Dust and Echoes (RWBY/Halo)

Chapter 7: Face to Face

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UNSC Everest, Valiant-class Super-Heavy Cruiser

Lunar Orbit, Unknown Terrestrial Planet, Unknown System

November 29th, 2540 01:45 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

When John-117 arrived back onto the Everest, it was a quiet, somber affair. None of his temporary squadmates said a word on the entire flight back, and as soon as he disembarked he calmly walked straight to the bridge to speak to Admiral Cole. In his mind, he wondered if the mission would be considered a failure. By all accounts, they more than got actionable intel on the ground below. But at the cost of the lives of his men. He hadn't received reports back from the others, but he knew in his gut that other teams suffered the same fate. The casualties for the teams without SPARTAN commandoes would undoubtedly be even worse, and he didn't like to think about it. But he did so all the same, just as he went over every single scenario his team would have faced.

Could he have done anything different? John knew he most certainly could have, the most obvious being that they stay hidden and not do anything. By following Cole's orders to the letter, John felt that all of his squad would have survived, while hundreds of innocent civilians would have been slaughtered instead. Eaten alive by what could only be described as monsters. No one, not even the Covenant, deserved that, so he knew that, morally speaking, stepping in was the right thing to do. Perhaps they could even leverage their intervention in future diplomacy, point to it to show that they come in peace. But John didn't know if that was merely his subconscious trying to justify the unnecessary risk he put his squad under or not, and he clenched his fist in self-recrimination.

When he finally entered the bridge, he saw Admiral Cole standing over the holotable, with Hannibal projected next to him. John gave a crisp salute, both due to Cole being his superior officer and a person he respected immensely. Even more than his own SPARTANs, Admiral Cole was the greatest weapon humanity had against the Covenant, managing to win each of his engagements against their technologically superior fleet. Albeit at great cost, but that was something all of the UNSC knew all too well.

"At ease, Master Chief," Cole said without even needing to turn around. John did as instructed and stood straight up, allowing Cole to turn around and look into his golden reflective visor. Cole's face was weary, the stress of the current situation adding onto the stress built up over the course of years. He looked tired, and John's sympathy for the man grew.

"Sir, I'm here for an in-person debriefing, and to subject myself for disciplinary action," John declared, and Admiral Cole raised an eyebrow.

"I can understand the first, but why the second?" Cole asked, already knowing the answer.

"I skirted the words of your orders which resulted in a fatality," John answered, and Cole nodded.

"Yes, of course." Cole nodded, then looked at the Master Chief with a cold, hard stare. "I'm aware of what you did, Spartan. Your orders were to go onto the planet and recon the terrain then report back your findings without being seen by the natives. Instead, you and your team decided to intervene in an attack on a native village from the planet's hostile fauna. An ODST died because of that."

"I understand, sir," John somberly replied, already feeling the punishment that was about to be inflicted upon him. Would he be demoted? Stripped of his command over the SPARTANs? In his opinion, that would be the worst punishment they could give, but he kept himself professionally stoic as Cole took in a breath.

"But, in light of the situation, I'm going to let you and the other teams off with a warning," Cole revealed, surprising the Master Chief.

"Sir? I don't understand," John admitted. "I disobeyed your orders."

"You disobeyed the letter of my orders, not the spirit," Cole argued. "We were monitoring your position from orbit, and your team took great care to not be seen directly by the natives. Whether or not it worked remains to be seen, but even then, none of us could have predicted those…monsters to be down there, much less humans."

"Are we certain they're human, sir?" John asked, and Hannibal nodded.

"We've sequenced the DNA samples you and the other teams provided," Hannibal answered. "We even managed to obtain a few relatively intact bodies. Preliminary results have shown they are, indeed, human. It'll be another hour until the final results come in, at which point we'll have more answers."

"With that in mind," Cole continued, "it only makes sense that upon seeing them in danger, you and the other teams would step in. We trained you to protect human lives, and that's exactly what you tried to do. In a way, it's commendable. Still, do not do this again, Spartan. Next time, I will not be so lenient."

John was silent for a split second, then nodded. "I understand. Thank you, sir."

Cole nodded back, then turned back to his holotable. "You're dismissed. Get some rest, Spartan. I have a feeling the next few days will be quite hectic."

"Of course," John said, then prepared to turn around but stopped. He looked back at his superior office and asked, "If I may make a suggestion, sir?"

"About what, Master Chief?" Cole asked.

"About returning to the planet surface," John clarified. He knew they would be going back down there, and Cole knew it too. When the Admiral nodded, John continued, "Those monsters down there were highly resistant to small arms fire. Only concentrated fire and heavy ordinance affected them. When we go back down there, a few fireteams will not be enough to ensure proper security."

"You're recommending full deployment," Cole declared, knowing exactly where John was going.

"Not entirely," John replied with a small shake of his head. "That might send the wrong message. But I would recommend at least a hundred marines outfitted with assault rifles, heavy weapons, and accompanied by ample air support and Warthog-mounted weapons. ODSTs should also be on standby for rapid insertion at a moment's notice. Anything less would be inviting a slaughter."

Cole nodded and hummed, then said, "I appreciate the advice, Master Chief. Dismissed."

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 crisply saluted, then turned on his heels and walked out of the bridge.

November 29th, 11:15 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

The entire ship was thawed out and awake, now. As such, the mess bay was completely active, bustling with marines as they ate with their squads and gossiped among each other. The rest of the ODSTs were awake as well, most of them silent as they mourned the loss of their comrades. John and the rest of Blue Team remained separate from the rest of them, not comfortable interacting with non-SPARTANs. They were still clad in their MJOLNIR armor, sans helmet, offering the marines a rare look at what a SPARTAN-II actually looked like.

"God, do they always look so pale?" a few of them muttered as they glanced at the super soldiers, but Blue Team paid them no mind. Instead, they focused on eating their rations in relative silence. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they were better than nothing.

"Those freaks got our friends killed," an angry ODST hissed from the opposite side of the room, John's augmented sense of hearing picking him up as though he was standing right next to them. "They're not even doing anything, just sitting there by themselves."

"Knock it off," another ODST countered, John recognizing it as the voice of Sergeant Li. "We knew what we were doing. If I was in charge, I would have done the exact same thing."

"And it wasn't 058 that led us into those wasps. If anything, she saved our lives," another ODST, whom Linda recognized as Jameson, added. "She was like a god with that sniper rifle. Damn bugs never even stood a chance."

"Yet she wasn't fast enough to save your LT."

"Neither were we, and no one could have predicted that would happen. Blaming her isn't fair and you know it."

Their conversation continued like that, but John turned his attention towards Linda. She was as stoic as ever, but he recognized the look in her eyes. She agreed with them, felt that she should have been fast enough to prevent Lieutenant Gamal's death. John focused on her, silently telling her that it wasn't her fault. If anything, he felt she should be praised for getting everyone else out successfully. Thanks to their years of training and fighting side by side, Linda understood him perfectly and drew a smile across her lips with her finger while nodding.

John nodded back, then turned his head as he noticed Lieutenant Kalib enter the mess hall. Unlike before, she didn't even spare him a glance as she silently walked over to grab her food, then sat down at an empty table and began eating. The other ODSTs glared at her, and John knew why. It was well known what the recon teams encountered on the planet's surface, both the humans and the outright monsters that preyed on them. Out of all the teams sent down, only Kalib's saw a native village attacked and did nothing. All they did was watch, then once the monsters left moved in and recovered what they could before extracting. John ignored the angry mutters the ODSTs were sending her way, with words like 'coward' and other less glamorous terms thrown about, and instead focused on the thousand-yard stare she was giving her food instead of eating it. He recognized that look. It had been on far too many marines for him to count, and already he knew what to do. His SPARTANs did as well, and as such did nothing to stop him as John stood up and walked over to Lieutenant Kalib's table.

She barely even acknowledged his presence as he sat down across from her, and for a few moments all there was between them was silence.

"Lieutenant Kalib," John greeted, hoping for a response. She didn't give it at first, then slowly moved her head to give him a blank stare.

"Master Chief," she quietly said, then turned back to her food. John frowned slightly, already seeing the signs of intense trauma. He had to handle this delicately. After a moment to collect his thoughts, John rested his arms against the table.

"I know what you and your squad did," John confirmed, and Kalib flinched, "and I'm not going to say whether or not you did the right thing. That isn't for me to decide. What I can say is that you kept your squad alive with no casualties. You followed Cole's orders to the letter and accomplished the mission. That's all anyone could ask of you."

Kalib remained silent for a moment, looking down at the table. John was worried that he may have accidentally said the wrong things, as he was unfortunately prone to do with non-SPARTANs, but before he could say anything else she began to speak again.

"There were over three-hundred people in that village," Kalib whispered, her voice seemingly echoing across the room like a sonic boom. "Parents, grandparents, even children. All of them were human, even if some had animal parts on their bodies. They were just…living their lives. A few kids playing in the street as their moms and dads watched over them, guards keeping an eye outside their walls. It was peaceful. Then those…things, those monsters showed up out of nowhere. Everything turned into chaos so fast. I'd been getting the reports, I knew just how dangerous those things were, and…"

Kalib gulped, biting back tears, then muttered, "I was in a position to help them. We could have taken a few out, at least. Maybe even saved the village. But there were so many, and they didn't notice us as they slaughtered those villagers. I…I chose my squad over them, and I had to watch as every single person in that village was hunted down and killed."

She released a solemn laugh, tears running down her face. "There was a kid, couldn't have been more than two years old. Had little horns like a cow coming out of his head. I saw him and his mom try to escape, an-and they were both eaten. Got cut off by a wolf thing and devoured, just that that."

She snapped her fingers in emphasis, adding, "By the time they left, and it was safe enough to go in, there was hardly anything left. You could only tell somebody lived there because of all the blood. Heh, it was a miracle we got bodies at all."

She shot her bloodshot eyes towards the Master Chief, shouting, "So yeah, I kept my squad alive and accomplished the mission by throwing three-hundred innocent people to the wolves! You tell me whether or not that was the right call!"

John was silent, as was the rest of the entire mess bay. Kalib, openly sobbing, croaked, "Well?! Tell me!"

John remained quiet, not knowing how to answer. Then, he softly admitted, "I don't know."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought," Kalib replied, then returned back to her food. The message was clear; his presence was no longer welcome. With a heavy heart, John stood up and left the sobbing ODST behind, silently sending a message to the bridge requesting that Lieutenant Kalib and her team be taken off of the active duty roster for the foreseeable future. She was in no condition to fight anytime soon, and John could only hope that she eventually would be again.

November 30th, 2540 17:40 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

The bridge of the Everest was awash with activity, technicians and ensigns working at their stations as they reported on the ship's status. Repairs were still underway, but until they managed to make it back to UNSC space and a refit yard, they would have to make do on their own. At the very least they were able to send a comm buoy out, detailing their location as well as what they had discovered. With any luck, UNSC reinforcements would arrive within the next two weeks.

"Sir, all marines and army troopers are at operational status, ready to depart on your command," Hannibal reported, popping back into existence from his holotable.

"Good," Admiral Cole replied, folding his arms behind his back. "Have we received any transmission from the natives?"

"Not yet, sir, but we have been picking up more chatter," Hannibal answered.

"Can you understand any of it?"

"Not yet. At our current rate, I expect it to take a month at the very least," Hannibal admitted. "I have been able to determine more about the natives from the samples we obtained, however."

"Are the bodies still intact?" he asked, and Hannibal nodded.

"As per your orders, Admiral," the Smart AI reported. Cole nodded, turning his attention back to the holotable. He had given very specific orders to the medical staff onboard the Everest to ensure that the bodies remained as intact as possible. These weren't Covenant they were dealing with, and returning the bodies would be a good token to show their goodwill. At the same time, they needed to know more about these people, and the recovered bodies allowed a perfect opportunity to do so.

"What have you found?" Cole asked, and Hannibal brought up a series of images onto the holotable in response. They showed various DNA sequences and analysis on various samples of muscles, bones and more.

"We were able to recover five mostly intact bodies," Hannibal explained. "Three male, two female, one of whom had a pair of canine ears on the top of her head, with their bone ages ranging from sixteen years of age to sixty-two. A small sample size, admittedly, but it does have a decent enough spread to make approximate assumptions about their biology."

"I don't like assumptions, Hannibal," Cole pointed out with a frown.

"Neither do I, Admiral, but until we establish a more direct dialogue, assumptions are all we have to work with," Hannibal declared. Neither he nor Cole liked being left in the dark, but this was all they had to go on, so they might as well make the most of it.

"Well, it can't be helped. What have you found?" Cole asked, and Hannibal enlarged the DNA sequences obtained from the bodies.

"Biologically speaking, they are Homo sapiens," Hannibal revealed, "however I would not classify them as Homo sapiens sapiens."

"What does that mean?" one of the ensigns overhearing the conversation asked under his breath, which Hannibal easily picked up and moved to explain.

"I will not delve completely into human taxonomy, but it is a topic relevant to this discussion," Hannibal explained. "Modern humans, scattered across all of our colonies, belong to the Homo sapiens species, specifically the Homo sapiens sapiens subspecies. Other subspecies included Homo sapiens neanderthalis and Home sapiens idaltu, although there is still considerable debate as to whether or not those actually qualify and are not instead separate species. Regardless, from what I can see, I believe that the population of humans native to this planet would certainly qualify as subspecies of Homo sapiens. Their DNA and biological makeup matches our own almost exactly, but there are enough taxological differences to justify the classification."

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say there are two subspecies living down there," Cole noted, glancing at the image of the roughly thirty-years-old female with black wolf-like ears poking out of the top of her head.

"You would be correct," Hannibal confirmed. "Both of these subspecies are biologically compatible with each other, yet the female in question has additional canine DNA interwoven into hers, resulting in her having a dual auditory system in place."

"Those extra ears worked?" Admiral Cole asked, and Hannibal nodded.

"Her eyes also contained a higher amount of rod cells than would be considered normal. This meant that she had what would have amounted to natural night vision as well as highly sensitive hearing. We isolated the gene those ears and extra rod cells came from, but strangely, judging by the reports from the field, the expression of that gene is highly varied. There were reports of individuals with horns on their head, different noses, even the normal human ears being entirely replaced with another animal's. I do not know if all of those specimens would be considered separate subspecies in their own right, or if the gene that carried the, for lack of a better word, animal DNA is highly mutagenic."

"I can understand why the 'wolf-girl' would be considered a separate subspecies," Cole noted, "but what makes the others so different? From what I can see, they look exactly like us."

"You would be correct, however upon closer analysis I have identified several key characteristics that led to my conclusion," Hannibal continued, enlarging the muscle and bone samples. "For starters, their muscles are much denser and more tightly packed than that of a non-genetically augmented human being. Not to an overwhelming degree, such as a sangheili, but their normal civilians are about as strong as one of our marines. Judging by the muscle density, at least. Their bones are also sturdier and denser, filled with more calcium per square centimeter than our own. Their neurons are more receptive to electrical signals, and the walls of their hearts and the rest of their circulatory systems are more robust than our own."

"They're stronger than us," Cole noted, seeing exactly where Hannibal was going.

"As well as faster and more durable," Hannibal added. "There are many factors that could have possibly gone into this evolutionary development, but I feel that the most likely cause are the highly-aggressive wildlife they have to live with."

"I wouldn't call those things 'wildlife,'" Cole insisted, feeling that there was nothing alive about them at all, "but I can definitely see how they would drive evolutionary change. "

"Precisely. Their presence and extreme hostility likely resulted in only those capable of surviving confrontations with them having offspring. Compound that over time through countless generations, and eventually you'll end up with a separate subspecies."

"Like the difference between a brown bear and a grizzly bear," Cole noted with a small nod. Both were part of the same species, but a difference in environmental conditions led to the two separate populations diverging into separate subspecies. Exactly like what appeared to be going on with the planet below. "Still, how could evolution cause one to grow wolf-ears?"

"That I would not have an answer to," Hannibal admitted. "If I had to guess, whatever brought these humans onto the planet caused that particular mutation to occur."

"Hmm," Cole hummed to himself, scratching his chin in thought. Genetic engineering was certainly possible, and while the UNSC had not decided to graft animal parts onto people in favor of helping to adjust people to new planetary environments, they had the capability to do so. Someone else could have easily done it. For the life of him he couldn't understand why, but that was something he and the rest of humanity had been asking themselves quite often regarding the actions of aliens for the past decade and a half. Was probably best not to question it and instead worry on where to go next.

It was then at the comm station beeped, prompting Cole and everyone else on the bridge to shoot their attention towards it. The ensign assigned to it was already pressing the appropriate keys to bring the transmission on screen.

"Looks like they finally responded," Cole noted.

"Looks like a video," the ensign reported. "Bringing it up now."

The images Hannibal had brought up previously were quickly replaced by a single window where the video was being displayed. It was showing footage taken from an aerial vehicle as it flew across a snowy tundra, which Cole immediately recognized as belonging to Continent Beta. To his displeasure, he saw the crash site of Pelican Hamlet 559. It was completely wrecked, its titanium armor viciously shredded. Only a dissipating black mist coming from the downed spacecraft told him what could have caused the damage. Weapons and bodies were scattered all around the crash site, along with copious amounts of blood. When the aircraft landed and soldiers disembarked, Cole understood immediately what was going on.

"They recovered the crash site," Cole stated as he watched the soldiers and what appeared to be scientists gather various pieces of UNSC equipment. While he knew ONI would not be pleased with this development, and part of him wasn't either, he had to think pragmatically. Of course they would have investigated. If they hadn't, he would have wondered what was wrong with them. At the same time, Cole's attention was brought to one man among the natives in particular who stood out from the crowd. Rather than wearing armor like he would have expected, or even dedicated winter clothing, he was instead wearing a simple grey dress shirt with black pants, a few rings on his fingers, and a faint stubble along his face. Scruffy was probably the best word he could use to describe him, but Cole could not understand how he was able to withstand the cold without adequate protection. Was there something he was missing?

"What's that on his back? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a half of a sword," another ensign, also watching the video, asked as the scruffy man joined a group of natives gathered around a body of an ODST. While the other natives were being more cautious, this man instead chose to simply take off the helmet to see for himself what the ODST looked like, and just like themselves, the natives were visibly shocked that the ODST was human.

"That's one thing in common with us, at least," Cole noted as the soldiers and researchers prepared to carefully recover the body and bring it over to the nearest aircraft, of which there were several. The scruffy man, whom Cole began to assume was some kind of specialist in their ranks, walked over to a large rocky mound in the center of the crash site. He stopped to inspect something buried in the snow, unfolding the weapon on his back and revealing it to be a sword that he then planted into the snow.

"Why would they make a folding sword?" Cole asked to no one in particular, thinking that perhaps those monsters once again led them down a different path than their own. His frown then deepened as the man wiped the snow away to reveal a buried ODST. He was once again reminded of how his decision to send people down there resulted in the deaths of good men and women. Lives that didn't need to be taken.

Cole was half tempted to close his eyes and sigh as the scruffy man stood up and prepared to call out to his comrades, only for the man to stop as something also buried in the snow stirred. He turned his head to the side just as a large sabertooth tiger-like monster burst out of the snow, fully prepared to sink its massive fangs into the victim. Cole was worried for a split second, then that worry turned into astonishment as he heard several distinctive shots from an M6S pistol fire off. The body of the monster recoiled as the bullets slammed into its head, followed by the specialist decapitating it with one swipe of his sword.

"It…can't be…" Cole muttered in amazement as he and everyone else, including the native specialist, shot their attention towards the buried ODST, who was miraculously alive and pointing a raised pistol where the now evaporating monster fell. As the ODST fell unconscious, the man who found him was already yelling for help, and Cole watched as the soldiers and researchers carefully extracted the man from the snow, tried their best to stem his wounds, then carry him to the nearest aircraft for extraction.

The video fast forwarded, and now they were inside what he could only assume to be a hospital. There they saw the ODST laid on a hospital bed, his body covered in bruises and wounds that the native doctors were desperately trying to treat. A heartbeat monitor was going off to the side, showing that he was alive despite all the tubes poking out of him. More importantly, however, Cole was able to recognize the man's face, and his eyes widened.

"That's Sergeant Graves… He's alive," Cole announced, feeling a smile break out. "They found him and tried to treat him!"

Then the video fast forwarded again, and Cole had to revise his previous statement. They didn't try to treat him, they did.

"Graves, Ethan. Sergeant. 90515-94152-EG," Graves flatly stated to a visibly agitated scientist who was clearly attempting to ask him questions. Each statement resulted in the same response, and the smile on Cole's face grew along with a faint chuckle. After a few minutes of watching the same exchange over and over again, it finally skipped to a new section, where Graves, now sitting fully upright, was staring into the camera.

"Yeah, yeah. I get what you want me to do. Talk into the camera," Graves complained as a doctor brought in some food to leave on a tray next to him. Graves nodded towards the woman, then he cleared his throat and looked straight into the camera. "Admiral Cole, this is Sergeant Ethan Graves. I know that you and the rest of the Everest must have assumed I was dead, but as you can see, I survived. My injuries were extensive, and judging by the x-rays these people have given me, I suffered a few broken bones, bruised organs, some internal bleeding,… Point is, everything hurts like Hell right now."

To add emphasis, Graves flexed his arm, only to wince in pain and force himself to stop. A pair of doctors immediately rushed towards him, but Graves waved them off.

"It's been like that for the past few hours. I've suffered worse, though. I'll be back in action in a few weeks." Graves frowned and pulled up a box on his lap. He opened it, revealing the contents to be dog tags. "The rest of my squad didn't make it, and I must insist that you allow me to write the condolence letters to their families when I return."

Cole immediately nodded, knowing that Graves was unable to see him at the moment but feeling the need to do so anyway. Graves continued, saying, "These people, as I'm sure you've noticed, are completely human. A few have extra bits for some reason. One of the doctors here has a lizard tail, believe it or not. Saw him scratch his nose with it. Other than a moustached asshole, they're pretty decent. A little overbearing, but I can't complain, outside of not being able to understand a single word they say. They can't understand me either, which I guess they're hoping you and I can fix somehow. They tried to use a bunch of pictures to explain what they wanted me to do, and that was a challenge."

Graves looked to the side then back at the camera and said, "They saved my life, Admiral, and they're treating me like a patient and not a prisoner. I mean, I'm most definitely both, but they're not trying to interrogate me or anything. And don't worry, I won't be revealing anything to them if they try. I don't know when they're going to send this, but when you get it, I volunteer myself to act as an intermediary to develop a way for us to communicate. They managed to recover a working ODST helmet, which Hannibal should be able to interface with from the Everest."

Graves held up the helmet in question, then placed it back down on a nearby table. "I'll be waiting for your response. Graves, out."

The video ended, and the bridge was silent as everyone shifted their attention towards Admiral Cole. He forced himself to remain calm and stoic, then he folded his arms behind his back.

"Hannibal, relay with that helmet and get us talking with our soldier again," he ordered, turning around to walk out of the bridge.

"Yes, Admiral," Hannibal replied. "What will you be doing?"

"I believe that this announcement needs to be delivered to the ODSTs in person," Cole explained, not breaking his stride as he walked past the automatic doors that opened and shut behind him.

December 2nd, 2540 08:05 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)

Military Hospital, Continent Beta

Graves had to admit, when he heard Hannibal's voice come through on the helmet's comms he teared up slightly. He maintained his professional demeanor, however, and focused on the task at hand. Now that he was once again in contact with his superiors and the UNSC, his R&R was officially over. Cole had specifically given him standing orders to assist the natives in developing a way to communicate, while at the same time ensuring nothing pertaining to sensitive information was shared. That meant he would be light on specifics, especially regarding the locations of Earth and all her colonies. He was already going to do that, but after Cole specifically gave the order, he was going to put extra care in following it to the letter. The last thing he wanted was to violate the Cole Protocol while serving the man who made it. It would be a blemish on his record, to say the least.

He was also given specific orders to not mention the Covenant at this time. That was something Graves readily agreed with. Trying to tell these people about a group of genocidal aliens who would love nothing more than to burn them out of existence just for being human would not be the best thing to reveal during first contact. The smart thing to do was to be patient and only share that information when a proper dialogue was started. After that, he had no idea what would happen.

Graves' thoughts were broken when the door opened once again, and the white-haired civilian whom he had been 'talking' to over the past few days returned. In his hands was another plate of food, which Graves eagerly took and began eating.

"Have to say," he said after swallowing a bite of a sandwich and a drink of water, "this stuff beats MREs any day of the week."

The civilian, whom Graves had taken to calling 'the official,' didn't understand a single word he was saying, but was able to tell he was making a joke regardless. He smiled and shook his head, then said something Graves couldn't pretend to make out. For the next few minutes, the official patiently waited for the ODST to finish eating, and once he was done he placed the now empty plate on an adjacent table and sat upright to look at the man eye to eye. His counterpart nodded, then held out a piece of paper and a pen, which Graves immediately took. Then he rotated the helmet towards the official and himself, turning on the built-in camera feed to allow the Everest to watch and listen in.

Until they managed to find a way to actually talk to one another through words, using pictures was going to be the best path forward. At first, it was proving difficult. Despite their similarities as people, their languages were completely different. They had both an alphabet and writing system, but it was so markedly different than what he was used to that it was impossible to make out what was being said. Then the idea of drawing pictures came along, and while that was working, progress was slow. Too slow, in his opinion, but that was what he had to work with. There was one thing, however, that was proving to be a boon to a translation. As it turned out, not only did this planet have humans on it, it also had many of the same animals native to Earth as well.

"Dog," Graves said as the official showed a picture of a small canine, which looked remarkably like a corgi. He spelled out the word as well, which the official took and read over.

"…Dog," the official slowly repeated while pointing at the picture, and Graves nodded. He nodded back, then pointed at Graves and stated, "Human."

"Yes, human. Like you," Graves replied. It was then that the helmet flashed as a communication from the Everest came in, and the ODST immediately took the helmet and placed it back on.

"This is Graves," he declared. A moment later, he saw Hannibal's face appear on the top right corner of his HUD.

"Sergeant, I have an idea on how to facilitate communications," Hannibal reported.

"I'm all ears, Everest. Lay it on me."

"I want you to take the words you and the natives have already discussed," the Smart AI explained, "as well as the English alphabet. Then, I want you to translate those words and letters into binary."

Graves thought for a moment, then said, "What's that supposed to do?

"The natives of this planet utilize binary code as the basis of their computer software, much like we do," Hannibal explained. "By translating our language into binary, they can then translate it into their own. This is only a first step and won't be including punctuation, symbols, and so forth, but by making this rudimentary translation, we can then start a proper dialogue and I can take the rest of the translation from there."

"Alright, I can see how that can help," Graves admitted. "There's only one problem: I don't know binary."

"We will be sending you translations momentarily," Hannibal clarified. "Please standby."

"Acknowledged," Graves replied, then patiently waited as the data was sent into the helmet.

When the message finally came through, Graves took another piece of paper and began writing the English alphabet. The official, and undoubtedly the others watching from behind the one-way mirror, watched closely as Graves finished. Then, underneath each letter, he wrote as cleanly as possible the binary code translation for each letter. They had already managed to 'translate' the numerals each of them used, and he thanked his lucky stars that they used a base-ten number system like they did. That would make this much easier. At first, the official was confused, but that only lasted a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. He quickly nodded and motioned his arm towards the mirror for more pieces of paper as well as the photographs they had already translated. From the quick peek Graves got as the door opened, the other side was awash with activity, and he felt a small smile break out across his face.

Finally, they were getting somewhere.

December 13th, 69 A.G.W, 1:15 P.M (Remnant Calendar)

Atlas Academy, Kingdom of Atlas, Solitas

"They are called the UNSC, which stands for United Nations Space Command," Professor Ozpin reported to the assembled councils from every kingdom in the world, and then some. They had arrived just this morning, and Ozpin felt they had gathered enough information about their visitors to start talking about what to do next. "From what we have been able to determine, they are the military and exploratory arm of the UEG, United Earth Government."

"Earth? What is that? They're not talking about actual dirt, right?" one of Vale's councilors asked, and Ironwood shook his head.

"We believe Earth is the name of their homeworld," Ironwood explained. "When we attempted to inquire further, however, Sergeant Graves refused to divulge any specific information. All we know is that it's a planet and humans live there."

"Sergeant Graves?"

"The alien we have in custody," Ironwood clarified. "'Sergeant' is his rank while his actual name is Graves. At least, that's what we believe. For the life of me, I couldn't imagine naming a child 'Sergeant.'"

A small round of chuckles went around the room, amused at Ironwood's joke. Others, however, were not, and one of Vacuo's councilors leaned forward. "Why did this 'UNSC' come here, especially in their current state?"

"According to Graves, it was an accident," Ozpin reported. "Their ship had sustained damage and they were forced to randomly jump into something called 'slipspace,' which is how they manage to travel faster-than-light. When they arrived in our system, they detected the CCT transmissions and came to investigate. We all know what happened after that."

"If they sustained damage," the councilor shot back, "then why did they decide going somewhere random was the correct decision? Why not head straight back to this 'Earth' of theirs?"

"At the moment, we don't know," Ozpin admitted with a sigh. "We can only guess at this point."

"Frankly, we need to move from guessing to knowing as soon as possible," another councilor, this one from Mistral, argued. "The only reason I can fathom them making a random FTL jump, if I'm understanding the terminology correctly, is that they didn't want to be followed. The question is, followed by what? More importantly, will their arrival here, accidental or otherwise, bring their problems to us? We have enough problems here as is, and the last thing we need is someone else's."

"Rest assured, Councilor, that once we establish a proper dialogue with the UNSC, we will get to the bottom of what exactly transpired," Ozpin insisted.

It was obvious to him, as well as Ironwood and the others, that Sergeant Graves was not being entirely truthful about their arrival. While it was immensely frustrating, at the same time, Ozpin understood why his superiors might order him to be secretive. But Graves being secretive wasn't what had him concerned the most. Indeed, it was the secrets themselves. What were the aliens hiding from them, and why? For the sake of everyone on Remnant, they needed to know as soon as possible without jeopardizing the most important event in Remnant's history.

"Moving on," Pietro Polendina cut in, adjusting his glasses and bringing everyone's attention onto him, "their ship's captain has requested a face-to-face meeting here on Remnant."

"Splendid," Leonardo Lionheart said with a smile. "That will make things much easier. Did they say where they wanted to meet?"

"And how are we actually going to talk to them?" a councilor from Vacuo asked.

"My team and I are modifying an ADA unit to act as a translator. A prototype should be ready in a few days," Pietro explained. "As for where, they are actually allowing us to choose the venue. It appears they want to be as respectful as possible. They did, however, request that they be allowed to bring an armed escort."

"A request that I accepted," Ironwood said.

"You're willing to let an alien military land on our planet?" one of Atlas' councilor's asked, raising an eyebrow. "Forgive me, James, but I didn't think you'd be for that."

"Normally, I wouldn't," Ironwood admitted, "but given how disastrous their engagements with the Grimm were, Professor Ozpin and I felt that an exception could be made. We did insist that we bring forces of our own, however, including a few Atlesian cruisers to ensure proper security. They accepted that request as well, and all we need now is a date and location."

"Could we even stop them if we wanted to?" someone asked, and the room fell silent. It was a question they all had on their minds, but it wasn't something they wanted to think about.

"At this point in time, they are being peaceful," Ozpin pointed out. "In fact, they've been more than peaceful. They've been helpful. I believe it would be best to focus on that instead."

The councilors nodded in acceptance, some more so than others. Both Ozpin and Ironwood understood their hesitation. They felt the same way, but the desire for a peaceful dialogue outweighed their concerns. Besides, given what they knew of the UNSC's ground forces, they felt confident enough to ensure everything would go smoothly.

"Well then, I guess I can understand their concerns. So long as we take the necessary precautions, I see no harm in allowing it," a Vale councilor declared. "Within reason, of course."

"I couldn't agree more," Ironwood replied, folding his arms behind his back. "With that in mind, we should discuss where this meeting will take place. I believe Atlas would provide a prime location for it."

"Oh? Why is that?" a councilor from Vale asked.

"Atlas has taken the lead on facilitating First Contact ever since it started," Ironwood explained. "Beyond that, the Atlesian military would be more than able to provide ample security for the meeting. It makes the most logical sense for Atlas to host the delegation."

"And thereby tell the aliens who, exactly, is the face of Remnant. Your kingdom, as it would be."

Ironwood frowned, along with the Atlesian councilors, and said, "That is not what I am trying to imply. I am simply being as logical as possible about this."

"As am I. Whoever hosts this meeting will, intentionally or not, present themselves as the de facto leader of Remnant, thereby implying the other kingdoms are not as important." The Vale councilor frowned, as well as his counterparts. "Atlas has taken the lead thus far, and we are more than grateful for that. But the kingdoms are supposed to be equal to one another, and if we are to show that, it is imperative that another kingdom hosts the UNSC and not Atlas."

"In other words, Vale," a Vacuo councilor interjected.

"Yes," another Vale councilor confirmed. "By all accounts, Vale is the political and economic heart of Remnant. The current world order stemmed from it after the Great War, after all, and what better way to show the aliens that then by hosting it there?"

"Vacuo won that war too, in case you've forgotten," Vacuo's councilor shot back with a fervent pointing of a finger. "For centuries, the other kingdoms have either looked down on my people or outright exploited us. You're talking about maintaining the image of the kingdoms being equal, and by hosting it in Vacuo, we show that."

"Mistral has just as much of a claim," Mistral's councilors insisted. "We're the largest and most populous kingdom in the world. There are 760 million people living on the planet, with 300 million of them living in Mistral alone. That's nearly half the entire global population. Only Vale comes close at 250. Compared to that, Atlas only has 125 and Vacuo a measly 70 million. Menagerie's 30 million inhabitants are a non-factor here, as they're not even a kingdom. If we want to be truly representative of what the majority of Remnant's people is like, Mistral offers the best chance to do so."

The room quickly descended into petty squabbling as the assembled group bickered among themselves as to which kingdom should host the aliens. Ozpin frowned, remaining silent as Ironwood and Lionheart attempted to restore order. They all had accurate points, in Ozpin's opinion. Atlas was, militarily speaking, the strongest kingdom in the world and had taken the lead thus far, meaning it was probably the safest place to host it. At the same time, Vale was, indeed, the economic and political heart of Remnant, a position it had held since the end of the Great War 80 years prior, and its central geographic position would help to accommodate all of the delegations. Mistral did, indeed, have the largest population in the world, meaning a truly representative sample would have to include them in some way. Yet putting it in any other kingdom would incidentally feed into the unfortunate tendency to disregard Vacuo. Much like the rest of the delegation was doing to Menagerie, intentional or otherwise. It was quite the dilemma, in Ozpin's opinion.

Yet the biggest problem remained. Whoever hosted the aliens would take the forefront of any and all future interactions. The aliens would think of that kingdom first, which might lead to numerous problems for interkingdom relations. One thing was certain, though. They had to display a united front against the UNSC, show that any would-be attempt at dividing them would fail. Not that he believed the aliens would do that, but he still felt caution was warranted.

It was then that Ozpin glanced out the window and saw Amity Colosseum, floating just outside Mantle's walls. It had remained in Atlas for maintenance and repairs following the prior year's Vytal Festival, a biennial event meant to celebrate the end of the Great War and all of the contributions the four kingdoms provided to all of Remnant. Although repairs had temporarily stopped, on account of recent events, next year it was still on track to be flown to Vacuo, then two years later it would arrive in Vale, followed by Mistral. Slowly, an idea formed in his head, and he tapped his cane on the floor. Everyone stopped their squabbling and shot their heads towards the headmaster of Beacon Academy, and he cleared his throat.

"I believe that I have a solution to our current dilemma," Ozpin revealed. "A way to display a united front to the UNSC that Atlas, Mistral, Vale and Vacuo are in equal standing to one another in a way that won't imply one is superior."

He gently waved his arm towards Amity Colosseum, and everyone's attention slowly drifted towards it. At first they were confused, then their eyes widened in realization.

"Of course, Amity Colosseum," Pietro breathed out. "It's owned by all four kingdoms equally, and it can be easily defended."

"But where will we move it?" Ironwood asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't dispute the idea, but I do question where we'll place it. Simply hosting it over the ocean is not a good idea. We'd be surrounded by all sides if things go horribly wrong."

Ozpin nodded in agreement, but he already had an answer and said, "Vytal Island is a prime location in my opinion. It was where the Great War was ended, and I can't think of a better place to host our first face-to-face encounter with an alien race."

"Vytal is claimed by Vale, though," Vacuo pointed out.

"Indeed, but the actual meeting will not be taking place on Vytal," Ozpin insisted. "Instead, Vytal will be used as a staging ground to ensure the delegation is adequately protected by all parties. If need be, we could even craft a declaration that Vytal is jointly owned by all four kingdoms for the duration of the talks."

The councilors narrowed their eyes and turned back to talk among themselves about Ozpin's suggestion. He shared a look with Ironwood, Leonardo, and Pietro. After a moment, they nodded in agreement, then the two headmasters walked away to rejoin their respective councils. Ozpin did the same, and after a few minutes of fervent debate, the talks calmed and they all came to a decision.

"Professor Ozpin's proposal is sound," Ironwood declared. "I second it."

"As do I," Leonardo added. One by one, the other councils voiced their approval and gave unanimous consent. Pietro nodded happily, then walked out of the room to send a communication back to the UNSC.

December 15th, 69 A.G.W, 6:30 AM (Remnant Calendar)

Unknown Location

For the past few weeks, life had been tense around the castle. Even more so than usual. The arrival of the human aliens had thrown the largest wrench imaginable into their plans, and part of him wondered if they would be able to recover. But their mistress was adaptable, if nothing else. After getting over her shock, she had been sending them to get as much information as possible about their new arrivals and what the kingdoms were planning to do.

"Ma'am," a large stocky man with a short black beard and a dark green and black trim coat, reported, "the kingdoms are moving Amity Colosseum to Vytal Island. They plan on meeting with the aliens there within the next few days."

"Is that so?" their master replied, bringing her pale hands in front her as she sat atop her black stone throne. "Have you been able to determine what forces are being brought to bear, Hazel?"

"The bulk of the security is coming from Atlas," Hazel Rainart answered while crossing his exposed hairy arms, "including three Atlesian cruisers and three hundred soldiers with mechanized support. A dozen Huntsmen and Huntresses each from each kingdom are also taking part to ensure proper security, ma'am."

Hazel's master nodded while folding her fingers together and said, "The kingdoms are certainly taking this seriously. They would be fools not to."

"What should we do, ma'am?" Hazel asked. His master regarded him coldly through her dark eyes, and she stood up from her throne and stalked forward. Her black dress draped across the stone floor and she stopped before a window overlooking the desolate, Grimm-filled wasteland that she and her inner circle resided in. She brought her hand to her chin and stared at the descending moon, then began to speak.

"Hazel, I want you and Haki to investigate the meeting," she ordered. "The events that take place there will shape the course of the world, and we must know what that course shall be. Let me be clear: you are not to make a scene. This is not an assassination, nor is it sabotage. You two are only to spy on the meeting and report back to me, nothing more. We do not know enough about this 'UNSC' to act against them openly, not yet."

"Of course, my Glorious, Radiant, Effervescent Lady!" Haki Felt replied, running her twitching fingers across the brim of her hat. In contrast to Hazel's simple clothes and unassuming colors, which did little to distract from his distinctively massive frame, his self-described fellow minion was positively flamboyant. From her gaudy green, silver, and khaki checker-boarded tunic, to the falling stars tattooed beneath her eyes, to the eclectically decorated top hat jauntily perched atop her neon-red hair. She then asked, "What if we see an opportunity that we can get away with?"

"Then you ensure you don't get caught," she declared, turning around to look at the woman directly. "Rest assured, I fully intend to disrupt this meeting. I am already amassing a small horde to throw against them so that you may observe their response. If you do decide to act, and you get caught, you will bear the consequences yourself and leave no trail to expose your allegiance to me. Am I clear?"

As though in emphasis, the entire room seemed to darken. The candles dimmed and the sickly light faded from the glass windows, and both Hazel and Haki felt a cold dread steal their breath for a few terrifying heartbeats. Then the sensation ceased, and after recollecting their bearings, Hazel and Haki nodded.

"Yes, Lady Salem," Hazel said with a polite bow. Haki offered a more extravagant display, holding her hat to her chest with her right hand while bowing and throwing out her left arm to the side. She looked up at Salem with a slightly manic smile, and Salem coldly regarded her before turning around and ushering them away. Both agents stood up, then turned around and walked out of the castle just as Salem sat back onto her throne, watching calculatingly as her subordinates left.

"Alright, Ozpin," she said to herself under her breath, "let's see what the next move shall be."

[~][~]

Hello, everyone! Here is the latest chapter of Dust and Echoes! Special thanks to Jesse K and NaanContributor for all their help in bringing this chapter to life.

The UNSC and Remnant are now, officially, talking to each other. But, unfortunately for them, Salem herself has taken interest, as she obviously would. Things are coming to a head, and what comes next shall be revealed in the upcoming chapters.

Now, onto the Q&A:

Psihopatul: I'm happy to hear that and to see you join us! One of the things I strive to do in all of my crossovers is to do things that other creators don't necessarily do. In this case, bringing the UNSC to Remnant, but taking the First Contact in a slow, methodical, and realistic way. At the same time, also bringing RWBY characters into the Halo universe, much like I have done with my DC story, Hunters of Justice. Of course, that integration was a lot more...world-shattering than in here (and any of my readers would definitely know what I'm talking about). As for how Ironwood and the others will react, that will be revealed in due time, don't worry.

NeoConVAL: Thank you! Will do.

DomR1997: Oh trust me, we have a lot of plans in store for you guys.

Evinco: That documentation is actually something we intend to showcase within the story. Or, more specifically, through in-universe codex entries to help mark the transfer of information from one side of the crossover to another. Think of Ozpin writing his thoughts on the origins of the UNSC, the Insurrection, etc. while Doctor Halsey writes about her thoughts on Aura, Dust, and Semblances. Ruby would write small essays on various UNSC firearms while Yang does the same on various vehicles. Pietro would talk about Slipspace, Artificial Intelligence, etc. On more immediate measures, expect everyone's reactions to things going on to be of prime concern.

Shadowstorm-Vash: Oh, I definitely agree, and I intend to show that the marines and ODSTs are competent soldiers. Just not SPARTAN or Huntsmen level. And don't worry, our two favorite AI girls will meed eventually.

edboy4926: That will be shown in due time, don't worry.

SulliMike23: They will. Right now, though, the focus is on getting there.

kpmh2001: Glad you like the chapter, and thank you for the compliment.

Guest: Ozpin's not recruiting anybody, don't worry. That's the last thing on his mind. Besides, Grave's is really more of a major character for this arc, not a main character like Ozpin, Qrow, Ironwood and Cole. Plus the Master Chief, he's definitely the main UNSC character in this story. Arguably the main character alongside team RWBY. They're equals here.

ptl: I won't reveal what the Brothers are, or where Dust can all be, but rest assured those questions will be answered in due time.

BanzEye: Yep, that's Ironwood for ya. Luckily, he's not at the point where he feels like he needs to hold all of the world's weight upon his shoulders alone, which is what caused him to snap in Volume 7. Markedly different situations right now, which is helped by the fact that Ozpin is still alive.

CheesusChrist15: I am aware of what UNSC and Remnant tech can each do. One thing you can be certain of is that UNSC ballistic technology is much, much better than our own, so trying to extrapolate from that isn't the best way to go.

Vein Bloodborne: Yeah, that was fun to write.

shadyxlr: Don't worry, I intend to show reactions from both sides.

Ghostly: That answer will be revealed in due time.

Ghost of Los Angeles: Yes they will. Yes they will.

Steelrain66: They don't know about Aura just yet. They've been focusing purely on simply communicating with each other and not messing up the first contact, which surfing through their internet would cause. But they will eventually, and you imagine the UNSC would be very interested in that. Especially with what's going on right now.

daggercloak000: Don't worry. As mentioned previously, I'm not nerfing anybody. At the same time, this is a story, not an episode of Death Battle, so calcs are considered but not the overriding factor as to what goes on.

Dragon lord Syed 101: Oh trust me, I'm going to be avoiding the idiot ball as much as possible, unless it's in character.

That's it for this time. I hope you all enjoy and let us know what you think!