A/N:I totally forgot to credit my beta reader in the author's notes so far! Give a huge round of applause for the wonderful 8Ball3!

"Careful now... take it slow..."

Tim hissed in frustration as a doctor helped him practice walking, Fischer casually observing the physical therapy session. His new legs felt weak and wobbly; granted, he'd only had them since yesterday, but it was irritating all the same. Thankfully, according to the doctors, Sangheili tended to heal much faster than humans, and it wouldn't take too long for his body to adjust. Indeed, considering the amount of pain he'd endured during the conversion process, it was amazing to him that he was able to stand and move around so soon after the final surgeries. As soon as the day began, he was taken out of bed, given a chance to test some of his muscles, then helped to the therapy room. He still struggled to speak English with his new mandibles, but thankfully Fischer understood Sangheili, which was far easier to speak.

Tim stumbled a bit, but managed to recover by holding on to a handrail. As he steadied himself again, he looked down at his arms, noticing the very visible reminders of his surgery—aside from the new body. ~"Why not heal the surgical scars all the way?"~ he asked, looking to Fischer and speaking in Sangheili.

The question earned a shrug from the ONI rep. "Well, considering your new identity, it's better if you look a little roughed-up. Which is also why we're only giving you the minimal time necessary for physical therapy; it'll help sell your cover story."

~"And what exactly is my cover story?"~

"You are Tam 'Valarmee; you were born into the Covenant on their holy city of High Charity and have served for 35 years aboard the cruiser Purity and Grace," Fischer responded matter-of-factly. "Unfortunately, during the Conquest of Q'ydo—known to humanity as the Battle of Ballast—the Grace was destroyed, you were captured by UNSC forces, and have suffered greatly during your imprisonment. Thankfully, your captors were rather foolishly loose-lipped and accidentally gave up information on the location of several undiscovered human colonies inside the region of the galaxy most recently conquered."

The mention of human colonies stopped Tim in his tracks. ~"Wait, I'm going to give them info on how to attack us?!"~

"Not us, per se," Fischer waved dismissively; "these are insurrectionist-controlled colonies of no strategic importance. What happens to them doesn't really matter—except for the fact that by sending fleets to those planets, the Covenant will be forced to slow their push into the inner colonies."

Tim remained silent for a while as the sheer callousness of the agent's response sank in. He'd fought Innies before as a human, but to do it with the intent of completely wiping them out... and then inevitably aiding and abetting the inevitable glassing? That would be difficult to handle. True, the Insurrectionists' idiocy and insistence on continuing their war of independence even as the Covenant attacked had cost Humanity several worlds, and had threatened the overall war effort more than once. But enemy faction or not, the Insurrectionists were still human.

I can do this, Tim reassured himself. I'm helping humanity by spying and by eliminating threats in the process. Speaking of which... ~"How will the actual spying part work?"~

"The ocular implant we placed in your left eye will record everything you see and hear, and the device will regularly send out subtle pings that piggyback off of Covenant slipspace comms. We'll be sifting through any and all chatter for that signal, and tracing it back to keep track of you."

~"Good thing their security protocols are shit."~

"Indeed," Fischer nodded before continuing. "As for your parameters, focus on internal politics, strategic methodology, war plans, and the like. If you find an opportunity to assassinate high-level leadership—especially prophets—seek to do so, but remember that you can't give us any information if you're dead and choose your moments carefully. In the event you think that your identity may be compromised, work the phrase 'purely from the heart' into a sentence. That will send a ping informing us; as soon as you get a pingback, follow the instructions you receive and we'll extract you. After that, we'll debrief you and begin the process to make you human again."

That last part had better be true, Tim thought to himself. As well as this had gone so far, ONI didn't exactly have a reputation for caring about what happened to their assets. ~"How will the insertion work?"~

"Well, to start with, we'll need to stage your escape and provide a way for you to be 'rescued'. We've secured an old corvette, as well as a dumb AI capable of piloting it solo; both are scheduled for decommission anyway, so the AI can easily just scuttle the ship and itself as per protocol before the enemy knows any better. It'll go something like this..."

Two weeks passed. During that time, Tim was briefed on Sangheili and Covenant culture and history, as well as known details of their religion and social conventions. In addition, though he practiced vocalizing English sounds—and had eventually managed to do moderately well with them—he conversed exclusively in Sangheili in all interactions, regardless of how brief. He practiced with covenant firearms and went through basic swordsmanship, but his new body meant that he would need additional practice—which he could easily pass off as the result of recovering from extended imprisonment and torture. He practiced referring to himself by his new name, and using common Covenant sayings and turns of phrase, all while continuing his physical therapy. To his surprise, the doctors truly were not lying when they spoke of how quickly Sangheili recovered; in fact, even they were shocked at the rate, resulting in them having to cut the therapy short just to keep him from fully regaining complete control of his body to a degree that it would affect his cover story's believability. Finally, the day of reckoning. The first day of his new life and mission. As he boarded the transport that would carry him to his assignment, Tim muttered one last phrase in English under his breath:

"One giant leap for mankind..."

Khor 'Taremee clicked his mandibles in irritation as he sat in his seat on the bridge of the frigate Great Inspiration. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong to be assigned such a pointless patrol, but he was certain that SOMEONE must have had a grudge against him or something. Perhaps it had something to do with the incident involving that failed assault on the Kig-Yar pirate fleet; after all, why else would any Sangheili with experience like his be sent on a fool's errand? True, the region he was patrolling had only been taken from the heretical human scum within the last few months or so, but by all reports it was quite empty of hostile forces. The Inspiration and its crew had spent the better part of several days, with not even the slightest sign of human activity. This was no job for a veteran of so many glorious battles as him, let alone the contingent of special operations Sangheili who had been stationed with him.

They must have angered someone even higher up than me, Khor reasoned; it wasn't their fault our intelligence was faulty. Nor mine. Damn those Jackal scum...

"Shipmaster! We are picking up a distress signal!"

Khor was snapped out of his thoughts by the chief communications officer. "What is the source?"

The officer frowned. "Odd... the signature is coming from one of those small human dropships... but it's definitely a Sangheili encryption."

"Hmm..." Khor considered the implications for a moment or two. "Suspicious, but if it is true, then we are honor-bound to aid them—we cannot leave a brother or sister behind."

"And if it is a trap, Shipmaster?"

"Then we spring it," Khor responded, "And show the humans what little their tricks will avail them against the Covenant! Patch the signal through, and move towards the source—carefully, though, with all hands prepared for combat, guns and shields at the ready."

*"...information on important human outposts! Repeat, this is Tam 'Valarmee, formerly of the Purity and Grace! I have escaped custody by the heretics and am under attack! I have obtained information on important human outposts!"*

As the ship closed in on the origin, the passive sensors detected heat from human ship weapons; someone was firing at someone, which at the very least lent plausibility to the distress call. "Officer, hail the source of the signal," Khor directed; upon confirmation of connection, the veteran shipmaster spoke confidently and clearly. "Tam 'Valarmee, this is Shipmaster Khor 'Taremee of the frigate Great Inspiration. We have received your signal and are moving to assist at once."

*"By the rings, a friendly voice! Shipmaster, I have stolen one of their transports and managed to avoid the bulk of their forces, but a corvette caught up to me and is firing upon me!"*

"Courage, brother. We are more than prepared to handle such a pitiful excuse for a ship; maneuver towards us at our point 2-8-15 and prepare for extraction. We will then unleash a heavy volley on the enemy vessel, and bring you aboard with all swiftness."

*"At once, Shipmaster! This transport has proven to be a terrible annoyance of its own; I would be terribly grateful to see it destroyed as well once I am aboard."*

Khor chuckled. "Of that, I am certain. All weapons fire, on my command! Burn these heretics to ash!"

As expected, the human corvette was no match for a heavy volley from a Covenant frigate; in a matter of moments, a strong hit to its engines had resulted in the vessel being blown nearly in half, just in time to pull the heavily damaged—but otherwise functional—transport into the main hangar.

Fools above may hate me and mine, Khor mused, but clearly the Gods influenced them to send us here. A brother rescued, and the promise of battle against the heretics? Divine intervention, indeed.

Inside the pelican, Tim sighed in relief at the success of the plan; now came the hard part: the actual spy work. He'd sold his performance over comms, but in mere moments he'd have to do it to the enemies' faces. I killed in my college drama course, I can do this... Slowly, the pelican came to a stop as it entered the frigate's hangar; taking a moment to 'get into character' more, he braced himself for the welcoming committee. The hatch hissed, then opened... and Tim felt his planned words of gratitude nearly vanish at the sight of the face greeting him.

No fucking way. This is beyond ridiculous. The galaxy is NOT that fucking small.

"Welcome aboard, brother," the Sangheili in front said with a cheerful glint in his eye. "I am N'Tho Sraomee. The Shipmaster wishes to speak with you on the bridge."

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