Chapter the Third: Uncomfortable Silence

May 3rd, 2548

Standing on the observation deck of the UNSC Marathon-class cruiser, the Stormfront, Doctor Catherine Halsey watched through the plated glass surrounding her, as fire bloomed across the surface of the doomed colony planet below and she awaited the arrival of the artefact, and the Spartans whom carried it. Occasionally, one of the three warships providing an escort – the Destroyers Falchion, Halberd, or Katana, which were hidden within the same cloaking bubble as the Stormfront – would pass into view, dramatically backlit by the dying world of Eden.

Halsey, however, was by now immune to such awe-inspiring sights and instead only felt irritation at the delay; she'd received confirmation that the artefact had been secured, but it had yet to arrive, and she was starting to get impatient. She had told Admiral Hudson that Spartan-117 was the best choice for a mission of this magnitude, but he had pulled rank on her and sent his own operative instead.

The Spartan-III.

Halsey had come across such Spartans before – if they could even be referred to as such when they were obviously so much less than her own Spartan-IIs – and it never failed to annoy her. The very idea that someone had used her decades of extensive research and meticulous work to create such substandard soldiers was both galling and insulting, and though she didn't know exactly who had approved the decision, who had created them, or who had trained them, she could make an educated guess as to who was responsible.

After the Spartan-IIs had proved to be such effective assets against the Covenant, ONI had wanted more of them… Except they weren't willing to wait for Halsey to go through the rigorous process of vetting the potential candidates before approving them for another class of Spartan-IIs, and so instead they had approached one of her rivals – probably that snake Hudson since his projects always opposed hers for funding – who wouldn't be so thorough, but would produce results faster and cheaper.

And those results had been these… disposable supersoldiers…

From what little information Kalmiya had managed to glean from fragments of over a thousand highly classified communiqués, it seemed that these Spartan-IIIs were recruited as children of various ages from the many war orphanages that had sprung up in the Covenant's wake, augmented via second-rate chemical means that didn't require such a specific set of genetic markers, given the most basic Company-based training, and then sent en masse on large-scale suicide missions.

And it infuriated Halsey. Her Spartan-IIs had been trained for versatility; capable of successfully completing any type of mission. But these… copies… were only fit for the one-dimensional purpose of expendable cannon-fodder. ONI had taken the state-of-the-art Spartan warmachine and turned it into an inelegant weapon with all finesse and subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Though, that didn't explain why the select few Spartan-IIIs that Halsey had thus-far encountered in person wore MJOLNIR or upgraded SPI, had been pulled from their Companies, and were either members of small – sometimes only two-man – strike force teams, or lone wolf ONI operatives…

… just like the Spartan-III who had been playing the Admiral's pet grim reaper for the last three of years…

All things considered, Halsey simply didn't trust the Spartan-IIIs; she hadn't spear-headed the Program, she hadn't chosen the candidates, she hadn't overseen their creation or training, and that made them different. They weren't her Spartans. Despite that though, from the first time a Spartan-II had met one of their newer counterparts on the battlefield in 2546, they'd felt a kinship with the younger soldiers, because they were still Spartans in their eyes, even if they weren't Halsey's.

Even so, that still couldn't change the fact that the Spartan-IIIs were inferior. Even Hudson's attempt to outmanoeuvre her and send his own operative to retrieve the artefact had proved that; John had succeeded where the Spartan-III had failed, and that gave Halsey some measure of satisfaction.

The AI podium beside her glowed into life, breaking into Halsey's thoughts as Kalmiya's muted golden-orange avatar appeared.

"They've arrived, Doctor Halsey." She said.

Halsey didn't look at the hologram, but instead continued to gaze out of the window at the burning planet below. "How do they look?" She asked after a moment, keeping her tone cool so as not to reveal her impatience.

"As is to be expected." Kalmiya reported briskly, "Spartan-B312's Semi-Powered Infiltration armour is severely damaged and most likely unsalvageable, and Spartan-117's MJOLNIR will need extensive repairs. It appears he caught a hit in the chestplate with a gravity hammer. Other than that, however, the Master Chief is perfectly functional and requires only a brief medical examination. The Ghost on the other hand, has sustained serious injury to her left thigh which, while she received basic first-aid on the battlefield, will nevertheless need immediate medical attention."

"And the artefact?"

"It appears to be unharmed."

Halsey nodded slowly to herself, feeling quietly triumphant, before giving a response. "Have the Master Chief report to me immediately with the artefact. The Ghost can report to medical."

"Yes, Doctor."

The orange glow in Halsey's peripheral vision evaporated, signalling the AI's departure, and the doctor allowed herself a small, brief smile; her eyes still looking out at what had once been a thriving colony but no longer seeing it. She didn't know how much Hudson knew of the artefact, but that didn't matter.

Halsey would be the one to unlock its secrets, and she would find the Arc.

IOIIOIIOIIOIIOI

The medication in the biofoam was starting to wear off by the time the Pelican finally docked with the Stormfront, and the Ghost was beginning to limp slightly as the two Spartans disembarked, wincing minutely as every other step flexed her wounded thigh muscle and sent spikes of pain up and down her leg. Walking beside her as they crossed the hanger, shortening his usually long stride to match her shorter pace, the Master Chief glanced sideways at her through the visor of his replaced helmet. He'd noticed the limping despite her valiant attempts to hide it, and he couldn't help but feel a little concerned. Spartan she may have been, but the injury was severe and he knew first hand that Spartans were not invincible, no matter what the newsreels – or the UNSC propaganda – claimed.

He was just considering escorting her to the medical deck before making his report to Doctor Halsey, when the AI podium beside the door they had just come through to exit the hanger flared into life and the doctor's personal Smart AI, Kalmiya, coalesced on the lighted platform.

"Master Chief. Ghost." She nodded to both of them in greeting, "Welcome back. One-one-seven, Doctor Halsey has requested that you report to Observation Deck B immediately to discuss the details of the mission. Beta three-twelve, I suggest you seek immediate medical attention for your injury before it becomes aggravated any further."

Keeping her expression carefully stoic and fighting down the pain as she had been trained, the Spartan-III drew herself up, setting her shoulders and forcing her voice to come out calm and even.

"Inform Doctor Halsey that we're both on our way."

Kalmiya paused, as though surprised, but then she inclined her head, and disappeared from the hologram pad. The Chief angled his helmet towards the smaller Spartan as he looked at her. Though the reflective faceplate of the visor rendered his expression inscrutable, the slight straightening of his back and the sudden stiffness in his shoulders – almost invisible to everyone else – were definite physical cues to his mood for anyone who knew how to read them, especially another Spartan, and the Ghost could tell that he wasn't happy.

"You're injured." He said, as though reminding her.

The Ghost shifted her weight, eyes closing briefly as she drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. She nodded. Her face looked pale and drawn, but her expression was determined and her gaze steady when her eyelids flickered open and she looked up at him. A faint, lopsided smile played about the corners of her mouth.

"Carried it this far, might as well finish the mission, right?" She said, her tone light, before tilting her head slightly, "Going to order me to medical, Chief?"

The thought had already crossed his mind, but even as she voiced the question, he knew that he could order her until he was blue in the face and it wouldn't make a difference - she still wouldn't do it. And despite her flippancy about it, he knew her refusal was also a matter of pride. She'd retrieved the artefact and, despite her injuries and against all odds, she'd carried it through all the opposition they had faced along the way to get it here. She deserved recognition for that feat.

"Show the slightest sign that you've pushed yourself too far, and I'm carrying you to medical." He warned instead.

The Ghost flashed him a swift grin. She was so much more… easy-going than the other Spartans he had known, the Chief thought as he nodded and the pair of them headed towards the elevators that would take them up to the observation decks. Her manner of talking, her expressions, even the way she moved, it was all so much less guarded than any other Spartan he had worked with before. He wondered if all Spartan-IIIs were like this, or if the trait was uniquely hers. Either way, he found himself… fascinated by her; so familiar, yet so different…

Observation Deck B was a room made up almost entirely of reinforced glass, which Halsey had apparently commandeered as her workspace judging by the desk, the array of computer terminals, and the paperwork, open files, data-pads and coffee cups that were scattered around the place. Below them, the Covenant had begun to withdraw in preparation for glassing Eden, and it wouldn't be long before the Stormfront and its escort beat a hasty retreat as well, despite being cloaked.

As the two Spartans approached where the doctor stood before the fore glass wall, reading from a data-slate, the Master Chief couldn't help looking past her, to the numerous Covenant warships swarming about the destroyed colony world. No matter how many times he saw it, it still tugged on something inside him, and fuelled his hatred for the aliens who burned everything in their path that was human, simply because their Prophets proclaimed them to be an affront to the Covenant's Gods. Meanwhile, puzzle pieces were slotting into place in the Ghost's mind as some of the questions she had been asking herself were provided with answers.

Halsey was ONI, and likely had the clearance to view her unmarked file. If the Master Chief was her operative as the Ghost was Admiral Hudson's, Halsey would have let him read her entire file, classified or no, which would explain how he knew so much about her. If it was Halsey who had requested the artefact's retrieval, it would make sense for her to send her own Spartan to ensure its safety.

It was suddenly no longer a mystery why the Master Chief had been dispatched to assist her, but it did present a whole new mystery as to why he was acting as Halsey's operative at all. The stories she had been told of his exploits always placed him at the front line of a huge, important battle, with a team of Spartan-IIs under his command…

…why all of a sudden was he working as a lone wolf for ONI?

Halsey finally looked up from the data-tablet she was reading, and put it aside, studying the two Spartans for a moment – the Spartan-III looking much more worse for wear than her own Master Chief – before greeting them both curtly.

"John. Ghost."

The Chief snapped off his usual salute. "Doctor Halsey."

While the Ghost made the same movement, her salute was much more fatigued. "Ma'am."

"I will take the artefact now, beta three-twelve." Halsey said, holding out a gloved hand.

The Ghost limped forward and placed the Forerunner device into her outstretched palm. For a moment the doctor examined the strange metal ball before placing it carefully into the environmentally sealed clear plastic case waiting on her desk. Only when it was secure did she turn back to the waiting Spartans.

"I need a detailed account of the artefact's retrieval, and the opposition you faced whilst retreating to your evacuation point."

It was becoming more and more obvious with each passing moment that the Spartan-III was in pain and her strength was failing, but she nevertheless complied, relaying how she had found the artefact at the location she had been given – a museum of the alien curiosities which had been found on Eden by the setters – and was ambushed by a trio of Brutes, lead by a Chieftain, as she made her way back out. She described how she had managed to lose them in the city, before her trail had been picked up by three Elite Zealots who had proceeded to track her and pin her down in a dilapidated high-rise parking block.

Her voice faded off as she reached the part of the report when the Master Chief had made his appearance, and the Chief seamlessly picked up the thread of the account, briefly describing their run to the appointed evac zone, particularly noting the sheer size of the Covenant force which had been dispatched after them – no doubt to reclaim the orb. All while he talked, he kept glancing at the smaller Spartan beside him. Her expression was tight with pain, and hidden behind his visor, the Master Chief frowned. He knew he should have made her go to medical…

Halsey listened to the report in silence. The concentration of enemy numbers they described were much higher than even she had predicated – which meant that the Covenant leaders were at least partly aware of the artefact's value.

"Then it would seem, three-twelve, that you were fortunate John came to your aid. But tell me about your debriefing prior to the mission. What did Hudson tell you?" Surely the fact that the Spartan-III had insisted upon reporting to Halsey along with the Master Chief instead of having her injuries seen too was irrefutable evidence that Hudson had told her their suspicions of what they thought the artefact actually was, and she was under orders not to let it out of her sight until the very last moment.

Though the Spartan-III's expression remained neutral, her eyes revealed the frown she was containing. "…He told me it was a Forerunner artefact that was of interest and I was to retrieve it for you."

Watching Halsey curiously, the Chief wondered what exactly the doctor had against the younger Spartan, because she clearly had an issue. It may have been simply because the Ghost was the operative of Admiral Hudson – the commanding officer of the Stormfront and a frequent rival of Halsey's for project funding – but for some reason, he didn't think that was it. He remembered how she had never called any of the Spartan-IIs by their numeric designations, always by their names, so why was she calling Ada, three-twelve?

"Is that all he told you?" Halsey pressed. She herself hadn't told the Chief any specific details about the artefact, and she watched the Spartan-III with narrowed eyes. Despite the younger Spartan's much more open expressions, Halsey couldn't be entirely sure if she was being completely honest or not.

"Yes, ma'am." The Ghost nodded wearily. By now she was starting to look more like her call sign and the slightest bit unsteady on her feet, and the Chief's concern finally outweighed his usual adherence to duty and procedure; he didn't know if Halsey just didn't like the Ghost because she was Hudson's operative, or because she was a Spartan-III, or for some other reason, but she had suffered for quite long enough.

"Doctor Halsey, permission to make a request?"

She turned to him at last, her expression mildly taken aback. "Yes, John?"

"Ada sustained some serious injuries completing the mission. I'd like to take her to medical."

Halsey's gaze again fell upon the Spartan-III, and she was silent for several moments before finally answering. "Permission granted. Escort three-twelve to the medical deck, then report back to me. We have things to discuss. Dismissed."

Once again the two Spartans saluted, the Ghost appearing to be staying upright through sheer force of will, before they turned and left the observation deck.

Though her limp was more pronounced now and she had obvious difficulty walking, it was only when they were within sight of the elevators again that Ada's wounded leg finally gave out; it collapsed from beneath her so suddenly that she would have fallen, but for the Master Chief's exceptional reflexes. As soon as she stumbled, his hand shot out to catch her, and Ada instinctively latched onto the solid anchor of his armour, squeezing her eyes shut and breathing deeply against the sudden surge of nausea as the world tilted crazily and she fought to stop her legs shaking.

"Are you alright?" the Chief murmured. Ada didn't answer straight away, but after a few seconds, once she'd steadied herself, she opened her eyes and looked up at him before giving a slight nod. When she made to move away though, the Chief caught her wrist. The visor of his helmet slowly and obviously looked her up and down, from her pale, drawn expression, to her trembling legs, and she could almost see his frown.

"I'm fine." She insisted. The Chief made a rumbling umhm sound.

"Of course." He said. Then he looped one arm around her middle and bent his knees slightly to curl the other behind her legs, before smoothly rising and sweeping her up into his arms, already striding towards the elevators. Ada scowled.

"I said I was fine."

"If you were fine, you'd be able to walk."

"Oh har har, the man has jokes." She griped, unamused. The Chief didn't answer.

Judging by the group of medics and technicians waiting for them, it became clear when they reached the medical deck that they were expected, and the Master Chief reluctantly handed Ada over to one group while he was seen to by another. He kept glancing at the other Spartan as he stepped into one of the machines that would removed his MJOLNIR, watching as the technicians seeing to her forwent that procedure entirely and went above removing the plates of SPI themselves – apparently it was too buckled and twisted for one of the machines to handle.

The Spartan-III stared straight ahead as they vainly struggled with it, wincing every so often and looking like she was going to throw up.

They still hadn't made any progress by the time the Chief had been stripped of his own outer armour plates, leaving him in the black, lightly armoured subsuit, and the Spartan-II waved his own technicians off as he stepped out of the machine, striding over to Ada who was having increasing trouble staying on her feet. The two technicians trying to remove the SPI saw him coming and immediately stepped aside. The Ghost offered a wane grin.

"Caught me at a bad moment here, Chief."

The Chief made a hm sound, holding her gaze for a moment before turning to look at the technicians. "What's the problem?"

"Short answer? It's trashed." One of them answered, "The release catches are either twisted out of shape or melted together, and the plates are completely warped. I'm surprised that chestplate didn't crush her ribcage."

"She's a Spartan." The Chief said, his tone suggesting that that explained everything, before asking: "Can you get it off?" The technician shook his head vaguely and helplessly shrugged.

"…Yes…" he hedged after a moment, "But it looks like we'll have to cut her out. The SPI's beyond repair, so damaging it further isn't an issue, but it'll still take time."

Again the Chief made a hm sound, folding his arms as he looked over at Ada. She was becoming paler and paler every moment, and he could only guess at the agony her leg must have been causing her now that the biofoam's anaesthetic had more or less completely worn off. Though the foam's coagulant properties would last longer, cutting her out of the armour would cost time that she didn't have if her thigh wound wasn't patched up soon.

"Let me try."

Both technicians looked at him, sure they had misheard, but one look at the Chief's expression and the one who had spoken made a gesture that clearly said be my guest, before he and his colleague stood back. The Chief eyed the younger Spartan for a moment, assessing how best to remove the SPI, then met her eyes again.

"This is going to hurt."

Ada nodded exhaustedly as though she had expected as much. "Just do it."

The Chief nodded slightly in return and stepped closer, placing one hand on her shoulder and curling the fingers of the other under the bent metal of her chestplate, the lightly armoured gloves of the MJOLNIR's black subsuit protecting his hands from the sharp edges. Once he had a firm grip, the Spartan-II began to pull, the muscles in his arm flexing as the chestplate bent with a screech of metal and the release catches cracked and snapped. He felt Ada grab hold of his shoulder for support, swaying unsteadily as he systematically dismantled the SPI with brute force, the plates of twisted metal hitting the floor of the medbay with a series of clangs.

Finally, the Chief finished removing the dented pieces of armour and he eyed Ada critically up and down; beneath the metal plating, her dark undersuit was rent and torn in several places, revealing bloody gashes and extensive bruising.

She was far more beaten up then the Chief had expected… and she looked like she was about to collapse.

"C'mon," he said quietly, "You should lie down…" He helped her over to one of the gurneys nearby, and once he'd sat her down on it, the waiting medics descended and the Chief backed up, watching quietly as they began quickly and efficiently cutting away Ada's subsuit. Her coppery skin was mottled with bruises, frequently interrupted by contusions, and the wound in her thigh was a mangled mess. She'd heal, of course, but it would take time. The Chief didn't know exactly how the newer generation of Spartans differed from their predecessors; for all he knew, the Ghost could recuperate faster than he could.

Satisfied that the younger Spartan was being looked after, the Chief allowed the technicians to resume removing his MJOLNIR, and it wasn't long before he was out of the black underweave; swapping the armour for Spartan fatigues which were readily identifiable by their dark green colour and the bronze Spartan eagle patch on the breast and shoulder. One of the medics came over to assess the injuries inflicted by the Brute's gravity hammer, but after only a brief examination surmised that the Chief's shields and chestplate had absorbed much of the blow, leaving his chest only superficially bruised.

"Just try not to take any more heavy hits there for a while, and you should be fine."

The Chief nodded, pulling on his fatigue shirt and rising from the gurney he'd sat on while being examined. Halsey was waiting for him. With one last lingering glance at the other Spartan still being cut out of her undersuit, he left the medbay and headed back to Observation Deck B. The doctor was sitting at her desk with a new mug of coffee, peering over the rim at another data-tablet, when the Chief arrived. Behind her, through the transparent shield, Covenant ships swarmed around the planet as Eden was glassed. The Chief's insides clenched, but he forced back the feeling and stood to attention, saluting smartly.

"You asked to see me, Doctor Halsey."

Halsey looked up from her data-slate and smiled, she set the slate and the coffee mug aside and rose from her seat, moving around to the front of the desk and perching on the edge.

"John, yes, I wanted to ask you about Spartan beta three-twelve. What do you know of her?"

For a moment the Chief looked at her blankly, not knowing what to say; almost everything he knew about Ada was what he'd read in the file Halsey had shown him. Recruited at twelve years old, Ada hadn't been picked up from a war orphanage like so many of the other Spartan-III candidates, but had been rescued as one of the few survivors when the Covenant had attacked and destroyed her colony. She'd been at school during the attack, and according to the reports of the marines whom had been sent to engage the Covenant, the twelve-year-old had picked up a pistol from the body of a fallen UNSC soldier and fought back, thus earning her the attention of the Spartan-III Program. Her service record since then had continued to be impressive, with several successful campaigns under her belt, and that wasn't even counting the missions she had completed since being assigned to Admiral Hudson as an ONI lone wolf operative.

"…She's a good Spartan." The Master Chief said carefully, "Determined. Skilled. She has a lot of heart. And her name is Ada."

Halsey raised an eyebrow at that, then in a very deliberate tone asked: "Would you say she matches up to the Spartan-IIs?" Again the Chief didn't answer straight away, not entirely sure where the doctor was going with this line of questioning or what she hoped to gain from it. At a glance, especially judging by her most recent mission to retrieve the artefact, Ada didn't measure up to himself and the other Spartans of his class, but she was a different soldier, a different type of Spartan, who hadn't been trained in the same way as they had or been kitted with the same gear, so a direct comparison seemed unfair… as well as the fact that she'd been sent alone on a mission which, in the Chief's experience, called for at least two Spartans. Considering all that, Ada had done very well.

"Like I said," he replied, voice deadpan, "She's a good Spartan."

Picking up on his subtle refusal to differentiate between the Spartan-IIs and Spartan-IIIs when prompted, Halsey inwardly sighed and took a more direct route. "John… I realise you see her as a fellow Spartan, but the fact of the matter is, neither she nor any of the other IIIs are like you and the rest of the IIs. She isn't one of your Spartans, John. She isn't governed by the same loyalties as you and your Spartans were. She's Hudson's operative. Be on your guard around her."

The Master Chief watched her quietly, keeping his expression carefully neutral; he didn't want to believe it, but Halsey had a valid point. Ada wasn't a Spartan-II, she wasn't one of his. She was familiar. But she was different. Beyond the time they had fought together retrieving the artefact, he knew nothing about her. Not her motivations, nor her goals… not even if she was trustworthy. How did he know she wasn't above turning on her own?

It wouldn't have been the first time…

"I'm always on my guard, Doctor Halsey." He responded at last, nodding sharply once.

"Good." Halsey returned the curt nod, her expression relaxing minutely, "You're dismissed. Keep an eye on the Ghost." If Hudson was planning something, she wanted to know about it.

I intend to. The Chief thought. Outwardly he saluted. "Ma'am."

"John."

She watched him leave, then turned to Kalmiya as the AI once again appeared on the softly lit podium, finally allowing a little of her uncertainty to show. "I can't help but be concerned that he doesn't make distinctions between his lost Spartans and these… copies."

"He has always been loyal to you, Doctor." The AI stated.

"Hm…" Halsey murmured, "He has… but he hasn't come into contact with another Spartan since…" she faded off, not needing to voice the rest of her thought.

Since his old team was killed by another Spartan.