Author's Notes: Normally I leave the notes at the bottom, but this one requires a bit of context, so bear with me. This is the first omake in what I'm planning to be a short series detailing the fate of the various MFO OC's if the Dominion hadn't gotten lost in Shunspace. For some, it's better than others.

"One Small Change, Part One"

By Kpmh2001

When somebody was being played by the Office of Naval Intelligence, it was only towards the very end that they realized that they were being played at all. This, amongst all of the other lessons that Admiral Richard Miller had learned, rang true in his mind as he sat in the Officer's Lounge aboard the UNSC Point of No Return, a ship that did not exist. Indeed,the very idea of a stealth cruiser was nothing but childish fantasy, and so the Point of No Return, even years following the end of the Human-Covenant War, was nothing but a tall tale, a legend.

He wasn't an idiot, of course, he knew enough about ONI's coverup efforts to see the truth between the lies. It was no wonder either, they'd taught him to do just that, and to conduct those cover-ups personally. He knew that this particular legend had more to it than just fiction, but even so, when he'd been handed his orders to board the ship via a convoluted route of shuttle trips and seemingly random slipspace jumps, he wasn't just surprised, he was alarmed.

But it was only once he was aboard the shuttle that he put the pieces together. The dead-end desk job he'd been seemingly doomed to about a month ago, his rank and former stations be damned. It had been nothing more than keeping him in a convenient place until someone, somewhere, was ready for him to do something.

What it was, he had no idea, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut that it wasn't going to be good. He knew already that he wasn't going to die, ONI would've ended him long ago if that were the case. No, this was something different, and potentially something worse.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, totally alone, giving the impression that this particular ghost ship truly was totally deserted. He'd been brought aboard by a Spartan, and not one of the Three's, he'd have recognized the armor. It couldn't have been a Four either, not with that particular program still in its infancy. Any Spartan was rare enough as it was, especially with so many having been killed during the war, but to have one of the handful of surviving Spartan Two's bring him aboard… whatever this was, somebody powerful clearly deemed it important.

His mind raced through a million different thoughts as he sat and waited, but among them all, regret over his past decisions took center stage. He'd only returned to ONI after he'd learned just how gutted it truly was, but he still hadn't forgotten the reason why he'd left. ONI's reputation as Humanity's boogieman was the only thing that they really had going for them, alongside a handful of powerful assets that were far too useful to risk, such as the Point of No Return. Its staff was a tenth of what it had been at the start of the war, and for all its reputation, it simply could not accomplish most of its missions anymore.

Richard, being an older man who had just as much experience fighting Insurrectionists as he did the Covenant, was among the last of a nearly extinct breed of ONI Officers from an era that had been practically forgotten. Given that experienced officers in general were worth multiple times their weight in gold, now more than ever, he'd rapidly found himself getting lumped with a myriad of new responsibilities, as well as a new position.

To go from a Naval Commander of a Frigate to a Rear Admiral was very unusual, even given the catastrophic losses to the UNSC's chain of command during the battles of Earth. It was something that everyone he'd recently worked with had no qualms about reminding him of. Richard had, however, also noticed that they were all about half of his age.

He really was out of place. Indeed, even if the room wasn't devoid of life, Richard pondered whether or not he would still feel so alone.

He did not remain isolated for much longer, as the Spartan finally returned, snapping to a salute before addressing him. "She's ready to see you now, Admiral."

A chill ran down Richard's spine. No name other than his own was mentioned on the orders for his transfer, but now he understood the secretive, thorough nature of everything that was going on. The eerie absence of everyone around him, his sporadic and confused transfer orders that took him in twenty different directions before taking him to his destination, the presence of a Spartan…

There was only one person that he could possibly be meeting with.

Richard did his best to summon his courage as the Spartan led him down winding halls and corridors, eventually reaching a bend that led to a bulkhead. The Spartan, however, stopped him and pointed to a specific spot on the wall. "Press your hand here, Sir."

Richard complied, pressing his hand against the wall, which gave an electronic chirp as the biometric scanner, totally concealed behind the titanium wall, approved his entry to the Odin's Eye.

The small hidden chamber was amongst the most secure places available to Humanity in the Galaxy. The room acted as a large faraday cage, preventing any electronic signals of any kind from entering or leaving it. As Richard's transfer orders had ominously warned him, he was now one of only thirteen people who were still alive with the clearance to access the room.

The creaseless door opened, revealing a small corridor to a circular chamber. Inside was a single black, round conference table, and a single elderly woman. A woman who despite her apparent age, was in Richard's mind, the most dangerous person in the UNSC if not the Galaxy. Holding at her fingertips virtually every resource that ONI still had alongside a terrifying degree of influence in just not the Military, but the newly restored civilian Government. The Commander in Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence;

Admiral Margret Parangosky.

The Spartan saluted her, but she waved her hand for him to relent. "Thank you Soren, that will be all. Could you get the door on your way out?"

The almost casual nature with which she spoke caught Richard off-guard, but Soren didn't seem surprised in the slightest. "Yes ma'am."

The Spartan turned and left, leaving Richard alone with Parangosky. For the first time since he'd been made admiral, he stood at attention. "Admiral Parangosky."

"Admiral Miller." Parangosky addressed him. Her old, wrinkled face barely even seemed to move as she sized him up. "Would you kindly pull the stick out of your ass? I didn't bring you to the middle of nowhere to chew you out like some delinquent Ensign."

That, oddly, was a bit of relief, and he relaxed his posture somewhat. For all of what he'd heard, his first impression of Parangosky defied his every expectation. "Then why bring me out here?"

"You're being reassigned," she answered somewhat vaguely. "Have a seat, we've got a lot to discuss."

He did as he was told, and she sat across from him. Her movements as she sat down were slow, shaky, and she cursed under her breath as she found her way into her seat. Richard said nothing, and although Parangosky betrayed no emotion, he could somehow sense she appreciated his silence in the matter.

"Before we get started, I'd just like to ask you something," she said. "Are you scared of me, Richard?"

He froze, unsure of what to say. He was wise enough not to lie, and yet, honesty seemed to be an equally bad decision. What was strange, however, was the lack of judgment in Parangosky's voice. She didn't even sound suspicious. If anything, she seemed exhausted, perhaps even sympathetic. Somehow, that seemed even worse than if she was judging him.

Sensing his silence, she let out a half chuckle before speaking up once more. "It's okay if you are. I'm certainly scared of you."

His disbelief at her admission was incalculable, he didn't even know that somebody like Parangosky could feel fear. It was, however, also strangely reassuring. "You're afraid? Why?"

"Because the future of our species' survival may very well hinge on you, and I stand to see everything that I have ever done be for nothing if you fail." She sternly answered. "So, are you afraid of me?"

There was no sense in hesitating to answer a question that she already knew the answer to. "Yes."

"Good. Keep a hold of that feeling, commit it to memory, because from today onwards, anybody who speaks to you will be feeling that exact fear," Parangosky replied, her eyes narrowing as if to drive a dagger home with the message.

The implications of her words did not elude him, but to be honest, he had been hoping to ignore them for as long as possible.

Parangosky, however, did not seem to share his hesitation, as she reached for the only object on the conference table, a simple folder, which she passed to him. "Here. I've already filled in most of this, but on the final page I'll need your signature."

His blood ran cold as he took the folder in his hands, steadily opening it as Parangosky examined his every reaction. The first page of a bundle of papers appeared, and despite Richard's own will, he couldn't help but read the header.

"Transfer of Command"

There was little doubt about whose position he was being called upon to fulfill.

The nerves he felt threatened to boil over as he closed the folder again and looked to Parangosky. Her expression betrayed no emotion even as he struggled to speak. It was, however, ultimately a futile effort. How could it not be? He was living a nightmare.

There were countless other men who would, and likely did, kill to acquire such a powerful position. Richard had been one of them, once, before something happened that had drastically changed his outlook on many, many things. It was the reason he hadn't argued about being what was effectively a babysitter in the Spartan Three program for years, and why he'd requested a transfer to the Navy itself.

Training took hold before his mind did, and he had his breathing under control in short order, as Parangosky watched over him like a hawk. Now she was judging him, but it remained to be seen whether or not he had passed whatever test she was putting him through.

"Before you ask, yes, I am sure about this." Parangosky finally spoke. "I selected you personally as one of twenty-nine candidates for the next Commander in Chief of ONI, and I have made my decision. The Admiralty concurred unanimously."

Reality set in for Richard as he realized that, nightmare or not, there would be no escaping his fate. Be it resolution or mere acceptance, he found the will to speak, to ask a question that he was afraid he already knew the answer to. "How long have I been a candidate?"

"Fourteen Years, ever since the naval action on Bounty." Parangosky simply answered.

Fourteen years. Her answer echoed in Richard's mind as the truth made itself at home. He hadn't just been played, he had been forged, molded into the next potential CINCONI. It now made sense why he'd received such a wide variety of assignments, had some of his more unusual transfers approved. He'd been an instructor, a field agent, he'd captained a Prowler, and had even been briefly in command of a frigate at the end of the war, the UNSC Dominion, before volunteering to return to ONI.

And it was all because of the single worst thing he'd ever been forced to do.

Richard breathed deeply as the memories rapidly returned, only adding to the mountainous weight on his shoulders. "You understand that wasn't exactly my finest hour."

Parangosky chuckled at his grim humor. "No, it wasn't, but in truth, it wasn't your commitment to the Cole Protocol that made you stand out to me, it was what came next."

"What do you mean?" Richard asked.

"Your testimony at the court martial," Parangosky answered. "I read the transcript, watched the recording maybe fifty times, and each time I saw something that you have that no other candidate had, that far too few of us do."

Richard remained silent, sensing that he wasn't meant to speak.

"Regret." She finally said. "I saw it in your eyes. You weren't thinking about your fate, about whether or not you'd get thrown into some cage in the Midnight Facility, or just shot and flushed out an airlock… you thought about the men, women, and children that died on that day."

Richard took a long, deep breath. Even now, many years later, the memory of seeing those nuclear detonations shatter the UNSC Orion into pieces made it difficult to breathe. It had been carrying refugees from Bounty, escorting them to safety, when the carrier had been boarded by a large Covenant strike team. The Captain of the ship had refused to self-destruct, arguing that the Covenant could be repelled, placing the navigation data in his ship's computers at risk, and by extension, the rest of Humanity.

There was little doubt in Richard's mind that the Orion was doomed long before he'd ordered his Prowler's nukes fired, but more than a decade of nightmares tortured him with the idea that maybe, just maybe, the Captain had been right. If he was, then it would've meant that the sixteen thousand souls aboard the Orion, including the refugees, had been killed needlessly, by nobody but him.

He was eventually found to be innocent of the charges that had been levied against him, and even offered a promotion and commendation for his commitment to his duty, and to the Cole Protocol. He had declined both in utter disgust. But now, all these years later, he realized that there was no escaping the consequences of his actions.

Richard shook his head. "I don't understand, why would you want someone like me to do this?"

Parangosky was already being surprisingly patient with him, and he now had a theory as to why. Perhaps, quite a few years ago, she'd been sitting in a very similar situation to the one that he was. "Well, there's a lot of reasons, but there's only really one important one, and that's the current state of ONI."

Richard nodded, he still didn't quite understand her thinking, but he was starting to put some of the pieces together.

"I don't need to tell you that most of our competent personnel are dead, or that most of our ships are gone. To be quite candid, we cannot carry out our duties," Parangosky continued, causing Richard's stomach to sink at the way her words mimicked his thoughts.

How similar were they? Was he going to have to become an icon of terror, carry out unspeakable crimes and order atrocities in the name of the greater good? If he were forced to confront the same dilemma that he had fourteen years ago, did he still have it in him to pull the trigger?

"I'm in a similar state myself, as you can probably tell. It's a long story, but suffice to say, my body can't keep up with the job anymore. If you're really that curious, my files are all yours," Parangosky said.

Perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion with which she spoke, or just the nature of intruding on somebody else's life like that without reason, but Richard felt the need to speak. "I think I owe you that little bit of privacy."

Richard blinked in disbelief as, despite all of the rumors, all of the legends and whispered tales of atrocity from the heartless, evil Admiral Parangosky… she smiled.

"That is why I picked you." Parangosky said, almost proudly. "I'm not a spiritual woman, but if any of us have a soul, Richard, it has to be you."

It took a lot of effort to disregard his own doubts about that claim, as there was a far more important question that he had to voice. "In our line of work, is that a bad thing?"

Her brief smile vanished, replaced with the emotionless, professional glare that he'd honestly expected her to never not have. "We're living in a different world now, Richard. ONI doesn't need a boogieman, and neither does Humanity, we need a guiding hand while we rebuild. At the same time, it needs somebody who can make uncomfortable choices when the time comes. You are that person."

Again, Richard was faced with the same question. Were he faced with a situation similar to that he'd faced over Bounty, would he still do what had to be done. Just as he wanted to be able to do the right thing, even if it were a painful thing to do, his own regrets might yet stay his hand, and the potential consequences could, as Parangosky had said, decide whether or not Humanity would live or die.

Richard scowled, his doubts had to be addressed. "And what if we do need a boogieman?"

Parangosky nodded grimly, clearly, this was something she had considered. "Luckily for us both, you'll have mine. Second to last page."

He opened the folder again, flipping all of the way back to the designated paper, which simply contained the litany of access keys that he'd need to access a declassified version of a personnel file, one belonging to a civilian consultant working with ONI. Doctor Catherine Halsey.

"She's an uncooperative bitch, and you shouldn't trust her as far as you can throw her, nor should you rely on her." Parangosky coldly said, finally voicing the vitriol that Richard had expected from her. "She is, however, also a genius. None of us would be here right now if it wasn't for her work. Once you read her file, you'll understand."

He'd heard the rumors, of course. Everybody in the UNSC had. Doctor Halsey was the kind of woman who embodied everything that ONI was, for better and for worse. On one hand, the Spartans, and on the other hand… where they had come from. The fact that she was still alive surprised him, since he'd heard that she died on Reach. Apparently she was a bit harder to kill than that.

"I'm sure that Ackerson would've loved to work with you as well, but…" Parangosky trailed off, lost in thought, before she blinked and shook her head. "We've lost a lot of people, Richard. ONI's going to need to be rebuilt from the ground up, and not just with new blood. I need you to tell me that you can do this."

Could he? Parangosky was not joking when she said that the survival of humanity potentially rested on his shoulders. ONI had been perhaps the greatest advantage humanity had over the Covenant during the war, its weapons programs, masterful gathering of military intelligence, and most importantly, the Spartans. For all of the terrible things that ONI had done, Richard wasn't blind; they were indispensable.

But, perhaps more so even than that, he thought back to Parangosky's comment, that if anybody among the twenty-nine candidates had a soul, it was him. Which raised the rather obvious question; What about the other twenty-eight?

That thought finally gave him the resolution that he needed. "I can do this. Thank you, Admiral."

He signed his name on the final page and passed the paper back to her as she examined him with an indiscernible expression. "No, thank you Richard… and for all of our sakes, I hope that you don't have to do what I did."

He grimly nodded. "What's next?"

"Familiarize yourself with all of that bullshit, to start with," Parangosky said as she gestured to the folder in his hands. As she did so, she stood up, and Richard couldn't help but wince at the way her bones clicked when she left her chair. "After that, meet me in the War Room, Soren will show you the way. Don't take too long, Admiral Hood's a patient man, but it's always wise to make a good first impression."

Richard took a long, deep breath as she left the Odin's Eye, leaving him truly alone as he looked at the folder in his hands. A part of him regretted saying yes, anguished that he hadn't really even fought back as he was handed practical damnation… but the majority of him knew that he'd not been left with much of a choice. The greater good had demanded his commitment, and for better or worse, he was always going to answer, just like he always had.