1150 Hours, December 12, 2544 (Military Calendar)
Sol System, Earth, Sydney, Australia
The single overhead light buzzed faintly, casting harsh, sterile rays over the room. Its illumination highlighted every scuff on the steel table, every scratch on the walls, and the faint smudge of ash on Lance Corporal Ashley Nguyen's forearms. She sat stiffly in an uncomfortable metal chair, her posture rigid, as if defiance could armor her against the cold, prying gaze of the man across from her.
Ashley had shed her imposing ODST armor, now clad in a simple olive-green tank top that fit snugly against her athletic frame. The military-issued coveralls were tied loosely around her waist, the relaxed fit hinting at her toned legs beneath. Her dog tags rested against her chest, catching the light as they swayed gently with her movements. Her hands bore a faint sheen of grease, a testament to hours of maintenance work in the barracks, adding a rugged edge to her otherwise composed demeanor. Even the now-lukewarm coffee before her, its flavors muted, failed to distract from the quiet intensity that seemed to linger in the air..
Across the table, the Intelligence Officer loomed as little more than a silhouette, shrouded in shadow. His voice, when it came, was calm and smooth, an unsettling contrast to the tension hanging in the room.
"Martian Mavericks had a good season this year," he began, his tone conversational. The words hung in the air like a trap, deliberately disarming.
Ashley's gaze flicked up, her dark eyes narrowing. "I didn't peg you for a Mavericks fan."
The officer chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "Oh, I'm not. But taking the Titan Comets to extra innings in the championship? Even I have to admit, impressive."
Ashley let her eyes drift back to the table. Baseball. She hadn't thought about the sport in months, maybe longer. The war didn't leave room for such luxuries, and she wasn't the type to cling to them. Yet the officer's words stirred something faint—a memory of normalcy buried under layers of ash and blood.
"Comets have a weak bullpen," she muttered, her voice low, guarded.
"Still took the Mavericks six games," the officer countered, leaning back in his chair. His movements were deliberately slow, controlled, like a predator playing with its prey.
Ashley shrugged, her jaw tightening. "Doesn't matter when you're stuck on the front line, does it?"
"No, I suppose it doesn't," the officer replied, his tone as detached as before. "But distractions can be useful. Let's call that the warm-up. Now, Corporal, let's talk about Ambrila IV."
Her fingers twitched, drumming lightly on the table's edge before curling into a loose fist. Her gaze dropped to the untouched coffee. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," the officer said, his voice dipping into something colder. "Start from the beginning."
Ashley exhaled sharply, her frustration evident. "It was a standard Torch and Burn op. At least, that's what we were told. Get in, retrieve or destroy UNSC assets before the Covenant got their hands on them. Simple. Routine."
"And the evac order for the colony?"
"Came down just before we deployed," she replied flatly. "The planet was done the moment the Covenant showed up. Civilians were already pulling out when we landed. We figured we'd do our job and be back fighting the big fight in a couple of days."
"But that's not what happened."
"No," she said bitterly, her tone sharpening. "They handed us over to an ONI spook before we even hit dirt. That's when we knew it wasn't going to be a simple job."
The officer leaned forward slightly, though the shadows still cloaked his features. "The spook. Tell me about them."
Ashley hesitated. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her hands against her thighs. "Didn't get a proper name. They didn't talk much. Big. Quiet. Wore black armor—not standard issue, not even for us. They moved… differently. We thought they might be a Spartan."
"Might have been?" The officer's tone sharpened slightly, probing.
She shrugged, her lips thinning into a tight line. "They didn't say anything to confirm it, but… the way they moved, the way they handled themselves, it wasn't normal. We're ODSTs. We've seen plenty, but this one? No hesitation. No fear."
"And their presence," the officer pressed. "It didn't sit well with your squad."
Ashley let out a dry, humorless laugh. "ODSTs don't like surprises, especially not ONI ones. My squad, we joked about it—said we were probably being sent to die so the spook could grab whatever shiny toy ONI wanted. Turns out, we weren't far off."
The officer didn't respond immediately, letting the silence hang between them like a blade suspended by a thread. Ashley stared down at the table, her fingers idly tracing a scratch in the metal.
"When did you realize the mission was more than a 'routine operation'?"
Her jaw tightened, the muscles working as she chewed on the question. "The moment he boarded our ship," she said quietly. "He didn't say a word, just stood there while the lieutenant gave us the briefing. Standard sweep-and-clear, she said. But we could feel it—something was off. And the spook? He didn't have to say anything. You could see it in his stance. He knew something we didn't."
Her voice softened, her gaze growing distant. "That was the day everything changed. The day we realized we weren't coming back the same."
The officer's pen tapped lightly against the table, the sound rhythmic and measured. "But you went through with it anyway."
Ashley looked up, her eyes sharp and defiant. "What choice did we have? Orders are orders."
The officer nodded slowly, leaning back into the shadows. "Then let's talk about the operation itself. From the beginning."
Ashley took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as the tension crept back into them. The memories she had tried to bury surged forward, vivid and unrelenting.
"It started the moment we hit the surface…"