Sixteen: Foreshadow

"What does this button do?"

"Undim, don't touch anything!"

"But I'm great at buttons. – Oh, and look at that explosion!"

"Oh great! You broke it!"

"Yeah, no, the fire broke it. - Oh, see, I'm on fire, too, now. Awesome."

John rubbed his temples while listening to his Infected running around in the background, trying to put out the ensuing fire. [Remind me why I came back here?]

'Because you love us, Commander.'

[That may be a bit of an exaggeration. Fire suppression, please, Cortana.]

'Of course.'

Small hatches opened up in the area and dumped a massive load of fire-suppressant foam both on the fire and the Infected. [How are you liking the Enterprise?]

'She's big,' was the reply, 'I want to see how she performs myself once we're away.'

[Please keep in mind that she is, in fact, big and doesn't turn on a dime. Also we apparently have civilians onboard? Apparently.]

'Takes a lot of people to run a ship this size. Two-hundred-thousand-plus Infected and a bunch of Prometheans and Huragok is not enough. I'd like to test her Slipspace speed and guns, though. Since the P'Vort are coming, I want to know what I've got to work with.'

[Sure, we'll find you an asteroid field to blow up. Wait, we have all the Parallel Composers too? I thought we only pulled the one?]

'Did we not mention that?' Nep'Thalia inserted smoothly, 'The Parallel is mustering for battle as well, Commander. The Ecumene sent them ahead in case we find an opportunity to use them.'

[Hmmm… Ordinarily, I'd say that Composition is not a fate I'd wish on my worst enemies, but desperate times and all that.] He sighed. [And our number of ships has gone up to thirteen.]

'Hopefully we won't have any bad luck. Hasn't affected us so far.'

The original ships (the Perfect Storm, Darkest Hour, FireRain, MoonBlade, and Into the Night) were still present, but now they had sisters: the Librarian's Gift, Siren Song, Atonement, Builder's Legacy, Zealous Champion, Ambient Wonder, Out of Shadow, and the mothership large enough to carry them all within, the Enterprise. (The twins had wanted to name the Enterprise after the Moon Moon Internet meme, which didn't surprise John a bit, but they were voted down.)

Technically the other ships still belonged to the Ecumene, but the Forerunners didn't have the people to man them and so left them to the Infected.

'The last of the Guardians is away, Commander,' Uvë informed him, 'but there's a Slipspace signature on approach – the UNSC Infinity.'

[Roger that. Fenix, keep all weapons recessed. We won't offer battle unless they attack first.]

'Affirmative, Commander.'

The Infinity dropped out of Slipspace parallel to the Enterprise, but also perilously close to the Atonement. Her onboard ancilla quickly moved them out of the way, dropping into a lower orbit without breaking from her repair run.

The Infinity herself settled into a high orbit, and John spotted Exuberant Witness leaving one of her cargo bays, aiming for the installation below. [Exuberant.]

'Imperial Commander! Your wards are so very fascinating, very complex.'

[They treated you well?]

'Ah, yes. They had numerous questions, and I answered them as best I could, and then they offered to bring me home. It was convenient for them, for one of the older humans wishes to speak with you face to face.'

[Older humans.]

'The others called him "Admiral Hood." Why is he named after a head covering?'

[It's his surname,] John responded, holding out his arms as a small flurry of Constructors began removing his MJOLNIR armor, [Probably something his ancestors did gave them that name, and it's just been passed down.]

'How strange! Forerunner names are not changed nearly so easily. But thank you for watching over my installation while I was away, I appreciate it.'

[It was an easy task. Be well. When the P'Vort are dealt with, I have a feeling your installation will see an end of its silence for a long time.

[Comply with all reasonable requests from humans and the Arbiter,] John commanded, uploading reference data for the Sangheili, [but nothing that compromises you or your installation.]

'I hear and obey, Commander!'

John rolled his shoulders with a sigh as the undersuit came off, and let all his assorted spines and spikes form and slide out. It had felt strange keeping them withdrawn, like wearing clothes that were too tight but not quite to the point of discomfort. A combat form lumbered over to lend him mass for the reformation of his vestigial wings and long barbed tail, and at last he felt at ease.

The Constructors began building a new set of armor around him, working as fast as they could. It was a pain to keep still when his tail wanted to twitch back and forth like a cat's.

-------------------------------------------

"Admiral Hood, Captain Lasky, Commander Palmer, Spartans. I am Nep'Thalia, the Master Chief's second-in-command." She bowed slightly to the new arrivals on the Enterprise. "The Commander is expecting you. He's currently getting outfitted with a new set of armor, but he will be with you shortly. Please, this way."

"You're not gonna search us?" Buck asked, unable to stop himself.

"The Commander sees no reason you should not keep your weapons," the Forerunner answered, "He never asks that guests aboard the Fleet be disarmed, on the grounds that only the extremely foolish would attempt to attack us in the heart of our ships." She glanced back at them. "He also knows the comfort that being armed in unknown territory brings."

"…How is Cortana?" Hood asked finally as they crossed the bay to a tram station on the inner side.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

The AI's hologram appeared on a nearby panel, and she bowed slightly to them. "You seem to be all right now," the human officer observed.

"The fleet's fixed me up," Cortana affirmed, "That damned virus is gone, thank the Goddesses. We're broadcasting an – 'antivirus' of sorts to the rest of the UNSC."

"Good to hear. We're going to need every last one of you."

The tram pulled to a stop in front of them, and Cortana's hologram vanished as they moved to step aboard. Though they had a private car, they weren't the only ones who got onboard. "I got a question," said Buck, turning to Nep'Thalia, "Why d'you need a ship this big? If you've got all those others, surely they're enough?"

"Ordinarily, yes, they would be. But the Enterprise is large enough for full-scale planetary evacuation," the Forerunner answered, "which was incredibly important as asset denial during the Forerunner-Flood War, and likely will be again soon. We're hoping it won't come to that, but it pays to be prepared."

"'Full-scale planetary evacuation?'" Hood repeated, amazed.

"Indeed. With as many transports as we have, we can evacuate a planet like Reach in a matter of hours. Much of the Enterprise is uninhabited – some sections haven't seen use since the day she was completed. We have plenty of room."

Locke frowned at that. "If so many of your ships are empty, how many of you are there?"

"There are only about two hundred thousand Infected, and maybe two hundred and fifty thousand civilians – 'the Uninfected,' we call them, and we use the term 'civilians' very loosely. All of them are soldiers from other races, or at least combat-certified. We man all thirteen ships, but such a 'skeleton crew' is not unusual. Towards the end of the Forerunner-Flood War, it was quite common to see ships the size of the Infinity manned by a single Forerunner. Desperate times."

The tram came to a stop in the middle of a seemingly empty stretch of track. A section of one wall parallel to them folded away, and a light bridge activated, connecting to their car. The tram doors slid open at Nep'Thalia's approach, and she led the way across the bridge.

"Whoa…" Buck leaned a little over the edge to peer down into the dark space below. "You ever have anyone fall off these things?"

"Most people are sensible enough to stay away from the edge, but yes. Unlike most installations, we have gravity nets below to catch anyone who falls." Nep'Thalia guided them down a hall that opened up into the core artificial environment.

"Wow."

Ahead of them, perched on the edge of one of the "mountains" was a Forerunner structure, yet it was different than anything they had ever seen before. It was clearly a personal residence, the size of a small castle, and there were people inside.

The main doors slid open at the 2IC's approach, revealing a simple yet comfortable foyer – and a group of S-IIs in MJOLNIR-inspired Forerunner armor. They all looked up, then stood up and saluted. "Admiral Hood, Captain Lasky, Commander Palmer, Fireteam Osiris," said one who their HUDs identified as Grace-093. The other four were Isaac-039, Solomon-069, Arthur-079, and Cal-141. All of them had been confirmed KIA.

"At ease, Spartans," said the admiral, "It's good to see you."

"Thank you, sir. It's good to be back." All of their heads turned suddenly, listening to something the rest of them couldn't hear. Then at least a few of them cracked grins.

"The Commander's waiting for you," said Cal, gesturing to an archway that led deeper into the home, "And try not to freak out when you see him. The Flood infection does strange things."

They acknowledged her words and followed Nep'Thalia through halls, past bedrooms and sitting rooms and once a library with real paper books. Then they arrived in a much larger hall – the "cafeteria" if all the tables were anything to go by – and it was full of the rest of the Spartans, all of them having silent conversations. Walking toward them was unmistakably the Master Chief, but he, too, had been changed by the infection, and more than just his eye color like the others. Most obvious of the changes was the long barbed tail twitching behind him.

Instead of saluting as he reached them, the Chief bowed at the waist, letting them glimpse the vestigial wings pinned to his back by his armor, and the ridge of spines that ran down his back to his tail.

"That's quite a change, Chief."

"Indeed. I'm not thrilled about it, either – still not used to it. It's throwing off my balance." He led the way into a private room off the hall, tail still twitching. "But it's uncomfortable not to have it, so I'll figure something out." The Spartan gestured for them to take a seat when a hard light table and chairs sprung into existence. "Witness informed me that you wanted to speak to me."

"Correct." Hood sat down and folded his hands with a sigh. "The rest of HIGHCOM is not exactly happy all of you have gone AWOL."

"We are infected by the Flood and therefore legally deceased by the UNSC's standards. But what about yourself?"

"Personally, I'm content with the fact that you're alive and not our enemies, and I pointed that out to them as well. Serin was the most vocal. They all seem to think that you still owe us for the sheer amount of money pumped into the program, ignoring the fact that you were taken from your homes as children."

"Oh, Serin knows about that part intimately. She was formerly SPARTAN-019, but she refused to be a part of the team. Didn't accept the augmentations, then blamed Doctor Halsey for leaving her behind." Nep'Thalia huffed at that. "Paragosky played not a small part in that, but…" John waved a hand. "What exactly does HIGHCOM want from us?"

"As I understand it, they want you to either return to active duty or pay back what they put in to the program, which is a truly outrageous amount in my opinion."

"Cortana, fair market value for the S-II Program in its entirety?" John asked, glancing at a holopedestal on the corner of the table. The AI materialized and quoted a number so large that it made Lasky, Palmer, and Osiris choke. "Remove the cost of research done there that was useful in other fields, and the cost of non-Spartan personnel." Another significantly smaller number, two-thirds of the original, but still a huge amount. "Take out back pay, standard rate based on rank and years of service, but include the cost for you, too." The AI processed for a second, then quoted a third number roughly half of the first.

Nep'Thalia huffed again. "We can pay that easily."

"We can?"

"Time value of money, Commander. We've been investing in the human markets since the 1990's. And we published your novels, which actually netted quite a bit."

John turned to narrow his eyes at her. "You published that piece of shit series I wrote in the Parallel?"

"It actually did quite well."

"You wrote a novel? More than one?"

"I was bored and in the middle of bartending my way through seven hundred years, keeping an eye on humanity, so I figured 'why not?' and wrote a fictionalized account of my life in the Parallel."

"What's the title of this series?" Cortana asked, grinning as she planted her hands on her hips, "I'd like to read it."

"No."

"It's in the archives – I'm sure you can look it up."

John narrowed his eyes at both women, who simply smiled smugly back. Finally, he grunted, "Whatever. If you want to suffer through bad literature, on your own head be it."

"If you're even half as good at writing as you are at fighting, I'm sure it'll be fine."

He snorted. "Back on topic, since apparently we can pay, we'll do that. Is the last number Cortana gave-" The AI repeated it. "-sufficient?"

"I would say it's more than we deserve," Hood replied, "but less than the one HIGHCOM and the UEG decided on."

"Well, if we survive the impending Flood invasion, we can negotiate some more." John rested his arms on the table and met the officer's gazes. "If it comes down to it, is the UNSC amenable to working alongside the former Covenant? You seem to be getting along with the Sangheili fairly well, but the others are a different story."

"Do we have a choice?" Lasky stated more than asked.

"There's always a choice, Captain. But… we're only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Believe me, I'm not pleased with this situation – in the Parallel, I was half-convinced that I should glass the Covenant's home worlds, the Librarian's species indexing be damned." He shook his head.

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Why?"

"Humanity needed a common enemy," John sighed, "The Insurrection grew worse by the day, and eventually it would have turned from terrorist attacks into all-out war. We would have destroyed ourselves, but the Covenant forced us to unite, at least a little, against an enemy we couldn't hope to face alone.

"And if the Forerunners couldn't hope to defeat the Flood without destroying most of the galaxy in the process…"

"…what chance do we have on our own?" Lasky finished.

Hood sighed. "You fought in the Forerunner-Flood War in this 'Parallel?'"

"I did. It's not an experience I would ever willingly choose to repeat." Friends, allies, becoming enemies all around, civilians screaming and running, desperately trying to flee the Flood onslaught, dying as they were dragged down by their infected friends and family-

The remains of the Lesser Ark had proved to be a more hazardous battlefield than he thought. They had lost a number of transports in the debris, but then, so had the Enemy. He had ordered the Fleet to cripple rather than kill the Enemy's ships, but when they tried to board, tried to save at least some of the Enemy's slave races, that was when they discovered the true horror.

It had Taken them. All of them. The P'vort, the thirty-plus different slave species – all were gone, consumed by the Enemy and Its voracious appetite, rather than risk rebellion.

Though they recoiled from the horror of it – mother and child alike cut down and Taken as one, their bodies fused together in a mockery of an embrace, fathers and sons tearing at one another until both were consumed – such a vile act worked in their favor. There was no need to board and save, for there was no one to save.

And down below, hidden in the shadow of the Enterprise…

-John jerked out of the vision, flinching and blinking sharply, brows furrowing.

'That was-'

'-there, below the Enterprise -'

"-Master Chief? Are you okay?"

The Spartan looked up. Hood and Lasky were visibly concerned, leaning forward as if to offer help, and the S-IVs were tense, worried that they were about to come under attack. "Is something wrong?" Palmer asked, tone intense, hands tight on her assault rifle.

"No…" John said slowly, a faint smile pulling up just the edges of his lips, "In fact, I think something is finally right."