Halo: Dark Stars-Death Dimension

by Ash Maelstrom

AU/FUSION FIC. Part one of a series! 2578. What do Marine stragglers, Sangheili mercenaries, and Banished raiders all have in common? They're about to have a really shitty 25th anniversary of the Great War's end. At the fringes of the battlefield, something is stirred by the rhythm of war and death...or was it already awake and waiting?

14. C11: two old guys talking about the war

Alpha Aurigae system.

A shimmering disk of cerulean light appeared for just a few moments before gently depositing its unimposing cargo. Even so, the relatively smooth slipspace transition went off like a church bell to sensors all throughout the vicinity. On the bridge of the Covenant heavy corvette once known as the Faith be my shield, alarms quickly alerted the makeshift crew drawn from its new human owners that they had been detected.

"We're being hailed," PFC Khalastam Hassa informed Lieutenant Antonio Maldini, who stood with several other officers and NCOs around the primary holodisplay situated in the center of the bridge. Before them was a rough replication of a planet that featured a few large bodies of water. Matching symbols began to flash tentatively above sections of the surface.

"Are those the cities?" Lieutenant Arnavisca asked nobody in particular. "Their sensors are powerful indeed."

"Source of the request?" Maldini called to Hassa, ignoring the impressed reactions of other marines who hadn't dabbled with Covenant technology up-close before.

"It appears to be a listening post in a loose orbit around Capella, sir." Hassa explained.

"Makes sense. We popped up close," Maldini looked out the transparent alloy that dominated much of the bridge towards a particularly large object shining in the space beyond. "A little too close. Patch them through."

A nonchalant man's voice soon filled the bridge.

"Unidentified Covenant ship, this is Chief Petty Officer Geznen of listening post Hotel, I've got 10 nukes pointed right at your bridge, so either backpedal into slipspace where you came or explain yourself."

There was a brief pause as the marines absorbed this threat.

"Can't they read our modified transponder signal, or see that we've powered down the shields?" 2nd Lieutenant Parker protested.

"This is just usual listening post humor, let them have their fun," Staff Sergeant Bidwell countered. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Maldini calmly approached the Shipmaster's command chair, though its Sangheili-centric shape discouraged him from taking a seat. He pressed the holographic button that would activate its personal comms interface and responded.

"Station Hotel, this is Lieutenant Antonio Maldini of Delta Company, 2nd motorized battalion, 6th marine garrison regiment, 19th combined detachment based on Algolis. We were put under siege by Covenant warlords for a few weeks and just commandeered this vessel from Merg Vol's forces."

A younger man's voice joined the transmission. "Woah, you hijacked a Covenant ship? That's awesome!"

"Shut up Wenninger," Geznen replied. "Okay Martini-"

"It's Maldini, and I know your class of listening post is completely unarmed, by the way."

Geznen said nothing while the other man, Wenninger apparently, gave a poorly-muffled laugh that was suddenly silenced. Soon after, the CPO replied.

"Fine, Lieutenant. So why'd you come running here, anyway?"

"You should be receiving an encrypted data package explaining the situation now. We have intel on two different former Covenant groups intending to advance on and possibly occupy human colonies. This system could be next in line for a full-scale invasion. You need to forward this information to whoever's in charge of the defense forces here, they should be able to decipher the data."

"Covenant encryption, very clever, Lieutenant. Alright, I'm rerouting this data to the system defense HQ on Capella and the flagship of the defense fleet. Stay nice and slow on your current heading while I direct some corvettes to escort your ship towards Tetrarch station. After that, get ready to be debriefed by whoever gets to you first. Hotel out."

—

Standing patiently on the sidelines, Prophecy listened intently to the first exchange of messages between the approaching escorts and the marines on the bridge, feeling her reactor burning intently within her chest. For the first time, she would be setting foot on a human colony, and it made her feel very excited. Alpha Aurigae was not among the systems she visited in her last life, and she wanted to see how a colony that had weathered the war might've developed. She was also interested in learning how the Covenant attack on the system in October 2526 had panned out. From what vague reference remained in her mind, it had been even more intense than the Covenant's Harvest counteroffensive the following month.

"Attention corvette, this is Nakatsu, we're coming alongside you, please follow the trajectory we're transmitting your way," A bored man's voice filled the bridge as 3 small objects rapidly approached from outside the window.

"Hey, they're not using the new name," Matei jokingly warned her from where he stood to her right. Prophecy just giggled at the observation and kept watching the incoming escorts. Hassa had apparently hacked the Corvette's transponder to display its newly-assigned nickname "Our son of a bitch" in plain English, not that the crew of its human counterparts seemed to care.

Prophecy spared a glance at the former member of her marine complement, noting that the slightly taller marine also looked increasingly impatient at the prospect of getting off the ship. The two had discussed what would await them-or rather, her-a few hours beforehand after learning just how quickly they would arrive in the system. Because of her unique nature, the cruiser girl stood a good chance of being separated from the marines,though they might even do so simply because she wasn't a UNSC servicewoman and therefore wouldn't appear in the Navy's database. Whatever happened, he promised to stay with her for as long as he possibly could. Prophecy was grateful that she had someone as dedicated as Matei at her side, and slid imperceptibly closer to him while he was distracted watching the incoming UNSC corvettes

The next two in the patrol also identified themselves, their hulls and names illuminated in blue on the bridge's main holodisplay. All three were Gladius-class ships with a slightly-sloped fore section and a curved engine housing. Prophecy had to do a double take after she read the names of the latter two.

"Kavieng and Terminal Island," she noted. "I think I had those two in my databanks during the war". Given how underpowered Corvettes had proven to be from the start of the war, she thought they'd always be the most likely class to survive after they were mercifully yanked from the frontline in 2530. The Nakatsu remained a mystery to her, though she noted its much larger hull number and the II after its name that remained unspoken. It wouldn't surprise her if that ship was named from another one lost earlier during the war, though the II as a specific callback to a prior loss seemed like a new practice to her.

After the corvettes assembled in a tight arrow formation ahead and to either side of the former Faith be my shield, the four ships were off at maximum burn towards Capella, which quickly came into proper view from another shining star to a vibrant ball of greens, browns, and splashes of blue fully illuminated by the quadruple stars that formed Capella in the night sky above Earth.

Before they came into view, several more IFF tags for various ships appeared on the holodisplay, dominated by the blocky silhouette of a large space station labeled "TETRARCH" that reminded of the larger refit stations her crew had seen back on Reach. But it was the names of the ships themselves that caught her eye more, causing her to sprint up towards the holodisplay and for a closer look.

"Is that what I think it is…" she whispered frantically, glaring at one holographic approximation in particular.

"Hey, it's Toulouse!" Matei pointed from next to her. Sure enough, the distinctive outline of a Halcyon-class cruiser with the tag "C-705 Toulouse" was standing by a short distance from Tetrarch station.

"That's Big T alright," Lieutenant Parker added. "Last of the Halcyons."

Prophecy was amazed that a Halcyon could remain in service after so long, recalling that at least a dozen out of 50 total had been lost in the 4 years she'd seen of the war.

Next her attention was drawn to the trio of larger cruisers floating next to the station.

"Berlin M Tursk," she read aloud sadly. "He really died?"

"Over Estuary, 2549," Maldini answered without turning back. "My Father was there. He made Vice Admiral, though I guess he was a captain when you knew him."

"Of my sister Darwin, yes. What type of cruisers are those?"

"Autumn-class."

"Autumn? As in Pillar of Autumn?" Prophecy crossed her arms. "Why does a Halcyon get a ship class named after her and not one of my sisters?"

Maldini looked around the room. "Who wants to tell her?"

Prophecy glared at him, then spotted another cruiser that caught her attention.

"Mycale…" She read the name aloud, realizing that the lone cruiser was a Marathon, just like her. The name was new, though, so she must've been commissioned later in the war.

"What's your issue with Halcyons?" Matei's question distracted Prophecy again.

"Oh, well they were very determined ships, but because they were so undergunned…"

A memory flashed before her eyes-plasma torpedoes slammin home one after the other, 3 shearing off chunks of the rolling cruiser's hull and careening away while only one dove deep within near the engines. But that lone direct hit was enough, crumpling the ravaged hull and tearing the dying fusion engines free of the mangled light cruiser. Finally, Voskanyan recovered from his shock and restated the obvious: "Emden is gone!"

"...and their engines were underpowered, they were always a little…klutzy?"

Matei looked satisfied by the answer and went back to studying the holodisplay. That was when Prophecy noticed another familiar name among the three Autumn-class cruisers. Behind the Berlin M Tursk was her sister Abstract Endurance and the last ship in the column, the Sejong II.

Prophecy gasped. "Sejong…" She read the name aloud slowly.

"Who?" Matei asked.

"My little sister. CA-836…" Another memory-the MAC fired one last time, striking the shielded prow of the oncoming alien battleship. For a moment it looked as if that hit had done it when the shields faded abruptly in that section alone, until a violet star appeared at the tip of the enemy's prow…

Prophecy averted her gaze. "At least they haven't forgotten her." she muttered to herself, hearing Matei take a step back. After pushing the memory aside, Prophecy looked back up and moved onto the destroyers. There were four of a class she didn't recognize: the Campo Grande II didn't surprise her, and the name Roland Freemont was familiar, albeit barely. The Tale of Igor and the Verdant Sumerian must've been new.

"I don't recognize those destroyers."

"That's the Cole-class," Bidwell responded behind her.

"No way…" Prophecy felt a mix of emotions at the idea that Admiral Cole was gone. On one hand, he had single handedly tripped up the Covenant during their advance through the outer Colonies. She had helped him do it more than once! The only mark against him in her mind was that he'd been horribly behind schedule in providing the support she was promised on her last mission…

"They really got Admiral Cole." She said to herself, still unsure she really believed the idea.

"No, he got them," Bidwell laughed. "You have to read up on that one." Several other marines repeated the suggestion.

After that, there were just 4 of the familiar Halberd-class destroyers, followed by a dozen short and stocky frigates Prophecy didn't recognize, 8 ships that looked larger than the Halberds but were nevertheless arranged with the frigates, 11 familiar Charon-class frigates, and a few more corvettes. A few of the frigates continued the renaming tradition, bearing vaguely familiar names like Coaticook II, Jorogumo II, Jalisco II, Ognevoy II, Hoste II, Tyger II, Nehenta Bay II, Ardent II, Inkallaqta II, and the Halberd-class destroyer Libra II.

By the time a few Orbital MAC platforms started popping up around the planet, the corvette and its escorts were finally coming into view of the waiting ships.

"They really rolled out the red carpet," Parker noted.

"Even better, sir, they're probably on high alert," Matei replied.

The Nakatsu II addressed the corvette once again. "Attention corvette, you're being ordered to take up position alongside the flagship Berlin M Tursk and await arrangements for transport. Be advised you've got an incoming transmission from the flagship." Sure enough, the familiar ping of an incoming hail entered the bridge. Hassa acknowledged, and the holographic reconstruction of the defense fleet melted away. In its place stood the life-size projection of a woman with the silver star of a Rear Admiral clearly visible on her dark gray uniform, which was highly out of place for someone as young as she looked.

"Officer on deck!" Maldini stammered, and Prophecy hastily stood at attention with the other marines. The Rear Admiral looked over both her shoulders at the surrounding marines with an unfazed expression.

"At ease, marines, and…" She eyed Prophecy suspiciously, "You." The word was uttered with barely-contained fascination.

"I'm Rear Admiral Liu Chongrun, commander of battlegroup Capella. As of now, you all report to me. I want all marines and civilians ready to be transferred to Tetrarch station within the hour for debriefing. After that, we'll transfer the civilians to the surface while the rest of you stand by for reassignment. As for your war prize, we'll be taking possession of it."

The Rear Admiral looked back to Prophecy again, letting her realize how young she was for a flag officer.

"I want you on my flagship in the next half-hour. I'm keeping Naval Intelligence satiated with data on those warlord fleets until I can get a better picture of you, and it's the safest place to lay low from any of their agents. I've made quite sure of that-"

Chongrun turned around, as if alerted by something out of earshot. Her expression turned dismal in seconds.

"Really?" She groaned while glaring off into the distance, looking far too visibly exasperated for someone of her rank. The reply went unheard, but it only made her silent furor more evident.

Turning towards Lieutenant Maldini, the Rear Admiral spoke cautiously, clearly trying to avoid letting her internal fulminations escape.

"I've just been informed that my superior wants to have you all transferred to the surface of Capella. He's also planning to arrange a debriefing with several specific individuals. Personally." She hissed out the last word.

"Who exactly is your superior, Ma'am?" Maldini asked, nervousness creeping into his voice.

"Admiral Lončarić, the overall commander of all UNSC forces in this system. You'll be receiving an encrypted transmission specifying which individuals he'd like to speak with first. Can you provide your own transport?"

"Yes Ma'am. We still have several undamaged pelicans at our disposal."

"Good. We'll assist with transferring the rest of you planetside. You'll also be receiving coordinates for your destination. The Admiral would prefer if the people he's specified arrive ASAP."

The transmission abruptly ceased, and the hologram of Capella reappeared in the Rear Admiral's place.

It was Matei who spoke up first. "Guessing he'll want to speak to me. Anyone know anything about that Admiral?"

"Liu Chongrun," Maldini answered, still gazing at where she'd stood. "The first sailor to get Admiral's stars who joined after the Covenant war. Missed it by a few months."

"Yeah, I could tell. And I'll bet someone on HIGHCOM doesn't appreciate that, which is why she's stuck out here." Matei answered."Some things never change." The other marines gave various concurrences.

Meanwhile, Hassa did indeed receive a burst transmission outlining who was to get down to the surface first.

"Interesting. He says we might as well load our pelicans with whoever else wants to come down too. Pretty informal."

Unsurprisingly, Prophecy and several members of D Company were on the list. Lieutenant Maldini led the way off the bridge, leaving Prophecy to watch Matei cautiously.

"Something the matter? Are you worried about having to meet with an Admiral in person?"

Prophecy pouted. "Me, worried?" She sniffed loudly. "You're the one who needs to take a shower."

The pair laughed and strolled out of the bridge.

—

Gunawan military base

Near Selakau city

Capella

1629 hours…

Oscar-16 settled on the landing pad with an abnormally sharp bump, the voice of Ensign "Aisle" Diaz rasping softly over the pelican's speakers, hinting at the various self-reassurances he was repeating to himself without any knowledge they were being broadcast for everyone inside to hear. Evidently he had gotten more drunk than he'd claimed in celebration of the successful boarding action, as his wobbly handling of the pelican on the way down had shown. Still, Matei and the other occupants of the troop bay had arrived on solid ground. Aisle could get blackout drunk in the cockpit for all the First sergeant cared; he wasn't the one who would be speaking with the most powerful man in the system. Beside him, Prophecy was already rising enthusiastically to her feet, oblivious to the more unnerved passengers around her. Most were from Matei's squad, though some of the assorted scavengers had also taken the chance to get off the covenant ship and back to civilization right away.

Everybody quickly approached the rear hatch, which swung open to reveal a pale blue sky obscured by various blocky military buildings in the base and skyscrapers further away. The two giant stars that formed one half of Alpha Aurigae hung high over the landing pads, one red, the other yellow. It was high noon on the colony, and the rush of warm air that filled the troop bay was tinged with the bitter scents of an airbase at work.

The reception for Oscar-16 and 2 other Pelicans was quite uninspired, consisting of a few H9 transport trucks and some intrigued onlookers. One of the drivers stood outside his vehicle and waved the group forward. "Did somebody order a limousine?" He called. "Come on, we'll take you to the command center."

The drive turned out to be towards a large compound that was already in view upon landing. Prophecy wouldn't have minded walking there, but she appreciated that the Admiral was being courteous towards them.

Soon she and the marines were being escorted through the command center by several unarmed marine MPs until they reached a large set of double doors. Their wooden construction, whether genuine or a facade, looked quite out of place with the rest of the building. A pair of armed sailors in blue dress uniforms stood guard on either side of the door. One sailor, a woman, dismissed the MPs with a wave of her hand and approached the group.

"The Admiral wants to speak with two of you personally," she explained, pointing to Prophecy and Matei specifically. "The rest of you can wait in the guest lounge until you're called in for a proper debriefing."

"Isn't that for diplomats and other Admirals?" Sergeant Barr asked, looking at the other marines who'd been called down. Most hadn't even bothered to remove their much-abused armor in the rush to get planetside, and those who only wore their fatigues were still covered in tears and burn marks.

"Oh, the guest lounge is for everybody, enlisted and officers," the PO1 answered, looking and sounding very amused at the question. "The Admiral said you deserve after what you've been through."

"That we do," Barr said, leading the way back down the hall.

The woman approached Matei and Prophecy as the doors swung open unannounced behind her.

"By the way, the Admiral's not expecting you to salute when you meet him. Just something he wanted to be clear about."

She stepped aside, revealing a large room decorated by all manner of objects and what appeared to be paintings lining its light gray walls, but no sign of the Admiral.

Prophecy and Matei stepped side by side into the room.

"So, do you need a heart or a brain?" She asked. Matei looked back at her uneasily.

"It's from an old film-" she started to explain, before giving up. "-nevermind."

The joke was soon forgotten when the pair split off to examine the room, which Prophecy now guessed was some kind of personal museum for Admiral Lončarić's career. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the paintings on either side of the wall, which depicted various UNSC carriers. All of them were depicted speeding through space in the backdrop of various eye-catching celestial phenomena such as moons, binary stars, nebulae, or asteroid fields, and none were in combat. Several different classes were featured: Noryangs, Epochs, A Phoenix-class colony ship ensconced in several layers of armor and extra hangars, even a Punic supercarrier, as well as at least two classes she didn't recognize. Several names were familiar to her: Basra, Archon of Winter, and Magellan for the Epochs, New Legaspi and Boxer for the Noryangs, and the Supercarrier Eridanus II. Carriers like All Under Heaven and Witness were new to her, though.

"Did he command all these ships?" Prophecy wondered aloud.

"He definitely served aboard all of them, but not as Captain," Matei advised, coming up alongside her and pointing towards a nearby display case containing a chrome model of a Longsword fighter. Prophecy slowly realized that the entire room was full of Longsword-related memorabilia: models of Longswords, propaganda posters featuring Longswords, paintings of Longswords held in display cases rather than lining the wall, and several different Longsword parts in various states of disrepair. There were also various pieces of ordinance including autocannon rounds, a Moray mine, and an AGSM missile.

Prophecy wanted to examine it all, but she didn't want to test their host's patience, leading the way towards the next set of wooden double doors at the other end of the little museum. The doors opened automatically to reveal a large office that was purely business compared to the previous room; there were no mementos or paintings whatsoever.

Standing in front of a desk and between two chairs was a tall, brown-haired man in a gray service uniform whose blue eyes lit up at the sight of the pair.

"Thank you for getting down here so quickly. I'm guessing my subordinate might not have properly introduced me. Toljen Lončarić, at your service."

The Admiral stepped forward and gave Prophecy a handshake that was firm, but also rather hasty. "I'm honored to see you…again." he winked. "We have much to discuss."

Lončarić seemed far more interested in Matei, turning towards him and exchanging a long handshake. "And you, First Sergeant, I must say it's a pleasure to finally meet a living legend such as yourself in person."

Matei stiffened at the description. "I think you have the wrong guy, sir. I just got a few free promotions dropped into my lap."

The Admiral released his hand and smiled broadly. "Don't be so humble. It's not every day I get to meet another veteran who served all the way back in 2526. There simply weren't very many of us left before Mr. Kulul's fleet found the Spirit of Fire."

"Us…?" Matei repeated, studying Lončarić carefully. Prophecy also looked over the Admiral, who seemed unfazed by their combined confusion. As far as she could tell he was passing through middle age, his brown hair cut short but bereft of any gray strands.

"I don't think you understand how much time Naval aviators had to spend in cryo and slipspace during the war, particularly towards the end when we had so few carriers," he explained, still smiling despite his increasingly solemn tone. "Admiral Cole experienced a similar 'side-stepping' of time before his death at Psi Serpentis, you know. Unfortunately, I missed that particular battle, but now look at me: I'm practically in his shoes. Though I'm more experienced with starfighters, not starships."

Prophecy wasn't sure how to feel about that, though she realized too late that the Admiral had noticed judging by his amused expression. She quickly tried to explain herself.

"So it's true? Admiral Cole really died?"

"At Psi Serpentis, yes," The Admiral replied with a smirk, his true meaning indecipherable.

"But we'd be getting too far ahead of ourselves if we started talking about 2543. No, it's the years all three of us know of that interest me, and that's why I asked you to come down here."

He turned around and retrieved a large glass bottle from his desk. "Would you like some Capellan Vodka?" He offered.

"No thanks, having a drunk pilot was more than enough for today," Matei explained.

"I know the feeling," Lončarić laughed, turning towards Prophecy. "What about you? Have you found out if you can get drunk yet?"

"Not yet," Prophecy grinned sheepishly and held her hands up. "But, well, I'm surprised you're so quick to accept me for what I am."

"I had plenty of time to study that data portfolio your ship sent my way," Lončarić shrugged, pouring himself a glass. "I'd say you're a little too…esoteric…for an ONI secret weapon, wouldn't you? Call it Occam's razor." He paused to down his glass in one shot, then continued.

"Fate works in strange ways. Take me, for instance. I never thought my time in the Navy would end in the same system where it started."

That got Matei's attention. "You were at the Origami Asteroid Field with Admiral Cole?"

"That's right, it was my first time in combat." He refilled his glass. "And where were you two back then?"

"I think I just arrived at Harvest after getting repaired and refitted," Prophecy explained.

"And I was already on Harvest," Matei added. "You should have our records, right?"

The Admiral halted just before he took another sip. "That's correct, I have everything I need to know about you right here-" he tapped on his desk, summoning a miniature hologram of a ghostly figure wearing a black cloak. "Thanks to Huginn, my personal AI assistant. But where's the fun in having him list off a bunch of dates and statistics?"

The AI crossed his arms wordlessly and looked up at the Admiral, face hidden beneath his unnaturally dark hood.

"What? You know I'm right." Holding off on a drink yet again, Lončarić turned back towards the pair.

"Anyway, I suspect you two weren't given the rundown on what happened here back in October '26."

Matei answered first. "I remember the basics: the Covenant attacked the system, but the Navy pushed them back. I never cared enough to research it after I got off the Spirit of Fire."

Prophecy sifted through her memories for a few moments, hoping her crew had something illuminating for her, but nothing arrived.

"I only have whispers and rumors," she frowned. "I can't remember other people's battles."

"We'll have to examine the intricacies of your memory sooner or later. For now, allow me to tell you my side of the story. I was assigned to the Archon of Winter after graduating from pilot training early. Wartime expediency, obviously, but I still let it get to my head…"

October 21st, 2526

Epoch-class heavy carrier UNSC Archon of Winter

Outside the Origami Asteroid field, Alpha Aurigae system…

Despite being so crowded that all the seats had been taken, the briefing room aboard the Archon Of Winter remained mostly silent, filled with a nervous aura from the many novice pilots awaiting an explanation of what their first mission would entail. It was into this tense atmosphere that Ensign Toljen Lončarić stepped slowly through, even though he had already given up hope of finding a seat. The walls themselves were already out of sight, replaced by a solid line of green from the many pilots dressed in flight suits. Dodging between seated pilots letting their heads lean back and the carelessly extended feet of their standing counterparts, Toljen reached a gap between two of the more lanky members of the audience: a blonde woman with an artificial tan, and a green-eyed man with a scar running up his bald head. Neither of them were from his own unit, which meant they must've been some of the new transfers currently crowding the room. There still wasn't enough space to stand between the two, but he could at least come to a stop right in front of them without being too intrusive.

Just as the young pilot thought he could relax just a little now that he'd found a place to stand still, the lights in the room began to dim. Relieved that he'd narrowly avoided being late, Toljen watched the holoprojector on the other end of the room flash to life, instantly resolving into the life-sized visage of a man wearing obsolete body armor, a boonie hat, and face paint. Rain fell from out of nowhere onto him and various plants that surrounded him. The whole scene served as the avatar of Jeremiah, the Smart AI assigned to the Archon of Winter.

Although Jeremiah's voice was tainted by exhaustion and shivers that coursed through his green-tinted body, the attitude of the room immediately grew serious when he spoke. Toljen and the others were used to the AI's unsettled tone-it was just another aspect of his chosen avatar as a participant in the Rainforest wars.

"Alright guys, 3rd fleet just finished reorganizing after exiting slipspace. It's time we went over the plan one more time."

Toljen nodded at the reminder of how many ships were involved in this operation. Scuttlebutt said this was the single largest wartime assembly of UNSC ships in history. From what the rookie pilot knew of astronavigation, that meant the fleet and its component battlegroups would need a long time to reform between the sheer size of the force and the usual anomalies associated with slipspace travel. Indeed, he and the others had been brought out of cryo 6 hours before they were supposed to exit slipspace according to the plan, only to wind up being dismissed to get some sleep as the wait slipped towards a full 24 hours instead. As he did the math, the pilot knew deep down that the enemy would have plenty of time to catch wind of the interdimensional racket all the fleet's ships were making as they came out of slipspace, but he wasn't worried. The further in advance they knew what was coming their way, the more time they'd be forced to sit there and sweat, he decided. Unless of course, they were smart enough to turn tail and run.

"On August 16th, a Covenant fleet was detected on the edge of the Tiānyuàn system," Jeremiah went on, his avatar shrinking as the holoprojector displayed a map of the star system in question, zooming in on a planet marked "GUANGXI".

"This is the same system where a Covenant raiding force arrived on April 4th and caught two of our battlegroups in the middle of a training exercise. We lost two Orion-class carriers and a Marathon-class cruiser in that battle, as well as several frigates and destroyers. The aliens lost 4 ships in exchange." The distinctive silhouettes of two carriers labeled "Matto Grosso" and "Richmond Turner" appeared next to the colony, and the blonde woman on Toljen's right groaned faintly at the recounting.

"Unlike that battle, the enemy fleet didn't attempt to rush our defenses. All they did was destroy several space stations in orbit over Guangxi and run off into slipspace. Over the next month these guys hopped through a few different star systems." The holodisplay seemed to zoom out in accordance with Jeremiah's words, showing a star map with a led line connecting one star after another. From the Tiānyuàn system, the red trail passed through stars like Iota Persei, Theta Persei, and Lambda Aurigae before finally reaching Alpha Aurigae, where he and the other pilots had been waiting impatiently up until recently. "Every time they found one of our colonies, they did the same thing: wreck the orbital infrastructure, chase down a few cargo haulers, maybe fire a few plasma torpedoes at the cities. That's also what happened when they reached this system, with one difference: they didn't run off." The display shifted to a scaled-down map of the Alpha Aurigae system. "After they wrecked everything larger than a comms satellite on Cappella, the fleet headed over to the gas giant Origami and took up position near the trojans that share its orbit. We think they were trying to hide. As you can guess, it's not working," Jeremiah went on, pointing to the hologram of an ONI Prowler labeled "Ghost Laird" that now dominated the screen. "We've had Prowlers like this tracking the aliens ever since they arrived at Guangxi: laying down beacons, recording trajectories, jumping to other systems to spread the word, that sort of thing. This one just managed to arrive in-system before the Covenant did, purely by chance, and it also relayed data about the composition of the enemy fleet to Admiral Cole's rally point in deep space. Thanks to that Prowler, we can now confirm there are 12 Covenant ships currently waiting inside that asteroid field."

12 ships. Toljen made sure to repeat the number in his head instead of out loud. That was what everyone had gotten so bent out of shape about? True, the aliens appeared to have adopted a new approach compared to what he'd learned about them in the various crash courses incorporated into his training, but this was clearing just a raiding force. He didn't see why Admiral Cole, the "hero of Harvest", needed to turn his attention towards a threat like this, especially while Harvest remained contested.

Jeremiah's continued explanation somewhat explained the true threat of the enemy fleet.

"Three of the enemy ships have been confidently identified as a class tentatively designated CAS by Naval Intelligence." A helpful size comparison appeared depicting the silhouette of that particular Covenant ship above that of an Epoch-class carrier, which was only half the size of the alien ship. Toljen gasped at the sight. This was his first proper frame of reference for how big the alien ships were, and he didn't like it.

"The CAS-class has previously been sighted at Etalan IV, Biko, Bliss, Rensselaer, Mesra, and Paramirim serving in the role of an assault carrier. On none of those occasions has it been directly engaged by UNSC forces. All we know for sure is that you can expect dense fighter opposition, which is why we've adjusted our own strike wings accordingly. This is a pure space op, we're not going to be throwing pelicans at those carriers."

A smart decision, Toljen decided. Epoch-class carriers like the Archon usually carried 3 dozen pelicans and 800 marines for ground ops, which would be pure dead weight in a battle like this.

Jeremiah went on to outline the battle plan as dozens of miniature ships appeared behind him and moved slowly towards the hologram of Origami from a top-down view.

"3rd fleet consists of 117 ships divided into 5 battlegroups: Battlegroup Alpha, led by Cole's flagship Everest, Battlegroup Foxtrot, led by the assault carrier Robert Barrow, battlegroup November, led by the Spruance, Battlegroup Sierra, led by the Chosin, and Battlegroup Uniform, led by our ship."

Labels for each of the battlegroups appeared on the holodisplay, showing Archon's sisters Chosin and Spruance on the left flank, Cole's flagship in the center, Barrow on the right, and their own task force holding the right flank. The screen quickly honed in on Battlegroup Uniform, which was a fearsome array of ships by itself. The Archon was flanked by two old Noryang light carriers, the Ise and the Belleau Wood, while the Marathon-class cruiser Io led a screening force consisting of the Halcyon-class cruisers Toulouse and Tarawa, the Vulcan-class cruisers Manawanui and Aeoterota, and the old cruiser Melbourne. Next there were the even older Diligence-class destroyers Cataphract, Winged Hussar, and Druzhina. The rest of their screen was composed of the Charon-class frigates Ognevoy, Wasp, Mosasaurus, and Temecula, and the Stalwart-class frigates Aomori, Journeyman, Charles Mcvay 3rd, Moa, Steadfast, and Meriwether Lewis.

Whatever concern he'd felt about the size of the enemy carriers was immediately dispelled from Toljen's mind. This really was the largest UNSC warfleet ever assembled, larger even than the grand total of 75 he'd heard bandied about before. Admiral Cole had most likely scraped together some last-minute reinforcements before making the jump to Alpha Aurigae, and the pilot could guess why. The whole operation was a show of force. Admiral Cole's fleet was supposed to be the anvil that fell upon the upstart alien raiders and made an example out of them, a victory that would no doubt be publicized across human space. All Toljen had to do was shoot down at least 5 alien fighters and he was guaranteed to become a "hometown hero" back on Jericho VII, just like the countless other sailors who would earn their time in the limelight for partaking in this curbstomp of a battle. The idea filled him with excitement. Fortunately, Jeremiah was finally wrapping the briefing, outlining how the fleet's augmented fighter groups would be arranged to first meet the enemy's strikes and then go on the offensive. But Toljen didn't need to know all the details, he simply needed to stay in formation with his own squadron and respond to orders from there. So he continued to envision how he'd knock down enemy fighters until the pilots were finally dismissed, racing through the adjacent corridor towards the hangars that would send him roaring down a launch catapult towards the outnumbered enemy fleet.

—

"Strike mission?"

The first snag in Toljen's fantasy reared its ugly head when he beheld the loadout of his C712 Longsword. Not only were its external hardpoints bristling with smart bombs, but the internal launch tubes that usually stored ASGM missiles were now loaded with the same munitions according to the data pad given to him by a smug Navy NCO.

"Didn't you pay attention to the briefing?" the older woman asked, not even bothering to address him as 'sir'. The pilot knew he should've reminded her of the chain of command, but her domineering attitude and heavier build intimidated him too much. "Thunder wing is on strike duty, our new friends in Shockwave wing are doing CAP in Baselard fighters."

This loadout would seriously hamper Toljen's hopes of becoming an Ace in a day. Without guided missiles, he'd have to rely on his Longsword's autocannons. Worse, diverting to engage enemy fighters would provoke the wrath of his superiors, particularly Commander McNorton, the overall leader of the Archon of Winter's Longword complement.

Momentarily despondent, Toljen found a measure of relief in the next surprise: he had a new partner on this mission. The C712 longsword was crewed by a pilot and a sensor operator, the latter role being served by Petty Officer 3rd class Daleburn until today. His replacement was a tall man with hazel eyes and a buzzcut who immediately eyed the ensign with suspicion.

"I'm George Lapradelle from Shockwave wing, I'm your navigator for this mission, which I'm guessing you didn't catch during the brief given how you ran off here without me."

Toljen vaguely recalled Jeremiah mentioning something about personnel exchanges with the new squadrons, but he'd been too caught up in fantasizing to pay close enough attention. Ignoring the muffled laugh of the nearby NCO, the pilot resolved to put his best foot forward.

"I take it you've heard of me?" Toljen asked, stepping forward and extending a hand. Lapradelle didn't respond in kind, instead putting on his helmet.

"Yeah, your squadmates had some choice words about you."

"Hey, if you need to make the Kessel run in 12 parsecs, I'm your guy." Toljen replied with a grin, crossing his arms triumphantly.

Lapradelle was not amused. "You're not helping your case here."

"They're just mad because numbers don't lie. I didn't get to 3rd place on the simulation scoreboard by cheating!" Toljen shot back as he climbed up the rear hatch of the Longsword. His new co-pilot followed close behind, the heavy steps of a condemned man ringing out on the metal floor.

"Those sims are worthless, they don't match up with real data on covenant shields at all."

Toljen strapped in and activated his fighter's engines, then gave his reply.

"It's a military-grade simulation, not a VR game, everything else is so real you could taste it. Who cares if the shields don't match up, we know you gotta stay on target for a few extra seconds."

"There's more to it than that," Lapradelle protested over the metallic hum of fighters all across the hangar being pulled by electromagnetic catapults into the airlocks that would send them hurtling through launch tubes into the vacuum of space. "Your sims don't have enough data to fully replicate Covenant fighter doctrine either."

Toljen shrugged. "Then we learn the hard way, those are the breaks-"

He was cut off when doors to the airlock swung open ahead of the two pilots, the sudden snap of the catapult as it shoved their Longsword forward distracting both of them. Red lights snapped on within the confines of the airlock, and Commander McNorton's nonchalant voice resounded on squadcomm a moment later.

"Alpha squadron, status report."

A series of 12 affirmatives resounded over squadcomm, including Toljen's own response of "Thunder A-3, all systems green as grass." The pilot leaned back into his seat, feeling his fighter shudder for just a moment beneath him before the familiar notification that atmosphere was being vented from the airlock appeared both on his helmet's HUD and the cockpit's holodisplay in front of him. Toljen took a deep breath of stale air and grasped the control yoke, half-expecting some nagging advice from his new sensor operator. George remained silent, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

More faint metallic rumblings filled the Longsword, accompanied by the voice of the carrier's fighter director on squadcomm.

"All tubes vented."

A hint of excitement was evident in the woman's voice, emblematic of the widespread anticipation that had filled the crew as the prospect of their first real fight grew nearer.

"Bay doors opening. Shockwave Alpha and Thunder Alpha squadrons, prepare for launch."

Even the fusion engines behind Toljen and George seemed to hum more intensely, though the pilot knew better than to touch the throttle while he was still on the catapult.

"Launch tubes opening."

The airlock slid open immediately, emerald lights filling the tight confines and lining the way to the stars beyond. "Danger zone, here we come," Toljen started to tease his co-pilot.

"Launch tubes engaging…now!"

The sudden acceleration nearly sent the pilots teeth snapping into each other before he was done speaking. Fortunately, he managed to shut his mouth properly as the launch catapult thrust his longsword down the tube and into space. Training kicked in, causing him to nudge the accelerator forward without thinking to keep pace with the half-dozen Longswords around him while several arrowhead-shaped Baselard interceptors shot into view and out of sight overhead in the direction of several clumps of white specks marked on his hud as some of the Charon-class frigates assigned to Battlegroup uniform. The names Temecula, Wasp, and Ognevoy hovered over 3 points in space for a few moments before they were replaced by less intrusive markers. Before he could try to spot Origami or the enemy fleet, the familiar voice of a superior drew his attention.

"Alpha squadron, clear the way for Beta Squadron then prepare to assume formation after they launch," McNorton ordered, and Toljen thoughtlessly followed suit in accordance with the new waypoints appearing on his HUD that would guide his squadron on their roundabout route. All the while, he felt his excitement rise to previously incomprehensible heights within his chest. The moment of truth awaited. Either the Covenant would flee, or they would stand their ground and be buried under an avalanche of missiles, MAC rounds, and bombs. He hoped they would seek the latter. They had remained in the system long enough for the Navy to organize a response when they could easily have run off, after all. Perhaps this outcome was part of the plan: divert UNSC ships to a faraway corner of space when they should've been sent to reinforce the ongoing siege of Harvest. In that case, the aliens were about to get much more than what they bargained for.

Suddenly numerous warnings appeared all over the cockpit, followed by a few confused responses on squadcomm.

"What's going on?" Toljen asked Lapradelle, trusting the sensor tech to do his job as he saw several of his squadmates start to waver and lag behind.

"We're getting emergency pings from all over the fleet. Apparently the Covenant aren't waiting for us to come to them anymore." The NCO's demeanor remained hidden beneath his helmet, but his shaken tone felt highly out of place at a time when not even a shot had been fired.

Commander McNorton spoke up moments later.

"Thunder, Shockwave, be advised, Archon is telling me that the Covenant fleet has cleared the asteroid field and is advancing towards us. We've got a whole swarm of fighters inbound."

Toljen was amazed. "They're coming right at us? But we outnumber them ten to one!"

"Not quite, sir," Lapradelle corrected. "If what I'm picking up on the scanner is true, each of those Assault carriers must've launched at least 250 fighters each, and the smaller vessels are launching plenty too."

Sure enough, the Commander continued advising the pilots over squadcomm. "Thunder wing, I hold position above the Archon while Shockwave wing sends everything to engage those fighters. I repeat, I want Alpha, Beta, and Charlie squads from Shockwave wing to assist in intercepting those fighters now."

Even as new waypoints filled Toljen's hud, more red-shaded alerts flashed urgently around them.

"Too late, they're closing in too fast," Thunder B-9 warned.

"Who is?" Toljen joined in and asked on squadcomm.

"The ships, the fighters, all of them! It's like they're trying to reach the speed of light!" The other man shouted back.

"Cut the chatter," McNorton warned, but it was too late. Squadcomm quickly grew crowded with pilots giving their own commentary.

"They must have 2000 fighters out there," Thunder A-6 observed.

"Bring them on!" Shockwave A-10 shouted.

"That's the spirit," Toljen shouted, causing Lapradelle to jerk forward in shock. "Let's kick E.T,'s ass!" Several other pilots called out their agreement with the sentiment. Instead of admonishing them, McNorton and the other squadron leaders gave out new orders.

"All fighters, break formation and prepare to meet the enemy," Thunder A-1 announced, followed right after by the disappearance of all waypoints on Toljen's hud. The pilot responded without thinking, swinging his Longsword around to face the growing mass of violet-tinged stars filling the vacuum, dozens of Nandao and Baselard fighters doing the same ahead of him. More warning indicators on his fighter's HUD indicated that several frigates in the battlegroup's screen and across the fleet had already started launching their Streak anti-fighter missiles, the fast-moving ordinance passing into view like shooting stars against the night sky.

"This is where the fun begins," He declared, causing Lapradelle to groan.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm dead serious," he turned to the sensor operator and winked under his helmet before recalling something important.

"Can't believe I almost forgot this!" Toljen retrieved a data crystal from one of the pockets of his flight suit and inserted it into a waiting slot on one of the instrument panels.

Just as the fighters ahead of him began to launch their first volleys of missiles, the Longsword's speakers snapped to life with a rising chorus of archaic instruments.

Bgm

/watch?v=2pod_Rc5mOY

"Are you-wait, is this being broadcast on Squadcomm? Do you know how many regs you're breaking-" Lapradelle started to protest before Toljen yanked the Longsword upwards and accelerated towards a cluster of thin-winged alien fighters with two protruding cannons on their pill-shaped hulls, the voices of Alpha squadron bleeding together in his ears. The enemy fighters started to disperse too late, and he easily lined up on one near the right end of the gaggle. A short burst of the Longsword's 8 50mm cannons erased one of its wings, sending the fighter rolling wildly through space.

"That's one!" Toljen shouted, pulling the yoke up to try and pass through the now-dissipating formation. He almost inverted the longsword before he got onto another fighter's tail, catching a glimpse of the fleet beyond. Hundreds of new stars twinkled in space, joined by a few flashes of lightning at certain spots. Ignoring the implications, he lined up on the next fighter and fired again, resulting in a satisfying explosion of eerie blue fire and lightning.

"Two!" He yelled triumphantly, inverting his fighter and looking for more contacts to dive down on. The nearest contact on his HUD was currently in a joust with one of his squadmates. Thunder A-8 opened fire at long range, 8 streams of tracers flying towards the target at an eerily slow speed in the vacuum. When it looked like they were about to hit, the teardrop-shaped fighter was suddenly illuminated by a glowing blue bubble. Thunder A-8 attempted to pull away from the shielded fighter, but the enemy was too quick, matching the Longsword's movements and firing a stream of large plasma bolts that blew through its underside and resulted in a massive explosion when the plasma touched off the bombs stored within.

Toljen was already diving towards the enemy fighter before his squadmate's violent end had dissipated into atoms, calmly unloading a long burst of 50mm fire into the large target. Shields flared for a few moments before dying out, allowing the rounds to sever the twin tails that extended on either side of the alien craft's engine. Inertia carried the fighter onwards for a few seconds before it began tumbling wildly through the vacuum.

A frantic instrumental roared in Toljen's ears over the shouts of his remaining squadmates.

"Hey, you know those shields you warned me about?"

Lapradelle glanced frantically towards him. "They were already weakened before you started shooting!" He shouted, the last word turning into a yell when Toljen swung the Longsword around again.

Toljen shot down another two of the unshielded light fighters, constantly bugging Lapradelle to help him find the nearest target. Old music from his personal playlist continued to blare defiantly in the cockpit, drowning out the chatter of sitreps and satisfied kill claims from the other pilots. Every so often he would see a new star appear in the vacuum and vanish just as quickly in the distance, only for him to turn away in search of a target before his HUD could identify the source.

He had just shot down another light fighter when he realized that he could see the distant outlines of the Covenant fleet after turning away, aided by waypoints on his HUD. Clouds of blue and purple sparks danced around the gleaming hulls of the enemy vessels.

"Looks like they're launching another wave of fighters," he noted, mostly to himself.

"Those aren't fighters, those are their plasma torpedoes. Did you skip every briefing about the Covenant and their technology?"

"I only need the flight sims," Toljen countered, drawing a groan from Lapradelle before Jeremiah's voice caught the pair's attention.

"Admiral Cole has ordered all attack craft to hit the Covenant ships. Thunder wing, form up and close with the enemy fleet immediately. Only attack targets that are confirmed to have lost their shielding."

Toljen kept on his current heading, seeing several of his squadmates pull into a loose formation on either side of him wordlessly. He waited several more seconds for the rest of Alpha squad to regroup, taking solace in the dozens of other Longswords that came into view above him when it became clear that only A-4, A-6, A-7, and A-10 were joining the attack. He guessed that the others besides A-8 were out of position and regrouping elsewhere.

The enemy ships quickly grew in size ahead of him, and as he examined their rounded purple hulls Toljen could see one of them absorb what seemed like a dozen MAC rounds at once. Shimmering blue shields outlined its wobbling course for a second before countless lightning strikes broke through and riddled the ship with holes. For another moment, the perforated hull began to shatter like glass until the ship's reactor overloaded, creating a sapphire supernova that lit up the void for several long moments.

When the blast cleared, the Longsword's hud showed 9 Covenant ships remaining, including all three supercarriers. The massive ships led the charge towards the human fleet, firing another volley of mesmerizing plasma torpedoes in unison. More MAC rounds flashed in the vacuum, now concentrated on the supercarrier-sized ships. The lead carrier absorbed the same volley that had destroyed its smaller escort without even slowing down, though another volley followed right after. This time, the shields flared proudly for several seconds as if caught in limbo before vanishing. Although the carrier's hull remained unblemished, that changed quickly as light MAC rounds began to needle its massive prow.

"Go for the leader!" Someone Toljen didn't recognize ordered, and all around him Longswords shifted as if pulled by an ocean current. Already, Toljen could see pin-sized beams of light shooting out from all over the Covenant ships to chase after bombers that had reached them earlier. They tracked their targets unerringly, frequently firing a dozen at a time to bring down one Longsword.

Several new warnings flashed on Toljen's hud, indicating that he and the other Longswords were in the way of an incoming missile volley. Several volleys, in fact, adding up to thousands of Archer and Longbow missiles all displayed on a minimap that appeared on the fighter's HUD. Finally, he noticed that Lapradelle hadn't been alerting him of all this like he should've. The man sat frozen next to him, staring up at the oncoming alien carriers without saying a word.

"Let's clear a path for those missiles," he yelled, "follow me!"

He dove downward towards the lead ship, and the sudden motion knocked Lapradelle out of his stupor.

"What are you doing?!"

"Just track the energy readings on those lasers and throw down some targets for me. We need to get in nice and close…"

He accelerated forward until the silver bow of the covenant carrier filled his field of view, then slowly pulled up so he could skim the "neck" of the huge ship. Pink beams flashed ahead of him then vanished just as quickly.

"A-4 here, there's too many-" the woman's voice was cut off in a burst of static. Toljen barely noticed, skirting between alien point-defense beams to seek shelter in the canyon-like indentation that ran down the spine of the alien ship. Above him, he caught a glimpse of another Covenant ship with a narrow neck connecting its teardrop-shaped fore section to a winged engine block being battered off course by several MAC rounds hitting in rapid succession, then concentrated on the veritable field of waypoints marking pulse laser batteries ahead of him. He nudged the yoke slightly towards one cluster of pulse lasers and shouted the first thing that came into his mind.

"I have you now!"

He tapped a button on his control stick and felt the Longsword shiver around him as internal and external racks unleashed their ordinance. Letting the automated guidance systems of the smart bombs do the rest, he pulled away to the right through a stubborn net of pink lasers. No Covenant ships greeted him on his way out, indicating that the ones he'd seen on this side had been destroyed.

"Missiles are breaking through," Lapradelle announced through exhausted breaths, "Oof, I think Everest hit that one on the chin just now…"

As the sensor operator continued to give a blow-by-blow account of the fleet's missile volley, Toljen spotted a new warning signal of his HUD. Tapping the holodisplay, he was rewarded with a barely-audible transmission.

"Mayday, this is UNSC Amori and the UNSC Journeyman, we've been immobilized by enemy plasma torpedoes and we've detected numerous enemy fighters inbound. We cannot bring our autocannons to bear and our missile pods are empty or disabled. Anyone who can hear us, get these fighters off our backs!"

Toljen recognized those frigates as part of Battlegroup Uniform's screening force, and sent the Longsword lurching towards top speed to reach their displayed coordinates.

"Shouldn't the rest of the battlegroup be enough to help them out?" Lapradelle protested, but Toljen didn't listen.

"Become an Ace, destroy a missile defense battery, and rescue a whole ship full of people? This day keeps getting better and better!"

He quickly identified the enemy fighters by their now-distinctive "tails" of excess energy that burned in the wake of their propulsion systems. A quartet of the light fighters were closing on the crippled ships' position in a perfect line. The two Stalwart-class frigates were barely discernible from where he was approaching, but the way their familiar silhouettes writhed in the vacuum at abnormal angles made them easier to spot. He found it odd that the enemy was advancing so blithely when there should've been numerous threats flying their way, but it was too convenient to mull over for long. Instead of pondering, he lined up a shot on the left-hand fighter and squeezed off a burst. The light craft was sent spinning end over end bleeding violet flames before the other three started to break off the attack. He shot down the second craft easily, severing its cannons and perforating its cockpit while it tried to pull up. The third fighter took a few more seconds to track before he sent a short burst of 50mm rounds straight through its fuselage, noting that it seemed too compact for a pilot to sit down in.

The Longsword's sensors alerted him to the final fighter's trajectory ahead and to his left, but the alien pilot broke off instead of taking the shot. Toljen spent another minute chasing the wiley pilot before settling for taking a shot that barely clipped one of its wings, giving him just enough time to finish the fighter off as the pilot tried to regain control.

"Up high!" Lapradelle yelped, and Toljen realized why the alien fighter had been messing with him. Two contacts identified as the shielded fighters were diving on the frigates, which no doubt carried weapons that were more damaging than the ones used by those slim light fighters.

The ensuing duel was only feasible because Toljen managed to shoot down one of the heavy fighters while it was fixated on the Aomori. After that, he lost track of the time in between harassing the other fighter and heeding the calls for help from the surviving bridge crew on both frigates each time another band of alien fighters tried to attack.

He had just shot down a light fighter that was trying to ram the Journeyman after losing a wing when he finally lost his patience.

"I've been swatting these bugs for 15 minutes and the frigates still have their distress beacons running, why isn't anyone giving us a hand?"

Lapradelle tapped him on the shoulder and swept his hand across the canopy. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Do you see anyone who looks like they can help out?"

Toljen looked out into the empty vacuum, attempting to spot whatever his partner was referring to. Then he realized that was exactly what the other man was referring to.

"Hey…where is everyone?"

He hailed one of the frigates. "Hey commander, uh, sir, of the Aomori, do you know where Battlegroup Uniform ran off to?"

The man who responded sounded too young to be the frigate's commander officer.

"No dice, Thunder A-3. We kind of…lost track of things after that plasma torpedo hit. It's a miracle we still have life support. We're not detecting any hostile signatures, though. I think it's safe for you to take a look around."

"Wait," Lapradelle interrupted. "The Archon of Winter is coming over on our right."

Toljen gently turned the Longsword in the indicated direction and swore at the scene before him. The carrier he'd called his home was a mess. The slanted armor plating that extended from either side of the hull had been torn away on the port side, taking one of the carrier's Breakwater coilgun turrets with it. Getting close, he could see that the gash extended into the portside hangar doors, exposing several familiar decks to the vacuum of space. Looking around, he realized the carrier might've been in the best shape out of the battlegroup. Several ships drifted listlessly through space behind it: IFF tags marked a depessing gray. There was the Halcyon cruiser Tarawa, a hole burned through her hull amidships. The Tenacious-class cruiser Melbourne lay nearby, two halves drifting further away from each other by the second. An engine block marked "Wasp" floated past a severed MAC gun marked "Ognevoy", while the frigate Charles McVay 3rd spun end over end.

Those that could move under their own power huddled together as if trying to share their body heat. The cruiser Toulouse had a similar-sized hole to the Tarawa, but not all the way through. The Stalwart-class frigates Steadfast and Moa had both come up alongside it to deploy damage control crews despite their hulls being covered with scorch marks and blackened pits. The cruiser Io and the ancient destroyer Winged Hussar were doing the opposite, both attempting to rescue surviving sailors from the gutted Vulcan-class cruiser Manawanui, and the frigate Mosasaurus was doing the same for her sister Temecula. Only the Stalwart-class frigate Meriwether Lewis remained separate from the lifeless hulks and the damaged ships, keeping watch high above the remnants of the battlegroup. The Cataphract was nowhere to be found. Then the pilot noticed something else.

"George, what happened to the Ise and the Belleau wood?"

The NCO undid his safety harness and huddled meekly over his sensor consoles.

"Transponder signals coming in now…" he muttered. "I'm tracking…thirty-seven missing IFF tags."

"Did you say thirteen settled?"

"You know exactly what I said, sir," the other man snapped back. "I'm getting confirmation from Jeremiah now. We lost 37 ships."

Toljen stared wordlessly at the disorder strewn about in front of him, a scene that was certainly playing out across the entire fleet. Slowly but surely, the names of the missing ships appeared on the holodisplay:

Laffey, Shasta, and Tang, 3 Marathon-class cruisers…

Phuket, Apsaras, Sucre, and Foshan, 4 Paris-class heavy frigates…

9 more light frigates…

Phanagoria, another Halcyon…

Strabo, an Able-class destroyer that had been part of Battlegroup X-ray during the very first encounter with the aliens…

All the while, countless distress beacons illuminated the battleline: the cruiser Chares, the frigate Commonwealth, the destroyer Kayenta, and dozens of others.

Suddenly, becoming an Ace didn't feel so satisfying anymore.

—

Matei had to sit down in the left-hand chair and let the full weight of the Admiral's story settle within him. Finally, the vague nature of everything he'd heard about the Covenant attack on Alpha Aurigae made sense. What he hadn't heard anything about were Covenant fleets raiding the stars adjacent to that system in the preceding months.

He looked up at Admiral Lončarić, who now leaned against his desk with a crestfallen smile. The older (though not by much in terms of actual birth dates) man, who had so proudly resisted the urge to take a shot during his recounting of the battle, finally took another sip and looked at the pair. When he finally spoke, it was with immense exhaustion.

"37 ships. That was the highest number of warships we'd lost in one engagement with the Covenant thus far. Excluding Biko, that is, but the local defense fleet bore the brunt of the losses in that fight."

Matei caught Prophecy wincing at the reference to Biko, tightening her grip on the other chair's armrest but continuing to stand upright. Her turquoise eyes wandered indecisively around the room.

The Admiral studied his glass in contemplation, not waiting for one of them to interject before he continued.

"37 could've easily been 39 if it weren't for me. All because I wanted a medal or two for saving those two frigates…" He downed another glass. "Most of the time, when a plasma torpedo hits a frigate in the right place…there's not much left to salvage, let alone rescue. A few others were recoverable, but on the inside…" he stared towards the door to his office, and Matei realized he wasn't just recalling scenes from Alpha Aurigae in that moment.

"I don't think the fleet had more than 50 ships in fighting shape when the last of those carriers was finally smothered by a dozen nukes," he went on, pouring out another glass. "We're still not entirely sure what that Covenant fleet was up to. They seem to have run off without telling their bosses according to surviving records. Whatever they were planning, their friends got something useful out of it: Admiral Cole out of position, and some of our most experienced ships damaged or destroyed."

"And one month later, the Covenant launched their first big push to take Harvest." Matei finished for the Admiral.

"That's right. If it weren't for the bifrost, we would've been routed completely. Of course, you weren't there for the bifrost sieges."

"No, I was on Galodew with her-" he pointed towards Prophecy. "-ah, well, technically not 'with' her since she was in orbit, but, you know…"

"I understand," Lončarić smirked. "Though I'm not familiar with that particular battle. I was at Una-Sana with Admiral Cole at the time. I do remember the Galodew Emancipation, though."

"They were there too, alright, but they had a change of heart right before the Covenant showed up in force. I don't think they were much help. Where it really mattered, I mean. Prophecy should know the details of what happened up in space."

He looked towards the woman, who'd stopped eyeing random parts of the room and instead watched the Admiral with her bespectacled eyes.

"Sir, before we talk about Galodew, I need to ask you some questions about Aomori."

The Admiral set his glass down and eyed the cruiser girl curiously.

"One of the frigates I protected? I can't tell you much besides the name. Was that ship a friend of yours?"

"You could say that, yes. Every time I went into battle, she was there at my flank." Prophecy's expression darkened suddenly. "Almost every battle. I'd like to know what happened to her after 2530, just to get some closure."

The Admiral nodded, standing up straight and turning towards his desk, where his AI companion had been standing patiently up until then.

"Huginn, if you would be so kind..."

The hooded figure, who had remained completely frozen with his hands at his sides up until then, looked up at the Admiral with a flourish of holographic snow manifesting around his avatar and vanished from the desk, replaced by the miniaturized hologram of a Stalwart-class frigate.

"FFG(L)-182, Aomori," a voice that was both dry and antiquated in tone narrated from the desk.

"Commissioned on May 3rd, 2523 with Commander Henry Saragat in command." A 3D recreation of a dour man appeared next to the ship.

"First assigned to the Navy's last large-scale publicity tour through the outer colonies before the Covenant threat was identified. Transferred to battlegroup X-Ray in 2526 as a replacement for losses suffered during the first battle of Harvest. The ship's first combat assignment was at Biko where its MAC was disabled by a Covenant plasma torpedo on March 23rd. After being repaired, it saw action at Polabia and Alpha Aurigae in 2526, Galodew and Katerynoslav in 2527, XI Boötis A, Admiral Cole's second intervention at Harvest, and Hat Yai in 2528, Gossamer and Ocracoke in 2529, and Beta Pictoris, Korčula, and HIP 57274 in 2530."

Prophecy stared blankly down at the holographic image of her former escort.

"That's about right. Galodew, Katerynoslav, XI Boötis A, Gossamer, Ocracoke, Beta Pictoris, Korčula, I remember all of those. I don't know anything about that last system, though."

"I was there!" Admiral Lončarić declared proudly, downing yet another glass. "One of Admiral Cole's counter attacks. He found out the Covenant were using the system as a staging area and decided to hit back. Section 2 kept that story fresh for a whole year."

Prophecy ignored the boast and kept staring at the desk, which was now covered with holograms showing various colonies and stars. "Go on. Was she at Harvest for the finale?"

"According to my records, Aomori was indeed part of Admiral Cole's fleet during the mopping-up operations on Harvest in February 2531 and beyond. After that, the frigate's last battle under Cole's command was in the Razak system that May. After that, it was transferred to Vice Admiral Jean Mawikizi's 11th Fleet."

Matei recognized that name immediately, but not from the war. No, Mawikizi was a name he recalled from watching news reports about the Insurrection, particularly places like Eridanus II, the Redoubt system, and Bomogin. What he also recalled was that the Admiral had already retired by 2517, which meant he'd been forced out of retirement to take command. Not a surprising turn of events given what he'd learned in hindsight. Judging by her fascinated expression, Prophecy seemed to have some memory of the man as well.

Admiral Lončarić also perked up at the mention of the name, and his dismal expression spoke volumes.

Huginn's summary continued, unbothered by the sudden interest of his audience.

"Subsequent engagements where the Aomori was involved include Arichal Munai and Cumuda in 2531, NovoKoryakia and Rheged in 2532, Luni, Paradise falls, and Aheloy in 2533, Cumberland in 2534, and one final recorded battle in orbit over Rockingham in September of that year. Records indicate it suffered crippling damage to the bridge in the closing phase of the battle, though elements of Mawikizi's fleet were able to recover it. No elaboration on what became of the hulk afterwards, though."

Prophecy peered over her glasses at the little hologram and sighed loudly.

"And I thought I had a rough war," she said softly.

"You don't know the half of it," Lončarić added. "Mawakizi's fleet was always being pushed back, but he made the Covenant pay for every asteroid in every system his forces were tasked with defending. It's impressive that a frigate could last 3 years under his command."

"Did he ever win a battle?" Prophecy asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"There's no disputing that he had the last laugh at Chi Rho, even if the Covenant did glass it. That should be a story for another day, though. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to know your recollections of Galodew."

Prophecy nodded in disagreement.

"Not yet, there's something else I'd like to know, just a brief little explanation." She looked back down at the desk. "Huginn, what can you tell me about Mycale, the Marathon-class that's part of this system's defense fleet? My…sister?"

Aomori's hologram vanished, replaced by a Marathon-class heavy cruiser that looked unremarkable at first. Inspecting the hologram further while Huginn spoke, Matei noted that it was bristling with unfamiliar weaponry and had a few extra turrets on its flanks.

"CA-970, Mycale. Rushed to service before being commissioned in September of 2552. The ship was sent into battle armed with nothing but the MAC and a few Bulwark turrets when the Covenant attacked Earth in October. It wasn't officially commissioned until April 4th of the following year, and the ship's first real deployment was during the Verge Incident in 2557…"

Prophecy fell down into her chair. "What? The Covenant made it to Earth!?"

Admiral Lončarić glared at Matei, almost downing another glass before he stopped himself.

"You still haven't explained the rest of the war to her?"

Matei sneered back at the Admiral, forgetting about the disparity in rank between the two of them for a moment. "Did it look like we could find the time to do that before we got here?'

"Fair," the Admiral replied.

But Prophecy remained inconsolable. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she said to herself. "Algolis, Chi Rho…the Covenant must've been all over the place. It would only be a matter of time."

She stared pleadingly up at Admiral Lončarić. "Sir, how did we win after the Covenant managed to find Earth? When the Navy was sending incomplete ships like her into harm's way?"

"The number of people who know the true answer to your first question is relatively small, even today." Lončarić stood up and strolled contemplatively around his desk. "Fortunately, I happen to be one of those people. Technically, neither of you have the clearance for what I'd like to explain, though I have the authority to waive such restrictions on a case-by-case basis. Being an Admiral has its perks, after all. With that in mind, would you like the long version or the short version?"

Before Prophecy could reply, Matei decided to interject.

"Sir, I don't have a problem with swapping war stories all day. That being said, I'm sure you have plenty of business to attend to as the top brass in the system, which is why I'd really like to take the opportunity to ask you if you know anything about the unexplained withdrawal of our orbital support."

A curious expression grew on the Admiral's face, though he remained silent.

"We lost a few hundred marines back on Algolis because Battlegroup Night Watch ran off without a word before Merg Vol's fleet rained on our parade, and that's without mentioning these Banished guys. Are they making a move on us? Has ONI been keeping an eye on them well in advance? I understand how the game is played, I just want to know what was so important that it warranted leaving us without cover for who knows how long."

He glanced anxiously at Prophecy, who watched him with mild concern.

"I know, does she have anything to do with it? Are there more like her out there?"

"No," Lončarić replied immediately, before growing more confident. "I can assure you that Prophecy is one of a kind, and if I knew of more like her, I would've told you immediately. As for why the Navy is on the move, well, it looks like I'll be nullifying those security clearance restrictions after all…"

—

Bgm

/watch?v=RapX-5mm5q8

"You guys want drinks?"

Sergeant Earnest Barr looked over at the other marines sitting in the booth alongside him, ignoring the hectic electronic music that filled the guest lounge. The large room was steeped in clashing aesthetic styles from across Earth's history, and the omnipresent blue lighting was the most obvious example. The sliced-and-diced music was another.

At least Flip music has heart, the Sergeant thought to himself.

Currently, the only marines accompanying were two from his own squad and Sergeant McCallen.

"Nah, I already have something," Private Ramon replied, hefting a large can with an ostentatious yet unfamiliar branding in front of him.

"Lemme see that," Barr taunted, grabbing the younger marine's drink before he could react so he could get a closer look. The most prominent feature of the artwork that covered the can was a laughing skull overlaid on top of a drop pod descending through debris and plasma. He slowly read the name of the drink aloud, heedless of Ramon's protests.

"Flaming skulls hard seltzer: the official beverage of the 105th Shock Trooper Division." The entire title was written in a stylized font that looked as if the words were on fire.

"Drop feet first into hell with a refreshing burst of Pineapple and Cranberry flavor," he went on.

"5% alcohol by volume," he finished with a scoff.

"More like feet first into Heck." He slid the can back to Ramon and decided to get a drink all by himself.

The lounge was currently crowded with other marines from the rudely-renamed Covenant holdout corvette, their battered and grimy tan uniforms cast in strange hues by the blue light. Most huddled around the lounge's buffet, eager for their first proper meal after weeks of eating half-rations and completely oblivious to any potential annoyed looks from onlookers with more decorum. There were only a few people from the military base itself, mostly officers who'd managed to avoid whatever high alert the whole system was on while they waited for more information about the corvette.

Ernest was just taking a seat at a bar stool when one of the regulars approached and sat down on his right. Unlike most of them, he was a younger man dressed in a service uniform with gray "urban-style" camo print that identified him as a marine.

"Looks like you had a hell of a week," the man noted before ordering a drink of his own.

"Hell of a month, actually," Ernest noted calmly, then pored over the holographic menu in front of him for a good drink. He settled on a blend labeled "plasma grenade": an even mix of win and gin with some fruits he'd never heard of that gave it a vibrant blue color.

"What unit were you guys from?" The marine pressed.

"Which 'you guys' are you referring to here?"

"You're from the Corvette, right?"

"How'd you notice, was it the dirt we tracked all over the carpet?" The pair couldn't have been more different: Ernest's tan fatigues looked as worn out as he himself was after 23 years of service. Meanwhile, the other marine's service uniform looked ot have been washed that very day

Both of their drinks arrived, and Ernest immediately took a brazen swig of the glass. He regretted it immediately. First there was an overwhelming sweetness, then an immensely sour aftertaste assailed his throat. The Sergeant coughed lightly for a few seconds and almost spilled some of the blue cocktail. Certainly lives up to its name, he thought, ignoring the amused look of the other marine.

"You found out about our little cruise liner awfully fast, didn't you?"

The young man turned quizzical. "I mean, the fleet sent the word out right after you arrived at the station. I'd say they would've kept it all hush-hush if they were expecting you, am I right? Definitely not some daring ONI business going on." He sipped his own mint green blend and held out a hand. "I'm Sergeant Aldridge Wayenright, 901st Motorized battalion."

"Sergeant Ernest Barr, I was with the 19th Combined detachment under Colonel Sternwitz on Algolis until he bought it at the start of the attack." He accepted the handshake halfheartedly and took a more cautious sip of his drink, accepting the handshake.

"Sounds like they knew just where to hit you."

"Oh, you misunderstand. They didn't really bomb the base that much at first. The covie wannabees wanted to leave us alive so they could fight us face-to-face. That bombardment was just a show of force, and it just so happened to land right where Colonel Sternwitz was off driving in his staff 'hog. He liked to get some fresh air, enjoy the scenery, that sort of thing."

Wayneright took in every word of Ernest's rough explanation with unwavering focus. "Awful, just a terrible turn of events," he said, seemingly to himself.

"Yup," Ernest agreed, already feeling the initial effects of his beverage begin to take hold. He set his elbows on the bar for support and uttered his next thought before he could stop himself. "But then she came along and made me feel 20 years younger…" he took a swig without thinking.

Wayneright raised an eyebrow at his ramblings and took another sip.

"Okay…who's 'she'? Did you and some other marine think you weren't going to make it off and-"

"No, that's not what happened at all!" Ernest half-laughed, half-coughed as he realized how Wayneright had interpreted his remark. "She saved us! But she also made us feel so…pleasant, somehow. It feels like something out of a kid's movie when I say it, but the feeling was there. Besides, I'm not the one for her."

He watched the younger marine grow from amused to confused at his explanation.

Oh well, it couldn't hurt, he decided in a rush of gin-fueled enthusiasm.

"It started in a little valley one morning…"

—

"This is Alpha Corvi II," Admiral Lončarić explained, gesturing with a glass towards the hologram of a watery planet covered with clusters of verdant land masses displayed on his desk. "Or rather, it was. Huginn, give them the highlights."

The hooded AI appeared next to the planet and followed up where the Admiral had left off. "Alpha Corvi II was the site of the first true battle between UNSC and Covenant starships on December 3rd of 2525. The only prior encounters before then were the one-sided defeat of the CMA's battlegroup 4 over Harvest and a highly unconventional skirmish near Chi Ceti IV."

Matei was quite fascinated by this explanation. He remembered Prophecy mentioning that one of her sisters had been destroyed at Alpha Corvi II, but he had never even heard of that colony, let alone any battles taking place there. Chi Ceti was completely unknown to him, though judging by the way some of the marines back on Algolis had referred to it, he guessed that it was another planet-wide weapons testing ground. Even this CMA beatdown at Harvest in 2525 was new to him; he only knew about Admiral Cole's expedition in March of the following year.

"A fleet led by the Carrier Atlas was deployed to confront a Covenant scouting force. By any measure, the engagement in space should've been a crushing defeat for the UNSC battlegroup," Huginn went on, "but mutual unfamiliarity meant the Covenant were unwilling and unable to press their usual advantages. This gave UNSC forces on the ground enough time to accomplish their objective and extract from the planet before the fleet was overwhelmed. What makes this battle so notable aside from the date is the lack of a followup glassing effort by the Covenant fleet. Aside from the destruction of all major human settlements, the planet was left unharmed."

That got Matei's attention. The last time he'd heard of the Covenant sparing parts of a planet from glassing was Harvest in 2530, and he knew how that had turned out.

Whether the full explanation was classified or regarded as a digression, Huginn didn't elaborate on why Alpha Corvi II was spared.

"ONI enforced a total blackout of the system following the Covenant withdrawal, an effort that deteriorated and was eventually rendered moot as Covenant fleets advanced through that section of human space later on in the war. Illicit resettlement efforts began shortly after the Voi agreement of 2553 and continued without interference for the next 2 decades."

Huginn dismissed the hologram with a gesture.

"That was until contact was lost with the planet and various merchant ships last recorded as heading for the system in January of this year. A Prowler sent to scout the system found this in February-"

Alpha Corvi reappeared, and at first Matei couldn't tell what the difference was. Huginn seemed to recognize as much, and the hologram expanded in size moments later.

Now the marine could see blackened scars across all of the various islands that littered the watery planet. Many had even been completely scoured of life, floating in the ocean like shattered pieces of charcoal.

"Not a single human life sign was detected on the planet. The bombardment appears both systematic and cruel. Many of the islands that were stripped of all life were by all records never settled across both periods of human colonization."

Matei wasn't sure how to feel about the scene before him. Extensive though the devastation was, it was far less all-encompassing than the average Covenant glassing, which never spared the oceans of an offending planet.

Now it was the Admiral's turn to pick up where his AI had left off.

"Before you beseech us with questions about the culprits, I'll have to disappoint you by saying that ONI's preliminary investigation hasn't turned up anything conclusive. The damage done to Alpha Corvi II was immense, no doubt, but it doesn't quite line up with what we'd see from a glassing. Whatever did this, it wasn't Covenant, which makes this devastation all the more disturbing. I hope you can see why."

"Because we don't know them, but they know us." Matei guessed.

"Exactly. Which makes it so infuriating that I haven't seen the slightest consideration of that possibility in any of the Highcom memos I've received. Think about the timetable involved. We only became aware that something was amiss in January, but the atrocity could easily have occurred on December 3rd of last year. Even if I'm off by a few weeks, consider the timing of when we uncovered the truth of what happened."

"February?"

"Right, just around the anniversary of when Admiral Hood and Thel Vadam signed the peace treaty on Sanghelios. Make no mistake, this wasn't just a mindless act of slaughter, it was a calculated event designed to send a message as we pass into the 25th Anniversary of the War's end."

The Admiral looked over towards Prophecy, who remained fixated on the devastated planet before her.

"And now…" he muttered with a hint of fear in his voice, "now you're here, and I have to face the possibility that your presence isn't just a coincidence."

Prophecy didn't immediately acknowledge the man's words, still observing the rotating hologram of Alpha Corvi II until Huginn disabled it. She shivered slightly and finally regarded the Admiral, guilt flashing in her eyes.

"Tell me, was there a 'before' that you remember between your original existence and this one?"

"Not really. There wasn't even a 'me' to remember anything, there was just darkness."

"Could you detect the passage of time while you were waiting there? Or did you feel as if something was holding you there against your will?"

"Time had nothing to do with it, I just felt like someone in my crew was in danger all of the sudden and that's when I started to realize I was in the dark for the first time."

Lončarić eyed the bottle of vodka sitting on his desk longingly before he replied.

"There has to be a connection. This-you, sitting here in front of me, it didn't happen before, but it's happening now." He sighed. "And right now I'm too drunk to try and figure it out."

He sat down unceremoniously behind his desk. "Matei, Prophecy, this has been a very illuminating discussion, but I think it's time we wrapped it up. By the time you reach the main entrance my guards should be able to direct you to a pair of spare officers' rooms. Tomorrow, who knows? We can arrange weapons testing, training exercises in orbit, whatever you can think of. Until then, just relax and help yourselves to the guest lounge."

Prophecy snapped to her feet and saluted. "Thank you sir!"

"No need for any of that. Technically you're a civilian. I think of you both as my former comrades in arms, and you should do the same."

"Sure," Matei curtly replied, not sure how much of what he'd just heard was the Vodka talking. Prophecy simply nodded and turned to leave alongside him.

Despite his concerns, Matei decided that they really couldn't have picked a better officer to make their case to. This was a man who'd served in the same era as both of them, and in some of the very same battles as well. If anyone might be willing to believe Prophecy's story, it would be a veteran like him. The only question was how far his trust would get them outside the Alpha Aurigae system. They couldn't stay here for long, not with some unknown threat lurking in human space in addition to the Banished making their presence known, and whatever opportunistic groups might try to jump in when the chaos really started to set in. For Matei, there was an obvious destination on this journey:

Prophecy would have to leave Capella for Earth as soon as possible.

—

Aldridge Wayneright leaned calmly against the neon-shaded wall of the restroom stall, pondering the story he'd just been told by the marine stationed at Camp Ghost on Algolis. Music rumbled obnoxiously from behind the restroom door, distracting him just enough to be annoying.

In his hands he held a paper-thin datapad connected to a hidden microphone inside his uniform, the screen dominated by an orange square. If he were to put his thumbprint on the square, the datapad would immediately send a highly-encrypted transmission containing everything he'd recorded in the last 30 minutes to the Prowler Silent Lucidity, currently holding orbit far out of sight and out of mind from the other Navy assets waiting above Capella. In accordance with the coloration displayed on the datapad, the transmission would be marked orange priority: noteworthy, but not important enough to warrant a withdrawal to Earth.

Aldridge was not a Sergeant in the UNSC Marine corp-not just a Sergeant, that is, despite how some might want to disqualify him from the Marines due to interservice provincialism. He was an operative in Section 1 of the Office of Naval Intelligence, and he was currently faced with a dilemma. On one hand, he found Sergeant Barr's story hard to believe. He'd seen some absurd propaganda movies cooked up by his colleagues in Section 2, but the idea of warships coming back in human form outdid them all.

Until he remembered the recent advisory that had come straight from CINCONI to report any and all "abnormal incidents", that is.

This time it had been no ordinary reminder to stay alert from the head of his own section. When the Commander-in-Chief told every section to keep its head on a swivel, it meant that something serious was about to kick off.

Nobody had explained just what they were supposed to be on the lookout for. To Aldridge, it seemed that even CINCONI wasn't sure what was going on, which was an unnerving idea in and of itself.

So then, did a woman who knew things only the crew of a 55 year-old lost ship might know and could breath in the vacuum of space count as an "abnormal incident"?

Taking a deep breath, Aldridge put his thumb on the datapad, eliciting a pleasant "ping" from the device. Normally, this act would be accompanied by an unspoken promise to follow up with more intel, but Aldridge guessed that no subterfuge would be needed to verify his report. After all, the Sergeant claimed the strange woman in question was currently meeting with the Admiral himself. Evidently, the man had seen sufficient proof to take an interest in her, whatever she was.

The only question was whether her true nature would be unveiled or if she would be given a cover story for the duration of her stay at the base. Either way, ONI would be keeping its eyes peeled for whatever came next.

—

Chief Petty officer Geznen finally set down the 8 kilo dumbbells he'd been lifting and grabbed a canteen of vitamin water. With the arrival of their uninvited guest, he'd felt a newfound motivation to work out more than usual and seized on it shortly after the captured corvette had passed. Ahead of him, the screens at his workstations projected flickering stars caught in the hull camera attached to the exterior of listening post Hotel. The view had long since gotten boring, and was really the last resort of a station loaded with all manner of enhanced sensors.

On his left, crewman Wenninger sat with his legs propped up on his dashboard reading a physical book of all things. Geznen often thought of instituting a mandatory workout schedule for the two-man crew, but that would take just a little more effort than he was interested in dedicating his time to, particularly on behalf of a man like Wenninger.

As for his book, Geznen hadn't seen it before, but the familiar camouflage pattern on the dust cover told him everything he needed to know. It was yet another war story, this one written by some guy named Harland.

Geznen had once heard a popular quote from some smart AI that it would take 1000 years to read every single firsthand account of the Covenant war immortalized in written form, and he had no interest in getting started on that monumental task. He was particularly amazed by the fact that Wenninger often read books written by sailors. The last thing he wanted to read about while he was cooped up on a flimsy two-man station were stories about the ever-present risk of getting blown out into the vacuum of space…

He was replacing the cap on his canteen when a familiar warning light appeared on the dashboard.

"Heads up Wenninger, we've got a slipspace signature…somewhere." The scene of empty space on the main screen was replaced by a simplified map of the area surrounding station Hotel, with stations Gamma and India on either side. Where he should've been seeing a relatively precise position of the newcomer, though, he instead saw several different points flashing in rapid succession, as if the scanners were unable to pinpoint where exactly this mysterious contact had exited slipspace.

"Is it in the same spot as the corvette?" Asked Wenninger, despite the fact that his own screen would've held the answer to that question.

"Take a look," Geznen snapped, not feeling particularly patient right then. Aside from the irregular sensor readings, the simple possibility that this contact was pursuing the hijacked corvette was unpleasant enough.

Gezen reviewed the previous 10 seconds of footage from every external camera, hoping to catch a glimpse of a new star flashing in the dark. The search proved fruitless.

"Appears to be further out…" he said to himself, though his reason for making that guess wasn't relieving at all. The slipspace rupture alarm continued to beep incessantly, now displaying at least two more contacts appearing where he guessed the first had dropped in.

"We're getting something…" he spoke again to try and focus his nerves, observing the similarly vague readings about the new contacts themselves.

"This is some fierce jamming tech," Wenninger concurred. The sensor readout now displayed at least 4 signatures advancing in their general direction, and not a single concrete detail about any of them.

"I'm picking up a signal," Wenninger noted while Geznen fiddled with the sensor settings on his dashboard.

"Might as well answer it." Geznen ordered.

Wenninger tapped the appropriate button on his keyboard.

"Hey shitheel, this is listening post Hotel, turn on your transponder or we vaporize you with a dozen X-ray lasers. Understand?" Geznen tried to remain aloof, but he felt his voice quiver with each word.

Nothing came through for a while, during which time the sensors only managed to provide a rough outline of the newcomers' course: right at the station.

A loud static cough suddenly filled the room, the two shocked sailors nearly jumping out of their seats. More warbling static followed, an almost melodic pattern that seemed to be formed by the interference itself rather than whoever or whatever was on the other side.

"h̶̦̱̽͜͠h̸̼͐͋h̷͔́͆ẖ̷͛͗ḩ̵̦̻͕̐ ̶̦̄ ̵̺͉̟͗̎̾ḩ̶̲̩̍ḵ̴̡̰̻̅̏k̶̹̒̃ư̷̖̱̺̘͂̑g̶̢̡̹̻̍̆͠d̸̡̼̪̾̾r̵̙̄̏ḧ̴̼́j̶͎͕͋̔u̵̡̗̯͍̐̽u̶̢͔͐̍͂̏u̸͓̲͙͚͌ ̶̹͙͔̜͊͑̍ ̷̮̌̓͘ ̷̱͗̀̆ ̷̨͝ ̶̢̦͕̜̿̒̈́͘ ̵̟̝͝ ̶̨̜͝ ̴̡͍͍̲͘̕ ̷̨̧̜̭̋̈́͗ ̶̱̖͙̏ͅ ̴̗̼͈͌̽͝ ̵̧͔͓͇̈́ ̶̧̣͂̏ͅt̵͈͓͎͓̃f̵̪̺̭̜̊̿ţ̶̙͑͗̚̚͜ư̴͈̒͗ú̷͈͋u̸̡͍̫̾̈́̔ǐ̷̛̦͕̞̌̅a̴̡̩̾̿͒à̶̭̑h̶͓̎̚̚h̸͓̀̉̅̔j̵̠̼̱̲̏̈a̶̢̗̅k̸̖̓̄̚"

Wenninger spoke before Geznen could recover.

"Uh, excuse me, you might need to adjust your frequency a little…"

The CPO remained silent, shocked that his subordinate was reverting to jokes at a time like this.

Before Geznen could tell him to knock it off, the sound of static begging gargled rose to life in the cramped confines of the control room, a low yet piercing noise that rang in his ears for many seconds.

"f̴͉̩̥̭̺͐͛̄̒͊̃ͅ ̵͍͔̺̳̻̐͐͘g̵̨̝̼̦͎͇͌͒̐ ̵̙̲̥͓̪̠͖͋̈́͝h̶̥͉̪̉͗̿̌͐̈̚ ̶̻̩͖̺̱͚̼͎̄͗̀́̔̒̌̄è̸̥r̶̪̹̉̀̂̿̑ ̴̟̬̐̉̒i̶̹͑̓ ̷̤͖͙̲̻͔̞̽͐̃̈́̑̚ ̶̡̠̘͍̣̬̼̐̀̋͝ͅ ̶̬̲͆̋̋̓̒̀ ̴̨̱͈͛̄̏̅̕̚ȩ̷̪̻̻̖̞̏͛̐̀ ̸̧̢͚̲͍͙̺͒͋̓ḻ̵̗̟̮̔̽̐͠ ̸͉͙͚̩̦̅̃̄̾̚ ̷̧̩̿̉͆͌͠ ̸̨͙͎̠̮̭͐̾̊̀̈́͒͐ ̴͙͈̤͖͍̈́̓t̶̩͚̣̻̱̖̏ẏ̶̧͋͜ú̴̫̠͍͉̺̈́͊͂̈́̌̈́͠ų̵͈̳̜̩͍̽̎̒͘͜r̴͈̮̱̩̠͊̈́ȩ̴̡͉̺̯̀͠ͅ ̵̛͖̪̪̮̥̞͙͕̇̆̀ó̸͉͕͍͖̼̖̈́́̃f̷̧͚̤͛̐t̷̨͑̐͘f̸̧̩͉̀͐̓̐j̸̬̹̝̤̓̂f̴̦͗̏ͅf̶̢̤̼͈̾̓̊͝f̶̫̽f̴͑̐̀̂͜f̷̱̮͛̃ȑ̸̥͖̦̀̚̕ͅr̴̡̮̒g̸̬͔͠j̷̞̼̦̖̀̉h̶͕̮̒͛͋̚ ̵̺͔̪͆̌͛ ̶̨̤̃ ̶͔̱̱̐̀"

Wenninger was undaunted, stuttering with each word of his response.

"Umm…I think your own ECM is interfering with your transmission, maybe you should tone it down a smidge-"

The subsequent blast of incoherent roaring sounded slightly more like regular static over the sound of metallic coughing and growling.

"f̴͓͘h̸͇͉̘̯̼̖͊͜y̶̡͉͔̗͍̝͊̓ḵ̵̨͖͓̝̳̘͛̆͒̂̽g̷̺̟͚͊͊̓̾̒͝j̸̟̃̑̇͐̊̈́̏f̴̟̪̙̹͐̃͗́̓͑̋k̸̢̋̉̔̈͠ǘ̷̖̟̞̏̆̄̚ͅr̸̟̒̄̔̈́͋k̵͔͔̦̙̭̾ͅl̶̡̛̏̓̂̀̃̽̚l̸̢̨̺̯͈̠̎͑́̿̇̆̉l̵̨̥̫̬̳͆̊͒͘͝ͅǐ̴͇͒̆͝r̴̪̈́̏̉͛ṛ̶̡̥̟̹̺̟̐̄̊͌͑h̶̥̺̳̿̽̓̍̆ÿ̵͉̬́̿̉͊̿͒̐͝ų̵̪̠̲̈́̓̋̀̅͒̎́ṵ̸͍̣̪͓̙͕̒ḷ̴̡̡͈̉́p̵̢̦̠͖̻͈̭̥̉̍p̵̨̡̛̫̙͈̖̫̗̏̑̚p̶̨̥͙̺͉̱͔̏̽̎̓̀̆x̴͍̼̉d̵̼͖͇̳͗̔̿̔f̷͖̖̮͎̰̤̱̉͘g̴̛̞͎̲͉͉͊̋̿̍̎̅͜d̴̩̳̫̮̄̐d̴̘̘̀̀̀̂͆̽̚͠"

"Sheesh, you really need to clear your throat," Wenninger sighed. "Let's wait 15 minutes until after you've had some tea and then start over, okay-?"

The next burst of whining static resolved itself clearly into high-pitched metallic chittering that reverberated gradually as if coming from several sources at once. And this time, it sounded mad.

"g̵̰̜͈̜͇͒f̶̯͎̑̃̈̎d̴͕̞̟͓͒͆͌̑͂ͅh̸͍̬̱̏̽͜ ̸̼̰̥̟̇̇ͅK̵̰̓K̸̢̖͇͕̉Ķ̵͕̹͛̇̅Ķ̷̊̓̈́͗͛Ḱ̶̹͓̲͕̚K̴͙̝̖̓̏K̶͈̫͖͖̈́̒̊̄̊d̵͎̖͚͚̞͛g̴̰̖̍h̵̨̛̃͒̎͆h̶̢̟͖̜͑f̸̧̮̄̂̔ͅI̴̡̦͚̓̈́͆Ḯ̷̪̠͇Í̴̗͑I̷̱̞͋̚I̷̛ͅĮ̷̘̩̤͋̔͑Ỉ̷̱̻̺͙̟d̵̫̯͓͆͝h̸̡̗͍̋͋d̷̨͇̫̯̺̿̂̀̉g̷̋͆̀͐̕͜j̷̯̳͚̲̆͂̌͌f̷͖͖̤̻̂̂͑͊͘L̵̹̫͕̰͒̅́̕L̵̠̺̀̄͛Ĺ̷̘̖́͐Ḻ̵͎͚̃̽̋͜ͅL̴̓̆ͅf̵̞̱̪͓͍̄̂͠g̷̡̭͎̗̍̋̓͂h̷̩͇̗͋͛͒̑̃L̶̉͌̆͝ͅḺ̸́͆̌͆͘Ļ̸͍̠̯͘̚͜L̶͓̍͒̓f̸̭̰̻̞̘̾̔͐̚͠f̴̻͛f̷̼͎͛̀̾Y̷̱̪̙̞͓̔̇͗͛̔Ǫ̴̧͇͖̙̇U̷̘͆n̶͇̽n̷̞̏͛n̵͚̼̼̳̑n̸̫͛r̸̢̰͋"

Geznen finally escaped his stupor. "You idiot, we're under attack! Sound the alarm now!"

Wenninger slammed his fist onto the prominent red button located next to his keyboard, more on instinct than of his own accord. A shocked expression sprang onto the sailors face.

"Sir, look! We're being jammed!"

Geznen checked his own main screen and saw the same thing, realizing that it was now far too late. As if in reply, the metallic babbling rose to life again, growing louder and louder until the sound of screeching laughter rang in Geznen's ears. The unnatural cacophony was so intense that he could barely hear Wenninger's panicked warnings right next to him, failing to connect them with the energy readings flashing on his screen until it was too late.

"They're shooting at us-"

The screen switched automatically to an exterior shot that lasted for just 5 seconds before several distant gleams suddenly grew in size until the whole scene was nothing but red light. Listening post Hotel shuddered violently from several impacts, knocking the two unsecured crewmen off their seats right before their view was replaced by space itself, pulling them into space towards a ring of sky-blue lights surrounding a malicious yellow glow.

Fortunately, the vacuum got to them first.

A/N: Alpha Aurigae arc is here, we are in the home stretch. This particular story should be done at just under 150k words.