At Orion's Edge
Prelude –
The events of Halo 4, 5 and Infinite never occurred.
The Great War has ended.
The Covenant has imploded, its collective reorganized as the Grand Hegemony.
Strained, exhausted, and faced with instability, the United Earth Government collapsed, rebuilt as the United Human Federation.
Both powers have isolated themselves in tentative peace.
For decades this lasted, though challenged over the Forerunner legacy and everything involved with sovereignty.
From the galactic center, something arrived.
At war with an unknown force, the UHF and United Nations Space Command rapidly deploy military assets.
There was a battle above the world, New Victoria.
A ship, The Pillar of Creation, has gone missing…
The year is 2622.
Chapter 1: From the Void
A Spartan V
Location: 150 light years from Sol, away from the galactic center.
First was the sensation of drowsiness, the kind after a long sleep. Second was the feeling of a deep, warm chill. Third was the lack of light.
It felt like I was lying on an angle, pressed against padding and a tight space. Shifting around I felt something rub against my skin… like a suit. The skin… a second skin… and plating.
Through the bleariness I could see chilled glass and faint lights, it seemed… familiar. I recognized the gray metal framed, with… reinforced glass.
Thoughts of panic came forth, subdued as though a depressant had been injected. I wanted to fight, but I felt extremely tired. I wanted out, but I didn't know why or where to go.
Breath in… exhale…
Where… where was I? A pod… it had to be a cryotube. Was this flash thaw? No… too slow. Had to be the beginning stages.
Light gradually intensified, the bleariness turning to blindness. The temperature rose, too hot then too cold, and as though a switch had been flipped my mind began racing. Gradually the eyesight returned, and vision became clearer. Well defined lines of the cryotube's metal interior interlocked with glass and wire. The glass fogged, obstructing any further view of the outside, and desperately wanting to see the outside my hand brushed against the casing, removing a thick layer of fog and frost.
The room… I'm in the chamber.
A quick search for the pod's interface showed it was to my right as a dimly lit display. It took several minutes and a mental facepalm trying to figure out how to work the device. With my neural link, a connection was made. As quickly as the display lit up, the interface reappeared directly in front of me.
I'm in my armor.
A diagnostic of the pod's integrity shows it is at baseline. I checked my health readings to for an understanding of my well-being.
Steady heartbeat, normal blood pressure, lungs appear fine, no abnormalities.
What's the status of the ship? If I wasn't careful, I could accidentally expel myself into a vacuum. Readings from the interface showed an atmospheric pressure of 14.7 psi with temperatures at -0.5 celsius (much lower than the 18 to 22 range designated by charter).
No sign of hull breaches.
Alarming was the lack of power. The interface wasn't clear if this was an issue with the reactor or its delivery system. I could only hope it was the latter as there would be no way for me nor any of the personnel to fix it.
Why was I awake? Dash wasn't keen to pull me from cryo without reason. The crew's involvement had to be discounted given their lack of presence. If this was an error, it'd be better to take my medicine (the cytop and bronchial) and go back to sleep. No, something went wrong.
With my neural link, I began a message–
S7:dash, you there?
…
No response…
I checked the pod's connection with the servers. Repeated signal tests indicated that only the backups were online.
S7:dash?
…
Definitely need to get out of the pod.
Without the AI, I would need to do a manual override. With several command prompts, I began the process–the pod's lights dimmed, and a red light appeared near my feet. Focusing on it for several seconds caused the light to blink green, and another appeared. (Similar measures were built into the most modern cryo tubes, from Mark IX and on, as a safety precaution. It tested the occupant's cognitive capacity before releasing them. The number of accidents caused by sudden awakening due to a mishap from the occupant's misjudgment had made procedures like this necessary. Better to have someone fully aware of their surroundings rather than setting them loose and confused.)
The process repeated until a message displayed–
DASH:unseal?
INPUT:Y/N
–which immediately ceased the procedure. The lights soon intensified.
I released a breath I had unknowingly been holding. A sense of relief flooded over me as the AI seemed to be present. It was concerning how the "yes" had been bolded over "no".
S7:status?
DASH:limited
…
DASH:unseal?
INPUT:Y/N
S7:are you damaged?
DASH:no
…
DASH:time sensitive
DASH:unseal?
INPUT:Y/N
Concerning…
S7:compromised?
I dreaded the answer, more so out of its implications.
…
DASH:no
I shifted myself for when the pod opened. I wasn't going to get satisfactory answers sitting in the pod.
S7:Y
A slow hissing grew in volume. As sudden as it appeared it stopped, and the glass cover lifted to reveal a new scene of small, brightly lit LEDs in a chamber frosted thrice over as though years went by. I surveyed the other cryo pods and the room. The chamber was circular, its walls lined with the tubes and the occasional terminal, and at its center a pillar with medical equipment. Immediately apparent were the five others that were open… and empty.
S7:crew?
…
DASH:dead
Shit.
A sudden panic welled within, only to quickly dissipate. It's only Dash's word. It's possible he's misreading their status. Is it probable that he's wrong? Not likely.
The primary objectives now included bringing power to the ship, assessing its status, and determining the exact health of the crew (or lack thereof). Locating them could be done through the ship's system, which circles back to the first two objectives.
I remembered storing my rifle and sidearm in the tube's right compartment. Unlatching its panel and having the weapons equipped, I checked for ammo and chambered rounds. Quick inspection showed the rifle to be an MA11K carbine and the side arm an M6D (known as the miniature hand cannon given its unbelievable stopping power). I had two magazines for the rifle (32 rounds each) and 3 for the side arm (12 rounds each). The M6 clasped to my thigh, and I wielded the rifle in a standard grip.
I checked my armor's integrity. Nothing on it appeared broken or loose, and its monitor showed full integrity. Satisfied, I initialized a reboot. It took several seconds for the heads-up display (HUD) to come into view, displaying the ammo counter to my bottom right, motion tracker to the left, and shield display top center.
Shield capacity currently shows 0. Let's fix that.
Gen 4 models would allow shields to self-reboot without the use of external assistance, this being thanks to the advances in power delivery. The charge needed would take a few minutes.
I began another message to Dash.
S7:hostiles?
…
DASH:no hostiles
…
DASH:unlikely
DASH:need sensors
DASH:need power
Let's get you power then.
S7:directions?
A ping sounded through my helmet with a message–
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:prime shields?
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:y/n
S7:y
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:priming, standby…
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:5
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:4
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:3
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:2
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:1
A sudden golden glow enveloped my form, the familiar whir of the shields coming to life.
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:initiate shields?
G4 MJOLNIR SYS:y/n
S7:y
A sudden snap emerged in a bright flash, the sounds of whirring shields coming to life in smooth melody. The indicator–an elongated bar at the top of the HUD–showed they were working. Proper tests needed to be done, though that would have to come later. It took only a few seconds for them to reach full charge.
A waypoint was displayed on the HUD of the nearest exit. I made my way out of the room and into the adjoining corridor. It was darker and somewhat colder than the cryo bay. The occasional LED provided some lighting. I checked my surroundings, sweeping the immediate area with the rifle aimed. Once cleared, I continued.
`Arthur, can you hear us?`
The trek took time as I checked branching corridors and rooms. I was certain nothing else was on the ship, but the whole scene put that into doubt. No motion registered within a 20-meter radius. Everything is quiet.
I headed for the engineering deck, towards a subsection dedicated to power systems. Rounding a corner brought me to an entryway, the heading "CIRCUIT BREAKER 01" being etched in white above. The doorway unlocked itself as I approached, retreating into the wall. Beyond is a room of wires and terminals, at its center a large device sat with cables sprouting out of the top and bottom, on its front a sign cautioning the presence of high voltage. Along the ceiling were several cameras, a typical security measure on most star ships to deter unwanted activity by passengers or crew.
Quick examination didn't reveal any noticeable damage on its exterior. Four man-sized ports dotted its sides, two on each. It wasn't obvious as to what the issue was regarding power.
I clasped the rifle to my back holster.
S7:dash, guidance?
Part of my training included how to operate starships, which meant knowing the ins and outs of power systems, though I was not an engineer by any measure. With Dash available, it made no sense to diagnose the issue on my own.
DASH:see console 4
My HUD highlighted one of the nearest consoles, and I made over to it.
…
DASH:settings: switches 6a, 7a, 7d, and 8c to neutral–
It was moments of hitting a few buttons, flipping a switch here and there, and adjusting a few dials. With that done, the last item was a lever. In grabbing and pulled down–
*click*
The room was flooded with light, and a deep humming could be heard within the ship's hull.
I called out through the comms: "Dash, do you read?"
…
"I have eyes on you, sir." His voice sounded through my helmet.
One of the security cameras flashed green for a second.
"Welcome back to the living," I responded. I smiled behind my visor. It was a bittersweet moment that even with the crew dead, I still had him.
"Same to you, sir."
As much as I wanted to catch up, there were more pressing matters.
"Dash, what's the status of the Pillar?"
"She is still operational. I'm running a diagnostic now. May I suggest heading towards the bridge? We will be able to fully discern her condition once there."
"And the others?"
"… Suicide I'm afraid."
Suicide?
"Damn…"
The tragedy we had seen on New Victoria left us in an unstable place. Their passing… I wasn't sure what to make of it. On the surface, it's a shitty deal as they were good people, and it left only me and Dash to man the ship.
"It's just us then?"
"Just us, sir."
A twitch of nervousness struck at my mind with a thought.
"Nothing else snuck aboard?"
"No sir, nothing else. I would have made sure of it."
"Not good enough. We need another sweep of the ship… let's make that three. Can you do that?"
I have to be certain the parasite is still nonexistent.
"Of course, running now."
I exited the room and made my way to the nearest lift.
"Continued exposure of the main reactor saw its integrity fall. Our last jump exasperated the issue. My primary hypothesis is that a combination of plasma and shrapnel not only penetrated the outer shell but damaged the systems to keep cold fusion stable."
We traveled in one of the lifts to the center deck, where the bridge is located at the center of the ship, just above where the hangers are located. Changes to United Nations Space Command (UNSC) doctrine prompted vessels to be designed for further protection of the bridge and crew. The ship's bridge was designed with that in mind, providing the most protection out of other frigates.
The Pillar of Creation's hull fell under the Highliner class of medium-assault frigates. Modifications were made for it to fulfill the role of a reconnaissance ship, meant for long-term missions in probing planetary objects and mapping attack vectors. Efforts were made to conceal its signature, making it practically invisible on mid to long range sensors. It is certainly no prowler (or "bat") in terms of active camo. These additions meant having to sacrifice its primary armament, its Mark VII heavy coil/Magnetic accelerator cannon (MAC gun). While removing the gun itself would have been a monumental task, the modularity of the Highliners made the process easier.
It wasn't expected to engage with large battle groups, but it could hold off a small fleet of CCS-class battlecruisers. For this, the Pillar was given 6 additional autocannons and 4 point-defense turrets–a total of 22 and 16 respectively.
Though none of this mattered without sufficient power. With the condition of the reactor, both the guns and the 24-or-so archer pods could still be used. The use of shields is questionable given their some-times power intensive nature. At the very most, we could guarantee their strength to be minimal, enough to stop several autocannon and plasma rounds.
"Where does this leave propulsion?" I asked.
"The repulsor drives operate at minimal capacity. The ship would have trouble escaping a gravitational pull of 8.00 meters per second squared. I've had to sever their power due to other issues with the reactor."
"And the translight engine?"
"Out of the question."
I sighed, "Here's hoping you weren't planning on taking her for a joy ride."
"Of course not, sir."
Our escape from New Victoria wasn't kind to the Macedon Engine. Though a huge improvement over the Shaw-Fujikawa Engine, it still had limitations. Turns out that multiple slip-space jumps in quick succession tends to overload them. Our last jump had effectively rendered them irreparable.
The lift doors opened to reveal the bridge. It followed the traditional layout with terminals lining the sides of the room. The captain's computer–a collection of three monitors rising from the floor all the way to the ceiling and with consoles before each–sat on one side of a raised holographic table–centered and placed on a raised deck. Near the end of the room was a monitor covering the entire wall, and before it a row of terminals with a combination of digital and analog controls.
I made my way over to one of the consoles, Dash being kind enough to provide access credentials. Given that I was the only surviving member of sufficient rank, I effectively had full access to the ship. Were I a civilian, Dash would have sat me in a corner and assumed command.
I dug into the reports.
Damn…
Dash briefed me on the main reactor being damaged. Readings were inconsistent with random temperature spikes. They coincide with extreme fluctuations in power. For cold fusion, this is concerning.
Dash chimed: "As you can see, a 'joy ride' would be disastrous."
I stared at the monitor's camera.
"A poor jest?"
I turned back to the monitor. The last spike triggered the circuit breaker, which would explain why there was no power to begin with.
"Any explanation on the reactor going haywire?"
"A compromise to the deuterium mix is the most likely cause. Readings show trace amounts of helium and argon have contaminated the mix, likely sourced from the plasma."
"Can we keep it stable?" Fixing it would be a whole other issue and take too long given the circumstances. Having it stabilized would give Dash time needed to come up with a permanent fix.
"I would need to increase the circulation of coolant to control for excess heat. Systems requiring an excessive draw of power runs the risk of overload. Manual adjustments to the circuitry will also need to be made to compensate for the power spikes. I'd much like to avoid another black out if possible."
"So do I."
FTL travel was most certainly still a no-go, even if the engines were in good condition. Engines of similar purpose drew the most power on UNSC starships. This also removed the use of EMP gun as well as the shields (though questionable).
Next on the checklist is communications. We made sure that comms were fully operational before our long nap. Without the Macedon engines, getting home meant having to call for rescue. The best hope was a passing ship belonging to either UNSC, Confederacy of Independent Colonies (CIC), or United Human Federation (UHF) would be able to pick it up. As far as we knew, there is still interest in exploring this wild region of space. Alternatively, contact with the Hegemony could be made but wasn't ideal. Humanity and the former collective of races had loose relations since The Great War, rarely seeing eye-to-eye on territory and politics though there is still a desire to keep the peace. Exceptions were made of Kig-Yar who, collectively, could give two shits less about borders. Also not ideal is contact with The Nous, though given the distance from their worlds, this is extremely unlikely. Afterall, we ran from them.
"Did we make contact with anyone?" I asked.
"I'm afraid not, just dust and echoes."
Not good.
"How long were we out?"
It hadn't crossed my mind at how long I had been sleeping.
"4 years and 321 days by Earth standard."
Damn, that overshot our estimate! Was no one hearing us? Are we being ignored?
I instinctively brushed my hand against the back of my helmet. The stress of the situation is getting to me.
Stay calm, she at least has power and working repulsor engines. That's more than enough to work with.
Waking up to the news of a dead crew, a failing ship, and being stranded beyond the frontier of known space did not do well for my mental state. My younger self would certainly have panicked.
"Sir?"
I took a deep sigh. Inhale… exhale…
"How are you feeling?"
How was I feeling?
"Dash?"
"Minor therapeutics, we've gone through this briefly before your sleep."
Right, and the mediation, reading, anything to occupy the mind.
"Just don't want to die in space."
Not like the crew. We didn't make it this far to perish.
"No one does, sir."
Inhale… exhale…
"How are you feeling?"
"... Not great, not terrible either."
"Is this because of our peril, or because of what happened on New Victoria?"
I moved away from the monitor, pacing towards the center table. I leaned forward to rest myself over its ledge, careful not to place too much weight so as to avoid breaking it.
Before me, Dash appeared in his holographic form in a blue tint. He took on the style of an early 1900s, Western butler in his forties; a Caucasian in a black suit and red bow tie with combed black hair and a clean shave.
He showed a concerned look. "It is completely understandable if you still need time."
I hummed in response.
In the time I knew Dash, it struck me that part of him had an empathetic side. Most other smart AIs tend to be more no-nonsense. The only other AI of similar capacity would be Mother.
There was a comfortable silence for several minutes.
"Do you miss them?"
"Hmm?"
"Your team."
"Of course I do." It's not as though I could forget their faces. They were like family. I can't say I shared the same connection with the ship's crew given we had just met.
Another minute of silence passed, then I released a sigh. I get it, Dash.
"We should schedule more talks."
"I'll be fine."
"That was not a question."
"Dash, only I can decide on therapy," I drawled.
"... Very well, sir," he drawled back.
"You're not giving me enough credit, you know."
"Now now, your mentors may have taught you well, but I'm certain they didn't tell you to be cocky."
"They slapped that out of me early on." I then turned to the AI, intent on changing the subject, "Nearly five years, you holding on well?"
"I'm 100% operational, not rampant." He answered blandly.
"Other than that?"
The AI paused for a second, "I have no complaints, sir. Though the monotony of certain tasks–routine debugging and systems maintenance–has worn me considerably. I can only be grateful that we are still alive and not bits and pieces of an exploded ship."
"Is that something you want to talk about?"
"Perhaps when we are finished. I wouldn't mind recreation, that is once the day's tasks have concluded."
"You can have fun?" I asked with amusement.
"I've developed a passion for musical theory. Such a fascinating thing to determine how best to assemble sound."
Huh, he has a hobby.
"Are we talking classic rock or Beethoven?"
"All of it."
"Bullshit."
"It's true, sir," he nearly exclaimed.
"You and I know the ship's servers don't carry that kind of… Ah, I see."
"It was before we even left the 26 Draconis System."
"How much musical theory did you download?" I asked in exasperation.
"Hardly a dent, only 50 terabytes worth."
That's acceptable… Hell, it's not as though the crew would have stopped him.
I briefly contemplated the next item. Time to get back to work.
"What's our current orbit?" I pushed myself up to stand.
Our last known location placed us within some 10 lightyears away from the central systems, and 200 light years away from Nova's Bridge (a cluster of stars bridging the Orion Spur to Perseus Arm). We were somewhere just beyond the edge of the CIC–once part of the Outer Colonies. There were also some systems in the general vicinity once controlled by the Covenant, though their current status is unknown.
Our slip-space trajectory landed us in orbit around the star Cassius, a class G main sequence star. We jumped approximately 6 billion kilometers from it with the intention of leaving for a nearby colony in a month's time (which didn't happen for clear reasons).
Dash turned to face the center of the console. A projection of the star system came into existence. The planetary objects shown–2 gas giants, 3 barren, and 1 habitable world–were aptly named Cassius I through VI from smallest to largest orbit. The orbital path of the Pillar was displayed.
"It's been decaying."
The projected orbit soon contracted… right into the surface of Cassius VI, one of the gas giants…
Dash turned to face me; his arms folded behind him. "The change was gradual, not enough to warrant the use of the repulsor engines. When the reactor spiked, power was delivered against my wishes. As mentioned before, I disconnected them."
"Can you get us stable?"
"I can." With a wave of his hand, the projected orbit became circular. "We'd have approximately 58 days to adjust, plenty of time I should say."
At the projection, I took a glance at where the other planets were in relation to us.
`… You all abscond, the anima impure.`
I pointed towards one, "What about an orbit here?"
The presence of Cassius III was unexpected when we arrived. The planet sat right in the goldilocks zone, hosting a living biosphere sufficient for colonization (notwithstanding the needed studies of said biosphere, the atmosphere, and natural resources). What's more, it has signs of civilization. Simple astronomical observation revealed specs of light on the planet's night side, indicating the use of electricity (or other form of energy). We at first didn't know if it was a missing colony, yet given the UNSC having no record of any settlement in-system, we were led to conclude that we had stumbled upon a primitive species.
The inhabitants didn't seem capable of receiving our hails, that or they chose to ignore us. From continued observation, Dash guessed them to be a tier 6 (industrial) or tier 5 (atomic) civilization. Initially, with UHF and UNSC doctrine on first contact, avoiding communication seemed optimal. We had nothing to gain from them. It's not as though we could drop in the neighborhood and ask for a shiny new fusion reactor. That would be silly. Our current predicament had me reconsider that policy.
Dash faced the projection again, the orbital path shifting into 1000s of different forms before finally settling on one…
"Our surest path would endanger the reactor. I cannot guarantee a stable orbit once we arrive" Dash replied.
In terms of other orbits to take, one option would be entering a far orbit (again) of at least 6 billion kilometers from the star. With the combination of no-contact from humanity or the other races, our broken translight engines, and the erratic reactor made it likely that we'd be stuck for a long time. A far orbit would keep our signature hidden, but that point is moot given that we had likely lost our pursuers. Orbiting any other planet ran the same issues with the added risk of planets fucking with our broadcasts and with us being caught in their gravity. Really, this all circles back to cryo sleep, and I was done sleeping. If this all was the case, may as well be stuck around a habitable world.
"Are you certain this is a wise decision? Rules of first contact–"
"I can read up on the material on our way there. There's a good chance the top brass will make an exception for us." Wouldn't hurt to review those documents.
"I take it we are to execute then?"
"Yes."
I stood up from the console and made my way over to the central monitor. "You have images of our destination?" I removed my helmet, air hissing around the seal as I unlocked and pulled it off. Gripping around the inner rim, I let it hang to my right. No point in keeping it on.
Within seconds, an image of the planet displayed. Visible were five continents separated by oceans, with smaller islands dotting its surface.
One of the northern continents had a deep, unnatural, black hue to it. It looked as though some great fire had spread across its landmass. Strange enough, it showed no signs of development–no lights, roads, or cityscapes.
In contrast to the other mainlands, they all sported some sign of civilization: the southern continent hosting two cities; one settled in the center of its desertscape; the other settled along the north-western coastline to its east, surrounded by sizable forests and a mountainous range to its southeast. To the east rested a third landmass, its urban center amongst deep valleys and cliffs bordering what seemed to be marshlands. The last, most notable continent to the north had its city located amongst glacier fields and tundra, nestled against mountains to its north. Pockets of smaller settlements–evident by the pinpricks of light–can be seen dotting the rest of Cassius III's surface.
Strange, if they are as advanced as we anticipate, why haven't they expanded?
I felt the ship begin the lurch forward, the engines coming to life giving vibrations throughout the ship's hull. Inertial dampeners lessened the effects of the acceleration, and the vibrations soon ceased.
"What's our ETA?"
"At current acceleration, I'm anticipating 5 months. As long as the reactor's integrity holds, that time should be trimmed down to 3 months or less."
I turned back to the center console, setting the helmet down to my right. As I looked down the screen, a reflection of firm blue eyes met my gaze.
"I need to know what happened to the crew."
The reflection was soon replaced with images of the personnel, accompanied with the relevant files.