Chapter 3: Under the Shade Tree

Log #5:

I don't exactly remember what year it was when I was sent to track down Corvus, not that it really matters. I guess I should start by explaining who Corvus was. Corvus was an O.N.I asset, deep cover. The man hadn't been seen or heard from in about two years, suddenly he just reappears on a different world leading a massive protest. Their demands were pretty simple. They wanted the UNSC to stop taking so much from the colony. Post war era, pre created crisis. Agri-worlds were getting hit hard by redistribution policies. The protest was peaceful though. Corvus went through all the proper channels to organize it. It actually led to some solid change.

The thing is, O.N.I didn't expect him to pop back up like that. His objective was to lay relatively low for a while and try to blend in with revolutionaries to de-escalate things. He wasn't supposed to become a leader, unlike Fero. So, the Office sends me in. Told me no armor, no explosives, no rifle. Just me and my SOCOM. Find Corvus and secure him, then call for exfil. Thing is, he wasn't even on the planet when I got there. Bugged out just two days after the protest. Left negotiations between the Colonial Authority and the colonists. That fucker led me around the galaxy for two months. Just popping up and disappearing just as fast. By the time I caught up to him, he was in 26 Draconis. That was the first time I'd been there.

I finally find the guy and he's got a hostage. I've got him shouting in one ear, my handler in the other and I don't know what to do. In a moment of clarity, I do the only sane thing. I paint the tent he's in with his own brains. The hostage screamed and then fainted. My handler just flies off the rails, hollering at me about how much paperwork there's gonna be to cover this up, how I failed my objective, blah blah blah. When the dumbass finally calms down, I tell him it was the only way. Corvus had absolutely lost himself. Two years with no reprieve, nothing to keep him grounded. He didn't even respond to his old name. He was absolutely certain that I was there to lock him up or worse. I don't even know where he got the gun, he wasn't supposed to have one. I'll never forget how batshit that guy had gone. I can't imagine literally forgetting who you are like that.

The strange thing is, every planet he went to, changed in some way. He'd show up, rally a protest and then poof. He was gone. I'd resort to tracking down figureheads from the protests and asking if they knew where he'd gone. Corvus had turned into a wandering revolution. Everywhere he went something changed. Labor laws, colonial production quotas, environmental protection, the list goes on. He was the change O.N.I wanted the people to start enacting. O.N.I.'s goal with de-escalation was to turn insurrection to unarmed protests. The issue with Corvus was that he'd gone too far. The Office didn't want political change to actually happen. So, they had to remove him from the equation. In a way, I admire what he did. Spared a lot of lives from being taken in civil war. It's a shame I had to kill him.

June 20th, 2581

26 Draconis System, En Route to Levosia

"Rise and shine ya lazy fucks," Andrew joked as his team climbed out of their cryo tubes. Jaq tried to laugh, but could only cough as her body tried to expel the excess surfactant. "There you go, get it all outta there. Hope your nap was nice, in a few hours we'll be right back to work."

"With all due respect, fuck you." Andrew simply chuckled at Jaq's weak retort.

"Go get showered and dressed. Grab a bite to eat, then meet me in Ops. We'll be arriving on Levosia soon." Andrew left the cryo deck, giving King, Sam and Jaq some privacy.

"Is it just me, or does he have a sense of humor now," Sam asked with labored breaths. Cryo sleep wasn't kind to anyone, not even Spartans. They just took it better than others.

"He's always had a sense of humor. It usually involved threatening to mess with your arm though," King said before spitting out more surfactant.

"What about before I lost the arm?"

"Couldn't really tell you. Remember, we squadded up during the Hundred Day war. We didn't have much to laugh about."

"Right. It's been a long while."

"Look he may have a sense of humor, but the longer we sit here chit chatting the longer he has to wait. Lemme tell you, he wasn't very patient back on Minerva," Jaq cut in. She was already halfway to the door, meanwhile King and Sam were still near their cryo tubes.

Andrew stood near the holotable with his COM pad reading messages he'd received while they were in Slipspace. One was from McKnight stating that she wasn't surprised to hear about his encounter with Kovacs and requesting that next time he handle something like that with more tact. The other message was from Kovacs, an apology and a request to learn more about the team's history. Hearing his team approaching he locked the device and readied his briefing. The other three funneled into the room and stood across from him. "Welcome back to Twenty-Six Draconis, one of the few trinary star systems we've been able to inhabit. We'll be landing on planet Levosia in about an hour thirty. From there we have a meeting with Major McGavin. Upon entering the system our target messaged me a set of coordinates. Sam, King, you two will recognize our destination. We came here back in '66 to eliminate hostile fortifications at a fishing village. With any luck, we'll be heading there peacefully."

"What makes you say that," Jaq inquired.

"The problem is that the village is under insurrection control. No civilian presence. Our job does not require us to get involved with local conflicts. Our meeting with Major McGavin will give us a line of contact with insurrection leadership. From there I'll try to get us safe passage to the village. If we can't come to a peace agreement, we'll slip in under the cover of night using the wharf."

"Why not just march in and take them all down? Makes more sense than peace talks and stealth missions," Sam asked.

Andrew tapped a command into the holotable and let the display turn on. A map of the target area appeared followed by battle lines and troop movements. "You're presently looking at McGavin's plan to retake the village. Whoever controls the village determines where the front lies. If we wait for McGavin to attack, we waste five days and risk the data-pad being destroyed in the initial bombardment. McGavin hopes that we can negotiate our way into the village and then convince the innies to abandon it. Take the village without bloodshed. I understand you don't want to work with these people or even talk to them, Sam, but if we can negotiate a ceasefire and get them to bail out, we can get a step closer to finding Thermer and prevent the local conflict from escalating."

"Are you sure you can pull it off? Not to downplay your public speaking, but you have a reputation for slaughtering these kinds of people. One that they're aware of," King said, crossing his arms.

Andrew shut the display off and leaned against the table. "I've gotta try. I don't want to kill people if I don't have to. If we can get this deal, I need you guys to promise me that you'll keep your fingers off your triggers."

Sam huffed and held his chin. Clearly, he was picking his words. "If you get them to let us pass, I won't be the one to shoot first. If they open fire, I won't hesitate. If you can't get it and we have to frogman in, all bets are off."

"Jaq, King, what about you two?" A moment of silence passed as the two in question looked at each other. They both knew what the other was thinking.

"You've got our support. Like Sam said, if they shoot, we're aiming to kill," Jaq said as she leaned against the table across from Andrew.

"Good. Now, get your gear in check and get ready to suit up. We're hitting the ground in roughly seventy-five minutes." Andrew pushed off the table and headed for the armory.

FOB Dunmoore, Levosia

16:38 Local Time

Fireteam Phoenix exited the Pelican and surveyed their surroundings. FOB Dunmoore wasn't much to look at. The tallest building was a three-story air traffic control tower. Even five days before McGavin's assault the base was alive with activity, supplies were rushed from the air pads to their new homes and teams of troopers went over old gear in preparation. An escort of MPs waited for the team on the ground. "Fireteam Phoenix, the Major is waiting if you'll follow us, please."

The team followed the escort across the base to the command center. Sam decided to break the silence. "So, Andrew, what's up with the skirt?"

Andrew looked back at Sam and then at the belt cape that hung from his waist. Each of the four panels of leather were covered in overlapping black nano-laminate plates. Midway down each panel a strap connected it to the next. "It's a belt cape. It's for blast protection."

"Because MJOLNIR isn't enough?" Sam was confused.

"It wasn't enough when I lost my leg. Back home I don't have MJOLNIR anyways. I'd rather not go diving into war ruins without leg protection," Andrew explained. The belt cape was one of a few personal touches he'd added to the armor including a shemagh and programming the armor's nano-prismatic paint. The armor was solid black and littered with disruptive grass green markings. The likeness of a viper adorned the right shoulder. Its visor was a brilliant silver when polarized. All in all, it suited him well.

"If you haven't noticed, GEN Five is much sturdier than your old suit. You don't really need the extra protection. The shemagh is a nice touch though," Sam continued. While it was true that GEN 5 MJOLNIR was beefed up considerably in comparison to his old GEN 2, Andrew didn't quite trust it to protect his new leg.

"If that's the case, why is the armor on your left arm far heavier than your right," Andrew retorted. He knew Sam wouldn't have a comeback.

"Touché."

"I think it really brings the whole retired Spartan turned adventurer look together. I can imagine with his leather jacket, jeans and boots that it really stands out in a crowd. What about you Brandon," Jaq said amusingly. It was the truth though. She really did think it looked like something that had seen plenty of war ruins.

"I'm just worried his handgun is gonna fall out the back of the holster on it." Andrew reached down, gripped Bunsen's handle and pushed the weapon down through the holster. Bringing it up to his shoulder and pulling the slide back slightly, the team could see that a round had been chambered.

"It makes readying the gun as simple as that," he said nonchalantly as he re-holstered the pistol.

"Remind me not to get in a duel with him," King said to Jaq. The group stopped at a set of double doors.

"The Major is inside, first door on the left. Fair warning, this whole campaign has him on edge," one of the MPs stated.

"Noted," Andrew said as he pushed the doors open. The command center was in stark contrast to the rest of the base. Here it was quiet and calm compared to the hustle and bustle outside. A short distance down the hall was the Major's office. Andrew removed his helmet and clipped it to his rigging using a carabiner. Upon entering what would normally be a spacious office the team found themselves rather cramped. The place was a mess; chairs were out of place; files littered his desk and a few drawers from file cabinets had made a home on the ground. McGavin was pacing along the back wall oblivious to the four Spartans that had just entered. Andrew attempted to get the man's attention. "Major McGavin?"

McGavin's head snapped in their direction disturbingly fast. A brief hint of confusion played across his features before he regained his composure. "Ah yes, Fireteam Phoenix. My apologies for the state of things here."

Andrew crossed the distance and extended his hand. McGavin returned the curt handshake. "No problem at all. I understand organizing a large campaign like this can be stressful. I'm Captain Andrew-G199."

"Yes, I did some reading on you earlier today. You're supposed to be retired, have been for ten years. What made you come back?"

"Someone is targeting the members of our old team and our former leader went missing. With any luck, we'll find him and take down whoever it is that wants us out of the picture." Andrew gave a short explanation. It wasn't the whole truth, but it was enough for now.

"Well as I said before, whatever it is you're after in that town it's surrounded by the enemy. You better hope they're in a friendly sort of mood."

"You mentioned that you've made contact with them for prisoner exchanges in the past. You wouldn't happen to have a few prisoners, would you?"

"I have two. Are you suggesting we hand them over in exchange for what you're after?" McGavin's brow furrowed at the thought.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. Whether I can get them to bug out or not, the battle lines are shifting in five days. That means you have to move the prisoners at some point. If I take them off your hands that's fewer resources you have to expend in the long run."

"That's also leverage I lose if they capture any of my people."

"It's a better chance of them taking my word seriously and getting out of there."

"Spartan King, you think he can pull that off," the Major asked with a hint of irritation.

"I trust that he knows their logic better than any of us. He's been a civvie on a half-glassed world for ten years. He gets whatever emotions drive these people." King crossed his arms. Whatever emotion painted his face couldn't be seen past the Sangheili effigy on his visor.

"I hope this works, for your sake. Here's the frequency you'll need to get in contact with them. If you can arrange a meeting, the prisoners are yours to bargain with. You have five days," the Major said with finality. In his hand was a small data chip designed for use with a COM terminal. Andrew took the chip without hesitation.

"Thank you. I'll have to borrow the conference room. Hopefully we'll be done by tomorrow."

Andrew fiddled with the handle of his plasma knife as he waited for someone on the other side of the front to pick up. Sam and King were playing rock paper scissors over something. Jaq was playing a game on her COM pad. Finally, the display flashed to life and the team was greeted with the face of a woman somewhere in her twenties. "Major, you better have a good reason for- Wait. You're not McGavin."

"And I wasn't expecting the leadership in an insurrection to be such a young lady. I guess we're both pleasantly surprised." Andrew joked.

"No, we're not. You're pleasantly surprised. I'm just irritated that some asshole in fancy armor is wasting my time." Her voice had an accent that Andrew couldn't pin down.

"My name is Andrew-G199. My team and I are here on a search and rescue mission. A fellow Spartan has gone missing and whoever is responsible left a clue for us in that fishing village your people are holding onto so tightly."

"You want to cross the front to search for some clue to find your friend? Either that is the strangest mission you've ever been on or you think I'm stupid. I'm leaning more towards the latter," she said with more than a hint of humor.

"The 'Verse likes to throw curve balls at me. Look, Major McGavin is holding two of your people as prisoners of war. If you agree to let us come there and find what I need, we'll bring the prisoners and release them into your custody. It's a win-win situation if you ask me." Andrew was hoping that she'd bite. Even just a nibble.

"What is it you're looking for?" There it was. Now just to reel it in.

"A data-pad containing a message and the system we can find our next clue in. You were right about this being my strangest mission." Andrew flashed a satisfied grin.

"Tomorrow, oh eight hundred, the field west of the village. My people better be in good condition. We'll see about letting you in after we get the prisoners," she stated.

"Copy that." The COM terminal immediately cut out. "King, Jaq, go make sure we have transportation for tomorrow. Sam you're with me. We're gonna make sure the prisoners are in good shape."

June 21st, 2581

08:00 Local Time

Andrew was in the process of uncuffing the prisoners as the Pelican touched down. Its reaction control thrusters beat the soft grass of the field into the dirt. As soon as the transport was set down Andrew went to the cockpit. "Keep her ready for dust-off at a moment's notice. I don't want us to get trapped here if it goes to shit."

The pilot gave him a short nod and the Spartan made his way back to the troop bay. The landing ramp lowered and the early morning sun flooded the dark interior of the ship. "Let's move out, people. Fingers off the triggers."

The four Spartans escorted the two prisoners from the ship and stood in the field waiting. Two modified flatbeds approached slowly. As soon as the trucks stopped a group of armed insurgents jumped from the beds and approached the Spartans. Sam's voice came over TEAMCOM. "Boss, I'm not liking this. They're looking pretty jumpy."

"Stay calm. Do not give them a reason to open fire." Andrew switched to his outboard speaker, tapping the prisoners on the shoulder before he spoke. "Go on ahead, you two. Your people, in good condition as promised. Now, I'd appreciate it if your friends lowered their weapons."

"How do I know you won't shoot if they do," the woman from the night before asked.

"Because they have orders not to. I'd like to keep this peaceful." Andrew took a cautious step forward as he spoke, measuring the insurgents' reactions.

"Your helmets off, all of them. Then they'll lower their weapons. Call it a trust exercise," the blonde woman said. Andrew was the first to remove his helmet, followed by Jaq, then King and finally Sam. As promised the woman's entourage lowered their rifles.

"Thank you. It just occurred to me that I don't know your name yet."

"Joan," the woman said bluntly.

"Well Joan, I appreciate that you're willing to negotiate today. I'm looking for a data-pad like this. Either someone passed through here and hid it or hired one of your people to hide it. Would've been in the last couple of days." Andrew held up the data-pad Sarah had found in her kitchen.

"I can't say I know anyone that fits the bill. I have a lot of people under my command. We may yet find your clue. Load up on the trucks." Joan turned and waved her escort back to the flat beds. Fireteam Phoenix followed suit and they made their way back to town. "Why attempt to negotiate?"

Andrew looked at Joan and sighed. "I have a secondary objective while I'm here. McGavin wants me to convince you to pack up and fall back from the village. He's planning a massive assault four days from now. He's got Kodiaks ready to bombard the village before naval forces lock down the wharf and ground forces roll in to mop up. He figured that if I could talk my way in here maybe I could convince you to spare the bloodshed."

"And if negotiations failed, what would you have done then?"

"Snuck in at night using the wharf. Kill any guards that might've spotted us, find the pad and then sneak back out. I want to avoid a battle. I just want to find my goddaughter's father and go back to retirement. I put all my chips on this bet," Andrew said, locking eyes with the woman. Her hazel orbs examined him looking for any hint of a lie.

"I appreciate your honesty. Your friends don't seem to share the sentiment though. I can understand that. They're still active duty. The way you said 'back to retirement' leads me to believe you've been a civilian for a while now. Tell me, do you understand the pain of the people?"

"I have been and I do. The UEG doesn't care when the Colonial Authority says the colonies need change. The colonists beg for reform. For production quotas to lighten up. For environmental protections to increase. For so much more. Their cries are met with cold indifference, so they lash out. Their pain channeled to anger. It's why I work so hard to help my community on Tribute. I don't want my home to experience another war."

"Then you understand why I can't just leave this place," Joan said somberly.

"Please, think it over. You have four days before the attack. You can save these people. Live to fight another day." Andrew's face expressed a great amount of concern, something Joan wasn't accustomed to seeing in her enemy's eyes. The flatbed rolled to a stop on the main road of the village. Everyone hopped down from the trucks and Joan pulled one of her men to the side. He promptly escorted the prisoners elsewhere. As Andrew looked about, he found the town to be in much better shape than it had been in 2566. Then again, he was the reason it was in such bad shape back then.

"Andrew, if they're trying to make us relive Phoenix's greatest hits, why didn't Thermer ever stop here," King asked. He had a point. If this person had different plans for them, just what were they playing at? Before he could answer someone came from the crowd and cracked Andrew across the face. Immediately he turned to warn his team not to fire. Looking back at the culprit he saw a middle-aged woman restrained by two of Joan's guards.

"Mind explaining what I did to earn that? Is it the affiliation or something?"

"I'd recognize your face anywhere. You're the bastard who shot Corvus," she hollered.

"Wait? Corvus? What does he have to do with anything?" Andrew was perplexed, he hadn't heard that name over two decades.

"I was the one with him in the tent that night! I was there when you murdered him!"

"Who is Corvus," Joan asked. Andrew raised a finger to silence her. His team looked on in amusement as she glared at him.

"How long have you been here? Have you been here since that night?"

"What?! No, of course not! Someone hired me to come here. I was to transport a data-pad and leave."

"That can't be a coincidence. Look, I wasn't supposed to kill him. It was a snap call I made to save you. I couldn't let an innocent person die just because they got caught up in O.N.I.'s sick game. I regret killing Corvus, but I didn't have much choice. I'm sorry." Andrew watched as the woman's frame sagged in the arms of Joan's guards. He knew what she was feeling; confusion, anger, sadness, she'd never truly moved past that night in the tent under the shade tree.

"Mind explaining that," Joan asked.

"After the war, back in the fifties O.N.I sent a guy to deescalate the revolutionaries on a colony far from here. Can't really remember the name of it. His alias was Corvus," Andrew began to explain as he retraced steps over twenty years old. "Corvus was pretty good about his job at first. Weekly reports and all that jazz. One day he just drops off the radar. They presume either he had to lay low or was dead. Two years go by and suddenly Corvus pops up three star-systems away leading a protest on an agri-world."

"What happened next," Jaq asked.

"They sent me to go look for him. No gear, just my sidearm and a limitless budget. I got to the planet he was on and nothing. He left two days after the protest. I did find out that he had a list of worlds he'd repeat to himself. For almost two months I was a step behind him. I'd get there and he was already gone. Finally, I book passage on a captured Covie freighter and beat him here. Levosia was his next stop and I was finally ahead. I waited for the protest to pass and came to meet him the night before he was due to bug out. There was an unforeseen complication. Someone told him about me. Thought I was an assassin or some shit. I get to his tent and he's got a hostage. He just kept going on and on about how we'll never silence him, never take him in. His message of peace would continue on. My handler wouldn't shut up either. Don't really remember what he was saying to me."

"I see where this is going," King commented.

Andrew stopped in the middle of a park in front of a tree. "He didn't remember his own name anymore. His real name. I remember how scared that woman was. Suddenly there was a moment of clarity."

Andrew raised his hand in the shape of a gun and pointed towards the tree. "Bang. The lady fainted, Corvus's brain painted his tent and my handler flipped his lid. I didn't want to kill him, but I didn't have a choice. This tree was right behind the tent. It was a lot smaller back then."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Sam breathed. Andrew knelt down and picked up a metal ammunition box that rested against the tree. Looking at the trunk he could see the corroded end of the bullet, trapped within its wooden sarcophagus. Opening up the box he found the data-pad.

"This isn't Phoenix's Greatest Hits. They're mine," he said solemnly, running a hand through his hair. "Every time I fucked up or murdered someone. This bastard wants me to remember it all."

"What do we do now big guy," Sam asked concernedly.

"For now, we go back to Dunmoore then to the Duskline. I'll read the message when we get there. Joan, I appreciate your cooperation today. I hope you consider what I told you on the way in." Andrew straightened up, still holding the box. Joan and her group escorted the Spartans back to the Pelican. The ride was dreadfully silent. The team couldn't help but notice how Andrew's visored gaze seemed to stare past everything.

As they spoke a few parting words, Andrew had a creeping feeling like something was wrong with the air. The wind over the field had stopped, but that wasn't it.

CRACK!

One of Joan's men dropped to the ground, his entire shoulder and part of his chest separated from his now lifeless body. Time seemed to slow down as everyone went for their guns. Joan was pulled back from the Spartans and her men opened fire. The team's shields absorbed most of the incoming fire, but they could only hold out for so long. Sam, King and Jaq backpedaled into the Pelican as quickly as they could. Andrew pushed Bunsen through its holster and got off three shots before tossing himself into the Pelican's troop bay. "Let's go!"

The transport ship lurched forward as the pilot put every bit of thrust into getting them as far away from the fight as possible. "None of you guys fired that shot. Right?"

"How could we have? No offense to Jaq, but hitting a shot like that at close range with one of our rifles is near impossible. Not to mention she has to turn hers on first," Sam said.

"If the rifle's report is anything to go by, that shot came from three klicks out. Armor piercing high velocity. Probably an SRS99 Series 7," Jaq said. Suddenly the pelican lurched forward again and began to lose altitude. Andrew rushed to the cockpit, pulled the pilot from their seat and dragged them to the others before rushing back to the cockpit and yanking back on the yoke.

"Dunmoore tower, this is Pelican X-ray Delta Wun Fife Tree Six. Our pilot is injured and we are ten minutes out. Requesting emergency landing permission on pad three left," Andrew said over the ATC frequency.

"X-ray Delta Wun Fife Tree Six, emergency landing at three left confirmed. Maintain current heading and lower to five hundred meters. Await further instructions."

"Copy Dunmoore. Lowering to five hundred and staying the course." Andrew shut the mic off and looked back to the blood tray. "What's the damage?"

"Stray round must've ripped through the pilot's seat. It's only a gut shot but he's already in shock. You may want to hurry up. Even with Biofoam the bleeding is pretty bad," King said quickly.

"Dunmoore tower, X-ray Delta Wun Fife Tree Six, I am increasing velocity. Pilot's injury is more severe than previously thought."

"Confirmed X-ray Delta. Clearing airspace for you." Andrew redlined the Pelican. What would've been a ten-minute flight lasted about four. His landing was as amateur as it got. He'd never been good at setting them down. As soon as the landing ramp came down medics rushed in to collect the injured pilot. Andrew stormed out of the transport ship and made his way to the command center. The team shared a look and took off after him. Andrew's armored boot crashed through the Major's door sending chunks of gypsum careening across the recently cleaned office. The door swung limply on the only hinge it hadn't been ripped from.

"You sonuvabitch! You had no intention to wait five days, did you McGavin?!" Andrew could feel the bipolar integration clawing at the back of his mind. It was like a set of superheated meat hooks tearing at his higher reasoning.

"I don't know what you're talking about," McGavin lied. The 1.75-meter-tall man suddenly found himself eye level with Andrew's visor. The light cast a shadow over the left side of Andrew's helmet and McGavin found himself transfixed on the singular camera affixed to that side of the visor. Its light gleaming through the shadow was extremely intimidating.

"You put a sniper three klicks from the meeting place and had one of Joan's men killed after I got what I was looking for. You wanted us dead. You wanted to use us as martyrs to push your plan ahead of schedule. You put my mission in jeopardy just to get a fuckin' promotion, didn't you!?"

"Fine. I admit it! If they killed Spartans that had come to negotiate their surrender it would've given me cause to push the attack forward. I couldn't pass up an opportunity to get the ball rolling. You don't understand the pressure I'm under here," McGavin choked out his last sentence, crocodile tears coming to his eyes. The man was genuinely terrified though. He could feel the malevolence rolling off Andrew.

"Really? You're under pressure? My goddaughter is at my home right now waiting for me to bring her dad home and someone wants me to relive my worst memories. So, pardon me for not finding A 'VERSE DAMNED REASON TO KEEP YOU ALIVE RIGHT NOW! YOU FUCKIN' RAT!" Andrew had the barrel of his M6C-SOCOM pressed firmly to McGavin's chin. Jaq tugged on his shoulder. His field of view expanded, the claws in the back of his mind receded, the searing heat cooled and his breathing leveled out.

"Hey big guy. You've got four different visor cams recording. We all heard what he said. That's probably enough to get him court martialed. Just drop him and let's go." Andrew released the treacherous Major and walked away. McGavin fell on his ass and watched as Sam, Jaq and Andrew left. King walked right up to the major and put his handgun to the man's throat.

"Count yourself lucky she's much calmer than the rest of us."

UNSC Duskline, Levosia Orbital Shipyard

13:00 Local Time

"Hammond, collect visor cam footage from the four of us and isolate our encounter with Major McGavin. Send it to his commanding officer with a formal request to court martial the Major," Andrew said upon boarding the prowler.

"Yes, sir. I'll get that done right away. There is someone waiting to speak with you in Ops," the AI replied.

"Tell Sloane it can wait. I want to get out of this armor."

"It isn't Sloane, sir. I'm not sure who it is. I've been trying to trace the signal but it's being bounced across hundreds of proxies," the AI explained. His pleasant British accent carried an uncharacteristic tone of confusion. That confusion made Andrew worried. The Spartan took off for the OpCenter in a dead sprint. The weight of his armor and gear shook the deck and as he rounded the corner, passing through the bulkhead into Ops he nearly trampled Captain Sloane.

Looking at the holographic display Andrew was met with someone wearing a simple porcelain mask and a black hood. Whoever it was, they wanted their identity hidden for the time being. "Andrew, it's good to see that the Major's ambition didn't get you killed. I trust you found the data-pad."

"Yeah. Haven't read it yet. I know what you're playing at. Make me face my greatest failures and murders. There aren't many people with unfettered access to my records. So, tell me, who are you?"

"I always knew you were good at finding the truth. Don't bother with the pad, there's nothing on it. You're headed to Trost next. I hope you enjoy your downfall. I know I will," the masked figure said, seemingly happy with themself.

"My downfall was ten years ago. You know, when I lost my leg. Things have been on the up and up since," Andrew said unamused.

"That's because you've forgotten who you are! What you've done! People like you don't deserve to live amongst the rest of us," the figure snapped.

"That's rich coming from a terrorist. I didn't forget a damn thing. I'm not that person anymore. I've changed, I paid my pound of flesh. Now I help those I harmed before."

"Maybe I should get that pretty little therapist of yours involved. Make her see you're beyond redemption."

"Get her caught up in this and I might just regress enough to rip you apart piece by piece. Hell will need a new ring when I'm done with you. Hammond, sort out the vocal distortion. I want to hear this fucker's real voice." Andrew could feel the searing claws in his mind again. He didn't like being toyed with and he sure as hell didn't appreciate people threatening those close to him.

"I'm the voice of the people. The will of all you've wronged," the figure said. There was something wrong with the way it spoke though. The cadence was off slightly.

"Sir, I'm identifying over one thousand unique vocal patterns. They're stunted though, almost like it's an early text to speech program."

"No, it's a speech filter. Tell me where Thermer is," Andrew demanded.

"In due time. For now, you'll have to suffice with facing your own failures. Do as I say and Arinn will be safe." The feed cut and Andrew felt those searing claws rip away any restraint he had left. King dipped out of the way as Andrew's helmet slammed into the wall. No one said another word as the Spartan made his way aft, likely to shed the rest of his armor.

"FUCK!" Was the last thing anyone heard from him for hours.

17:00 Local Time

With no official orders, the Duskline stayed in port. King finally found Andrew in the ship's cramped PT deck. The Spartan-III was kneeling in the center of the small boxing ring. His breaths were slow and methodical, his eyes closed and his hands rested palm down on his thighs. King approached slowly and took a seat, mimicking his old friend. He was sure that Andrew could tell he was there. King shifted his weight around uncomfortably. "It's more comfortable if you cross your ankles and sit on your calves. Focus on something mundane and let your thoughts slip away."

King followed his advice and the two remained that way for several minutes. Andrew couldn't refocus though, he felt King's anxiety. Shifting into a cross-legged position Andrew broke the uncomfortable silence. "You can stop pretending now."

"Oh, I, uh, I came to-" Andrew cut him off.

"I'm fine Brandon. I'm calmed down. Meditation is part of how I cope. I've been here for three hours."

"I remember when 'coping' was beating the shit out of a shadow box sim. Glad you found something that clears your mind. So, you want to talk about what happened in Ops?"

"What's there to say? Whoever that is will use anyone to get to me. No one is safe. Our next destination is Trost. Somewhere that person thinks I failed people." Andrew's voice was calmer than King had ever heard it. There was always something underlying his tone; anger, happiness, concern. This was different, it was completely devoid of anything else.

"If you say so." King stood up and left the ring. "If you want some company we'll be in the galley."

Notes:

Been a while huh? Life comes at us pretty fast. I'm not gonna lie, it's been crazy since I last posted. I'm gonna try to be more frequent, but we'll see how that turns out.