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Halo: Shadows of Hope

Chapter 1: The Calm before the Storm

Silence.

That was its state of existence. Silence. Silence had hung over it like a shroud, protecting it against the currents of time, from the madness of infinitude. Not that it was vulnerable to the weakness of emotion, but even so, that did not exclude it from the other weaknesses of life. Like its makers, fighting against the tides of fate crying out against the darkness. Even if they had succeeded, what then? Death would come slow and final regardless of what they did. Such was the pain of existence.

Ten times ten thousand years it had stood there, buried beneath the sands of time, and, gods willing, would remain there a thousand times a thousand more. Right up to the end of eternity, unto the extinction of flesh and spirit, where the pallid flames of life and stars no longer defied eternity. Such was ideal circumstances for its creators. Such things were best left forgotten, never to be reclaimed.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans…

Chi Mu System, Mobile Research Station Aeros

Geo-stationary orbit around planet Hope

It had been one of the worst mornings of Dr. Mina Harwood's life and if someone had told her that there was a good chance that it could have been her last, she would have either laughed at said individual, told them to piss off or let slip that they were right and deal with the consequences. Not that the third option was much different from the other two, but the process of dealing with a leak of classified info was something that she wasn't particularly keen on dealing with.

It would almost be fitting in a way, thought the scientist grimly, staring out into the void of space through one of the station's windows while sipping coffee that tasted like…well, something unpleasant. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes, too tired to think of a simile.

The worst week of my life, with the worst days being at the beginning and end of it.

Although the back of Harwood's mind reminded her that she was being over-melodramatic, that the same thought process had occurred regularly over the last three years, the scientist couldn't have cared less. The incident last week still gave her nightmares and perhaps due to what had occurred, Santa Claus had been stingy. Christmas was dreary enough at the best of times but all Harwood had received on the day of merrymaking was lab notes and what she supposed was wine, both of which contributing to a hangover that still seemed to be with her. It at least showed physically, wisps of golden hair clinging to her forehead, bloodshot hazel eyes and regular comments of "Jesus ma'am, you look like shit," not giving her a good impression.

Or maybe it's just because today is the day, Harwood thought, taking another sip of the coffee and regretting it, looking around for a waste chute. The day where I put my other foot in the grave and pull one of humanity's out of it, or simply walk away from my grave while leaving mankind to rot in his. Finding a chute and dumping the plastic cup and its brown liquid down with a vengeance, Harwood checked her watch. 0602 hours. Clarke was late.

"That's a first," she murmured, once again returning to looking out the window. "Times change I guess."

There was bitter irony in those words. Time…the cruelest master that life could have.

Nine years had passed since times changed for the worst. Mankind had always looked up to the heavens, ever since its ancestors had crawled out of Earth's oceans and looked up at the night sky with awe and wonder. It had been a desire to explore that had led Homo sapiens to spread across their homeworld's surface just as much as necessity. It was once again the desire to explore that had led Terra's sons and daughters to rediscover each other. Such a trait had kept with them even after the world had been mapped and studied, turning to the stars with the same feeling that had first been felt ever since the land was colonized. January 1st, 2362 had been the day where this desire had become manifest, the Odyssey being launched to explore the heavens just as much as its function was to pave the way for man's soon-to-be galactic empire.

Nothing would stop them. The galaxy was a void, the chunks of solar matter promptly terraformed to suit the needs of Earth's children. It was a disappointment really, that the galaxy was so empty. No sapient creatures to spread the fruit's of civilization, nothing to shake the hope, the yearning that humans were not alone in the universe. Nothing to help SETI's funding. Humanity was free to shape the galaxy in his own image, free of interference. Woot.

Of course, that had been the notion only up to 2525, where humanity's hopes and dreams had become manifest in first contact with a sentient species at the Outer Colony of Harvest. Problem was, first contact had consisted of this species vaporizing every inhabited area of Harvest, every uninhabited area of Harvest, vaporizing the majority of an expeditionary fleet to see why all contact with the world had been lost and, to top it off, declaring that it intended on doing the same to the rest of man. Hell of a way to make a first impression.

Harwood smiled bitterly, remembering the first time that the incident was finally reported in the media. She'd been sixteen at the time, her stomach churning in excitement when it had been announced that first contact with an alien species. With images of what was left of Harvest and the aliens' transmission aired, basically stating that humanity was an affront to their gods and therefore had to be eradicated, her stomach had remained churning, but for the wrong reasons. It took two times to flush the toilet after that, fear having manifested in a physical way. And a smelly one too.

"Ma'am?"

Harwood spun around, her reflections interrupted. She gave a small smile, looking at her watch again.

"Seven minutes late Clarke. Care to explain why?"

The reaction was not unexpected, Alex Clarke looking more nervous than he usually did, his untidy red hair seemingly filled with static electricity, looking every bit the "mad scientist." In three years of working with the man, Harwood had never fully understood why he was so jittery, why he constantly looked like he was terrified of everything, anything and whatever else had an 'ing suffix. She'd eventually asked why, the response jokingly being that he was uneasy as to the prospect of having a woman as his superior. The mock scowl that Harwood had sent his way had silenced him and somehow made him even more jittery.

Harwood had resolved not to ask again.

"Sorry ma'am," Clarke murmured, Harwood suspecting that if it wasn't for his small amount of self control he'd be crossing his heart by now. "The false alarm…I…"

"Overslept?" Harwood asked indignantly, putting her hands on her hips like some bitchy housewife. Clarke gave a small nod, what sounded like a whimper escaping.

Harwood sighed. Even if she had been angry at Clarke, she could have hardly blamed him for his tardiness. Sleep hadn't come easily to them in ages and being woken up at four in the morning, alarms blaring, hadn't done them any favors.

In the aftermath of what had been a false alarm, Harwood found out its source. A group of objects, all within a few kilometers of each other in what could have easily been some kind of formation had been detected by the station. Given what had occurred at Harvest, Harwood found the jumpiness understandable. The aliens, or the Covenant as they apparently called themselves, had utilized ships far superior to what the UNSC employed and the notion of a fleet of the angels of death hadn't been particularly enticing. Vice Admiral Cole had finally retaken the system in 2531 at the cost of two thirds of his battle group despite a 3:1 advantage. Harwood was no military strategist, but with three ships protecting the planet, the odds of survival could be summed up in one word-"zilch."

But it was a false alarm, Harwood reassured herself, going over the facts. The objects hadn't emerged from slipspace for starters. And besides, if they were Covenant, the genocidal bastards would have probably headed straight for them. Shaken but relieved, Harwood had spent the last two hours stargazing. Clarke however, had obviously gone back to sleep.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," said Harwood eventually. "Let's go. We're running late." With that, she started walking down the hallway, Clarke murmuring something incomprehensible before following. Smiling, Harwood wondered, not for the first time, whether Clarke considered himself and his superior to be akin to Macbeth and his wife respectively, the latter forcing the former to do things against his nature. Still, even if he did, Harwood knew, or at least told herself, that the analogy was incorrect. She wasn't a sociopath, she had yet to be de-sexed by evil spirits and certainly wasn't doing the things the powers that be ordered them to because she enjoyed it.

2531…it had been a turning point for her too, just as much as it had been for Cole, discovering that numerous Outer Colonies had suffered the same fate as Harvest and had thus turned his fleet around to try and save them all. 2531 had been the year that she had graduated from uni with a degree in biotechnology, Office of Naval Intelligence representatives literally waiting for her at the door, figuratively saying that "your life is over. You work for us now."

Project: Reaper was that work. Hope was the location. A project with perhaps the most unoriginal title in history and the most inappropriately named planet in human space. A match made in Heaven.

Glancing down at the planet through another window, Harwood tried, but failed, to imagine a planet placed in a situation of even greater irony and paradox. She wasn't exactly sure how Hope was classified, the planet either being the innermost of the Outer Colonies or outermost of the Inner Colonies and had given up inquiring into databases, the answer always differing. Its name was just as strange, the emotion that it was named after having yet to manifest as far as she could tell. It had an ideal atmosphere akin to Earth, but that was where the similarities ended. Unproductive blackened soil, grey clouds covering the entire planet…

It was the clouds that were the main antagonists to the planet's namesake. Regular lightning storms that fried unprotected electrical equipment, the rarer but much deadlier plasma storms being another hazard. It didn't rain down there, it poured, the clouds constantly loaded with water despite the lack of any significant bodies of water. Roughly the size of Mercury but with a rotation similar to that of Earth, only one settlement was located on the planet, namely in its equatorial region. The only place where sufficient sunlight penetrated the thick clouds for agriculture to be carried out.

Not that agriculture was carried out nowadays. In addition to its isolation, Hope had been chosen as a base for the project and other weapon programs due to the minerals it contained. Mineral wealth was Hope's only claim to fame, an entire quarry existing seven miles north of the planet's sole settlement. Possessing everything from iron to high energy lithium-triteride, a mass driver on the surface had been lined up with the Aeros, providing ample and easy to deliver supplies for their work…the devil's work.

It's almost fitting really, Harwood thought, approaching Lab 66, reflecting that with an extra six added it would be as accurate a representation of immorality as possible. It was equally fitting that two marines stood either side to the door to hell, acting as silent sentinels. Well, at least silent for most the time, Harwood often hearing lines akin to "ONI arseheads." Harwood was always tempted to make a comment about the fact that marines would know all about people with heads in their arses but always managed to hold back. The gung-ho simpletons had been here for three years and would probably size upon any excuse to 'rock and roll' as they called it.

Twats.

"You took your time," one of the two soldiers grunted, leaning back against the wall like the cocky prick he was. "Had a sleep in or something?"

"No, simply wanted to put off having to come down here," Harwood murmured, taking out a keycard. Slotting it into the scanner by the door, she proceeded to undergo the usual retinal, fingerprint and voice identification procedures and a code that changed daily-12/29/34 in this case.

"Yeah, why's that?" the other one asked, his sideways, almost guilty glances at Harwood indicating that it wasn't the only thing on his mind.

"Because I have to deal with idiots that emerged from the shallow end of the gene pool," Harwood murmured, not knowing nor caring whether the guards overheard. With a final click her voice pattern was accepted, the door hissing open, a weapons rack opening up in the wall to the side.

"Usual procedure," Harwood murmured, walking in followed by Clarke, the latter giving shifty glances at the two soldiers outside. With another hiss, the door closed, sealing hell off from purgatory.

"How do you put up with them?" asked Clarke, watching as his superior began typing a combination on a keypad.

"Pardon?" Harwood asked, finishing the final stages of the code, two sections of wall sliding up in response. One displayed elegant armor, reminiscent of Mark IV MJOLNIR armor, but far more elegant, more sophisticated. Shoulder plates and a headpiece reminiscent to that of a samurai, an ornate chestplate and a trio of spikes on the side of the head, it was as much a piece of art as it was of armor.

So unlike its future wearer…

"I asked how you put up with them," Clarke repeated, looking around the room with nervous eyes, the lab still giving the creeps after three years of working in it. "The marines outside."

"A necessary evil, and therefore bearable" Harwood grunted, typing on a terminal that would monitor energy readings. "You know that as well as I do."

Clarke made a noise similar to a mouse being trod on, a reaction that Harwood could understand. Subject SR-005 had been…problematic, to say the least.

And who's to say that SK-018 will be any different? Harwood wondered, ignoring the whir of an operating table descending and robotic arms grasping the armor, separating it into its various components. Who's to say that we won't have a repeat of last week?

Turning towards the neutral buoyancy tank that held the subject, nothing more than a disfigured skeletal structure as far as she could tell, Harwood wondered about the possibilities, about what should happen if the results were less than desired. Would ONI Section III close shop, cutting its losses and relocating UNSC forces on Hope elsewhere? Would it provide more subjects? Or would it do something else, something that Harwood guessed would be based around "dealing with incompetence"?

Not wanting to consider the possibilities, the scientist stepped forward, grasping hold of one of the two keys required to drain the tank, Clarke grasping hold of the second one.

"We don't have to do this you know."

Harwood inhaled deeply and slowly turned to face her counterpart. "Don't we?" she whispered.

"Of course not," said Clarke simply, displaying more resolve than Harwood would have thought possible. "We're above a backwater world in the wake of a galactic war, with mankind fighting tooth and nail for his survival. Do you really think ONI will care if-…"

"Like you said, we're in this for our survival," Harwood interrupted, her hazel eyes blazing with conviction that both of them knew was false. "And to survive, sometimes the soul must be sacrificed."

"…and that's an acceptable price?"

Harwood didn't answer, instead slowly turning back to gaze upward at the tank. One way or another a life would end today, a life that had already been ruined years ago. Subject SK-015 was a monument to humanity's sins…and God willing, was possibly going to represent many more. Reminding herself that she still retained a moral code, that this was not something she relished, Harwood slowly turned back to Clarke.

"Drain it."

Chi Mu System, Mine Route 01,

Planet Hope

"Hey Ardo?"

"Yeah?"

"Why was this planet called Hope again?"

Driving a mineral harvester along a track that seemed to want to plunge the vehicle down into the valley below, nineteen year old Ardo Turner toyed with the idea of doing the track's work for it. Not that he suffered from vertigo or had particularly suicidal tendencies, but even so, the chance to escape from his sister's idiotic questions smelt of paradise.

Or not," he thought sullenly, running a hand across his short black hair. Tara would probably follow suit and meet me in the afterlife, wanting to-…

"Ardo?"

Sighing, the harvester's driver turned to face his sister, the dark haired, dark eyed girl leaning back against the passenger's seat like some kind of junkie, the type of person who fitted into a setting, but for the wrong reasons. Eighteen years old, she may as well have been six, her physical maturation having progressed without that of the psychological kind. Right now though, he could trace her question to a single, simple aspect. Boredom.

"Jesus Tara, don't you ever listen to me?" Ardo murmured, knowing full well that it was a rhetorical question. "I've explained it a dozen times."

"Fine. Make it fourteen times."

"…a dozen is twelve, dumbass."

"Whatever," Tara shrugged, her lack of mathematical ability not bothering her in the slightest. "Just explain." She gave a small smile. "Indulge me."

Ardo would have loved to point out the fact that he indulged Tara's interests far more than his own but decided against it, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good.

"Alright, I'll explain it once more," he sighed, putting the harvester in a higher gear so they could get back sooner. "The planet's called Hope because of what it represented to the early colonists.

"Really?" Tara somehow managed to sound both interested and bored at the same time.

Ardo nodded, going on to explain how Hope had been one of the earliest of humanity's interstellar colonies. Despite being a speck of dust in a sea of stars, it had a single redeeming feature in that unlike many other worlds, it possessed an atmospheric ratio similar to that of Earth and therefore didn't require terraforming. Although not the most appealing of worlds, it was a welcome beacon for the would-be colonists, most of who came from South America. Although more than a century had passed since the Rainforest Wars, part of the much wider Interplanetary War which saw humanity united under one government in 2170, the continent was still suffering from a crippled infrastructure and famine, not to mention the overpopulation crisis which had gripped the planet.

"Problem was, they dropped them on the pimple on the arse of the universe," Ardo continued, wiping back his dark brown hair which complemented his tanned Latin skin; a rarity as it was on Hope, the low light ensuring that most of its citizens possessed a pale complexion.

"And what makes it that?" Tara asked.

"What, you need me to tell you?" Ardo grunted, lowering the harvester down a gear as he neared the bend. "Hardly any sunlight, no native flora or fauna, low soil productivity… Hell, by all rights we shouldn't even be able to live on this dirtball."

Tara gave her brother a puzzled look, a small light in her grey eyes that complemented her pale skin; a combination of more Caucasian characteristics and low light conditions. Ardo remained silent. He could have gone on to explain that Hope somehow possessed a magnetic field despite the fact that its core was seemingly dead, that without a magnetic field they'd be fried by UV rays, but decided against it. It would take him hours to fully explain it to the ditz and besides, such a paradox existed on Mars as far as he could tell.

"Fair enough," said Tara after a moment's silence. "But why haven't we changed the name yet?"

"What?"

"Come on Ardo, you just explained how crap this place is." She gave a faint smile. "Why not change its name to reflect this?"

"…like what?" Ardo didn't like where this was going.

"Oh I don't know," shrugged Tara. "How about Dirthole?"

"You can't be serious."

"Planet Backwater?"

"No…"

"Craptastic?"

"Why me…?"

"Or how about-…"

"Damn it Tara, shut up!" Ardo yelled, slamming on the brakes. He shot a look at her, but not one of rage. In fact, come to think of it, he wasn't he even looking at her. He was looking out the window…up at the sky…

Following his gaze, Tara saw what it was.

Something was coming towards them. Something fast. Something that Tara initially guessed was a comet, but soon realized that this wasn't the case. Comets weren't made of metal for starters, or at least metal welded into a distinct shape. Nor did they apply afterburners, albeit ones that didn't seem to be much good. And above all, comets didn't head directly for the harvester you were in…right?

Tara didn't know. What she did know, albeit on the subconscious level, was that Ardo was yelling something while pulling her out of the harvester. Automatically she and her brother began running up the path, the wind having suddenly picked up. With a roar the…thing shot over them, the two teens diving forward as it did so. Their truck wasn't so lucky however. The object had come down with such speed that it had shook the valley path, the vibrations so powerful that the harvester had shifted precariously close to the edge…an edge that decided to promptly collapse. With a groan of metal, as if it were its death cry, the harvester toppled down into the abyss.

"There goes our truck," said Tara simply.

"Oh, ya think!" Ardo exclaimed, rushing over to the ledge to check upon the harvester, or rather, what was left of it. Caught between rocks and a hard place, the harvester's metal frame had shown how cruel gravity and velocity could be.

"Jesus, Riley's going to kill me…" Ardo murmured, carrying out a quick calculation in his head as to how long he'd be paying off the damage costs. Probably a year. At the minimum.

But what the hell was that? Ardo asked himself. What the hell are those bastards upstairs doing?

Ardo quickly gave up wondering. He knew precious little of what those above the planet did, or why they were here, and until now, he never really cared. Something about fighting some fictional conglomeration of aliens as far as he could tell, all part of some conspiracy to acquire funds for the UNSC's military. But this…this was just too far.

"Um, Ardo?" Tara asked tentatively, breaking the silence.

"What?" her brother asked, not really irritated, but simply just plain tired. His truck had gone off the cliff, Riley was never going to believe what happened, and somehow, those spooks from some naval intelligence group had poked him in the eye again. Therefore, the sight of some kind of…control panel made out of solid light (solid in that Tara's hand was resting on it) revealed by some of the inner cliff face giving way, came as a bit much.

"What do you make of it?" Tara whispered, gazing at the control panel as if she'd never seen something made out of solid light of green and purple before. Well, technically she hadn't and neither had Ardo, but that wasn't the point.

"Leave it," said her brother firmly. "We're heading home."

"Leave it?"Tara asked indignantly, glancing back at her brother as if he'd said something horrible about their long deceased parents. "Part of the cliff wall collapses revealing something of non-human origin and you want to leave it?"

Ardo couldn't help but wonder how Tara could marvel at a light show when their truck had been destroyed and something had fallen from the sky in the last five minutes, but didn't have time to ask why. The fact that Tara was looking at the panel with intense interest, as if she was possessed by it, made him favor caution. Truth be told, he felt drawn to it too. The strange symbols…they were nothing like he'd seen, or what anyone had seen for that matter, but he felt…drawn to them, as if he was meant to understand them but had failed to do so. It was what made him want to leave ASAP.

It was also what made his sister press the centre button.

Ardo immediately knew that Tara had done the wrong thing. After all, valleys weren't meant to shake like it was Judgment Day at the touch of a button. Entire cliff faces at the end of the valley, to the north, weren't meant to collapse at a moment's notice. And giant structures of non-human origin were definitely not meant to rise up from the ground on a backwater planet.

It was the last aspect that really got Ardo's attention, along with his sister. They watched as the structure rose from the ground, the valley eerily silent. It was reminiscent of the prow of one of the wooden ships used in Earth's early history. It looked out over the valley like a sentinel, its surface smooth and polished despite being buried underneath tones of rock for God knew how long. Majesty radiated from its being, but also foreboding.

Yet nothing could compare to the light show that followed, a pillar of pure white energy streaking up into the dark clouds and beyond. Light flickered throughout the dark sky, like lighting, yet calm, controlled. Silent, yet with more intensity than even the most powerful of Hope's plasma storms. Foreboding, yet beautiful. A show that mankind's thirst to explore the heavens, a desire present ever since his ancestors had crawled out of the sea and looked up at the sky in awe and wonder, was not misplaced, yet was an insignificant, fleeting desire that was irrelevant in the greater scheme of things.

It was all and one, one and all. It was beauty and terror incarnate. It was a display of raw power that had the two teenagers staring at it for what felt like eternity, an eternity that was broken by one single word, a word which broke the spell that hung over them…

"Shit."

A/N

I'm wary of having authors' notes dragging on to the extent that they effectively become a story in itself. However, there is a bit of a story behind this...story and while it's better covered in my profile, I thought it best to lay out the basics.

This is actually the third incarnation of Shadows of Hope, rebuilt from the ground up. The first, dating back to October, 2006, was from my early days of writing, back when I was working on numerous multi-chaptered fics with little sense of direction or quality control. The fic back then, while not the most original concept, was enough for me to return to, but deleted due to extremely poor writing. The second was a bit better, but reached a dead end due to canon issues, as Halo Wars and The Cole Protocol rendered some aspects moot. So now, finally, four years and two months after this fic first appeared, I've started posting its third and hopefully final incarnation-the last of the 'black sheep' fics from my early days that were either completed or discontinued. Not my favourite of the fics, given what I feel is a cliche storyline, but hopefully a bit more decent than what it started off as.

Then again, probably best to let readers do the judging.

(2011-08-06)

Corrected spelling orders, including MJOLNIR typo. Indeed meant to be Mk. IV.