saw Dotsenko struggling to fend off a Helljumper, kneeing him in the ribs and receiving a flurry of hits to the side of the face in response. Pavel was faring slightly better. He was still one of the best hand-to-hand fighters that I knew, having the virtue of knowing what you were going to do before even you did. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he ducked under a hook from a female ODST and then came up with an uppercut, knocking her out.

"Equal opportunity violence, eh?" Johnson muttered, referencing the ages old joke from when women were finally put into the same training (and by extension, sparring) units as men. "I like him."

Dotsenko shook off the man, using his considerable weight to lift him off the ground and then slam him into the mirror behind him, cracking it visibly and leaving a not insignificant amount of blood there.

"Uh oh," I muttered, clenching my fists.

"I'll stop it," Johnson told me as he began approaching the commotion.

It took us about ten seconds to get there. Pavel got kicked in the leg hard, Dotsenko received a vicious strike to the nose that drew a lot of blood and another hard punch to the right eyebrow, coloring his face red. He gave as good as he got though, hitting the ODST that had wounded him three times in the face before the man could rip himself from Dotsenko's grip.

Things started getting a little bit too violent and finally Pavel put an end to things when he managed to catch Dotsenko's opponent by the neck, kick him in the side of the knee and bring him down. Pavel didn't let go, keeping the man on his knees and squeezing the side of his neck hard. With his free hand he reached for a 50-pound dumbbell and raised it above his head, as if to bring it down on the man's skull and kill him.

"Enough!" he shouted, kneeing the guy in the solar plexus for good measure.

A fight was all good and well, but nobody wanted to clean up brains from the floor.

Three ODSTs began circling Pavel and Dotsenko.

"Think you can hold that up forever?" one of them asked.

"Exactly, you dipshit," Dotsenko growled through his broken nose. "Where do you think it's going to fall down?"

The ODST that was on the floor looked up nervously, not attempting to get out of Pavel's vise grip on his neck.

"Alright boys, what seems to be the issue here?" Johnson suddenly boomed. "Did somebody steal someone else's lunch?"

The reaction was interesting to say the least. Some of the guys looked stunned at the broken silence and everybody was confused, myself included.

"Aw, don't tell me you've got a scuffle between Orbital Drop Shock Troopers?" he asked, his voice loud and his syllables clearly enunciated. "The way I see it, three of you stupid dipshits tripped and put some blood on this prime quality equipment!"

I looked at the weights, they looked at least a couple of decades old. They had probably trickled down from bigger ships' gyms over the years.

"Back in my day we didn't have the benefit of gyms! If you wanted to work out you'd go to the hangar and help the flyboys load and unload their Pelican's guns. Manually!"

That did seem a little bit far-fetched. Although the process could be done manually, the machinery for it was so simple and the ammo so heavy that it was just ludicrous to think that someone would actually load a Pelican manually.

Suddenly I found myself very impressed by Pavel's ability to hold the weight above his head for such an extended period of time.

"Now ya'll are going to get up and brush yourselves up some. When someone asks you why you don't look so pretty you'll tell them that you ran into a doorknob."
Ships didn't have doorknobs. Doorknobs were actually strange sights in any given location.

"And that the doorknob punched you back for being so goddamn clumsy!" he added. His voice then took a more threatening and serious tone. "Or so help me God I will personally see that each person here has to use crutches to walk for the rest of his life."

There was a short silence.

"Put the weight down," I ordered Pavel.

He complied, letting it fall down loudly next to the man he was holding, who let out an audible sound of relief.

"Let him go," I added.

Pavel didn't disappoint, shoving the poor man forward so that he was on all fours before kicking him in the ass. There were some mutterings and Johnson glanced at me sideways, but for the most part nobody reacted. I began taking in the damage. Numbers along would call this fight a certain victory for my team, considering that Pavel had knocked out one person and put another one out of the fight while Dotsenko had eliminated one opponent and hurt another two.

On the other hand Dotsenko was bleeding badly and his face would be swollen for the next couple of days. Pavel himself hadn't escaped completely unscathed, with a big black eye already forming as well as clutching his lower right side slightly. I don't think he had any broken ribs, but he was obviously in pain.

"Now everyone who happened to get assaulted by a doorknob will be leaving this gymnasium right now!" Johnson ordered.

He had a commanding voice and an even more commanding presence. The people in the ship must've worked with him before, because all the Helljumpers complied with his order without even bothering to complain. They certainly knew how much of a badass Johnson was. If there's one thing that ODSTs respect, it's the level of badass someone else has. Now that they knew that my two men were quite badass indeed, badass enough to fend off multiple attackers simultaneously, maybe they'd leave them alone.

"Thanks," I whispered to Johnson as people began vacating the premises or returning to their workouts respectively.

"Anytime, marine," he replied. "Now be sure to instill in your men some good old-fashioned knowledge about what the word restraint means."

"Will do Sarge."

Johnson gave me a curt nod before heading out of the gym himself.

"El-tee they-" Dotsenko began.

"Can it," I cut him off. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

Pavel and Dotsenko were leaning back on lounge chairs and icing their respective injuries. Dotsenko's whole face was swollen but it was already beginning to subside. Pavel looked simply annoyed and winced every now and then as the bag over his eye shifted and put too much pressure on the bruise. His side seemed to be fine and fortunately for him none of the stitches had given. It was too late for something like that to happen, the doctor had cleared him for physical activity in the morning after all.

The rest of the team stood around them, arms crossed or clasped behind their backs. They all seemed pretty laid back when everything was considered, but I had just given them a good dressing down after the little incident earlier today. The impact was lessened by the fact that I couldn't really do anything too bad to them in a ship I was unfamiliar with. Instead I had decided to make them all check out their pistols from the armory and assemble them and disassemble them repeatedly. It sounds like an easy job, especially considered that the pistols only have a few pieces nowadays in order to make such a process as simple as possible. They didn't count on me getting them a set of screwdrivers to completely disassemble them before going back at it again.

Pavel and Dotsenko would have to suffer through their injuries as punishment for now. Maybe get a few resentful glares as punishment. In truth, this was done not to show those two what they shouldn't do, I knew they wouldn't get in a fight again. It was to make sure the rest of the team didn't make the same mistake.

"Why do you think we haven't seen the Chief?" Crow asked Longworth.

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe he doesn't want to walk around in public with everyone gaping?" Natasha said. "You're an idiot, John."

"Does anybody want to do this with sniper rifles?" I asked. "Because it seems like you do."

They all immediately quieted down and resumed their meticulous operation. I planned to keep them doing that well into the early morning hours, but just before midnight the alarms started blaring. My men looked at me and assembled their guns with unprecedented speed before joining me and running towards our rooms to get our armor. Hundreds of men were going in all directions through the hallways. However, everything was very orderly, with most people keeping to the right and letting traffic flow smoothly. The alarms kept blaring all the while, a loud and annoying noise in the background.

Everyone stopped briefly when they felt the ship exit slipspace. There was a noticeable look of worry in all faces as we expected to be blown up by the assault carrier, but when that didn't happen we kept going. I had my men in their armor in record time. Crow had replaced his old chest piece with an ODST variant and both Snark and Pavel had new armor for their torsos. It was always interesting to see the mix and match of armor that we wore, sometimes we didn't even have time to paint them all the same color scheme that we wanted, but today we were all in ODST black no matter what branch we came from.

"Frank, are we on the drop bay?" Pavel asked.

"Negative," I replied. "Not right now."

"We're on standby," Grass said. "Master Chief's got point on this one."

I suddenly realized how I now no longer thought of her as Cam or of Lady as Natasha. They were now called by their call signs. Even Caboose was no longer Grigori, but Snark was always Snark. I think he liked it better than Naveen.

"We're stationed in Hangar C," I said. "Let's go back down."

As we moved towards the elevators we came across the Master Chief. Everyone stopped to let the imposing figure pass. He shot me an almost imperceptible nod before keeping on walking, a cadre of Helljumpers led by Sergeant Johnson at his back. Looks like they were the ones that had the honor of fighting alongside Chief. I felt a pang of jealousy.

"Let's move," I ordered, breaking the spell.

The hangar was full of Marines and some Helljumpers. I knew that the ship had a battalion of regular Marines on board minus a few casualties taken at Mombasa plus a company of ODSTs. It was a little bit over the norm for a Stalwart-class frigate, but that's around what your typical Charon-class frigate would carry with it. I looked to either side and saw that all the starboard hangars were not closed off, allowing freedom of movement amongst them.

"Listen up!" I shouted at my men. "I want full assault loads. Rucksacks on, ammunition heavy. Knives, guns, the works. We are going to be participating in this party and we're going to be the ones everybody will talk about the next morning."

My men rushed to the ammunition cart and began loading themselves with additional magazines. I checked my battle rifle, pulling back the slide and making sure that there was a bullet in the chamber. It was one of the few HB versions on board the ship, but I had managed to snag it for myself. I missed the grenade launcher that I had used a few times in Reach, but experimental weaponry is uncommon. Hence the term experimental.

My rifle, a heavy pistol, my three knives, and grenades. I had no secondary weapon today. Caboose, on the other hand, carried his MA5K, his M90 shotgun, and a pistol. Crow was laden with an M41 rocket launcher and an MA5K. Lady had her usual MA5C and an SMG, Grass had an MA5B, much less accurate than Lady's version, but it had twice as many rounds, making it almost a downsized machine gun. It was funny; she was also carrying a machete that was strapped to her right thigh, under her sidearm's holster. I hadn't seen her make use of that in years. Longworth and Miranda carried DMRs with an extremely oversized ammunition load and their sidearms. Snark kept to his usual SRS and SMG loadout. Pavel didn't surprise anybody and neither did Dotsenko, getting an M247L and a SAW respectively. We were carrying a bit more weaponry than was the norm for a squad our size. It wasn't the amount of weaponry however, it was the diversity.

"Lieutenant Castillo?"

"The one and only," I replied, turning around.

"Chief Warrant Officer Kwan," the Pelican pilot introduced himself, shaking my hand firmly. "Taxman."

"Pleasure," I replied. "You'll be flying us around?"

"For the time being, yes," he said. "As long as there's no guns pointed in my face I should be fine."

"That shouldn't be a problem," I replied. "How long have you been flying for, son?"

"Eight years," he said. "Started doing combat missions right out of flight school."

"You can pick up my men under heavy combat zones?"

"Better than anybody else."

"Hmmm, we'll see," I replied. "I look forward to working with you."

"Thanks, El-tee."

I couldn't help but notice that he didn't reply in kind, but then again, I had aimed a gun at his friend's face. I really wished I had a recollection of that.

"Attention all personnel. Attention all personnel."

The hangar immediately quieted down.

"We've come out of slipspace into an unknown solar system, designation: Coelest. There appears to be no Covenant presence other than that of the primary target. The carrier is moving towards the fourth planet in the system and an artificial object that is orbiting. The object in question is ring shaped with a diameter of approximately 10,000 kilometers and width of around 318 kilometers."
That was very large. If the Covenant had built something this large it was bound to be incredibly important.

"The object is not of Covenant origin."

"What the hell?" Longworth burst.

Murmuring flooded the hangar. If yet another alien civilization entered the fray it could very well mean the end of our race or victory for us. Not of Covenant origin… It also seemed unusual that the voice speaking didn't belong to Cortana. She was the ship's AI, after all.

"Two primary targets have been located. Squad leaders and commanding officers are receiving briefings that they will relay to their men. Pilots and other support personnel will receive the appropriate information. All ground forces prepare for combat operations within an hour."

It was a long announcement, but I was grateful for the information, even if it raised more questions than it answered.

"El-tee, what the hell was that all about?" Crow asked me. "Another alien race, that's the last thing we need!"

"They could be friendly," Grass pointed out, not sounding too convinced at all.

Lady chortled.

"Quiet down," I ordered. "Form up."

My men sighed as one before lazily moving into a line, facing me.

I received a datapad from one of the hangar knuckle-draggers and dismissed him. I opened it and went through the first couple of paragraphs, taking in only the important words. There was a picture of the object in question at the cover. It was a massive ring. There's pretty much no other way to describe it. Massive in the truest sense of the word. It wasn't massive like your traditional ringworld, which surrounded a sun along an orbital plane, but it was massive nonetheless.

"Listen up," I began. "The object in question is designated Delta Halo."

That name arose more questions than it answered. Why not just Halo? I mean, if it was the first one that we found it made more sense… Shit… No, calm yourself down, no need to jump to theories.

"Preliminary scans indicate Earthlike environment, survivable without pressure suits. Environments range from arctic to tropical… Regular air pressure, gravity akin to that of Reach… Ok, we're going to be fighting in familiar ground then, nothing to be worried about."

The men breathed with relief. Fighting in low or heavy G was hell, there was a reason very few colonies were established on small moons, not only was it bad for the inhabitants, but it completely messed up the logistics.

"Information is scarce at the moment," I read on. "Obviously. Two targets have been located. The first one is directly under the enemy assault carrier, designation: Temple."

I examined the bad-quality picture that came with it. It had obviously been taken by an unmanned probe, but it showed the edge of the carrier and a small construction in the middle of a lake. Another picture zoomed further in was grainy, but it gave more details on the design of the Temple.

"The second target's designation is Library," I said. "Its size indicates that it is a building of importance. That and the presence of a wall surrounding it make it a valuable asset to the UNSC. "

The picture that came with that was strangely of good quality. I couldn't help but notice that it seemed to have been taken by an in-atmosphere drone. If we had already put those in there… no, that was impossible, maybe it was a rendering.

"Delta Halo, Francisco," Schitzo whispered in my ear.

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta… I asked myself. Alpha, Beta, Delta?

Shit. This was some top secret shit.

My mind was brought back to an incident that had happened years ago. Pavel and I had been brought down a shaft that dug deep into the crust of a planet that had been attacked. I tried remembering its name but failed. There was an installation there that couldn't have possibly been built by humans. Not unless a wonky wealthy man had decided to create a whole new architectural design with cutting edge technology. No, even back then the Covenant had fought ferociously to keep that place. Pavel and I had long known that we weren't alone in the universe, it wasn't just us and the covvies, there were bound to be more, but it was hard to believe that there was another race that could build this ring and we hadn't come across them yet. Not this ring, these rings.

"Questions?"

All hands shot up.

"Good, I'll give you our mission specifics when I get them."

There were no further developments for the next half hour. I could tell that we dropped off the Chief and the ODSTs following him. I saw Johnson walking towards a Pelican and hopping inside as a Warthog was attached to the back. The hangar he was on was sealed off and the Pelican took off. A minute later the walls came down and a tank rolled into the hangar.

"What was that all about?" Crow asked to himself.

"Probably providing support to the ground troops," Longworth replied. "If they're going to need a tank then I assume that the Covenant have had time to fortify their positions."

The alarms blared again, this time the sound was the one made to signal the word for deployment.

"Hop in everybody!" Taxman shouted. "Everyone on board!"

My men rushed into the cargo bay and I was partially surprised when the same boy that had handed me a datapad told me that an ammunition ground drone would be coming with us. There was going to be one with most ODST-laden Pelicans.

"We have orders to strap some vehicles and set them down on the surface. It seems like you're going to have the pleasure of having a Scorpion tanker on the craft with you."

"Sounds good, make it fast."

The Scorpion was attached in a matter of seconds and the driver then hopped off, jumping into the Pelican with us. I watched as every single Marine jumped on board one of the Pelicans before letting the remote drone roll past me and into the cargo bay. I followed it and gave the word for my men to secure it. The smallest accident and that thing would become 600 pounds of death as it rocked around the compartment.

The rear hatch closed just as the walls began separating the starboard hangars from one another. The Pelican was dark and we were only illuminated by the red lights on the ceiling.

"You excited, sir?" the tanker asked me.

"Concerned is the word I would use," I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I didn't get to see any action on Earth," he said. "My tank was undergoing some maintenance and they couldn't get it ready for action in time. I hope there's prime tank terrain down there."

"I hope not," I disagreed.

He chuckled. "Good point, sir."

"For what it's worth," Snark chimed in as he ran his hands along his sniper rifle. "I hope there's prime tank terrain there too."

The sound of air escaping the hangar made its way through the Pelican walls before we shot forward and then gravity was gone. I felt the contents of my stomach move around before they sort of settled. It had been worse than other times, but it was still something I could handle.

"ETA fifty seconds," the pilot called over. "Atmosphere reentry might be a bit rocky."

The entrance was no rockier than usual, with the Pelican heating up as expected and then shaking as it went through layers of air that got progressively thicker. It did seem strange, however, because the whole experience took a lot less time than you'd expect on a rocky planet.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Grass muttered.

I received a message from the In Amber Clad. It was our mission briefing. Certain teams would be moving forward to scout and engage some minor Covenant presence fifty kilometers off the Library. We would be making a quick pit stop near a hill with very prominent slopes in order to establish a temporary base of operations. We would be dropping the Scorpion and its operator at the base before moving up.

I transmitted the information to my men, who simply listened to what I had to say with silent expressions. The tanker nodded repeatedly and smiled to himself. He was a bit too eager for my taste.

I got up and moved towards the cockpit, eager to examine the surface of this ring. Taxman turned his head to look at me before returning his attention to the landscape. It didn't seem much stranger than any planet I had stepped on. The surface underneath us consisted of slopes and small, rolling hills. It reminded me a little bit of the Scottish countryside without the mountains. Except for one tall, sharp hill, everything was beautifully green. There were no artificial structures visible anywhere around, it was all perfectly pristine. To our left flew four other Pelicans and to our right just one. That was the only presence of anything not natural.

Until you looked up, that is. I could see the sides of the ring extending upwards and then meeting directly overhead, 10,000 kilometers away from where we were. If you didn't look sideways it looked almost like an arch. You could see cloud formations, oceans, deserts, and forests on the surface of the ring.

"Well, well," I said as Taxman set his bird down. "Ain't that something."

Thanks to Colonel-Commissar2468 and General TheDyingTitan for proofreading this chapter.

Well, we finally made it to the artifact that provides the title to the series. Halo. Not the first Halo, but a Halo nonetheless. Personally speaking I was always intrigued by Delta Halo, compared to the first one this had a certain aura of mystery that the other one just didn't despite the fact that it's the second one. Why, you may ask. Well, because we saw the first Halo and know that it was perfectly well-preserved, but this one has ruins and damaged surface. Whatever could've happened to cause that? Well, you know damn well why it's in ruins. Still, there's a very important side of this Halo that wasn't particularly explored in the games. Remember how Johnson and Keyes make it to the index? You think it was just them that breached the Quarantine Zone? Think again. There was a hell of a battle to get there. And I'm going to make sure that this battle is as drawn out as possible. After all, the UNSC was only in Delta Halo for a day and a half tops. Shit will be awesome, mostly because a certain you-know-who shows up. Yeah, that's right.

To put all doubts to rest: Marvin Mobuto is dead. Go to halopedia and look him up. That should explain some things.

Thanks for the kind and pretty much positive reviews that you all gave me for last chapter. I thought it was pretty decent. This one is a little short, but it is filler, after all. I just wanted to make clear a couple of things. First of, the other ODSTs aren't any more of an asshole than Frank and Co. The difference here is that our beloved AAG-7 is an outsider group and the fact that the ship was forced to abandon Earth has tensions high and the obvious target is AAG-7. Couple that with Frank pulling a pistol on a pilot and you've got a recipe for distaster. However, you can't forget that AAG-7 is a whole tier above the regular ODSTs in the In Amber Clad. They kick some serious ass as can tell. I just hope that I didn't make the other ODSTs look like wimps. They are, after all, humanity's best. Second thing I wanted to clear up is the naming of the installation. It doesn't make sense for Keyes or Cortana to reveal that the Halo in question is Installation 05. These things are heavily classified for obvious reasons and they don't want people spreading the word about five or potentially more gigantic rings that can be inhabited.

Other than that I think we're good. If you feel like stopping by the tvtropes page for this fanfic feel free to do that and maybe add some content. Hey, free advertising, right? If not, then that means that you have to automatically leave a lengthy and constructive review. It's the law. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Stay strong.

-casquis