So, here we are, the next chapter following the Battle of Praetor and the capture of the Meta. Thought it would take way less time to write this chapter initially, but life threw a few curveballs my way, delaying the chapter by a bit. I hope you guys understand.

And now we come a bit of downtime for the Reds and Blues. They will all need it for the coming journey.


Regroup and Rearm

Location: UNSC All or Nothing, Praetor Low Orbit

Time: 0705 Hours

Date: July 05, 2557

Leonard Church stood on the balcony overlooking the ship's miniscule brig, leaning over the railing, his gaze dropped into the main holding area. Unless it was a prison ship, most modern UNSC ships only had a small section of their rather limited infrastructure meant for holding prisoners or mutineers. They had even less room as it was considering they were on a frigate.

Below, in the central holding cell, sat Agent Maine, who had remained surprisingly motionless and compliant the entire way up. Yes, he did need a little goading from Sarge, but that had largely been due to the Freelancer's lack of knowledge of where to go on the ship as well as the pent-up anger and aggression from the Red and the rest of the team. A team of soldiers was just outside, their movements tense, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice if he did anything fishy.

Church himself was less than pleased at Washington's decision. Maine was a ticking time bomb, one that had virtually incapacitated every single member of Blue team and beaten down Red team, though not as harshly as the former. He came deathly close to killing Tex again and he'd even almost beaten Carolina. It was only supposedly when he 'changed', as Carolina put it, that he stopped attacking them. But that still didn't stop the animosity he and the others felt towards the mute Freelancer.

The former AI frowned. Each and every one of them had been battered by the fight. Sarge, Donut, and Simmons had taken hits from the Scorpion cannon barrel the Meta had used as a club. Grif had suffered a fractured rib from the repeated stomping the Freelancer unleashed upon him. And Caboose was suffering from massive headaches, possibly the early symptoms of a concussion according to Doc. Great, as if he needed even more brain damage on top of what he already had.

But, worst of all, was Tucker. The former pervert, his best friend, had his arm snapped near the shoulder plate. Doc noted that the break was clean, and that it would be easier to reset and heal than Grif's wounds. But it would take time. And it stilled looked painful. That he'd been able to use his arm at all once it had been broken was nothing short of a miracle.

Church remembered Tucker's scream, a chill crawling up his spine at the thought, and scowled at the brutish Freelancer below. Maine could never pay enough for all the pain and hardship he'd dealt to them alone, not to mention the countless others, Freelancer and UNSC alike.

A pair of metal boots snapped to the ground next to him and he jumped, ready to fight whoever decided to get up into his space. He relaxed upon recognizing the familiar imposing form of Agent Illinois appear right beside him.

"Did I scare you?" the Freelancer asked, his head cocked to the side.

Church glared at him before blowing out a breath. "No," he answered. He took his original spot on the railing, leaning on it and continuing to watch the EVA-armored Freelancer.

"Well, maybe a little," he admitted a second later, sparing Illinois a glance.

The green-and-blue Freelancer let out a chuckle before settling on the rail next to him. It became apparent just how much larger the man was than him, now that they were side-by-side. Illinois stood at least half-a-head taller than him, maybe even more, his gold visor gleaming from the ship's lights. His hands were large, big enough to make his look like a teenager's. He looked like he should've been a lumbering beast, uncoordinated and unwieldy. But he had seen him in combat, his efficiency. He was frighteningly fast, so much so that it seemed unnatural. He made Church feel small. Hell, he might've even made Maine and North Dakota seem small, and those two were taller than him. He could only imagine just how small he made Tex feel in comparison.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, the sound of humming generators and the distant whirring of the Shaw-Fugikawa drive the only thing breaking the otherwise still air. It would've been peaceful if it wasn't for the brig's lone occupant. He wasn't doing anything at the moment, but his mere presence was enough to put Church on edge.

"So," Church finally spoke, breaking the silence, "what happened down there? Did you manage to get inside? Did you get…". He trailed off letting his words hang in the air.

"Him?" Illinois finished.

Church nodded once.

Illinois sighed, shaking his head. "We did manage to clear out the facility. Found where they were holding Maine. Unfortunately, we didn't find him."

The former A.I. clenched his fists around the railing. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, he was always proven wrong. "Just our fucking luck," he spat out.

The Freelancer nodded in agreement. "There didn't even look like there was any indication he had been there recently either."

"God damn it!" Church swore. He wanted to hit something, the previous day's fatigue making him more frustrated than normal. "So we came all this way for nothing?"

"Well," Illinois responded, "technically no."

He glared at the Spartan. "Do not talk about the Meta as if he is a good thing."

Illinois shook his head. "I never said it was a good thing, just that he was something as opposed to nothing."

Church went back down to watching the white Freelancer. "Smartass," he muttered.

They went back to brooding in silence. Well, he was brooding. He wasn't so sure Illinois was.

A nagging thought came to him. "Why did you tell Wash to keep him alive?" he questioned, though it sounded more like an accusation.

"I didn't," the Freelancer said. "I only suggested that Carolina may have been on to something in regard to his change of behavior."

"Oh don't give me that," the cobalt soldier snapped, suddenly pivoting to face the larger man. "I've seen the way the Freelancers have been acting around you, especially Tex. You've got them wrapped around your finger and they treat your word as if it's gospel, like you're some sort of messiah. So I'll ask again: why did you tell Wash to keep him alive?"

Illinois stared down at the sim trooper, his visor glaring impassively. He could see that Church was furious that Maine was still alive. He couldn't do anything about it at the moment, so he was taking his anger out on the only other occupant of the balcony. To a degree, he could empathize with him. Seeing someone who had hurt one of the few things, one of the few people, he cared about, someone who had very nearly killed his love more than once must've struck a nerve. It struck a nerve with all of the Reds and Blues. He was certain it would've struck a nerve with him if Maine had tried killing his lover in the past too.

After a few moments, Illinois finally relented, seeing that Church wasn't going to simply let this go. And he was probably going to be stubborn about it too. That was a trait both he and Tex shared, unfortunately. It's probably why they got into heated arguments so damn often too.

"There is a probability that he may become useful in the future," he answered. "And unlike you and the others, I am not blind by his past actions, however horrendous they may be."

"He's dangerous," Church shot at him.

"All Freelancers are dangerous," Illinois stated matter-of-factly. "Carolina's dangerous. Wash is dangerous. I'm dangerous. And I'm pretty sure I don't need to tell you how dangerous Tex is."

"But he's killed other Freelancers. He's a step above dangerous."

Illinois snorted. "Freelancers aren't invincible. Nobody is invincible. Hell, even Spartans aren't invincible. Everything falls eventually."

"We almost died because of him!" he shouted, loud enough as to get the attention of everyone outside of the halls.

Illinois, for his part, remained unperturbed, continuing to stare down the former A.I. impassively. Church continued to fume, trying to get this unmovable Freelancer to see just what made Wash's decision such a bad idea. There was too much at risk with keeping him alive, and so close to everyone else. His friends, the people he could almost consider family, were at risk because of the Meta. Caboose was at risk; Tucker was at risk; Tex was at risk. He couldn't let such a massive danger to his family get near them again.

The room was silent as Church's rage simmered. Illinois said nothing for a while, letting his anger die down before speaking.

Finally, after a minute or two, the Freelancer questioned, "Are you done yet?"

Church pushed air out of his nose. "Done with what?" he gritted through his teeth.

"Throwing your little temper tantrum," Illinois droned.

"No!" Church began shouting again. "No, I quite literally am not! I cannot believe you don't understand how idiotic of an idea it is for us to keep Meta alive! You must be dense to not see that he could kill us all if we don't kill him first!"

Illinois stood stoic before the furious Blue, unfazed by his shouting and spatting. "Describe to me your last encounter with him, before yesterday," he requested.

Church stopped abruptly, his rant dying in his throat. "What?" he asked.

"You heard me," the Freelancer said. "Describe your last encounter with Agent Maine."

He took in a sharp breath before letting it out slowly, slowing his heart rate down. Good, Illinois thought. Calming him down and getting him to explain himself should clear his mind, allow him to think with a better conscious. He had no doubt the memory would bring some feelings back to the surface again, maybe even reinforce Church's opinion, but it would halt his uncontrollable temper.

Momentarily.

Once he'd brought his heartbeat down to optimal, near-resting rate, he looked up to Illinois.

"It was four years ago," he began, "near the crashed Mother of Invention when we last ran into him…"


Church groaned in pain as he brought himself up to a kneeling position. His left leg felt heavy, the bullet wound still fresh, leaking oil and a variety of other liquids he couldn't identify. It wasn't broken, otherwise he was sure he'd feel in a lot more pain than what he was currently at.

Actually, screw that. It still hurt, which was something he'd rather not feel at a time like this.

He heard gunfire and explosions sound from across the snowy field and looked up, seeing Tex taking on the Meta and Washington, both in melee and at range. She'd taken at least three weapons out of hiding at this point: a detached turret first and then an Assault Rifle and Battle Rifle at the same time.

"Church!" he heard someone call, only to see the familiar purple silhouette of Doc come into view, his medical scanner still in hand. "Are you okay?"

Okay? Did he look okay? He had a fucking bullet wound seeping liquid out of his thigh that shouldn't have been there. Not to mention he was on his knees as opposed to standing.

"She fucking shot me!" he grit through clenched teeth. "What is wrong with her?"

"She did?" the pacifist asked in surprise, glancing down at his leg. He wasn't sure how the medic had missed such an obvious detail, but right now he didn't care. "That's what brought us to you."

"I know," Church confirmed. "She meant to do that."

"Well, she's paying for it now," Doc said grimly, glancing over to the fight happening across the field.

Church followed his gaze, spotting the three Freelancers. Meta was on top of Tex, struggling to keep a Battle Rifle in one of her hands away. Wash had dived off to the side to grab what had once been the storage unit Epsilon had been stuck in before he'd gotten his robot eye for a body.

Silently, his heart was torn. On the one hand, the sting of betrayal still felt strong. He hated that she shot him of all people, that she had used him as a pawn in her scheme. And he'd fallen into place right from the start. Who knew how long she'd been planning to do this? Probably since she'd first gotten her robot body, at the very least.

On the other hand, however, this was still Allison. When she wanted to know or do something, she was willing to go through heaven and hell to get them. She was incredibly devoted to her mission, whatever that was. She had grit, determination, singular focus. And he loved that about her.

He still loved her, even with all the wrong things she did to him.

Tex was finally able to shove Meta off her with her legs, keeping a hold of the Battle Rifle. She rolled to her feet and put the gun on her back before reaching to her hip and pulling out a detonator. Wash was able to take his spot next to the EVA Freelancer just in time for her to thumb the activation button. Charges activated along the cliffside behind them and, before they knew it, ice and rock began raining down upon them.

The cascade of debris behind them forced the Freelancers forward, where they engaged Tex once again in hand-to-hand combat. Every once in a while, they were forced apart by a rock or chunk of ice, giving Tex room to breathe and, more importantly, separate them. This allowed her to engage them one at a time, where she had the advantage.

Somewhere in the scuffle, Wash had somehow managed to grab the Battle Rifle off of her back and was now taking potshots at her. Still, he needed to focus on outrunning the rockslide just as much as shooting her, making him miss his target.

She was able to keep ahead of them, eventually able to slide away in the snow. A jagged boulder landed just behind her, between the opposing Freelancers. She twisted and, with a mighty punch, broke the top off, sending it flying into Washington, the closer of her opponents. It crashed against him, knocking him on his back. It was a good thing his armor had incredible impact compensation. Otherwise his ribs would've fractured into a thousand pieces.

Instead of worrying about his partner, Meta took initiative and jumped on the same boulder before propelling himself through the air towards her. Tex charged at him, using another rock as a ramp to launch herself up to him. She came up from under him, grabbing him by the bottom of his helmet and arm before landing hard on the ground, slamming him onto her back. It was amazing that his spine didn't break from such a maneuver.

She tossed him into the air and kicked him, sending him flying.

Wash continued to shoot at her with his rifle, forcing Tex into cover. She pulled out another detonator and paused for a split second, considering her options. She still wanted to find the Director and Washington still knew things she didn't. He'd interfaced with Epsilon directly and, because of this, he knew many things about the Director's mind, things that could help her. He was also a valuable asset and potential partner.

However, there was also the Meta. She knew he would be nothing but trouble if he lived. He had already hunted Tex before, and he'd already had other A.I. to power his equipment before. Now that he most likely had none, he'd be on her with a vengeance.

She couldn't let him continue obstructing her.

The black Freelancer took her chances and activated the next set of explosives. A large tear appeared in the ground and spread across a wide area. The ice began sliding away from the rest of the glacial cliffside and the area the Freelancers were standing on began falling into the ocean. Tex wasted no time in returning to solid ground.

However, in her haste, Washington was able to land a hit on her, shooting her in the shoulder. She cried out in pain as she just finished clearing the falling glacier, her normally graceful movements cut short by the bullet going through her shoulder blade. She tumbled over and fell to the ground. Tex groaned as she slowly lifted herself up.

Unfortunately for her, Meta and Wash were able to escape plummeting to a watery grave, with the white-and-brown Freelancer able to jump almost to the top of the newly-formed cliff, his Brute Shot assisting him. Washington made it only with the assistance of Doc, who'd thrown a Warthog towing cable down to him. It wasn't a good throw by any stretch of the imagination, but it had still helped the grey-and-gold Freelancer.

Before Tex truly had a chance to recover, the Meta was practically on top of her again, this time aiming to use all of the equipment he had at his disposal: his Brute Shot and the containment unit they'd brought with them. Tex was able to get a few hits in, even ducking under his overhead swing and stabbing him with her Bowie knife in the back of his shoulder. The knife failed to go far, however, and promptly got stuck.

Meta fired his Brute Shot at the ground, sending them both tumbling. He was able to easily push through the pain and rose to his feet quickly. Tex, on the other hand, was struggling to even stand at this point.

"Meta, wait!" Wash shouted, trying to get his partner's attention. However, the brutish Freelancer either didn't hear him or was willfully ignoring him, instead continuing to bear down upon the female Freelancer.

Church stood slack-jawed as he saw Meta beat past everything Tex threw at him, shrugging off the damage like it was nothing. Meanwhile, Tex was taking hits herself, her movements getting noticeably more sluggish with every successful strike or bullet. She was being brought down lower and lower as the fight continued to drag on.

When he saw the male Freelancers attempt to make use of the containment unit, he knew what their plan was. They were going to try to force them, him and Tex, back into the thing, using the spike to suck them out of their robot bodies and keep them trapped. From there, he didn't know. He did know one thing though: he didn't want to find out why they wanted to submit the both of them to such a fate.

"We don't need to hurt her," Wash continued. "We only need –"

Meta continued to ignore him, instead picking Tex up from the ground by the throat with one hand. With his other, he reached for the containment unit on his back, the thick metal spike gleaming against the arctic sunlight.

Tex could do nothing but struggle against the large Freelancer's indominable grip, her once insurmountable strength abandoning her. She could see what the thing that had once been Maine was about to do. He would shove her into that machine, that cage, and use her processing power to run the equipment in his armor. She would become nothing more than a tool, just as she always was. Worse yet, when he was done with her, he would do the same to Epsilon, to Church.

And she would fail to do what she set out to do: find out why she was the way she was, why she was here.

She would fail once again.

Meta grasped the metal device in his hand and, without preamble, struck forward with it, aiming to pierce her visor, to savagely rip her consciousness from her body…

A large crack was heard above the otherwise peaceful and still tundra air. Before anyone had time to blink, the containment unit shattered, the spike violently getting shorn from the body of the contraption. The pieces jerked out of his hand, scattering across the snow to his side. The spike had been mere inches away from Tex's visor when it shattered, but now it had flown several feet away, the machine now in over a dozen pieces.

It took her a second to see that there was a vapor trail where the once-whole containment unit had been, the residual effect of a Sniper Rifle round. All three of the Freelancers whipped their heads to see Church still on his knees, holding the large weapon in his hands. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "I got him!"

Snarling, Meta turned to the woman he was still clutching in his hand and smashed his head into hers. She went limp, her arms falling away from the hand that was still gripping her throat. He threw her now unconscious body towards the ruined mass that had once been the Mother of Invention, landing in the snow. He turned to face the one that had destroyed his means of capturing Tex. Church raised his rifle at the large Freelancer once more.

"Meta, stop!" Wash cried out, now raising his rifle at the back of his head. The burly Freelancer continued on.

Agent Washington fired a burst from the Battle Rifle, barely missing the back of his former partner's head. Meta turned abruptly and drew his Brute Shot, immediately returning fire on his former ally. Two grenades hit the ground beneath his feet, causing him to stumble. That gave the white Freelancer the opportunity to charge him.

He rapidly closed the distance and they crashed together, Meta pinning him down with his weight. He swung his bladed weapon down upon the smaller man, planning to impale him through the chest. However, Wash was able to knock against the flat of the blade, redirecting it into the ground next to his head instead. It landed with a hard crunch, burrowing a good six inches under snow and dirt.

Wash double-kicked him off, sending him skidding through the snow. Rising to his feet, he briefly searched for his Battle Rifle, only to see it a handful of feet away from Meta. He drew his Magnum instead.

Church ignored the infighting the Freelancers were having, instead rushing over to the unconscious form of Tex. Well, maybe quickly limping might be a better term for it considering the condition of his leg. Doc followed behind, glancing warily at the fight going off to the side.

When they finally reached her, they could see that she had landed on her face, her body deathly still. Epsilon fell to his knees, reaching down to turn her over. She groaned as she felt his touch, but otherwise remained unmoving. With a tug, he pulled her over so that she was facing the sky.

"Tex?" Church called out. She stayed still, machine fluid still leaking out of her shoulder. He turned to the medic beside him. "Doc, how bad is she?"

"Not sure," he said.

"Well, run a diagnosis," the grey-blue soldier said irritably. He didn't have time for this crap. If Tex was severely injured or about to die, she needed medical treatment as soon as feasibly possible.

Thankfully, Doc got the memo and ran his medical scanner over her body. He poked around the hole in her shoulder with a finger. Several seconds passed before a confirmation chime sounded in his helmet. "Okay then, that's not unusual at all," he said more to himself than anyone else.

"What is it?" Church asked.

"Well," the pacifist explained, "the metal underneath has suffered from major neural degradation, plus the support structure is now bent at a weird angle, not to mention there's ripping and tearing across the shoulder and upper chest."

"And this means what?"

"There's a lot of internal damage," Doc clarified. "Most UNSC rounds have some level of armor penetration. It's meant to rent and pierce armor, but goes through organic tissue without mauling someone's internals too badly. However…"

"She's not made of organic tissue," Church finished.

Doc nodded. "Her metal body must've taken some serious damage. And metal doesn't clot or heal." He referred to the way the armor was still weeping whatever internal fluid was inside their bodies. True to his word, oil and a mixture of other substances continued to leak onto the ground.

With a wound like that, and with the way Tex had been acting once she'd gotten hit, she'd be in no condition to fight again. It was very likely her right arm was short-circuiting and would become largely inoperable if it didn't get repaired soon. And without her, there would be little stopping the Meta from getting them again. He wanted to believe Washington could handle the large Freelancer, but there was doubt. Meta was incredibly durable and incredibly resistant to pain. He could win in a prolong engagement against most Freelancers, and he remembered that Wash hadn't exactly been a top-notch Freelancer even on his best days.

Church shook his head, trying to clear his mind of doubt. Right now he needed to focus on getting Tex out of here, try to get her body repaired. He needed to get her somewhere safe, to help her.

You can't even help yourself, her voice rang out in his head. That's why you made me, Church. You made me to take on all the things you can't handle. Just like you always have.

He snorted at the thought. For a while, when he was lying on the ground bleeding out, waiting for the arrival of Wash, Meta, and Doc, he actually believed her. He recalled all the times he failed to do something good, to hit a target, to stop someone from doing something or something bad from happening. He remembered failing to stop Tex from leaving Blood Gulch, to stop O'Malley and Wyoming. He remembered dying to Caboose and failing to save Tex from Donut's plasma grenade throw. He remembered not being able to help.

But now things were different somehow. For the first time in recent memory, he actually stopped something bad from happening. He stopped Meta from capturing her. Sure, he wish he'd hit the Freelancer instead, but it was better than nothing. Overall, he considered that a win.

"Doc," he said lowly, "help me get her up."

"What?" DuFresne asked in confusion. "Why?"

"That ship behind us," Church gestured, "it's where Tex and I originally came from, where Tex got her first robot body. I'm betting there's still stuff in there that we can use to patch this wound up."

He reached down to grab her when her left hand shot up, gripping Church tightly around the throat. He lurched back in surprise, or at least tried to, but the arm prevented him from going anywhere. Unlike normal people, he didn't need air to breathe, being an A.I. inside a robot body and all of that. However, her grip was still strong and it still hurt to be squeezed as hard as she was.

"Owowowowow!" he exclaimed, clawing at the hand as it continued to press together in a crushing grip. "Tex! Tex, stop! It's me!"

Her head jerked up and she let go as suddenly as she grabbed. "Church?" she breathed.

"Yeah, it's me, bitch," he answered, rubbing his throat with a hand.

"Asshole," she muttered. Tex moved to push herself up. She hissed as she felt pressure in her right shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy," Church said, keeping a hand against her back to stabilize her. "You're still wounded, Tex."

"I'm fine," she replied, shrugging him off and continuing to attempt to rise. He could see that she was struggling, though she did her best to hide it.

"No, you're not," he told her. "You're bleeding and in no condition to keep fighting."

"Oh, so now you think you can tell me what to do now?" she questioned, her tone getting more aggressive by the second. He could tell this was just her being the stubborn bitch he knew she was, but he stood his ground.

"Considering I pretty much just saved your life just a little while ago, yeah I think I can," he replied dryly. Still, she ignored him and attempted to stand once more. Seeing that she wasn't going to stop, he helped push her up. "We need to get you to the ship."

"Why would we go there?" she questioned, straightening herself and looking around for a weapon. None were in sight.

"It's the only place nearby that probably has a repair kit for that wound," he told her, pointing out the golf-ball-sized hole in her shoulder. She flexed her arms in response. The left one felt perfectly normal, motor function operating at optimal speed. The right one, however, felt sluggish and heavy. She tried lifting her forearm to shoulder height, but winced as pain spiked at the action. Tex did her best to hide it, but neither Church nor Doc were fooled; she was still really hurt.

She shrugged off his hand, beginning to walk towards the Meta and Wash. Church rushed up to her, getting between Tex and her intended destination. "Get out of my way," she grit between her teeth.

He knew she could easily shove her way past him, that he was little more than a nuisance in the grand scheme of things. But the shot he took, the one that counted when he needed it most, it gave him a confidence he'd never felt before whenever he was around her. If he was lucky enough to save her life once, perhaps he could do so again. "No, Tex, not this time," he told her, holding a hand up to her chest.

"You can't stop me, Church," she fired back, swatting his hand out of the way. Still, he remained unmoving.

"The hell I can't," the male A.I. said. "You just got shot and I can see that you're still hurt. Meta is going to kill you if you go back to fight him."

"No, I'm going to kill him first," she said with conviction.

Church groaned in frustration. "If you couldn't kill him when you fully armed and prepared, what makes you think you can take him now, when have none of those advantages?"

"Please," he begged, his voice getting quiet. "Let me help you, just for once in your life."

She stopped moving, noticing how quiet he'd gotten, a far cry from his usual tirade of curses and insults. Her eyes locked with his and, for a time, neither moved. She did her best to read him. Although she couldn't actually see his eyes, she could see it from his body language. His word was genuine; he actually wanted to help her, to feel useful, to prove that he was more than just a burden to her whenever they were together, that he could pull his weight. He wanted to show her that he really could help, not for his sake, but for hers. He'd seen her failures, failures that he'd caused in one way or another. It pained him every time he thought about them. Now that he'd actually helped her once, he wanted to continue to prove that he was helpful.

Though she would never admit it aloud, Tex did actually feel a little guilty for betraying his trust and using him as bait. She could see that he wanted to help her, following her around without question like a lost puppy. She could see he was attached to her, that he was willing to go through heaven and hell for her, whether he realized it or not. She knew it had been part of his programming, as much a part of him as the original Allison had been to the Director. She could not fault him for that.

She could, however, still fault him for not actually being helpful. Not once in their entire time together had he actually been able to do what she desired beyond give access to certain computers and terminals. Her shooting him to draw the Meta and Washington had been her idea, not his. He'd been dead weight.

Until very recently.

She was about to answer him when a large crash sounded off in the distance. A large plume of snow had blossomed near the base of one of the nearby canyon walls the fight was taking place in. Standing out in the open was the Meta with his Brute Shot in hand, Washington conspicuously absent. Unbeknownst to them, the larger Freelancer had successfully grappled and tossed his opponent into said wall with enough force to hopefully kill him. Now he had his attention on the remaining three occupants.

Tex saw that he was aiming his alien grenade launcher at them and, without thinking, stepped past Church, putting her arm out to shield him. A flurry of explosives landed in their midst, detonating violently and causing the ground to scatter. Tex caught the brunt of the damage, flying several meters before landing against a rocky outcrop. Church, despite being shielded by her body, went flying as well, skipping against the ground and subsequently landing against a tree next to her. Doc, meanwhile, went flying in the opposite direction, crashing into a deep snowbank instead.

"Oh, not again!" he cried as he got stuck in the ice and snow.

Church groaned as he tried standing up, pushing himself off of the tree only to topple right onto the ground. Tex tried pushing herself up to her feet, but she felt her energy drain from her body once more. She slumped against the rocks instead.

The male A.I. heard the sound of approaching footsteps and lifted his head to look. Standing over him, the Meta glared down menacingly at him, his round helmet silhouetted against the sun. Church tried to stand and fight, but the Freelancer smashed him down to the ground with a fist. Church's body went slack. With only mild irritation, Meta reached down and grabbed Church by the collar before dragging him against the snow.

Church's head lopped to the side as he felt the muscular Freelancer stop, able to get a view of what his captor was doing. He could see Tex weakly stand up, trying to throw a punch out at the psychopathic Freelancer, but it was easily blocked. Her opponent's fist slammed down on her head and she went down again. Like Church, her body went slack.

Before he had a chance to even so much as cry out to her, he felt his consciousness leave him and he blacked out.


Church felt himself come to slowly, opening his eyes and lifting his head. They both felt heavy, much heavier than he thought possible. How long had he been knocked out? The last thing he remembered was getting clobbered by Meta, his punches feeling like unstoppable forces. Now he was here. But where was here?

His senses came back to him slowly. He heard the distant thrum of a generator nearby, of electric currents surging through cabling and wires. Through the sensors in his gauntlets, he could tell he was on cold, hard steel. He was leaning against a wall, legs splayed out in front of him.

He heard the sound of something rustling in front of him and opened his eyes. He regretted it instantly, the overhead light blinding him for a few seconds. Church flinched at just how bright it was.

Eventually he was able to get a look at where he was. The room he was in wasn't particularly big, just a few meters to either side. He could see the towering form of the Meta in front of him, his back facing him. Church heard more rustling, this time clearly emanating from where the white Freelancer was.

He looked around the room, noticing smooth metal walls and white lights illuminating the area. To Church's left was an open door, with melted water and bits of ice particles gently floating through it. Beyond it was a hallway made of the same metal as the room. They must be inside the Mother of Invention, though only barely.

To his right, across the room, was the slump form of Tex. Her head was drooped down, her arms and legs slack in unconsciousness. He had no idea what her condition was, but he needed to find out.

"Tex?" he called out to her. No response. If Meta did hear him, he was choosing not to react. It was then that he noticed cabling snaking out from her back, trailing against the floor before coming up to the platform. He looked down to see the same thing on him. He reached down to try and tug at the wire bundles. Church didn't know if it was because he was weak or the wires were just stuck, but they refused to budge.

The Meta turned around and looked down at Epsilon, moving his body out of the way of whatever it was he was working on. The device in question was on top of a pedestal, all of the cords feeding into the base and attaching to it from the bottom. It was small, no larger than a football, made of metal with red outlines. Energy pulsated from it, giving it a menacing aura around it. Church could tell that, even without really understanding what it was, that it was supposed to replace the capture device he had destroyed.

The shadow of the male Freelancer loomed over him, looking down. Church remained silent, too afraid to make any sudden movements. The Meta knelt down, bring himself almost to eye level with the A.I.. Church flinched reflexively, terrified beyond belief. Just what was this man, this thing, planning to use him and Tex for once he sucked them up into his suit? What was the plan once he had the power he needed to run his equipment?

Meta cocked his head to the side before reaching down to the cabling attached to his torso, twisting it tightly before giving it a sharp tug. Church jolted forward, but the machine part remained firmly attached. Satisfied, the large Freelancer stood up, going back to the podium to tinker with the device.

A loud crash suddenly shook the ground. Ice particles fell from the ceiling and lightly clattered against the floor. Meta snapped his head around to the door. Bringing his hand to the Brute Shot, which had been firmly attached to his back, he strode through the doorway and disappeared outside.

Several seconds of silence passed, only the faint sound of wind disturbing the air. Deciding to take his chances, Church called out again. "Tex," he said. Once again she failed to respond. Sensing he was getting nowhere with trying to wake her up, he instead resorted to trying to unscrew the cables plugged into his suit.

A cacophony of gunfire erupted outside, the rattle of Battle Rifles sounding in the distance. It was soon met by the thwomphing noises of discharged Brute Shot rounds. Church perked his head up at the sound of it. Good, somebody has come to rescue us, he thought. That or it was just another hapless patrol of Freelancer personnel getting pounced on by the Meta. He really hoped it wasn't the latter.

"Church?" he heard someone groan his name. The A.I. snapped his head up as he recognized the voice instantly. Tex groggily lifted her head as she returned to consciousness, her arms still hanging limply by her side.

"Tex," he breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," she replied. "I feel like I just got run over by a tank, though."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you try taking on the Meta in a wounded state," Church commented dryly.

Tex looked down at the cables attached to her armor, seeing them snake along the ground to the altar in front of them. She immediately reached to begin tugging them out, wincing as her right arm flared up in pain once again. Just like him, she found that they were screwed in tight, not easily dislodged.

The gunfire continued outside, ramping up in intensity as the seconds ticked by. He couldn't see what exactly was going on, but he had a sneaking suspicion that things weren't going well for the soldiers facing the Meta. It was just one guy. If he wasn't dead already, then he must be putting whoever had arrived one hell of a fight. For all he knew, they were getting slaughtered.

Tex hissed between her teeth as she felt her arm seize up again, dropping her hand away from the electronic hardware. "I can't get a good grip on these damn wires," she said in frustration more to herself than anything else. Several more seconds of attempted screwing passed, continuing grunts of pain emanating from her every once in a while.

Finally, after what had felt like a minute or so, she finally relented, dropping her arms away from her sides. Her head went down in defeat. Church, in the meantime, hadn't even bothered trying to get them off. Instead he was listening in on the battle going on outside of the ship, trying to discern what was happening and who, if anyone, was winning.

"Church?" Tex asked quietly.

He looked over at the female Freelancer, noticing her sudden change in tone. "Yeah, Tex?" he answered, curious more than anything about what she was going to say.

"If we don't make it out of here…" she started.

"Don't say that," he told her. "We're going to be fine. Help is going to come. We're going to get free. We're-"

"Goddamn it, Church! Would you just let me finish speaking for once?" she shouted, interrupting his interruption. He noticed her tone become extremely irritable and hostile, shooting a glare his way.

He closed his mouth, nodding once.

She drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. "If we don't make it out of here, I just want to you to know something," she told him, her voice getting quiet again. This time he remained silent, holding his attention to her. She didn't continue, however, the notable sign that she was struggling to convey her feelings. He knew she preferred speaking with actions instead of words. Actions were easy to her; she was a physical person, one who moved and flowed to show what she meant instead of speak it. It was natural to her. He often assumed that's why many of their conversations were either condescending, sassy, or hostile, that she didn't honey up words or try to make intricate conversation. She was straightforward and direct.

He loved that about her, just as much as he loved almost everything else, even if it was to the detriment of their relationship at times. She told things how they were and she often showed her affections rather than tell them, however few times they happened.

"What is it?" he asked, spurring her onward.

"… I'm sorry," she finally answered. Her voice was low, almost apologetic.

Church blinked, thinking his ears had malfunctioned. "… what?" he asked dumbly.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Tex said again, this time louder, but with the same melancholic tone as before. "I'm sorry I got us both into this mess, that I shot you, and that I said you couldn't help anyone. I'm sorry for everything."

"Hey," Church spoke, trying to reach out a hand to her comfortingly. She was too far away from him, but the sentiment was still there. "This isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is," she assured him. "I did all of this, Church. I'm the reason we're stuck to these wires, why the Meta has us tied up, getting ready to use us like batteries, why there are people out there dying fighting him. I fucked it all up, for both of us." She kept her head low. He didn't know her as being one to cry, but he could see that she was, at the very least, regretful. She had pushed too hard, tried doing things without help, because she believed no one could help her.

He knew all of these things. Of course he knew. How could he not? He'd been there for all of it, for all of those moments Tex tried to go out on her own, following along without thought. He should've been angry at her, angrier than he normally was with her antics. He should've been yelling in her face, at a time when he knew she was wrong.

And yet, he didn't. He wasn't angry at her this time. This time he understood. He understood why she'd chosen to go to the Mother of Invention, why she went digging for files about herself, why she shot him. She wanted to know why she was here. She wanted to know her purpose for being alive. She wanted to know who she was.

"Tex," he said softly, getting her attention. She raised her head, looking at him expectantly. "Even through all of this, through all of the stupidity and bullshit we've experienced, I'm not mad at you. I was never mad at you, not really. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to help you find out why you are the way you are. I hate seeing you struggle and fail at every turn. You don't understand how much I want you to succeed, that maybe we can push through the bullshit this life gives us and that things will be okay for us one day." He looked into her visor, searching for her eyes. "I still love you, Tex."

The black Freelancer said nothing in return, instead wallowing in silence. He was aware that getting her to say sorry was already a miracle unto itself, so getting her to return her feelings to him felt like a complete shot in the dark at this point. She wasn't going to say 'I love you' today, but he'd be with her when she would finally get the courage to say it.

The sound of footsteps thumped against metal plate, echoing in the hallway beyond. Both AI snapped their heads up, craning their heads at the door.

Without warning, the silhouette of Tucker came through the door, boots clattering against the ground and sword raised defensively. Church jumped at the suddenness of his arrival. "Tucker?" he asked, equal parts relieved and confused.

"Church," the aqua swordsman acknowledged back.

A head peeked over his shoulder, golden visor looking curiously into the room. He recognized it immediately as that belonging to Caboose. "Church!" the lumbering idiot exclaimed.

Both Blues filed into the room, Tucker moving to kneel by his prone form. "Dude, what happened to you?"

"Meta," Church replied, "he beat the shit out of me and Tex then dragged us over here and tied us up."

"Yeah, I can see that," his friend commented. He looked down at the screwed-in wires, reaching down to unfasten them. "Bet you wished you'd have stayed back with us instead of following your girlfriend around now, right?"

Church shrugged. "I'm not so sure of that now."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, if it wasn't for me, the both of us would be stuck in a storage unit like the one you see up there." He gestured to the device on the pedestal.

"What, you managed to talk their first gizmo to the point where it broke apart?"

"Not quite," Church said. "I shot it instead."

Tucker's head whipped in surprise. "You what?"

"Yeah," he beamed. "I mean, I was aiming for the Meta when he was holding it, but I still managed to hit something."

"Bullshit," Tucker said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have believed myself either if I said it, but it's true."

"Still being an egotistical jackass on top of being whipped and beaten," the aqua soldier muttered. "Perfect." He grasped the wire and tried twisting. However, like Church and Tex, he was having no luck. Gunfire continued to erupt outside.

"Hey, who's out there?" the male AI questioned. "Some Freelancers?"

"Nah, just the Reds," he clarified.

Church balked at the news. "How are they still alive?" he asked.

Tucker shrugged. "Beats me, but I'm not complaining." Church realized he was right. If it wasn't for the Reds, Meta would've come back by now and probably killed all of them.

A few seconds of trying, and failing, to get the thick cable off passed before the swordsman groaned in frustration. "This is taking too long," he said, standing up. He brought his sword up, poised to strike. "Stand still, Church," he ordered.

Church looked up to him in alarm. "Whoa, Tucker, are you sure about this? I don't want to get stabbed or anything. I already have enough holes in my body as it is."

"Psssh," Tucker handwaved. "I'm a natural at this. Just don't move or you might actually get some new holes in you. Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

Before Church could protest further, the sword slashed down, quick as lightning. He yelped in surprise, closing his eyes at the sudden flash of light. It was over in an instant. The AI opened them and looked down, seeing the part severed at the stump, glowing an angry orange. He looked over himself, seeing that there was nothing else missing from him. He had to make sure. Didn't want to have to replace this body just yet.

"Sweet," Lavernius said. "Now on to Tex."

"Oh, no need for that, Tucker," Caboose said dismissively. Before he could ask, the Blue reached down and grasped tightly at the wire, twisting it harshly. It came away seamlessly.

"Wish you'd said something about that before," muttered Church, looking down at the wire stump on his side.

Tex pushed herself up, her left arm doing most of the work while her right mostly supported. She wobbled as she stood to full height. Caboose moved to support her, but she waved him off, standing a bit straighter. Her left shoulder had stopped leaking fluid, but the wound was still slick.

"We should get going," Tucker told them. "The Reds probably still need our help." The others nodded before exiting the room, with Church limping behind and Tex grasping her shoulder with one hand.

Caboose quickly noticed the male AI's sluggish walk and returned to his side, pulling one of Church's arms over his shoulder. Church opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Though he was reluctant to admit it, he appreciated the help. Limping around was already annoying as it was.

The group moved outside to see the carnage unfolding upon the snowy landscape. Charred snow and rock laid about from a plethora of grenade explosions, generated from both the Reds and Meta himself. The cracks of Battle Rifles from Grif and Simmons sounded as they tried, and failed, to hit the EVA Freelancer. Sarge fired off his shotgun, but his target was too far away for his shots to be effective. Among them was Washington, adding his more accurate fire to the mix. Still, Meta would always seem to move just fast enough to dodge the bullets. That or emit the bubble shield in his armor. It seemed he'd found a way to use at least some of his equipment after all.

Tucker began moving towards the carnage, his Energy Sword out. "Caboose, stay with Church and Tex," he told the other Blue.

"Okay," Caboose replied.

"And try not to kill either of them by accident," he added a second later.

"Okay," the Blue idiot repeated.

Church watched as Tucker rush to the fight, sword out. So far the Meta hadn't seen his approach yet, but with how spread out the fight was getting he wasn't sure it would last. The large Freelancer had just closed in on Grif and Simmons, dodging both of Simmons's rockets and bisecting it with his Brute Shot. Grif tried jumping on his back before he could kill the maroon soldier.

By the time the orange simulation trooper had been successfully thrown off, Tucker had crossed the distance. He swiped out at the Freelancer, but Meta must've seen him out of the corner of his eye, so he sidestepped the attack. The Energy Sword passed harmlessly through the air. In response, the Freelancer punched him in the face. Tucker swore as he was pushed away, falling to the ground.

Before Meta could get a killing swing on the Blue, Washington came in from the side, shoulder-bashing him. As the white Freelancer recovered, his new opponent attacked with what had once been Tex's knife. He went for several slashes and a stab, trying to get past Meta's guard. Unfortunately, the bulk of the Brute Shot made it a good makeshift shield against the blade.

Wash went for an overhead stab, using two hands to try and push his way past the white Freelancer's protection. Meta caught the blade against the edge of the Brute Shot before bracing, leveraging his own immense strength. He quickly overpowered the grey-and-gold Freelancer, pushing him off and into the Reds.

"They're not going to be enough," Tex said in realization. She starting slowly walking towards the fight.

Church noticed her movement and reached out to her, shrugging his arm off of Caboose's shoulder. "Hey, Tex, wait!" He grabbed her hand, making her face him. "I have a better idea."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise said nothing. Church realized the silence for what it was: a chance to prove himself. He took it.

Meanwhile, Sarge came charging in from behind Meta, his Shotgun doing little more than barking with how far away he was. By the time he got to barrel-stuffing range, the tube ran dry. Sarge's finger squeezed the trigger of an empty weapon. Noticing that the Red leader had briefly run out of ammunition, the rogue Freelancer pivoted around to face him before going for an upper cut. It hit Sarge and he went tumbling to the ground.

A round flew by the male Freelancer's head and he turned to the source. Off in the distance was Church, Sniper Rifle raised at him. "We're not done yet, Meta!" he shouted across the field.

He heard the burly Freelancer growl in frustration. Must've wondered how he had escaped captivity. It mattered not to him. Church fired a second round, once again flying past Meta's head. He'd preferred to have hit his target, but it was still catching his attention.

Tucker looked up from his prone position, still recovering from the Meta's punch. "Church! What are you doing?" he exclaimed, panic seeping into his voice.

The male AI ignored his friend, instead continuing to fire at the steadily-approaching Freelancer. The shots failed to deter his advance. If anything, they only encouraged him. Meta continued to close the gap, not even bothering to zig-zag around his opponent's aim. It was so bad that he didn't need to.

Meta was able to close the distance in seconds, knocking the Sniper Rifle out of his hands. He grabbed Church by the throat, lifting him up into the air. There was anger in his movement, even hatred, a result of knowing that he had been responsible for destroying the one piece of gear he needed to get his powers back. Worse yet, he was still attempting to meddle in his affairs. He was not having it.

"Hey Meta," he groaned out as he felt metal gauntlets squeeze his throat painfully. "Before you kill me and all of that, I'd just like to say one last thing."

Beneath his helmet, Meta raised an eyebrow curiously. What last, cowering words could this AI possibly have to say now, upon his hour of death?

What he didn't notice, however, was the hook that had been magnetized to his belt. Not until it firmly latched onto his chest. Meta looked down at it curiously, then to the steel cable it was attached to. His eyes followed it, over Church's shoulder, as it snaked along the snowy ground. It ended up being attached to a Warthog, one that was now being pushed by Caboose and Tex to the cliff.

Meta's eyes widened in alarm at the revelation of what was about to happen. Meanwhile, Church smirked. "Oh, son of a bitch!" he let out in fake surprise.

The white Freelancer had no time to react as the body of the vehicle tipped over the edge and began its inevitable descent. The cable went taut and Meta lurched from his feet, suddenly being dragged across the snow to follow the Warthog down. His grip loosened from Church's neck, but he did not let go. He began to panic as scrambled with his hands and feet for a handhold.

Church's smirk dropped as he lurched alongside his captor, scrambling for something to grab on to as well. His panic continued to mount as he rapidly got closer to the cliffside, his feet refusing to find traction.

"Church!" he heard Tex cry out. He was near the edge of the cliff, about to fall off, when the female Freelancer dove out to him, grasping at his arm with her left hand. He got a hold of it, squeezing her gauntlet as tightly as he could. Caboose made a rush to aid her, stepping before them, but he underestimated just how much force there was behind the pair of flailing combatants. The bulk of Meta knocked him off his feet. Meta's hand let go and he heard the menacing Freelancer scream in terror as he plummeted over the cliffside.

The momentum of the slide had still dragged him over to the edge, his legs and lower chest dangling over the ledge. Tex hissed in pain as she tried using her wounded right arm to hold on the ground, digging into packed snow, but her grip wasn't strong. She felt him slipping out of her hand.

Panic was beginning to set in to Tex as well as Church as she fought hard to keep him from going completely over. Her right arm was shaking hard as it did the best it could, but she found that it was getting harder and harder to control.

"Tex?" he asked as she continued to struggle. He couldn't pull himself up, he wasn't strong enough. He wished he could help take some of his weight off of her now.

"Just hold on, Church," she told him, grunting with pain. "Don't you dare let go, you hear me? I won't fail you, not here, not now." She looked desperately over to Caboose, who still laid prone on the ground, apparently having fallen unconscious from the impact.

He wanted to believe her with every fiber of his being, but he could see the inevitability of her failure. It was her greatest flaw: her constant failure. He knew something bad was going to happen. Either he would fall to his death or they both would. At least one of them was going to die.

He was going to make sure she wouldn't pay for it with her life.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the desperation in her movements as she mustered as much strength as she could to prevent his fall. Though he couldn't see her eyes, he could almost tell how hard she was pushing herself, doing everything in her power to stave off his demise.

Church's shoulders sagged in resignation. Tex noticed immediately and snapped her head up to him. "Don't you dare," she growled, though it sounded more like a plea than a threat. She couldn't lose him, not now. They still had so much to do together, so many things to make up for.

He gave her a sad smile, his grip loosening. "It's okay, Allison," he whispered. "Goodbye."

With a sense of finality he'd never truly felt before, he let go of her hand. She screamed out his name, pain of both the physical and emotional kind ripping out of her throat, but couldn't reach any further to get him. Well, he thought, at least she still cares about me.

A flash of bright blue was suddenly on him, shooting out to him as began separating from the cliff. It grabbed at him and he jerked to a stop. He looked up to see the pristine form of Tucker holding on to him, both hands gripping the one Tex had been holding. Behind him, holding him by the waist, was the now-conscious Caboose.

"I got you, man," he said behind strained breath. They both looked back up to see the large Blue firmly holding him in place.

"And I got you, Tucker," Caboose parroted. Compared to his friends, he did not seem strained in the slightest.

Church smiled up at his comrades, his friends, thankful beyond belief that they were here for him. Maybe things would be okay after all.


Church went silent as he finished his tale. The room went silent save for the distant sounds of rotation air and electrical currents. "Does that explain enough for you?" he glared at the Spartan before him.

Illinois nodded his head. "I can see why you're upset, at the very least," he replied. He looked down at the imprisoned Freelancer, still waiting patiently in his cell. Maine hadn't moved, or even so much as fidgeted, the entire time the story had been told. He was still staring at the floor impassively. "However, what you explained also shows a major contrast between him before versus now."

The former AI groaned in frustration, throwing his hands up. "There is no major contrast between how he was before and how he is now! He's still a bloodthirsty psychopath!"

"He stopped being that when he encountered Carolina," Illinois pointed out, "and he hasn't been that ever since."

"It's a ruse," Church countered, not buying his sudden docile nature. "He's just waiting for us to lower our guard so he can kill us."

"Maybe," the Freelancer conceded. He then shrugged his shoulders. "Or maybe not. We'll never know if we kill him outright. Call it an act of mercy, leaving him alive and seeing where he goes with it. Besides, even if he were to attack us, he still has to deal with Wash, Tex, Carolina, and me."

A loud chime sounded across the ship before Church could make another remark.

"All Reds, Blues, and Freelancers report to the Bridge, time: now," came the voice of Sheila. "I repeat, all Reds, Blues, and Freelancers report to the Bridge, time: now."

The speaker died down and the room returned to its natural state. Illinois and Church looked at each other, wondering what this could be about. The Freelancer shrugged and, pushing himself off of the railing, made his way out the door.

Church stood by himself as the mechanical door slid closed, turning his attention back down to the brig's only occupant. Maine was staring at the floor, hands laced together, but otherwise in the same position he'd been in for the last several hours.

He groaned in frustration after staring down at the white Freelancer for a few seconds before turning to follow Illinois's path. At this point he wasn't sure who he should be more pissed at: Maine for almost killing him, Caboose, Tucker, and Tex, or Illinois for constantly finding ways to obstruct what should've been their nemesis's final judgement. There was so little logic behind it that it was making Caboose sound completely sane.

He briefly considered going down and finishing the job himself, but thought better of it. Wash wanted him alive as well and he was certain the grey-and-gold Freelancer had a few more marbles than Illinois at this point. Maybe he should gauge him as well, possibly even try to convince him that Meta was better off dead.

Sighing to himself, he followed Illinois's path out the door.


Location: UNSC All or Nothing, Praetor Low Orbit

Time: 0815 Hours

Date: July 05, 2557

The bridge of the All or Nothing was a bit livelier than usual, even compared to the past several days. Most of the team, with the exception of the Freelancers and Church, had been sound asleep, exhausted from the days prior. Grif, Tucker, and Caboose were exceptionally tired, their extensive injuries practically draining them of energy.

The Reds and Blues, alongside Junior and Doc, stood assembled before the central platform, segregated into their original teams. Most of them were still in their armor save for Grif and Tucker. Grif had been medically advised by Doc to put as little stuff on his chest as possible for the next six weeks, sticking with only light t-shirts and sleepwear. The orange soldier took that as the only cue he needed, now changed into shorts and a light shirt. Tucker, meanwhile, had stuck with jeans and a sleeveless shirt, his right arm fully enveloped in a cast.

Washington stood before them all, with Carolina, Tex, and Illinois standing off to the side. They still wore their armor, blotches, scrapes, and burns scattered across their bodies. Not too surprising considering they'd only just gotten back from the surface.

"So," Grif asked first, "is there a particular reason why you woke us up at the ass-crack of dawn?" There was irritation in his voice.

"Just a status update for all of you," Wash informed them. "I'm sure you'll all want to know what the current situation is regarding our search."

"That shouldn't be too hard to deduce considering the lack of celebratory food and drink right about now," Sarge said in response.

Wash nodded to the Red once before turning his attention to the others. "The Director wasn't there."

A collection of groans and curses emanated from the former simulation troopers. Some looked dismayed while others looked like they legitimately wanted to kill someone. A few remained silent, keeping their thoughts to themselves. David noted that Church was among the last group, although he could tell from body language that he was fuming.

"So… what?" Tucker asked next. "We just going to pack up and finally leave this barren rock?"

"Not quite yet," he said. "There's also a few things regarding our new guest." No one needed to be told who he was referring to.

"Ugh, what now?" Church finally spoke, more than a little irritated by the possible news they were about to be instilled upon regarding the Meta. "Haven't you given him more than enough leeway letting him onto the ship to begin with? What, we gonna give him a nice, soft bed, good food? Oh, how about we just offer him a massage right now and get this out of the way?"

"No," Washington spoke firmly, shutting down Church's tirade before he could go any further. "We will not. For the moment, he will be guarded twenty-four seven until we can get a proper schedule figured out with him."

Simmons raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute, Wash. It sounds like you're trying to say we're not just going to drop him off at the nearest UNSC base to be taken to prison."

The lead Freelancer nodded. "That's because we're not." The group began protesting his decision once again, just for him to silence them, raising his voice and tell them to quiet down. "I have already discussed with Chairman Hargrove what our next course of action is. We are to keep him and all other former Project Freelancer personnel under the same roof as well as consolidate anything else we come across from the Project. Considering our collective experience with the Director, he figured we would all be more useful together."

The Reds and Blues began murmuring to themselves at the news. No one was on board with the idea of keeping someone who had actively tried killing them several times in the past on the ship. He was aware there was going to be a lot of tension for the next several days because of it. But it wasn't his call at this point. Hargrove gave explicit directions as to what to do. They were only together again because of his goodwill.

"So what's next for us then, Wash?" Tex asked next, raising her voice above the crowd. The Reds and Blues quickly went silent as they listened in. "Where do we go next?"

Wash glanced in her direction before facing the main crowd. "We lost almost a third of the original two hundred Freelancer ground soldiers we came here with. Our next stop is a UNSC waystation orbiting Falaknuma where we will be resupplied and reinforced. From there, our next planet is Zeta-Phi II."

"Why there?" asked Donut asked.

"There is pretty hefty amount of Forerunner tech there, something the Director is not above looking into. And the fighting there has gotten particularly fierce as of late. The Chairman specifically suggested we go there next."

"Who can we expect for reinforcements?" questioned Illinois, who, at this point, had remained silent, impassively scanning the room with his eyes, arms crossed across his chest.

"Two Special Operations teams, one belonging to the UNSC and another coming from the Swords of Sanghelios." He turned his attention to Tucker. "The Elite commander mentioned you, apparently."

"Did you manage to catch a name?" the Blue asked, perking up at the idea that someone recognized him.

"Yeah," Wash said. "Special Operations Officer Shahlee 'Chava. That name ring a bell?"

Now Tucker seemed excited. "Oh hell yeah it does. We fought together a few times while I was on Sanghelios. Plus her sister is a Shipmistress in the Arbiter's fleet. She's a really capable warrior."

Carolina had noted that he had said 'she', as in a female Sangheili. Great, as if they needed even more aliens than what they already had. Junior was already weird enough and he was only an adolescent male. Now they were getting what sounded like a fully-grown female, and a soldier at that as well. Things were already tense enough between her and Tex. She hoped the presence of another take-charge woman wouldn't compound the situation further.

She still wondered why Tucker called their sole resident Elite 'Junior'. It's not like they were even related or anything like that. Such a thing was impossible.

Washington nodded at the information Tucker had provided. "Good." He swept his head across to the assembled former members of Project Freelancer, from lowly sim trooper to top-of-the-line Agent. "It'll take a few days before we reach Falaknuma, so, unless told otherwise, you're all dismissed until then. Make the most of this break. You're going to need it."


Location: UNSC All or Nothing

Time: 1115 Hours

Date: July 05, 2557

The ship had left the planet about an hour after their briefing, the crew mostly returning to their quarters or otherwise going about their ship trying to find whatever they could to entertain themselves. The Freelancers in particular had decided to become scarce, dispersing almost immediately. Wash had to finish writing up a report to their higher-ups, so stayed behind. Illinois, on the other hand, had been given a room in a more secluded part of the ship and thus had promptly shut himself in.

Carolina had returned to her room in the Freelancer/Blue Team section of the sleeping quarters while Tex peeled off from everyone else, instead going into Church's room.

The cyan Freelancer frowned at the thought of seeing Tex being happy with the other former AI. Yeah, she was absolutely aware that both she and Church were based off of the memories of her parents, and that's why it somehow made everything worse. When she'd first met Tex, the black Freelancer had stolen her position at the top of the leaderboard right out from under her. She was given special treatment, being attended to like the Director's favorite pet. She didn't piece together just why she had gotten special treatment until much later.

Now she wasn't used to seeing them just… interacting with each other. It was equal parts fascinating and infuriating to watch them. She'd never seen just what her parents were like with her out of the picture. It was like looking at a window through time. They were the type of people to squabble and bicker for hours on end, yet immediately come to each other's aid the second one of them felt legitimately threatened. It was kinda toxic, yet endearing at the same time. However, as of late, they had gone away from that degrading sort of behavior, instead trying (and sometimes failing) to be better. The jeering and mocking had died down, but some of the prodding stayed, mostly for a quick joke.

Carolina was also a bit shocked as to see what her mother had been according to her father. She was kind of a bitch, sassy, arrogant at times. Completely different from the way she acted when around her daughter. She remembered hearing at one point from one of the Blues about her cheating on him and stealing his money. She really hoped that part was just blown out of proportion. She didn't want to think about her mom cheating on her dad, didn't want to picture how ugly that was. Besides, if it really was that big, then why did Leonard Church still cherish her like she was the world to him? Why would she be so big of a part of her life that his own AI would have a fragment that was just like her?

And why wasn't Carolina also that big of a part of him?

There were times where she wanted to scream at them, to tell them to wake up, that she was here, waiting for them to notice her, notice their daughter. But then she remembered that Tex, this shadow, wasn't her mother, couldn't ever be. Allison was never a member of a supersoldier project, never a robot. She wasn't a redhead like her, with green eyes like her. Her mother had been blonde with eyes as blue as the sky. She had been tough, but never cruel, never cold or standoffish. She had been a woman of flesh and blood, with goals, aspirations, and loved ones. Allison died long ago, and she was never coming back.

Carolina heard a knock on the door, snapping her out of her thoughts. For a second she considered just sitting there, letting whoever was on the other side that she didn't want to be disturbed. She thought better of it and stood from her bed, walking over to the door. The door slid open just to see Tucker standing before her, still in civilian clothes, still with a cast around his arm. This was the first time she'd actually gotten a good look at him out of armor. She could see his darker skin, his short, dark brown hair and oak eyes. He was relatively well built, although the sleeveless shirt may have been accentuating that trait more than she initially thought.

"Hello, Tucker," she greeted evenly, trying not to let her eyes wander down to the cast on his arm.

"Hey, Carolina," the Blue returned, waving slightly with his left hand. He looked her up and down. "Is this a bad time?"

She had been in her armor the entire time she'd returned to the ship, only removing her weapons and helmet. All were still on the bed. She hadn't even noticed until now just how differently they were dressed. "Not at all," she replied. "What do you need?"

"Oh, nothing," Tucker said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just wondering if you were up to the idea of seeing my son, that's all. Thought it could help take your mind off of what's been going on lately."

That's right, she thought. She had made an offer to let him introduce his son to her. She still had no idea who he was. She wasn't aware that they even had a kid onboard the ship. Then again, she'd been so focused on the mission she hadn't taken the time to notice.

At first she planned on refusing the offer then and there. However, now that she thought about it, she really needed some sort of distraction. Seeing Illinois, then Maine, reenter her life just like that was a surreal experience, one she was not prepared for. Seeing Church and Tex interact ever since she'd gotten onto the ship and joined the crew was very much the same. She needed something that was less tumultuous, less life-shaking, to see.

"Okay," she finally answered him.

A surprised look crossed his face. "Really?" he asked genuinely.

"Yeah," Carolina answered, "really."

"Sweet," Tucker smiled, barely resisting the urge to fist-pump the air.

"Give me a second to clean myself up a bit, then I'll be out." Tucker nodded once as she closed the door. He didn't have to wait too long before she came back out, her face a bit wet, her helmet under one of her arms. All she really did was splash some water onto her face, getting some of the dirt and grime out of her hair and off of her armor. It wasn't a permanent fix, but she didn't want to make him wait.

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure you don't want to change into something more comfortable?"

Carolina shook her head. "Plenty comfortable already." Tucker shrugged his shoulders before turning around and walking away. She followed along behind.

The trip wasn't long. In fact, it had only lasted a few dozen meters. They'd made it to the end of the sleeping quarters for the Blue/Freelancer side.

Tucker stopped before the door and knocked once. It slide open to reveal an Elite, the only Elite on the ship, hunched over, staring down at them with eyes on the sides of its head. He wore a simple, large aqua tunic, one of the few pieces of clothing that he'd brought with him.

"Father?" he questioned, his voice giving off that faint warble found in all Sangheili voices. "What brings you here?"

"Just checking up on you, that's all." The swordsman stepped to the side, allowing Carolina more of a view. "Agent Carolina, I'd like you to meet my son, Lavernius Tucker Junior."

To say she was shocked was an understatement. Her mind raced as she tried to process what she had been presented. This thing was Tucker's son? An alien who bore no resemblance to the charming human male she'd gotten to know down on the surface of Praetor? She'd never met a Sangheili before, but she knew well enough that the two species weren't reproductively compatible. That was impossible.

"You're joking," she deadpanned, addressing Tucker and ignoring Junior for the moment.

Tucker, to his credit, took the comment in stride, answering, "Hell no, I'm not. He's my actual son. Gave birth to him myself."

If she was flabbergasted before, she was balking now. "You? Gave birth to him?" she pointed at him, then Junior, still in utter disbelief. "That's not possible."

"But it is," Tucker replied. "Doc was there himself, and the other Reds and Blues were outside when it happened too. Trust me, Church was in just as much disbelief as you right up until the point Junior came out. My dick didn't feel right for months after that happened."

She stood, completely dumbstruck, eyed flitting back and forth between the man and his alien son. "How did you get pregnant in the first place?" she questioned, her brain now just attempting to go to autopilot.

"Well, let's just say first contact was an… interesting experience… for all of us. None of us had encountered aliens before, so this was all new to us. Met an Elite we called Crunchbite, the only thing we could come up with considering none of us spoke Sangheili. Apparently he also couldn't speak English, so that didn't help." Tucker shrugged. "He got me pregnant just after I found the sword you've seen me use several times, reading something about a prophecy and that a human would bear a child of two worlds. Unfortunately, I was the unlucky candidate for said prophecy. He used an experimental embryonic injector on me and, thus, I became pregnant with him." He gestured to the Elite.

The trio stood in silence as Tucker finished his explanation. She was having such a hard time wrapping her head around this. It seemed like something out a bad science fiction movie. It was ridiculous, it had to be. Yet, here was Junior, in the flesh, defiance of the natural order made manifest. She never expected to come face-to-face with a species of alien that had been partially responsible for almost wiping out humanity, for killing her mother, yet here she was. Not only that, but this was an Elite unlike all other Elites she was aware of. Born of a human man, raised by humans first, before growing up among his own kind. It was just impossible to take it all in.

Junior looked down at her, then back to his father, before returning his attention to him. "I know this must be hard for you to understand," he told her. "Trust me, I would know. I'm a freak, even among supposedly my own kind. It hurts to know that I'm a child of two worlds, neither belonging to one or the other. I was given a hefty responsibility, to bridge two societies into one. Sometimes I don't think I can do that." He looked down, bringing his hands together and wringing them nervously. "I don't mean to make you nervous, or to make you feel uncomfortable around me. I just… I try. And sometimes I don't think even that's good enough."

Carolina took the time to process his words, noticing childlike nervousness leaking into his voice. This was a being, an adolescent, a child, who has a great destiny thrusted upon them from birth, who had been given a task no child should have to bear. Strangely, she could empathize with that. Though she hadn't been given as great of a task, being forced to grow up among a broken household after her mother died did make it feel like the world had been out to get her. She could understand that feeling just fine.

"It's okay," she finally spoke, offering her condolences to the young Sangheili. "I understand, way more than you can believe." Her words were truth, every last one of them. She did not know this Elite personally, not by a longshot, but she understood what it was like. Strangely enough, this was one of the first times in a long time that she could remember revealing her softer side to anyone. That it was a Sangheili of all people made it all the stranger.

Tucker stood off to the side, watching the interaction between Carolina and his son. It was weird, that was a given, but he could feel something warm in his chest. This was probably the most he'd seen Carolina open up before. He could see that, for the moment, her barriers were falling. It would take time before she would seem like a person instead of a soldier, and there would be a long road ahead, but he was all for it. He was also just so glad that she could find some sort of comradery with Junior.

Carolina reached a hand out in front of her. "Agent Carolina," she greeted.

Tucker could see Junior's demeanor brighten, lifting his head up, and, gingerly, shook it with his own. "Lavernius Tucker Junior," he greeted back.

Tucker smiled at the interaction. This would be the start of a wonderful friendship. He could feel it.


And there we have it, some interaction between Illinois and Church, a post-mission brief, their next location for the search to continue, some introspection from Carolina, and the formal introduction of Junior and Agent Carolina. Hope you all enjoy!

Up next: the All or Nothing and its crew resupply and receive reinforcements before departing to the next planet...