Serena had powered down almost all of her higher systems, retaining only enough cognitive processes to keep watch on the ship's diagnostics. It was standard procedure for AIs, their own version of cryo sleep. The captain had given her the responsibility of watching over his crew as the cryogenic sleep preserved them through their long, slow, march through the stars. For twenty four years she had watched, almost dozing to keep her own mind preserved as she guided the crew of the UNSC Spirit of Fire. Serena was a second generation Smart AI, capable of thousands of separate processes at any moment. She could run the defense suites aboard the Spirit of Fire, coordinate data from multiple dirt side fire bases, hack enemy communications, all the while having a highly intellectual conversation with Doctor Allers in her science lab. But now, to maintain any semblance of sanity, she had limited herself. Limited to the point where she almost missed the message as it swept past the ship's communication arrays.

The message was garbled, incoherent from the distance it had covered. But underneath the static and white noise caused by the background radiation of space, she noted the familiarity of the repetitious signal that seemed to mirror her own. Her mind came to life as she analyzed and pulled apart the anomalous signal, searching for its origin. There it was, laying before her, a standard distress call. A standard UNSC distress call that emanated from a nearby solar system. A distress call ment a ship, a ship meant a Shaw-Fujikawa translight drive, and a slip space engine meant a far faster means of travel than the monotonous pace of sub-FTL speeds. With a tweak of the engine's output she altered course, something easily rectified if this was nothing more than a fool's errand, to investigate the signal. She hoped, for not only her sake but that of the crews, that it was not in vain.

Approximately 8 hours later

Mayday Mayday Mayday- This is UNSC FFG201, Forward Unto Dawn requesting immediate evac. Survivors aboard - prioritization code Victor zero five dash three dash Sierra one one seven.

Serena allowed herself a small smile, the tendrils of her synthetic mind unfurled to their full acting potential. After hours of travel the message had finally become clear. It had not been emanating from the system so much as from a ship passing through the outer edge of the small solar system. She accessed the Spirit's sensor suites, micro-filament strands of wire heating up to break off the ice that had formed on the dormant systems throughout the outer hull of the former colony ship turned warship and fleet tender. The scanner made its run, picking up a small yellow sun orbited by five planets.

She brought up a map of the galaxy in her mind, plotting their course from the Forerunner Dyson sphere to their current location. They were still hundreds, if not thousands, of light years from the nearest human controlled space. She doubted that the Spirit's fusion engines and cryogenic sleep pods would last the centuries it would take to return to human territory without using Slip Space.

The Dawn would be coming into view in the next few minutes. It was time to wake the Captain.

Captain James Cutter fell to his knees as the Cryo pod opened. He gagged, his stomach reeling as it sought to expunge the nutrient fluids that had helped keep him alive.

"Relax, Captain." Serena's avatar rose from a pedestal near where he knelt. Her digital hair fell in long dark strands to the middle of her back. Her features could be described as Germanic with high cheekbones and a narrow chin all surrounding a straight nose situated below a high, intellectual, forehead. Another descriptor, perhaps a more accurate descriptor, would be the word stern.

James took the AI's advice, relaxing and letting his body do what needed to be done. He retched, expunging the vile tasting milky liquid. He blinked, his eyes blurry as he watched the bile seep into the drains that lined the front of the pods. He coughed, forcing up the last remnants before standing on shaking legs, "How long?" It was a simple question, but one that held a prominent place.

"It has been twenty four years, nine months, eighteen days and three hours since the crew entered Cryogenic sleep."

The fact that it had been almost twenty five years, the fact that most of the people he knew back before would either be dead or close to it settled on his shoulders like a heavy weight, "Serena, why did you wake me up? What happened?" He had informed the AI, before stepping into the pod, that he and the crew were to remain frozen except for emergencies or till either they arrived in UNSC space.

"Not an emergency, Captain, don't worry about that. But I may have found us a quicker way home. I've taken the liberty of waking the rest of the bridge crew, along with engineering and any other critical crew." Serena had a look of smug satisfaction on her face as James scowled, wiping what little bile stuck to the ends of his salt and pepper mustache with the back of his hand. She looked to Cutter's right as more of the pods opened, spilling their occupants onto the deck in the same unceremonious fashion as their captain.

"What do you mean?" He had always hated the moments after leaving the Freezer, as it always left his brain feeling slow and muddled as it tried to warm up with the rest of his body. He watched his XO, Lieutenant Hannah Shepard, tumble from her pod, her jet black hair pulled back in a regulation ponytail.

"A distress signal, UNSC. It's definitely a ship, and if it has a working Slip Space drive..."

"Then we have a way home. Alright, Serena, anything else?" He had stepped to the side to help Shepard to her feet as the woman struggled to stand.

"Isn't there always? It can wait till you're on the bridge, Captain." Serena folded her arms behind her back, giving off the air of a matriarchal teacher dealing with an inquisitive student before her avatar winked out.

James shook his head at the AI before turning to his exec, "Lieutenant, get the crew ready and have them man their posts. Have Serena sound General Quarters in thirty minutes."

She nodded a few times, hands on her hips as she took deep breaths, before answering, "Yes, sir. GQ in thirty." She looked at him, her eyes black pools that shown from a narrow face was a hue of reddish brown with features that bespoke of a mixed ancestry, like many humans. She stood straight and snapped off a crisp salute before turning to find her NCO's and division heads.

Twenty five minutes later he found himself on the ship's bridge, showered, shaved, dressed in a fresh uniform and a cup of strong, albeit nasty tasting, coffee in hand. He observed the bridge crew as they went about their duties, running diagnostics and other check on systems both critical and non to ensure that nothing had broken down during their long sleep.

He was always impressed by his bridge crew's ability to leap back into action, no matter how long they spent in Cryo. He sipped from the mug, wishing some of the artificial sweeteners had survived on board as he grimaced. Those had been lost, 'acquired' by the Huragok they had brought on board. Over the next few minutes he glanced at his watch as it ticked off the seconds. As it's digital face hit zero the ship was filled with the blaring General Quarters alarm. He kept his eyes on his watch as he listened for the reports of the various divisions reporting in as Lieutenant Shepard relayed them to him.

"Bridge, reporting in.

Engineering, reporting in.

Gun crews reporting in.

Damage control teams, reporting in.

Mess teams, reporting in.

Marine detail, reporting in.

All awakened sections reporting in, Skipper."

James nodded as he watched the time, not bad, considering how long they had been on ice, "Any issues, XO?"

"She's running tight, sir." Shepard, who had pulled her hair up into a bun, smoothed out a crease in her uniform.

He nodded, "Alright. Serena, play me that distress signal." He sipped the coffee as he listened to the message play over the bridge speakers. He looked over to Shepard when he heard her speak, asking Serena a question.

"What kind of prioritization code is that?"

"Spartan. I don't know which one, as I don't have access to the UNSC code systems at the moment." Serena's avatar stood on a centrally mounted pedestal, "Such codes are highly classified."

"We don't need code books to figure this one out. XO, get Red One up here. If anyone will know who this Spartan is, it'll be a Spartan."

Shepard nodded before turning to the ship's internal communication system. Her voice boomed out over the speakers, "Petty Officer Sierra-092, report to the bridge. I say again, Petty Officer Sierra-092 report to the bridge, as soon as possible."

Jerome-092 marched up to the Spirit's bridge with his helmet tucked under his arm, allowing the ships lighting to reflect off his dark skin. He came to a halt before captain Cutter and gave a crisp salute.

"Reporting as ordered, Sir."

Cutter returned the salute and waved the Spartan forward, and directing Serina to replay the message, "Do you recognize that ID code?"

He watched as the Spartan nodded his head before answering.

"Yes, sir. That would be Sierra-117, the code is normally used for high priority messages." Jerome paused, his eyes flicking between the captain and the holographic image of the wrecked ship that sat before them. "I'm guessing this is a rescue mission?"

Cutter clasped his hands behind his back, "Recovery would be more accurate. Red team's mission will be to board the Dawn and recover that Spartan. After that you will assist the Marine engineering teams in recovering the Shaw-Fujikawa drive and any other weapons and technology we can scrounge up. List will be with the engineering detail, so try to keep our new friend out of trouble."

Lists Heavily to the Right, or List, was one of nearly a half dozen Huragok Engineers that had been brought on board the Spirit while the ship fought inside the Dyson Sphere. Hell, Jerome thought, brought wasn't even the right word. Rescued was more like it, as they had found the creatures in a Covenant camp where they had been attempting to rig explosive vests to the creatures.

"List and the others survived the trip, sir?"

Cutter grunted, running his fingers along his mustache, "Did more than just survive. They've been fixing and improving the ship as we were on ice. Also made a few more of themselves, from the looks of it."

"Sir! Target is coming into view now." Came the call from one of the bridge's sensor operators.

Cutter turned, facing the observation window. In the distance, standing out against the inky black of the void was a small pinpoint of light. As he waited and watched, it slowly grew in size till it was clearly visible.

"What the Hell happened here."

The ship before them had been cut in half, as if some giant being had torn it apart like a chicken wing so all that was left was the aft of the ship floating in the void. What little momentum the derelict had let the ship spin slightly, the matte white crest of the UNSC highlighted against the ship gray battleplate. Cutter began barking orders for scans before hr swiftly turned, facing the Spartan, "Get your team ready, Petty Officer."

Jerome nodded, saluted once again and turned on his heel. The last thing he heard was the communications officer reporting that there were no response to hails from the ship.

Jerome made his way through the Spirit's halls to the secondary armory, where he found the rest of his fireteam. Alice-130 and Douglas-042 looked up from their seats on the reinforced benches, both, like Jerome were in their armor, their helmets at their side, as to be ready at a moments notice. Alice spoke first, asking a simple one worded question.

"Mission?"

"Mission." Was Jerome's response as he waved them over to a small pedestal that stood in a corner of the room. He pressed a button and the holographic image of the Dawn spring up before them. "We are to board the Dawn, recover a Tier 1 asset, and then assist the engineers in seeing if it's slipspace drive is still operable."

Douglass shrugged his shoulders, "Really, sending Spartans on a recovery mission? The captain can't be expecting any sort of resistance, could he?" He kept his eyes on the holographic wreck.

"Depends on what this asset is. Did Cutter mention…?" Alice let the question hang in the air as she turned her gaze from Douglas to Jerome.

Jerome nodded, and smiled, "Aye, he did. John is on that ship." He watched as smiles creeped across Alice and Douglas's faces.

"John… well, he was always lucky." Alice turned to look at the hologram, joining Douglas in his study of the ship.

"It looks like someone took an energy sword to it."

Jerome nodded slowly, "Never seen damage like that to a ship before. What's more worrying is that the front half of the ship isn't anywhere in system." He watched the other two Spartans chew on that, Alice quite literally as she worked her jaw in thought.

"Slipspace failure? No, if the engine blew it would have taken the aft of the ship, not the fore."

"The engineering computer should have records of what happened. We'll take three birds, one for us, one for the engineers, and one for overwatch and recovery." Jerome reached forward and rotated the holographic layout of the ship. "The engineering team will board via the Universal Docking Ring and make their way to engineering. We'll land and breach here," He pointed at the top of the ship, next to where scans placed a Havoc launch site, "and make our way through to the cryo bays. Once we have our assets secured we'll meet up with the other team and assist them in completing the mission."

"Assist them? How, by picking heavy things up and putting them down?" Alice questioned, putting on her worst impression of their fellow Spartan Jorge-052.

Jerome let out an amused chuckle, "Babysitting. The captain doesn't entirely trust those gas bags. We don't know enough about them, so he wants us to keep an eye on them. Also, yes, we may have to pick up heavy things and put them down or breach a bulkhead or two. Any other questions?" With a silent shaking of heads from the other two Spartans Jerome took his helmet in hand and pulled it over his head.

"Let's go get our boy."