Hello again, everyone, and welcome back to my Halo/Star Wars/Battlestar Galactica multicrossover short story collection.

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback and support. I deeply appreciate it.

I appreciate your approval of my addition of a third franchise into the crossover. To be fair, it was a risk, but I'm am happy to see that the risk has paid off so far. I hope all of you continue to read and support this short story collection as time goes on.

As always, leave a review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Halo, Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of Microsoft Studios, 343 Industries, Bungie, Lucasfilm, 20th Century Fox, Disney Films, NBC Universal Television Studio, Universal Media Studios, Universal Cable Productions, etc. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers, producers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to its original composers and/or artists.

Coruscant

UEG Embassy

August 15th, 0BBY, 1355 Hrs (March 27th, 2559, 1355 Hrs)

"We could use the Farbantor Apartment Complex to temporarily house the incoming refugees from Coruscant's underworld," Administrator Deckland suggested.

Norman nodded. "That could work. The building hasn't been used for some time, but it's in good condition. I just can't believe that the Empire would be willing to demolish such a building despite it being useful still. Don't they know how expensive demolishing buildings are?"

"They probably do, but have enough money to waste that they'll do it anyways. It's only thanks to their Emperor that we've managed to snag the building in the first place. It'll do nicely.

"That it will," Norman agreed. "I'll contact the building owners and see if they can use the money they were paid to set up the apartments for temporary housing. With luck, they'll be willing enough to provide us with the materials and equipment necessary to get the apartments ready for habitability."

Just two feet from the bureaucrats in question, Ambassador Cleese rubbed his forehead. Ever since that incident, we've been caught in the public eye, he thought. As such, it is now crucial that we begin the necessary steps to show the Empire the true values the UEG is willing to practice.

Another part of his mind reminded him of the other reason why. Deep down, Cleese knew that it was more than just the desire to make the UEG, and the UNSC, look good. It reminds me of how I ended up as Ambassador. Forced to live on the streets, with barely enough food and water to survive… no child should have to go through that kind of hell.

His train of thought derailed when Norman stood up. "I just don't understand why the Empire would be willing to ignore, or even hide, such a problem like this. Haven't they got any sense of humanity within them?!"

Deckland stood up. "Easy, Norman! I hate their blatant ignorance of this problem as much as you do, but there's little that we can do that we're not doing."

Cleese sighed. "He's right, Norman. Hell, the thought of seeing those emaciated children makes my blood boil. If I could, I'd throw Palpatine's explanations right back into his face. Right now, however, we must do what we can to not only stop this senseless suffering, but to also ensure that those children have a future they can look forwards to, a future where they'll never have to go hungry or suffer out in the cold again."

A grimace crossed Norman's face, then he sighed. "You're right. I-I just…"

Standing up from his desk, Cleese rested a hand on Norman's shoulder. "I understand how you feel, mostly because I've been there before."

"You were?"

Cleese nodded. "I grew up as a street urchin on the streets of New York City. It's only thanks to the UEG's orphan education programs that I got out of that hellhole and made something of myself. Seeing those children reminds me that I have an obligation to ensure that they get as good of a chance as they can to have a better and brighter future. I can honestly say that we're doing all we can. OK?"

Norman nodded. "OK."

"Good." Sitting down with the two, he looked at the schematics for the building in question. "So, what's the state of the building? Is it usable?"

"It's in good condition," Deckland said. "Our building inspectors gave the building a once-over. According to them, there are some problems with the plumbing, nothing our contractors should have trouble with. What's more worrying is that there might be some structural defects that need tending to."

Cleese frowned. "That's not good. Was the building manufactured correctly? We don't want something like that superstore collapse that happened in 1995."

Norman gave them a confused glance. "What superstore collapse?"

"I can explain," Deckland said. "Around five and a half centuries ago, there was a superstore in Seoul, the Sangpoon Superstore to be exact, that suffered a complete structural failure; bad, killed around five hundred people and injured nearly a thousand people, including one of my ancestors. According to the accident investigation, poor building practices and a blatant disregard for engineering safety were the culprits."

"So, is the building structurally unsafe?"

"I'm having the building checked over in that regard right now," Deckland said. "So far, it's been good news. Most of the structural defects are strictly superficial, but they're worried about the main structural supports connecting the building to the ecumenopolis' superstructure. If those are damaged, then the building will be unusable until they're properly repaired and reinforced."

"When will you have a final verdict in that regard?" Cleese asked.

"Soon. They've got drones that are scanning every square centimeter of that building, including its structural foundation. If all goes well, the damage should be minor, which means we'll be able to quickly repair it, and set up shop."

"Good," Cleese said. "Make sure they check it over very well. A structural collapse will not only kill a lot of innocent people, it'll make the UNSC and UEG look very bad. Public opinion can be more powerful than a pistol held to the forehead."

"Ain't that the truth," Norman said. "However, if all goes well, we'll not score a lot of goodwill with the wider galaxy, we'll accomplish a greater moral victory: we'll ensure that these children have a future worth looking forwards to."

"Amen to that," Deckland said.

"Agreed," Cleese said. "Still, I do share your feelings when it comes to the nobility of Coruscant. That greedy worm Morlen tried to make it where each Imperial Credit was worth twenty UEG Credits."

Deckland gaped at Cleese. "You're kidding! That rat bastard tried to hyper-inflate the UEG's Credit?"

Cleese nodded. "Yep, nearly got away with it too, but I caught onto him in the end. Eventually go it to where one Imperial Credit was worth four UEG Credits. I've also heard rumors that Charet is planning on taking out a few loans from the Imperial banks, including the InterGalactic Banking Clan."

"Why would Charet take out a loan from those greedy assholes?"

Cleese frowned. "I don't know, but whatever she's planning, it'll put a hurting onto the Galactic Empire for certain. For all we know, she could be attempting to perform the legal version of highway robbery, but then again, those are the rumors, and we all know better than to trust rumors." Deckland and Norman nodded in agreement.

They were about to return to work when the HoloCOM at Cleese's deck chimmed. "Excuse me." Standing up, he walked over to the desk and sat down. Keying the transceiver, he watched as the image of a building inspector appeared. "Ambassador Cleese. How may I be of assistance?"

"Inspector Terry here," was the reply. "Is Deckland there? I couldn't reach him on his HoloCOM."

"I'm here," Deckland said. "What is it?"

"We just finished with the structural inspections," Terry said.

"And?"

"And it's better than we thought it was going to be."

A sigh of relief passed through all gathered in the room. "So, what's the condition of the building?" Cleese asked. "I'd rather not have this thing fall apart like a house of cards."

"Surprisingly good, even after five years of abandonment. There' some minor damage to the structural supports connecting the building to Coruscant's superstructure, but nothing that our contractors here can't fix. We've got some minor electrical and plumbing issues here and there, but again, all easily fixable. Whoever owned the building last did an excellent job of taking care of it."

"Are the contractors busy fixing the place up?" Cleese asked.

"They got started twenty minutes ago. We've got cleaners, electricians, plumbers, architects and many other people of such fine professions hard at work in there. With all the manpower that we've got, I wouldn't be surprised if we got this building fully livable within the day. Those orphans and refugees are about to have some good beds to sleep in."

Cleese sighed. That's good news. "What about food and water?"

"Even better news there," Terry said. "We've found what looks like the remains of a kitchen in there. Our cleaners finished sanitizing it a few minutes ago, and we've got people hauling in ovens and kitchen appliances. Looks like the building was a combined apartment and restaurant. Makes sense, given that the building's twenty five stories tall. You'd need a restaurant to feed everyone in the building."

"Very true. Is there anything else that you need to tell us?"

Terry nodded. "Yep. That's about the size of the situation. If there's anything else that you need us to do, I'll see if we can get it done. Stay safe, Ambassador."

"You too, Terry," Cleese said. Terry's hologram fizzled out, and Cleese turned his gaze onto the others. "Is there anything else the two you you need to share with me?"

"Yes," Deckland said. "With the amount of refugees that are coming in, we'll need to find more buildings in order to house them. One apartment complex isn't good enough, so I've got scouts looking for other buildings that we can tend to. We'll also need a hospital in order to treat any illnesses that these orphans and refugees have."

"I'll see what I can do about that," Cleese said. "Given the abundance of hospitals on Coruscant, it shouldn't be too hard to find one that is willing to help treat these orphans for their various medical conditions. I'll also speak with Charet later and see if she can get the Emperor to hand over more apartments for the purposes of what we're doing."

Deckland nodded. "Good. That means we can get more orphans out of the Underworld and to somewhere where they'll be safe and sound."

Cleese nodded. "Indeed. Is there anything else you two need to ask? Now's the time to speak up, or forever hold your peace."

Deckland and Norman glanced at each other. "Not at this time, no," Norman said.

"Then you can leave when you need to. Let me know when the apartment is fully up and running." Both men nodded and walked out of the room.

With that matter tended to, Cleese turned his focus onto another matter that had come up. Opening a public inbox that his AI had set up, he frowned at the number of messages in it. Looks like Stepan's stint towards that member of the Imperial Nobility has them really fired up, he thought. Numerous nobles are demanding that he step down and be tried by an Imperial court.

He shook his head. I would sooner hand Stefan over to the UEG to receive a medal than listen to those bloated ticks of politicians. Stefan was right: they really are deluded bastards that thing everyone will bow to them simply because they are of Imperial nobility.

His mind turned towards other matters. Sitting up, he keyed the HoloCOM. The holographic image of a woman appeared before him. "Hello," she said. "Secretary Steeds. How may I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could speak with President Charet. I have a few matters to discuss with her."

"One moment," Steeds said. "President Charet is about to finish up a meeting. Could you hold for five minutes."

"Of course." Remaining on the channel, he leaned back in his seat. Idly reaching into his desk, he pulled out a book to read. It was a good story, one written by a famed author. Before long, he was thoroughly engrossed in the book

He was so engrossed, in fact, that when he heard someone clearing their throat, he jumped. Slamming the book down onto his desk, his gaze shot up towards the HoloCOM transceiver. He relaxed when he found Charet gazing at him. She frowned. "I apologize, Ambassador. I didn't mean to scare you."

Cleese chuckled. "It's fine, Madame President. I was just too busy waiting for you. That being said, I wanted to discuss a few matters with you, ma'am."

"Like what?"

Cleese frowned. "Ever since we decided to open an orphanage and refugee center for Coruscant's underworld, the Imperial nobility have become quite disgruntled with one of our embassy guards, Stefan. They're demanding that he turn himself in to an Imperial court for judgment."

"What do you think?" Charet asked.

"I think that Stefan should be commended for his restraint, and his timely actions. If it were up to me, I'd give him a damn metal."

Charet nodded. "I fully agree with you. I would sooner give Stefan a medal and a promotion for his actions than hand him over to the Imperials for judgment. Personally speaking, I think we should politely decline the nobility's demands. Speaking of which, what is Stefan currently doing?"

"I don't know at this time," Cleese said. "However, if you want, I could give him a day off for the time being."

"Do it. That man deserves a break, at least from what I've heard. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

Cleese nodded. "According to my assistants Deckland and Norman, we're going to need more than just one apartment complex to process all of the refugees and orphans from Coruscant's underworld. According to Deckland's calculations, we'll need five at the current time to handle the outflow in the region surrounding the embassy. We'll also need a hospital to treat the various illnesses they might have."

"I see. I'll speak with the Emperor to see if he can lend us a few more buildings, and a hospital. If all goes well, we should be able to get things taken care of. Is there anything else you need to ask me?"

"Not at this time," Cleese said.

"Very well. Keep up the good work, Cleese. Charet out." Her hologram fizzed out of existence.

Cleese sighed. Well, that's one bit of good news, he thought. Speaking of which, I should go and check up on the embassy guards. I just hope the field kitchen hasn't been overwhelmed…

As it turned out, that was almost the situation that Cleese found when he left the building. On the concourse that was before the Embassy, he could see a large trailer that had power and water cables running to it. Even from this distance, he could smell the good food being cooked within the field kitchen.

He also saw a depressing sight. A long line of children, men and women present at the field kitchen; each member had a hungry expression on their tired, emaciated faces. Along the line were a number of UNSC Army soldiers that kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, along with some loitering Stormtroopers. On the other side, he could see the orphans and refugees hungrily devouring the food cooked for them.

The man he was looking for was among those that were eating the food they desperately needed. Stefan was speaking with the children, all of whom were sitting around him in a semi-circle. "So here I was, in this goat pen, trying to get at this buck that was a good twenty pounds heavier than I was, and you know what he did when I tried to grab him by the horns?"

"What?" one of the children asked.

Stefan smiled. "He dragged me around the entire pen. Kept on bleating the whole time. My dad eventually caught him and helped me get to my feet. Still, that buck was not happy for a long, long time. Every time I entered that pen, he would give me the stink eye."

The kids laughed, a sound that brought a smile to Cleese's face. Approaching the group, he rapped a knuckle onto the side of the field kitchen. Looking up, Stefan said, "Well, kids, duty calls. I'll be back when I can. OK?" The kids grumbled, but grudgingly nodded. Coming over to Cleese, he asked, "What's up?"

"How's it coming over here?" Cleese asked. "Sounds like you were telling the kids a good story."

Stefan nodded. "That I was. So, what do you need me to do?"

Cleese glanced around. "I'll tell you, but in private. I don't want the Stormtroopers overhearing." With a motion, he proceeded to the lobby of the embassy. Once they were inside, he said, "You've got a lot of heat coming at you from the Imperial nobility. Most want to tar and feather you."

"I'm not worried. They were hurting kids and I stomped on them. In my opinion, they deserved it."

Cleese nodded. "President Charet said much the same thing, and I agree. If it were up to me, Stefan, I'd give you the UEG Medal of Freedom right about now. That being said, she and I agree that there's too much heat going around to be comfortable having you on guard duty here. As such, after we discussed the matter with General Hogan, we've decided to put you on paid leave, and to give you a promotion when we can."

Stefan frowned. "I appreciate it sir, but I must decline. You saw those kids out there. They need someone that can relate to them, someone that can make them feel happy again."

"Which is why you'll be heading to the apartment complex that'll be up and running soon. I want you to be the first face that those refugees and orphans will see when they walk through those doors. They need to know that the person that stood up to the Imperial nobility and called them out on their bullshit is the same man standing guard over their first steps to freedom. You understand?"

Stefan looked at Cleese as though he'd grown a second head, then he nodded. "I understand, sir. I'll make sure that all of those refugees and orphans have a warm reception at that place. I'll do it, but on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"That I be armed," Stefan said. "You and I both know that, eventually, the UEG and Galactic Empire will go to war with each other. Our values and cultures are incompatible and, as such, someone's going to get their asses kicked. As such, when they beat down the doors to that building, those people need someone that can put up stiff resistance until they can escape."

Cleese nodded. "That is definitely acceptable, more than acceptable in fact. I'll ask Charet to station some Army soldiers over there to assist in keeping the place safe. I know the Stormtroopers are supposed to be the best at what they're meant to be, but I don't trust them around civilians."

Stefan saluted. "Understood. We'll keep 'em nice and safe."

"Good. Now, head back to those kids and keep telling them those stories. Something tells me they haven't heard a good one in a long while."

. . .

In another part of the galaxy, Cassian was having to deal with another affair entirely. Slipping his blaster weapons into a rucksack, he threw enough clothes to last a week, as well as his personal effects. Once all items were inside, he zipped up the bag and proceeded into the hallway before him.

Well, this turned out to be an interesting affair, he thought. First, I defected from the Rebel Alliance to ONI, and now my ass is getting dragged to another galaxy for training as one of their agents. He shook his head. When did my life become so convoluted and crazy? All I wanted to do was be with Jyn, and this is what I'm rewarded with.

Still, it's not all bad. I get to go to where the UNSC came form, and I get to see what the war with the Covenant was like in person. Those ONI agents probably have a lot of good stories to share with me, and quite a few bad ones as well.

He quickly dispelled the thoughts. Walking down the hallway, his mind drifted back to when he had decided to leave the Rebel Alliance.

. . .

Earlier Months Earlier

"Why are you leaving the Rebel Alliance?" General Davits asked. "Surely there could be a place for you here? Why not stay?"

Cassian sighed. "I know it feels like a betrayal to some since I've announced my decision to leave the Rebel Alliance, but it isn't. I'm not happy with the way things are being run, and you know it."

"But there is a chance that it could become better," Davits argued.

"Not while those jackanapes are arguing with each other. Have you heard them arguing among themselves? You'd think that the Rebellion has only just gotten started with the amount of arguing they do. On top of that, they waste too much time arguing when they could be doing things. Even the UNSC representatives have had to tell them to knock it off."

Davits groaned. Ever since the Rebel Alliance had begun its reforming period, things had been quite hectic. Numerous members of the Rebel Alliance were thrown out due to histories of drug abuse and criminal activity, among many other charges. There was also a core of Rebels that were highly dissatisfied with the way the Rebel Alliance had done things.

What had Davits surprised was that Cassian was among that core. "Are you sure that what you're doing is going to be such a good idea?" he asked. "If you do this, you won't be able to come back to the Rebel Alliance. Can't trust someone who's been a traitor once, after all."

"Aren't we all traitors once?" Cassian asked. "Besides, I believe that I need to do this. If I don't reunite with Jyn and apologize to her, I'll never be able to live it down. Besides, the New Republic's become paralyzed by inaction. The only person that seems to be doing anything at all is the UEG and UNSC."

"There's something else to it, is there?"

Cassian sighed. Davits might be a backstabbing bastard at times, but damn if he isn't perceptive. "Yes, there is. I think the New Republic has lost its way, ideologically speaking that is. We seek to overthrow the Empire, but we can't even forgive people from the Clone Wars, like the Separatists?"

"That's different," Davits argued, though even he knew his words sounded weak. "We can't risk the Empire using the fact that we're recruiting Separatists to make us appear to be the enemy. If we do, it'll become much more difficult to gather support for the Rebellion."

"Except we're no longer the Rebellion, we're the New Republic. Besides, why shouldn't we allow Separatists to become members? From what I've learned, there were a lot of innocent people that just wanted to be free. Are you saying we should turn our noses up at them?"

Davits groaned. "Yes…. I mean… no… I…" He huffed in frustration.

"Exactly my point," Cassian said. "The Separatists just wanted to be independent, the same thing we desire. If we aren't willing to forgive them and allow them to help us in our goal, what point is there to the Rebellion? We might as well call ourselves an Empire by a different name."

"That… is a fair point. Perhaps Iblis will change that policy."

Cassian shrugged. "Maybe, but my point still stands. I'm disappointed with how the Rebel Alliance has handled affairs, and I've decided that enough is enough. I'll be leaving for wherever the UNSC is at, and I won't change my mind."

As the two talked, they came to one of the landing pads used for the base at Yavin IV. A large freighter was on the landing pad, taking on cargo and crew. Realizing that Cassian wasn't going to change his mind, Davits sighed. "I really wish you'd reconsider, but you've made your choice. I won't stop you. Just… be safe, Cassian. You were my best agent. I'll miss having your skillset within New Republic Intelligence."

"I'm sure you will," Cassian said. "Still, the UNSC will need someone like me, someone willing to go into the deepest, darkest pits of the galaxy and gather what information we can. Either way, I wish you the best."

Davits nodded. "You too. Good luck, and may the Force be with you." With a final nod, Cassian walked up the ramp into the freighter, while Davits turned to head back to the base.

. . .

Present Day

Cassian shook his head, clearing his mind of the memories. I don't regret my decision to leave the Rebel Alliance. Things will be hard while I get settled into this new galaxy, and this new organization, but I'm certain it'll all be worth the fuss in the end.

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to whirl around. Before he knew it, his fist had nearly sailed into the face of an ONI officer. To his credit, the officer merely deflected the blow, his expression not changing. "Good instinct," he said. "Just rein it in when you're with friendlies. You wouldn't want a fight to break out because you broke someone's nose."

Cassian sighed. "Sorry. Old habits die hard."

"In this case, they're good habits." The officer patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you to the ship we'll be taking back to our home galaxy."

"Thanks," Cassian said. "I didn't catch your name, by the way."

"I'll tell you when we get there. You can call me Henry for the time being."

Cassian nodded. "Playing hard-to-catch, eh? I can work with that. Let's go see what we've got going on here." Henry smiled, then beckoned Cassian to follow…

Up on the space station, Cassian could see the ship that would be taking him, and hundreds of other people, to the galaxy the UEG was from. Glancing over the ship, he asked, "What's that ship?"

"That would be the MSV Herald of Free Enterprise," Henry said. "She's an independent merchant ship that is contracted by various corporations to transports goods and materials for them. Currently, she's making a few trips to and fro for SinoViet Heavy Industries, one of the UNSC's main industrial corporations."

Cassian cocked an eyebrow. "I hear a 'but' coming."

Henry smiled. "You really do catch on quick." Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "However, ONI also has the captain of that ship move some of their personnel clandestinely, for a suitable fee of course."

"In other words, she's our ride out of here."

"Precisely," Henry said. "Come on, we've gotta go or we'll be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The ship itself, while old, seemed to be well maintained. Cassian could see crew members quietly working on various parts of the ship. A pair crouched down near a panel, where one man was fixing a leaking pipe "And… there we are," the technician said. "One leaky pipe fixed. This is the first time that's happened on this pipe."

"Yeah," his partner said. "Gotta hand it to Captain Ivan. He certainly hires the right people to take good care of his ships. Plus, with all the Benjamins that are coming with all of those shipping jobs to the Empire, we'll be high and dry if all hell breaks loose."

"More like buried in so much money that we'll be able to buy a whole fleet of shipping vessels. Still, when it comes to economics, that is a very good thing. This whole shebang is good for business."

Cassian smiled, letting the two men chat away with each other. I guess the UEG has its own fair share of greedy people. He shrugged. I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.

A hand tapped twice on his shoulder. Fighting the urge to punch the individual in the face, Cassian found another ONI agent looking at him, or so he thought. "Is there something you need?" he asked.

"I'm Henry's partner, Jerry," the man said. "So, what's the latest scoop?"

Cassian hesitated. He didn't know if this man really was a friend of Henry's. For all he knew, Jerry was an Imperial spy that had managed to get past the tight security around Pantora.

It was Henry that put him at ease. "Hey there, Jerry," he said, a smile on his face. "Long time no see. How's the back doing?"

"Fine," Jerry said. "Still gives me trouble when the weather changes, but that's a small price to pay for being alive. It'll take more than those damn Needler Rifles to keep me down for good."

"Ain't that the truth, though from what I recall, it was a Brute Spiker that did that to you."

Jerry shrugged. "What difference does it make? I got shot, and I came out alive and well. I'll call that a win any day." His gaze returned to Cassian. "So, this is the newblood, eh? Doesn't look like anything special."

"I was present at Scarif when the Infinity showed up," Cassian said.

"Really? You pullin' my leg or somethin'"

"Nope," Henry said. "He really was there. Helped get us the blueprints for a classified project."

Jerry smiled. "I see… You might turn out to be something special after all." Looking around, he said, "Let's go see the Captain. I hear that the ol' boy's doing well…"

As it turned out, the 'ol' boy' was doing quite well. Standing at his seat in the bridge, Captain Ivan looked like the stereotypical ship captain, complete with bushy white beard. "So," he said, his British accent loud and clear, "I hear that we have a new VIP of sorts, yes?"

"That we do," Jerry said. "He's comin' with us on a special assignment."

"Good. It was a hassle signing all of those non-disclosure agreements. I swear those boffins of colleagues of yours intentionally make those documents hard to sign and read. Couldn't you at least make it a tad easier?"

Henry smiled. "Where would the fun be in that?"

"Fair point. That being said, I've prepared a few cryotubes for you and your guest. Once we set sail to Earth, we'll all clamber into the pods and give our lives over to the tin gods that keep us a step away from ever ready death."

"I didn't take you for the poetic type," Cassian observed.

"I do have a taste for poetry. My favorites are from Ulysses and Homer. That being said, we need to get ready for our trek back to the Milky Way Galaxy. Take care now, gentlemen."

"You too, old man," Jerry said. Ivan merely returned the smile, with the trio heading down to the cryo tubes. "We're about to head out anyways, so might as well get you ready beforehand." Reaching into a locker, he pulled out a skintight suit. "Here are your Long Johns."

"Why are those needed?" Cassian asked.

"So that you aren't butt naked when you come out of cryosleep," Henry said. "Even during the war with the Covenant, Mankind has been quite busy finding ways to keep themselves in good dignity, especially in cryotubes. Plus, the Long Johns, as we call those skintight suits, are there for another reason: to help with the cryogenic suspension process. There are thousands of microneedles in addition to the big one that administer the drugs that'll keep you alive."

"Won't I get freezer burn?"

"Not with these," Henry said. "When we got our hands onto the MJÖLNIR schematics, we quickly managed to work out how to make skintight suits that wouldn't cause freezer burn. Plus, the freezer burn doesn't come from the clothes themselves. It comes from the breakdown of the drugs needed to keep you alive, mostly in the joints. Just be ready for a pins-and-needles sensation that burns when you wake up."

Cassian shrugged. All right, might as well get this over with. Taking the suit, he motioned for the others to step out. Once they did, he quickly swapped his own clothes out for the skintight suit. Once it tightened, he looked inside the cryopod. Looks comfy. Hopefully it does its job.

The agents came back just as the PA ringed. "Attention, Attention," a voice said. "Separation Procedure Commencing." There was a rumble as the ship disconnected from the space station. "Separation Protocol Complete. Slipspace Jump will commence in T-Minues Five Mintes." There was a click, and the PA went silent.

"Well then, that's our cue," Jerry said. "Go ahead and step in, Cassian. Once you're in, it's off to dreamland for you."

Seems to me that I'm the only one worried about this, Cassian thought. One of the agents handed him a cup with a liquid inside of it. Taking it, he fully drank the contents, grimacing at the bitter taste. Stepping inside, he watched the lid of the cryotube close. A slight pricking sensation on various parts of his body indicated that the needles had entered, helping the medical devices inside the cryopod administer the pharmaceuticals that would keep him alive and asleep for the duration of the journey. Before long, he was drowsing off to sleep. For a brief moment, he thought he could feel a chill, then restful sleep consumed him.

. . .

Well, this is a boring job, Ensign Powell thought. I get assigned to this monitoring station in orbit over a junk world by the name of Lotho Minor. Who did I piss off to get this assignment?

He shrugged, resting his legs on a part of the console that had no buttons. Well, I guess this is my lot in life. No sense worrying over it now. The HoloCOM crackled, startling him to attention. "Monitoring Station Bravo-24 here. Over."

"Mike Sierra Bravo-24, this is Rear Admiral Woods. Are you there?"

Powell shivered. That hardass is talking to me? Shit, I'd better get to it. "Yes sir," he said. "What do you need?"

"Just asking for a status update, son. No need to get worked up. I'm sure that it's the most boring job in the world for you."

Powell sighed. Well, good thing he's there to break up the monotony. He checked his sensor screen. "Nothing to report, sir. All sensors are -" He paused, noticed an odd reading. "Hang on, I'm getting an odd reading. Looks like we might have a ship coming in. Any ships scheduled to come in about now?"

"Negative," Woods said.

At that, a cold chill ran up Powell's spine. That's not good. All other thoughts were dispelled when the screen lit up with more information. "Got a read on the contact now. Looks like it's a single ship. Scans indicate it's a light freighter."

"Understood," Woods said. "Thank you for the information. I've got a pair of frigates moving to intercept now. Probably looking at a pair of illegal smugglers or looters. Keep us posted. Woods out."

Powell sighed. That's good to know, he thought. Might as well watch the show.

. . .

Onboard the Scavenger's Bounty, Orthen was sweating buckets as the pair of Strident-class frigates approached. "Spast!" he snarled. "Those UNSC types are everywhere nowadays! Now we can't dump our trash here!"

"Maybe we can bribe 'em?" Hovir, his first mate, suggested. "I know a lot of officials who are open to bribes and all."

"Maybe, but this is the UNSC we're talking about. You know what happened to the last people that crossed them, do you?!"

Any reply was cut off when the HoloCOM came to life, showing the image of a man with brown hair and green eyes. "Unidentified ship, this is Rear Admiral Woods of the UNSC Triathlon. You are trespassing into UNSC territory. Identify yourself and state your business."

Orthen swallowed his fear, then spoke up. "Triathlon, this is Captain Orthen of the Scavenger's Bounty. We came here to do a trash run."

"Trash run?"

"Lotho Minor is a junk world," Hovir said. "We come here all the time to dump off trash. Normally, this is illegal, but there are exceptions. Plus, I think we can come to an agreeable deal. Perhaps we can persuade you to allow us to do any business. It's not like we're harming anyone."

Woods seemed unconvinced. "Scavenger's Delight, you will hold your current position. You are under arrest for trespassing into UNSC territory and unauthorized waste disposal. A boarding party will be over to take you into custody."

Orthen frowned. "Oh no, you don't!" He moved to activate the ship's Hyperdrive, only for the lights to go out. "Hovir, backup power, now! I ain't getting caught by some stuck-up officer!"

"It's down!" Hovir shouted. "I can't bring it up! We're doomed!"

"Oh, shut up and -" He was interrupted by a loud, clanking sound as something attached to the ship. Pulling out his blaster, he took aim at the door, ready to fight his way to freedom. He never got the chance.

Something dropped into the room via an air vent. The next thing Orthen knew, he was sprawled out onto the floor, ears ringing and his vision completely white. A pair of rough hands bound his own with something. When the ringing and light faded, he found himself looking at dozens of UNSC Marines. "Well, well, lookie here!" one said, holding his blaster. "Somebody's got some explaining to do."

"Definitely," another said. "Boys, haul these two jokers and the rest of the crew into the brig. I think Woods wants a little chat with them."