Outpost Valorant was no taller than three soccer fields. From a layman description, it looked like a hexagonal beer can floating in space. Despite its featureless appearance, the majority of the outpost's space was dedicated to sensor arrays in centre, the only habitable areas located above or below. The command centre itself was located at the bottom, the only thing separating its crews from the vacuum of space being two layers of composite plastics and plexiglass, insulated with kevlar and liquid hydrogen coolant lines. Nonetheless, the command centre was bustling with activity, analysts and specialists working inside symmetrical cubicles with the central lift shafts located behind them. Overseeing the daily operations was the commander, who was speaking on a black telephone receiver from the signaller officer's cubicle, hanging up and leaving moments later.

"The fleets are on the way." He turned and said to his Leftenant, both gentlemen dressed in red tunics and black trousers. "They'll be here in 40 days."

"40 days, sir?"

He curtly nodded his young adult subordinate, the confirmation prompting the latter to rake his right hand through his black hair.

"Stay calm, Leftenant." The brown-haired commander said, his anglo-saxon angular features fully visible to the baby-faced Fusoan. "As long as we can keep an arms length from that battleship, rescue is on the way. As a matter of fact, you heard anything from Ms Maria?"

"No, sir."

"Hmm." He muttered before he peered at his pocket watch, the mechanical gold-tungsten device fastened from inside his single breasted tunic by a chain. "10 minutes and 11 seconds."

"That's a long time. We should bring her back. Something's not r-"

"Sirs," A female crewman said, belonging to one of the cubicles at the front. "Maria has established communications. The battleship is hailing us."

The two officers glanced at each other and strolled up front, but it was the commander who spoke first. "Patch them through, Havelock."

Within seconds, a flatscreen at the front of the cubicles swung from the ceiling, a grey-haired humanoid appeared on screen, his buzz haircut and modest wrinkles granting a slight smile from the commander. The Homonym-built screen allowed the commander to see his counterpart's features, especially his grey uniform and markings, including name patch and ribbons.

"Greetings, sir." The commander said to the equally middle aged man. "My name is Commander Temple Simons. I understand that one of my subordinates have made an attempt to establish communications with your ship. I hope we did not raise any alarms."

"None at all, Commander." Keyes said, his hands behind his back, whereas Simons kept his at this sides. "Our onboard AI made herself acquainted with yours actually. I must apologize for appearing unannounced, it's a long story. Before I provide any explanations, I'm Captain Keyes, Jacob Keyes."

"You pronounced your Rs…that is very strange." Simons thought concurrently, noting the man's accent. "And why are you pronouncing your vowels so short and sharp? It's 'co-mahn-da', not 'co-maen-der'. 'Co-maen-der'…? 'Co-maen-der'…'co-maen-der'. Good lord, that is very interesting."

"Why are you wearing red?" Keyes thought as well. "You get an A+ for dulled ranks and patches, but why are your pants and shoulders black? If history serves me right, that was a reason why the Americans won their War of Independence."

"Hmmmmmm…somebody is a Trekkie." Cortana mused, Maria being the only one hearing her.

"What is a…'Trek-ie'?"

"Uh, nothing." The human AI sniggered before simply saying. "Anyway, it looks like we're coming to an okay start."

Maria simply nodding; however, she left Cortana in silence before whispering. "By the by, the reason we wear red is to distinguish command/tactical specialists. You want to identify commanders, captains, or sergeants, look for the red tunics."

"Ah, I see. Okay. What about the other colors?"

"It's 'cuh-luhs', not 'cu-lers', madame." Maria grumbled, slightly squinting at her counterpart momentarily. "You see those bluecoats over there in the cubicles? Those are engineering specialists. Without them, no power, no water, and no integrity."

"Oh, that would explain all the white noise in the background." Cortana chirped. "I was wondering what was going on over there. They're real busy."

"It's a ten-ten job. You should stay out of their way, though. They're not dangerous, but they are awfully cranky - touch one thing and they'll be all over you."

"I can somewhat understand. I wouldn't like it if somebody messed up my calibrations, never mind my ship."

"Quite right." Maria sniggered. "Then, there are the greencoats over there. They're security specialists. Without them, those two guards behind me wouldn't exist. Oh, right, that reminds me, I forgot to inform you: They're watching you like hawks."

"Oh come on, I don't bite." Cortana purred.

"I know, but they don't." Maria deadpanned amicably, the two guard AIs keeping their weapons tucked closely to their torsos. After a moment in silence, seeing that the Human AI had no obvious queues, Maria murmured. "You have quite an interesting system, Ms Cortana. I'm not psychologist, but you look like you're micromanaging everything."

"I would say the same for your peculiar division of labor. You reduced the workload per individual, but your coordination and supervision looks pretty good, because that would normally be difficult to manage."

"Yes, we do. It's also a matter of redundancy. Still, how do you even manage to do everything? It looks incredibly overwhelming."

"Eh, I manage." Cortana shrugged nonchalantly, leaving the Homonym AI speechless.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere between Simons and Keyes was warm. "Mr Keyes," Simons said. "That is quite an extraordinary story. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that you leave me with more questions than answers. Though I am relieved to know that your arrival was an accident, you must understand that I cannot simply take your word by face value. However, I can see you have clearly been involved in a great battle for survival. Our sensors have noted the plasma burns across your entire hull, which, if I am not mistaken, is entirely made of titanium."

"That is correct, Mr Simons." Keyes said, curtly nodding at the Britannian's last sentence. "Only if we can find a port that we can make emergency repairs. But frankly speaking, you have me at your will."

"Oh? But you outgun me 50-to-1. Not only do you have a mega cannon, you have thirty two missile pods, eight gun batteries, and six autocannons. And, you must excuse my curiosity, but we know you have thermonuclear weapons."

"God dammit, they can see that?!" Keyes uttered internally.

"That's impossible!" Cortana chimed in. "I didn't give anybody permission to look inside!"

"Ms Cortana, is it?" Simons said politely. "Rest assured, I didn't need to send anybody inside, certainly not without your permission. However, plutonium is painfully obvious amid the titanium background."

"That still doesn't answer my question!"

"True, only partially." He said before turning to the left. "Mr Ivushkin."

"Sir?" A 30-something-year-old man said.

"Would you kindly provide your explanation?"

Curtly nodding, the bald greenshirt spoke from his cubicle. "The moment we spotted your ship, we initiated an exterior scan. Our first priority was to gauge your threat level. Your mega cannon was the first and biggest threat, which [upon looking down the barrel] we estimated a bore between six metres to eight metres, and a range of 200,000-300,000 kilometres. We also saw the expended missile pods, including your gun placements. When we initially saw those pods, we initiated Priority Double O, suspecting the stowage of thermonuclear weapons. We came empty handed until we saw one of your hangar bays on the starboard side, which is opened and left to the vacuum of space. Inside, we saw the wreckages of your starfighters, and thus traces of plutonium and lead shielding."

"You made that entire scan from the outside?" Cortana asked gravely.

"Yes, madame."

"Oh, that would explain much. Credit is where it's due, you almost eluded me...if it weren't for the high bandwidth. But on that same topic, I know for a fact that you didn't bother trying to analyze me. Why was that?"

"Why, we couldn't simply kick down the front door, Ms Cortana." Simons said, curtly nodding at Ivushkin to remain silent. "If a bomber was approaching your house, would you use binoculars or an xray machine to look at it?"

"Why, always the binoculars, sir. You can be a peeping Tom and hide the binoculars. An xray machine, though? It's like a giant laser pointer. You're basically screaming 'Hey, I'm over here, shoot me'."

"Yes, now we have a firm grasp of the obvious." The Britannian deadpanned calmly.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Keyes scoffed. "Roger more that for a change."

"You have a way with words, Ms Cortana."

"And you have a way with prevaricating with your answers, Mr Simons." Keyes said bluntly, an uneasy silence between both sides; however, Keyes sighed and spoke again. "But your analysis is correct. We barely managed to fend against two Covenant boarding waves, including one of their cruisers. Our air wing is almost completely decimated, save for a handful of fighters and transports. As for our MAC gun, the bore and range is correct."

"No it isn't." Cortana mumbled, understanding Keyes' deception. "It's more powerful than that."

"Other than the bridge and the port side hanger bay, all the lower decks are quarantined, making half of my ship uninhabitable. But, weaponry should not be your concern."

"No? Then, I'm afraid I don't follow."

Keyes paused to finally reveal his smoking pipe in his right hand, taking a gentle puff before he sighed. "Tell me something: Do you have slipspace technology?"

In return, Simons paused, glancing at his leftenent momentarily before responding. "Slip-space?"

As if on cue, Cortana appeared and said. "It was our standard form of FTL travel until we made the mega-jump from our galaxy to yours. If not for the rings, we wouldn't be here. But needless to say, the 2.1 million light year excursion trashed our slipspace drive. Without a retrofit, we're effectively stranded."

"Ah, I see. How does it work?"

"Sorry, that's classified." Cortana said bluntly.

However, Keyes was listening and said. "Cortana, go ahead and give him an analogy. I believe they'll understand."

Curtly nodding, Cortana cleared her throat and said. "Imagine a line drawn from point 1 to point 9 on a piece of paper - a trip that would normally take 100 years. So, instead, you bend that paper and poke a hole through both points or anything else in between. In essence, we 'slip' through the space between both points, and reach our destination within hours or days. Covenant slipspace drives function identically, except they more or less cut a slit and surgically expand it, not unlike us, where we punch a hole through brute force. Does any of this sound familiar to you?"

The Britannian paused, quietly processing the information and glancing at his colleagues off-screen. But a couple moments passed until he finally said. "That sounds very similar to our hyperspace drive."

"Hyper-space?" Cortana parroted, Keyes equally confused as her.

"That is our standard form of FTL travel, or rather the galactic standard here. Imagine your aforementioned analogy, but instead of folding the paper together, we crumble it together, essentially compressing space to bridge the points together."

"That sounds a lot like a railroad, sir."

"Precisely. You couldn't have used a better analogy."

"Then if that's the case, you really don't have much freedom of movement. Intersections and chokepoints can be easily interdicted by a small well-armed fleet."

"Quite certainly, a bottleneck. I am familiar with the practice as a veteran."

"Well," Keyes mused. "It's a small world, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh I would love to explain it to you, Mr Simons. Since you been so kind, I thought about coming aboard and meeting you face to face."

"You wish to come aboard?"

"Of course."

"Hmm." The Britannian hummed, but he smiled mildly and said. "Very well. I must advise you, however, you will not be able to dock your ship with the station. I don't think I need to explain much or else. However, we have something called a transporter."

"A transporter?" Keyes parroted.

"It's instantaneous teleportation. All we have to do is lock onto your vector and you're inside the station. I don't suppose you have an equivalent?"

"They have teleportation technology?" Cortana whispered in Keyes' head via his neural interface. "That's…that's sci-fi stuff!"

"At ease, Cortana. Now is not the time for bewilderment. That comes later." He shushed her silently.

"None at all." Keyes said bluntly.

"Yes, I didn't think so. Very well. We'll arrange for your arrival and discuss further matters until then. Once you come within range, we will contact you before beaming you in. Does this sound fair?"

"That's a fair deal, Mr Simons. I will see you soon." Keyes said after taking a puff from his pipe. "Oh, by the way, Mr Simons."

"Yes, Mr Keyes?"

"Would it be too much to exchange information between our AIs?"

"As long as they stay out of trouble, certainly, not at all."

"I'll be good, Captain." Cortana chirped. "I won't bite."

"Hmm." Simons chortled calmly. "Cortana…Maria, be nice."

"I'll be okay, Commander." Maria sighed lowly.

With a gentle smile exchanged between the two human officers, Simons spoke first. "Be safe, everyone. Simons, out."

"Roger more so. Keyes, out."

Once communications have been terminated, however, Simons didn't waste a moment's notice to turn towards the Leftenant, where he sternly said. "Kamado, take control of the command centre. I'll be in the ready room when you need me."

"Yes, sir." The Leftenant said; however, when he turned and taken a step, Simons cleared his throat, stopping the baby-faced Fusoan.

"And Mr Kamado, Maria is your responsibility. You are in charge of intelligence, hence your red tunic. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Curtly nodding, the two officers parted ways, Simons particularly disappearing into one of the lifts, last scene checking at his pocket watch again.

Three hours would transpire until the UNSC Pillar of Autumn passed within 1000km of the unfinished mining station, the construction ship, ISS Amani ya Mombasa, having already left the area with all hands aboard. The aluminium skeleton almost shined amid the foreground of Valorant-I, only several areas cladded in composite polymer plates, most of their rivets obviously missing. It would be another ten hours until the Autumn came within view of the orange sun; however, its sensors, courtesy of Cortana, detected a large structure floating in its orbit.

"Outpost Valorant. Hmm…an aluminum and plastic composition, just like that mining station. Thanks for the information, Maria." Cortana analysed internally upon scanning the blocky starbase; however, Keyes saw what she was seeing, and she made no comments. Simply, she continued to analyse the sun and the Homonym-built station. Meanwhile, Keyes reopened the channel, a familiar face reappearing on screen. Promptly, the human said. "Mr Simons, I have you in my sights. You have an interesting place, so to speak."

"And your ship is colossal, Mr Keyes." The Britannian said, his second-in-command nowhere in sight. "Frankly speaking, she looks like an armoured howitzer than a battleship."

"Oh she is no battleship. She was originally a light cruiser, modified for a mission that never came." Keyes said rather proudly.

"I'm terribly sorry."

"Don't worry, she managed to carry us this far. I'll be damned if she starts to fall apart now."

"You have a fine warship, Mr Keyes." Simons said. "But I'm afraid you're going to have to leave her alone for a while. Are you ready to come aboard?"

"Go when ready." Keyes said, his hands free as he stood on the bridge, Outpost Valorant floating in the distance.

"Standby. This will take a few moments." The Britannian said before Keyes spontaneously materialised into a completely different place.

The UNSC captain was not one to be easily startled, but the sudden shift from one place to another earned a jolt from him. He instinctively glanced around, finding himself inside a spacious glass chamber, with transparent cubicle seen on the other side. Unlike the greyish and metallic interiors of UNSC ships, the Homonym-built station resembled a minimalist luxury office interior, its smooth padded floors, walls, and ceiling causing the captain to blink a many times.

"Am I on a civilian or military vessel?" Keyes pondered, otherwise calmly walking out of the chamber and into the middle of the room. The texture and feeling of carpet almost mentally disarmed the battle-hardened captain, but the cobblestone grey floor gave him some inkling of familiarity. Even though the walls and ceilings had a beige colour, years of spacefaring meant that Keyes could instinctively identify his orientation.

On the right side of the room, a grey door manually slid open, revealing a hallway and thus a familiar face.

"Captain, how are you feeling?" Simons asked with a mildly worried gaze.

"Like a fish yanked from one bowl to another." Keyes grumbled, but he retained a friendly blank face as he spoke otherwise. "I've seen worse. That wasn't as bad as I thought."

"Other species of remarked rather similarly. You will acclimate in due time. I'm certain that your comrades will achieve the same as well." Simons said, approaching and greeting him with a handshake. "Welcome aboard Outpost Valorant, Mr Keyes."

"Thank you, it's a great pleasure to be aboard." The human reciprocated. "With due respect, I wouldn't have advised shaking my hand."

"Worry naught, you've been scanned the moment you appeared. For a man that has fought two boardings, you're remarkably unharmed and healthy."

"Thank you. It's not everyday you narrowly escape death and discover a new galaxy, all in two days."

"Much can happen 20 hours."

Keyes had to pause for a moment, tilting his head slight backward left, blankly staring at the 186cm tall Homonym.

"Captain?" Simons asked worryingly, sensing the Human's confusion.

"Mr Simons, may we walk and talk to your office?"

"Why of course." The Britannian said and curtly nodded, the duo turning and walking into the hallway.

"Tell me: How many hours are in a day?"

"Ten hours, or 1000 minutes per day."

"Ten…hours?" Keyes parroted with incredible bewilderment.

"Mhm."

"Well, that's strange, because a day is 24 hours, or 1440 minutes, from our galaxy."

"Eh?" Simon stopped and muttered loudly. "Twenty four hours?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mmm." The Britannian rumbled unpleasantly but modestly. "That's a base 60 number system. That is not easily convertible."

"No?"

"No, sir. We use a base 10 number system called, the metric system."

"Ah, I know what that is, but I'm afraid that leaves me with more questions than answers."

"Well," Simons said before he walked ten ordinary steps and opened another sliding door. "We use the metric system to measure everything. From weight, length, volume, and even time."

"Oh … oh, I see that." Keyes awed, quickly processing and deducing the development, especially when he saw the mechanical clock hanging on the wall. "That is quite ingenious. You make everything based on ten, such as the meter. There's the millimeter, the centimeter, the meter, then the kilometer."

"Of course. I assume your people don't have such a system?" Simons asked as he closed the door and walked behind his dark brown desk.

"We do, but it's not standardized to the same level as yours."

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry to hear." Simons said softly as he sat down. "Have a seat, Mr Keyes. Do you need anything?"

"No thanks." He said and nodded as he seated himself. "I do appreciate you asking."

The Homonym curtly nodded before he pressed his fingertips together, comfortably resting against his backrest. By contrast, the Human had his back straightened, neither comfortable nor tense, his hands resting on his lap. The middle aged gentlemen momentarily eyed each other, but it was Simons who broke the silence. "So, Mr Keyes. We seem to be making ourselves fast friends. I understand you were in a catastrophic predicament many hours ago. This 'Human-Covenant' War you speak of sounds, more or less, a genocide against your species."

"Painfully, yes."

"27 years…Mr Keyes. 27 years. That is simply unimaginable." Simons said softly, his British/Britannian accent tenderly resonating into Keyes' memory. "I am grateful to learn of this information availably thanks to your little helper, Ms Cortana. She has been most helpful in learning about your species and thus your history. Here, we thought it was impossible another mankind exists somewhere out there. But now…I am at a loss for words. You are in every way as alien as you are familiar to us. But, Mr Keyes, make no mistake. We, Homo Mediums, have faced our own share of tragedies and hardships, very few of which cannot compare to the likes of your own."

"Yes, I noticed that as well." Keyes said, leaning slightly forward. "Maria has been as equally helpful as well. I taken a look at your most famous wars throughout history. I still can't believe it ... Hannibal perishing in the Alps? Napoleon dying at Waterloo? No World Wars? And … no insurgencies. You have no idea how much disbelief lingers upon me and my ship. While we were busy murdering each in the millions between 1933 to 1945, you had many smaller wars in that same timeframe."

"Not to mention the addition of two more continents, this 'America' and 'Antartica', so to speak. We did not have these continents to change the course of history, but we are grateful that our wars never last for long. Why should we? They're costly, catastrophic, and carcinogenic. It is only through peace that we are able to travel and accomplish the most."

"Such noble and wonderful principles, but history is VIOLENT, Commander."

"Certainly, we are built on an idealistic foundation. Whether the government remains true to them or not, the values and principles are not never forgotten. We do not expect other species to uphold them either. Quite frankly, I do not expect you more or less the same likewise. You been on the backpedal."

Keyes was silent, but the slight leftward head tilt caught Simons' attention, earning a pause. "Cortana told you everything?" The Human asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, sir. As a captain to another, knowing everything is my job."

"But your patches say otherwise."

"I was demoted…albeit honourably." Simons sighed.

"Honorably demoted?" Keyes parroted.

"I been in the service for 30 years. I was slated to be an admiral for my actions in our most recent conflict, but I refused."

"Refusing promotion? I've never heard of this before."

"It seems you have been in the service as long as me. I recognise those facial scars and wrinkles. That's the face of a man who has lost many friends."

Keyes remained unexpressive on the outside, but he feel his heart softened very slightly.

"Tell me, Mr Keyes. Do you have children?"

"Yes, sir." The Human said, almost wanting to say nothing if not for the modest weight in the Homonym's words. "You?"

"Me too, or…I thought so."

"Please…don't tell me. You lost them?"

"Yes." The Homonym murmured. Though the Homonym was not as expressive, Keyes could feel the heavy weight in his counterpart's voice. He didn't need to ask anything.

"I'm sorry, Commander." Keyes sighed, briefly eying the floor thereafter. "Here I was thinking I lost much. I still have my adult kid. She's in the navy too, like father like daughter."

"That's good…that's very good. But, please, Mr Keyes, don't make the same mistakes I did. My two sons were captains, and they both died in the same conflict. They were the only thing I had left other than my wife."

"What would you have me do?" He asked bluntly.

"Put her in an auxiliary, like administration or medical. She'll be much safer there than risk being jettisoned into the vacuum. My eldest son didn't have a chance, and I didn't listen to the other one. I speak not as of superior rank, but as one parent to another. You do not have to listen to me, but you can consider it to avoid repeating the same mistakes as others."

"That'll be dutifully noted."

"Very well, then." Simons said astutely, now mimicking Keyes' posture. "Let's begin with the basics. I understand that your slipspace drive has been…what was that Cortana said? Trashed?"

"That's correct."

"Hmm, quite right. Quite right. Putting those epistolaries aside, however, we cannot simply indulge our own technologies with yours. Fortunately, I have already alerted the fleet of your presence, and we can be able to help defend against this Covenant."

"That's a fair proposition, Mr Simons." Keyes said, expertly masking the disappointed grumble in his throat. "There are still a few issues that must be addressed, however. First, while I understand that this station only retains the most basic facilities, my crew is in need of medical attention. We depleted much of our medical supplies prior and after our arrival, and whatever repairs we made are only temporary."

There was a pause between the two gentlemen, but Simons finally spoke, a second before Keyes could open his lips. "We can take care of the crew. However, as said, we do not have the equipment available to permit any retrofitting or major repairs."

"That will do just fine. That brings me to my second point." Keyes said, momentarily clearing his throat with a slightly more confidence. "Most of our ammunition had been depleted, especially small arms. I take it you don't know anything about gunpowder weaponry?"

"Gunpowder weapons? Why, certainly, but…we don't use those anymore. The last war we fought with explosive propellents was over 170 years ago, somewhat near the eve of our first trip beyond our star system."

"Ah shit…I figured you would say that."

"However, I don't suppose you know anything about laser weaponry?"

"Lasers? Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation?" Keyes said almost robotically, totally not reciting from his younger days.

"Precisely."

"Oh yes, indeed! Problem is that they're shoulder mounted."

"What colour is your laser?"

The human paused to the question, a frown crinkled on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Is it red or blue?"

"Uh, red."

"Oh…I see. It seems you are using ytterbium-erbium based crystals."

"Yeah…" Keyes said uncomfortably. "We call it Xenotime."

"Yes, I see." Simons leaned slightly forward and pondered. "We don't use those anymore. Recently, we developed something called gamma lasers. You harness the gamma rays from a miniaturised particle accelerator and focus the subsequent beam on any particular target."

"Gamma rays? That's radiation!"

"It's safe as long as the discharges are less than a hundred milliseconds. Any more than that…let's just say it's a rather unpleasantly radiating experience." The Homonym said with an uncannily straight face.

"Oh, you son of a…I saw what you did there." Keyes sniggered internally. "I'm glad Cortana was not here."

"Anyway, they've recently entered service seven years ago. As a matter of fact, I have one in my holster."

"Your holster? I don't see one on your person."

Simons reached his right arm across his chest and patted his left underarm. "That's because it's right here. As a peaceful society, we can't simply walk around with a big stick on our hips, even here."

"There we go again with pacifism…"

"Not to mention, when the enemy does come, they won't suspect you as a threat until it's too late."

"No shit! I knew a completely unarmed crew was too good to be true."

Lowering his arm, Simons cleared his throat as well and said. "Now, on the other hand, laser cannons require the use of a dilithium crystal to amplify its power and range. The point defence system aboard this station is no different. Unlike their handheld counterparts, cryogenic coolant lines can contain the radiation and regulate the weapon's temperature under continuous fire."

"That would explain the enormous energy spikes from your station. You can thank Cortana for this curiosity."

"Ah, yes, you must be referring to our antimatter reactor."

"Antimatter?"

"I'm no scientists and physicist, Mr Keyes; however, it works by combining deuterium and anti-deuterium gases with dilithium crystals, essentially annihilating each other to produce copious amounts of energy and plasma. Quite conveniently, we can use the plasma to strengthen our shields."

"That sounds much like Covenant shielding technology."

"Quite right."

"For some reason, I had a feeling you had more to bear than aluminum and plastic armor."

"It's 'aluminium' and 'armour', sir." Simons grumbled internally. "And for heaven sakes, why do you keep pronouncing your Rs at the end?"

"Well, I wish we could've met under different circumstances. We could use some assistance in our own laser technologies. However, you have answered issue number two. I was going to point out the last issue, but I believe we can figure that one out along the way."

"Oh?"

Keyes paused for a moment and said. "We barely escaped with our lives before we made the 'mega-jump'. Thanks to Cortana, we currently have 27 days until the Covenant manage to reactivate the rings. Even then, we must hurry lest they'll come sooner. I regret to inform you, Commander, that you won't survive a Covenant battle fleet despite exceeding us in certain fields. We don't even know if they'll be arriving with reinforcements."

However, the Homonym was not worried or dismayed by the Human's reality check. Instead, the Homonym listened and watched, neither intently nor dismissively. He waited until the human left a long silence and spoke. "Well, then may I make a suggestion, Captain?"

"Be guest, Mr Simons. Any ideas will be most helpful."

With a gentle, albeit suspiciously cocky, smile, Simons leaned slightly forward and asked. "How much do you know about holograms?"