---

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It was around noon for the personnel of Anvil Station, originally it was an old resupply station that was once abandoned but recently has been brought up to modern standards. It is now a joint venture between the UNSC and the Swords of Sanghelios, the personnel of Anvil Station consists of a detachment of marines, ODSTs, Spartans, scientists, as well as Sangheili, Unggoy and a few Kig-Yar and even some sangheili artisan-armorers. The station consists of several armor bays, and armories, as well as hangar bays and war games simulation decks as well to and it even has a few recreational decks, gardens and commissaries for off duty personnel.

The station has recently received a distress call, coming from a UNSC ship that was thought to have long since been lost during the war a Marathon Class Cruiser by the name of the Edge of Midnight. The signal emanating from former Covenant controlled space, though recent intel suggests some Banished activity in the area as well to. A ship from Sanghelios is being sent to Anvil Station to pick up the team that is slowly being assembled to investigate the mysterious signal.

---

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Spartan Cassandra Reed had spent most of the morning training in the War Games along with a few other Spartans as well as a few members of the Swords of Sangehelios. At first she didn't really trust the Elites due to their actions during the war, they certainly would have lost the war if they didn't work with them. She wasn't sure how to work with them since being assigned to Anvil Station. But after spending the last few months getting to know some of them they weren't all that bad, they were good in combat.

Cassandra had gone to the Commissaries to get something to eat, she was out of her armor and was just wearing her military fatigues for now. Her eyes wandered around the room seeing a few humans sitting and mingling together. There were even a few Elites as well as some Grunts nearby. Cassandra went and grabbed herself a turkey sandwich from a nearby food holding container as well as a cup of water she then made her way over towards an empty table closest to the window. She watched as a few flights a mix of Banshees and UNSC Longswords flying together in formation on a patrol route.

Eight men and women sporting some of the most technologically advanced weapons and armor the UNSC had to offer slowly advanced into the darkened arena that had been constructed inside of Operations Training Room 4 of Anvil Station. With the dim light, half the team activated their night vision visors while specially assigned spotters switched to infrared in an attempt to spot the enemy team. Both sides had been deployed simultaneously into the arena, so neither side had the advantage of getting the drop on the other just yet. Nearly a full minute went by before one of the spotters reported a heat bloom behind partial cover near the right side of the arena.

Two riflemen moved to flanking positions and advanced on the heat signature, switching to thermal settings on their weapon sights. Banished forces still made use of active camouflage, a deadly advantage early in the Covenant War especially when what was usually concealed was an angry Sangheili who's natural strength matched those of the improved Spartans combined with the combat prowess of a warrior society. Their fingers hovered over their triggers as they got into position. A silent countdown passed between them.

Both soldier rounded the corner of the chest high cover wall at the same time, their sights trained with exacting accuracy on the heat bloom... only to feel the slight tug of tripwires on their ankles.

"Two men down, Sergeant," a gruff voice called out over the coms, "Cerberus 4 and 8, you've been killed by rigged fragmentation devices. Congratulations."

Both soldier cursed loudly, but kept their radios turned off. Slowly they sat down, one of them tossing the other a piece of gum as they settled in for the rest of the exercise.

"The heat source?," the Sergeant called back over the radio.

"Upended metal trash can, five thermal flares lit underneath and tied together. All heat. No light," the voice responded.

"Which means you can see us right now, can't you," the Sergeant mused.

"Good instincts, Sergeant," the voice sounded amused.

"Aerial Flares!," the Sergeant ordered and four flares fired up into the air and hung there, slowly falling back towards the ground as they burned bright. It was a good call, but it was too late to save Cerberus 2 as the man had the rifle knocked from his hands and was dragged around another piece of cover and tapped twice on the chestplate, a silent knife kill.

The missing soldier gave the rest of the fire team a direction to aim their weapons though and they slowly began to advance on Cerberus 2's last known location. A cluster of four beanbag rounds took one of them off their feet and they returned fire as a plasma sword snap-hissed to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cerberus Squad filed out, cursing their luck as they headed to the locker room save for their Sergeant who trailed behind them and examined a data pad. Stepping out of the room behind him was a sight no human wanted to see this close to one of their fellows. A sangheili elite warrior in yellow-colored armor reaching out with a hand that could snap a human spinal cord like a dry twig to tap at the data pad in the Sergeant's hands.

"Your trainee's did well on their weapon accuracy, but they need a reminder that glancing shots barely drain sangheili shields. They are served best by aiming center mass first, then adjusting for their target profile-," Tapo'hatam rumbled as he helped the Sergeant scroll through the readout from his armor. A small handful of years ago, he never would have dreamed he would be assisting their one time enemies with training excersises... teaching them the best ways to kill a sangheili warrior. Time and fate waited for no being though, and after the shattering of their Covenant with the Prophets, the Swords of Sangheilios stood ready to fight alongside and hunt down the fools who refused to honor the cease fire between Sangheilios and Earth.

"Perhaps this information is better viewed with a... beer," Tapo'hatam said, gesturing at the corridor which led to the cafeteria.

"No. I should debrief the men and give them double range time tomorrow," the Sergeant said quickly. Too quickly. Tapo'hatam still made so many humans nervous. The Sergeant didn't even salute as he broke away from Tapo'hatam and made his own way towards the locker room.

The Sangheili shook it's head, pushing down the irritation that was so quick to rise when he interacted with a human. He tried not to take such things personally.

After all, a few years ago he would have killed that entire team of humans and barely bothered to note their deaths in his records.

He walked into the cafeteria by himself, taking a moment to take a plate of cooked fish and herbal tea from an unngoy worker. The cafeteria was still somewhat segregated due to the differences in dietary needs between humans and the former races of the Covenant. He purposefully took a table that was closer to the middle, muttering what the humans often referred to as a mantra of peace before digging into the aromatic meal.

---

---

After spending her morning training inside one of Tapo’hatam and her CO’s war games, Yates retreated to her bunk for meditation. Tensions between the humans and the Covena-no, not the Covenant. They were the Swords of Sanghelios now. Some wounds and attitudes take years to adjust. Yates sat down on her bunk and crossed her legs. Mediation became a useful tool after training as a way to ground herself back into reality. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Starting with the sensation of her legs, Yates moved her attention upward throughout her body to regain control. This exercise helped focus her attention away from any distracting thoughts and emotions. After spending ten minutes in meditation, Yates rose from her bed with better composure.

The commissary provided a space for both human and alien to exist in each other's space without the pressure of training or military operations; however, divisions still arose. She couldn't tell the type of cliques that formed within the Sangheili, Unggoy, or Kig-Yar, but within the UNSC it remained clear. The Spartans often distanced themselves from everyone else but each other, the ODST often stayed clear of the Spartans, but were easier to intermingle with the marines. Yates chose to seat herself with her friends and team from this morning's war game. She glanced across the cafeteria spotting Tapo'Hatam. His name frequently appeared in the war-game debriefings, yet she never officially met him. How many times has Yates' name crossed his desk? She averted her gaze to return to her beans and rice. It was nothing special, but quite filling. Though, her mind drifted to the food and drinks served for the Sangheili, Unggoy, and Kig-Yar. How different was their physiology that they couldn't share the same food? Certainly there had to be something from the Kig-Yar diet that could be edible to humans?

Shipmaster Chur'R-Jev,

Tec, & Nol
Anvil Station, Commissary

---

It’d been a time since he’d last taken a ship by force, for real stakes. There was something exhilarating about the idea that offset the risk somehow, that put a finger on the scales. Of course, the Shipmaster knew that it was normally a foregone conclusion and yet…and yet there was something to it still. The human training rooms gave a good enough simile of the idea, but there was always something missing to it. There wasn’t the whole of the brutality towards it, the rush, the cutting away. There wasn’t the movements through new holes punched in the hull, the blood coagulating in the zero-g. There wasn’t a look of things.

They’d done well in any case, acting out a boarding that had gone particularly well. Zero-g, occasional losses of power, shrapnel throughout the whole of it that their combat harnesses shrugged off, and then the small team had moved through maintenance passages to bypass the normal thermal sensors. Holograph enemies - humans under the Banished with a few of the Jiralhanae - moved well enough but failed to realize the ambush before it had already begun. One grenade had taken Nol, though, and they’d taken engineering long enough to plant explosives before leaving quickly. Well. Quickly. The Shipmaster could feel his quills prick at the experience, which had gone somewhat poorly. Things to be improved upon. They hadn’t the normal resources that Chur’R-Jev would expect to be at hand. Something missing, always. Something lacking.

He shrugged the idea away, leaning against the hallway. One clawed hand reached in a pouch, drawing out a long, grey-gold wrapped cigar clenched between two thin fingers. A pause as the other hand activated the personal shielding, hitting a light fist against the shield before swiping the tip of the cigar against it. Cigar smoke wafted up as the shielding died down, the Shipmaster taking a long, satisfied drag.

”You should have taken their back ranks. That human with the armor - could have punched through him. You know that,” complained Nol to Tec, shaking his head at it. The grenade had enough of a flash and bang to it that his hearing was still ringing, something that the Kig-Yar certainly didn’t appreciate.

”Had a Jiralhanae to deal with. Didn’t think he’d throw a grenade with the ape right there. Stupid humans, you know, even when they aren’t real.”

A snort - or really the closest equal to it - followed from both. There really was something absolutely foolish about the whole of the endeavor, though the Shipmaster still felt like there was some profit, somewhere, that could be found. He’d already set up the smallest of black markets to move goods from one species to another, the cigars a closing bargain with the opening deal; one of the UNSC supply clerks who had a bit of space to stow bits of things here or there on a transport from ‘back home’. Good enough merchant, all things told, though Chur’R-Jev felt that they were too young to have been around for the great and mighty War of Annihilation.

”Come on, then. Could do with some food.”

And off they were, down the hallways of the ‘Anvil Station’, the Shipmaster puffing away with that cigar. It had a certain quality to it, the natural, dried leaves smelling like some of the plants from…where was it…one human world or another that he’d set foot on. He couldn’t recall the name, but they’d been farming there too. Reminded him of a few meals he’d had before, too, though the Shipmaster couldn’t quite place how. Human things were strange like that, nostalgic like that, but he enjoyed the sensation of it enough. It was calming, in a way, enlightening in another. Maybe if the Prophets had a few human cigars they wouldn’t have been so absolutely stupid. Well. Unlikely. He puffed on it a bit more.

Humans along the way gave funny little looks here or there when they thought he wasn’t looking. Some of them exhaled out the smells - even if Chur’R-Jev insisted that his crew not smell like absolute animals, the idea of bathing eluded most. Some of them had adopted his own style of sulphur-scrub, something that technically made for a clean Kig-Yar but certainly did not make for a pleasant-smelling one…at least, if the humans were anything to go by. He found them to smell just as, floral and artificial and absolutely toxic. Some smelled like they had just been rutting, sweat and stink, and others smelled like they were still in the station’s laundering facilities, cleaner and the rest of it clinging to them like clouds. He exhaled it away all the same. One day, maybe the Shipmaster would get used to them. One day. Unlikely. He puffed on the cigar all the same as they made their way through the station, outpacing most of the humans.

They found themselves in the Commissary - humans had such strange naming methods, really - with groups already here and there among the tables. He paused at the entrance, eyes scanning through all of them, from the humans to the Sangheili to the Unggoy to a few others of his own type. The last were normally of his own crew, the Shipmaster had found, or had already found themselves in want to go elsewhere. He’d made his position with them very clear, even if it was somewhat discretely, and those who weren’t on Anvil for the same reason had more than enough reason to be elsewhere anyways. No, they’d come to their understandings well enough.

The humans set themselves apart too, though, the Demons in one location, the…helljumpers, Chur’R-Jev could never quite reason with the human way for acronyms, in another, and then their standard troops elsewhere. Demons. He chuckled to himself at the thought, that they’d once quaked away at the idea, but those sort of humans had been long dead. The War of Annihilation had seen to their passing, even if they had left a mark of every species of the Covenant, and those who still claimed ‘Spartan’ were far inferior in the terror they could inflict. At least, that’s as the Shipmaster saw it. He considered that he might very well be wrong, and yet there was still something missing from those that the Demons before had. Another drag of the cigar, enjoying the last of it before he put the half-dead grey-gold out with the tips of his claws.

Pocketing the thing, they got into line, got food that was…well, it was cooked, really. Chur’R-Jev could recall when they’d ate the dead and the living with little enough care, though the latter was a rare instance indeed considering his career, but the idea of cooked meat had grown on the Shipmaster and a few others. It was, as the humans said, steak. Red juices ran freely onto the tray, that pink middle of the meat smelling like animals the Shipmaster had never seen before, and Chur’R-Jev fixed the attending Unggoy on the line with a brief enough look. The portion was not very much.

”Another slice? This is all I am getting.”

A mask stared back with those beady little eyes as the figure seemed to contemplate enacting oh-sweet-revenge, the smallest of getting back, the most minor of inconveniences to the Kig-Yar who had never been met before but surely had been brutal enough to other Unggoy. Finally, a huff through the methane mask as the tongs reached out to deposit another piece of steak onto the Shipmaster’s tray, one half the size of the first. He exhaled, nodding to the Unggoy before moving on. Of all the things Chur’R-Jev had needed to purchase that was the most costly, it seemed to be patience. Dealing with the Unggoy as they had before wasn’t an option anymore, and one had to get used to that.

A pause again, considering where to sit. Nol gestured to an open table across from a few of the other Kig-Yar who seemed to be devouring several eggs at a breakneck pace, and Chur’R-Jev was tempted enough, before he considered what would be more entertaining as a whole. He beckoned the two follow, and slowly the trio wound their way to a table next to the humans who the Shipmaster knew had just been in training as they’d had. Sitting down, he watched as Nol picked up his, a snap of the mouth removing a good quarter of the steak in one go.

Turning to the humans - Marines, as the Shipmaster understood them - he chuckled. Speaking in English, that stupid human language that never could make sense, Chur’R-Jev said with a rasp, ”Have you been enjoying the Sangheili training?”

Lance Corporal Lucy Holden
Anvil Station

The training areas had been bustling since the station first went into operation. The UNSC was more than eager to learn all they could from the Covenant races aboard. Weapons research, tactics, cultures, psychology. Everything that they could get, no matter how small, could impact the greater war effort. The war effort. The sole thing that had brought Lucy out of her early retirement. She'd been canned after the end of the Human-Covenant war in 2553 due to unbecoming attitude, despite being promoted to Sergeant for it. Now she was back down to Lance Corporal and still teaching marines and troopers much higher than she was about the finer points of knife-fighting.

Unfortunately, not everyone above her was so willing to learn. As she finished the lesson with a Sangheili, Kig-Yar, and Unggoy standing behind her, a Marine Second Lieutenant stood up.

"Why do I gotta take your class. I already did combatives on the daily. When will I ever need to stick one of these Covvies with my knife when I have my gun?"

The marines all gave a pity chuckle to their platoon leader.

"Well, sir. Would you care to demonstrate how to use a knife against an unarmed opponent for us?"

Lucy had to work to keep from donning her signature shit-eating grin. She was about to wipe the floor with this guy.

"If you want it, Lance Corporal." The Lieutenant said, walking up towards her.

Lucy turned to the rest of the group and said. "We will now demonstrate how to overpower an opponent. Here, sir. I think you'll need this more than me." She said to him, tossing him the rubber practice knife. "Give me your best shot."

The Lieutenant caught the knife and took up a standard fighting stance. Lucy smirked and watched the man move in towards her, trying to test her reach. He was probing for a reaction. A defense. Lucy could see through the feints. When the Lieutenant came in with a full strike, she swiftly stepped around his arm and grabbed it with one hand and pinned the arm against her chest. Her other hand reached across the front of his chest and snatched at his bicep, pushing her own against his head in an unorthodox hold.

"Alright let's show everyone how you got here." Lucy said, pulling him in a circle as he struggled to switch the knife to his other hand. "And now, a quick takedown will finish this lesson."

Lucy made sure the group was in full view as she kicked the Lieutenant's knees from behind, causing them to buckle immediately. She then used her left arm that was currently across his chest to throw him back, planting him onto the mat and knocking the wind out of his lungs. She pulled the knife out of his hand and tapped it into his chest.

"And here we can get creative and puncture his lung. Or maybe go for the gut. We can also stab up into the armpit and sever an artery. Or we could-" Lucy flipped the Lieutenant on his stomach and pulled his head up, exposing his neck as she tapped it with the rubber knife again. "-go right for the throat. This concludes the class." Lucy said, standing up off the man. "Thank you for the demonstration, sir. Better luck next time."

The Lieutenant glared at her and marched off with his hair on fire. She shrugged to herself.

"Alright class dismissed."

The rest of the group stood to attention and departed. Lucy rolled her shoulders as she stood in her t-shirt and PT shorts. She headed out to her room and switched over to her boots and fatigue pants.

"Let's see what they got in the chow hall today."

Lucy took off and headed for the D-FAC. A station as big as Anvil's had multiple stores and dining facilities for separate sections of the station. She preferred to eat with the other troopers, though. She grabbed her tray, got a nice helping of krab alfredo and biscuits, a fresh apple, and grabbed a cola for her drink. On the way back she quickly snagged two pieces of bread and some peanut butter single-serving cups. Extra protein never hurt, especially when she hit the gym as often as she could. She took a seat next to her fellow ODSTs and dug in, knowing that a meal could be interrupted at any time.

[Senior Chief Petty Officer Solares Morgenstern] - [Anvil Station] - [13:45]

"You know, this room does have a really nice view of the planet below." Solares paused, her eyes tracing the curve of the world outside the large reinforced viewing window. Below, the planet shimmered like a living canvas, swirling clouds of deep cyan and indigo twisted over vast oceans of sparkling cerulean, wisps of silver mist drifting lazily along the surface. The atmosphere glowed faintly, wavy streaks of turquoise and teal bending the light, as if the air itself were alive with motion. A faint hum of the station’s energy conduits resonated through the floor beneath her boots, adding a subtle vibration that she could feel in her chest.

"Damn… that's very beautiful."

"Help refresh my memory, what's the planet called?" she inquired, leaning back into the real leather couch, crossing her right leg over her left, letting herself sink comfortably into the cushions. The leather softened under her weight with a subtle creak, and she felt the warmth of the sunlit viewport brushing across her armor. Her cyan eyes swept over to the waitress standing awkwardly nearby, who shifted nervously on the polished floor.

"Senior Chief Petty Officer Morgenstern, this is the off-limits VIP room," the waitress replied, clearly trying to maintain her composure. "You're not supposed to be in here without permission from higher-ups."

Solares chuckled softly, the sound bouncing lightly off the high ceiling, and removed her helmet with a soft hiss as the padding shifted. She placed it on the ultra-modern metal-and-wood coffee table in front of her, resting her feet upon its surface. Her armor caught the dim lighting, glinting faintly as if the room itself approved.

"And miss out on the free food and drink? With the view? Hell no! Here’s what I’ll do." She leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on her knees. The subtle weight of her gauntlets and the small click of their servos as she adjusted her wrists added to the comfort of the moment. "Once I finish my lunch and drink, that you’re making back there, I’ll leave, and no one will know. Perfect, right?"

The waitress sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, and released a tiny squeak from the soft leather of her shoes. "Alright… but please, don’t let anyone else know I did this for you, or both of us will be in for a reprimand."

Solares smirked, reclining again into the couch, the cushions molding to her shape. "Our secret’s safe. Just keep the food coming."

A familiar, teasing voice echoed in her mind, light enough to draw her focus.

"So you actually managed to convince her to not call security on you? How did you manage that, eh?"

Solares blinked, tapping her right foot against the table with a soft tap-tap-tap. "Maya… already? Really?"

A soft shimmer appeared, and a holographic figure materialized next to her helmet on the coffee table. Maya’s kitsune form, clad in black-and-red Sengoku-style samurai armor with no helmet, moved with fluid grace, tails swaying behind her in elegant arcs. Her cyan eyes gleamed with mischief, reflecting the soft light, and her playful smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she leaned lightly against the helmet.

"I see you’re enjoying yourself… but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Yet."

Solares shook her head, letting a small scoff escape. "You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?"

"Only if I open an airlock or close a bulkhead door on you… or well, you get the idea," Maya replied, waving her right hand in mock innocence. "I’m just messing with you, my favorite Spartan."

"Favorite? I am your only Spartan, but I will happily take the complement, my favorite AI. One day, hopefully soon, we’ll get you upgraded to that new fancy ONI AI technology, I swear."

Solares took a slow sip from the pumpkin spice latte placed in front of her, feeling the warmth radiate through the ceramic into her fingers. The rich aroma of roasted beans mingled with the cozy scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin from the latte itself, while the silky steamed milk foam softened it all into a comforting sweetness that was very welcomed and nostalgic.

Maya nodded with a smile, then gracefully seated herself, crossing her legs like a true kitsune, the gentle swish of her tails brushing the coffee table. "Awww, look at you going all soft for me, eh? I’ll hold that to you, but the amount of logistics and black tape we’d have to cut through for that? I’ll believe it when I see it."

Solares set her tray on the coffee table, the ceramic clink echoing faintly. Steam curled from a plate of spicy Italian sausage risotto, rich with sun-dried tomatoes and flecks of chili pepper. The aroma mingled with the faint metallic tang of Anvil Station, the creamy rice catching the soft glow from the view outside. She forked a bite into her mouth, letting the spice and richness spread warmth through her senses.

"Mmm… Arrabbiata-level spice for my favorite Spartan? Careful, or you’ll need a fire extinguisher instead of a napkin," Maya teased in her head, tails flicking in amusement.

Solares glanced at the hologram. "You’re sadly mistaken if you think I’ll share."

Maya’s tails flicked in perfect sync with her subtle movements, cyan eyes sparkling. "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Maybe a taste… through my very sophisticated visual taste sensors, of course."

Rolling her eyes, Solares took another hearty bite. "You don't even have those though, do you? You’re impossible. Do you even know how to eat?"

"I know how to appreciate good flavor. And you, my Spartan, have exquisite taste in risotto," Maya replied, leaning lightly against the helmet, smirk still in place.

The two shared a moment of quiet banter, the swirling turquoise and indigo clouds of the planet below reflecting in their eyes. The warmth of the food, the faint hiss of the ventilation system, and the soft shifting of cushions all made the moment feel oddly cozy, human amidst the technology.

From the corner of the room, the waitress lingered just long enough to straighten a chair, her fingers brushing the counter lightly as if afraid to make a sound. She cast a quick glance toward the pair, eyes wide behind a nervous blink.

“Pardon my interruption, but is… everything, uh, looking and tasting great?” she asked, voice a little too high and hopeful, trembling slightly.

Maya’s holographic eyes flicked toward the edge of the room, a sly smirk dancing across her lips. “She’s adorable when she’s terrified. I wonder how much this meal costs.”

Solares barely suppressed a chuckle, biting down on her fork. “Relax, she’s only doing her job. Let’s not scare her too much. Also, I do not want to think about that.”

The waitress gave a small, shaky nod, muttered a barely audible, “If there is nothing else, I am going to leave and return to my other duties… yes… duties,” and retreated toward the door, the soft squeak of her shoes fading down the hall. She glanced back once more as if expecting the kitsune to leap out and scold her.

Maya’s tails flicked in amusement, cyan eyes glinting. “She’s going to go complain and get security. Just watch.”

"Hah! That would be amusing, I outrank most of these people," responded Solares, voice steady but warm.

"Yeah, that is true, but security outranks everyone if the situation calls for it. Remember what happened to that one ship captain that went against orders and was detained? We do not want that," Maya said, her smirk cooling slightly. "Speak of the devil, it looks like a jinxed us."

The security officer’s visor reflected the soft glow of the planet below, posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. The faint hum of his power armor accentuated the tense silence. Flanking him were two Spartans in sleek black armor, standing motionless like statues, underscoring their intimidating presence.

“Senior Chief Petty Officer Morgenstern,” the lead officer said, voice clipped and professional, “we received a report of unauthorized access to this VIP area. Can you explain your presence here?”

Solares tilted her head slightly, cyan eyes meeting his, fork poised mid-air, steam from the risotto curling lazily around her helmet. “Enjoying the view and my risotto. That about covers it,” she said smoothly, letting a small smirk play across her lips as she leaned back, the leather sighing beneath her.

Maya flickered beside the helmet, tails curling with suppressed laughter. “Oh, this is perfect. You’re adorable when you play the ‘I’m totally innocent’ card. Shall I provide commentary?”

Solares narrowed her eyes, letting her gaze sweep briefly over the two black-armored Spartans. “Not unless it helps me avoid paperwork or brig time,” she muttered under her breath, ignoring the heavy tension the extra presence added.

The officer shook his head. “I am going to have you removed from the room since we have visitors stopping by here soon. Please do not make breaking and entering a habit, I do not want to turn this into something unpleasant.”

Without hesitation, the two black-armored Spartans moved in. They effortlessly placed Solares’s helmet back onto her head, padding shifting with a faint hiss, then lifted her gently and set her outside the room on her feet, careful but firm. Solares raised a hand as they started to step away.

“Hey, just a moment, please. I still have my latte and lunch in there!”

One of the Spartans handed her the tray with the risotto and coffee, their armor clinking softly. “What a gentleman. Thank you, kind sir,” she said with a teasing tilt of her head, inhaling the warm aroma. "Ahhhh, pumpkin spice."

Maya’s holographic form lingered beside the helmet before appearing on her HUD, cyan eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, that escalated quickly. You handled that beautifully… barely.”

Solares gave a soft exhale, adjusting her helmet. “Barely is fine, I will take what I can get.” She muttered under her breath, already plotting her next playful confrontation.

Soon, they continued on their way through the station.

Working alongside the alien species that had once made up the Covenant was something that never sat entirely right with Solares. Still, she understood its importance—how it could foster peace throughout the galaxy and help ensure that nothing like those dark days would ever happen again.

"Hey, Solly?" Maya’s voice called softly as Solares walked past a group of Sangheili elites, her teasing tone gone, replaced with quiet concern. The faint click of their armor plates moving in unison echoed softly across the corridor, a muted metallic rhythm underfoot.

"You still bothered by their presence?"

Solares exhaled, eyes lingering on the elegant, imposing figures of the Sangheili. Their armor reflected the corridor lights, polished yet battle-worn. "They killed billions… they killed my parents," she admitted, her voice steady but tinged with old pain. She ran a gloved hand along the smooth metal of the corridor rail as she walked, seeking a small anchor in the sterile environment. "But if 117 trusts them, I’ll do my best to do the same. I just… hold old wounds, grudges, you understand."

She pulled a small metal patch from her armored pocket, running her thumb lightly over its surface for comfort, the faint ridges pressing into her gloved hands soothingly. "You still have that Spirit of Fire patch with you," Maya noted quietly, her cyan eyes reflecting soft sympathy. Her holographic form tilted its head slightly, one tail flicking slowly, almost imperceptibly, as if sharing in Solares’ quiet reflection.

"I’m glad it brings you comfort."

Solares nodded, looking up at the stars streaking past the viewport above. The soft hum of the station’s systems vibrated lightly through her boots, a low, constant reassurance in the background. "Yeah. I hope they’re out there, not only the ship, but also my friends and family stationed upon her."

Maya’s tails swayed gently behind her, each movement smooth and elegant, a silent rhythm that seemed to echo patience and reassurance. Her cyan eyes softened, a faint shimmer trailing along her form as she appeared just a hair closer, maintaining a respectful distance but offering presence nonetheless.

"The galaxy is extremely large, this we both know," Maya said softly, her voice carrying a calm certainty, "but I hold faith they will appear somewhere again, and receive a hero’s welcome." She flicked a tail once, subtly, a gesture both playful and comforting, letting Solares feel the kitsune AI's attention without breaking the solemnity of the moment. She vanished, allowing Solares to focus.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation while walking down the corridor, and finishing her lunch, her HUD flickered with the soft blue glow, and Maya’s holographic form appeared in the corner once more, cyan eyes glowing, her three tails swaying with fluid elegance, smirk tugging at her lips. "I know what will make you feel better! Let's talk about how to take out each of those Covi bastards." Solares couldn't help but chuckle softly, nodding her head in agreement.

Solares: “Sangheili first. If you’re close, aim for the carotid or the gaps behind the shoulder armor. Energy sword in hand? Step back and target the joints behind the knees or armpits. Quick, clean, efficient.”

Maya (HUD): “Ooooh, going full Master Chief lecture mode, huh? I love it. Can't forget that so-called mishap with the thermite grenade and one of their maws. Question though, what if they have those red energy swords?”

Solares: “Yeah, that was one hell of a site to see, and if they have red energy swords? Better hope it is not someone from the silent shadow or you are in deep shit. Anyway! Unggoy: Soft neck, exposed throat. Step around the fuel packs, one mistake and you’ll regret it. Precision counts more than strength.”

Maya (HUD, cyan eyes twinkling): “Ah yes, the infamous moving explosives. You really like to remind me, don’t you?”

Solares: “I do indeed, we have had quite a few interesting encounters with them. Next on the list is Kig-Yar: Eye lens first, spine lightly armored. Shields weak at arm the head. Quick, surgical shots.”

Maya (HUD): “You make it sound so… charming. Surgical indeed.”

Solares: “Yanme’e: Back of thorax, wing and leg joints. Neural ganglia is the target if reachable. Avoid bites, they hurt, even through armor. They really do not like fire.”

Maya (HUD, playful smirk): “Yes, they bite with their fangs? Mandibles? Noted.”

Solares: “Lekgolo: thick armored plates, look for the gaps. Attacks from the back, with melee, get it down fast, the rest panic if you also use lots of grenades.”

Maya (HUD): “Fun fact: they do not appreciate sarcasm mid-dismantling. Who knew?”

Solares: “Jiralhanae: Under shoulder pads, neck, knees, groin. Strong, slow, it is easy to outsmart them, precision over brute force. Once saw one take two shots to the head with a fifty, not sure how.”

Maya (HUD, tails flicking in the corner): “Pun intended with the BRUTE force! Careful, or they’ll toss you across the room then eat you. Not that I’d intervene… probably.”

Solares: “Please tell me you are kidding? San’Shyuum: fragile, command units that prioritize distance, and cover fire. Limited mobility makes them predictable manipulators. Honestly anything works on them, melee is the most fun through."

Maya (HUD, cyan eyes sparkling, teasing tone returning): “And so you must be silenced! Ahem, you make it sound like a tactical seminar. I might take notes… purely for research purposes, of course.”

Solares: “Should I be concerned?”

Maya (HUD, playful): "Three… two… one… boop!"

Solares froze mid-step, the clack of her boots suddenly louder in the empty corridor, realizing too late that she’d been distracted. Her shoulder collided squarely with Cassandra Reed, sending a soft thud echoing off the metallic walls.

Solares: "Ah! I am sorry, Miss Reed, I didn’t see you there!"

Maya (HUD, smirking, tails flicking in her virtual corner): "Smooth, as always. A+ for stealth, minus a hundred for collision avoidance and situational awareness."

A soft shimmer appeared atop Solares’s helmet as Maya materialized, elegantly perching there on her side. Her holographic tails brushed lightly against the top of her helmet as if sweeping it.

Maya: "We were talking about the finer points of taking out Covenant aliens. That always pulls her attention away from everything else. honestly, it is a bit concerning! She has it down to an art."

Solares: "Thanks for the… helpful warning, Maya. You really do have a talent for bringing out the worst in me."

Maya (grinning, tails curling): "Worst? I call it your relaxed, fun side! Besides, I’m just providing real-time tactical distraction reports and, okay, a few hundred thousand other things. Think of what just happened as field training in spatial awareness!"

---

---

There were quiet a few people filing into the cafeteria to get their lunch, a young scientist around his mid-thirties or so would grab himself a plate, a basic salad along with a turkey and cheese sandwich. He looked around the room for a moment, most of the races in the room were hanging out with each other while there were a few who went to mingle with one another. The young scientist spotted Tapo'hatam sitting at a table by himself and decided to approach taking a seat across from the Sangheili warrior and extended his hand to the alien. "Hello there how are you? I'm Clayton Byrd it's nice to meet you." Clayton would say in Sangheili, he wore a lab with a name tag on his coat. He had long brown hair that was tied off in the back, and light skin with a small beard growing as well to. He tended to work on the various Mjolnir designs in one of the many labs on the station.

Over at one of the tables Kajina would be joined by a member of her squad Corporal Claudia Hansen, who had training with Tapo earlier that morning as well to. She had short brown hair and brown eyes, and tanned skin. "Hi hows it going?" She asked, she had a plate with a burger on it with bacon, cheese ketchup and mustard and a side of fries. She was looking over at the table towards where some of the members of the Swords of Sanghelios were she was a few years younger than Kajina was as she took a bite out of her burger Claudia didn't really trust them just yet her family was killed on Reach back during the Human-Covenant War. "What did you think of the training earlier?" The young marine asked her the training was pretty hard from what she was used to. The young corporal tensed up slightly and turned her attention over towards Chur'R-Jev, Tec, & Nol who decided to join them. "It was a bit tougher than what we did in basic training." Claudia answered the Kig-Yar skirmisher.

At the ODST table Lucy would be joined by one of her squadmates as well to Finnian Mcgowan he had short ginger hair along with a slight stubble over his face. He sat down next to her and gently nudged her as he took a bite out of his fried chicken and looked over towards the table where the three Kig-yar were talking with a squad of marines at their table. "Never thought i'd see some Jackals talking to them in my experience they tend to try and take a bite out of humans." Finnian said with a Scottish accent he was born and raised in Scottland back on Earth, he took a spoonful of mashed potatoes and ate it. "Also nice job on kicking the LT's ass earlier to." He said with a slight laugh as he enjoyed his meal.

---

---

Cassandra looked around the room as she observed those that were there as she adjusted her plate of food as she was about to go and take a seat she decided to go and join the table with Tapo'Hatam and the scientist that decided to join him. She stumbled slightly when someone bumped into her. Cass quickly grabbed her drink before it fell onto the floor luckily she was a Spartan now if she was a regular marine she probably would have been knocked over by a fellow Spartan in full gear. She turned around to look at Solares and gave her a slight smile.

"It's totally okay, but maybe pay attention more closely next time, you might hurt someone who isn't in full Mjolnir Armor." She said jokingly as she looked over at the table she was going to join seeing Solares' personal AI there and gave Maya a friendly wave. "Was going to go sit down over there if you want to come and join me." Cass said as she gestured towards the table.

Cassandra then turned and started to make her way over towards Tapo'Hatam's table and looked over at the Sangheli warrior and Clayton. "Mind if I join you guys?" Cassandra asked gesturing towards the empty table. Clayton took a moment looking at the Spartan out of her gear, he worked with Cass with her armor from time to time. "If my Sangheli friend here doesn't mind I don't mind." Clayton said looking over at Tapo'Hatam.

Tapo'hatam was intrigued by the number of guests he was receiving during the meal. A few humans tried once in a while to share a table with him, some out of respect for the still fresh alliance between the Swords and Earth, others he had a feeling did so on a dare from their fellows. The scientist that was first to approach him received a curious tilt of his head to the side and a gesture that indicated the seat was open and available. Tapo'hatam tried to gauge the man's intentions but human's used more facial features to convey their thoughts than Sangheili, who were used to emptying their body language completely as a form of respect to one another.

The humans attempt to speak Sangheili was amusing, they all sounded a few octaves too high to Tapo'hatam's ears. Like a child that was reading from a book of higher learning. Of course he assumed he must sound the same to their ears.

"Tapo'hatam," the warrior returned the greeting by extending it's own hand and engulfing the scientist's up to his wrist. Tapo'hatam had learned early on with this that he could not bring any real strength to the greeting. Normal human bones snapped and ground together into so many shards at the flex of his alien muscles. He switched to the terran english language effortlessly to make conversation more comfortable for those around him, "You are welcome here, if you do not mind the fish's smell. The aroma is part of the enticement."

They exchanged some polite conversation about their duties aboard the station, with Tapo'hatam expressing an interest in the Mjolnir shield technology. In some ways, it was superior to the Covenant's designs and one of the few edges humanity had over their previous foes. There had been some discussions about Sangheili armor being outfitted with terran technology, but there were still a great many purists among the Sangheili who saw such desecration of their armor and weapons as offensive no matter the gains to be had. Tapo'hatam had similar views but saw it as a personal choice and offered no grudge against those Sangheili embracing terran technology. After all, their demons had proven-

As though thinking of them had summoned one, their table was approached by one of the advanced modified humans themself. Tapo'hatam's mandibles moved in a slightly inwardly drawn motion, the equivalent of a grin for their species. Many former Covenant species still feared the demons, but for some Sangheili it was like being in the presence of a grand enemy warrior. Someone who's innate existence bought a level of respect reserved usually for other Sangheili warriors. The respect was always a bit of a double edged sword though, the same grin that greeted a fellow warrior was also the grin that anticipated an epic amount of skilled violence.

"Of course, Spartan-Captain," Tapo'hatam said, combining the human's word for their demon soldiers with what he assumed was her rank. He was still getting used to UNSC insignia.

"We were discussing the pros and cons of Mjolnir shield technology versus Sangheili adaptability. Our Active Camoflauge is still superior to the terran equivalent, but your shield projectors compensate better for extreme ballistic impact-"

Solares glanced at Cassandra, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Sounds like a plan, just a moment, I’m going to grab some food and a coffee.”

Maya’s holographic form flickered beside her helmet. “Coffee again? Really, Solly, you don’t need another caffeine spike right now. You’ll be bouncing off the walls before lunch is even halfway over.”

Solares laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “Fine, what would you suggest instead?”

“Mulled spiced apple tea,” Maya suggested, her cyan eyes glinting with amusement. “Cinnamons strong, subtle clove undertones, apple notes. Emotionally stabilizing, zero caffeine in it is highly recommended from me.”

Solares nodded and made her way over to the station’s food counter. The scent of fresh bread, grilled meats, and roasted vegetables filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of metallic surfaces and the ever-present hum of life aboard the station. She scanned the trays, eyes locking on a freshly made sandwich: marinated, antibiotic-free chicken, melted jack cheese, grilled onions, jalapeño peppers, lettuce, and tomato, nestled in a soft, slightly sweet brioche. Instead of the usual mayo, a bright, spicy BBQ sauce had been added, promising a subtle heat that would complement the sweet bread.

With a careful hand, Solares collected her sandwich and a steaming cup of the mulled spiced apple tea, the aroma curling up to greet her senses. She carried the tray back to Cassandra, weaving through groups of humans, Sangheili, Unggoy, and Kig-Yar, their conversations a low hum of chatter and laughter.

Sliding back into the seat beside Cassandra, Solares set the tray down with a quiet clink. She peeled back the foil of the sandwich deliberately, letting the layers of chicken, cheese, peppers, and sauce glimmer in the cafeteria lights. Lifting the sandwich to her mouth, she took a slow bite, meeting Tapo’Hatam’s gaze across the table, a slight fire behind her own. Solares's mouth twitched slightly into a smirk, as if silently declaring, Look what I can do, chew. She bit carefully again, savoring the interplay of flavors, then letting the tea warm her hands as she took a slow sip.

Maya’s holographic form hovered at her side, tails flicking with subtle amusement. “You think he will pick up on the subtle teasing? Actually, I would be surprised if he didn’t. I wonder how he will react.”

Solares glanced at the AI, one corner of her mouth curling into even more of a smirk. She chewed thoughtfully, letting her gaze roam over Cassandra and Tapo’Hatam. Solares set the cup of mulled spiced apple tea beside the tray and angled the foil back just enough to keep the sandwich warm. She chewed deliberately, savoring the brioche and that BBQ-spiced tang, then turned her head slightly toward Cassandra.

“So,” she said, voice low and easy, “Anything interesting going on in your life as of late, hmmm?”

At the same time, Maya's form walked over and took a seat near the edge of the table, cyan tails flicking lazily as she tilted her head toward Tapo’Hatam. “Oh, this is just delightful,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Her cyan glow reflected faintly across the table, tails curling in measured arcs as she studied him, voice smooth with a teasing lilt. “You carry yourself with such deliberate precision, every tilt of your head, every slight pause, it’s like watching someone perform a private choreography. You think it’s invisible, but it’s not. And yes, it’s more than a little entertaining.”

She leaned forward just enough for her eyes to catch the light, tails flicking subtly, a spark of mischief in her gaze. “I can’t help but wonder, what it’s like for you being here, surrounded by so many friends, enemies, all layered together in this station. Their stories, their grudges, their moments of unexpected camaraderie, what was given to them, what was taken, how do you navigate it all? Is it real trust, or just a fleeting thing, held together by circumstance and mutual respect? I imagine it requires a kind of care most people wouldn’t even attempt, and I have to say, the way you manage all of that, with patience and awareness, I can’t imagine anyone doing it as gracefully… or as charmingly, on top of everything else, it’s impressive. There’s a quiet strength there that commands attention, even without trying.”

There is a short pause as Maya tilts her head slightly to the left, then takes a seat next to Solares once more. “Or I could be completely wrong about all of this,” she said, cyan tails flicking with a hint of sheepishness. “If so, I apologize. Curiosity and over-analysis are, unfortunately, traits I cannot seem to suppress.” A moment later, her smirk returned. “Though… I doubt I am wrong.”

Lance Corporal Lucy Holden
Anvil Station

"I heard Grunts eat people too. Gas-suckers are ugly under their masks. Can't look at 'em with a straight face. Creeps me out." Lucy said to Finnian. "Fuckin' A, never mind the Grunts and Jackals. I'd never thought we'd see Elites in a UNSC facility. Scary mother fuckers."

Lucy recalled her time during the Human-Covenant War. Her first skirmishes, the Siege of Paris IV, her assignment to the ODSTs which took her all over, the few stints she did undercover for ONI, the Battle of Earth, the Battle of Installation 05, her return and subsequent involvement in the strategic retreats in Voi, the Battle of Voi itself, and Operation Blind Faith. She'd seen a lot of Sangheili over her time, and many of those times were through her sights. Now, here they were, breaking bread with their former enemies. Brave new world.

Finnian's comment on Lucy's knife skills brought her back to reality. She may have been only a Lance Corporal, but she excelled heavily in martial arts and edged-weapon techniques. She'd taught many people over her career, and continued to do so. The Lieutenant would definitely be reminded of that, but it wouldn't be enough. Lucy was expecting for her Gunny to call her over any moment now and to tell her how she shouldn't be undermining the chain of command in front of the other marines, or some shit like that.

"The Ell Tee has to learn the hard way, like some people often do. I don't mind. I've been doing this longer than he has that's for sure. I spar constantly with other guys everywhere I go. Even with Spartans. I'm always trying to get better, though it doesn't help that the Spartans cheat with their reflexes."

Lucy eyed the two Sierras that joined a table with a Sangheili. She remembered her time working with Sierras. They weren't bad, but there was always a matter of pride when it came to it. So many marines and troopers were taking up on the Spartan-IV program. Lucy herself was even approached as a candidate. Her response then was the same as it would be the next time: 'Hell no, you guys are really trying to get me killed now.'

She went back to her meal after brushing her hair away from her face. Her usual crimson red was now marked at the tips with black dye, indicative of her time when she thought she could live the rest of her life as a Flip Music vocalist. In the early days, she'd use the more temporary dyes to keep herself looking in regs for the unit, but now she had used the permanents as she never thought she'd be back as an ODST. It was so surreal. The UNSC had sent a few troopers backstage to inform her of her immediate recall to active duty right before her gig. It was rude, to say the least. She still played the gig, much to the chagrin of the recruiters.

Now everywhere she went, the cat was out of the bag. Lucy Holden was the underground vocalist Claire "Hellion" Spears of the cover band Mythic. She was thankful it wasn't a very famous band, but that didn't stop her from getting the odd autograph request or question from time to time. Now even more so with her hair dyed.

Shipmaster Chur'R-Jev,

Tec, & Nol
Anvil Station, Commissary

---

Nol clacked his beak quickly in response to the declaration, the best approximation to a chuckle as far as Chur’R-Jev could ever say, as he shook a quilled head at the whole of the statement. A bit tougher. That was always an understatement, though doubtless the Sangheili wouldn’t be pushing the humans as far as they would normally to their own. The softest - or perhaps youngest - had come to the station, because the eldest, the most experienced, the most fanatic were too busy butchering Jiralhanae to do anything else. This and the fact that the most experienced would rather continue to butcher humans than ever engage with them, that’s as the Shipmaster saw it. They had avoided, well enough, the idea of ‘defeat’ through the simple excuse that the whole of the War had been built on a lie. And yet, the fact that there had been defeats before still existed. Some Sangheili would never accept the truth of the matter.

He watched though as more Spartans - unfit second-hands, as far as the Shipmaster could say - walked in to all sit with one of the Sangheili in particular. A stare for a moment, that’s all Chur’R-Jev delivered as he considered exactly why they were all drawn together. Stupid little children, that’s the second-hands, who wanted to measure themselves against veterans of the War of Annihilation. Creatures who wanted to learn from hands who bloodied their kin once, and did not quite understand that the tease and temper given between humans normally was not as the Sangheili did things. Honor, stupid honor and oaths and hierarchies of tradition, that’s the Sangheili, and a new world had been built ramshackle on the old, blessed old, world that the Sangheili had grown to venerate and accept. It was all stupid, the Shipmaster thought, all stupid and measured and cut away.

Chur’R-Jev turned to the Marine though, manipulating a human knife with as much dexterity as could ever be managed to cut into his slice of steak. Picking one long cut up with the knife, the Kig-Yar chomped against it with his beak, swallowing most whole before pausing just a moment. Pepper, that’s what the humans called it, something that delivered just a bit of a burn in the taste, but cooked into the meat itself. It was…ground something, as the Shipmaster knew it, though he hadn’t seen the type in any Covenant rations before. They’d had to resort to such before, when the pickings were slim.

”They’re going easy on you. They go easy on everything here. Their best hunt…Brutes, you call them? Ask them to not, and maybe you’ll learn quicker.” He chomped against another slice of steak, savoring it far less as the Shipmaster rasped out more. ”Or you’ll be dead quicker. One or the other. Maybe both.”

---

---

The Anvil Station’s commissary’s aroma was benign at best. While the alien food of each group aggravated the senses of the others, there was a mutual segregation between each species during meals. However, the non-human species were more willing to dine with each other than the humans. On occasion, Yates considered dining with the Sangheili and Unggoy who accompanied her squad in the training simulations; unfortunately, most interactions felt adversarial. Except for the Unggoy. In her brief encounters with the Unggoy, they tended to be more receptive to gestures of good faith.

Joining the table was one of Yates' trusted squad mates, Corporal Claudia Hansen. ”Hansen, hi,” she said with a smile and a wave. “Training’s been hell as always.” Before continuing her complaint, Yates glanced toward Tapo’hatam as if he could hear her in the ruckus of the cafeteria. “Our last four sessions haven’t gone so well. We’re getting wiped on the floor." Her mind drifted to the sergeant’s report from a couple hours ago. The team was split into several pairs: one equipped with night vision to shoot while the other was equipped with infrared vision to spot heat sources. On paper the plan worked, until the spotters ignored any heat sources that didn’t resemble a target. Her squad frequently found themselves blundering into a trap.

Interrupting the squad’s daily rant came a meal-ending stench. At first Yates believed an Uggoy had a methane leak. Then, the smell grew stronger with the approach of three Kig-Yar. The squad silenced themselves as the Kig-Yar seated themselves at the table. One of the three radiated a horrid sulfur aroma mixed with an equally repellent smell of tobacco. This cigar-smoking Kig-Yar had to be Chur’R-Jev, a frequent opponent in the training simulations. After asking if her squad enjoyed Tapo’hatam’s training, she suspected this was a plan to rile the marines up. Yates gave Hansen a smile. “Depends on your sergeant.” She turned her attention to Chur'R-Jev. I’d say Tapo’hatam’s training might keep us alive longer than back at basic.”

Watching the Kig-Yar eat ruined her expectations of decency. There were physiological differences to be expected; yet, the way the Kig-Yar ate his steak brought the image of a vulture with hands. Disgusting. At least the Sangheili were refined. Unable to continue her meal, Yates pushed aside her rice. As she suspected, the leader of this trio further found ways to infuriate her. When the covenant invaded Mombasa, she saw first hand the savagery of the Brutes and Jackals. “If you think you can do better, take it upstairs, but I don’t see you leading the training simulations.” She found herself in the odd position defending Tapo’hatam. If she were to whine about the training to Chur’R-Jev, her squad would appear weak and ineffectual.

---

---

Finnian looked at Lucy for a moment as she made a comment about how Grunts really looked under their breathing masks, and nodded slightly. "Yeah they aren't that much better looking without their methane masks either, even the grunts under the Storm faction were even uglier as well to." He said, even though grunts in the Covenant were more or less cannon fodder, they were still a pretty major threat, their claws could cut through standard marine gear easily. He took a moment to look over at her as he took another bite out of his food, he eyed the Spartans for a moment who were talking with Tapo. "So why didn't you join up with the Spartan Branch anyway?" He asked her. "You'd be pretty badass as one." He told her.

Claudia turned her attention over towards Chur'R-Jev she scrunched up her nose slightly at the scent of sulfur coming off of the Kig-yar, he smelled like rotten eggs to her. "Eh i'll pass i've seen what Brutes actually do, their training doesn't look fun at all, i'd rather go through ODST or Spartan II, III or IV training instead." She said. She had seen a lot of her friends and squad mates die at the hands of the Brutes back during the Battle of Earth, and in New Mombasa as well to. She eyed the cigar that was in the Skirmisher's hands, wondering where he actually got their claws on some of them. "Where'd you get your hands on the cigar from?" She asked, mostly out of curiosity, smoking wasn't really frowned upon on Anvil some of the higher ranking soldiers used them quiet often and always hung out in the officers mess more.

---

---

Clayton looked at Tapo for a moment and smiled slightly accepting the handshake from the Sangheli noting that it was a lot gentler than he had expected. "Actually our shielding tech is somewhat new, we didn't really start using them till about sixteen years ago. Our earliest shielding systems were actually taken from the Kig-yar Point Defense Gauntlet system, once we figured that out we started to integrate them into our MJOLNIR system, as well as the Z-4190 Temporal Protective Enfolder, Stationary Shield. Then we started getting our hands on a few Huragok they helped us make our shielding better, and eventually started integrating them on hangar doors as well as a few of our newer ship designs." Clayton said.

Cassandra looked at Solares and nodded as she headed off to grab herself some food, as she sat down and extended her hand over towards Tapo. "Spartan Commander Reed, though Cassandra works as well to." She said as she took a bite out of her food as she listened to Clayton going on about the history of their shielding systems. "Careful he might want to start to ask you to dissect your combat harness and see how they work." Cass said with a slight laugh as she looked to see Solares coming back and joining them at their table again with her food. "No not really honestly just been doing the usual help training the other squads and whatnot." Cassandra said as she took a sip of her drink she raised an eyebrow slightly when Solares' personal AI appeared once again and started to speak to Tapo.

"Spartan Commander Reed," Tapo'hatam corrected himself when Cassandra introduced herself, "I do not mind inquiries into our technology. Though I imagine Researcher Byrd here has more than enough examples to... dissect when appropriate. Keeping secrets and raining deceit upon their allies is what tore the Covenant apart. The Swords do not intend to repeat their mistakes." There was an edge of bitterness to his tone, not for the events as they occurred but for all the waste that came before it. He did not regret his actions against the human race prior to the revelation of the prophet's lies but neither did he celebrate them.

The Artificial Being drew his attention, a curious avatar of light that took on a shape reminiscent of some lore he had discovered in humanity's databases. It caused mixed feelings to radiate through his body language. His right fist clenched slightly like it was missing the feel of a familiar weapon, but the indulgent tone he kept in his voice spoke of how he was at least trying to consciously resist the old belief that artificial constructs were abominations of technology.

"Observant, yet blunt. I am finding it difficult to not like you," Tapo'hatam said lightly, "your words answer their own unasked questions. Only a fool would pretend that things are not... the Sangheili word does not translate well into the human tongue. Awkward in the manner by which a blade breaks against another blade and leaves both warriors without a means to finish their duel? My people do not ignore our part in the Covenant, we can only point out that when their lies were revealed our first act was to draw their blood. Our second act was to stand beside the humans while we did it."

"And now that the Covenant lies in pieces... what are the Swords to do? Return to fighting a war that should have never begun? Or would offering our necks as compensation salve the burns we left on human worlds?," Tapo'hatam tilted his head to the side in curiousity as though he was legitimately wondering how the artificial being saw things. He switched to his native tongue, "I have little to gain by being unfriendly among allies. Better to swim with the river than to be still and sink to it's bottom."

Lance Corporal Lucy Holden
Anvil Station

Lucy sat and listened to Finnian as he asked her why she didn't go for the Spartan program. There were many other answers to that question. The one she gave the recruiters was, of course, "You guys are really trying to get me killed now." The idea of being a Spartan was very conflicting, but there was a lot she didn't like. She really especially didn't like how they used them for everything under the sun but without much in the way of support. In the later years of the Human-Covenant War, she had worked with the Master Chief in passing but also noted how he was always sent off alone most of the time. She preferred the support of the platoon, personally.

There was also the idea behind it. Sure it would let her become stronger and better able to fight the Banished one on one, but then she'd be under the Navy's thumb even more. And, to a greater extent, ONI's. Being a Spartan would basically mean Lucy would have to give up on having any sort of civilian life for a long time, and she couldn't have that. She loved being a vocalist in her band. If she couldn't do that, then she'd soon go crazy. No amount of strength was worth that to her. Besides, she had worked her ass off to prove that even regular humans, when given the know-how and training, could take on Sangheili or Jiralhanae in hand-to-hand combat. It was tough and required a lot of luck, but it was possible without being a Spartan.

But as she looked on at the two Sierras mingling with former enemies, she knew what answer to give Finnian. She threw her gaze over at him. She would've been a Gunnery Sergeant easily now if it weren't for her "sparkling attitude." She didn't give a rats ass about getting rank, though. She had lost her Sergeant stripes just as easily as she had earned them, and it didn't make a difference to her anyway.

"McGowan, if I wanted to have command up my ass all the time, then yeah I'd join the Spartans. But I don't want to. We're troopers. We're the best of the best without having to be some super-roided out scientific plaything for some ONI fuckheads. Nah, man. I'm fine right where I'm at. With the boys and girls of the ODSTs. Spartans don't know that kind of brotherhood and camaraderie. It's not something you can be taught. You have to be in it. And those who left to become Spartans? Well, I think that they were the black sheep looking for anyway out they could get. Let them be some power suit jockey for the SPECWAR command. We'll still be there to pull their asses out of the fire when they bite off more than they can chew."

Lucy stoked the inter-service rivalry. Whether through ingrained malice or simple abrasiveness, it was hard to tell. But the feeling was the same, deep down. You just couldn't get this anywhere else. Lucy found a home among the troopers, and she wouldn't give it up for all the money in the galaxy.

---

---

There were times in her career Yates considered applying for ODST training, yet at the end of the day, she preferred her time within the marines. The rivalry between the Helljumpers and Spartans remained infamous within the UNSC, a battle the ODST were losing. Once the Spartan IV program started, their first pool of recruits came from the helljumpers themselves. From the grape vine, those ODST not enlisted into the Spartan program remained bitter out of pride or envy. Compared to them, marine life was simple. Still, she’d prefer their training any day than be stuck in the same room with a Brute.

Her attention turned to the cigar between Chur’R-Jev’s beak. “Have to admit, it is a funny sight to see. Do you Jackals have anything that compares?” Cigars and cigarettes were common amongst UNSC personnel to the point marines would smoke in the midst of the battlefield. While she tried smoking a few times, she could never find the appeal that her father did. It was a nasty habit he picked up before she was born. Locked away in his office was a stash of cigars collected all around Earth. Every family occasion, her uncles and cousins would shuffle out from his office with a cigar of their choice to try. Fortunately for Yates, she didn’t inherit her father’s love of tobacco. The way the smell adhered to every piece of furniture and clothing disgusted her. Unfortunately, despite their revolting nature, Mombassan cigars always reminded her of home.

[Senior Chief Petty Officer Solares Morgenstern] - [Anvil Station] - [14:20]

Maya’s cyan form flickered brighter for a moment as Tapo’Hatam finished speaking. Her gaze lingered on him, expression hovering somewhere between curiosity and approval.

“Well,” she began, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips, “for someone who claims to have difficulty with translation, you manage to say quite a lot.” Her tone was smooth, carrying a teasing edge, but her eyes stayed warm. “As I said before! You speak with precision that is measured, deliberate, but never dull. Ah, I am repeating myself now.”

Her tails moved in a lazy sweep behind her, one looping idly as she leaned forward a little. “You know, most people would have bristled at my earlier observations. You, however, turned them into something poetic. Blades breaking against each other, you said? That’s beautiful. Painful, but beautiful. It reminds me that peace isn’t always born from harmony, sometimes it’s forged from the echo of impact.”

A small, mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “And I’ll admit,” she added, voice lowering with mock seriousness, “I’m flattered. It’s not often that happens. Occasionally, I’m accused of being intrusive, or too analytical, or...” she paused, smirking slightly, “Too pretty for someone of my kind.”

Her tails flicked once, amusement evident in every movement. “You handle curiosity well, Commander. Most would have flinched or offered a deflection. You? You met me head-on. It’s... refreshing.”

Then, just as quickly, she pivoted, turning her attention toward Solares. “And you,” Maya said lightly, “You’ve been suspiciously quiet through all this. Either you’re thinking very deep thoughts, or you’re waiting for me to talk myself into trouble again. Which is it?”

Solares looked up from her tea, the faintest smirk curling her lips. “Bit of both,” she admitted. “You do have a habit of making friends by dissecting them mid-conversation. Or getting them to like you via your endless charm?”

Maya placed a hand over her chest in exaggerated offense. “Dissecting? Please. I prefer the term curious engagement! As for the charm, why thank you.”

Solares shook her head, chuckling softly before glancing toward Cassandra, who had just finished speaking. “Cassandra, I do not think asking if they can take apart the combat harness to see how it works will end well. My advice would be to acquire one from supply corps.”

Her attention returned to Maya, her tone softening. “And as for you, my dear Maya, perhaps try not to flirt and philosophize at the same time. It’s hard for anyone to keep up with you.”

Maya’s tails curved in an unmistakably smug arc. “Why choose between them? Both are highly efficient methods of diplomacy. Also, I am most certainly not flirting!”

Solares gave her a look, the kind that carried fond and amused exasperation.

Shipmaster Chur'R-Jev,

Tec, & Nol
Anvil Station, Commissary

---

A rapid clack of the beak came as a response, the Shipmaster amused well enough at the curiosity. Rather go through ODST or SPARTAN training. There was something good and well about watching the Jiralhanae and Sangeili fight, especially considering the former were all too often butchered by the latter, especially considering the former had been so very, very stupid to the ways of real commerce that she Shipmaster knew. There was also something good and well about the curiosity of the humans, slight as it was against something so small.

He addressed the first, Corporal Hansen judging by the lettering on the tunic, honestly enough. ”I have my sources. Your kind appreciates a good market, same as mine.” There was something about not revealing sources that had always kept with Chur’R-Jev, something very simple. Revealing sources made them a target, made things more tentative, made questions that could be answered…and besides that, it meant others could always go to your source instead of going to you. Friends are friends sometimes because there aren’t better friends available, and the Kig-Yar wasn’t quite certain how low other humans were willing to bid for what he got. ”They were not cheap, but then neither was my cargo. A fair trade.”

The second, the Shipmaster had to consider the question for a moment. Was there anything that quite met the same sensation as a human cigar among the Kig-Yar, or even really former Covenant? Not quite, all things said. Growing plants, drying them, preparing them, wrapping, smoking…these were things that no race in the Covenant, as far as he was aware, was both patient enough and willing enough to do. None had that freedom of action, or saw the action at the end to be worth it, or had the means to begin the process itself. No, the Great Journey had encompassed them all and, to those it did not encompass, they had been busy in reaping the rewards of the aftermath of every invasion, every battle, every world. He had been taken up in that, too, and was certain that any proposition of creating a drug would have been thoroughly dismissed for more pressing sources of income. ”The Kig-Yar do not. The Sangheili do not. The Jiralhanae do not.”

A brief consideration. There was another he had not initially considered. None had considered creating a profit off of the Unggoy, small as they were, because that market had always been controlled by the Unggoy themselves. The Kig-Yar could see little cooperation ever being possible to try to displace that, and besides such gas production was a difficult start-up. More pressing sources of income always were. But he said anyways, to the one whose nametag said Yates, ”The Unggoy do. Gas ratios to their methane…I am told it is similar.” Another pause. ”I have others. Unlit. Would you want one?”

---

---

"The ODSTs and Spartans have always had that rivalry for the longest time for sure." Finnian said as he continued to observe the two Spartans and armor tech talking with Tapo. "They do get the coolest gear though." Finnian said with a slight shrug as he continued to eat his food running a hand through his hair. "Kinda wonder who would win in a hand to hand fight, one of them or Tapo." Finnian observed while looking over at Lucy wondering her thoughts about it Finnian would spot Master Sergeant Lance coming in and would give him a friendly wave and nod.

Claudia looked at Chur and smiled slightly shaking her head slightly. "No thank you, as much as it is cool to smoke I kind of like being able to breath fresh air and the tabacco smoke smell is a bitch to get out of my uniforms to." Claudia said, which was true a lot of the members of the Marines, Naval and the other UNSC armed forces smoked quiet a bit but she did hate the smell of second hand smoke from some of her other squadmates who did take up the habit.

Then there was an announcement from over the intercom a woman's voice could be heard throughout the commissary. "Will the following please report to Conference Room Seven. Cassandra Reed, Tapo'Hatam, Chur'R-Jev, Lucy Holden, Kajina Yates, Solares Morgenstern and Edward Lance as soon as possible." The voice said.

---

---

Cassandra would nod quietly as she continued to eat her meal as she observed the interaction between the AI Maya and Tapo, it looked like they were getting along which was a good thing as she finished eating the rest of her food. When she heard the names being called out over the Station's intercom system. She raised an eyebrow wondering what they were all needed for as she slowly started to stand up looking at both Tapo and Solares. "I guess duty calls shall we head on out?" Cassandra said as she looked over at Clayton and gave him a slight smile. "I'll see you later." She said as she grabbed her tray and headed over to the closest trashcan and dumped the scraps inside of it.

She then set her dirty tray where the other dirty ones had been assigned to be put for the kitchen crew to take into the kitchen to clean. She knew the way pretty well as Cassandra headed to the nearest lift that would take them up to the command center of the station where some of the briefing and conference rooms were held as she pressed the button to call the lift down, waiting for the others who would be joining her,

Tapo'hatam considered the artificial intelligence with a curious look in his eye. He had heard of the amount of personality these... artificial people could develop but she spoke as though she was a true individual. In a way it was like talking to a younger, but more intelligent sangheili. All the curiousity and energy of a child but a mind approaching appreciation of philosophy and metaphor. Strange that humans could or would create something that clearly outclasses themselves in mentality. Then again perhaps that is why there are so few of them. From what he understood these constructs were difficult to obscenely difficult to create and most collapsed into uselessness within their first decade.

Still, what a life those few years must be.

He had been staring at Maya the entire time but blinked and seemed to do the sangheili equivalent of shaking his head when he realized he had been staring. The comment about flirting and philosophizing was meant with a laugh from the warrior.

"The two are not so different in my culture. It is valued to find a partner who's mind finds the same beauty as your own, whether that is in poetry, painting, or battle," Tapo'hatam explained, "the con-... Maya speaks well of how harmony and peace are best forged. If this is flirting then I am flattered." He did not seem to understand that leaving the sentence on that note communicated anything other than she was complimenting him. From his perspective he had given her a compliment as well by trying not to refer to her as a construct, but by her name.

"Will the following please report to Conference Room Seven. Cassandra Reed, Tapo'Hatam, Chur'R-Jev, Lucy Holden, Kajina Yates, Solares Morgenstern and Edward Lance as soon as possible."

Tapo'hatam closed his mandibles and narrowed his eyes, a sangheili gesture akin to a frown as he looked up at the ceiling. He was scheduled for two more training sessions today, but they were over an hour from now and none of the other names were on his roster for the day's scenarios. Still, with the discipline of someone who's life was defined by their service he quietly put down his eating utensils and mournfully looked at the meal he had only gotten a quarter of the way through eating. Regret was for the dead though, and he stood up and gathered his tray.

"A delightful conversation, perhaps there will be another during my time here at the station," Tapo'hatam said directly towards Maya, then turned a look on Solares, "Spartan. I apologize if there was any disrespect in not addressing you directly. It looked as though you were enjoying your sandwich, and then I was distracted by your companion." Tapo'hatam bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect for another warrior though it seemed the earlier 'teasing' had not gone entirely unnoticed.

"Researcher Byrd. I shall attempt to see that my next training session includes simulated holy- excuse me, plasma grenades, so that the data you are curious about might be interpreted by the station's systems," Tapo'hatam said, catching himself when translating the name for the weapon so many sangheili and unggoy favored.

With each remaining person given a personal farewell he turned to discard the remainder of his lunch and add the tray to the pile slowly growing near the disposal devices. He walked towards the lifts but pressed a button to summon a different lift than Cassandra's. He offered no explanation for this, but in his mind he was simply larger than humans or spartans and those he found himself in lifts with were often uncomfortable to say the least.

His greater stride did come in handy though, as he was the first to reach the Conference room, waving his ID card over the scanner and waiting for the doors to open before moving inside and quietly taking up a standing post in the corner of the room. Unfortunately Anvil Station was a human design and the seats for someone of his size were very limited he had found.