Chapter Twenty-One

Date Redacted
Generation Two Unconventional AI Serial Number 62-0229-B
AI Self Identification: Hilda
Programming Imprint Designator: AMELIA BRUNHILDA SCHMITZ
Transmission Origin: Redacted
Recipient(s): Redacted, Redacted
Classification: Alpha/ Eyes Only
Reference: Program and subsequent Mission Code Name Double Helix
TimestampRedacted

Confirmed catalog located in triple firewall encryption compiled and previously retained by Unauthorized Clone Generation One Unconventional AI Signe. File breached and decoded by Generation Two Unconventional AI Hilda. Index contains full genetic profiles on all official and unauthorized test subjects and point of origin as relates to referenced Program Code.
[LINK] disabled

Confirmed translight projections located in triple firewall encryption as compiled and previously retained by Unauthorized Clone Generation One Unconventional AI Signe. File breached and decoded by Generation Two Unconventional AI Hilda. Index contains destination points for unaccounted UNSC Prison Classification vessels Las Meninas, Night Watch and Guernica as relates to referenced Program Code.
[LINK] disabled

All information and file notes for Program and Mission Code referenced have been categorized and classified; transferred to Generation Three Unconventional AI Redacted.

Doctor Jay, Debra Elise: Retained at ONI location Redacted under Wildfire Protocol sub-classification 33-F-127 under direct order from Lord Terrance Hood. All methods at extraction authorized.

Biological construction L'shi: Retained at ONI sub-location Redacted with full disclosure and access to select parties. Protocol classification pending.

Related Mission Code Status: COMPLETE.

All UNSC and allied parties debriefed and returned to respective assignment.

UNSC Hell Hath No Fury
Status: Mission Ready
Location: Sol System
AI: Hilda
Intelligence Status: Pending file purge

UNSC Deoxy
Status: Salvage
Location: Redacted
AI: Signe
Intelligence Status: Terminated

Feral Flood contaminants related to Program and Mission Code referenced neutralized in accordance with Redacted.

Ambrosia II: Beta Centauri System, UEG Colonized
Official Status: Unknown- Presumed glassed
Classified Status: Redacted
[LINK] disabled

{{{Transmitting AI requests matrix PURGE of all files, associated context, and programming retained under this Program and Mission Code in accordance with Redacted for AI return to Mission Ready Status and link with Long Range Scanning Probes}}}

{{{Request CONFIRMED}}}

29 November 2563
Sol System
Earth
ONI Complex Delta
1300 Local

Jay tried to gasp for air as the consuming torment of sleep dissipated like a puff of smoke in the breeze. Nothing about her body would cooperate with her tortured attempts to suck in more oxygen save her gaping mouth; wild, searching right eye; and clouded gill which winked frantically from the left socket. The stark, blinding light of a sterile suite greeted her and pricked her vision as she blinked up at the ceiling. A cardiac monitor droned out a panicked but stabilizing melody as the hiss and fizz of a respiration monitor providing accompaniment. Jay could just make out an oblong, opaque bag dangling from an IV stand and knew the leads and lines that ran in neat coils were attached to her from various machines around the room.

Technicians scurried about paying the paralyzed subject no attention, their focuses on data pads and monitor readouts.

"One nine point three seven 'til confirmed REM; oh one point one six 'til cardiac arrest," someone said impassively.

One minute and sixteen seconds of sound sleep, Jay repeated in her head.

It had felt like an eternity, it always did.

She could feel the burn of AED probes attached to her left shoulder and right ribcage and had lost count of how many times the technicians had drugged her in an attempt to get what they wanted; changing doses, no doubt rearranging meds and playing with combinations in order to find one which would yield the desired result.

Sleep was something which was biologically unnecessary for her contaminated form, but required for forced, live-subject imprinting. Because of her own manipulation, they could not imprint her brain in accordance with protocols written and first completed successfully by Doctor Catherine Halsey. Those measures were useless against a system contaminated with the determination to consume and retain.

Debra refused to submit her mind for imprinting, it was the only thing she had left, and the Flood genome gave her the ability to quite literally lock the information down by power of will. In the struggle for control, the ONI technicians and medical personnel assigned to the program set aside for information extraction had found themselves having to employ alternative measures to coerce cooperation. The alternative was to induce sleep, sedate her, or put her in a coma. Even these were proving unsuccessful strategies. Jay had no control over her mind in such states, and that turned out to be a curse for both the immobile doctor and the imprinting and extraction team.

The level of terror Debra experienced during those times was measurable only in the minutes it took for her to go into full cardiac arrest. With the restraint of conscious control removed, images, sensations, and voices rose from the recesses of her mind to run wild. Memories, thoughts, and experiences of the thousands of human and alien subjects tortured and slaughtered so she could attain such knowledge inundated and seized control of her perception.

Drawing a breath and closing her eye against mental agony, Jay mused how desperately she wished to go the rest of her natural life never sleeping again. In her current state that was completely possible. If the technicians would stop their meddling she could exist never having to see those images or hear the ghosts of their torment and rage.

An AI materialized in life size form nearby and leaned over to look down at Jay's face. Having selected the image of a well groomed, young doctor, Oliver projected himself in an obnoxious shade of green.

Jay had heard the assisting technicians comment that he was a third generation unconventional model. The irony of an upgraded version of her own work now devoted to her care and repeated methods of interrogation and research was not lost on Debra.

"Hello," Oliver said sweetly, "Welcome back. Did we have a nice visit?"

The subject sneered wordlessly up at him, a line of drool leaking from the corner of her mouth to slide along her face and ooze into her hair.

"Don't want to talk about it, hum?" the AI chirped, cocking his head.

Jay just bared her teeth and hissed up at him.

Oliver crinkled his face and leaned back, "Pity," he sang, neon data pausing for the briefest of seconds before scrolling on at a leisurely pace, "You have been so very...useful," he whispered, straightening to walk the length of the bed to which Jay was bound.

The cardiac monitor bleated out an increased rhythm. No, Debra thought, it isn't possible.

Oliver consulted with one of the technicians, giving his words time to fester and germinate. He had full access to all of Signe's files and he could feel and remember and knew how the woman now helplessly lying on the exam bed had manipulated and caused so much misery; how desperately Signe wanted to see her suffer and die. She had certainly suffered and would continue to do so. Biopsies, exploratory tests, amputations, all scheduled for the days and month come even without the ability to put her under because of the risk cardiac failure. It would all require such delicate orchestration.

As he focused in on the current readout of interest to the technicians, Oliver mulled the terminated AI's memories over, and though revenge seeking behavior was undignified of a stable intelligence, there was really only one thing he imagined Jay should think as he methodically tortured her in the name of information gathering. Signe was going to win, and Oliver wanted Jay to know it as he waited for the final tests to be run and procedures to be completed so he could get approval to seize her brain.

Turning, the AI walked to the head of the table to look down at Jay, her blue eye wide and searching. "Make no mistake, we will play this game until I tire of it, Doctor Jay," he frowned for a moment. Then, he leaned closer and she tried to flinch against the straps that held her head in place as his face contorted and flashed for a fraction of a second to that of a snarling German shepherd, "Tell me, how does it feel to know I will kill you back?"

29 December 2563
Sol System
Earth
Outside Camp Odin
Bay Shore Condominiums
2330 Local

Maggie looked herself over in the mirror, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the way her hair refused to lay down on the right side of her head. She needed more sleep, and a haircut. The pink of her tank top showed off how desperately pale she was but Whittaker did her best to ignore that as she stepped into OD green flip-flops that roughly matched her knee length, cut-off cargo shorts. She plunked down the stairs and out of her house, double checking the door locks before turning to walk to her truck. The lot was well lit despite the hour. Headlights flashed and the closed top, four door, civilian class Warthog chirped happily at her approach. It was shiny and silver, backed into one of the reserved spots between her orange, two-seat, sixteen cylinder antique sports coup and a mud covered dune buggy on its small trailer. Whittaker had never been one for things. She loved her beach front condo and it kept her from having to put up with on-camp enlisted housing. Other than that, she had spent the last thirteen years donating substantial credits to orphanages and animal shelters, but not really spending anything on herself. That began to change over the last few months.

Whittaker had begun to realize just how much she kept inside and how that had prevented her from seeing the people she did have as her family. It wasn't perfect, in fact, it was pretty damned dysfunctional, but Zeta was her family nonetheless and every one of them loved her, in their own way. If she ever hoped to be able to express how grateful she was for that, she had to start learning to love herself.

Sanders shuffled over and opened a rear door, plopping himself uncomfortably across the seats. He was in blue plaid pajama pants and a gray hooded pullover, tufts of hair on his crown going crazy directions and bleary eyed as he flopped an arm across his face and yawned, "Wake me up when we get there."

Maggie laughed and shut the door before climbing in and starting the vehicle.

Paul didn't live in the complex, but Charlotte Winchester did. Which was convenient. Maggie knew Beth was done jerking the third-time Staff Sergeant's ass out of the fire. The Chief Warrant Officer had no reason to be worried about Vice Admiral Winchester causing a serious ruckus, especially now that Charlotte's commission was up and she was a fully civilian engineering contractor. Oh, Daddy Dearest could still make noise, but there wasn't much he could really do other than get his blood pressure up. Admiral Holley was still over Spec Ops and he tended to tune a deaf ear to personally motivated nonsense.

Beth's only concern was that Paul was so smitten with the girl he would try to marry her now that his career and balls were not in immediate jeopardy. Maggie and the team leader had never really talked much, but at a recent post-mission team barbeque Steele had voiced her concern. While the guys were off searching for driftwood for a bonfire, Whittaker and Beth had sat on the deck looking out at the ocean and that was the moment it all started to click together for Maggie.

Beth never had anything against Charlotte, it was just that Paul's involvement with her could have gotten him ejected from Spec Ops, and now that that was no longer an issue, if he married her, he would no longer meet specifications for the IRD. She would probably never admit it, but Whittaker came to realize Steele didn't want to lose Paul in the same way a mom didn't want to lose her baby boy.

"I use to wonder..." she had shaken her head against the thought, "Teddy says there isn't any need to wonder," then she had looked over at Maggie and smiled, "We already know what our kids would have been like."

It was the closest thing to a complement Maggie could imagine the other woman capable of, and Whittaker didn't have it within herself to tell Steele that Paul wasn't the only one she had to worry about losing.

Beth had laughed, "Sometimes, the second chance you get just isn't one you ever imagined in your head."

Maggie eased her SUV out into non-existent traffic and made her way several blocks north towards camp before pulling into a gated apartment complex. Teddy and Beth were waiting with their bags on the curb as she pulled up and hit the hatch release. Steele climbed in the front passenger seat wearing a brightly colored sarong and buff colored sandals. Beth had never struck Maggie as the dress type.

Teddy loaded up their bags, the bright orange and yellow Hawaiian print of his cargo shorts at odds with the red and white dive flag on his black shirt and flip-flops. He lumbered to the back and jabbed at Paul to get him to sit up and get out of the way.

At 0000 hours on the dot, Zeta was pulling up to garrison headquarters. Maggie parked in the General's vacant spot and everyone piled out. They were all officially signed out and on much needed leave for the next nine days at 0015.

Maggie dropped Teddy and Beth off at the airport in plenty of time for them to catch their 0200 redeye out of the country. They were going somewhere tropical and sunny to ring in the New Year, with romantic sunsets instead of the gloomy, humid winter storms that plagued the coastal southeast. Maggie knew Las Rattan, just off of Old Haiti, was their favorite hide-a-way. At team cook-outs she had seen snap shots all over Beth's apartment of the two of them on the white sand beach and in the shade of a thatched bungalow.

In the pictures, Maggie saw a side of them she had never really had the chance to notice, and maybe, it was her own change in perspective that caused her to see it. Teddy had come inside to fish a beer out of the fridge and paused next Whittaker as she looked over a collage of candid shots: Teddy and Beth at a floating oyster bar; on a deep sea fishing boat; the two of them looking at each other as they were both caught open mouthed in some bar with microphones in their hands and a karaoke machine in the background.

"You really love her, don't you?"

Danniskovovik had just stood there for a few moments, "Yeah," he said before tugging at his beer, "Even when I shouldn't have; even when she gave me every reason not to," his big shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, "For all the things she is and all the things she isn't, I've always loved her," and with that, the giant man of very few words had turned and walked away.

As she slowed the Warthog near unit 27 and Sanders climbed out, Whittaker thought to just let it go, but at the last minute she rolled the window down and hollered at him. Paul turned back, still sleepy faced and rubbing his eyes.

"You know, um," she began, clearing her throat as he approached.

He leaned in and folded his arms across the open window rail, propping his chin on his forearms, "Somethin' wrong, Maggie?"

She breathed out slowly and fought the butterflies in her stomach that kicked up at what she was about to broach, "You remember about a year ago," she paused and chewed at a nail, "when Charlotte got engaged to that ass-hole from Naples?"

Sanders' face fell. His eyes went wide as he stood bolt upright and jumped back from the truck. He had visibly blanched as if all the blood had drained out of his head. His words blurted out in a rush, "We said we were never going to talk about that."

"I know," Maggie held up a hand.

"Is this one of those twelve-steps?"

"Yes…no, yes, just, hear me out, okay?"

He looked at her as if she had suddenly turned into a venomous snake. They were never supposed to talk about that night…ever…with anybody…ever. Paul couldn't remember most of it, but he was weirded out about it just the same. Maggie was kind of like, his sister, his really hot sister…but, no…that was just…eww.

Feeling like he might need to throw up, he still found himself nodding, swallowing hard at what he was sure would probably put him in the emotional equivalent of the fetal position.

Not the way he wanted to spend the next nine days with Charlotte.

"We never had sex that night, Paul," Whittaker said flatly.

He blinked, "We didn't?"

"No," Maggie shook her head.

"But," Sanders protested, "the hospital report said..."

"I know what it said, Paul, because I'm the one who gave the account," she sighed, "I just wanted to shut you up," she said bitterly, "Besides, everyone knows I'm…well…" she still had a hard time not thinking of herself that way, "You falling out of bed during wild sex sounded nicer at the time than 'You wound up in the ER getting three stitches in your forehead; and had a mild concussion and a black eye because we were drunk and you pissed me off so I broke a lamp across your face'."

Paul subconsciously reached to rub the scar on his left temple, "Oh."

That was probably the only drunken encounter Maggie was actually thankful to recall with any degree of clarity precisely because of what didn't happen.

"And there was that whole potential for a battery charge…so I lied. To everyone," she took a ragged breath and hung her head, "I'm sorry, Paul. It was just easier to be what everyone already…"

"Naw, it's okay," he interrupted, "This just means we're not any weirder than we should be," he shrugged, "Shit happens and now we can go back to never talking about it again."

She looked over at him from the corner of her eye and saw his dimple-cheeked grin, "So, that's it? That's all you've got to say?"

"Yep."

Whittaker puffed out a breath, and why does that make me feel like an even bigger ass-hole?

"I'm probably going to regret this," she muttered, reaching for the tangle of keys dangling from the console. She unclipped a dainty set and chucked them sideways. Sanders caught them as they smacked his chest, "That can't make up for what I did, but your car is a four cylinder and smells like dirty socks."

"Hey…"

"And if you're going to flaunt your relationship with Vice Admiral Winchester's daughter while you're on leave, you should at least do it in something classy."

Paul chuckled, looking over at the small orange sportster tucked into its spot, "You're not all that bad stuff you think you are, Maggie," he said in a low voice. Then, he made a face like something tasted bad and slapped the window frame and muttered, "It's way too early for this heavy shit." With that he tucked the keys into his pocket and turned to walk away.

"Scratch it and I'll kill you," Maggie shouted at his back.

Paul just laughed as he keyed his way into Charlotte's condo and Whittaker threw the truck in drive and pulled back out of the lot.

31 December 2563
Sol System
Earth
Outside Camp Odin
Sangheili Allied Station
0230 Local

Command Officer 'Loram sat at the desk in his now, seldom used, Commandant's office. The room occupied a large portion of the upper floor of the command building. Neat and organize, it had become a place of last resort for necessary paperwork and associated duties of Iruu's station. Sometimes, he felt as if he were drowning in reports, forms, and memos: work which had once been the only part of his job he could honestly say he participated in.

He pecked back and forth from two data pads and a stationary terminal which canted up from the immaculate desktop. He loathed this part of his job. There were other things he wished to be doing, somewhere else he would prefer to be...but, he needed to get these forms corrected for approval and do his best not to compose and eloquently scathing request to Military Commander 'Vadum for permission to go kill the bureaucratic wretch at the other end of the transmissions.

Once a man with endless patience for the tedious electronic trail of approval and requests, Iruu was now woefully short on the subject. Some of the irritation was residual from facing the damage incurred after years of his own complacency. The previous months had left him facing the guilt of having been a leader who had allowed his men to make fools of themselves simply because he had not felt it his place to chasten those in his charge for their private conduct; he hadn't cared; he hadn't wanted to know...

Iruu snarled and slammed his fist against the desktop. He no longer believed he was sent on the mission with the humans because he was disposable. True, he was convenient but he had also been jaded and discontent and derelict in addressing the greater scope of his responsibilities. Not to mention completely oblivious. Now he was frustrated because the fix was not as easy as ignoring the issue had been. The Allied Station on Earth was intended to be a proving ground, not a...another Nustaad. But, that was exactly what he had allowed it to become.

The Ambassador's had approved of the changes manifest in the Commandant, as did 'Vadum and the Arbiter. They had all been most agreeable to the adjustments Iruu returned and immediately began requesting and helpful in seeing those requests were fulfilled. But, there was still so much paperwork involved.

'Loram growled and tapped at the terminal, sending off the revised transmission of his latest request. He attached a copy of the submit confirmation to a memorandum, edited out a few lines typed in haste and sent the whole thing to 'Vadum and the Arbiter. It was not his habit to circumvent procedure, but it was late...or, early, and he was tired.

Making changes to his subordinate chain of command was proving much more difficult than he imagined. He did not see why the Field Master and Field Marshal who had requested qualified asylum and assignment as his subcommanders would be such a difficult thing to make happen. 'Taham and 'Sroam had given their unwavering approval and Iruu had already sent his last two subcommanders away. After overhearing their grumblings over the fact that no one under his command was allowed to leave the grounds except on official business, Iruu had wanted to kill them both but had elected to recommend them for duty on a prison ship instead.

Iruu was done hearing his men talking about the bars they frequented and the humans they messed around with, threat to the alliance or not. He had practically replaced all of his cadre and found himself beating nine hells out of the rookies who tried to sneak off the station. What he once saw as an assignment of last resort; a promotion intended to make use of him in service to a political agenda, 'Loram now took with lethal seriousness.

He refused to feel sorry for himself any longer or sit back and think himself a pawn in the Arbiter's ongoing quarrel with the High Council of Sanghelios. No, 'Loram had quite deliberately interjected himself into the middle of all that via his position, much to 'Vadam's silent, but clear, approval. The civil wars on the homeworld seemed unending: bitter, miserable flare-ups over antiquated cultural and religious values and civil laws seemed to have become the status quo. While 'Vadam did his best to be a voice of reason and find a balance between the archaic demands of old and the sweeping change many embraced, Iruu simply enjoyed being a thorn in the Council's collective side. To have a condemned man egging on what they felt was lascivious discontent which could lead to unnecessary but outright civil rebellion gave credence to his paternal lineage, a name still forbidden even to be spoken. Rumor was currently circulating that the Ascetics were considering making a play for his head.

Ambassador 'Taham found this latest development to be as flattering as Iruu did. And it was during the course of orchestrating desired changes within his command structure that Iruu came to realized just how inattentive to his surroundings he had been. 'Taham and 'Sraom operated under the same shroud of protection provided by 'Vadum and the Arbiter he did. Legal condemnation and the threat of death bound them to asylum on Earth just as surely as it did Iruu. They were not fated through the actions of another, but by their own willful defiance of cultural norms. Where once Iruu wondered why such young men with an abundance of life ahead of them would wish to remain on Earth instead of going home, he realized home had nothing but hatred and the treat of death. The Ambassadors loved one another and, while Sangheili acknowledged the fact that homosexuality was a statistical likelihood; it was still frowned upon, especially for men early in their reproductive prime. The fact that they had flouted cultural norms and become bonded was enough for them to be marked by the sitting Council.

This revelation led Iruu to a deeper understanding of what the Arbiter was doing. 'Vadam had been the first to do what no Arbiter was supposed to: he lived. And he did so to watch the empire which branded him a heretic fall; something his continued leadership threatened to do to the very council he defied by not only harboring fugitives to an antiquated system of justice but by setting those men at the head of his table. 'Loram also came to understand 'Vadum's participation was out of a shared indignation that men of such ability could be cast aside because of a system of rules which sought to punish based on abstract ideals rather than objective evidence.

Which was why Iruu wanted the men who had requested assignment to be approved. They were both very capable and their asylum was qualified because they did not wish to come to Earth as civilians in order to escape the Council's wrath, but they would if they had to: not for themselves, but each for another.

Grunting irritably at his exhaustion, 'Loram shut down the terminal and collected up the data pads. He had been doing all of this on his own for over a month, a few hours was not going to make a dent in the forms and memos left and no one would die if he left them until daybreak.

He yawned as he stood, neatly pushing his chair to the desk, and again as he stepped out into the hall and heard the door slide closed and lock behind him.

The night's sky was obscured by dark, laden clouds as he walked across the parade field to the command quarters. Every now and then a breeze would kick up and Iruu could smell the salt air from the nearby ocean.

As he approached a drab gray, four-story cinder block building, it began to lightly drizzle. Iruu placed his hand on the pad near the main door and the device recognized his palm print, unlocking and rolling open with a hollow thud. Stepping into the cozy interior, Iruu took an immediate left and climbed the three flights of polished stairs to the upper floor. He made the landing and strolled down to the only door on the left. The entire west side of the floor was his apartment, and those to the east would be occupied by his subcommanders...eventually.

Iruu pressed one of his thumbs against a small panel that was affixed high on the wall next to the door and it receded into the casing. His personal quarters were as neat as his office, though decidedly more decorative of late. 'Loram walked through the tidy living space, past the kitchen, and down the hall to his personal office. He set his data pads on his desk and left them there so as to resist the urge to lay in bed and keep working.

As he stepped across the hall and into the spacious sleeping quarters Iruu smiled at the sight of Maggie sprawled partially beneath the blankets, her form highlighted by the faint blue glow of her data pad. She was asleep, her head tucked against a pillow, a hand still touching the device's surface.

The past two months had not been easy. 'Loram was not accustomed to being the one left behind to wait and wonder, and the strain of that had been painful. Still, Maggie always came home to him, staying in her own residence only when practicality indicated. They were faithful to one another and the human woman had become as much a fixture on his bed as his bedsheets, as a present in his life as his assigned station. He had learned to let it be enough to know she loved him, even if she didn't know how to say it.

Iruu slid the data pad carefully from her beneath her hand and lifted it to see a picture of L'shi. The human-Sangheili girl smiled back at him covered in mud, perched inside Maggie's dune buggy. What the human intelligence community intended to do with the child 'Loram could not rightly know, but the officer assigned to her care had gone above and beyond to see to it Maggie saw her as often as was permitted. And, Maggie seemed content in the knowledge Hursch and his wife were raising the child as and with their own, albeit on a secure installation.

Maggie's concern for L'shi had once baffled Iruu, but it came to be a quality which endeared him to her even more. That she was so openly capable of acceptance unconditional had changed him and he understood how even a man as vicious as Legion Master 'Berovai could be encouraged to change under the weight of unexpected kindness.

There was no immediate worry Daniel's world would be disrupted. The UNSC had readily agreed to let the planet be, but Iruu was certain that was owed primarily to 'Vadam's powers of persuasion. Either way, it was a concern for another day and another person.

Iruu powered the data pad off and set it aside before stepping to the adjoining walk-in closet and stripping of his armor. Maggie had not moved when he walked back into the room and he found her gloriously naked beneath the covers as he snuggled in next to her. She scooted close and draped an arm across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. 'Loram smiled to himself.

"I learned something today," she said with a yawn.

Iruu hummed, looking down to run his fingers through her hair. She was always excited to recount what she had learned about his culture and how to pronounce words from Ensign Hursch. It had become their custom to discuss the finer nuances and talk about it for hours.

He kissed her forehead, "It can wait until morning," he assured her softly.

Maggie shook her head and pushed herself up, rubbing at her eyes then resting her cheek against his. She kissed the side of his face and whispered three words in perfect Sangheili; three words he never imagined she would understand or that he would ever hear her say in any language,"I am yours."

Epilog

2564, January 1
Generation Three Unconventional AI Serial Number 63-1023-C
AI Self Identification: Oliver
Programming Imprint Designator: LINBURG SIGNE TOLLOVINSKI
Transmission Origin: ONI Complex Delta, Earth
Recipient(s): Lord Admiral Hood, Terrance; Admiral Osmund, Serin
Classification: Alpha Level/ Eyes Only
Reference: Jay, Debra Elise
19:00:00 Zulu

Application of Altered Genetic Retardation Protocols ineffective.

Subject unresponsive to all hitherto applied methods of information extraction.

Methods exhausted.

All retrievable data extrapolated from physical subject.

Calculations indicate likelihood of successful information retrieval by continued application of all utilized methods as 00.000000096%. Variance -00.000000019%.

Calculations indicate likelihood of successful information retrieval diminish by a factor of 00.0057% every 24 hour cycle.

{{{Transmitting AI requests subject termination and immediate Cerebrum Imprinting and manual information download}}}

{{{Request CONFIRMED}}}

3 January 2564
Sol System
Earth
Outside Camp Odin
Oceanside Apartments
1030 Local

A chime sounded and the familiar musical note was followed by a series of tones announcing Bleu's presence. The AI materialized atop a data pad perched on the edge of a countertop. Bleu sighed, folding his arms as he glowered at a fogged over glass shower door spilling lustful moans and steamy plumes.

"Hate to intrude," he groused.

A period of silence was followed by Gunnery Sergeant Danniskovivik's gravley voice, "You son of a bitch."

Chief Warrant Officer Steele's laughing face emerged as she slid the door back just enough to turn her head and see the cobalt AI patting his digital boot, "Ma'am," he said just before Teddy's face peeked from the opening somewhere in the region of Beth's hip.

The old ODST gave Bleu an evil glare, "We're kinda' on leave and I'm in the middle of something here," Danniskovovik hissed.

The AI humphed and Beth cackled.

"Leave's been cancelled," Bleu barked.

The senior members of Zeta looked at each other for a moment then turned back and in unison, "Why?"

"Oh, you know they don't tell me much," Bleu said with a sly grin, "But, word is, some top level ONI secret sniffing equipment plugged into the mainframe of a outer colonial information banking station on the known boarder looking for some leads. The sniffers poked around a few files, got some close hits on a handful genetic markers, including one that matches David Parangosky's DNA."

"David James Parangosky, as in..." Steele began.

"As in, she'll probably come back from the great beyond and beat him to death with her cane; Admiral Margaret Orlinda Parangosky's great-grand-nephew; yep, that's be the one," Bleu said with a nod.

"What's that got to do with leave being cancelled?"

"How recent is the..." Beth began.

The AI held his hands up then shifted and winked, "I just know it's been assigned to the AI whose fragment matched the sequence and she requested your team specifically. Command agreed, and she want's your asses recalled pronto, and I ain't never going to say no to a fine lady like Hilda."

Teddy looked up at Beth and she gazed down at him, bobbing her eyebrows and running her tongue suggestively along her plump bottom lip. Bleu sighed heavily and shook his head as Steele's laughter filled the room and Teddy reached to close the shower door.

"Five minutes, Bleu."

End Note: A huge thank you to those who have been with me from the start on this. Ny'Kle, KATT9033, Lyndakey1, and LSP Reviewer, you guys have really kept me encouraged. Though a deeply personal issue caused me to take the story down and lose all of your beautiful reviews I am grateful to have had your support these last six months. To Nelani (I hope I spelled that right), Stuff, the anonymous Guest, and all the other people which I know I am forgetting off the top of my head, thank you. And finally, a special thanks to Barbarette and KATT9033, your concern was touching.

I wish to acknowledge WarlordFil for inspiring the 'Taham/'Sraom paring that was mentioned in this chapter. Though our personal takes on unknown Halo canon don't really converge, her writing inspired this piece of fanfiction.