Chapter 2: Halo
Despite the open invitation to stay, Zackary opted to explore the ship instead, offering a brief but friendly goodbye as he exited the briefing room.
As he strolled down the narrow corridors, he couldn't help but note that the ship's purpose seemed justified, despite its age. It was equipped with two storage hangars, a cryobay that could hold up to fifteen people, a modest bridge, a briefing room, a small cafeteria, and personal quarters. Though not spacious, the ship had enough functionality to serve its purpose. However, the rusted walls and leaking pipes revealed its age—this vessel had seen better days.
Approaching the bridge, Zackary glanced inside and noticed two women seated in metal chairs, their eyes fixed on lines of code streaming across their screens. Though tempted to introduce himself, he decided against it, opting instead to let them work. There would be time for pleasantries later.
By the time he finished his exploration, dinner was drawing near. Still a bit early, Zackary's hunger from cryosleep got the better of him, and he headed to the cafeteria. Entering the somewhat cramped space, he grabbed a tray of 'Web'Os' and a bottle of 'Baijiu' before sitting at the central circular table. Before long, the door slid open, and the team's youngest member, Kai, shuffled in.
Noticing the kid's awkward movements, Zackary couldn't help but prod a little. "So, kid, why are you here?"
Startled, Kai froze mid-step before glancing over at Zackary, who was eating in an unbothered manner.
The term "kid" was perhaps a bit much—Zackary wasn't much older—but still old enough that the title didn't quite apply to him anymore. From the look on Kai's face, it was clear he disagreed with the label.
"Huh? Isn't it polite to state your own reason first?" Kai retorted, recovering from his initial surprise.
"Money," Zackary replied quickly—maybe too quickly, as Kai blinked in surprise.
"I meant your age. Being a mercenary isn't exactly an easy line of work for someone like you."
Kai, now carrying his tray of food, approached the table and sat across from Zackary. "I know what you meant. People ask me that a lot... It's not what I want to do."
Zackary raised an eyebrow. "Forced into it?"
Kai gave a short nod. "Something like that."
Not wanting to dwell on the topic, Kai shifted the conversation. "What about you? Why are you so focused on money? You need it for something?"
A small smirk tugged at Zackary's lips as he mimicked Kai's earlier response. "Something like that."
The two spent the rest of the meal engaging in light conversation before Zackary decided to retire to his quarters.
His quarters were far from luxurious—closer to a storage closet than living space—but he'd stayed in worse, and for just a few days, it would suffice. At least it was better than cryosleep. Still, sleep didn't come easily, and when Zackary woke, his mind was restless.
Bored with pacing the halls, he decided to inspect his gear. Arriving at the storage locker, he noticed someone else already inside. Broad shoulders and a muscular build told him it was Delmar.
Zackary approached quietly, but Delmar spoke first. "So, what do you think of the ship?"
Zackary furrowed his brow, knowing Delmar wasn't asking about aesthetics. This was about functionality. Insight.
"All things considered, it's well-equipped," Zackary replied. "But it's not designed for extended missions or high-traffic areas. Feels more like a temporary or covert ops vessel."
Delmar nodded. "Agreed, though even for those, the storage space seems excessive."
Zackary glanced around. "Makes you wonder what kind of deal the Captain made with Mr. Spectre to get this job."
Delmar gave a slight shrug. "Whatever it was, I'm sure it wasn't just for money."
"What makes you think that?" Zackary asked, intrigued.
"Simple. The Captain doesn't seem desperate enough to take on a mission like this just for cash."
"She could be deep in debt, owing the wrong people," Zackary offered.
"Maybe," Delmar said thoughtfully. "But don't you think there's more to it? Raiding Forerunner artifacts has never worked out for anyone, and suddenly, it's supposed to be safe?"
Zackary frowned. "Of course, something's off. But isn't that the usual for us? Since when has a broker ever given us the full story?"
Delmar's expression darkened. "This one's different. No one's ever pulled off a successful Forerunner raid. It's never been safe."
Zackary sighed. "Then we stick to what we know. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."
Delmar grunted in agreement, then his eyes shifted over Zackary's shoulder. "...Is that an M6C?"
Zackary grimaced, already accustomed to the judgment. "Size isn't everything."
Over the next few days, Zackary's routine became a cycle of patrolling the ship, checking his weapons, and making small talk with the crew. He grew closer to Delmar and Kai, who were often together, and even tolerated the occasional one-sided rant from Dr. Connor. He exchanged a few words with the Captain as well, and had a brief conversation with one of the pilots, a woman named Rebecca, but that was the extent of his interactions.
With less than twelve hours left until they exited slipspace, Delmar called a strategy meeting. Most of the crew attended.
As everyone gathered around the table, Kai was the first to speak. "Where's the Captain, Rebecca, and Sally?"
Zackary raised an eyebrow. You know all their names? he wondered, but Delmar answered before he could speak.
"The Captain and the pilots won't touch down with us. They'll remain in orbit unless needed. Once we're on the ground, it's our show," Delmar said firmly.
Dr. Connor leaned forward. "So, what's the plan?"
Zackary quickly chimed in, not wanting to waste time. "Dr. Connor should stay onboard until we confirm the presence of artifacts and assess the environment. We don't know the planet's terrain or its wildlife."
Delmar nodded, and Dr. Connor agreed, more eagerly than anyone else.
"I'll take point," Delmar continued, "and Zackary will cover the rear."
Kai looked up, eyes narrowing. "What about me?"
"You'll use the scanner Mr. Spectre provided to guide us. We need to know exactly where we're headed," Delmar explained.
"Ah, right..." Kai muttered, looking slightly relieved.
"If Dr. Connor's staying aboard, shouldn't the ship stay grounded for easy extraction?" Kai asked.
Zackary frowned. "Grounding the ship would mean we need to secure a safe landing zone and possibly deal with longer retrieval times for Dr. Connor. It opens up opportunities for ambushes."
Delmar scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Good point... I'm not used to these kinds of environments."
"Don't worry about it," Zackary said. "The western continents of Andesia are known for their unpredictable ecosystems. The pharmaceutical industries there thrive on it, but it's risky ground."
"I'm not from Andesia," Delmar replied, his tone a bit more guarded. "I'm from Arcadia."
Zackary inclined his head. "My mistake."
Delmar acknowledged it with a nod, then addressed the room. "I hope this will be a learning experience for all of us—a safe one, of course."
Everyone murmured their agreement.
"This might be a dumb question…" Kai started hesitantly, his voice dropping as the others turned to him. "But what exactly are Forerunner artifacts?"
Zackary and Delmar exchanged surprised looks.
"You don't know?" they both asked in unison.
Zackary frowned, incredulous. How could someone sign up for a mission like this without knowing what they were after?
"Well... no," Kai admitted, looking a little defensive. "But do you?"
That bold retort caught them both off guard. Zackary's frown deepened as he gathered his thoughts. He had some knowledge, but not much—just what had been made public by the Office of Naval Intelligence.
"Admittedly, not much," Zackary began slowly. "The Forerunners were an ancient race with technology far beyond anything we've ever developed. They're also the objects of worship for the Covenant, especially the San'Shyuum."
He paused, recalling the devastation left in the wake of the Covenant's fanatical pursuit of these artifacts. There had always been something ominous about them, even to the humans who had barely scratched the surface of their secrets.
Dr. Connor's voice cut in. "Correct. You're more knowledgeable than you let on, Zackary. The Covenant's obsession with the Forerunners is what sparked the war with humanity."
"Some fucking reason to start a war," Delmar muttered darkly.
Dr. Connor seemed unfazed by the bitterness. "The human-Covenant war officially ended on March 3rd, 2553, six years ago. But the scars are still fresh."
Zackary remained silent. The devastation of that war was still etched into everyone's mind—planets reduced to glass, entire populations wiped out.
"Thankfully, we won the war. But there's more to the Forerunners than their connection to the Covenant. Their legacy is what intrigues me most. I assume you're aware of the existence of Forerunner artifacts?"
Kai frowned, unsure. "If you mean relics or technology left behind by them, then yeah. But beyond that? Not really."
Dr. Connor nodded, his tone taking on an edge of excitement. "Precisely. The Forerunner artifacts were the centerpieces of some of the most important battles of the war. They were highly coveted by the Covenant. New Mombasa in Africa was glassed just to access one. Millions died in that attack alone."
The room fell into silence, the weight of those words hanging in the air. Before Dr. Connor could elaborate further, the ship's intercom crackled to life.
"Attention, all lovely ragtag crew members with death wishes. We've just exited hyperspace and are moving toward the coordinates provided. Prepare yourselves. We'll be in orbit as soon as we... Locate... What the fuck?"
The intercom cut out abruptly, leaving the crew in the room on edge. Delmar and Zackary locked eyes.
"I'll check it out," Zackary said, already rising to his feet.
Delmar nodded. "Report back."
With a quick nod of acknowledgment, Zackary left the room, his mind racing. Whatever had caught the pilot off guard was likely more serious than they'd expected.
Having already familiarized himself with the ship's layout over the past few days, Zackary made it to the bridge quickly. He didn't bother knocking, instead pushing the door open and stepping inside. Rebecca, the Captain, Dylan, and the woman known as Sally were all huddled around one of the computers, their faces tense with concentration.
Zackary frowned, moving closer. What the hell is going on?
No one noticed him at first as the Captain snapped in frustration. "What do you mean you can't scan it?"
"I don't know what else you want me to do!" Dylan shot back, equally aggravated. "Whatever that thing is, it's not dirt or rock—it's metal!"
"You're telling me it's a shell?" the Captain asked, voice laced with disbelief.
"No, it's worse. It's a massive construct made of metal," Dylan replied, shaking his head as if the very idea was absurd.
Zackary stepped forward to get a better look at the screen, but before he could, the Captain grabbed him by the ear and yanked him closer. "Oi, meatball, take a look at this."
He was about to retort, but his words died in his throat as his eyes landed on the screen.
A massive, circular structure spun lazily in space, rotating clockwise. It was no simple anomaly—it was an enormous ring, its surface metallic and lined with patterns that looked too deliberate to be natural. His brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the sight.
"Is this your planned engagement ring?" Zackary quipped, though his voice lacked confidence.
The Captain didn't hesitate to punch him lightly, but the playful banter evaporated as she dragged his head closer to the screen. "Laugh all you want, smartass, because you're the one landing on it."
Zackary's smirk disappeared as his attention shifted back to the image. "Wait—what do you mean landing on it?" His tone had turned serious as his eyes scanned the screen more closely.
Now that he looked with more focus, he realized this wasn't just an image. The scale was far beyond what he had initially thought. This wasn't some diagram or distant object. It was directly in front of them—looming.
The enormous ring had to be miles across, its sheer size staggering. Its outer surface was composed of intricate metallic designs, but what was most unnerving was the atmosphere encased within. He could make out landmasses, mountain ranges, and what looked like vast oceans on the inner surface of the ring. It wasn't just a machine—it was a world.
Zackary's gaze shifted from the monitor to the viewport in front of the ship. And there it was. The ring, spinning slowly in the void, its colossal structure dwarfing anything he'd ever seen. The sheer magnitude of it took his breath away.
The Captain's voice cut through his shock. "You've heard of Forerunner artifacts, right?"
Zackary nodded, still transfixed by the sight. "Yeah. But this…" He trailed off, words failing him.
"This is something else," the Captain finished for him, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. She stared at the ring with the same uneasy awe. "We're supposed to be looking for small relics, but this… no one told us about this…"
Zackary frowned. "No, they kept it from us."
"How did we miss it until now?" Zackary asked, his voice hushed.
Dylan shook his head in frustration. "It wasn't there until we dropped out of slipspace. It's like it was… hiding, or phased out somehow. Our scanners didn't pick it up until we were almost on top of it."
Zackary's mind raced as he tried to process what he was seeing. "Are we sure it's Forerunner?"
The Captain crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the massive ring. "It has to be. Nothing else in the galaxy comes close to this kind of scale. But the question is… what the hell is it doing here?"
Zackary took a step closer to the viewport, staring out at the ring as it continued its slow, deliberate rotation. The landmasses on its interior seemed oddly serene from this distance, but the very concept of a ringworld—one that could house entire ecosystems—was unnerving. There was an overwhelming sense of ancient power in its design, something far beyond human comprehension.
"How do we even begin to explore this thing?" Zackary muttered, almost to himself.
The Captain turned toward him, a grim smile forming on her face. "That's where you and the team come in. We're going to get as close as we can, then you're heading down there."
Zackary stared at her in disbelief. "You can't be serious. We have no idea what's down there, let alone what this thing is capable of."
"No one said it was going to be easy," the Captain replied, her expression hardening. "But this is what we signed up for and it changes nothing. The place is obviously large enough for us to land on it, so its our job to find out. And I have a feeling this mission just got a lot more complicated."
Zackary felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he looked back at the ring. Complicated didn't even begin to cover it. Whatever the Forerunners had built, it was far beyond anything they were prepared for.
Zackary barely had time to process the awe of the Halo ring before the tense voice of Rebecca cut through the atmosphere.
"Captain! We got company!" Rebecca shouted from her station, her tone tight with urgency.
The Captain whipped around, her voice sharp. "Report!"
Dylan's fingers danced across the console as he quickly responded, "Multiple slipspace signatures in our airspace!"
"How close?" the Captain barked.
"Very!" Dylan replied just as the ship shook slightly, the telltale sign of gravitational distortions from ships emerging from slipspace.
Through the viewport, the crew watched as dark, swirling portals erupted into view, spilling vessels into the black void of space. Zackary's heart sank as the reality of the situation unfolded.
"Captain!" Dylan called out, urgency in his voice. "I'm picking up at least 25 ships… and more are probably on the way!"
The Captain's eyes narrowed. "IFF tags?"
"Mixed," Dylan replied, his tone grim. "Some are showing as cargo ships, others as luxury yachts."
"Mercenaries? Pirates?" The Captain voiced her growing suspicion.
"Probably more…" Zackary muttered under his breath, as the rest of the crew filed into the bridge, drawn by the commotion.
Kai rushed forward, his eyes wide as he stared at the fleet of ships beginning to surround them. "Who are they?"
Delmar stepped up behind him, his expression grim. "Double-Ups."
Kai turned, confused. "What are Double-Ups?"
The Captain let out a long breath. "Backup. It's not uncommon for contractors to issue the same mission to multiple teams and promise the same reward to whoever completes it first. In high-risk missions, they hedge their bets by hiring more mercenaries without telling each group."
Kai blinked, still processing. "But… is that necessary?"
The Captain's gaze hardened. "Only for missions that are extremely dangerous." Her eyes swept across the room. "Which means… this is a high-risk mission."
The realization sent a shiver through the crew. The stakes were suddenly much higher than anyone had anticipated.
Zackary, still processing the gravity of the situation, asked, "Offensive weapons?"
"None," the Captain replied bitterly. "This ship was designed for stealth, not combat. It's got no teeth."
The weight of those words settled over the bridge. They could see through the viewport that many of the other ships had weapons—some bristling with guns and missiles, clearly designed for a fight. The Luck of Times was not.
Then, suddenly, Dylan froze. "Captain, we're receiving a communication request."
The Captain raised an eyebrow. "Patch it through."
The voice that crackled through the comm was deep and gruff, carrying a certain casual authority. "This is the Nostromo. We are requesting to remain within medium distance to your vessel."
The Captain leaned forward, her tone guarded. "This is the Luck of Times. For what purpose?"
"Safety in numbers, ma'am," the voice replied. "We don't want to poke the hornet's nest unless we have to. Let's stick together and split the prize."
The Captain paused, then a slow grin spread across her face as she lit a cigar. "Permission granted. Stay close. Maybe we'll share this plunder together."
The man's chuckle echoed over the comm. "Happy to hear it. Maybe I'll buy you a drink after."
The comms cut off, leaving the bridge in a strange, tense calm.
"What's happening?" Delmar asked, stepping closer.
The Captain puffed on her cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "There's no fighting for now because there isn't a need. Look at that ring out there—there's enough surface area for everyone. No one's going to risk open conflict when they all think there's plenty of loot to go around."
Zackary nodded slowly. "So… they're playing it safe. No one wants to fire the first shot because it'll turn into an all-out brawl."
"Exactly," the Captain said, her eyes gleaming with understanding. "And as long as we keep close to these other ships, we'll look like part of a pack. No one's going to target us if we're in a group."
After some time, the tension on the bridge began to ease as they merged into a loose group of five vessels: The Zephyr, Terra, Zenith, and The Nostromo. All traveled together toward the Forerunner ring.
Still, as the minutes passed, the ominous ring loomed closer, its massive structure becoming more and more detailed. Zackary couldn't help but stare at the surreal sight.
The ring was vast—elegant yet ancient. Towering mountains, sprawling forests, and endless oceans glittered in the artificial light that bathed its surface. The smooth, curving metal exterior caught the distant light of nearby stars, reflecting hues of silver and blue. This was a construct of unimaginable power, created by beings long gone, but its beauty was undeniable.
It was both majestic and terrifying. There was something eerie about it—a quiet, solemn presence that hung in the void like a monument to an ancient civilization's triumphs and their ultimate downfall.
The bridge of The Luck of Times was alive with the chaotic hum of alarms and frantic voices when the group communication line crackled to life.
"Be advised," came the urgent voice over the comms, "we are picking up another ship behind us. It's gaining speed fast."
The Captain snapped to attention, her voice sharp. "Rebecca, location?"
Rebecca's fingers flew across the console, but her expression was grim as she looked up. "Unknown. Either it's out of our range, or our systems are too outdated to pick it up."
"This is The Zephyr," another ship chimed in. "We've detected it too. It's closing in fast. What are our offensive capabilities?"
Before the Captain could respond, a shout came from The Nostromo that sent chills through the room. "No! We don't have time! It's launched something! All vessels, evade!"
Without hesitation, Sally, who was in control of The Luck of Times, threw the ship into a hard dive. The ship lurched downward violently, sending the crew crashing into walls, consoles, or clinging to anything solid as gravity fought against them.
Zackary felt his stomach drop, his body bracing against the sudden g-force as he grabbed onto a nearby support beam. His breath caught in his throat when, through the viewport, he saw a bright green light streak across space, crawling directly overhead.
The light slammed into The Terra, one of their allied vessels.
"This is The Terra! We've been hit! We need—" The transmission cut out abruptly. The next thing the crew saw was the ship imploding in on itself, a brilliant, devastating flash of light that filled the viewport, blinding everyone on the bridge. Systems on the ship flickered, monitors briefly fizzling as energy spiked across the consoles, before they stabilized again.
Zackary squinted against the afterimage burned into his eyes, his heart pounding as he turned toward the Captain. Her face was a mask of fury.
"What the hell was that!?" the Captain screamed into the comms.
"We—don't know! The ship is still gaining on us!" The Zephyr responded, panic edging their voice.
Amid the frantic comm chatter, Zackary's mind raced. The green light… he had seen it before, during the war. He gripped his sidearm tightly, forcing himself to focus as the rest of the crew reeled from the shock.
He turned to Kai, urgency in his voice. "Get to the back and check storage. Look for anything that can help—ammo, explosives, tech—anything!"
Kai hesitated. "Like what?"
"Anything!" Zackary barked, his mind scrambling for options. They were unarmed in a combat zone, surrounded by mercenaries, and being hunted by something powerful enough to obliterate a ship in one shot.
Before Kai could move, Dylan's voice cut through the commotion, his face pale. "Captain! The ship's closing fast, it's about to fly over us!"
"Hold on!" The Captain growled, her hands gripping the controls with white knuckles.
Then Dylan shouted again. "Captain! We have a new slipspace signature!"
"I don't care right now!" the Captain yelled, her focus locked on evasive maneuvers.
But Zackary wasn't paying attention to their evasions. His eyes were glued to the viewport as the incoming ship came into view. His blood ran cold.
A sleek, deadly shape cut through space above them—a teardrop-shaped craft, sleek and metallic, with a purple hull that glistened under the distant starlight. The ship's signature wings curved like blades, shimmering as they adjusted in flight, moving with terrifying grace and precision. Two movable flaps flanked either side of its hull, a detail Zackary recognized instantly. He felt his stomach twist with dread.
His voice was barely a whisper, terror lacing his words. "Separate us from everyone else… it's a goddamn Seraph."
"What?" The Captain snapped, her eyes darting toward him. "What are you talking about?"
Zackary's gaze stayed locked on the alien fighter soaring overhead, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. He raised his voice, urgency spilling into every word. "IT'S NOT HUMAN—IT'S COVENANT!"
The bridge went silent, the gravity of his words sinking in.
Zackary's mind raced, his pulse pounding in his ears. Why would a Seraph be out here by itself? Seraphs never flew solo—they were always part of a fleet, protecting capital ships or attacking alongside larger forces. The implications made his heart race.
He turned sharply toward Dylan. "What's the IFF of the new vessel?!"
Dylan stared at his console, his face pale as the colour drained from his cheeks. He looked up slowly, eyes wide with horror, and met Zackary's gaze.
"…Enemy," Dylan whispered.
The word hung in the air like a death sentence.
