Author's Note:

This is a pretty rough fic I've been writing on and off for a while now, and as with most of my work I have not this slightest bloody clue where it is going, as it's not finished yet. I was kind of excited to break into the Halo fandom, I've been eyeing it for a while, looking for the best way to approach it. I'll be releasing what is written in parts, this is the first of four. Remember, if you review with constructive criticism, I can incorporate that into future updates. Reviews and feedback are very much appreciated.

Part 1

Stepping Off

The entire maglev train was empty, from the front to the back. This didn't particularly bother Elena, who had always liked silence. The best company to keep when you were a budding ONI graduate was your own thoughts. Right now her thoughts were a little frantic, and her heart beating faster than usual. The request had come through, complete with the ominous black little signature of the Station Chief, which made it all the more foreboding. It was exciting too, she thought, but right now anticipatory panic was the dominating emotion.

Did she remember all her courses? Small arms? Tailing? The finer application and concealment of bugging devices? Of course she knew them back to front, but no matter how many times she reassured herself of this calm did not come. Her first assignment, it was a red letter day, the first time she would get her feet wet in service of the Office of Naval Intelligence. The train was quite a lot less fancy than the transport at the academy, the seats were dirty and here and there little bits of plastic and paper were strewn, missed by a janitor. If it was a true military transport it would have been roughly scrubbed from top to bottom, but the UNSC had only recently constructed this base, and this was apparently the best they could find. Right now Elena was rushing away from the spaceport at a couple hundred miles an hour, headed for St. Creedy Army Reserve Center.

Mr. Creedy was apparently the first person to set foot on this planet, a dubious honor at best. Quadraxis IV rotated on a leisurely orbit of the star of the same name. If it had been an Earth-like planet it would have long ago frozen over, but in a paradoxical turn of events, the surface temperature was about 72 degrees at all times. The planet was covered in a noxious industrial fog, which would never have been tolerated in an inner colony, but whatever, this was the outer rim, and crazy shit happened out there. It was remote enough to keep away the journalists, most of them at least. From time to time you would hear about it, how the children went to school in intolerable air conditions, how crime was rampant, how at midday the sun was only a smudge behind the clouds. Even that news coverage was tapering off now, as the censors got harsher. The cities were the worst. Sunlight was blunted against this fog of smoke, and the light that did get through shone odd shades of orange and red. Respirators were the common on the street, and almost all buildings had air purifiers built standard.

Out here it was better, near the fringes. St. Creedy Army Reserve was nestled up against the one massive mountain range that burst through the crust for a few thousand miles in either direction, about one hundred miles from the largest city, Novosibirsk. Elena swore that her maglev had punched a clean hole through the smog as it left the city limits, hurtling down a lonely stretch of tracks for the looming mountains. All the excess water had long been shipped off-world after the ice melted, and entire cities had slowly sunk down to the bottom of the floodplain. There was no natural life here to speak of, and now that the water had been sequestered away there was only miles and miles of hard, cracked, mud flats, the occasional gust of sand rippling through the tiny fissures in the ground. It was a godforsaken place, no doubt about that, eerie and disconcerting.

Elena was jolted from her musings as a long fence and series of guard towers whipped past, and the train began to slow. A second fence flew by, this one constructed of permacrete, with more solid towers and little triangular mine warnings dotting the perimeter. Finally the transport ground to a halt in a large train yard, and the doors opened automatically. She patted her dress uniform off, and stepped onto the platform. Two grunts in full armor were sprawled on a bench, clearly enjoying the shade, their MA5 rifles leaning against the grey wall next to them. One of them spotted Elena and nudged the other. They grabbed their weapons and sauntered over to her, throwing up lazy salutes, which she returned.

"Ma'am, we've been expecting you. Follow me."

Elena trailed behind the soldiers as they stepped off the platform and made their way through the rail yard, which was crowded with troop trains and anti aircraft mounted battery carriages. Up ahead the main offices sat, one story and grey, sprawling over most of the complex. The barracks and vehicle depot sat over to the left and a small helipad took up the remaining space to the right. The two soldiers stopped at the front door and saluted again.

"This is as far as we go ma'am, the Station Chief is in the third wing, last door on the right."

"Thank you private, that will be all." Elena said and saluted back.

She didn't have to look as she stepped into the lobby, but she knew the marines eyes were on her. Even the rather baggy dress uniform couldn't totally hide her figure. She entered the hallway on the right marked Office of Naval Intelligence/Support Division Wing. It was remarkably quiet in here, and the only sounds besides the click of her shiny dress shoes on the linoleum was the occasional muffled ring of a telephone and mumbled words. She stopped before the last door on the right and knocked. A gruff voice spoke up from inside.

"Come in!"

Elena stepped in and closed the door behind her. She spotted the golden bird on the colonels shoulder and immediately snapped a salute.

"Second Lieutenant Elena Rosenthal reporting as ordered sir!"

The colonel smiled slightly and waved a hand in the general direction of his forehead.

"At ease. Have a seat."

He gestured to one of the plastic chairs that sat before his desk, which Elena took.

"Alright Lieutenant, straight to business I'm afraid. As you probably already know, I am Colonel Haverson, the section chief for Novosibirsk and the surrounding area. I've read your file, naturally, and I must say you have some of the most outstanding scores I've seen, and I've been running this shithole for quite a few years now."

The Colonel paused and sipped at a mug of coffee perched precariously on top of a stack of papers before continuing.

"I understand you're about as green as they come, but everyone has to start somewhere, and if we keep trying to weed out new blood, pretty soon there won't be anything left. Your assignment here on Quadraxis IV is to infiltrate a rebel cell in Novosibirsk. The objectives aren't all that clear at this stage. What we need, is actionable intelligence. How big of an outfit are they? Who do they report to? What kind of ordinance have they got their hands on? The last question is pretty damn important, for a number of reasons. Bombings and ambushes have been stepping up, not just here, but everywhere, across the globe, across the galaxy. This indicates that the insurrectionists are a lot better organized than we initially thought, which is troubling. We suspect there are moles at multiple levels in the army garrison stationed on Quadraxis."

Elena frowned. It was a serious situation, if true.

"Traitors sir?"

"Yep. Trust me, we ruled out all other alternatives first. Every month, more of our munitions find their way into rebel hands, and every time we engage them, it's on their terms, because they seem to have a sixth sense for where we'll be and when."

Haverson pushed a briefcase past cluttered stacks of paper towards Elena's side of the desk.

"Take it, but don't open it yet. You'll be bedding in the barracks with the regular infantry, we don't have any special four poster hammocks for ONI officers I'm afraid. That's where you should head next. After you get your personal items squared away, you'll meet your handler, and he'll give you the tactical briefing. Any questions?"

"No sir."

"Good, dismissed."

They saluted and Elena exited the room.

The barracks door banged shut behind her and Elena emerged into the well light building. Dozens of off-duty soldier looked up from card games, dice, pictures of family, and portable data-screens to give the new arrival a once over, before returning to their activities. Elena located an unoccupied bed and tossed her duffle next to it. She almost jumped out of her skin when a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see a very tall, thin man dressed in casual clothing standing there. He held out a hand, which she reluctantly shook.

"You must be the newbie, I'm Captain Hale."

Elena started to salute but he waved her off.

"Look, first rule here, don't salute, ever. A habit you make here is one you might do out of force of habit out there, and that would be disastrous."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just remember."

Elena nodded and then remembered the heavy black thing in her left hand.

"Oh, the colonel gave me a briefcase and-"

"Yeah, the little black box, I see it. Come with me and meet the rest of your team, you can unwrap your present there."

Hale began to walk at a brisk pace towards the door Elena had just entered. She tagged along, matching his long strides.

"I'll be working with a team?"

"Christ yes. What, did you think we were going to just let you lose on the streets of Novo without a few shoulder angels? Not likely."

The captain lead her across a small patch of ground to the vehicle depot. After inputting a code, the bulkhead rolled back to let them in. The inside of the depot was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Massive metal girders supported the roof and lighting. Barrels of fuel and countless trails of every hex wrench, spanner, and saw blade imaginable cluttered the sides. The long building was mostly empty, and tarps were thrown over the various Warthog variants, except for one, a white civilian van down at the far end, where clatters and various curses could be heard at length. Elena followed the captain as he sauntered over to the vehicle. Two other men were sitting in the vehicle, also dressed in civilians clothes, while a pair of legs stuck out from underneath the van.

"Fuck, Dirk, hand me the other wrench again, this one keeps slipping off the fucking bolt head."

Hale chuckled and gave the pair of legs a light kick.

"Hey Matahari, get out here, I want you meet our new field operative."

There was some shuffling and a dark skinned young woman wormed out from under the machinery, an oil smudge grazing her left cheek.

"Hi there. I'd shake your hand but I'm a little dirty at the moment."

"This is Matahari Belachi, our cryptographer, radio operator, and general tech guru. She keeps shit running, and she loves her job, despite what you might think."

Matahari nodded cheerfully. Hale turned and pointed to another, rather shorter man sitting behind the wheel of the drivers seat and reading a local newspaper.

"The man behind the wheel is Mike Brakkis. He's our getaway driver, and he's gotten us out of enough vehicular scrapes to earn a well deserved reputation. When the car's parked, he does odd jobs, surveillance, physical entry, blah blah blah."

Hale gestured to the back seat, where another, taller young man with sandy blond hair and freckles gave her a wave.

"See blondie in the back? That's Sam Dibbsy, and before you ask yes that is his real last name, and he likes it just fine, thank-you-very-much. Sam's our crack shot, he's a real bitch from a mile and a half away, as many an insurrectionist isn't around to tell you."

The captain turned back to her and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"For the rest of the team, this is Elena Rosenthal, our new resident cloak and dagger girl. If the academy is anything to go by, and it usually is, she's one hell of a spook."

Elena smiled and tried to look humble.

"And I, am the illustrious Captain James Hale, your boss and handler. Now as you may have guessed, things are pretty damn lax around here, and we like it that way, It helps the civilian cover. Nobody is Sergeant this or Lieutenant that, just names, alright? Except for me of course, I have to establish my leadership role over you barbarians."

The group chuckled and James continued.

"So call me Cap, or James, or whatever, just as long as you follow my orders and remember that I'm the Head Mother Fucker in Charge of Important Things, savvy?"

Elena nodded

"Absolutely."

"Great. Now for what must be your zillionth briefing today. Have a chair."

The captain pulled up a supply crate and Elena sat.

"Now, everyone on this team, including me is Special Activities Division. We're technically ONI, but really, we're a collection of sorry-ass grunts that the squids in orbit rustled up to help the real spies, namely you."

"So none of you are-"

"Nope. Surveillance and support is about as low key as we go I'm afraid, you're the one that has to do the real backstabbing. Speaking of which, why don't you see what dear old Colonel Haverson left you in that little box of yours."

Elena popped the latches and lifted the black lid. Inside, nestled in foam was an M6K subcompact pistol. A suppressor gleamed faintly next to it. James whistled.

"Wow, the only thing I ever got from Haverson was a good chewing out. He must really like you."

Elena ran her hand over the six round magazine and pursed her lips

"Yeah, I guess so..."

/End Part 1/