Prophecy awoke standing on her bridge, the room bustling with activity. Crewmen sat doting over their stations, awaiting the chance to demonstrate their well-honed competence to each other and any onlookers outside their ship. The bridge itself all but sparkled like new, every surface polished to a silvery hue. Even the floor lacked the stubborn layer of grime stamped into its very atoms by thousands of footsteps.

Then it hit her. She was new. It was July 23rd, 2523, the day of her shakedown cruise. And that meant…

She turned around to see the primary holoprojector displaying a familiar planet, one that she recognized despite her navigational data being purged.

"Reach…" she gawked, noticing the complete lack of reaction from her crew. Whatever had caused this dream, she had a growing suspicion that she wouldn't be influencing it in her current state.

Without thinking, she found herself standing in the vacuum of space, poised on the edge of her bow. Countless stars shone before her, names of local constellations and colonized stars tugging at her memory. Below her lay Reach, the gateway to Earth, vast swathes of rugged land dotted with patches of urban sprawl and military facilities that twinkled slightly beneath the light of Epsilon Eridani.

Even as she looked on in the vacuum, she could hear and see a rush of activity on her bridge. Not the controlled chaos of last-minute preparations for battle, but the barely-contained enthusiasm of a fresh crew preparing for their first voyage.

A familiar voice rose over the chaos of the bridge.

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"Navigation, take us into formation," Captain Delfosse ordered, the gray-haired officer standing unbowed by time and heedless of the excitement around him, exuding the attitude of a proud veteran ready to take on another mission.

My mission…

As her hull pulled away from a sprawling refit station, Prophecy recalled that this had been no ordinary shakedown cruise. Sure enough, she immediately spotted the waiting formation of ships her Captain had been referring to. From across thousands of kilometers, the hulls of more than 3 dozen warships glimmered before her, resplendent in freshly-cleaned titanium-A armor that looked practically chrome-plated. The fleet held position over Reach, sitting in relatively tight formation with the exception of one hole near the head of the column.

My position, she remembered.

A flurry of messages was exchanged between her comms officer and the waiting warships, the young sailor speaking with growing excitement the closer Prophecy got to the formation, distance measurements counting down on several holodisplays throughout the bridge. Instead of heading right into the designated coordinates that marked her place in the formation, Prophecy watched as her view shifted towards the tail-end of the column in a move that would let her pass by the entire fleet. Though she could already recognize the various classes of warship arrayed before her, it was only when she started to come up alongside them that she began to identify the ships themselves. In addition to their shining titanium-a hulls, every ship was arrayed in colorful paint schemes that incorporated their respective badges or namesakes in some way on top of the usual oversized peacetime hull numbers and names displayed in stark white.

Bringing up the rear of the formation were four Charon-class light frigates: the Maelstrom, Mosasaurus, Eliseo Claud, and Port Hueneme.

New ships just like me, Prophecy realized as she read off their hull numbers.

The pattern repeated with the Stalwart-class frigates, including the sequentially-numbered sisters William Clark and Meriwether Lewis, and followed by Aomori, Pontic, and Purpose,

After that came the very first block of the all-new Paris-class Heavy frigates that had just started taking to space that year : Paris, Durban, Split, Kumamoto, Commonwealth, Tally-ho, Pillsbury, and Oslo.

The last of the escorts were a large formation of Halberd-class light destroyers, the light of Epsilon Eridani glinting off their slanted hulls. Halberd herself was in the lead, but the rest of her sisters had just left the shipyards, including the new Las Vegas named in honor of the ship Preston Cole had saved during the Callisto incident, and the Kayenta, Pericles, Austerlitz, Campo Grande, Xyston, Oconee, Croajingolong, Inyo, and Chaco.

The parade of newer ships ended by the time Prophecy came alongside her sisters, including Marathon herself, Excellence, and Charles McMorris, but the Io, Sejong, and Weeping Willows were all new.

Last but certainly not least of the cruisers was the Valiant-class large cruiser Chevalier, intricate red paint adorning her imposing hull.

Next came a trio of Epoch-class carriers, the Basrah flanked by the Magellan and the Inchon.

Finally, no less than 3 Punic-class Supercarriers waited at the head of the fleet. The flagship Trafalgar took the lead, her sister Jutland bearing a matching Royal Navy ensign on her hull, and the Tsushima brought up the rear , a square divided into 4 equally-sized triangles colored yellow, blue, red, and black painted next to her hull number.

Having completed her review of the fleet, Prophecy felt her hull dip and turn gracefully to starboard, passing politely below Trafalgar's heading and coming around to take her place in the fleet. After another pass around from the opposite direction, she slowly took up position to the left of her eldest sister Marathon, while Sejong waited on her right. On her bridge, Captain Delfosse ordered one last review of her systems. Familiar voices answered proudly one by one.

"Slipspace drive ready."

"Fusion reactor running hot."

"Engines steady."

"Nav computer normal."

Prophecy waited for her weapons officer to check in, surprised by his apparent inattentiveness. Then she remembered it was 2523. Who was going to attack them? The Insurrectionists had nothing that could contest a fleet this big!

The systems check hadn't ended before the ship began accelerating alongside the rest of the fleet towards their designated jump point. Below them, Prophecy could clearly see various civilian liners and cargo transports slowing down to take in the sight, while numerous warships of the Epsilon Eridani defense fleet held position below as if standing at attention. The closest consisted of a squadron of Able-class Heavy destroyers led by the famous Gorgon, followed by her sisters Sacramento, Bunker Hill, and Do you feel lucky? The onlookers soon grew more and more distant below the rapidly-accelerating fleet until they were just more lights twinkling above Reach.

Before the jump point had been reached, Prophecy could see the fleet's first destination on the main holodisplay of her bridge: Alluvion, the gateway to the outer colonies. Prophecy and the others would go further from there, she knew, all part of a shakedown cruise embarked upon by her and the other new ships in the fleet that would serve as a "goodwill tour" of the Outer colonies. In the coming months, she and her crew would visit planets like Neos Atlantis, Utica, Bounty, Fremont, Rumelia, Ferry, Verent, Syrový, Shaoyang, and Eridanus II. By Christmas Eve, they would reach Madrigal, the last destination on their tour.

Prophecy felt excitement rise on the bridge for one last time as the fleet dispersed around her before they entered slipspace. At Trafalgar's signal , the entire fleet responded in unison, Navigation officers activating slipspace drives without a word. A massive sapphire vortex appeared before Prophecy, heralding the start of her first journey through human space. Despite knowing it was all a dream, she couldn't help but share in the innocent excitement of her crew.

"Here we go, friends," Captain Delfosse announced whimsically in defiance of his rank, pointing towards the swirling portal from the bridge, "Let's set sail!"

—

Prophecy awoke with a start, sitting up in the darkened troop bay of Oscar-16 in a flourish of excitement. She replayed the scenes in her dream over and over in her head, every moment passing with remarkable clarity. Deep within her body, she felt a resounding sense of contentment from her crew, the shapeless phantasms that had made their presence known since her return. Whether they had nudged her dream into being or spectated it, they were clearly satisfied to have experienced the memory. The tour of the outer colonies had been an auspicious start to her service: the last command of a prestigious and experienced Captain, given the honor of embarking upon a voyage through the frontier of human space for her first assignment. Though the specifics still eluded her, a strong sense of pride still rose in her chest at the memory of that shakedown cruise. Millions, if not billions of people, would've laid eyes upon her regally-decorated hull. Perhaps a few would've been inspired to join the Navy by her specifically. At a time when the main threat to the UNSC had been the Insurrection, the Navy could send substantial numbers of warships-the newest of the new, no less, on tours through the colonies like that one without compromising their defenses. The older ships could police trouble spots in their place just as effectively, so the thought process had gone.

She lingered mostly on the memories of the ships that had accompanied her. No man was an island as the saying went, and the same was true for ships. For the first time, she felt like she could put a face to names that went half-remembered in her mind. Every single one stood out distinctly in her memory, whether she had seen them solely on that voyage or later on.

Though she wanted to ponder those ships that had been her comrades more deeply, she felt a pang of concern about what lay down that route. Instead, she looked to her left, preparing to share her uplifting dream with someone who would appreciate it.

"Matei, I just-"

But the sleeping bag next to her lay empty, even though the troop bay and the hangar beyond remained dim for those exhausted marines outside who were finally getting some hard-earned rest. A quick check of her internal chronometer confirmed that more than 9 hours had passed, and she hoped Matei had gotten enough sleep during that time before he'd left.

Then she remembered the first time she'd fallen asleep in her new form, and how much less pleasant her very first dream had felt. Had sleeping in close proximity to a former member of her crew influenced her dreams this time around, or was it just a fluke?

As she pondered the question, the cruiser girl felt a growing tightness in her stomach, followed by an exasperated report from a phantasm she identified as her supply officer. Apparently, her first action in space had drained her middling fuel reserves by a considerable degree, not to mention the expenditure of 300 Archer missiles-12 pods total out of just 63. The sooner she got properly resupplied, the nagging ghost informed her, the better. For now, though, she could take some solace in the fact that normal food seemed to replenish her deuterium reserves, albeit only if she ate a lot of it.

Stepping softly out of the Pelican's troop bay, she wondered where she would find enough food to quell her appetite in the first place. The hangar was mostly empty of people, leaving only a few crates that might've held MREs in the open. Knowing that the marines weren't expecting to spend a long time inside the Covenant corvette, and that cramming everyone into the chosen transports would've made for a tight fit, she doubted that too much food had been brought aboard.

Before Prophecy could keep dwelling on her options, she spotted a familiar marine waving at her from below the pelican's wing. It was Ramon, one of the marines from Matei's squad. A few other marines sat lazily in a circle together, growing slightly more alert at the sight of their friend's gesture. The others quickly turned to watch Prophecy intently, a few eyeing her with suspicious looks on their faces. Ignoring the implications, Prophecy calmly approached the 5 marines with a smile.

"Sleep well?" The marine named Tackett asked, prompting a curious stare from Pasquin, the lone woman of the group. The silent exchange gave Prophecy a twinge of wariness. Though she hadn't noticed at the time, the young woman seemed to have nurtured some form of unrequited fascination with Matei, but the gap in their ranks had no doubt prevented it from developing. Now she was fully aware of the displeasure, and even envy, the marine had shown during their first conversation But when Roza looked back at Prophecy, she seemed more amused than anything. The cruiser girl hoped that saving her and the rest of her squad's life was enough to give the marine something to think about.

"Yes," Prophecy grinned, taking a seat at a newly-formed gap in the circle. Looking over the small group, she immediately asked the first question on her mind. "Where is everyone?"

Private Bossano responded first. "Barr is still sleeping. Mundsmann and Roye are in the infirmary. They were both really roughed up."

"Will they make it?" Prophecy cut in.

"If we get to a proper hospital, yes," Ramon answered.

That was grim, but it made sense. Plasma injuries were always unpleasant to treat, Prophecy recalled that well enough.

Ramon looked at her as though he'd remembered something important. "We don't know where Matei is," he noted absentmindedly.

Prophecy nodded. Whatever he'd snuck off to do, it was probably something important, most likely involving the marine officers he'd planned this operation with.

With that question out of the way, she decided to face her main concern head-on.

"Do you all know where I can get some food? I'm feeling hungry again."

She tensed, waiting for Pasquin or Van Wall to launch into some kind of melodramatic panic attack. The pair had unerringly provided her with all the food she'd asked for back on Algolis, likely driven by a combination of frayed nerves, long-term lack of sleep, and general disbelief. Prophecy felt no embarrassment for her feast-she needed to refuel somehow-although she wished she could've communicated her needs more formally.

Prophecy was so caught up in imagining how the marines would overreact that it took something slapping her in the face to knock her out of her concerns.

"Hey!"

"You were supposed to catch it," Ramon whined, "Where's that superhuman response time?"

She glared down at the object in question to see a large UNSC marine MRE box.

"Oh. Thank you."

The other marines also slid some MREs her way.

"Go on," Tackett urged, "You've earned it."

Prophecy looked down at the offerings, then back up at the marines with wavering eyes. For once, there was no confusion or disbelief on their faces. At last, all of them were grateful, and so was she.

—

Duorcth nearly bit down on his metal fork as he chewed another forkful of human food. The "cheesy bacon scrambled eggs" was vanishing from his meal tray at a disappointingly rapid pace with each mouthful she scarfed down, but he couldn't help it. Compared to the tasteless protein paste designed to be safely consumed by the many peoples of the Covenant he'd eaten for several years now, this human food was the most soulful meal he'd ever eaten. He expected to look back on the human meal with near revulsion should he ever start eating normally again; it was ultimately of the same mass-produced nature as Covenant rations, but with more flavor. For now, though, he was enjoying that flavor for all it was worth.

The Kig-Yar paused to take in his surroundings, marveling at the turn his life had taken. A day ago, he'd expected to be working in the bowels of this mangled hunk of metal and sleeping surrounded by Unggoy for several more years. Now he lived like royalty, and in more ways than one. For whatever reason, the human named Antonio had decided to let Duorcth have the former Shipmaster's quarters for the duration of their short trip. Maybe it was because he'd provided some kind of noteworthy information about Merg Vol's operation, or it could've been because he spoke english for all Duorcth knew.

Questions aside, the Kig-Yar found Utaral's quarters to be fascinating in their own right. He sat upon a massive Sangheili chair, his meal placed upon the antique table that accompanied it. The spacious room was filled with heirlooms and trophies belong to the dead Shipmaster: an ancient curveblade passed down by the Utaral clan, an ornate silver model of a heavy corvette bearing the nameplate Sentinel's Sword, the shattered and burnt fragments of a human AI's data crystal preserved in glass, supposedly recovered from a human flagship by Utaral himself according to a holographic plaque…

Without warning, the intricate door to the room split open, revealing a newcomer Duorcth didn't recognize. The human had dark brown hair and two haggard green eyes that didn't match up with his apparent youthful face. He wore one of their EVA suits, but since Duorcth had never seen one of them without their helmets during the previous day that was of no help in identifying the man.

Only when he spoke did Duorcth vaguely recall where he knew the human from.

"Hello Duorcth," he started confidently, looking over the seated Kig-Yar and his meal, "Didn't mean to interrupt, I was just hoping to ask some questions."

It was one of the marines from their "debriefing" in the forward junction, the Sergeant named 'Carehagyu" or something to that effect. He was the one who'd lead the attack on the bridge, if the extended discussion back there was any indication.

"I can answer whatever you ask." The Kig-Yar really couldn't do otherwise, as the glimpse of the two guards standing outside his new quarters was any indication. He was being given generous amenities, but ultimately the humans were still treating him like a prisoner.

"Excellent," the human replied as if Duorcth had a choice, leaving the Kig-Yar to wonder if he was being sincere or feigning friendliness as a kind of emotional trap.

"Because I don't think you understand how close you came to being torn limb from limb yesterday," he went on, remaining overly gracious in his tone.

Now Duorcth realized why the human is here. Very little remained for him to expound upon to his human hosts when it came to "intel". The very harrowing incident at the start of the discussion that had led to him being kicked out of the room, though, was something he had expected to come back and "bite him in the ass" as the humans said.

"Am I still in danger?" Duorcth asked, the simmering blue glow of the human female's eyes flashing in his mind again. All throughout the corvette, tired human boarders and passengers from their transports had watched him with a mixture of fascination, confusion, and annoyance. A few looked old enough to have fought in the war, though human reliance on cryogenic pods made it hard to be certain. But even the humans who had once faced the wrath of the Covenant or fled from it long ago hadn't watched him with as much hatred as that human.

"Good question, Duorcth. Prophecy told me everything was going to be in the clear after her little outburst or two yesterday, so I'm thinking she's not going to come barging in here. Unfortunately, she was also fibbing when she said that, and badly. So since I can't get her to explain why she has a bone to pick with your species, I decided to go to the source."

Duorcth tensed, pushing his food away as the human's tone grew sharper. Once again, the human had referred to the female by that name. Was it a code name? What had he meant by outbursts?

The human watched him with a knowing smile. "If you want, I can show a recreation of the fight from this corvette's sensor logs on the bridge, just in case you think there was some other ship that helped us get aboard."

"How?" Was all Duorcth asked, because he knew better than to keep being incredulous. He had felt that hate in the human female's eyes, heard the barely-contained spite in her voice. It was as if she hadn't been born after the war like her youthful appearance indicated, but slept through it instead.

"You don't have to believe everything that's happened, you just have to help me out here. Why would a human ship name scare a Kig-Yar?"

Duorcth noted the human wasn't reverting to their usual slang for his species. Another attempt to get his guard down, perhaps? He didn't need to have bothered.

Slowly, Duorcth drank from a human canteen full of water to study himself, then began to explain.

"It was a ghost story my father told us as chicks, you must know the kind. He told us it was a Yhav-relkt," he explained, repeating the Kig-Yar term he'd uttered the previous day. "A Cursed Ship, and the curse had been passed onto him for setting foot within it in search of treasure. If we didn't pay attention to our lessons or get to sleep on time, the ghosts of the Prophecy's crew would get us. Nothing too creative."

Duorcth watched the human's expression twitch, shifting between a mix of emotions his unversed eyes couldn't identify.

"Wait…" he asked, "I would expect your Lieutenant to speak with me about this incident, not you, so either you're here on his behalf, or this concerns you because…"

"Yeah, I'm a ghost, whoooo." The human held his hands out before him and wiggled his fingers in a gesture the Kig-Yar didn't recognize.

"Impossible. You are too young to have been alive in those days."

"Hey, you tell your story, and then I'll tell mine. Come on, you must've asked him about it when you were older."

"I did," Duorcth replied hesitantly, "but it would've been 30 of your years later, or more. He didn't remember everything of his time at war, and always tried to forget what he did."

"Go on," the human urged, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

The Kig-Yar took another sip of water and obeyed in a gradual manner. "My Father joined a privateer flotilla that had signed a contract with the Ministry of Resolution a few years after the war started. The Covenant's subjugation of a primitive species was regarded as a fine opportunity to seek adventure and riches…"

He waited for the human to show any signs of annoyance or personal offense, then went on.

"As my Father himself said he was hoping to attain on the fringes of the war. What not even the captains of the flotilla knew was that they would be assigned to the Fleet of Glorious Interdiction. You know of them, I assume."

"I did a little bit of research," the human nodded.

"Then you will know where my Father was sent first: the planet you call Harvest. The Arbiter's fleet had lost many ships and was in desperate need of reinforcements."

"To guard their hunt for the relic, I know. I was there."

Ignoring the human's interruption, Duorcth went on, growing steadily more enthusiastic the more he remembered his Father's words. He had gone without speaking to his clan for too long.

"My Father was just a minor warrior, you know. He had no direct access to the bridge. But he told me of rumors that the fleet was losing ships, one by one and two by two, every few solar cycles. More should've been sent, it was whispered, but the Arbiter wouldn't divert his heavier ships from their digging efforts. Then one day it was reported the human ship responsible had been destroyed. But it was a lie! Another attack on the human base was thwarted. You see, that became another aspect of the curse. The ship was destined to reflect all the pain it received back on any who challenged it."

"But you-uh-they did take her out, without destroying her? Is that right?"

"Indeed they did, and my Father swears the weapons were still operational for a few days! But they fell silent soon enough, and he learned why when he was assigned to a boarding party."

The human now listened with more than a little excitement evident in his dull green eyes.

"Something had overloaded the ship's reactor. It was being soaked with radiation from within. That's why my Father and the rest of the boarding party were given special vacuum suits designed for just such an occasion. They went on board hoping to scavenge anything that was both valuable and easily decontaminated, but…"

"What?"

Duorcth hesitated.

"Go on, we both know your Dad's 'ghosts' weren't quite dead by the time he got there."

"What must I tell you? It was war. He barely made it off your ship alive! But he never forgot the name etched into its hull, even when it was just meaningless pictograms to him. He studied your languages in part so he could comprehend it.

Now, what of your role in this? Were you in the base that the ship was protecting, or did you flee the ship in an escape pod?"

The human watched him with an unreadable expression.

"Did your Dad mention another ship coming to Prophecy's aid?"

"No, what I've told you is where the story ends. He said nothing of any additional ships, just that the flotilla sent in more scavenging parties after he made it back. I would expect you to know the rest of the story."

"I should," he sighed, "But I don't know all of it. No posthumous awards, lots of black ink, and too many MIAs out there. Hard to believe she's gotten more recognition as another's specie's ghost story."

The human smiled, and Duorcth attempted to mimic the expression, unsure if it was insincere or not.

"The real question is: how do I bring this up to her? What did you call her, again?"

"A Yhav-relkt."

"Cursed ship…would she approve of the nickname?" He looked askance and rubbed his chin before glancing at Duorcth.

"I think we're done here. You just told me a lot more than I was hoping for, so thank you."

He strolled out the door, ignoring the salutes of the two guards.

Duorcth studied his meal after the door closed. He pondered what he'd learned: a human ship had taken on a life of its own, a warrior posted to that same ship immune to the passage of so much time. Yhav-relkt, he thought again. Cursed ship, and this time the ghosts are real.

Have I lost my appetite? The Kig-Yar looked over the half-eaten tray for a minute.

Not for these scrambled eggs! He decided, taking another forkful and scarfing it down. Duorcth couldn't wait to arrive at the human colony and set foot on a civilized world. Not only would the food be better, but it would surely be much safer there.

A/N: Forwhatdididotogethere-

Nope, they crew wouldn't have any slipspace coordinates memorized, something I'm certain isn't feasible going off the wiki. Also, I wouldn't go so far as to use the T-word because apparently that's a bit of a burnt-out trope in kancolle fanfiction, but she does have some residual dislike of Jackals specifically as a result of seeing them "face to face" unlike the rest of the Covenant. I was inspired in large part by the short comic Halo War Genesis, which you can read for free on Halopedia