"When things go wrong, you'll find they usually go on getting worse for some time; but when things once start going right they often go on getting better and better." -C.S. Lewis

"anything that can go wrong will go wrong," -Murphy

Location: UNSC Army cemetery space platform, currently orbiting glassed colony, Reach, 11:00 standard military time, January 3rd, 2558

LT. Brandon used to love to come to Reach during the war, the great rolling hills and beautiful sky, canyons so deep it was as though they would never end, it almost made you forget that humanity was in a state of total war.

But once Reach was glassed, coming back became almost as gut wrenching for him as when he last deployed to here.

Now as he walked through the orbiting UEG cemetery the battle was brought back to him in all its horrible detail.

The cemetery was built to look like Reach's surface before the glassing.

Monuments and tombstones dotted the surface of the memorial, depictions of soldiers encircled by the Covenant and fighting heroically to the end, Of men leading warthog charges and raising flags on covenant positions.

And then there was Noble team, their monument was built bigger and more detailed than any of the others.

He began to wonder why they deserved anymore horrible detail than any of the other monuments to brave men and women who had fought the same game of inches they had and lost just the same.

The life like recreation of Reach's sky and surface only reminded him of how the real planet would never look this way again, not after the covenant glassed it that is.

As soon as he entered the artificial grass that composed the cemetery grounds he knew exactly where he was going, a small grave marked, "here lies Staff Sergeant Michael O'Conner, killed in action during operation: UPPERCUT, August 15th, 2552."

Brandon knelt down and touched the grave stone. Michael had been, still was, his best friend. He Had watched him die.

"Why did I have to be the one to survive?" Brandon half whispered to himself, "you were the best soldier and the best friend I ever had."

As he continued to think over the battle and the loss of his friend, all he could think of was the Covenant, their unprovoked aggression, and how no amount of suffering on their part could ever atone for the loss of his friend.

"I'll see you in hell, as if it isn't crowded enough after this damned war," he said to his fallen comrade. He stood up, medals on his dress uniform clanking, faced about, stepped forward, and tripped and fell on his face.

"Damn!" He said out loud, as if yelling at the empty cemetery.

Lieutenant Brandon had never been very good at foot placement, almost everyone who knew him believed he was the clumsiest man they had ever met, except those who had seen him in combat. It was his hallmark, the only time he wasn't clumsy was when his life was in danger. He looked to see the cause of his blunder, which turned out to be an untied shoe lace.

"Anything that can go wrong..." He muttered.

As he knelt down to tie his shoe he heard two sets of foot steps approaching him. He continued to look down at his shoe and hope against hope that it wasn't Marines coming over to jeer at him.

"Lieutenant David Brandon I presume?" The approaching female voice said.

"Please let me at least leave here with my dignity," he said, half to those approaching, half to himself.

"I think you're already well past that point Lieutenant," she said, "allow me to introduce myself, I am Rear Admiral Serin Osman, commander in chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence."

Brandon's heart skipped a beat, he jumped to his feet as fast as he could, stood with the best posture he could manage, saluted and yelled, "Lieutenant David Brandon awaiting orders sir!"

His eyes finally met her's and the unimpressed look on her face told him exactly how little she had appreciated his reaction.

"At ease Lieutenant," she said, "no need to give your self a heart attack." "Yes sir, sorry sir" David responded immediately, and with more than a little embarrassment. he surveyed the area quickly.

To the left of the Admiral was a lone female Spartan wearing Mjolnir EOD armor, right hand on a pistol and staring straight at him through a matte black face plate with an all consuming look akin to that of a black hole. Clad in bright red and foliage green she looked rather intimidating, like a god in shining armor or a demon without a face, he couldn't decide.

Helluva body guard, Brandon thought.

Brandon, along with most of the rest of UNSC ground forces did not like Spartans. To him they had always taken to much glory for having done to little, especially when compared to the thousands of soldiers who had died here on reach. He decided to reserve his judgement of this Spartan until he was sure she wasn't here as Osman's personal hit woman.

The admiral's face was serious, but not stone cold like other ONI officers he had met. Her jet black hair was tied behind her head and she wore a UNSC Navy officer's combat uniform devoid of any awards other than her name tape, rank, and an ONI unit crest.

By the look of the both of them they meant business, so he decided to get right to the point.

"With respect sir, how do you know who I am? It's not as if I'm on the radar of anyone these days."

The moment the question left his mouth he knew it was a dumb one. ONI knows everything about everyone, right?

"You give yourself to little credit Lieutenant, you were on reach and earth during the war were you not? I just came to shake your hand," she stated matter-of-factly.

She extend her hand and Brandon shook it, not buying a word of it. He knew her type, when an ONI spook came and talk to you in person, especially without warning, they wanted something.

"And because of your numerous exploits, I would like to offer you a job," she said with a slight grin on her face.

Here we go he thought.

"Lieutenant Brandon, you know military technology inside and out. You scored top of your unit in technological aptitude, they almost let you in on some of the first ONI REAP-X projects, but you refused and joined the airborne. Why was that?"

"I guess you could say blind patriotism sir."

Osman smirked, "well then I guess you'll be happy to know it looks as though REAP-X needs you for a project once again."

Brandon still wasn't buying anything she was saying, "Alright, what could they possibly want with me now?"

"Well, officially nothing," she said, her face dead serious, "but unofficially it's a different story, all I can tell you is that it involves advanced alien technology that REAP-X is working with in order to improve UNSC heavy weapons and you would be an attaché to a field team aboard the prowler UNSC Murphy's Law on a mission to recover this technology and assist REAP-X by providing a bit of technical advise combine with the perspective of an experienced soldier. Spartan Alison 065 here will be your escort, you'll be in good hands lieutenant. I can't tell you anymore until you accept the job, other than this could save a lot of lives."

David mulled this over. He knew no ONI mission was ever a minor one, they always involved some unforeseen complication not expressed in the original agreement. But if this mission gave him any chance to keep what happened to his best friend from happening to someone else, it was worth it.

"And if I refuse?" He stated with all of the guts he could muster, knowing that anything he opted to say in the next ten minutes could have him transferred to a reconstruction unit on earth for the rest of his career.

"ONI isn't big on positive reinforcement Lieutenant," she stated with a grin, "take all the time you need, and feel free to get acquainted with Spartan 065 while your at it, I'll be waiting aboard the Murphy's Law. I expect your arrivals shortly."

She turned about and walked towards the station's docking bay, as if daring Brandon not to accept her offer.

Lieutenant Brandon decided he probably would be best served to comply. He walked up to the Spartan, who still had a hand on her pistol.

"So, don't suppose you know any more about this than I do?"

Location: modified pelican drop ship bogof, en-route to prowler class vessel UNSC Murphy's Law in geosynchronous orbit above planet reach, 11:15 standard military time, January 3rd, 2558

Serin strapped into her seat in the pelican's troop bay as Devereaux was completing her preflight checklist.

While waiting for her to fire up the engines she went deep into thought. She began to think of lieutenant brandon and what she was about to string him along on. Everybody she had brought on recent missions with her hadn't left the same as they came, for better or for worse.

She had lead Spartan Naomi to believe her father was dead, only to go have her receive a package from him from the grave, she had uprooted the lives of Vaz and Mal right in the middle of a period of mourning for them over all the friends they had lost just to thrust them into hidden war that made them question the validity of what they had died for in the first place.

She became so pensive over this she didn't realize that the pelican had fired up and left the hangar bay, and only snapped out of it when Devereaux addressed her over the intercom.

"Approaching the Murphy's law, stand by" the ODST said.

She decided to shake off such negative thoughts and focus on the future, and promise herself the lieutenant's experience under her command should not, no, would not be so traumatic.

As the dropship descended into the hanger Serin exited her seat, thanked Devereaux and exited the drop ship.

As she strolled across a hanger bay littered with piles of vehicles and weapons that the ships huragok, requires adjustment, was in the process of modifying, she spotted Mal and Vaz, two marines she had picked up for her last mission to Venezia, now she had asked them to rejoin her crew as they traveled to their next mission. As soon as she asked if the would go, without question they followed.

She hadn't even told them where they were going. But now as she approached the two marines she felt that they may be less upset about that and more upset about who she was bringing aboard with her, and decided to warn them before he boarded.

"Good morning marines" she addressed them as they sat at a makeshift table cleaning weapons.

Both stood and gave her quick and snappy salutes. Osman returned the salute and they both sat back down.

"Hello admiral, have a nice trip?" Asked Mal, before immediately returning to his disassembled DMR.

Her words hadn't elicited quite the reaction they had from lieutenant Brandon, but these men knew her well, and she knew that as much respect and fear for her as Brandon had, they had more.

"Well gentleman, it appears as though we will soon be having two new members added to our crew in the near future."

"Yes, and who do you suppose they will be?" Vaz said sounding rather indifferent, but then again, his Russian accent always made him sound that way.

"The first member will be a spartan two, Allison 010. She will be accompanying us for the duration of the mission" she said, expecting Vaz's immediate response.

"so I guess that means no Naomi then?" Vaz said disappointedly.

"Unfortunately no, she has been redeployed to other conflicts but will be rejoining us in the future" Osman said, now waiting for Mal's sarcasm to come out.

"You sure you can live without your girlfriend for a month vas, or will I see you on waypoint with her for hours each day now?" Mal said sarcastically and lightly punched his friend in the shoulder.

Vaz didn't take it so lightly. "maybe" he said somberly, and with that, Mal backed off.

"Oh you haven't heard the half of it, the other crewman joining us is UNSC Army Lieutenant David Brandon, he commanded the 52nd Airborne during the battle of Reach. He will be our technical expert on this mission and his roll will be better covered in the coming briefing."

Both the marines burst out laughing.

"you've got to be joking Admiral, you're letting Army personnel on to this ship? Really?"

Mal was barely able to manage over his own laughing.

"Hope he doesn't get sea sick, it's bad enough it'll take me a month to teach him the bow from the stern" Vaz said, half serious and half sarcastically.

"I understand your concern lieutenant is not up to the task" Osman said, in such a serious manner it prompted Mal and Vaz to stop laughing, "but I only pick the best and although his Army heritage made even me initially biased, I can assure you the Lieutenant is perfectly capable and his combat record is top of the line."

"Don't think that means we're going easy on him, he's prime material for one liner jokes" Mal said with a chuckle.

"As much as that is true I would advise you go easier on him than usual, it isn't for no reason we're picking him up from a cemetery, he's lost a lot of friends in the past ten years, and I'd advise we don't lash out at him in the middle of mourning."

It was at that point Mal though back to the friends he lost in the battle of earth, and although maybe in not such a light hearted fashion, and without so much alcohol, Brandon was mourning same as he did. He'd go easy on him, comparatively.

"Yes sir!" They replied in unison, and with that, Osman set out to prepare for the new crew member's arrival.

Location: docking bay, UNSC Army cemetery orbiting planet reach, 11:23 hours standard military time, January 3, 2559

Brandon found it incredibly awkward trying to get acquainted with Alison. After just a couple of minutes of knowing her, he could easily confirm any roomers of Spartans not being big talkers.

"So, what is your favorite color?" Brandon asked in the most awkward way possible, having completely exhausted every other question he could think of.

"Red, like my armor," she replied tersely.

He just stood there, wondering why he ever thought that would start a conversation.

"Look Allison, or Spartan 065, we are about to go on a deployment with ONI, I'm sorry but I don't know anything about this mission and I just want to get to know who you are so I can at least know who's watching my back before I leave," he said trying not to sound annoyed.

He knew who was watching his back, a Spartan. The saviors who never seem to save anyone.

"And please take off your helmet, it gives me the creeps to be talking to a face shield."

Here he was, on the hallowed ground where his brothers had died, and she couldn't even give him the decency of a face to face conversation.

She complied and after a few clicks on her wrist control interface, she popped the seal on her helmet and removed it to reveal an incredibly young looking woman, her gorgeous black hair fell from her helmet and hung around her shoulders. Her pale skin only making her deep, icy, blue eyes show even more brightly by comparison. She was beautiful, and Brandon instantly regretted calling her a face shield.

"Well lieutenant, I honestly am unsure of what to tell you. I know as much as you do."

Her face was blank and completely unreadable. The only thing he could really tell about her was that she looked very, very uncomfortable.

She slid her helmet back over her head and the previously unreadable soldier became even more blank and machine like.

He could tell she just wanted to be left alone. He obliged and walked off to the docking bay.

REAP-X: reverse engineering and prototyping xenotechnology. ONI's engineering division