VIII: Councilors

June 20, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/two days later

UNSC Infinity, orbiting Ursa IV, Ursa System

"Sir, we've got a new contact in the system. IFF tags it as a friendly."

Lasky turned around to look at the display. "Hail it and get me visual confirmation ASAP. Do we have any probes in the area?"

"I've already dispatched two nearby ones, Captain," his navigations officer responded. "They should have a visual within a minute."

He nodded. Lasky knew that Cutter had already sent Spartans on board a vessel, but they were supposed to have arrived several hours ago. It wasn't unusual for delays when it came to traveling through slipspace, but UNSC ships tended to effectuate several jumps in situations where being tracked was a concern. This made traveling tedious and longer than it should be, but it also allowed for communication. Anything that would've caused a delay should've quickly been reported.

"Palmer, we've got newcomers," he relayed to the commander. "Might be your boys."

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged him. "Everyone else here is good to go."

Lasky looked around his bridge, still damaged from the previous battle. "How are you doing, Sarah?"

There was a short pause. "Much like you are, Captain. We'll be alright."

Lasky nodded to himself slightly. He had taken a walk to the infirmary ward and examined sections of the ship as soon as his job allowed him to. He had seen firsthand thousands of dead men and women. The casualty rate had spiked up heavily, and he had had to witness several of his injured sailors pass away because there simply weren't enough doctors or supplies to go around. Never before had he experienced loss of life on a scale like this, not even at Corbulo or any other battle had had participated in. He had recognized far too many of those faces.

The worst thing wasn't even needing to see dead eyes staring back at him, or a young man missing everything below his waist while trying to cling on to life. The worst part was that he couldn't even grant the dead the respect they deserved. They were jettisoned into the cold vacuum of space in mass quantities and Lasky could not even write the letters to their families. He could not even switch out the details in a pre-made letter. He was forced to tell Roland to take care of that.

"How is Red Team adapting to the ship?" he asked, just to make some conversation.

"They like it a lot better than the Spirit," she said. "I'd actually be more concerned about how my Spartans are getting adapted to the IIs."

"Has there been any sparring?" he asked.

"No dick measuring yet," Palmer replied with a tiny amount of humor in her voice. "It's just a bunch of little kids looking up in awe at their oldest cousin."

Lasky smiled a little bit, one of the few times that he had done so in the past three days. "And the IIIs?"

"They keep to themselves for the most part," Palmer replied. "Sir, do you have any word on Blue Team?"

"No changes, HIGHCOM tells me that they will not be joining us."

"And Captain, is it smart to put all the surviving Spartans in one spot?"

"It's been done before," Lasky said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but it wasn't a crippled vessel that was still leaking atmosphere, Captain."

"That's a fair point," he admitted, "but the Infinity is the only ship that can handle the comm requirements needed."

"Gonna be an important meeting, isn't it?" Palmer asked.

"Important indeed."

Buck stepped off the prowler and onto the deck of the Infinity. He hadn't been able to see the damage that the ship had suffered, but Locke and some of the others had witnessed it as the ship approached. From inside it was hard to tell if there was much wrong; other than the fact that this hangar was a bit more cluttered than usual there seemed to be no indication that a battle had taken place. He shrugged off those thoughts and walked on, following Locke's lead. The big, bald, black man was as imposing as any Spartan could be, but there was a look to his eyes that put him a notch above the rest. It was a look that Buck had seen in the mirror looking back at him, but never with quite that intensity.

Walking next to Locke was Spartan Castillo, the only Spartan that had no armor on. He was still wearing a borrowed pair of fatigues and a gray shirt that said ODST in the front in black font. Slung behind his back was a battle rifle, compensating for his lack of duffel bag and gear. He had a pistol in a thigh holster, no magnetic straps involved. He looked a little bit like a soldier from an age long past, especially next to Locke, who kept his head perfectly shaved and his goatee perfectly trimmed. The contrast between the sparking clean armor and the rugged look was pretty glaring, especially considering that they were both team leaders for the Spartan Branch.

Buck would've paid good money to watch a fight between the two.

Spartan Palmer stood near the entrance to the hangar. Her hands weren't clasped behind her back like usual, instead they were holding onto a DMR. However, despite the increased aggression of her look she still didn't have her helmet on, allowing Buck to get a good look at her pretty face.

"Locke," she greeted with a quick nod. "Cap."

"Sarah."

"Commander."

There was an incredibly brief pause as everyone within hearing range glanced at Castillo, who had just referred to the person in charge of his military branch by their first name.

"Did you bring the prisoners with you?" she asked, ignoring the blatant breaking of protocol.

"They're in the ship, commander," Spartan Locke said.

She nodded. "We'll have to move them to the brig ASAP. In the meantime, you five follow me."

Buck adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked forward, settling in step with Spartan Tanaka while Vale caught up from behind them.

"What was that all about?" Tanaka whispered.

"Maybe they know each other," Buck said. "Castillo was one of the first."

"I thought you were one of the first," Vale teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

They stepped into a tram and as soon as everyone was inside the train took off towards what Buck could only assume was S Deck if the direction they were moving in was anything to go by.

"Alright, listen up," Palmer said, turning around to face them. "You all know that the ship was attacked and we've suffered massive casualties. You also know that the Spartan contingent took a big hit."

There was silence as everyone nodded their heads.

"Sixty-eight Spartans were KIA," she said. "Fifteen more died from their injuries shortly after." Palmer gave everyone a few moments to take in the news before she continued. "Dozens more are wounded and plenty will not be able to fight again. At this moment our ranks are depleted and our morale is not exactly where it needs to be. But loss or not, the UNSC needs us to do our job. Humanity needs us to keep our shit together."

There were somber nods throughout the tram.

"Here's a casualty list," Palmer went on, her tone somber.

Locke took the datapad that Commander Palmer handed him and his eyes quickly scanned through the long list of names before he handed it to Buck. Buck looked down and went through the names, he had not yet made close connections to any of the Spartans, especially not those outside his team, but he recognized the overwhelming majority of the names on the list. More importantly, he could match faces to most names as well. Spartans Vale and Tanaka looked over his shoulders while he read through it. He could tell that despite their attempts to maintain professionalism their façade cracked ever so slightly. Both of the Spartans allowed their faces to betray the shock and anger that they were experiencing. At least they both managed to overwhelm any sign of sadness or loss.

Finally the datapad got to Castillo, whose eyes quickly darted up and down the list before he returned it to Palmer wordlessly. His face was that of a man that had just read a grocery list. Zero emotion.

The tram stopped and Buck had to steady himself. Apparently the damage to the Infinity had made the tram system less perfectly smooth than it used to be. He subconsciously rolled his eyes at that thought. The UNSC had poured a few trillion credits into the construction of this ship. Buck thought it was worth it, he had seen firsthand how much damage it could dish out and just how much punishment it could take, but despite its usefulness there were some things that struck him as odd. He had been attached to several vessels over his long and illustrious career, and the UNSC had never failed to make their ships utilitarian and practical. The Infinity, despite still having that military look and feel to it, was still a symbol and constantly in the public eye. Millions of credits had been dumped into unnecessary things, such as the massive fucking park in the middle of the ship. Buck couldn't help but shake his head when he wondered what had happened to the animals in the park. They hadn't signed up for this kind of bullshit.

The small group made their way through the hallways towards the Spartan deck; even here there were clear signs of damage. The walls were covered with scorch marks and hundreds of bullet holes. A few pieces of Promethean armor that hadn't been picked up yet were littered around. Light bulbs had been popped and replaced, but the glass hadn't been picked up yet. Buck made a point not to look at two large bloodstains covering the wall as they turned a corner, but he knew that Spartan Vale's eyes lingered on it for a few moments longer than they should have. Palmer stopped briefly before approaching the entrance that would lead them into Spartan town. The door was gone and hadn't been replaced yet. The barricades that the Spartans had set up to defend the chokepoint were still there, at least signs of them were. The battle must have been intense, as there were still several casings pressed against the walls so that people could walk through without stepping on them. Someone had hung up a large plastic cover to block the view, as the Spartan program still had a few thousand classified aspects not designed for the general public's knowledge.

Two Helljumpers stood guard at either side of the crummy barricade. One of them stood behind a LAAG and the other one was leaning against the wall, deeply engrossed by something in a datapad. The two ODSTs didn't even acknowledge the commander as she walked past them.

"Watching porn on duty?" Castillo asked the trooper leaning against the wall.

"As usual," the man replied, chuckling. "Rumor was you were KIA."

"I just took a break," he shot back with a small smile. "Delta-6?"

"They clocked out early."

Castillo nodded slightly and sighed. "I'm glad you made it, man. It's good to see you."

"You too, Cap."

It was a typical interaction between acquaintances. Buck was simply a little bit surprised that Castillo would be the type of person to interact with non-Spartans. Not a lot of Spartans were the type of person that would do that. Hell, he still considered himself a Helljumper before anything else and barely talked to people outside of the Spartan program. He didn't even like his teammates that much. Not yet, at least.

The six of them stepped through the plastic covering and this time Buck couldn't help but let his mouth widen as he saw the results of the battle. The S deck was all but destroyed. The bottom floor was still littered with Promethean debris and empty shells. One of the cranes on the ceiling had been brought down and taken out part of the catwalks with it before crashing down on the ground level. More than half of the armor removal machines had been damaged pretty badly. The living quarters, or at least the entrance to them, had suffered heavily from concentrated firing to it. Even from here Buck could see blood splatter that hadn't been washed off yet. He cursed silently, it seemed like the Prometheans had expended a sizeable amount of time and personnel into containing the majority of the Spartans inside this deck.

It appeared to have worked pretty well.

"Most Spartans are confined to their quarters at the moment," Palmer explained. "Captain ordered physical rest and I forced a few of them to watch some vids to get their minds off things."

"Did you suggest Breaking Bad?" Castillo asked.

Palmer smiled, it seemed like it was almost despite herself, before her face became completely serious again. "No, Frank. I did not suggest Breaking Bad."
Buck ignored the inside joke between the two of them and examined the damage.

"What exactly happened here?" Locke asked.

"Prometheans had a couple of goals in mind, they needed relative free rein to accomplish them. They sent thousands of their troops down this bottleneck to keep the Spartans pinned down and fighting for their lives as opposed to actually being on the offensive. It worked pretty fucking well."

Locke looked at his commander before nodding briefly.

"Why are we here?"

"Lots of shit's been going down," Palmer told them. "As you probably already know this galaxy is getting more fucked up by the moment."

Buck was a little bit taken aback by Palmer's swearing. He had heard her curse before, but never so frequently and in casual conversation. The woman was all about looking good in front of others sometimes.

"It used to be us and the Covvies. Then the Prometheans decided that the Forerunner era wasn't quite over after one hundred thousand years. Now it's the Citadel races and others that were in contact with them," she went on. "Now there's new players that hit both us and the Citadel aliens."

"And we're all in conflict with each other to a degree," Locke muttered.

"Exactly," Palmer said, nodding. "We're hosting a UNSC meeting. Everyone is going to be here and since you've got more knowledge than most about these newcomers, as you call them, you're invited."

"All of us?" Spartan Vale asked.

"No," Palmer told her. "Frank and Locke only."

Buck turned his gaze towards her and glared.

"You had to ask," Tanaka muttered before chuckling.

"For now you're dismissed to your quarters," Palmer told them. "You'll get additional instructions later when I need to debrief you."

"Yes ma'am," Buck said with a sigh. "Girls?"

Spartans Vale and Tanaka shrugged and followed after him without a word. Buck struggled not to look at the damage too pointedly, but there was enough blood that it was a struggle not to wonder what had happened to the unlucky Spartan to have left that red stain behind.

Shepard had been waiting inside the so-called conference room ever since the word had come that Cap and Osiris had shown up inside the system. She wasn't the only one that had rushed towards the conference room. By the time she got in there were already several other people inside. Shepard had put on her armor as soon as possible before jogging towards the room. Inside were already the three Spartans of Red Team standing next to each other. Jerome, Alice, and Douglas all had their armor on. Shepard didn't think that she had ever seen them without the venerable MJOLNIR Mk. VI armor on. They were taller than other Spartans, which was strictly true, but it wasn't like they were as large as the Sangheili. They had an air about them that made them seem larger than life. Shepard had heard similar things about Master Chief, but even those that had seen him and the Spartans of Red Team said that the Chief was just something else. He exuded power.

Shepard nodded in their direction and felt a certain degree of childlike satisfaction when they gave her a quick nod back.

The room itself had other people inside. Spartan Ray was lounging against a wall in a pair of Cargo pants and a loose-fitting shirt. That in itself was an oddity, there weren't many shirts that would look loose on a Spartan, and Shepard knew that Naiya wasn't the kind to wear loose-fitting clothes either.

"What's with the shirt?" Shepard asked.

Spartan Ray chuckled. "Ouch."

"Hey, it's a legit question."

Spartan Ray simply rolled her eyes and shook her head. By that point there were already more people walking inside the conference room. Shepard noticed that certain spots in the room were taped off and had a name inside of them so that everyone could view all attendees without interference. It seemed like this would be a large conference. The Spartan-III walked inside as well, he was wearing MJOLNIR armor as well, but his bald head was uncovered. She had met him once before, Jun, one of the few survivors of the Spartan-III program and a member of Noble. He would have been even more legendary than he already was had he not been in the same squad as A259 and B312.

The ONI liaison to the ship also showed up, shooting Shepard and Ray a quick nod before standing off to the side, holding a datapad close to her body. A couple of fireteam leaders showed up as well, finding spots around the room. There were a fair amount of Spartans in the room, but all of them gave the Spartan-IIs a wide berth. It was both out of respect and a degree of fear.

"Shep," Spartan Gabriel Thorne said in greeting as he approached them. "How's it going?"

"Could be worse," she replied. "You know Naiya?"

"We've met before," he said. "Any idea what this is all about."

"Time to make decisions," Shepard said. "Some of the names in in those squared off areas are big shots. We've got Harper, Cutter, and the members of the Security Council."

"Well damn," Thorne said, shaking his head slowly.

After that there was some mumbling amongst the attendees. Nobody really wanted to say anything out loud, so instead they made small talk. Heads turned towards the entrance as Commander Palmer walked inside, a DMR cradled across her body. Next to her were Spartan Castillo and Spartan Locke.

Cap immediately spotted her and Ray and shot them a quick shit-eating grin. He muttered something to Palmer that she couldn't hear before he moved towards them. He was the only Spartan other than Ray not wearing any armor, however, he did have a battle rifle and a pistol, making Ray the only Spartan to be unarmed in the room.

"Well I'll be damned," Ray said, smiling widely as Cap approached them.

Shepard glanced sideways at her and frowned ever so slightly. "You two guys fucking or something?"

"No!" Ray gasped, blushing.

"Working on it," Cap replied simultaneously, face expressionless. "Good to see you girls made it out alive."

Shepard smiled while Ray remained slightly mortified. "Same could be said for you. We thought you were done for."

"I've been through worse," he said. "Thorne, good to see you, man."

"Cap," Thorne said, smiling with slight amusement at the situation.

"I went through the casualty list," Cap told Shepard, "I didn't see Wattana or Parker there." He paused briefly. "I was hoping that was a mistake?"

Shepard's mouth opened before she snapped it close. She wanted to laugh despite herself, but she didn't know anyone that would make a joke that morbid about something that had happened so recently. Despite herself she found herself suppressing a small smile at the same time that Thorne and Ray looked away, obviously trying to do the same thing.

"No mistake there," Shepard replied. "Both of them are alive and kicking."

Cap shrugged. "There's always tomorrow. What's up with you Naiya?"

"Took a helluva beating," she said. "Doctor recommended a couple of weeks without any strenuous activity."

"Looks like you'll have to work on it a bit longer, eh?" Shepard said, elbowing Cap in the ribs.

Cap and Thorne chuckled while Spartan Ray rolled her eyes so far up that Shepard wouldn't have been surprised to see the optic nerve poking out the front.

"Are you going to tell us about what happened?" Shepard asked, her tone becoming more serious.

"I'm sure it'll pop up," he replied. "All in due time."

Captain Lasky walked inside the room as he said that. Everyone snapped to attention and saluted. Lasky barely seemed to notice before waving them away. He moved towards the large holotable in the middle of the room. Roland popped up and had a brief conversation with the captain before Lasky scratched the back of his head and sighed. Shepard had noticed a slight limp as he walked inside.

"Alright everyone, listen up," he said. "This now is an important meeting, might make it to the history books. Do not speak unless spoken to, that goes for you too, Sarah."

"Sir," she nodded in acknowledgement.

"Patch us in, Roland," Lasky said.

The generators hummed slightly and then immediately displayed holographic projections of several highly-ranked individuals around the room. Shepard knew most of them by sight and the ones that didn't she knew by name. Her stomach jumped a little bit at seeing so many big names.

"Let's make this quick, Lasky," a woman with a severe look to her face said. "I am not happy with the security accommodations."

As soon as she finished talking the woman turned towards Red Team and tilted her head ever so slightly. Shepard noticed that the leader of the Spartan-IIs replied in kind. The movement was barely perceptible.

"Of course, Admiral," Lasky said.

Shepard realized that this woman was Serin Osman, the Commander in Chief of ONI. Rumor had it that she had undergone augmentations herself.

However, she was not the only person there.

Fleet Admiral Harper sat in the middle of a holographic set of chairs, looking tired and frustrated. On either side of him sat Generals Hogan and Dellert of the Marines and the Air Force respectively. Hogan wasn't very well-liked, but despite his reputation he was a very competent man. Dellert looked more like an accountant than a military man, but Shepard knew that several Air Force airmen held him in high esteem. To Dellert's right sat General Strauss, a demigod if you asked anyone in the UNSC Army, almost as admired as the Chief himself. He managed to keep the Army relevant in an age where the Marines got all the funding and the lines at their recruiting stations went around the block. Vice Admiral Osman sat to Hogan's left.

Opposite them and forming some sort of semi-circle that excluded all the lower ranking Spartans and crew members of the Infinity sat the UEG Secretary of Defense. Shepard had seen pictures of Paul Russel before, and her understanding was that he had been instrumental in motivating troops on Earth during the Covenant invasion in '52. He looked surprisingly disinterested in the matters at hand.

The most surprising hologram was one that showed not one, but two Sangheili clad in full battle armor. One of them was unmistakable. The Arbiter. Shepard stared at the armor in mild awe. She knew that it had been designed to intimidate and to let everyone know that the person (or alien) wearing it was definitely in charge. The massive elite looked even larger in the elaborately decorated armor. Standing next to him and slightly behind was another Sangheili clad in white armor that appeared to have been polished a few thousand times prior to being put on. The quality of the projections was nothing to balk at, the Infinity was using full color displays that were rarely brought out.

"What the hell are they doing here," Cap muttered under his breath as the two Sangheili appeared.

"Well, the Arbiter is here because he leads the Sangheili," Ray began sarcastically. A quick look from Cap made her stop.

Shepard knew that Cap had gone through the majority of the Great War. She didn't have any love for the Covenant races, but she hadn't experienced firsthand what Cap had.

"Everyone's here," Lasky said, killing the murmurs that had arisen when the two aliens appeared. "Shall we begin?"

0254/3198 (Galactic Standard)/

Presidium, Citadel, Widow System

Special Tasks Group operative Mordin Solus was deeply terrified. He ran through the nearly-empty Citadel, holding a shotgun close to his body while he pressed his left hand against his hip, trying to keep more blood from leaking through the medigel. Half his unit had stopped reporting merely hours after landing on the Citadel and the other half had become embroiled in a firefight with unknown assailants. The firefight had been loud enough that Mordin could hear it from several kilometers away, but there had been absolutely no C-Sec response to the chaos.

Not that he was surprised, C-Sec had stopped responding to communications a few days back, and the Citadel had been deemed an emergency zone. The Turian soldiers were still trying to make their way through the Presidium, but those things were holding them in check. Asari commandos had been deployed in multiple places over the station, but cooperation with the Asari had broken down incredibly quickly. Mordin was part of the third attempt to remove the Salarian councilor from the citadel. The first attempt didn't really count, as it consisted of a small squad deployed towards the councilor's quarters while a larger force evacuated important Salarian personnel. It had failed spectacularly, as nobody had been prepared for what was going to happen. The entire squad had been wiped out, but not before they managed to get Valern back to safety inside the Presidium, where the regular guards had managed to keep the assailants away.

There had been surprisingly little information on the enemy, only that they seemed to mimic different life forms, particularly Turian and Batarians. He had not seen any of them up close yet, but he did have trouble identifying hostile and friendly Turians now that his IFF tags had been jammed.

He looked at his omnitool and sighed before he kept moving forward as fast as he dared.

The city was in surprisingly little chaos. Thousands of people had evacuated when the so-called discontent began. Somehow the criminal element had gotten word and larger and larger shipments of mercenaries and criminal gangs had infiltrated the Citadel. Crime had spiked alarmingly for a space of about a week, but after that something scary began to take place. Mordin didn't really know what it was, but the mass evacuations had taken place right after. Everyone that had access to a space-faring ship had made a run towards the Destiny Ascension to try to get to safety. The matriarch hadn't had the heart to blow up hundreds of families, and as such the vessel was now crammed with refugees. Apparently they had been trying to coordinate with the Republics to get the refugees to safety so that they could do their job, but they hadn't been able to communicate at all through the relay and they couldn't quite abandon the Citadel while Tevos was still inside. A few of the Turian carriers had been repurposed to transport the families off-system, but it took time to travel to safety, drop off hundreds of scared civilians, and then return. Not to mention that they had to be dropped off in a planet that had a semblance of a refugee camp.

It was, as the Turians said, a pretty fucked up situation.

He turned the corner to see three Turians standing close to each other. They were clearly not the friendly kind. From this distance he could tell that they were clearly not normal Turians. They had cybernetic implants of some sort, but they were so extensive that they looked more like robots that had been made to look like Turians than the other way around.

He raised his weapon and fired three times, taking their shields out before they could even turn around to face him. He raised his arm as his heat sink cooled and shot an incineration burst at them. They were close enough that all three caught on fire and were nearly disintegrated by the time he finally walked past them. Mordin could now feel that the medigel had stopped the bleeding and the local anesthetic was beginning to work. He'd have to get the injury looked at soon, but it should heal properly regardless.

He was almost to the target. He could see blood and signs of battle, but strangely enough there were no bodies present. He took a quick note of that, remembering that he hadn't really seen that many bodies here at all.

Hmm… interesting.

His musings were cut short as he finally reached the councilor's last known location. If his intel was correct, then Valern would be here. He looked around twice to make sure no one was there before tapping the code into the keypad. The light turned green and the door slip open. Mordin immediately found himself facing the twin barrels of a Vindicator assault rifle.

"Councilor Sparatus. Most unexpected. Wasn't aware that you would be here. This changes mission parameters."

"About time," Sparatus muttered, lowering his rifle. "Come in. Valern is this way."

"Councilor, you are injured. Do you require medical attention?"

"Not today," he said. "Believe it or not, it looks a lot worse than it is."

"Ah, finally," Councilor Valern said when he saw Mordin. "I was beginning to fear… abandonment."

"STG took its time," Mordin admitted. "Hurried."

"What's the exit plan?" Sparatus asked. "We've tried sneaking past the marauders, but we're not going to try that again."

"Oh no," Valern said, smiling slightly. "Most unpleasant experience."

"Original plan was to sneak back out. STG mapped vents. Original plan should still be viable. Numbers complicate things slightly."

"Well, let's get moving," the Turian councilor said.

"Wait. Timing important. Turian forces keeping enemy occupied. Marauders, you called them? Why?"

"Because they do a lot of marauding," he replied. "Better than calling them those things."

Mordin quickly tapped something into his omnitool before examining the room carefully. Two Turian C-Sec guards were dead in a corner, their armor had been too damaged to make much use of it, but Sparatus had put on the arm and leg coverings for protection. Valern had thrown on ill-fitting thigh armor and had a pistol strapped to his hip.

"Councilor. Was unaware you were weapons trained."

"I am not," Councilor Valern replied. "Sparatus insisted. Said it was needed."

"Taught him how to work the safety and cool the heat sink. He says he can aim well enough."

"How hard could it be?"

"Harder than it seems," Sparatus muttered. "Listen, um…"

"Operative Solus," Mordin introduced himself.

"Solus. Is the exit plan time sensitive?"

Mordin nodded.

"There's an important matter," Sparatus said.

"It can wait, we must hurry."

"No," Valern said. "Sparatus is right."

Mordin stopped and turned to look at the two councilors. "Explain."

"As you recall, the peace talks with the humans broke down rather quickly, right? You might be unaware, but our Spectre ranks have been decimated. It happened incredibly quickly, but the Spectre corps are now reduced to a half dozen individuals or so. The Asari Republics apparently had some sort of miscommunication between themselves, because their economic report didn't come in on time a week ago, sending the galactic economy into a brief panic. Couple that with a few reassigned fleets to pursue mercenary strikes and suddenly the Citadel is very vulnerable. Not only that, but Sur'Kesh, Palaven, and Thessia have reduced fleets defending them."

"There has been no indication of impending threats," Mordin said. "Need to get word out."

"It's too late," Sparatus said, shaking his head. "It's probably too late for us as well."

"Additionally, stock markets in Illium are falling," Valern said. "Economic panic. Disarrayed fleets. Perfect moment to strike."

"Is it the humans?" Mordin asked.

"Those things outside aren't of human origin," Sparatus said. "And the reason everything went to shit is that Tevos sabotaged the peace talks."

"Councilor Tevos!" Mordin exclaimed. "Please explain."

"She is no longer herself," Sparatus continued. "It was subtle at first, but she's clearly not the Tevos I knew. Every action she took facilitated this disaster and the war with the humans. It took very little to bring our entire way of life to an end."

"Tevos was still strong willed," Valern interjected. "Before she was lost-"

"Is Councilor Tevos dead?" Mordin asked.

"Might as well be," Sparatus sighed. "Before she completely lost control of herself she communicated with us through an encrypted message. Told us what was happening."

Mordin was a professional, but he also couldn't contain his curiosity at this point.

"She said it was the Reapers," the Turian said.

"Impossible. Reapers a myth. Old story."

"That's what I said," he agreed, "but the evidence is overwhelming. We are under attack by them."

"What do we know about them?"

"Not much," Valern said. "Tevos did not make much sense beyond warning of a threat. She spoke of a cycle and of ascension repeatedly. Most importantly, she warned us."

"Of what?"

"An invasion," Sparatus told him. "Whatever these Reapers are, they intend to subjugate the galaxy. Starting here."

"Can we stop them?" Mordin asked, still not fully believing the two councilors.

"Unlikely. Tevos said the Citadel would spawn the Reapers."

Mordin looked at his fellow Salarian. "What?"

As if on cue the floor shook. At first Mordin thought it was a nearby explosion, but it was obviously something much bigger than that.

"Mordin!" his radio crackled. "What is happening?"

If radio silence had been broken then it must've been serious.

"Unsure."

"The Citadel's arms are spreading open. Are the councilors safe?"

"Am with them," Mordin said.

"Get out of there now!"

"It's too late," Sparatus said.

"She warned us," Valern agreed. "Operative, we must leave. No time to prevent this anymore. Lead the way, we'll follow."

Mordin had a million questions racing through his mind. He was inclined to think that Tevos had lost her mind and these two were so shellshocked from having spent an entire week in the hellhole that the Citadel had become that they had believed whatever she told them. However, politicians or not, the three councilors were not average persons, they were chosen for various qualities that they possessed. Stupidity was not amongst those qualities. He'd give them the benefit of the doubt for now, besides, all he needed was to get them out the station and then he'd be able to actually try to get them to make sense. The two councilors appeared to want him to help with something regarding Tevos, but as soon as the station started shaking they changed their mind.

"Time to leave," Mordin said. "Team is waiting for my signal."

Sparatus and Valern looked at each other before shrugging and nodding back at him. They knew that whatever they wanted to do before was no longer an option. Mordin raised his omnitool to his mouth and gave the signal for Kirrahe and his men to move forward. They'd cut through the enemy and help him exfiltrate the two councilors.

He was shaking his head to himself as they moved. This didn't make any sense to him.

June 20, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/

UNSC Infinity, orbiting Ursa IV, Ursa System

The meeting was not going too well. Progress was being made, but it wasn't going particularly well. The Sangheili's cultural norms were too different, Shepard knew, they were asserting their dominance the way that was culturally appropriate for them to do so. It just so happened to be incredibly disrespectful from a human perspective. Every human in the room knew the reason behind the disrespect, but it was hard to keep a straight face when you're being insulted. To make matters worse, the two Sangheili were not any ignorant run-of-the-mill type, they were leaders that had interacted with humanity before. They knew that what they were doing could easily be considered offensive.

Soon enough the Spartans would begin posturing and the Sangheili would decide that they weren't really in any rush to crush the Covenant remnant, which would put too much strain on the UNSC Navy as they attempted to hold the line against Promethean attacks that were sure to come. Add to that the presence of the newcomers coupled with the very strong possibility that the Citadel races would not agree to an alliance, let alone a ceasefire, and it was a very difficult situation to manage.

Lasky was doing his best to arbitrate between every party involved, but between Osman's passive aggressiveness and the other members of the Security Council casually bringing up human ground victories where the two Sangheili had been present, it was hard for him to do much of anything. Thankfully, Fleet Admiral Harper had remained mostly silent. His hatred for the Covenant was legendary, he had lost thousands of men to the unstoppable juggernaut that the Covenant had been a few years back. Now he merely remained silent and answered any questions that were thrown his way.

It took a lot of arguing, but a very vague agreement was starting to take place. It seemed like humanity would defend their own space as well as certain sectors that the Sangheili fleet needed to keep free of Kig-Yar pirates. Meanwhile, the Sangheili were going to end what was left of 'Mdama's faction before they bolstered humanity's defenses, which by that point would surely be faltering, because that's what humanity did, hold and then slowly fall back.

If the last forty years were a good representation that is.

There were several important details that needed to be hashed out. The Sangheili wanted 'Mdama's head, but Osman was adamant that the UNSC should decide what to do with him. The Arbiter simply stated that if that was the case then it should be up to the Sangheili to decide what to do with Doctor Halsey, as she had committed crimes against the Sangheili as well.

Not a lot of people bought Halsey's defection. Spartan Palmer and Majestic were amongst the ones that did, but it was just not very easy to believe that the creator of the Spartan program would ditch humanity. Granted, the loss of an arm was bound to make anyone more than a little bit bitter, but actively working to destroy the humanity that she had sacrificed so much to protect? It seemed a like a stretch to Shepard.

"Fine," Vice Admiral Osman finally conceded. "You can keep 'Mdama."

"We won't keep him, she-imp," 'Vadum growled. "We'll merely kill him."

"Make sure you get the right one," General Dellert stated lazily. "Arbiter, can we agree on the general aspects of the plan?"

The elite paced slightly to its left, the hologram walked but stayed in place from everyone else's perspective. "Yes," the Arbiter finally said. "We'll prioritize ending 'Mdama's lies. Our scout ships have spoken of these… newcomers that you speak of. Reports are scarce, but they seem to match your descriptions."

"I would like to hear more about these new enemies that you speak of, our encounters with them haven't provided too much reliable information."

Shepard could hardly suppress a grin; that statement could only mean that the Sangheili ships that had come across the famed newcomers had been forced to retreat without getting any information. The same went for any ground units, the Sangheili were not known for conserving remains to acquire intel, but outright asking humanity for information meant that they had nothing to go on.

"We can help with that," Captain Lasky intervened before anybody else could fuck everything up with an inappropriate taunt. "Spartan Castillo? I've been told you had direct contact with the enemy."

Fuck.

Frank looked more annoyed than anything. "I'm sure that the reports compiled by Cutter's men and the troops down in Tsubasa should be more than enough for our… allies."

"Some firsthand information is always good," Lasky said with quiet wrath burning in his eyes.

Shepard had seen that look before, and Cap tried his hardest to delay his answer, but even he realized that he couldn't simply say no to something that could be crucial to humanity's survival. To his credit, he did maintain eye contact with Lasky the entire time before moving up to the large holotable in the middle of the room.

Shepard wondered once again how it was that he still hadn't been kicked out of everything military involved.

"Ah shit," she heard Ray mutter under her breath.

"So," Cap began, clasping his hands behind his back. "Ask away."

You could've heard a pin drop in the room.

The two elites seemed to take Cap in. They had no doubt noticed that most Spartans in the room had their armor on save for Ray and Cap. However, unlike Spartan Ray, Cap was now at the forefront of a multi-race galactic conference.

Fuuuuuuuck

"What do you know about them?" the elite in white, Rtas, asked.

"Not terribly much," Cap said with a shrug. "I fought them briefly and then tried to outrun them for the next day. I know about as much as I could gather from a couple of separate firefights and some secondhand accounts."

So far so good…

Spartan Locke seemed to have keyed into her discomfort, because he was staring at Cap with equal intensity in his eyes. Everybody in the room seemed on edge now, but Spartan Palmer took the cake, she looked like she was ready to shoot Cap in the back with her rifle before letting him ruin this stupid conference.

Shepard found her hand slowly moving down towards her hip where her pistol was at before she checked herself. This time she grinned to herself. He couldn't fuck up that badly, could he?

"On the run?" the Sangheili asked.

"Correct."

"And how did a mighty Spartan find itself in such a position."

Come on, man…

"I would assume that it happened in a similar way to your own soldiers who failed to bring back any reliable information. I let my guard down."

"How did that happen?"

"It's a bit of a long story, Commander 'Vadum," Lasky interjected rather quickly.

"Perhaps if we return to the matter at hand," the Arbiter told his subordinate with a rather growly tone, if that was even a thing.

"Of course, Arbiter."

"First off, we'd like to know what they look like."

"There's no simple answer to that," Cap said, "They had at least two different types, some of them looked like the Turians."

"Turians?" 'Vadum asked.

Roland produced a hologram of what a Turian looked like. The Sangheili commander had undoubtedly seen images of Turians before, but the limited intel that the UNSC had showed that Council incursions into Sangheili-held space had consisted mostly of vessels of Salarian origin as well as some unknowns that were presumably mercenary or pirate ships.

"Like that," Cap said, gesturing at the life-size hologram. "They look empty though, like their insides had been removed and replaced with biomechanics. More like the insides had been shuffled all together."

The Arbiter and 'Vadum looked at each other.

"The Parasite," 'Vadum exclaimed.

The room's mood changed suddenly. Shepard saw confusion, shock, and even worry in the faces around her. Most importantly, she was able to tell that the three Spartans of Red Team visibly tensed. Alice-130's hand reach slightly downwards towards her hip before she stopped herself. Shepard found herself looking at the Spartan's golden visor. She couldn't see her eyes, but she knew eye contact had been made.

Shepard remembered that the Spartan was still very young, having been frozen in stasis before she even hit her mid-twenties.

She looked back towards the middle of the meeting, the holographic faces were murmuring amongst themselves while most of the Spartan-IIIs appeared confused by the tense atmosphere in the room.

"No," Cap shook his head. "It wasn't that."

"Spartan!" Vice Admiral Osman shouted. "If you do not shu-"

"How would you know?" 'Vadum asked, cutting of the ONI director.

"I was there for that," Cap said.

At this point the murmurs had become conversations, the Security Council was arguing amongst themselves while Osman tried to get Cap to shut the hell up. The Spartans were confused and asking each other what the hell was going on. Lasky tried to get everyone to quiet down while the Arbiter switched to Sangheili and spoke to someone of frame.

"Have we met before?" 'Vadum asked.

Cap nodded, making Shepard squint a little. She knew that Ray and Thorne were the only ones that were still listening to this exchange while everyone else argued about floods or some other code word.

"Were we on the same team?" the Sangheili asked, crossing its arms.

Cap smiled. "If we had been on different sides do you think we would both be here?"

"One of us wouldn't have made it."

"You're right about that," Cap retorted.

The Sangheili commander raised its head slightly and grunted before turning to speak to the Arbiter. It took a minute or two, but finally Lasky got everyone to be quiet.

"There is no indication," Lasky bellowed, "there is no indication that these newcomers are the same enemy. Spartan Castillo… are you cleared for…?"

Castillo looked at Osman before looking back at Lasky and nodding.

"And they're not the same?"

Cap shook his head. "I'd bet my life on it."

There was a collective sigh of relief in the room.

What the fuck just happened? Shepard asked herself.

Spartan Palmer was pacing back and forth. She was angry once again. Lasky knew it didn't take much to get Sarah angry, especially nowadays.

"Relax, Sarah."

"Relax?" she asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Not gonna throw 'with all due respect' before that?" Lasky asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Palmer just looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You do realize what just happened, right? We willingly put all of our assets at risk with only the vague promises of a fucking elite to assure us that they're not going to try and fry Earth again? Are you kidding me Tom? That same alien was in charge of frying Reach less than a decade ago and now we're trusting them to keep our flanks safe? This is madness."

"We live in weird times, Sarah," Lasky told her. "I fought the Covenant for a hell of a lot longer than you have. I lost a lot of friends to them too. I know how you feel Sarah."

"This isn't right," she said. "I understand working with the Arbiter and his faction, but trusting them to this extent?"

Lasky shrugged. "There are bigger things going on. The galaxy has suddenly become a very large place. We should take comfort in knowing that we're still a major player here."

Truth be told, Lasky was worried as well. He knew that the Arbiter would keep his word, but he also knew that there was great animosity between the Sangheili and humanity. With a good reason too, one that was still fresh in the memories of plenty of people. Seven years might be a long time to get over the loss of all your friends and family, but it is not enough time to forgive and accept, especially when those that killed your friends and family look like something that a child might conjure up in a nightmare and still talk about their wartime accomplishments with pride.

Not that it was any different on the other side, plenty of Sangheili had lost their own friends and family, but more importantly, they still had a sense of superiority and believed that humans were still inferior warriors.

It wasn't a universal feeling, but it only took one moron to start a war.

"And to top it all off I find out that one of my Spartans, my worst Spartan, not only survived an ordeal that should've killed my best Spartan, but also that he has some sort of clearance that I can only begin to dream of? I still don't know what the hell they were talking about."

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Lasky said. "It's not up to me."

She rolled her eyes again, something that was beginning to annoy Lasky.

"You knew what Frank's deal was coming into this," he reminded her. "You chose to put him in charge of a fireteam even though you were only allowed to read three paragraphs from his rather sizeable dossier and you chose to let him keep command of that fireteam after his performance tanked. Whatever your problem with him is, you can't get mad at something that happened before you even enlisted."

Sarah finally stopped pacing and turned to look at me.

"That doesn't mean I can't be upset that I'm so out of the loop. If I am to be the leader of these men then I need to at least know what they know, Tom."
Lasky nodded, she seemed to finally be calming down. Sarah was a very capable leader, but she was also an incredibly emotional person. When Lasky said emotional, he really meant quick to anger. Plenty of sailors had made more than a couple of jokes about Palmer constantly being on her period. Someone had put a quick stop to that, but Lasky had to admit to himself that some of those jokes were nothing short of hilarious, however sexist they were.

"Everything is just…" she began. "I just don't feel like I'm in control anymore, Tom. We've got Shepard leading a task force to try and establish relations with the Citadel forces and she's not just security, they're just sending her because she took some bullshit courses in diplomacy. Then you have Locke and Osiris leaving for God knows where to track the fucking Master Chief who it now turns out went AWOL. Not to mention the fact that Frank's so-called expertise with these newcomers means that he'll redeploy to the frontlines because apparently being chased for eight hours means you know everything that there is to know about killing a certain type of enemy. But you know what pisses me off the most?"

"Do tell."

"The fact that there's a new galactic player on the stage and the best name we have for them is the newcomers. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?"

"We'll get there," Lasky told her. "For now I suggest you calm the fuck down and stop acting like a child. It's been a long and confusing day for all of, but at this point all these things are out of our control. I don't want to have you confined to your quarters, but it's not good for the men to see you walking around muttering to yourself while looking like you're about to kill someone."

She sighed and sat down.

"Not only that," Lasky continued, "Shepard isn't leading this mission, she's providing security first and foremost. Her experience in the Citadel made her the logical choice. Castillo would've been an option as well, but I'm sure that there's not a lot of people that would trust him to help broker a galactic agreement. Osiris is tracking down the Chief, I know, but we need Red Team where they're at their most successful. And unfortunately we cannot defend against the threat of these newcomers and guard ourselves against 'Mdama and the Prometheans while also patrolling the borders of Sangheili space. It's a difficult situation, Sarah, but that's just the way it is.

Palmer's face switched between various expressions, but in the end she settled for something that reminded Lasky of helplessness or resignation.

"Relax," he told her.

"How can I fucking relax right now?"

"Because it's the only thing we can do."

It wasn't exactly a good working environment. Then again, nobody really expected the military to be a stress-free place of work, particularly when they had signed up to be the most elite soldiers in times of war. They had signed up for exactly this kind of bullshit. Then again, nobody was happy about having to deal with this kind of bullshit.

"Covvies, Citadel, UNSC, et al," Parker said, his English accent making the list sound almost deliciously sexy, Shepard thought.

"Not to mention everything else," Klahan added.

"I did say et al," Parker reminded him. "It means pretty much that."

"Where did you go to school again?" Shepard asked Klahan, elbowing him slightly.

The Spartan simply rolled his eyes. The three of them had been told to pack up their things as soon as possible. They were to be assigned to a separate ship and with the help of the prisoners and some intel they'd be contacting Citadel forces and looking to establish a cease fire and hopefully work towards fighting these newcomers together. At least that's what they had been told, Shepard had been operating at maximum level of confusion for a while now and she was beginning to think that it wasn't about to change anytime soon.

"Shep, do we know what's going on?" Parker asked. "Is it just going to be us three?"

"Palmer said that we'd get assistance from some of the prisoners," Klahan told him. "I'm assuming that there will be additional fighting units on board with us."

"But we're top dog?" Parker asked.

"We've never been top dog before," Shepard said.

"Hard to be when you're sharing a ship with the best warriors to ever fight," Spartan Wattana muttered, looking over at Parker as he shook his head.

Shepard nodded in slight agreement, but this whole thing still had her confused. She understood the basic premise of the plan, but she was still trying to wrap her head around the whole situation. A few weeks ago they were fighting an ancient alien that belonged to a race that had once had a galactic empire. The Forerunners were capable of things that Shepard could barely even begin to imagine and they were already fighting against their warrior leader. Not only that, but prior to that they had been fighting a war for survival against genocidal aliens that could do things with their technology that humanity was only just beginning to dream of. There were a lot of things going on out there, but now there were even more alien collectives trying to kill them. One of them had magic, the other one had come out of nowhere and seemed awfully close to sci-fi zombies. Yet somehow there was something else out there that had scared everyone that knew about it.

Shepard was not happy to be left out in the dark. It was like when you showed up to a conversation that older kids were having and they started talking almost in code because they didn't want you to understand what they were saying. That's how she had felt during the meeting and every moment after it.

Packing all her clothes into her UNSC-issued duffel bag was not doing anything to alleviate those feelings, especially when Parker and Wattana were horsing around. She could tell they were bothered by not knowing, but they were taking it like you'd expect your standard grunt to take it. Nod, say 'yessir', and carry on like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Shep, you alright?" Parker asked.

"Yeah, just thinking," she admitted.

"Don't worry about it Shep," Wattana told her. "Some things we aren't meant to know."

"An enemy that might come into play and hurt humanity's cause even more we're not meant to know?" she asked.

"We're boots on the ground," Parker told her. "All we need to know is our objective and that's that. You shouldn't worry too much, Shepard."

"You won't be saying that once you're going up against whatever new enemy we'll be facing."

"And when they come, we'll just kill them like all the others," Spartan Wattana told her with a grin. "It's what we do."

Shepard rolled her eyes, but it was hard to disagree or contest that statement. Instead she simply folded another MJOLNIR-compatible undershirt and proceeded to put it in her duffel bag. She had a bunch of clothes in there already, so she needed to save some space for boots and other things. It was unfortunate that all her clothes were grey, utilitarian, and dull. If she was lucky she'd get some black or maybe some Marine Corps green, but that was only if she was really lucky.

As she shoved a pair of boots into her duffelbag Shepard heard her datapad chime. She glanced at it to see that she had gotten a briefing message. She finished shoving her boots inside the bag and then picked up the datapad. She read the message and raised her eyebrows slightly.

"We good to go?" Locke asked his team.

The three Spartans were already rocking their full armor and looked ready to go. Spartan Douglas-042 had asked to have a few words with him before they left. Locke had taken his advice to heart, but his loyalty was to the UNSC first and foremost. If the Chief was AWOL like the rumors said, then it was his duty to apprehend him and return him to human-held space. Red Team hadn't been particularly happy with that, but they understood.

Locke was silently thankful that Red Team had gone missing earlier in the war, if they had spent as much time with the Chief as the other Spartans then he wasn't sure that they wouldn't have actively fought them on this. There was enough apprehension regarding this particular aspect of the plan as it was, even from the ones that had suggested it in the first place. Not even Osman appeared too comfortable with having the Chief tracked down and hunted.

Why would anyone be?

"Good to go," they replied in unison.

Thanks to Colonel-Commissar2468 for proofreading this.

Well, don't really have many excuses for this. Sorry for the delay. The story isn't dead and there's no plans for it to be abandoned, but the rate of update will definitely be a lot slower than we would have hoped for. Again I apologize and hope that you enjoyed this chapter.

Stay strong.

-casquis