PSA's:

Just wanting to let everyone know, I have completed the chapters ahead and now, we are entering into the Human-Covenant war in the next upcoming chapters! Consider this chapter the beginning of the Storm!

Hint: Keep an eye on these plots-

1) Warhammer 40k related items in the chapter following the next one.

2) Mass Effect related items in the next chapter.

3) And Star Wars (specifically KOTOR) related items in the next chapter.

And yes, I DID reuse some old writing pieces for this chapter!

AND I am releasing the next chapter in a little bit, stay tuned!

Halo: Modern Evolutions

Chapter XII: Escalation

Catherine Halsey

Chi Ceti IV, Damascus Testing Facility

July 8th, 2525

Seeing John dawn on the helmet of his MJOLNIR suit made smile inwardly. If the young man known as Christian were here to watch this happen again, he'd likely pass out from the excitement of this moment. That at least was true about John, being the first to dawn the suit and be warned of what could possibly happen to them. It was the remarkable traits predicted by John once again. She saw what kind of potential the Spartan would have if he had the compassion of humanity following in his determination to save it. Due to the acceleration of their training reaching this moment, Halsey remembered what it took to come here.

In accelerating the program to this point, the washouts that were taken into Section Three would act as specialists for the Spartans as they were assigned to take on missions against The Insurrection. Blue Team was sent to retrieve Colonel Robert Watts. Through the technical directives of the young candidates and their Spartan successors, the mission was accomplished without John taking a bullet for Sam. While the Spartans took on the rush physically, their fellow candidates hacked modules and provided accurate data from long range telecommunications. In response to the success of Blue Team and the rest of the Spartans in such a fast pace, Halsey was approved to go to the next phase.

This time, Halsey halted the experimentation of live test subjects and opted for a test dummy. The material broke the machine and the experiment was completed ethically, if such a thing mattered for her anymore. Everything was improving with very little change on her part, and the concerns of Chief Mendez for making babies run. However, Catherine knew the score that was coming over the horizon and she couldn't sit by while her Spartans were being prepared to die. If they were going to fall, it would be with their armor put on and their training completed.

Everything for the better moment of survival, no matter the cost.

"Well... how does it feel?" Halsey asked John, her composure getting back into shape. She could see the tall Spartan leering back after having the helmet dawned upon him.

"Like I was made to wear it."

Griffin Phoenix

Noctus, Andesia

July 12th, 2525

The vibrant city of Noctus gleamed below, its towering structures and busy streets bustling with activity. Yet above the city's skyline, a much grander exodus was underway. Several Atlas-controlled Paris-class Heavy Frigates, sleek and imposing, hovered above, their silhouettes casting long, foreboding shadows onto the city below.

One by one, the majestic ships began to ascend, their thrusters illuminating the skies in a bright, fiery hue. Surrounding them, an armada of Freighters and Pelicans flew in perfect formation, a coordinated dance of machinery, carrying with them the newly recruited employees of the Atlas Corporation.

As the fleet climbed higher, the curve of the planet became more prominent, a vast expanse of blue and green gradually replaced by the blackness of space. Stars glittered in the distance, and the planet's horizon was now aglow with the colors of the setting sun.

Among the fleet, communication channels buzzed with activity. "Alpha Wing, maintain formation," came a voice through the comms, clear and authoritative. "Ensure all freighters have clearance for the ascent."

"Roger that, command," responded a pilot from one of the Pelicans. "All systems are green. We're ready for regroup."

In the upper atmosphere, the true might of the Atlas fleet was apparent. Massive capital ships, Carriers, and additional Frigates lay in wait from a nearby slipspace vector, forming an impressive task force. As the Paris-class Frigates from Noctus approached, they took their places in the formation, like pieces in an intricate puzzle.

The vastness of space spread out in all directions, punctuated by the bright pinpricks of distant stars. The assembled Atlas fleet seemed like a sprawling, interconnected metropolis in its own right, floating amid the cosmos.

Each Paris-class Heavy Frigate moved with calculated precision; their approach vectors coordinated to ensure a seamless docking with the carriers. Large, cavernous bays on the carriers opened, awaiting the incoming ships. The hulls of the frigates gleamed in the dim light, reflecting the nearby starlight and the ambient glow from the carrier's lights.

Pelicans, laden with equipment and personnel, followed designated flight paths to their respective docking platforms. Their VTOL engines roared as they adjusted for a smooth landing, the backwash from their thrusters causing a shimmering haze.

The Freighters, with their more cumbersome size and shape, were escorted by smaller fighter ships, ensuring their safe approach. Their large cargo bays were filled with resources vital for the fleet's operations – supplies, equipment, and the tools necessary for establishing a presence on new worlds. As they moved closer to the carriers, automated tractor beams engaged, gently guiding them into the expansive cargo bays.

Inside the carriers, the atmosphere was one of coordinated chaos. Crew members rushed to and fro, preparing to receive the inbound vessels. Monitors flashed with real-time data, and loudspeakers blared with the voices of air traffic controllers.

"Freighter Delta-3, adjust your approach by two degrees starboard," came a voice over the comm.

"Roger," responded the Freighter's captain, making the necessary adjustments.

As the Atlas fleet continued its precise ballet of docking and coordination, Captain Torren, observing the scene from a viewing deck, felt a swell of pride. The meticulously orchestrated sequence of events before him was the result of months of planning and hard work. Beside him stood a young officer, her eyes wide with a mix of admiration and anticipation.

"We're mobilizing on a scale I've never seen before, sir," she remarked, taking in the vast array of ships. "This isn't just another operation, is it?"

Torren turned to face her, his expression inscrutable. "No, Lieutenant. This is the beginning of something much bigger. We're preparing for an endeavor that will redefine the boundaries of what Atlas can achieve."

He moved away from the observation window and approached a display stand holding a set of armor. The armor had been repurposed and rebranded for the Atlas fleet. It was now referred to as the 'Sentinel Class Combat Uniform' or SCCU, but among the troops, it had earned the nickname "Sentinel Armor" due to its formidable design and capabilities.

As Captain Torren began donning the Sentinel Armor, the Lieutenant watched. The armor wasn't just a protective suit; it was something made for those who loved war.

Fitting the last piece, the helmet, under his arm, Torren looked up. "Prepare the crew, Lieutenant."

The Lieutenant saluted sharply, her determination evident. "Understood, sir. We will be ready."

Preston Cole

Earth

July 20th, 2525

Preston Cole reclined on the sterilized bed, a thick sterile sheet drawn over him. The beeping of machines added a steady rhythm to the hushed atmosphere of the hospital room. As he rested, Cole's thoughts wandered, circling around the sharp turns of his military career and the choices he had made.

A soft mechanical whir interrupted his ruminations. Cole turned his head, studying the Atlas Corporation's emblem on the incoming Super Tactical Droid. "Quite a distance from a boardroom, isn't it?" Cole's voice dripped with intrigue.

The droid, stopping by the foot of his bed, responded, "Rear Admiral Cole, Atlas Corporation recognizes talent and the need for it. Despite your current circumstances, your reputation as a strategist is... undeniable."

Cole smirked, a touch of bitterness showing. "Yes, my reputation. Along with a few other things. And what does Atlas want with a disgraced Rear Admiral?"

"Reputation is a matter of perspective, and perspectives can change," the droid intoned. "Atlas offers an opportunity, not just for redemption, but for purpose."

Leaning forward slightly, despite the slight sting from his surgical site, Cole asked, "What exactly are you offering?"

The droid's sensory nodes shifted subtly. "A return. Not just to the navy, but with a promotion. The position of Vice Admiral awaits you, with full reinstatement to active duty. The Corporation believes in leveraging assets, and in this case, the asset is you."

A cynical chuckle escaped Cole's lips. "You make it sound so straightforward. Why would Atlas go to such lengths for me?"

The droid's response was immediate. "Your strategic insight is unparalleled, Rear Admiral. The current state of the UNSC presents challenges that require expertise. We believe you can be an asset in navigating these challenges."

Cole took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the offer pressing on him. "And in return?"

The droid paused before replying, "Nothing, you being on the field is paramount to a strategic victory. If there is any return offers, it would be in reference to seeing what resources we can provide for you and your assets."

Cole looked out the window for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "A second chance... Let's say I'm listening."

Griffin Phoenix

Flagship: ORION, In Orbit Above Andesia

July 21st, 2525

The dimly lit room, dominated by a massive holographic display table at its center, stood silent except for the faint hum of the station's reactors. Illuminated under the pale blue glow, the region of space they were in was stretched out, with specific planets and regions highlighted. Harvest blinked in a soft amber hue, drawing everyone's attention.

Griffin Phoenix, in his Sentinel Armor, its polished surface reflecting the holographic light, looked over the display. The intricate designs and circuitry on the armor indicated rank and purpose. The same could be said for the other members of Saegillius Squad, all donned in Sentinel Armor, forming an elite, unified presence in the room.

Raven stood apart, her disguise meticulous enough to avoid unwanted attention, yet subtly hinting at her unique identity. Three Super Tactical Droids, their mechanical forms devoid of any emotion, stood poised, their processors continuously analyzing the data in real-time.

One of the Captains, Captain Elara, stepped forward, her armor's projection module interfacing with the table. "Battlegroup 4 is currently en route to Harvest," she began. "Initial reports indicate that communication with the colony has gone dark. We have no current intel on the system as of yet."

"What do you mean by 'current' intel?" Captain Rodriguez asked, his imposing red coated Sentinel Armor projected his confusion over the many humans and droids in the room.

Griffin's voice broke the anticipatory silence. "That reminds me. Historical analysis and our AI recovery teams indicate that we're dealing with an alien presence on Harvest. They're organized, ruthless, and technologically advanced, yet there is some data that leaves us interested in discovering. This is what we have found as of today."

At that moment, Griffin projected the data by linking everyone's HUD's to the combat footage playback system. Immediately, scenes of conflict played out in front of them.

DATA ACCESSED: Images of towns under assault by an alien ship, with civilians fleeing in chaos filled their helmets. A Warthog ramming into the form of a large alien chieftain, a brute of a creature. Alien dropships flew overhead, one of which was destroyed, and the fury in the eyes of another alien being seen from the distance.

The footage then shifted to the large structures on Harvest, the space elevators and the Tiara space station. Small alien forces patrolling the station, while another alien that hovered and floated like a balloon interfaced with the two AIs, Loki and the damaged Sif. The crew watched as a strange symbol was projected, leading to an intensified alien interest.

Chaos continued as Harvest's mass driver targeted and struck the alien cruiser, crippling it. Close-up footage showed intense ground combat - the bravery of Byrne at the Harvest reactor complex, Johnson leading an assault on the Tiara, and the brutal challenge between two more aliens fighting for dominance.

There was a palpable tension when bug-like aliens were seen attacking the previously seen floating alien, followed by a grieving grunt-like alien unleashing fury upon them, and finally, the powerful showdown between the bigger brute and the smaller grunt, and its death in a pasty mist.

As the footage ended, the image of the brute retreating, but not before nearly killing Johnson, stayed vivid in their minds.

END RECORDING: The room was silent, absorbing the weight of what they had just seen.

The hushed silence was broken by the shuffling of armored figures in the room as the members of Saegillius Squad processed the new revelation. The grave reality of what was happening on Harvest left a deep impact on each of them, their expressions concealed beneath the hardened exteriors of their Sentinel Armor. Yet, through their subtle movements and body language, the gravity of the situation was deeply felt.

Orenski, whose usual commanding aura was somewhat muted, showed a determination that proved her leadership qualities. Her clenched fists revealed the resolve to face this newfound adversity and her pursuit of power and influence seemed to be aimed more than ever towards protecting humanity.

Rika, who harbored a deep resentment towards the Innies due to her past, appeared shaken. The scene of devastation on Harvest brought back painful memories, but it also steeled her resolve. Her past trauma molded her into a relentless warrior, and Griffin could see that she was ready to channel this newfound purpose against the alien threat.

Niko, the prospective ODST, his large frame imposing even in the confines of the room, was like a hardened rock. The revelation didn't seem to shake him; instead, it sparked an unspoken determination, an unyielding spirit that defined him as a protector.

Sarah, who always had a sharp eye for detail and precision, watched the footage with an intense focus. Her pursuit of becoming a respected marksman seemed to take on a new meaning now - her targets were no longer hypothetical.

Becky and Michael, who shared dreams of a peaceful life post-service, stood side by side. There was a silent understanding between them, a shared vision of a future that they must fight to protect. Their camaraderie and mutual support were clear indicators of their deep bond.

Wilhelm, the tech enthusiast, was absorbed in analyzing the alien technology. His fascination with systems and the potential to exploit them, seemed invigorated by this new adversary.

Rodriguez and Ramirez showed contrasting reactions. Rodriguez, who aspired to be a medic, exhibited a solemn determination, understanding the heavy responsibility that might soon fall on her. Ramirez, in contrast, showed a calm acceptance, ready to tackle the job at hand before thinking about the next break.

Zinc and McCraw, the fighters who longed to battle the Insurrection, were eerily calm. Their thirst for the fight, instead of being quenched, was redirected towards a new enemy.

Griffin finally spoke, his voice somber. "As of now, we are gathering what forces we can. The main fleet under The Orion will be going to Harvest to send these bastards back where they belong. The task force gathered with the carriers and the capital ships will be deploying to several outer colonies to prepare them for these aliens. They will ensure we will have reinforcements once this conflict increases in intensity."

"What will befall Andesia?" Raven asked, causing many of the captains in the room to look to her before looking back at Griffin.

"Andesia will become a Fortress World, records will be hidden to ensure this alien presence is not aware of the armament of the planetary defenses. As for The URF and UEG, they will be too focused on the alien presence or each other to notice the real threat on the horizon. We are taking the fight to the enemy and

The weight of Griffin's words hung heavily in the room. The situation had just escalated, and now they were going into a war that no one knew was coming.

Orenski, taking the charge for the squad, walked forward in her Sentinel Armor. Griffin could see with her body movements that she was taking the initiative, ready to fight.

"What are your orders, sir?"

James Ackerson

Reach, Unknown location

July 21st, 2525

In a sterile, dimly lit office adorned with the emblems of the UNSC, Colonel James Ackerson sat before a sprawling holographic display. The intricate interface projected multiple live feeds from the distant testing site on Algolis. On the screens, the HRUNTING/YGGDRASIL Mark I ADS, a towering, mechanized exoskeleton, maneuvered with surprising agility across a mock battlefield, demonstrating its capabilities.

Algolis, a planet known for its manufacturing and testing facilities, was the perfect venue for such a demonstration. In one of the feeds, the ADS took on a series of targets with an impressive display of firepower, decimating each one with precision. In another, it navigated challenging terrains, illustrating its versatility on various battlefronts.

Ackerson's eyes darted from one feed to another, his face betraying no emotion, though inside, he was rife with anticipation. The Mark I, if successful, had the potential to be a game-changer on the battlefield, providing an overwhelming advantage to UNSC forces.

Yet, as the tests proceeded, Ackerson's attention was also divided. His mind wandered back to the ongoing issues with the SPARTAN-II program and its overseer, Dr. Catherine Halsey. The competition between their programs was fierce, each offering unique advantages and solutions to the challenges faced by the UNSC.

He leaned forward, accessing the performance metrics of the Mark I. Everything, from its power consumption and armor integrity to its combat efficiency, was laid out in intricate graphs and charts. As he analyzed the data, the realization of just how transformational this tech could be slowly dawned on him.

His greater moments were soon interrupted by a message alert. Flicking a button on the console, a communication window popped up, revealing the face of a field officer stationed at Algolis.

"Colonel Ackerson," the officer saluted, "The Mark I's performance is exceeding initial projections. We believe, with some minor refinements, we can push its capabilities even further."

Ackerson nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Excellent. Continue the tests and keep me posted on any developments."

Ackerson's fingers glided over the touch-sensitive surface of his console, smoothly transitioning the display from the live feeds of the HRUNTING/YGGDRASIL tests to images and schematics of the Sentinel Armor developed by Atlas. The sleek design of the armor filled the screen, overlaid with annotations detailing its advanced capabilities and innovative features.

The Sentinel Armor, while conceptually different from the HRUNTING/YGGDRASIL, had clearly been influenced by his work. Its design streamlined for operations in space, it was a masterpiece of military engineering — the perfect synthesis of advanced materials, onboard AI integration, and ergonomic design. The armor, with its sleek appearance, was designed for maximum mobility and protection, utilizing state-of-the-art composite materials to offer superior resilience against ballistic and energy-based threats.

His lips curled into a half-smile as he pondered the irony. While he and Dr. Halsey had often been at odds, working in different spheres with differing philosophies, here was a mega-corporation like Atlas integrating and leveraging his research, bypassing bureaucratic hurdles to rapidly deploy advancements to the field.

The next screen brought up his financials, showing a series of substantial credit transfers from Atlas. The sums were staggering. Beyond just compensation for his intellectual contribution, it was clear that Atlas recognized the strategic value of his research. This influx of funds had greatly bolstered his projects, allowing him to expand, recruit top talent, and access resources that would have otherwise been beyond his reach.

Ackerson leaned back, taking a moment to bask in a sense of validation. His work, which had once faced scrutiny and skepticism from certain quarters of the UNSC, was now not only being recognized but becoming foundational to the next generation of combat systems. The balance of power and influence was shifting.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chime from his terminal. A new message had arrived. The chime from the terminal drew Ackerson's immediate attention back to the screen, his brows furrowing as he discerned the alert's significance. It displayed real-time traffic movement on the high-priority orbital grids — usually reserved for major UNSC maneuvers or situations of extreme urgency.

But what he saw was unprecedented.

The Orion flagship, a symbol of UNSC power and prestige, took center stage on the grid. Around it, a massive formation of Halcyon Class Cruisers, their distinct profiles easily recognizable even from the condensed strategic view, were shifting into position. As he zoomed in on the display, he could see the coruscating ripples of slipspace portals beginning to form, the cruisers aligning themselves for a coordinated jump. Such a display of naval power was rare outside of war exercises or major deployments.

But there was more.

To the west quadrant of the Orion, another group of icons drew his attention. Atlas-held capital ships and carriers, distinguished from the standard UNSC designs by their custom sigils and designations. They were also aligning for a slipspace jump, but their trajectories suggested a different destination from the Orion and its escorting fleet.

His hands swiftly danced over the console, seeking more information. Fleet composition, last known orders, destination projections – every bit of data he could pull. But the details were either classified or not readily available from his current clearance. The only certainty was the two distinct slipstream trails that soon marked their respective exits from the orbital grid.

Ackerson's mind raced. The Orion fleet's deployment could be a standard operation, though the scale suggested otherwise. But Atlas moving a significant force simultaneously? That was no coincidence. This megacorporation, with its deep pockets and expansive reach, was making a statement.

He activated a comms link. "Lieutenant Wells," he said sharply, the connection instantly bringing his aide into focus on the adjacent screen. "I need a full report on fleet movements in the last twenty-four hours, especially any pertaining to the Orion and Atlas formations."

Wells, ever efficient, nodded crisply. "Right away, sir. I'll gather what I can."

Ackerson's eyes narrowed on his terminal, tracking the myriad of fleet movements. Particularly, he noticed the distinct formation of Atlas ships. Their trajectory toward Harvest was clear. Without any accompanying UNSC vessels, this unilateral movement was alarming. He swiftly initiated a communication link, directly connecting to Patrick Weller.

The CEO of Atlas, always poised and collected, appeared on the screen, sharpness evident in his eyes.

"Ackerson," Weller greeted, with a slight nod.

"Patrick," Ackerson responded, his tone firm. "I'm seeing a significant mobilization of Atlas assets heading directly towards Harvest. What are you doing?"

Weller took a moment before replying, choosing his words carefully. "James, our intelligence division intercepted alarming data pointing towards a hostile alien presence on Harvest. The company made the call to act swiftly, and I fully supported the decision."

"And you didn't think to involve us?" Ackerson's voice rose slightly.

Weller's expression remained resolute. "Every second we debate protocol, more lives are potentially lost. The priority is, and always will be, to ensure the protection of human lives. Atlas has dispatched the fleet with dual objectives: rescue any survivors and counter this unidentified threat. This is about the preservation of humanity, not about another occupation."

Ackerson's brow furrowed. "Harvest is UEG territory, Patrick."

Weller didn't waver. "I'm aware. But in this evolving scenario, we felt an immediate response was paramount. We have the capabilities and the resources. We will act."

Ackerson's eyes glinted, a mixture of concern and calculation. "Patrick, I admire your dedication to humanity, but you must remember the political realities we're in. Your opponents would love nothing more than to see Atlas falter, especially in a situation like this. They've been looking for an excuse to undermine your position and seize control."

Patrick leaned back in his chair, the weight of the decisions he'd made evident on his features. "I'm aware of the political sharks circling around, James. But this is bigger than corporate politics."

Ackerson leaned in, emphasizing his point. "It's not just about the corporate power struggle. The UEG won't hesitate to intervene if they see Atlas overstepping its boundaries. They could legitimize a hostile takeover of your company, hand it over to your rivals, all under the guise of maintaining 'security and order'. You're playing with fire here."

Patrick took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. "Sometimes, to bring light to the darkness, one must play with fire. Harvest is that darkness right now, and I won't stand by idly while people are in danger. Atlas was built on the promise of protecting humanity, and that's what I intend to let the company I built do."

Ackerson exhaled slowly. "I respect your commitment, Patrick. But just remember, battles aren't only fought in space and on distant colonies. The political arena can be just as brutal. Be prepared for what comes next, I can't be always protecting you."

Weller nodded appreciatively, "Thank you, Ackerson. Your counsel is always valued. Just know that when the dust settles on Harvest, whatever the outcome, Atlas didn't simply stay behind and let innocent lives be snuffed out."

Griffin Phoenix

Flagship: Orion, En Route to Harvest

July 22nd, 2525

The observatory deck gleamed under the faint luminescence of distant stars, their shimmering presence weaving patterns against the backdrop of infinite blackness. Griffin, encased in the imposing silhouette of his Sentinel Armor, stood at the forefront, lost in the vastness of the universe.

As the door slid open with a soft hiss, Raven's figure appeared, momentarily framed against the muted light outside. She took a few hesitant steps inside, the weight of the situation evident in her posture.

Without needing to turn, Griffin's voice, slightly muffled from within the confines of his helmet, resonated in the otherwise silent space. "You've been distant since the briefing. Are you feeling okay?"

Raven paused, gathering her thoughts before finally responding. "All my life, my fight was against the UEG. It was about gaining independence for Andesia. This..." She motioned vaguely towards the stars, her voice tinged with a mix of fear and disbelief, "Aliens? The threat of extinction? This was never the battle I prepared for."

Griffin turned to face her, his helmet's dark visor betraying no emotion, but his voice softened in understanding. "None of us saw this coming, Raven. But our cause, our fight for Andesia, it's all part of the bigger picture. Our planet, our people—they're part of this universe, and now we need to defend our place in it."

She exhaled deeply, her eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I know. It's just... overwhelming. The stakes have changed so drastically."

He stepped closer, trying to bridge the distance between them. "Our core values haven't, though. We still fight for our people, for a future. Just... the battlefield has expanded."

"Ever since that briefing, you've spoken with an authority and weight that doesn't align with your rank. You're just a Cadet. Why do you sound like a battle-hardened commander?"

Griffin turned slowly to face her, the visor of his helmet capturing her reflection. "Raven, sometimes experiences aren't solely shaped by time spent on the battlefield. Some burdens weigh heavy, demanding a maturity and understanding beyond what's expected."

She tilted her head, eyes searching his. "But this isn't normal. Even seasoned officers aren't speaking the way you are. What gives you this perspective, this conviction?"

He sighed, pausing for a moment before answering. "I've always believed in rising to the demands of the moment. The galaxy doesn't pause, waiting for us to be seasoned enough to respond. We either step up, regardless of our rank, or we falter."

Raven looked pensive. "My whole life was about challenging the UEG, fighting for Andesia's independence. I never imagined contending with unknown aliens and the threat of extinction. But listening to you... it feels like there's hope."

Griffin turned his body fully towards Raven, the ambient starlight reflecting off his Sentinel Armor, momentarily making him appear ethereal.

"I've done my homework, Raven," Griffin began, his tone even. "I know about your past, about the choices you made, the things you stood for. And frankly, I don't care about it in the way you might think."

Raven looked taken aback, her defenses instantly rising. "Why bring it up then?"

Griffin continued, his voice steady, "Because it's important for you to know that what matters to me now, in this moment, is not our pasts but our present and our potential future. We are on the precipice of an unprecedented crisis. What I care about is having people by my side who are willing to stand up and do what's right."

Raven's eyes softened slightly, but she remained guarded. "That's all well and good, but what makes you think you can trust me?"

He shrugged, "It's not about blind trust. It's about recognizing the spirit of a fighter. The UEG and the colonial authority mishandled the Insurrection. Grossly. The divide, the resentment, the endless skirmishes—they're all evidence of their failures. And if they dare step in our way now, when the survival of humanity is at stake, I won't hesitate to tackle them head-on."

She blinked in surprise, her eyebrows rising. "You'd go up against the might of the UNSC? That's... bold."

Griffin leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "It's not about being bold. It's about doing what's necessary. If the UNSC impedes our path to survival, then they're just another obstacle to be dealt with."

Raven studied him for a moment, a mix of admiration and uncertainty in her eyes. "You truly are an enigma, Cadet."

As Griffin and Raven exchanged words, the hissing sound of the room's doors opening interrupted their intense conversation. A large figure stepped into the chamber, his towering height and enormous physique immediately commanding attention.

The figure was Evan Shatter, or as most in Atlas had begun to call him, 'Titan's Wrath.' The name wasn't just for show. Shatter was a true titan, an ODST who had survived the most brutal of battles. His body was now more machine than man, a result of extensive medical treatment and cyborg enhancements provided by Atlas after a near-death experience on the battlefield.

His frame was a heavily modified YGGDRASIL model, a towering fusion of metal and circuitry. Two sets of interface plugs were visible on his cybernetic body, with a visible chip slot. His eyes glowed faintly in the room's dim light, part of an advanced optics suite that boasted low-light and thermograph capabilities, along with a targeting scope. Antennae sprouted subtly from the back of his metallic skull, hinting at the advanced cyberaudio capabilities. His arms, ending in menacing wolvers, were the embodiment of lethal efficiency.

Shatter's voice rumbled throughout the room like a controlled avalanche, full of authority and tempered by countless battles. "Well, if it isn't the eloquent Cadet Griffin," he said with a grin that showed off his metal teeth. "I gotta say, I like your words, kid. Sounds like something a ruthless son of a bitch would say, and I respect that. Commanders who get to the point, no matter how young or inexperienced, they're my kind of people."

Griffin, despite his Sentinel Armor, felt dwarfed by Evan's intimidating presence. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. "Titan's Wrath, it's an honor," he began, nodding in respect. "Atlas doesn't just rebuild warriors, it seems. It reforges legends."

Shatter chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. "Legends? Fancy title for someone who's just trying to get the job done. But thanks for the compliment. Heard a lot about you, too. You're making waves for someone who's technically still in training."

Griffin squared his shoulders. "Training or not, when the threat's at your doorstep, titles and ranks don't matter much. It's the will to act that counts. If a 'ruthless son of a bitch' attitude helps keep humanity alive, then I'll wear that title with pride."

Evan studied Griffin for a moment, his cyborg eyes scanning the younger man intently. "Good answer. The UNSC might have their hierarchy and their protocols, but out here, in the real world, we need fighters with guts and the brains to back it up. Seems you've got both."

Raven, having observed their interaction silently, cleared her throat. "This isn't a mutual admiration society, gentlemen. There's a situation at hand."

Griffin nodded in agreement. "Right. We need to prepare. But it's good to know we have titans among us when the storm hits."

Evan smiled, that gleam of camaraderie again evident. "Count on it."

The room's atmosphere shifted as another figure entered the observatory deck. Jack Sterling, easily recognizable from his military photo, strolled into the room with an air of casual indifference. His piercing eyes scanned the room as he leaned against the door frame, the metallic gleam of his cybernetic left hand catching the light.

The 'Chromium Bard', as he was called in Atlas circles, casually flipped a custom-modified pistol in his human hand. His reputation had a life of its own, stories of his haunting ballads from the war spreading like wildfire among the ranks. His demeanour, however, was far from the haunted war veteran many had imagined. Instead, Jack carried a 'don't give a fuck' attitude, looking more like he'd been interrupted from a quality evening of leisure than called to a military briefing.

With an exaggerated sigh, Jack raised an eyebrow at the assembled group. "So, they yank me away from a perfectly good evening of booze and beauties to babysit a bunch of trainees? Must be one hell of a party."

Griffin took in the newcomer, recognizing the bravado as a front for a man who had seen too much. "Sterling," he greeted, offering a nod. "Seems we're all being called up."

"Seems so," Jack replied, rolling his eyes. "Guess the universe doesn't care about my social schedule."

Evan let out a rumble of a laugh. "I think we can all agree that's a damn shame, Sterling." Jack just shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, the metallic hand glinting ominously. His casual air contrasted sharply with the tension in the room, yet, strangely enough, it also diffused it.

Griffin stood up, pulling up a holographic interface from a nearby console. The room dimmed slightly as he started to explain, "I'm sure you're wondering why we've gathered some of Atlas's finest in one room."

Evan smirked, "Modesty not on today's agenda, is it?"

Ignoring the quip, Griffin continued, "Have any of you seen the recent combat footage from Harvest?"

All three of them nodded, with Sterling adding a sharp, "Hard to miss."

"Then you've seen the chaos. The unknowns. The alien force that we never saw coming."

Griffin's fingers danced over the holographic interface, isolating an image of a massive alien ship, then zooming in to focus on an imposing Brute leader, standing a head taller than his cohorts and wielding that fearsome hammer-like tech stick.

"That right there," Griffin motioned to the ship, "is our first target. We disable that ship, make our way inside, and..." he then shifted focus to the Brute leader, "we take out these bastards. Starting with him."

Jack whistled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Boarding an alien ship to take out their big guy? Just another Tuesday, huh?"

Raven's eyes narrowed. "And how exactly do we plan to 'disable' a ship of that magnitude?"

Evan interjected, his voice calm and analytical, "That's a capital ship. Assuming their tech is anything like ours, they'll have countermeasures, shields, anti-boarding systems..."

Griffin nodded, acknowledging the challenge. "That's correct. But we have something they don't: the element of surprise. They might not expect an aggressive boarding action, especially when they seem to be the dominant force right now."

Sterling adjusted his cybernetic hand with a metallic whir. "So, we catch them off guard, get inside, and then what? Party?"

Griffin smirked, "Something like that. We go room by room if we have to. Our mission is to sow chaos, gather intel, and eliminate high-value targets. That Brute," he pointed again to the leader, "is priority number one."

Evan, always one step ahead, mused, "And if we get our hands on their tech or intel that could give us an advantage?"

"All the better," Griffin replied. "But remember, we're going in outnumbered and outgunned. So we have to be swift, efficient, and ruthless."

Raven met Griffin's eyes. "Sounds like just another day for Atlas."

Griffin grinned, "Then let's make sure it's a day they'll never forget."

Fleetmaster Nizat 'Kvarosee

Pious Rampage, Control Room

9th Age of Reclamation

Deep within the confines of the Pious Rampage's control room, the grandeur of the Covenant reflected in the vast array of holographic displays and the luminescent blues casting silhouettes across the chamber. Positioned on the raised platform at the center, Fleetmaster Nizat 'Kvarosee observed the data that flowed through the screens – star maps, intercepted human communications, and fleet movements, all revealing the intricate interplay of humanity's frantic struggles.

One cluster of data, however, intrigued him: a human faction known as "Atlas". Unlike the disorganized and seemingly desperate attempts of the rest of humanity, this group showed a rapid development, an organized resistance, and proactive defense mechanisms.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft, floating approach of the Minor Minister of Artifact Survey, a representative of the revered San'Shyuum. As the Minister neared, the Sangheili officers in the vicinity showed a muted reverence, heads bowing slightly in acknowledgment of the San'Shyuum's esteemed position within the Covenant hierarchy.

"Fleetmaster 'Kvarosee," the Minister greeted with a tone that, although polite, carried a hint of supremacy. "Your fleet has done commendable work in its campaign against the humans."

Nizat bowed, "Your Excellence, it is our duty to serve the Covenant and its Prophets."

The Minister continued, "However, I'm curious about your interest in this 'Atlas' faction. Are they of any significant threat?"

'Kvarosee responded cautiously, "They appear to be unlike other human groups. Their rapid response and the way they organize suggests a deeper understanding and perhaps a greater threat. Our listener devices have picked up significant traffic related to them."

The Minister raised an eyebrow, intrigued, "Interesting. Such adaptability in these humans."

"Yes," 'Kvarosee added. "I've also been utilizing the listener devices to trace human ship movements, hoping to pinpoint more of their colonies."

The Minister nodded, "A wise course of action, Fleetmaster. However, ensure that our primary mission is not forgotten. The Great Journey waits for none."

"Of course, Your Excellence," 'Kvarosee bowed deeper this time, "The Covenant's goals are paramount."

As the Minister drifted away, Nizat's gaze refocused on the screens, pondering over the enigma that was Atlas and the importance of the data he hoped to uncover.

A chime sounded urgently, reverberating across the bridge, pulling Fleetmaster Nizat 'Kvarosee from his thoughts. Holographic displays flickered with new information. A significant mobilization from this new faction, Atlas, was detected heading towards Harvest.

"Report," 'Kvarosee demanded, his gaze fixed on the display.

A Sangheili operator, his mandibles twitching with unease, responded, "Fleetmaster, Atlas forces are mobilizing towards Harvest. They've detected an 'alien' vessel in orbit and are preparing to engage."

A look of confusion crossed 'Kvarosee's features. "Atlas? A faction unknown to us. Yet they move with such purpose."

The Minor Minister of Artifact Survey approached, curiosity evident in his eyes. "What's this about an 'alien' vessel, Fleetmaster?"

'Kvarosee gestured to the displays, "This unknown human faction, Atlas, speaks of an 'alien' ship. But by the readings, it's one of ours."

The Minister's eyes narrowed, "These heretics have grown bolder. They now turn their gaze upon our vessels, thinking them to be some other alien menace?"

A Sangheili specialist, monitoring the listener devices, stepped in, "Their ignorance is evident, Fleetmaster. They plan to board and disable this 'alien' vessel. Their intentions are clear in their communications."

A nearby Shipmaster remarked, disdain evident in his tone, "Heretical humans boarding a Covenant ship? Their audacity knows no bounds."

Fleetmaster 'Kvarosee growled in agreement, "Yet we must not underestimate them. These 'Atlas' could be a new threat, one we didn't foresee."

The Minister nodded, "Gather all available intelligence on this faction. And prepare our fleet. We cannot allow these heretics to stain the sanctity of our vessels."

Nizat bowed in acknowledgment, "As you command, Your Excellence."

John-117

UNSC Cargo Freighter Nabal

August 4th, 2525

"Blue Team, status." The towering size of the armored Spartan spoke within the inner halls of the Commercial Freighter. Much had been known about John as he took quick stock of the number of entry points that an intruding force would use to breach the ship's hull. Even the multi-layered casing that the freighter model held would not be enough with the history over how Harvest's initial engagement went with an unknown hostile faction encountered by a couple of UNSC ONI operatives.

With how well the war had shifted in their favor, John would have expected this to be a training operation. Yet, without the guiding hand of a specialist, the advise of Halsey, and the lack of details before an operation; John was not all too happy with being fed high-risk missions without the filler. Wiping out entire URF regiments and tasked on the hunt for Harper Garvin had done nothing for the Spartan except keep the young man on the lookout for his team and fellow Spartan companions.

"Fred-104 in position." Fred replied in communication. His combat knives were swiftly tightened in place and his shotgun was mag-locked onto his back. The armored tactician stood nearby the black box of the ship and waited for John to give the word when everything was settled into place.

"Kelly-087 in position." Kelly spoke in the comms. She was prepped in her ambush sites and chokepoints in the ship. No corner was left unchecked, and no spot was left uncovered. Whatever enemy they were going to expect, she would not go in blind. John's word was final, a lasting reminder before she hauled herself for the team.

"Linda-058 in position." Linda whispered. She was ready in finding the quick and easy spots of the ship that allowed her to maximize her sniper rifle's effectiveness. Nothing would escape her sight, even as Linda mocked with a shotgun in her hands.

"Samuel-034 in position." The tall and strong Spartan spoke as he stood beside the Chief. He was the most prepared and ready out of the entire team except John himself. Nothing stopped the young man from taking his place within the confines of their team. They were here for a mission that ranked higher than the URF itself.

On the motion trackers inside John's vision, he would soon see the pings of fifty remote devices on the network responding to the status report.

"Those droids give me the creeps." Sam commented, looking at the metallic humanoid figures. They were definitely droids by design, combat droids by default. The size of the combat unit was humanoid by figure, height, and capacity. Similar architecture configurations listed their overall looks to be very similar to ODST's, with prototype rifles to boot their use in combat. These rifles were listed as 'Battle Rifles' by comparison, a use Blue Team may find in this mission.

John merely looked to the side and darted a glance at three of the nearby metallic containers on the other side of the hallway. He could see the combat droids were simply awaiting sensor readings to turn on and engage with what they were tasked to complete. Something about this mission felt off and the rest of Blue Team knew it. There was so much information that would provide mission critical objectives… and all that John was given was to wait in the cargo freighter and prepare for boarding.

Boarding by what, he would soon find out.

In that moment, a thud would rock the Spartans where they stood as something shocked the deck. In seconds, however, the ship hit a round and the ship's systems powered off completely. It was as if the reactor was hit with a deactivation command by its rapid breakdown. Following the shutdown of many systems, John would turn on his helmet's VISOR and speak within the comms.

"Blue Team, prepare for boarders, activate mag boots." He ordered. The acknowledgment flickers in his motion tracker pinged Blue Team's response. Due to the possibility that the hostile force was most likely prepared for small arms fire, John locked his weapon and prepared for enemy activity.

It was what came next that surprised John. The moment when the lights went out and the reactor deactivated, the combat droids started to activate all throughout the ship. He could see the friendly movement in his motion tracker gathering into several blobs of animatronic sounds clanking in the metallic floors a distance away. It was as if the ship's power going out activated them.

However, John didn't have a moment to realize this fundamental truth when the bay doors latched onto something. In moments, there was a spark in the middle of the hatch that leaked molten plasma and began to spread to the horizontal section of the panel. Seeing this, John silently motioned Sam and Fred to back up before the door opened.

This move proved to be a valid option when the bay door violently blew open in a splash of plasma, smoke, and bent metal all over the frontal entrance to the docking platform. What came out from the hole were lanky, bulky, and masked creatures that hissed into the moldy entrance. John took a second to observe the strange creatures emerging from the entrance, before he aimed his MA5D Assault Rifle and unloaded on the creatures.

From his vantage point, five of the orange armored bulky cretins fell to the ground with a pool of puffy cyan blood oozing onto the floor. When the initial assault was completed, five of the combat droids rushed to the entrance with raised rifles at the opening. In a split second, the combat units rushed through the entrance at breakneck speeds in order to cross the bridge that connected to the alien construct.

"Blue Team, follow the droids. Treat anything not human as hostile. Kelly, you take the rear. Linda, you're looking after the droids. Fred, cover corners. Sam, you're with me." John ordered, soon taking up the mantle and pushed past the dead mounds of corpses and started moving forward into the bridge. The alien connectors that brushed into the freighter looked slick, smooth, and violet in coloration. Glows of alien symbols and dim lighting only caused the Spartan to further document the environment with his cam recorder before pressing ahead.

Crossing the entrance into the alien vessel, John soon heard the crack of gunfire as the combat units pinpointed enemy movement and dropped even uglier creatures onto the ground. He could very well see that these creatures were reptile in nature and held energy gauntlets on their arms. The items they dropped were very much a curiosity, but with the motion tracker detecting a scrambling of dozens of rapidly moving targets, John looked to the three possible hallways and motioned to his team to move forward.

However, when he looked into the tunnel, not only were his team behind him; but there was a mass of the combat units backing their rear. It seemed all fifty of the combat droids were gathered together for one mission. And it very much clicked inside Chief's mind the second it came to him:

Capture the alien vessel for ONI experimentation.

Due to the quick reaction to the situation at hand, Chief pointed to Kelly, motioning her to cover this entrance. He soon looked to Fred and motioned him to take the center, Sam with Linda to take the right, and himself to the left. It was at that moment, he looked at one of the combat droids and spoke into the comms.

"Split into separate groups, cover more ground and kill anything not human." Chief ordered, holstering his rifle and aiming it directly into his hall. Five of the combat units followed Chief's orders and moved ahead of the Spartan with raised rifles. At this, more of the strange creatures popped off from the corners of the distant halls and the combat units took out the reptiles and the scrawny bulky creatures with short bursts from their rifles. One burst to the head took them out swiftly, hitting the gauntlet and then a final burst to the head.

"Linda will be upset with their accuracy on this mission." John thought to himself as he would begin making his trek forward through the halls with five combat units to the front and five to the back. With the precision of their numbers and ability to scan for potential hostile activity, taking out the non-shielded hostiles were simple to wipe from the field.

Time to capture a ship.

PS: While I was in the middle of completing and submitting this chapter for publication, I was witness to a verbal altercation between a social worker and an elderly patient that was close to fists being thrown and some people being escorted out by cops. What the hell is this world coming to?

On the other hand, I did get Baldur's Gate 3 and wow, that game is certainly affecting how I DM D&D campaigns and even how I am going to write down the next series of chapters!