12:23 Hours, March 29, 2559 (Military Calendar) /

Aboard UNSC Spirit of Fire, [STELLAR SYSTEM UNKNOWN]

Professor Ellen Anders poured over the data stream coming from the AI Isabel. There was . . . a lot to go over. Between the research the UNSC had been performing on the installation itself and the scraps of data she could pull out about this new threat that called themselves the Banished, the professor had her work cut out for her.

If the good professor felt swamped by this load of information, the man beside her had long since drowned and was resting on the bottom of the sea of information. Douglas-042 was not a lover of technology or data compilation. In fact, he didn't care much for anything that could be found in Professor Anders' lab on the observation deck of the Spirit of Fire aside from the company.

He had grown quite fond of the civilian liaison over the short time they spent together. He respected her. She was a researcher with a good head on her shoulders for endeavors outside of the academic - even if she seemed to value her own safety too little for his taste.

If there was a single bright point to the entire fiasco that was Red Team's initial engagement with the Banished, it was that he had some time to kill while his shoulder healed and his armor was repaired. He had spent most of it in Anders' lab, trying to help her compile data that he didn't understand.

The Spartan sighed explosively when a red light flashed across his console informing him that, once again, he had done something wrong. "Professor," he called tiredly, "I think I did it again."

"Let me see," she responded patiently, sliding between him and the console to consult with the angry machinery. She barely glanced at the error message before floating her hands across the screen, changing the method of data input, and pacifying whatever sadistic creature Douglas was sure had infiltrated the console.

"There we go, we should be back in business," Anders said before turning around to face the Spartan. She didn't step away from the console, instead smiling up at him from mere inches away. "I thought I told you to stop calling me 'Professor,'" she chided playfully. "It started to feel odd after our third lunch date."

Douglas nodded, embarrassed. Anders enjoyed referring to their time together as 'dates' because she knew how it made his face flush with excitement and nervousness - after all, the Spartan hadn't exactly been exposed to the typical courting pattern of human beings before meeting the woman before him.

"Sorry ma'am," he said, though he immediately cringed at the formal language. "Sorry Ellen," he amended somewhat awkwardly. "I'm still new to this all."

Ellen smiled brightly, rising onto her toes to plant a quick peck on his cheek. "It's okay," she breathed, "I just like it when you use my name. It sounds good coming from you."

Doughlas felt his face begin to burn and ducked in embarrassment. "I'll say it more often then," he managed to reply, but he knew that it didn't come out nearly as smoothly as he would have hoped. He was brand new to this, after all.

Ellen's smile seemed to somehow grow even brighter as she cupped one hand around Douglas's cheek. "Give me five more minutes to finish what I'm doing and then I'll be ready to leave," she promised.

"Whatever you need," the Spartan responded, but he was very excited about the promise of leaving the lab. Ellen turned back to her own workstation, and Douglas stole a glance at the console in front of him.

Immediately, the screen flashed a red error message. Douglas swallowed a curse at the frustration, but Ellen just laughed.

"You're lucky I like having you around," she said jovially, "or else I would have banned you from my lab by now."

Lucky?

Looking at Anders' smile, Douglas couldn't agree more.