Dust and Echoes

by trestwho

After a successful mission, a UNSC fleet makes a random slipspace jump only to come across an uncharted system containing a sliver of humanity, one with seemingly no connection to Earth and whose natural abilities defy reason. In a galaxy full of terrifying dangers, the UNSC and Remnant must work together to defend all they know from annihilation.

31. A Path Forward

Dust and Echoes (RWBY/Halo)

Chapter 30: A Path Forward

[~][~]

Reach (Epsilon Eridani II), Epsilon Eridani System

Reach City, Viery Territory

July 10th, 2541, 0630 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

"Mr. Branwen, in accordance with UNSC military protocol, we are obligated to inform you as to the purpose of our meeting," the man sitting on the other side of a small metal table across from Qrow announced. At the same time, he pressed a button on a small green box resting in the middle of the table. A voice recorder, Qrow assumed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a debriefing is. I've been through this song and dance before," Qrow dismissed with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes.

At the same time, he quickly studied the three individuals in front of him, all of whom were wearing identical black uniforms with the Office of Naval Intelligence logo proudly displayed on their chests. None of them had any scars that Qrow could see, and their hair was neatly combed and brushed, but all in all there wasn't anything particularly noteworthy about them aside from the fact that they weren't wearing any other form of identification. They were currently in what Qrow could only assume was an interrogation room, that being a small, barebones cube with no access to natural light whatsoever. Pale fluorescent lamps mounted to the ceiling cast the dark-colored room in an eerie tone, and in the corner he could see a small camera mounted to the wall.

His mind briefly went back to what he'd experienced so far on Reach. The Midsummer Night had exited slipspace at the edge of the Epsilon Eridani system a few hours before, which was when he and the rest of the ship were taken out of cryo. The planet itself was impressive. Larger than Remnant, the surface was covered mostly by a massive saltwater ocean that stretched across the equator. Craters from ancient asteroid impacts dotted the surface, many of which had filled with water to become large seas. Most of the landmass appeared to be in the northern hemisphere, and the largest cities on the colony were located along the equatorial line. Two moons orbited the planet, one of which had rings for some reason, and Reach's magnetic poles were girdled by aurorae. Qrow had to admit, it was quite beautiful.

But more important than the physical characteristics of the planet was what orbited it. Namely, the single largest fleet he had ever seen. Hundreds of UNSC vessels, ranging from frigates and destroyers to carriers and cruisers, patrolled across the entire system. If one left, another was already en-route to replace it. Supplying this massive fleet were eighteen refit stations, including the one that the Midsummer Night ultimately docked on called Anchor 9. In addition to the spacecraft, there were also thousands of nuclear mines throughout the system, forming a stellar minefield that the Midsummer Night was able to safely traverse. Alongside the refit stations were around twenty orbital defense platforms. Shakespeare called them the Erőd-class, each one armed with a Super MAC that was powerful enough to punch completely through even the strongest Covenant shields and armor in a single hit. The only drawback was that the power requirements were so great that it had to be beamed up from the ground-based generators via laser.

Already he was hoping that Remnant would be able to get a few of those, or at least the smaller Moncton-class stations that apparently didn't need a ground-based power source at the expense of a smaller main gun, and wished that Peponi had some as well. Maybe then the fate of the planet would've been different. Regardless, he didn't have long to marvel at the planet's defenses before he and all the other able-bodied Huntsmen were shuttled down to the planet surface, with the injured taken to a military hospital. They were taken to a place called WHITE TOWER on Reach City, which apparently was the home base of the UNSC presence on Reach, which itself served as the nexus point for the UNSC's entire military infrastructure.

In all honesty, naming a city on Reach "Reach City" felt a bit uninspired in Qrow's opinion. But, then again, the capital of Vale was Vale City. Same with all the kingdoms of Remnant for that matter, so he probably shouldn't throw stones.

"We do not doubt your personal experience in this matter," one of the intelligence officers replied as she folded her fingers together, cutting into Qrow's thoughts and bringing him back to the present. "Be that as it may, protocol must be adhered to in times like this."

"The purpose of this debriefing, Mr. Branwen, is for us to understand exactly what happened on the colony of Peponi, along with the rest of the expedition you underwent on the UNSC Midsummer Night, commanded by Commander Jacob Keyes," the second man declared. "Let the record show that Mr. Branwen's personal conduct is not under question. Indeed, based off preliminary reports, his performance is to be commended."

"Thanks for the compliment," Qrow sarcastically said as he narrowed his eyes, not trusting them at just their word. He had been a professional Huntsman for many years, serving directly alongside Professor Ozpin and his inner circle for even longer, and he liked to think that he'd learnt how to read people. Right now, these ONI officers were starting to butter him up. For what, exactly, he didn't know.

Still, he shrugged and began to explain, "There's not much I can tell you that you haven't already heard. Where do you want me to start?"

"From the beginning, please," the first man responded, and Qrow nodded.

"Well, it all started in the wilderness of Mistral. I'm not sure where exactly my twin sister and I were born, but we were raised by some real pieces of work, let me tell ya—," Qrow slipped into the drawl he used when he acted like an annoying drunk, before he was inevitably cut off.

"Mr. Branwen, please," the woman interrupted with a pinched expression. "You know that's not what we meant. Kindly begin with the events which directly led to this expedition."

"Oh, well why didn't you just say so?" the roguish Huntsman asked innocently, managing not to smirk at the show of annoyance he managed to provoke from the blank-faced G-men. He never could resist getting a rise out of the self-serious types, which these suits certainly were even by military standards.

"All right then, after Admiral Cole arrived over Remnant and our peoples started talking, it didn't take long before your leaders told mine about the Covenant," Qrow began properly. "Needless to say, we couldn't exactly take you at your word, so it was decided that we'd send representatives to verify the threat before making any decision about entering the war. I was one of the Vale delegates."

"Yes, nominated by Professor Ozpin, the Headmaster of Beacon Academy, correct?" the woman asked.

"I was, yes," Qrow confirmed. "I've known and worked with him for years, and he wanted me to go as his personal representative."

"I see," the first man replied as he typed something into his data pad. "And what were the exact mission parameters of the expedition?"

"You already know that," Qrow pointed out. "We were supposed to go out to different planets that were invaded by the Covenant. Planets that were completely glassed, others less so, all so that we could confirm the threat."

"You mean to say that you were not supposed to engage the Covenant, correct?"

"The plan was that, if the Covenant did show up, we were to turn tail and run as fast as we could. As you can tell, things didn't work out that way."

"So it would seem," the woman dryly agreed. "Starting with the inclusion of the so-called 'Happy Huntresses.' They inserted themselves into the mission of their own accord, correct?"

Qrow nodded and replied, "They did, yeah. Don't know how they found out about it, but they stowed away on the Ace-Ops' Pelican. Nearly got shot for it, too."

Technically, May Marigold did get shot by Commander Keyes pretty much instantly, which actually impressed Qrow since not even he noticed their presence until after Keyes pulled the trigger, but he figured the interviewers understood what he meant.

"Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses were illegal stowaways on the Midsummer Night, and Commander Keyes would've been well within his rights to execute or imprison them. Instead, he let them roam free. Is that correct?"

Qrow narrowed his eyes as he began to understand where the ONI officers were going, then he said, "Yeah, they were allowed to stay. But for the entire mission they were placed under arrest. They couldn't walk five feet on the ship without an armed guard watching over them. I wouldn't call that 'roaming free.'"

"It still represents an unnecessary security risk on Commander Keyes' part, one that reflects a pattern that emerged during the mission."

If there had been any doubt in Qrow's mind as to what they wanted, it was gone now. Their mission to verify the threat of the Covenant had not gone to plan whatsoever. Sure, everyone fully understood that, whether Remnant liked it or not, they were at war with the alien hegemony. And their actions saved the lives of billions, including Remnant itself. But there had been numerous times where everyone on the ship was almost killed. The Skirmish at Khembalung. The Evacuation of Vyraj. And of course the Battle of Peponi, the last of which resulted in the deaths of three Huntsmen, the critical wounding of a fourth, and severe mental trauma to a fifth that she might not ever fully recover from.

The expedition nearly resulted in complete failure, and now the UNSC were trying to throw Commander Keyes under the bus for it. Not if he had anything to say about it. Qrow might not be a fan of militaries in general, but he liked Keyes. He was a good man, one who didn't deserve to be scapegoated.

"Commander Keyes was given a bad hand, and he made the best of it. I'd suggest you remember that," Qrow declared, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. "I certainly will, and I'll be reporting as much to my people."

[~]

"While I was initially opposed to Commander Keyes' decision to let Robyn Hill and her team onboard," Clover Ebi explained to the three ONI officers debriefing him in a private room, "not only did they prove to be a tremendous asset against the Covenant forces on Khembalung and Peponi, I was also able to recognize the logic behind it."

"And that logic would be, Mr. Ebi?" the head officer, a young woman with brown skin, pointedly asked.

Clover released a heavy sigh, then respectfully answered, "As much as I don't want to admit it, relations between the cities of Atlas and Mantle are not particularly strong. They haven't been ever since my kingdom relocated its capital from Mantle to Atlas, taking with it all the economic and political power Mantle once held and leaving it with only the scraps.

"In more ways than one, it reminded Commander Keyes of the problems plaguing the Inner and Outer Colonies prior to the onset of the Insurrection. He was hoping that, by including Robyn and her team, it would help foster stronger relations between the UNSC and Mantle while potentially reducing the risk of the growing conflict between Atlas and Mantle from exploding like the Insurrection did."

"Do you honestly believe such an armed conflict could one day occur?"

Clover paused for a moment to think, then he answered, "Before this, it's something I wouldn't have even contemplated. After what I saw on Vyraj…I can no longer guarantee that it won't."

[~]

"Ms. Khan, I must remind you that your conduct during the mission is not in question," one of the interviewers tried to say, but Sienna merely growled and cut him off.

"Yes, but Commander Keyes' is. Don't act like I don't see what you're trying to do here. I'm not stupid," Sienna declared.

"None of us insinuated that at all," the second replied, and didn't even flinch when Sienna rounded on him.

"I don't care what you were trying to insinuate, I won't stand for it," Sienna declared. "Was Robyn an idiot for sneaking on-board? Yes, absolutely. Should Commander Keyes have recognized the trap on Khembalung? Arguably, yes. But what happened on Vyraj and especially Peponi was not his fault whatsoever."

"Under Commander Keyes' leadership, three of your fellow Huntsmen, including your direct subordinate Gron Traekke, were killed in action by the Covenant," the third officer pointed out. "They were only put into that position because Commander Keyes allowed you to go into battle."

"Need I remind you that if your General hadn't jumped the gun and simply waited for Robyn and her team to get back from sabotaging the Covenant base, which was to save UNSC lives by the way, none of that would've happened," Sienna angrily countered, pointing her finger at the man's chest. "We would've been on the ship and leaving the system by the time the UNSC Army began their assault. But, instead, General Armani decided to rush things which forced our hand. Where is that son of a bitch anyway?"

"I regret to inform you that General Armani was reported killed in action when Covenant aircraft bombed his command center," the first interviewer reported, and Sienna narrowed her eyes before releasing a sigh.

Feeling her anger towards the dead man fade away, particularly since she knew his actions were driven by a genuine desire to protect his people, Sienna continued, "Either way, we weren't just going to leave our own behind. And once we secured the Cartographer and discovered what was on it, leaving was no longer an option."

[~]

"I don't regret inserting myself into the mission," Robyn declared as she leaned back in her chair while folding her arms over her chest. "The only thing I regret is that not all of us were able to come home."

"Do you believe Commander Keyes' actions contributed to their deaths?" one of the officers asked in the same forceful tone they'd given her during the entire debriefing. Robyn got the sense that they didn't like her that much. The feeling was mutual.

Robyn breathed in sharply through her nose, then she declared, "Commander Keyes had every right to kick me off his ship, to lock me in a cell and throw away the key, but he didn't. He trusted me and my teammates, trusted that our intentions were good. And we trusted him to do his best to get us all home. Not all of us did, yeah. But if it weren't for the Commander, none of us would've gotten off Peponi alive. He tried to pull us out at every turn, even while we all insisted on getting ourselves involved. Keep that in mind before trying to blame him for something that wasn't his fault."

[~]

July 11th, 2541, 1200 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

Standing in front of a mirror, Jacob Keyes looked himself over one final time. His hair was neatly combed back, his face clean-shaven, and there was not a wrinkle to be seen on his entire dress uniform. In his humble opinion, he hadn't looked this decent since he graduated from Luna OCS Academy. Of course, that had been a happy occasion, one that marked the beginning of his career with the UNSC Navy. It only seemed fitting that he'd dress the same for what would most certainly be its end.

He was under no delusions as to what was about to happen. As soon as the Midsummer Night had arrived at Reach, he'd been shuffled into one of many debriefing rooms along with the other Huntsmen and his entire crew, where the Office of Naval Intelligence began drilling them for every scrap of detail as to what happened. Not just at Peponi but during the entire mission. It had become apparent early during his debriefing that the UNSC was not happy with Keyes' performance during the expedition. Not that he blamed them. After all, he was supposed to simply carry them from glassed world to glassed world, with the occasional stop at an intact colony to resupply and conduct shore leave, all so that the people of Remnant would understand both the threat of the Covenant and the need for an alliance between them and Earth.

Instead, they had to tangle with Covenant pirates, Insurrectionists, and an entire Covenant fleet, nearly resulting in the destruction of his ship. Three of the Huntsmen – Sepia Honeycreep, Thomas Cornell, and Gron Traekke – were killed in action by the Covenant on Peponi, Casper Marine was psychologically traumatized over the loss of her teammates right in front of her, and Harriet Bree was critically injured after being struck almost directly by a ship-fired plasma mortar. She was lucky to be alive. All of those injuries, along with all the other close calls they ran into, were unacceptable. It didn't matter that they were able to secure the Cartographer's data and prevent it from falling into Covenant hands. That wasn't his mission.

His mission was to bring them all home together and in one piece. A mission he failed.

Keyes didn't know whether he was going to be simply discharged or thrown into prison. Given what secrets he knew, he might even be executed. Either way, Keyes knew his career was over, so he might as well look his best. He was many things, but a coward was not one of them. He'd look his fate right in the eyes and refuse to blink.

"Commander, High Command will see you now," a woman's voice rang out over his room's intercom.

Keyes took another deep breath then, without saying a word, turned around and exited his room. As soon as he did, he was flanked by two MPs, both armed with MA5B assault rifles and their faces completely obscured by their helmets. If they gave him a second glance, he certainly couldn't tell. Together, the three men walked silently through the halls, not a soul getting in their way. Everything seemed to flow together, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of the conference room door.

Tucking in his uniform one last time, Keyes stepped forward. The metal doors automatically slid apart as he approached, allowing him to see all the members of the UNSC Security Council seated in their chairs behind a curved table. In the center was Admiral Preston J. Cole himself, with Colonel James Ackerson and Admiral Margaret Parangosky sitting to his right and Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb and Major General Nicolas Strauss on his left.

"Commander Keyes," Admiral Cole began, his voice flat and tense.

"Admiral," Keyes replied as he stood up straighter and folded his arms behind his back.

"Enough with the pleasantries," Colonel Ackerson cut in, his voice much more venomous. "We are here to discuss the consequences of your actions during Operation: ODYSSEY. Actions that resulted in the deaths of three delegates, and the maiming of a fourth."

"Remnant trusted the UNSC to return its Huntsmen delegates back home safe and unharmed," Vice Admiral Whitcomb added. "Our potential alliance with Remnant hinged upon our ability to do so. The deaths of Huntsmen Honeycreep, Cornell, and Traekke, heroic as they may have been, threaten to upend the negotiations that have been underway for the past seven months."

"Frankly, we're fortunate that the Vacuo and Mistral expedition was carried out without incident, and that the deaths that happened under your watch were in pursuit of the Cartographer's data," General Strauss pointed out. "That means we can potentially salvage and spin this, but the fact remains that you put your VIPs in unacceptable levels of risk and danger, which threatens to keep Remnant out of the war entirely."

Keyes breathed in again through his nose, then replied, "I understand, General, and agree wholeheartedly. I accept whatever punishment the Security Council deems fit for my actions. All I will say is that, at the time, I felt that the risks we took would better serve the alliance we are trying to build."

"Yes, you said as much during your debriefing," Admiral Parangosky calmly stated, her voice somehow putting Keyes on edge more than everyone else. Glancing at a data pad, she continued, "In your words, you believed 'that by allowing the Huntsmen delegation to go into the field, it would show a level of mutual respect and trust by the UNSC to them and their people, allowing both sides to work together more easily.'"

"Yes, ma'am, and I still stand by that," Keyes declared. "I only wish that I would've been able to bring them all home safely."

Admiral Cole nodded, then leaned forward and said, "Commander Keyes, you gambled with the lives under your command. That cannot be argued. Nor can it be argued that said gambling resulted in unacceptable loss…and tremendous gain."

Keyes was somewhat taken aback by Admiral Cole's statement, but remained silent as he continued, "Yes, three Huntsmen died and a fourth was wounded due to your decision to let them go into the field and fight the Covenant, which was explicitly against mission parameters and after you had already been warned against doing so. But this Council is not ignorant as to the extenuating circumstances behind said deaths."

"Huntress Hill readily admitted that she went behind your back on her scouting mission that discovered the Covenant Fortress excavating the Cartographer," Admiral Parangosky confirmed. "The others also corroborated the reports that General Armani's hasty actions prevented their safe extraction, forcing the Midsummer Night to conduct a battlefield retrieval."

At the mention of the General's name, Keyes couldn't help but scowl. More than anyone else, he blamed the General for putting them in that position. If he had just waited a few more minutes, Casper Marine could've teleported Robyn and the others back, and they would've been gone and out of danger well before the Covenant reinforcements arrived. If he hadn't been killed in action, he'd likely attempt to punch him out, rank be damned.

Ackerson then let out a sigh while shaking his head, and added, "While I still thoroughly disapprove of your thought process, Commander, even I admit that it wasn't entirely your fault. And I also understand your decision to continue letting the Huntsmen stay on the field once it was discovered that the Cartographer had the location of Remnant on it. As far as I and the rest of this Council is concerned, once that discovery was made, Operation: ODYSSEY became a joint UNSC-Remnant operation to recover or destroy that data at all costs."

"An operation which you and your men accomplished," Admiral Whitcomb declared, his face still flat but with the hint of pride in his voice. "The Cartographer was completely destroyed, and the extraction of its data halted by the destruction of the Covenant stealth frigate by the Atlesian Ace-Ops and Task Force 141, both of which had nothing but praise for the other."

"Our AIs weren't able to recover everything, but the Office of Naval Intelligence is already going over what was recovered and assembling xenoarchaeology teams," Admiral Parangosky reported as she leaned forward. "More importantly, the destruction of the Cartographer prevented what would've been the most severe security breach of the Cole Protocol since the beginning of the war. You deserve nothing but praise for that, Commander."

Keyes nodded towards the Commander-in-Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence as he stood up straighter, then said, "Thank you, ma'am, but that still doesn't excuse the casualties we suffered."

"No, it doesn't," Admiral Cole agreed as he sat up straight in his chair. "Which brings us to our final decision. After debriefing the entire crew of the Midsummer Night and the Huntsmen delegates, as well as reviewing mission logs, you are hereby relieved of command of the Midsummer Night effective immediately. You are to be reassigned as a Navy liaison with Remnant, a position you will assume upon your return to the planet."

While Keyes absolutely expected to lose command over the Midsummer Night, getting reassigned to Remnant as a Navy liaison was not in his cards at all. Blinking a few times, he asked, "Sir, I don't understand. A liaison?"

"Yes. Apparently, you've managed to create quite an impression among the Huntsmen," General Strauss confirmed. "They liked you, and told their debriefing officers as such. Some more colorfully than others. The Security Council has decided to make use of that. You'll be helping to coordinate efforts between the UNSC and Remnant to address the security of the planet, as well as helping to bring their military forces up to par with ours."

Already Keyes had an idea as to whom those more colorful individuals were, and it took everything he had not to crack a smile. Instead, he focused on what his reassignment meant. While on the surface, it definitely appeared to be a good thing, Keyes had been in the Navy long enough to recognize it for what it was. By reassigning him from the Midsummer Night to Remnant, he was being essentially grounded, away from the front lines where he couldn't mess up anything else. His career, while not dead, was certainly stalled, and would remain that way until the UNSC deemed fit to return him to command of a ship. When that would happen, if at all, was completely unknown to him.

Part of him felt indignation at being relegated to a non-combat role, but the rest recognized it as the boon it was. This was the best possible outcome he could've asked for, and he'd be a fool not to take it.

Nodding to the councilmembers, Keyes declared, "Thank you, General. I humbly accept."

"It's not like you have much of a choice. It was either this or a court martial," Colonel Ackerson pointed out, then waved him off. "You're dismissed, Commander."

Keyes nodded towards the Colonel, then gave a salute to the members of High Command. Spinning on his heels, Keyes turned around and briskly walked away, refusing to look back at the men and women who were still focusing all of their attention onto him.

[~]

As soon as Commander Keyes exited the conference room and the doors shut, Colonel Ackerson turned towards the others and said, "I still think we should've discharged him. He's a maverick, and making him a liaison with Remnant is a recipe for disaster."

"As you've made clear numerous times, Colonel. But the fact remains that Commander Keyes is too great of an asset to just throw away," Admiral Cole replied. "I'm certain that he'll be able to effectively serve us still."

"Besides, my impression is that, outside of Atlas, the rest of Remnant won't want to work with a traditional military commander," General Strauss pointed out, then he released a sigh. "Speaking of which, negotiations seem to be going well, but I'm already noticing areas of concern."

"And that would be?" Admiral Whitcomb asked as he faced the head of the UNSC Army. Given the importance of dealing with the threat of the Grimm on the planet surface, General Strauss and the Army had been taking the lead on security negotiations alongside UEG diplomats, so aside from Admiral Parangosky he knew more about the situation on the ground at Remnant than anyone else.

"Let's start with the positives first," Strauss began. "I don't anticipate many issues with Atlas and Vale, aside from normal diplomatic friction, particularly with Vale, and Atlas' longstanding class and racial divisions. Overall, their societies are by far the most similar to ours. While only Atlas has a proper standing military, Vale has the economic and political infrastructure to quickly mobilize with our assistance. Right now, the biggest hurdle is simply going to be getting their militaries up to par with ours. Vale has a solid militia structure to build upon while Atlas has a more complete military, but preliminary observations indicate that they're using outdated tactics by our standards. Good for fighting Grimm and criminal organizations, but they'll be slaughtered by the Covenant if they use them."

"That doesn't sound too difficult," Cole admitted. "What about Mistral and Vacuo?"

"To put it simply, both of them are shitshows for entirely different reasons," Strauss confirmed. "Vacuo has no recognized standing government to negotiate and coordinate with. Their people seem almost offended by the idea of a centralized government. The closest they have is Shade Academy, and that doesn't control much outside of Vacuo City itself. Instead of just a single entity, we're having to negotiate with hundreds of separate tribes and communities, each one with their own demands and needs. Not to mention the Vacuoans themselves are, by default, hostile to foreigners swooping in and telling them what to do. Apparently, they have quite the bitter history of exploitation. As such, negotiations are proving…difficult. It's like trying to herd a bunch of cats."

"I see… What about Mistral?" Whitcomb asked, and Strauss winced.

"Mistral's entire government and security apparatus is perhaps one of the most corrupt and inefficient I have ever seen," Strauss declared, then amended, "Well, no, if that were true they wouldn't have been able to survive this long on such a deadly planet, and I've certainly seen worse from CMA management. But the closest analogue that comes to mind is the Russian Federation following the collapse of the Soviet Union in the late 20th and early 21st-centuries back on Earth. They have the most territory out of all the kingdoms on Remnant, but the further from the kingdom capital you go, the more lawless it becomes. Bandit clans are still able to roam free across much of the continent of Anima, and that's not even adding the Grimm to the equation."

"Then, of course, there's the faunus situation," Strauss added. "Anti-faunus discrimination runs rampant across Mistral, and many of their leaders are vehemently opposed to the UNSC's continued outreach with Menagerie. Mistral is by far the most racist kingdom against the faunus on Remnant. I pity Professor Lionheart who often has to deal with that by himself."

Admiral Cole frowned, and Ackerson said, "So, it sounds to me that while Atlas and Vale will simply need different levels of refinement, Mistral and Vacuo are going to require almost complete societal reorganization to bring them up to combat readiness."

"Correct," Strauss confirmed, and Ackerson already felt a migraine coming on as he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Christ… I'll have my men draft plans to assist the Army and the Air Force in their efforts. Frankly, things would be so much easier if Remnant only had a single defense force to coordinate with rather than four separate ones," Ackerson admitted, even though he knew that wasn't really an option on the table for now.

In the back of his mind, the ONI officer also recognized the opportunity this afforded him. The Office of Naval Intelligence had been looking into ways to make Remnant's economy and government more integrated into the UEG and UNSC. Remnant may be independent, and Ackerson was committed to making the alliance work despite his previous arguments, but he and ONI refused to let Remnant become a model for active Insurrectionist movements on Gao, Venezia, and other worlds still dealing with them. If they played their cards right, rebuilding Vacuo's and Mistral's militaries and societies could go a long way towards achieving that goal.

But that was a long-term project. Right now, they had to focus on turning around the war they were losing. A war for their right to simply exist.

Shaking his head, Ackerson then asked, "Regarding the performance of the Huntsmen, am I correct in saying that they were highly effective force multipliers against the Covenant?"

"According to the testimonies of everyone who saw them in action, yes," Admiral Whitcomb confirmed. "The comparisons to the SPARTANs are apt."

"Hmm, while that is good to hear, that's also a problem," Ackerson pointed out, causing Whitcomb to raise an eyebrow.

"How so? The SPARTANs have been, thus far, the most effective tool we've fielded against the Covenant. Throwing more super soldiers at them can only be a good thing."

"I'm not debating that. My concern, Admiral, is that while the SPARTANs are loyal purely to the UNSC, the same cannot be said for the Huntsmen," Ackerson declared. "They are loyal to Remnant first and foremost. We cannot rely on Remnant to produce all of the super soldiers we need, nor should we."

"What are you suggesting?" Parangosky asked, and Ackerson steeled himself for what he was about to say.

"I'm requesting a budget increase for the SPARTAN-III program," Ackerson announced, and the entire Security Council winced, except for Parangosky who remained remarkably calm.

By this point, everyone in the council knew how the SPARTANs were made. They weren't recruited from the best soldiers the UNSC had. They were conscripted as children as young as the age of six, subjected to the harshest training and education humanity had ever devised then given augmentations that raised them to superhuman levels of strength and endurance. On every conceivable level, SPARTANs were stronger, faster, and smarter than the rest of humanity.

On an intrinsic level, Ackerson knew that their creation was morally repugnant. One could even call it evil, but it was a necessary evil in his opinion. Not just against the Insurrection whom the SPARTAN-IIs were created to face, but especially against the Covenant. At least his SPARTAN-IIIs didn't kidnap unwilling children from loving families only to replace them with short-lived flash clones like Halsey's did, nor did his program's augmentation procedures result in over half the graduating class dying or suffering severe deformities. No, the SPARTAN-IIIs were recruited from orphans whose families were massacred by the Covenant, and he offered them the chance to get revenge. An offer those children eagerly took, ultimately trading their lives for much needed time.

At least he could admit that what he was doing was something to be ashamed of, rather than try to justify it as morally righteous like Halsey did with her "SPARTANs are the evolution of humanity as a species" bullshit. It was one of many reasons why he despised her, a hatred that was only compounded when he rose to his current station and became privy to the names of the SPARTAN-II candidates, only to recognize one of them as his long-dead sister, Julia.

For years, he had thought she simply died of a freak illness shortly after her sixth birthday, but that was just her flash clone that Halsey left in her place after she kidnapped Julia. The real Julia had been conscripted into the SPARTAN-II program, then died years later after her body rejected the augmentations. Discovering his sister's fate had turned Ackerson's dislike of Halsey from professional jealousy to pure hatred on a personal level, and inspired him to create the SPARTAN-IIIs in the first place.

Cole frowned, bringing Ackerson back into the present, then asked, "How much?"

"Beta Company is currently on track to finish training in 2545," Ackerson answered. "To match Remnant's rate of production, I need the funds to produce three more simultaneously."

"That's nine-hundred SPARTAN-IIIs," Admiral Cole pointed out.

"All of whom I can guarantee will serve the UNSC completely. We cannot guarantee that for Huntsmen from Remnant," Ackerson declared, and Cole released a sigh.

"God help us…," he muttered under his breath. He then shook his head and replied, "I can't guarantee anything right now. Resources are stretched thin as it is, and we can't afford to make another company of SPARTAN-IIIs beyond the already planned Gamma Company. Let's wait and see how our alliance with Remnant plays out…then we'll revisit your budget request."

"Of course, Admiral," Ackerson replied, having figured that was going to be the response. He simply wanted to put it on the table.

There was also another possibility thanks to Remnant's discovery that he was cooking up, which would address the split loyalty issue. One that could easily be spun-off or integrated into the SPARTAN-III program, but he wanted to gather more information first before committing anything.

"Moving on," Ackerson continued as he pulled up the preliminary copy of the Peponi Cartographer's data, "we need to discuss the data procured from the Cartographer, and the Forerunner relics it indicates on our colonies. And Remnant."

The fact that of the five major artifacts the Cartographer highlighted on Remnant, four were located in the heart of the kingdoms themselves, right where their capitals were, wasn't lost on anyone. But rather than jump to any conclusions, he simply decided to focus on the fact that they were there in the first place.

"We need to recover them as soon as possible," Parangosky immediately declared. "As I already said, I've assembled xenoarchaeology teams to secure the artifacts marked on other planets. All Covenant technology is derived from the Forerunners, and if we can replicate even a fraction of what they can do it could dramatically increase our chances of survival."

"My thoughts exactly," Ackerson concurred, then he steeled himself for yet another heartless yet, in his opinion, necessary suggestion before saying, "The data also presents us with a perfect security opportunity."

"And that is?" Admiral Cole asked, and Ackerson looked him dead in the eyes.

"Based off our intelligence, we know that the Covenant spend much of their time searching for these Forerunner artifacts, and won't dare to glass the planet they're on until they're retrieved," he explained. "We saw this on Peponi. They didn't glass the colony until after the Cartographer was destroyed. They also have the capability to find these artifacts independent of our attempts to enforce the Cole Protocol. Dozens of our colonies were accidentally discovered by Covenant ships simply trying to find Forerunner relics. We may have stopped them from getting the Peponi Cartographer's data for now, but they'll find those worlds eventually. All we did was make it harder. Either way, we know exactly where they're going, and if we know where they're going…."

"We can prepare," Cole finished his statement, and Ackerson nodded.

"Exactly. I'm suggesting we reprioritize the distribution of our defenses to worlds containing Forerunner artifacts. Fleet deployments, ODP construction, Army garrisons. Turn each of those worlds into a fortress, or as much of one as we possibly can. That way, when the Covenant arrive, it'll be a lot bloodier than they're anticipating."

While Parangosky, Strauss, and Cole glanced among themselves, Whitcomb frowned and pointed out, "I don't exactly agree with your assessment of the situation, Colonel. Based on my own analysis, I would argue that those worlds are doomed. Instead of trying to futilely defend them, we should instead focus on evacuating the people there and moving to worlds without any of these relics. You're advocating for investing our entire military into ambushes to kill as much of the Covenant as possible before these 'fortress worlds', as you called them, are inevitably ground down one by one. If we could still defeat the Covenant conventionally, that could work. But I fear the only thing that would accomplish would be committing us to using up the majority of our military power. And even if we do as you suggest…we'd be abandoning dozens of colonies to their fate."

"Yes," Ackerson immediately answered, "but aren't we already doing that? During this entire war, we've been forced to choose which worlds to save and which ones to abandon. At least now we have a better idea as to what our choices are, and if we're lucky, the Covenant won't find those worlds at all. If they do, they'll sure fall for sure. But by forcing the Covenant to focus more and more attention onto these fortresses, it'll slow them down and buy us time we desperately need."

As Whitcomb scowled towards the ONI officer, the other members of the Security Council glanced at each other. Each of them knew that accepting Ackerson's proposal meant they'd be tossing millions to the wolves. But in exchange, they'd potentially be saving billions. It was a brutal calculus, one that Ackerson knew would damn him if such a thing as Hell actually existed. But it was one he'd make without a second thought, because in the face of extinction, any alternative was preferrable.

After a few moments, Admiral Cole stoically replied, "Before we come to any conclusions, let's wait and see how our alliance with Remnant plays out. If it goes as well as we're hoping, we might be able to do both. Evacuate the people living there, and turn those worlds into fortresses in their place. But it's still far too early to settle on a single strategy at this point."

"Of course, Admiral," Ackerson replied, then he and the rest of HIGHCOM settled back into discussion on what to do in the immediate future.

[~]

Tchakova Park

July 11th, 1345 Hours (UNSC Military Calander)

Sitting on a park bench, Qrow watched as scores of civilians idly passed by. Some were walking their dogs. Others talking with friends, husbands and wives or playing with children. At the center of the park was an amphitheater where a young girl was beautifully playing the violin, with dozens of spectators silently listening in. Overhead, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, a picturesque blue hue broken only by the occasional dropship or civilian spacecraft arriving or leaving the spaceport. A UNSC destroyer was also hanging overhead, with it serving as a constant reminder of the UNSC's presence right alongside the WHITE TOWER structure that served as the heart and tallest building in the entire city.

But the buildings and large military presence weren't the most striking aspects of what he was seeing here on that park bench. It was the fact that everything seemed so peaceful. People were going along with their days, seemingly living their lives without fear of the axe hanging over their necks. The Human-Covenant War might as well have not existed to them. He didn't know if that was by design, some goal of ONI propaganda meant to placate the populace, or if it was a byproduct of just how well-defended Reach was compared to every other human world. It was probably a mixture of both.

Qrow didn't quite know how to feel about that, but he had to admit it was a nice change of pace. After spending months in the company of death, seeing life be allowed to go on undisturbed was pleasant. He wasn't about to break that, so he was content simply watching them go.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting on that bench. At one point, he had some food and water, but both were long gone now. He couldn't even remember if he had actually eaten it or if some bird or dog snatched it from him. Knowing his luck, it was probably the latter, not that he really cared at the moment. All he wanted was to relax, and with the Gods as his witnesses, he was going to do just that.

"Working hard, or hardly working?" a gruff and recognizable voice cut through the silence, prompting Qrow to turn his head to the side where he saw Sergeant Johnson wearing only his trademark hat, a short-sleeved dark green shirt with the Marine Corps insignia proudly displayed on its face, and a matching pair of dark blue trousers. In his hands were two bottles of beer, one of which he was offering to Qrow.

Taking the offered alcoholic beverage, Qrow gave Johnson a nod before flicking the cap off the top with his thumb and bringing the bottle to his lips. Tilting it up, he took a satisfying swig, then released a content sigh just as Johnson sat down next to him.

"You know, after you spent all that time trying to keep me from drinking, I'm surprised you're just handing me one in broad daylight," Qrow pointed out as Johnson drank from his bottle beside him.

"Yeah, well, after what we just went through I figured both of us needed a drink," Johnson replied.

Qrow figured there was truth to that, then took another swig and said, "While I appreciate it, couldn't you have chosen a better brand? This is practically water."

"Sorry to say that budget cuts affect us all, Branwen," Johnson replied in a sarcastic tone, which made Qrow snort despite himself. Johnson smiled at getting the intended reaction, then he too simply turned his head to look at the people passing them by in the park.

The two sat there in silence for a few moments, content to slowly drink their beers while people watching. Eventually, Qrow quietly asked, "So, what's going to happen?"

"Well, unlike ONI I don't have eyes and ears everywhere," Johnson joked before adopting a more serious expression, "but Dare's been keeping me in the loop."

"Haven't seen her since we arrived on the planet," Qrow pointed out.

"Neither have I, but this morning I got a message from her after our hearings, and another one not too long ago." Johnson paused and took another drink of his beer, then continued, "Technically, it didn't say it was from Dare, and on the surface it just looked like a spam advertisement. But, if you read between the lines, you can figure out what's actually being said."

Qrow couldn't help but chuckle and respond, "Sounds like ONI, based off what I've seen."

"You have no idea," Johnson agreed. "Anyway, as expected the higher ups were…let's say less than thrilled over what happened."

"I already figured that out while suffering through that debriefing yesterday."

"So did I, but it's always nice to have confirmation. Regardless, Commander Keyes has been relieved of command over the Midsummer Night."

"That's a load of Grimm-shit," Qrow growled, and Johnson nodded in agreement. He then asked, "He wasn't court-martialed, was he?"

"Thankfully, no. Instead, he's being reassigned to Remnant as a Navy liaison," Johnson revealed. "Same with Dare and yours truly, as a matter of fact."

That caught Qrow off-guard, and he turned to look at Johnson and replied, "Liaisons? You mean you're staying at Remnant?"

"Well, I suspect the good Lieutenant will find some way out of her punishment detail long before me or the Commander, like the good ONI spook she is, but yes," Johnson clarified. "Apparently, while the bigwigs didn't like how much danger we put you and the others in—"

"Danger we volunteered for," Qrow interrupted, and Johnson nodded while waving him off and continuing unimpeded.

"—they did notice that we seemed to have built a rapport with you Huntsmen. They're hoping to exploit that. My job's gonna be helping you bring your armed forces up to snuff. Looks like you and I are gonna be seeing each other a lot more than either of us thought."

Johnson took another swig of his beer bottle, but Qrow sat still while looking at him. After a moment, Qrow asked, "Why are you here, Johnson?"

"Because you looked like a lost puppy," Johnson immediately answered. "A lost puppy covered in dirt, grime, and God knows what. Figured you could use a hand."

Once again, Qrow snorted in amusement, then clarified, "You know what I meant. There were over a dozen of us on that ship, and you could've spent time with any of them. But, instead, you focused on me. Why?"

Johnson took another swig, then answered, "How many times do I have to tell you? I made a promise to two little girls to bring you home safely. When I make a promise, I keep it. It didn't hurt that you kept trying to be by yourself. Couldn't have that, and since the entire point of this mission was to make friends, I figured I might as well kill two birds with one stone."

Qrow supposed he had a point there. He then turned to look straight ahead again, finished the rest of his beer, and said, "Well, Avery, I guess friends do give each other shitty beer from time to time."

This time Avery laughed, and he replied, "That they do, Qrow. That they do."

[~]

Reach City Medical Center

July 15th, 2541, 0715 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

It had been a long time since he'd been in a hospital room, Clover Ebi thought to himself. Not since he'd unlocked his Semblance, after which he never really got hurt enough to warrant a trip in the first place. Any wounds he received were never anything so bad that his aura or simple first aid couldn't handle it. But Harriet Bree's injuries were far more severe, and even after all the work the UNSC did to save her life, watching her lying unconscious on the hospital bed made him feel helpless. The rest of the Ace-Ops were with him, with Vine calmly staring out the window, watching birds and aircraft fly by, while Elm sat next to him, her eyes never leaving Harriet's body.

"Sirs, ma'am, you don't need to wait in the room with Ms. Bree," the head surgeon, a middle-aged bald man named Dr. Tibor, told them as he adjusted his glasses. "We promise to notify you once anything changes."

"While we appreciate the consideration, Doctor, I'm afraid we must decline," Vine immediately answered for the rest of the team before Clover could himself.

Dr. Tibor gave an understanding nod, then replied, "I understand. As you can imagine, we handle a lot of military patients here. Please, if you need anything, just let us know. We'll be happy to accommodate."

"Thank you, Doctor," Clover replied, briefly thinking back to the countless patients he had seen while staying at the hospital, waiting for Harriet's surgeries to be done and for her to wake up. He didn't keep track of any numbers, but he had noticed plenty of UNSC military personnel in the waiting rooms and lobbies. Frankly, he'd be surprised if there weren't any in Reach City's premier hospital.

He also spotted Casper Marine talking to some therapists. He hadn't spoken to her much since they got to Reach. No one had ever since the rest of her team died right in front of her. Clover's heart broke at the sight, and while he hoped she would one day recover, right now he had his own teammate to look after.

"Do you know when she'll wake up?" Elm quietly asked, a far cry from her usual confidence.

"It's hard to say," Dr. Tibor admitted as he released a sigh. "Her injuries were…quite severe, I'm afraid. She seems to have taken to the treatments well enough, but whether she wakes up in the next few hours or the next few days is anyone's guess."

Clover sighed and hung his head at the reply. He'd been hoping for a more definitive answer, but truth be told he was just happy that the doctors were confident she was going to wake up at all. As Dr. Tibor said, Harriet's injuries were extensive after getting hit almost directly by a ship-fired plasma mortar. If it weren't for her aura, she'd be dead just like Thomas Cornell and Sepia Honeycreep. Clover thanked the Gods that they died instantly, because after he saw Harriet writhing in utter agony, he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

But what truly saved her, of course, was UNSC medical technology, which vastly exceeded anything on Remnant. They had put her into cryosleep immediately after doing what they could on the Midsummer Night, preserving her body long enough for it to be taken to a medical facility on Reach where they could begin proper treatment. Neither Clover nor the Ace-Ops were allowed to watch the over a dozen surgeries themselves, only able to see her once they were done.

The difference was striking. When they last saw Harriet before she went under the knife, most of her body was covered in third-degree burns, her legs mangled, Fast Knuckles melted into her skin, and more. But now, if it weren't for the fact that she was hooked up to an IV and had a heartbeat monitor constantly beeping next to her bed, he almost couldn't tell. In fact, if you didn't know Harriet, you'd take one look at her flawless skin and think she was just sleeping.

Of course, that wasn't actually her skin. Technically it was, just not the one she made herself. The doctors here had utilized flash-cloning to rapidly grow new layers of skin that they surgically replaced the destroyed tissue with. Most of the surgeries she underwent were to replace her skin and all the corresponding nerve endings, sweat glands, and more that went along with it. The doctors tried explaining the more intricate details around it, but Clover had to admit that most of it went over his head. There was a reason why he became a Huntsman and not a doctor, after all.

Beyond the skin grafts, they also had to replace some of her internal organs. After breathing in superheated gas, her throat and lungs were scorched beyond repair. For a while, she needed a machine to breathe for her. Now she had a fresh pair of flash-cloned lungs and a new throat, with the damaged originals stored in a cooler somewhere in the hospital. A few of her other internal organs had to be repaired, but luckily none of them were as severely damaged. Medical nanites were able to go in and repair them from the inside-out.

Of course, her limbs were another story. Her legs were touch and go for a while, with many of them fearing that they'd have to be amputated. Thankfully, the surgeons were able to save them, although it did require replacing most of her original blood vessels and nerve endings, as well as strips of muscle and fat. Harriet would have to undergo physical therapy to regain their full use. The same went for her left arm. But her right was completely gone beneath the elbow. According to the doctors, while flash cloning individual organs was relatively simple, replacing entire limbs was a much more complicated and time-consuming endeavor, especially for returning to combat readiness. They wanted to talk to Harriet and get her input before making a decision.

Clover suspected there was a reason why most of the military amputees he talked to opted for a prosthetic.

Releasing another sigh, Clover said, "It doesn't matter when she wakes up. All that does is that we'll be here for her. Harriet's an Ace-Op, and Ace-Ops look after each other."

Vine and Elm nodded in agreement, and Dr. Tibor let out a content smile at the display of camaraderie. After that, the room fell into silence once more, broken only by the sound of the heartbeat monitor and the occasional shuffling of the door as more doctors and nurses came in to keep tabs on Harriet's condition. Every so often, the Ace-Ops would change their positions next to Harriet or at the window. Hours passed by in what felt like the blink of an eye, and before Clover knew it, the noon sun was shining bright overhead.

That was when the door opened again, revealing Qrow Branwen carrying what smelled like a bag of greasy moa burgers. Normally, Clover's strict diet would've forbidden such things, but when Qrow offered several of the burgers to him and his teammates, Clover happily accepted it and chowed down. Elm and Vine did so as well, with Elm practically moaning at the taste.

"Oh, these are so good," Elm declared as she took another bite, not caring about the ketchup staining her mouth, while her partner took smaller, more measured bites.

"They are tasty. Still can't decide if I like them or actual burgers more," Qrow admitted as he walked over to look at Harriet. "So she hasn't woken up yet?"

"Not yet, no," Clover answered, "but we're hoping it'll be soon."

Qrow nodded in understanding as he stood on the right side of Harriet's bed, looking over her, then began to say, "Yeah, I figured that. I can't say I know her very well. If I'm being honest, I thought she could afford to take that stick out of her ass and beat the Covenant with it instead of us."

Despite himself, Clover couldn't help but let out a chuckle, as did Elm who more openly laughed. Even Vine gave an amused smirk. Qrow's smile slightly grew, and he continued, "Still, from what I saw, she's a fighter. Harriet will get through this, and when she does—"

That was when Harriet's eyes shot open, her iris wide and unfocused, and before anyone could react she let out a bloodcurdling scream, shot her torso upward, and threw her remaining fist at the closest thing that resembled a target, which just so happened to be Qrow's throat.

"GAGH!" Qrow croaked in pain as he stumbled back and dropped his food, clutching his injured windpipe and visibly struggling to stay on his feet. He was taken so off-guard that he didn't even have time to get his aura up.

Clover and the Ace-Ops, however, reacted immediately as they sprinted towards the still-screaming and thrashing Harriet, trying to hold her down lest she hurt herself or anyone else.

"Get Dr. Tibor in here, now!" Vine ordered the startled nurse as he used his semblance to safely pin her limbs in place.

"Harriet, Harriet! It's okay! It's me, Elm! You're safe!" Elm tried to placate Harriet, who was in the midst of what could only be a full-blown panic attack.

Soon the entire room was filled with half a dozen doctors and nurses, all struggling to calm Harriet down while some attended the recovering Qrow. The effort seemed to stretch into eternity, but soon Harriet's pupils contracted, her breathing became more stable, and her thrashing ceased.

Still breathing heavily and covered in a layer of sweat, Harriet dazedly turned her head on a swivel to look over everyone, then she asked through a hoarse voice, "Where…where am I? What happened?"

Clover sighed in relief, then answered, "You're in a hospital on Reach. You're safe."

Harriet looked at her leader with a confused expression before asking, "Hospital? Why am I in a hospital?"

Concerned, Clover glanced at Dr. Tibor who whispered, "Short-term memory loss is normal after a traumatic event. Best to coax her through this gently."

Clover nodded in understanding, then looked back at Harriet and calmly answered, "Harriet, you…had an accident. A bad one. The doctors here saved you."

Harriet still looked confused, not at all understanding what her leader was trying to tell her. Then she and the others heard Qrow mutter under his breath as he massaged his throat, "Gods damn it, couldn't you have punched me with the other one?"

As the others shot Qrow a look, who clearly recognized his mistake even as he crammed his foot in his mouth, Harriet's eyes widened. Her eyes trailed down her right shoulder and arm, settling on the stump that was her elbow. No one said a word nor even breathed as they waited for Harriet to respond, who simply sat there silently staring at the remains of her right arm for several quiet, tense moments.

Finally, she all-too-calmly said, "…Oh."

[~]

The memories returned slowly for Harriet, and even now much of it was fuzzy. As far as she knew, one moment she was racing towards Thomas and Sepia. The next, she was in a hospital room on another planet, surrounded by both her team and people she didn't recognize. After that, things seemed to go by in a blur. Her teammates and Qrow, whom she apparently punched in the throat when she first woke up, were ushered away, leaving her in the company of Terran doctors who insisted that she perform a wide variety of medical tests, both physical and mental. They wanted to make sure there wasn't anything they missed in the apparent dozens of surgeries she had to undergo to save her life. The most galling thing was that she needed a wheelchair just to move around, as though she was an invalid. Something about how her legs needed time to properly recover from getting mangled.

Only after several hours did they finally relent, allowing Harriet to see the remains of her old lungs, throat, and other organs they replaced. The doctors hadn't wanted to show them to her just yet, but Harriet was nothing if not stubborn. But even she had to admit that seeing her lungs outside of her body and herself in a mirror with unscarred skin was a weird sensation. People on Remnant always talked about having an out-of-body experience, and she doubted they meant anything like this.

But she had far more important things to worry about, and as she sat on her hospital bed, still wearing her gown, she turned towards her leader and asked, "So…what happens now?"

"We wait for you to get better, then we head home to Remnant," Clover answered. "General Ironwood and the rest of the world needs to know the danger they're in."

"I assume that means we're joining the war?" Harriet asked, happy that they were at least able to prevent the Covenant from making off with the Cartographer's data. It also gave her no small amount of pride that it was the Ace-Ops who ensured that didn't happen, even if she wasn't able to lend a hand.

"After Peponi, I don't see how we can avoid it," Clover admitted. "This war affects all of us, and the only way Remnant survives is if we work with the UNSC."

"Good," Harriet said, her fist tightening as she deeply scowled, only to feel a phantom sensation in her right arm that knocked her out of it. Glancing at her stump, she released a sigh and said, "But…what about me? Am I-?"

"Don't, Harriet," Elm interjected. "We're not kicking you off the team just because you lost your arm. I don't care how long it takes for you to recover. You're…you're our friend, and nothing's going to change that.

Vine and Clover immediately nodded, confirming Elm's declaration while Harriet gave them a confused look. Ever since she had joined the Ace-Ops along with her partner Tortuga, who had to stay behind on Remnant due to an unfortunately timed injury he sustained right before they could leave, they would always acknowledge each other as valued teammates but nothing more. They'd do the job, trust each other to have the others' backs, then go home. Their relationship was nothing more than that.

So to hear Elm openly declare that they were friends was a remarkable change in that dynamic. Harriet's first instinct was to deny the attachment, to stubbornly keep her coworkers at a professional arm's length. But, after everything they'd just been through together, she found that she simply didn't want to anymore. Instead, she simply smiled appreciatively and nodded in acceptance. She supposed that the idea of having friends for teammates wasn't a bad one.

"While we're on that subject, Ms. Bree," Dr. Tibor cut in, taking Harriet's complete attention as he activated a wall-mounted screen, "I wanted to talk about your arm."

"Yeah, what about it?" Harriet asked while raising an eyebrow and attempting to cross her arms, only to stop when she remembered she couldn't exactly do that anymore.

"Right now, we are at a crossroads, and you have two options ahead of you," Dr. Tibor told the wounded Huntress, pressing his finger against his data pad which pulled up the schematic of a prosthetic limb on the bigger screen. "The first is the UNSC outfits you with an artificial prosthetic. We'll need to give you a neural implant so you can properly control it, and it won't have the full strength and ability of your natural arm, but it'll be reasonably close and the required physical therapy will only be a few weeks."

Harriet nodded, having already expected that option. She expected that channeling her aura would make up for most of the strength issues such a prosthetic would otherwise have. The recovering Specialist then asked, "What's the second option?"

Dr. Tibor pressed another button on his data pad which changed the screen to a mockup of an arm, displaying the skin, muscles, bone and everything else. He then answered, "The second is that we flash-clone you a new organic arm entirely."

"If you can do it, why didn't you earlier?" Harriet asked while raising an eyebrow.

"As I told your commander, flash-cloning single organs is easy while flash-cloning limbs is far more complicated. In addition, the amount of physical therapy you're going to need to regain complete use of your arm is going to be measured in months. We don't have enough data yet to know how much your…aura's healing properties may quicken the process, but you will still essentially have to build a newborn arm back up to your former strength and dexterity."

Harriet supposed that made sense, and she nodded in understanding as Dr. Tibor continued, "This is an unfortunate situation for all of us, and I know you're going to need some time to come to a decision. So I'll—"

"I'll take the prosthetic," Harriet interrupted, catching the surgeon off-guard. "I'm not going to have the months to spare rebuilding the arm I lost."

"Harriet, let's not be too hasty," Clover advised. "I know you don't like sitting out of the action, but we're about to go back to Remnant. You'll have all the time in the world to regain your strength."

"And what about the mess that's going to follow our report on this war?" Harriet retorted while shaking her head. "You and I both know that when the general public finds out about the Covenant, and they will have to be told if we're going to get anything done, people are going to freak out, no matter what we do to ease them into it. It's going to make what happened when the UNSC first showed up look like a bad hair day. We're going to need every Huntsman and Huntress on deck to hold back the Grimm, and if you think I'm going to kick back in some hospital while my friends are putting their lives on the line? Then you don't know me at all."

While Clover and Vine's faces softened at the admission, Elm more fervently shook her head and tried to insist, "Harriet, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but—"

"But nothing," Harriet countered. "It's my body, Elm, and I want to get back into the field as soon as possible."

There was also the underlying thought that having the prosthetic would serve as a reminder of just how close she came to death. Morbid as it probably was, coming out of such a life-shaking experience, without even having a scar as proof of what she'd survived felt…uncanny. Harriet didn't think of herself as a sentimental person, but she figured something like that needed to be remembered and not just put behind her like nothing happened.

Though after seeing the contrite look on Elm's face as she backed down, Harriet decided to throw her team a bone.

"I might revisit the idea of replacing it with a 'proper' flesh arm to get back into shape later, if we ever find a long enough time where Atlas doesn't need me ready to kick ass," she allowed with an embarrassed grumble. "Don't think that'll be happening anytime soon, though."

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Tibor nodded then said, "Of course. To be honest, I actually expected this. Most marines and soldiers in your position opt for the prosthetic as well, Ms. Bree. Now, allow me to explain how the procedure will work."

[~]

Remnant, Oum System

Beacon Academy, Vale, Kingdom of Vale

August 5th, 2541, 1300 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

"Professors, General, I just received word that the Midsummer Night has started their final approach to Remnant. They should be here within the next few minutes," the UNSC Admiral reported to Professor Ozpin, his fellow Headmasters, and Ghira Belladonna.

"Thank you, Admiral Lord Hood," Ozpin replied as he gave the middle-aged man a genuine smile. Beside him, Glynda Goodwitch and General Ironwood gave similar expressions, and before long they were walking outside to the docks where Pelican dropships would arrive momentarily.

As they walked through the halls of Beacon Academy, passing by students going to and from class, Ozpin's thoughts went back over the previous eight months since he last saw Qrow and the other Huntsmen. It had been with no small amount of trepidation that he sent his most trusted field agent out into the vast reaches of space, shepherded by a people he hardly knew. But the threat of the Covenant needed verification, and although he wanted to believe that the UNSC had good intentions for his people, he couldn't take them at just their word.

It wasn't long after the ships carrying the Huntsmen left the Oum system that Admiral Lord Hood arrived. He'd been assigned by the UNSC Security Council to oversee orbital defense of Remnant as part of the early security negotiations happening between the Kingdoms of Remnant and the United Earth Government. A middle-aged man nearly fifty-one years old, Lord Terrance Hood at first glance seemed like a typical military man. Wearing a white and grey with a gold trim uniform that proudly displayed numerous medals and commendations on his chest, his bald head was almost always covered by a white, black, and gold officers cap.

Ozpin made no secret of his general distrust of militaries. Over his many lifetimes, he had seen countless armies and fleets of the world commit unspeakable atrocities against one another. While their stated purpose often was to protect their citizens from the Grimm, it didn't take much for kingdoms to commit their forces to war, leaving those who depended on them for protection at the mercy of the Grimm. It was one of the many reasons why the Great War was so bloody, and why most of the world disbanded their militaries in favor of Huntsmen and militias once it concluded. So the fact that the UNSC clearly wanted Remnant to remilitarize was always going to be a cause for concern.

Despite that, Ozpin genuinely liked and respected Lord Hood. While he had come to understand that not all of the UNSC shared the same genuine good intentions towards Remnant, the Office of Naval Intelligence in particular, Lord Hood certainly did. Over the past eight months, he had displayed nothing but respect for Remnant and its denizens, making a genuine effort to understand the people he was assigned to help. It was a feeling that the other Headmasters and the councilors of the kingdoms shared, particularly since he avoided attempting to strongarm everyone into doing what he wanted.

General Ironwood in particular was taken with the man. Many times Ozpin had walked in on the pair discussing various military theories, strategies, and historical events from both their homeworlds. Ozpin got the sense that Ironwood was simply happy he had a genuine peer to talk to on an equal footing. Atlas was the only kingdom on Remnant that had an official military, which meant that his only options for discussing military strategy was his own subordinates. Ozpin technically had just as much, if not more, military experience than General Ironwood did, and he knew Ironwood realized that deep down, but he suspected that his lack of official rank made it harder for James to accept it.

In any case, Hood's personality made negotiations with the UNSC easier. The kingdoms trusted that he had their best interests in mind and wasn't trying to subvert their independence. Ozpin suspected that was the reason why the UNSC sent him in the first place instead of someone else. They were trying very hard to cement this alliance, and so putting their best foot forward only made sense. There was also the fact that Lord Hood was very high on the chain of command. By all accounts, he was next in line to be Chief of Naval Operations should something happen to Vice Admiral Cole. By having such an important individual take center stage in Remnant's security negotiations, it indicated to the kingdoms just how seriously the UEG and UNSC were taking them.

The negotiations were still ongoing, but already they had reaped results. A small fleet consisting of around six ships, including three Phoenix-class support vessels, two Paris-class heavy frigates, and their flagship, a Halcyon-class light cruiser called the UNSC Dawn Under Heaven had been providing orbit to ground support against various Grimm incursions around the world. So far, the kingdoms had refused to allow direct orbital MAC or missile bombardment, but the orbital deployment of marines and ODSTs allowed for a rapid response anywhere when needed. Thousands of lives had been saved thanks to the arrangement, which afforded the UNSC plenty of goodwill.

There were still sticking points, of course. Aside from Atlas, none of the kingdoms were particularly enthusiastic about the UNSC's desire for them to remilitarize on a scale they'd never seen before. Nor were they keen on allowing the UNSC to establish permanent military bases from which they could deploy their forces. Even Atlas had issues with that. All they could do was ferry troops and light armor to and from the ground with the use of Pelican and Albatross dropships. The other councilors had been told about the Covenant, of course, but like Ozpin and the other Headmasters, they were waiting for confirmation before making any decisions.

Confirmation that was being given. The ship carrying the Vacuo and Mistral delegation had arrived the week before, carrying with them tales of what they had seen and experienced. Their mission had gone according to plan as their ship ferried them from glassed world to glassed world, with the occasional stop at a Terran colony for resupply. The evidence they provided was haunting, both their personal recollections as well as images and physical evidence. They had all walked away with the opinion that the Covenant was a threat to Remnant, but their opinions on actually joining the war was far more divided. Some believed they had no choice but to enter the war, while others wanted to sit out of it entirely.

While they were still waiting on the Atlas, Vale, and White Fang delegation to come to a decision on whether they'll be joining the war or not, the first reports had already created a stir among the councilors. Before, it was simply more palatable for them to question or downplay the foreign government's claims about the Covenant. Now they were scared and listening to the UNSC's warnings far more intently. Preliminary plans were being drawn up to inform the people of Remnant about the aliens regardless of which way they went, though there was much debate on how to do so and what should be kept classified. For all of them knew that revealing the Covenant's existence and their genocidal intent towards humanity, regardless of homeworld, would incite a mass panic the likes of which Remnant had never seen. Such information had to be properly managed and framed in a way that would reduce the ensuing dread as much as possible.

Of the various headmasters, each of them had responded in a different way. General Ironwood looked half-ready to declare war immediately and move Atlas to a total war economy. Professor Lionheart seemed as though he was close to having a panic attack half the time over the prospect of fighting both the Grimm and the Covenant at the same time, and his stress levels over having to deal with the herd of cats that was Mistralian politics didn't help matters at all. Professor Theodore seemed to be the most cautious, unwilling to commit anything until he had all the information he could possibly get. Ozpin's thoughts were running along the same lines, but whereas Theodore was leaning more towards sitting out the war entirely, Ozpin was leaning more towards entering it.

He didn't want to join the Human-Covenant War. The death and devastation it would bring to his people would make the Great War look like the simple border skirmish it had started as in comparison. Millions would be affected, and if the Covenant were to somehow find Remnant, they faced the legitimate risk of extinction. But that was why Ozpin felt that they had to join the war. Not just to defend themselves, but to try and stop the senseless slaughter. He was under no delusion that humanity faced seemingly insurmountable odds against the Covenant. But if there was one thing he had learned while fighting Salem, it was that in the face of such odds you had to do something, anything to keep it at bay, even if you had no hope of actually defeating it. If their help could turn the war into a stalemate, Ozpin would consider it a success.

"They're entering the atmosphere now," Lord Hood announced, and the quintet turned their attention skyward as they waited for the dropships to enter the horizon.

Beside him, Ghira frowned then said, "I read the preliminary reports the UNSC sent us. If they're telling the truth…the Midsummer Night's mission didn't go according to plan at all."

At the mention of the reports, the Headmasters all winced or grimaced. They wouldn't be entirely certain whether the reports were factual or not until the Huntsmen returned, but the story they told was not a pretty one. Almost from the very start, their mission had hit setback after setback. Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntresses' uninvited inclusion had particularly insulted Ironwood at the time, especially from Commander Keyes' decision to let them stay due to fears of Atlas and Mantle falling into an Insurrection-style civil conflict. Ozpin privately applauded the Commander's reasoning, but that didn't mean he couldn't understand how Ironwood, who had come to work with the UNSC with the most enthusiasm out of all of them (a far cry from his initial fears and distrust), would view that as a personal slight.

But unlike the ship carrying the Vacuo and Mistral delegates, whose most dangerous incident was a mere attempting mugging (which was a downright amusing thought with disguised Huntsmen as the "victims"), the Midsummer Night was directly pulled into combat on three separate occasions one after another. According to the report, which infuriated the councilors when they started reading it, they first fell into a trap by Covenant pirates on the glassed Outer Colony of Khembalung when they responded to a distress beacon. Then, when they had to go to the Inner Colony world Vyraj for repairs, they got pulled into a UNSC military action against local Insurrectionists. Several of them were almost killed in the opening terrorist attacks, but part of Ozpin felt pride that the Huntsmen lent critical first aid before getting pulled out and letting the UNSC handle their own internal affairs.

Then, just as the Insurrection was quelled, the Covenant found Vyraj, and they had to flee the planet as it was getting glassed by the invaders before their very eyes. Apparently, the delegates had seen enough by that point, and the plan was to head home after making a quick stop at the nearby colony of Peponi for the fuel they needed to make the trip. Only to find out that the Covenant were already on the planet, and an ill-advised field mission on both sides led to the Huntsmen directly engaging the Covenant on purpose.

As a result of the Battle of Peponi, as the report called it, three of the Huntsmen were killed in action. Two of the Vale delegates were killed by a plasma mortar, thankfully neither of them Qrow, and one from the White Fang after he attempted to surrender. Gron's death hit Ghira particularly hard, even if Ozpin got the sense that he didn't like the man that much. He had admitted previously that he didn't want Gron to go with Sienna as he felt his personality was far too abrasive. But that certainly didn't mean he deserved such a fate.

Those weren't the only casualties. The other surviving Vale delegate, Casper Marine, had apparently entered into a deep spiral of depression and been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder after watching her teammates perish right before her eyes. UNSC doctors and therapists had been attempting to treat her, without much success. Then there was Harriet Bree, who had tried to save their lives and nearly lost hers in the process. She was grievously wounded by the plasma bombardment, and while the UNSC were able to save her life, she was not returning home in one piece.

But more shocking than the casualties was the reason why they happened in the first place: they were trying to stop the Covenant from making off with data from something called a Cartographer, which held the location of nearby worlds that had Forerunner artifacts on them. Among the dozens of worlds exposed, much to all of their horror, was Remnant. While they were able to secure the information through bravery and luck, it had been a close call.

Part of Ozpin wanted to believe that the UNSC was lying about the exact details, exaggerating them in the hopes of pulling them into the war. He desperately believed that to be true, because otherwise their chances of survival were worse than his most cynical imaginings. But the rest decided to wait and hear from Qrow himself. While his suspicion of the UNSC had grown over the past few months, his trust in Qrow was absolute.

Finally, the quintet began to see a dot emerge on the horizon. The dot grew larger rapidly, revealing a single Pelican heading straight towards them. As it approached, they could hear the roar of its engines, which turned into a whine as it slowed its descent in order to land. The pilots turned the dropship around as it landed, making the doors of the troop bay face them for easier departure. With a dull thud, the Pelican parked itself on the landing pad, and as the engines died down, the troop bay doors began to slide open.

Qrow and the Ace-Ops were at the front of the group, stepping off as soon as they were able, followed by the White Fang and the Happy Huntresses. The Ace-Ops immediately marched right in front of General Ironwood, where they stood at attention and flashed their commander a salute. Ironwood's eyes immediately shot to the chrome-plated prosthetic limb that was now Harriet's right arm from below the elbow. The normally stern general's face visibly fell at the sight, and he absentmindedly flexed his own right arm.

"Specialists," Ironwood started as he regained his composure, standing up straight and folding his arms behind his back. "I'm glad to see your return. We've already established debriefing rooms. Report there at once. And Harriet…speak to me when you're done. We'll work on bringing your prosthetic up to our highest standards."

"Yes, sir!" the Atlesian Specialists all replied in unison, with Harriet noticeably perking up at the sight of her commander's concern for her wellbeing. They then marched off towards Beacon Academy, guided by Lord Hood who was joined by Casper, the Happy Huntresses, and the White Fang.

Soon, however, it was just Ozpin, Glynda, and Qrow standing on the landing pad, and Ozpin, with his voice tenser that it had ever been, asked, "Qrow, tell me what you saw. Was the UNSC lying about the Covenant? About any of it?"

Qrow snorted in response while shaking his head, then admitted, "Gods, I wish they were. If anything, they were breaking it to us easy."

[~][~]

Hello, everyone! Here is the latest chapter of Dust and Echoes! Special thanks to NaanContributor and Jesse K for their help in bringing this chapter to life, particularly when I had to deal with a minor surgery I'm still recovering from.

This chapter is the epilogue to the Covenant Arc, and the entryway into the Integration Arc. As such, a lot of character arcs finally came to a head here. The Ace-Ops acknowledge each other as what they are: friends. Same with Avery and Qrow, setting up the eventual "Uncle Avery" dynamic Johnson will have with Ruby and Yang. The UNSC is also beginning to plan what to do with the information they received during this expedition. Now, though, we're back at Remnant, and the leaders of the world and the UNSC have a monumental task ahead of them: informing the public about the Human-Covenant War they are now a part of.

Everyone, welcome to the first mini-arc of the Integration Arc: the Revelation Panic. As you can imagine, no matter which way it goes, shit is gonna go down.

To answer a few questions:

I'm glad you guys liked the last chapter so much. It was the climax to the entire Covenant Arc, and we put a lot of work into it. Regarding the Covenant focusing on Huntsmen, it's gonna take a while before they realize Huntsmen are a thing. More on that later.

Apologies for the delay in updating the chapter. As you all know, I write four stories concurrently and after updating D&E several times in a row, I wanted to let my other stories have a chance to be updated. We're now back to our normal updating schedule, so you shouldn't have to wait half a year for another update.

Please do not ask me to write stories for you guys. My time is limited and any stories I write are those I come up with.

One of the purposes for the Integration Arc is the establishing of our story's actual main heroes: RWBYJNPR. Each member will be properly established during the Integration, which will mean that our previous main protagonist, Qrow, will start being relegated to the wayside and back to his canon role.

Halo Legends, with the exception of Odd One Out, is canon to the actual games. So I can definitely use bits and pieces of it. But it all depends on whether I can make it fit the story I want to tell. One of the things I want to avoid is just making a carbon copy of Halo with RWBY characters involved. I want to put my own spin on things. That's actually one of the reasons why I used Reach City from the show. Not only because I think the discourse around Reach City is silly (humans naming things "X City" has been a thing since forever; New York City for example, and Reach City wasn't even the first time such a naming convention happened in Halo as we had Arcadia City since Halo Wars; no, it wasn't just the name of the level, the level was named after the city it was set in), it gave me more narrative freedom regarding Reach. Assuming I have RWBY characters participate in the events of a potential Fall of Reach scenario, had I made, say, New Alexandria the focal point, you all would assume I would have RWBY be working alongside NOBLE Team. That isn't what I want to do. Not to mention there's no real indication that New Alexandria isn't anything more than a major civilian population center. I wanted to highlight the UNSC headquarters on Reach, and Reach City was the closest thing I had to that. Besides, Reach City did exist in the actual games, we just never saw it.

The Flood will be a thing in this story, but they are very far off. Let's not focus on them for now.

Regarding the White Fang, you'll have to wait and see on that front.

Regarding the origin of dust and semblances and what not, you guys will get an answer. That's all I'll say for now.

That's all I have to say for now. Let us know what you guys think. If any of you have a TV Tropes account, any assistance in updating the page would be greatly appreciated. We hope you all enjoy! See you all next time!