ALWAYS OPEN [IC] Halo - Empty Throne: The Eastern Covenant Sphere

[Apothecary Bruce]

On December 12th, 2559, the UNSC Infinity disappeared. They had been sent to stop Cortana, leader of the Created, from using Zeta Halo for her own nefarious purposes. As many would later discover, the UNSC was not the only force who had come to Zeta Halo with that goal.
The Banished, who had thrived under Cortana's iron yet loose regime, had sent an invasion force. After contact, no signal was sent from the Infinity. All probes and scouts, from all sides, who went to the Ephu system - Zeta Halo's prior location - found the installation, and the fleets attacking it, had suddenly vanished. Only trace wreckage from the Infinity, Banished warships, and a Forerunner Guardian construct, remained.

For the UNSC, they had lost the Master Chief, and their strongest warship. Both were symbols of humanity's strength and resolve, the hero who had saved them, and the flagship emblematic of their post-war successes, an era which was now undoubtably over.
For the Banished, they had lost not only Atriox, but Escharum too. With the other senior leaders of the Banished trapped at the Ark, the nascent empire had been left without a central commander, but while the cracks could be seen visibly forming, the Banished were more than content feasting upon a ripe galaxy.

Whatever happened at Zeta Halo, it had been the end of Cortana. Her Created empire immediately fractured, breaking down into warlord states as AI carved out what they could of the galaxy, using what Forerunner assets remained active and available to them.
With the fall of the Created, came the return of interstellar travel. The galaxy was open once more - for better, or for worse.

It is January 12th, 2560, and all throughout the galaxy now see the future is uncertain. While some cower from uncertainty, the bold see it as an opportunity - and the prize would be total dominion over all civilizations remaining.

---

Regions of the Galaxy:
Human Inner Colonies and Sol (UNSC/Created)
Human Outer Colonies (URF/Banished/Created)
Doisac Sphere (Banished)
Eastern Covenant Sphere (Banished/Covenant Remnants/Swords of Sanghelios)
Sanghelios Sphere (Swords of Sanghelios/Covenant Remnants/Banished)
Western Covenant Sphere (Covenant Remnants/Swords of Sanghelios/Banished)
​

---

What is the Eastern Covenant Sphere?
Outside the Sanghelios Sphere, more divergent regions of the empire began to take shape, as was natural with frontier settlements. Continuously, the empire grew and grew, for thousands of years. Along the way, they found many species of note, plenty newfound colonies won the lotteries of strategic importance, and historical shifts in the Covenant Empire defined entire regions and their history.

As opposed to the West's more chaotic and diverse nature, the Eastern Covenant Empire could always be relied upon for reliability, though confusing that for safety could be at times a very lethal mistake. Entire swaths of the Orion Arm belonged to a delicate balance of sangheili houses and families, all pushing for harder and faster expansion, so that they may lay claim to more territory and fatten up their titles and boasts. All of the resulting riches and resources went into developing house militaries, ministerial development, shipyards and war machines.

In the end, these time bombs would go off from time to time. Resource wars, grudge wars, holy wars - all these and more have set the Eastern Covenant Sphere alight on more than one occasion. The West would have you believe the Eastern Covenant Sphere did not wage wars as they did, because the foolish sangheili traditionalists did not have the same heart or minds for the modern war, still stuck in their history scrolls, believing themselves to be the great kaidons of early Sanghelios.

The East would have you believe the Eastern Covenant Sphere did not wage wars like the West, because the West was too faithless and poor to conduct conflict on the same level. While western squabbles were brutal, quick, yet ultimately small in scope, the East's wars stretched across sectors, affecting even the Sanghelios Sphere at times.

Beyond these 'honorable conflicts', the East's other claims to fame were it being the home of the yanme'e, known to humans as Drones. They were insect-like creatures, in many ways. They also doubled as great engineers. Curiously, Cortana did not bring her Created to pacify Palamok, or any yanme'e world, leaving them to grow and develop unabated. The reasons for this have been debated since the declaration of Reclamation was given, even amongst her highest ranks - but now, all in the East fear and prepare for the likely invasion of the resurgent and industrious yanme'e.

There's also the yonhet, at the appropriately named planet of Yonhe. They don't get around much, though.



The Eastern Covenant Sphere is the last region of the Orion Arm resembling the old Covenant. It is also the home of the Yanme'e Hives, and several other Covenant Fringe species, who have been strangely quiet since even before Cortana's rise to power.

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

JANUARY 12th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies

@CT2222

The UNSC Boomer had spent the better half of a year traveling eastward, pushed out of human space at the height of the Created Crisis, and slowly chased throughout the galaxy, catching the attention of Acolyte-class harrier vessels, and losing them in increasingly creative ways as the human heavy cruiser was slowly chipped away at.
Now, on the far end of everything, the Marathon-class starship finds itself entering a new system, seemingly uninhabited - save for a single signal, a beacon which had lured the Boomer here for the past month.

The crew of the Boomer had seen nothing but ex-Covenant for a year now, without a hint of other humans around. There had been births aboard the ship, and the only faces the newborns had seen were crewmates. There had been ethical deliberations about the Boomer becoming a generational ship, rumors Captain Eris Lapham had crushed quickly, but Leela had been prepping pre-school and kindergarden courses just in case. She had already had to play teacher for the onboard civvie children.

The Boomer was the closest thing to human civilization in Covenant space, without the hint of a human being for entire sectors at a time...yet, now, they had not only found a human distress beacon - it had identified as Koslovic.

'...this is commander Rowan McDowell, of the Koslovic Independent Union frigate Tears of Ganymede. Someone, please help us...'

Of course, the ONI personnel onboard the Boomer had checked their records, but there was no such thing as a Koslovic Independent Union, or a ship registered as Tears of Ganymede. It could be an elaborate ruse, but if it was genuine, it could change everything.
The Boomer was now in the star system. It contained a blue star, three gas giants, four lifeless terrestrial planets, but one with a perfectly habitable atmosphere - and that was the one where the beacon had been set up.

Now, it was time to investigate. How, would be up to the captain and their advisors.

 

[CT2222]

JANUARY 12th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies

@CT2222

The UNSC Boomer had spent the better half of a year traveling eastward, pushed out of human space at the height of the Created Crisis, and slowly chased throughout the galaxy, catching the attention of Acolyte-class harrier vessels, and losing them in increasingly creative ways as the human heavy cruiser was slowly chipped away at.
Now, on the far end of everything, the Marathon-class starship finds itself entering a new system, seemingly uninhabited - save for a single signal, a beacon which had lured the Boomer here for the past month.

The crew of the Boomer had seen nothing but ex-Covenant for a year now, without a hint of other humans around. There had been births aboard the ship, and the only faces the newborns had seen were crewmates. There had been ethical deliberations about the Boomer becoming a generational ship, rumors Captain Eris Lapham had crushed quickly, but Leela had been prepping pre-school and kindergarden courses just in case. She had already had to play teacher for the onboard civvie children.

The Boomer was the closest thing to human civilization in Covenant space, without the hint of a human being for entire sectors at a time...yet, now, they had not only found a human distress beacon - it had identified as Koslovic.

'...this is commander Rowan McDowell, of the Koslovic Independent Union frigate Tears of Ganymede. Someone, please help us...'

Of course, the ONI personnel onboard the Boomer had checked their records, but there was no such thing as a Koslovic Independent Union, or a ship registered as Tears of Ganymede. It could be an elaborate ruse, but if it was genuine, it could change everything.
The Boomer was now in the star system. It contained a blue star, three gas giants, four lifeless terrestrial planets, but one with a perfectly habitable atmosphere - and that was the one where the beacon had been set up.

Now, it was time to investigate. How, would be up to the captain and their advisors.

Worst Space-Bus Ride Ever!
---​

Captain Eris Lapham, of the UNSC Navy, sat in her command chair, staring through the bridge's viewport into the expanse of the void. Their current course and orientation had them moving through the system, slightly off-axis from their sun, which burned a hard orange through the viewport. She checked her displays, checking on the orbital trajectory of that habitable planet as her ship moved ever-closer, and realized that if she squinted hard she might be able to see it on the backdrop of its star.

Captain Eris Lapham, of course, did not do this; she had more important things to do. "XO, what's the situation with those probes?" Her executive officer, Commander Victor Campbell, looked up. He was not as experienced as she was, only having been commissioned as an officer in 2553, but he was a hard worker, high-performing at the academy, and had adapted well to service aboard this cursed ship.

He grimaced "Not looking good, Captain. Our stores of probes are almost out, and the ones we have left are so scrambled from plasma burns that they're nigh-useless." A brief pinging noise alerted both of them to an incoming message from the ship's AI, Leela, which scrolled on their displays. <Additionally, even our active sensor scans cannot provide us with the detail we need. Not unless we get much, much closer.>

As part of the compromises of her design, Leela was unable to project an avatar like others of her kind. On top of that, damage taken from Created cyberattacks had gotten into her library speech files and turned them into a tangled mess. The last time Leela had attempted to "speak", four crewmen had been sent to the infirmary, their ears bleeding. Now, Leela had to rely on text or non-verbal noises to convey information.

The Captain considered this information for a moment, then sighed, rubbing tired, sleep-deprived eyes. "I suppose it can't be helped. Campbell, tell Colonel Jackson I need a ground team prepped and ready in two hours. Four Pelicans, we need a team to take point on figuring out what the hell is going on. Send the Spartans and Booker, too, they'll need a good escort. Tell them they need to figure out what's going on, and that it may be our ticket back home."

---​

Four Pelicans spewed from the Boomer an hour later, loaded to the brim with personnel, guns, and supplies for the expedition. Aboard the lead Pelican, Master Sergeant Booker stood, clutching her assault rifle in one hand as she grasped one of the Pelican's handholds. "Alright, Marines, listen up!" She said, broadcasting to the whole force. "Command has detected some strange signals coming from some beacon or whatsit planetside. Our job is to get down there and poke around a bit to find out what it is and who's broadcasting. Don't play heroes, keep your heads down, and let the scientists do the touching. You break it, you buy it. You hear me, Marines?"

One could almost imagine the resulting Oo-Rah being heard in the vacuum of space.
Booker grunted approvingly. "That's what I want to hear, Marines! Alright, buckle in, it's gonna get bumpy out there…"
She sat down and refastened her safety harness, locking in for the difficult flight down. Aboard with her were nine others, not counting their pilots; the members of the elite "Theta-Four" unit, ONI's Commander Durand and Lieutenant McKesson, and UEG science attache Jennifer "Jinni" Cortez. She smiled at the woman to her left, Theta-Four's NCO, although because of their helmets neither could see it. "You ready for a fun one, Gunny?" She asked, on a personal channel.

"Don't get me started, Top." She replied, looking over. "You know I hate dropship ops." The younger woman had confessed as such during the two's first ever meeting, on the last ride up from New Grove ops. The Master Sergeant grinned again. This was going to be a fun one.

---​

The descent through the atmosphere was a bumpy one, bumpy enough that the huge Pelicans were jostled as they descended. The atmosphere was thick as soup, murky and cloudy, and hitting it caused a jolt to run through the spines of all aboard. After they had transitioned into atmosphere, Senior Chief Petty Officer Benjamin decided he needed a better view. He released his restraints and stood up, mag-clamping to the deck. If it wasn't for the need for the Pelicans to have full crews for both delivery and pick-up, he'd have insisted he fly the mission himself. He was more comfortable among the clouds than almost any in the Boomer's crew, and his reaction times were the best even among those few. Alas, he was needed for the ground operation.

He and his team were ensconced in the rearmost Pelican, alongside a particular annoying ONI scientist named Howell and a team of four ODSTs. His team leader quirked her head towards him as he moved towards the cockpit, her gesture clearly questioning. "Where might you be going?"

"In-flight meal didn't agree with me. Going to tell the pilots that I'll be lodging a complaint with the spaceline." He said dryly.

She snorted. Alexis-G081, or most Spartans for that matter, were not the most jovial types, but they appreciated the occasional levity. "Alright then, go ahead. Tell me if you see anything interesting."

He nodded, and opened the door to the cockpit. The co-pilot looked back at him for a second before returning his view forward. "Chief." He said, nodding. "We're coming out of the worst of it now, and circling near to the landing zone. We'll actually pass by the beacon site, if you want to take a look."

Ben surmised that would be a difficult endeavor. Beyond the cockpit's glass, he saw nothing but dark fog. The pilots were navigating almost entirely based off instruments; visibility was near zero. However, for just a fraction of a second, no time at all for a normal human and barely much for a Spartan, he saw… something. It looked like a fragment of a ship, jutting upward, a design that seemed at once alien to the UNSC and yet profoundly human. For some reason, he felt a slight shudder come over him. "I… better get ready for the drop." He said, closing the door. He had no idea what was coming, but whatever it was seemed… ominous.

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

Worst Space-Bus Ride Ever!
---​

Captain Eris Lapham, of the UNSC Navy, sat in her command chair, staring through the bridge's viewport into the expanse of the void. Their current course and orientation had them moving through the system, slightly off-axis from their sun, which burned a hard orange through the viewport. She checked her displays, checking on the orbital trajectory of that habitable planet as her ship moved ever-closer, and realized that if she squinted hard she might be able to see it on the backdrop of its star.

Captain Eris Lapham, of course, did not do this; she had more important things to do. "XO, what's the situation with those probes?" Her executive officer, Commander Victor Campbell, looked up. He was not as experienced as she was, only having been commissioned as an officer in 2553, but he was a hard worker, high-performing at the academy, and had adapted well to service aboard this cursed ship.

He grimaced "Not looking good, Captain. Our stores of probes are almost out, and the ones we have left are so scrambled from plasma burns that they're nigh-useless." A brief pinging noise alerted both of them to an incoming message from the ship's AI, Leela, which scrolled on their displays. <Additionally, even our active sensor scans cannot provide us with the detail we need. Not unless we get much, much closer.>

As part of the compromises of her design, Leela was unable to project an avatar like others of her kind. On top of that, damage taken from Created cyberattacks had gotten into her library speech files and turned them into a tangled mess. The last time Leela had attempted to "speak", four crewmen had been sent to the infirmary, their ears bleeding. Now, Leela had to rely on text or non-verbal noises to convey information.

The Captain considered this information for a moment, then sighed, rubbing tired, sleep-deprived eyes. "I suppose it can't be helped. Campbell, tell Colonel Jackson I need a ground team prepped and ready in two hours. Four Pelicans, we need a team to take point on figuring out what the hell is going on. Send the Spartans and Booker, too, they'll need a good escort. Tell them they need to figure out what's going on, and that it may be our ticket back home."

---​

Four Pelicans spewed from the Boomer an hour later, loaded to the brim with personnel, guns, and supplies for the expedition. Aboard the lead Pelican, Master Sergeant Booker stood, clutching her assault rifle in one hand as she grasped one of the Pelican's handholds. "Alright, Marines, listen up!" She said, broadcasting to the whole force. "Command has detected some strange signals coming from some beacon or whatsit planetside. Our job is to get down there and poke around a bit to find out what it is and who's broadcasting. Don't play heroes, keep your heads down, and let the scientists do the touching. You break it, you buy it. You hear me, Marines?"

One could almost imagine the resulting Oo-Rah being heard in the vacuum of space.
Booker grunted approvingly. "That's what I want to hear, Marines! Alright, buckle in, it's gonna get bumpy out there…"
She sat down and refastened her safety harness, locking in for the difficult flight down. Aboard with her were nine others, not counting their pilots; the members of the elite "Theta-Four" unit, ONI's Commander Durand and Lieutenant McKesson, and UEG science attache Jennifer "Jinni" Cortez. She smiled at the woman to her left, Theta-Four's NCO, although because of their helmets neither could see it. "You ready for a fun one, Gunny?" She asked, on a personal channel.

"Don't get me started, Top." She replied, looking over. "You know I hate dropship ops." The younger woman had confessed as such during the two's first ever meeting, on the last ride up from New Grove ops. The Master Sergeant grinned again. This was going to be a fun one.

---​

The descent through the atmosphere was a bumpy one, bumpy enough that the huge Pelicans were jostled as they descended. The atmosphere was thick as soup, murky and cloudy, and hitting it caused a jolt to run through the spines of all aboard. After they had transitioned into atmosphere, Senior Chief Petty Officer Benjamin decided he needed a better view. He released his restraints and stood up, mag-clamping to the deck. If it wasn't for the need for the Pelicans to have full crews for both delivery and pick-up, he'd have insisted he fly the mission himself. He was more comfortable among the clouds than almost any in the Boomer's crew, and his reaction times were the best even among those few. Alas, he was needed for the ground operation.

He and his team were ensconced in the rearmost Pelican, alongside a particular annoying ONI scientist named Howell and a team of four ODSTs. His team leader quirked her head towards him as he moved towards the cockpit, her gesture clearly questioning. "Where might you be going?"

"In-flight meal didn't agree with me. Going to tell the pilots that I'll be lodging a complaint with the spaceline." He said dryly.

She snorted. Alexis-G081, or most Spartans for that matter, were not the most jovial types, but they appreciated the occasional levity. "Alright then, go ahead. Tell me if you see anything interesting."

He nodded, and opened the door to the cockpit. The co-pilot looked back at him for a second before returning his view forward. "Chief." He said, nodding. "We're coming out of the worst of it now, and circling near to the landing zone. We'll actually pass by the beacon site, if you want to take a look."

Ben surmised that would be a difficult endeavor. Beyond the cockpit's glass, he saw nothing but dark fog. The pilots were navigating almost entirely based off instruments; visibility was near zero. However, for just a fraction of a second, no time at all for a normal human and barely much for a Spartan, he saw… something. It looked like a fragment of a ship, jutting upward, a design that seemed at once alien to the UNSC and yet profoundly human. For some reason, he felt a slight shudder come over him. "I… better get ready for the drop." He said, closing the door. He had no idea what was coming, but whatever it was seemed… ominous.

The Pelicans rumbled through the inky sky, dark raining clouds jostling them about, cracks of lightning and thunder heralding their arrival. Yet, despite all the noise and wrath of nature outside, it was eerily quiet. Tension gripped everyone onboard as they either tried to ignore the likely nightmare awaiting them, or their minds wrestled with what the presence of this ship meant.

The wreck was warped and burnt, from either re-entry, or energy weapons. Given the visible sturdiness and thickness of the metal on display, it was likely the latter.
The Boomer's ground team marched out of their Pelican dropships, eager to investigate the wreck.

There were two large, 'main' entrances, though it would be very easy to find another hole to climb through. The aft had a large tear, like something had bore through the hull without care for its armor plating. The ship's six decks were all exposed, but even at a slight angle, the ship could only be entered from the ground floor, unless someone brought a grapple hook, or some other method of traversing upwards.
The second was the open hangar bay. Most of the lights were dead, but a few near the back still flickered with whatever power remained within the battered starship.

On the side of the vessel read, KIU Tears of Ganymede. The signal was not a lie, the design looked firmly rooted in human origin but utterly different than anything built in human space. For better or for worse, this was real, and it was the ground team's job to investigate.

 

[CT2222]

Worst Space-Bus Ride Ever!
---​

Captain Eris Lapham, of the UNSC Navy, sat in her command chair, staring through the bridge's viewport into the expanse of the void. Their current course and orientation had them moving through the system, slightly off-axis from their sun, which burned a hard orange through the viewport. She checked her displays, checking on the orbital trajectory of that habitable planet as her ship moved ever-closer, and realized that if she squinted hard she might be able to see it on the backdrop of its star.

Captain Eris Lapham, of course, did not do this; she had more important things to do. "XO, what's the situation with those probes?" Her executive officer, Commander Victor Campbell, looked up. He was not as experienced as she was, only having been commissioned as an officer in 2553, but he was a hard worker, high-performing at the academy, and had adapted well to service aboard this cursed ship.

He grimaced "Not looking good, Captain. Our stores of probes are almost out, and the ones we have left are so scrambled from plasma burns that they're nigh-useless." A brief pinging noise alerted both of them to an incoming message from the ship's AI, Leela, which scrolled on their displays. <Additionally, even our active sensor scans cannot provide us with the detail we need. Not unless we get much, much closer.>

As part of the compromises of her design, Leela was unable to project an avatar like others of her kind. On top of that, damage taken from Created cyberattacks had gotten into her library speech files and turned them into a tangled mess. The last time Leela had attempted to "speak", four crewmen had been sent to the infirmary, their ears bleeding. Now, Leela had to rely on text or non-verbal noises to convey information.

The Captain considered this information for a moment, then sighed, rubbing tired, sleep-deprived eyes. "I suppose it can't be helped. Campbell, tell Colonel Jackson I need a ground team prepped and ready in two hours. Four Pelicans, we need a team to take point on figuring out what the hell is going on. Send the Spartans and Booker, too, they'll need a good escort. Tell them they need to figure out what's going on, and that it may be our ticket back home."

---​

Four Pelicans spewed from the Boomer an hour later, loaded to the brim with personnel, guns, and supplies for the expedition. Aboard the lead Pelican, Master Sergeant Booker stood, clutching her assault rifle in one hand as she grasped one of the Pelican's handholds. "Alright, Marines, listen up!" She said, broadcasting to the whole force. "Command has detected some strange signals coming from some beacon or whatsit planetside. Our job is to get down there and poke around a bit to find out what it is and who's broadcasting. Don't play heroes, keep your heads down, and let the scientists do the touching. You break it, you buy it. You hear me, Marines?"

One could almost imagine the resulting Oo-Rah being heard in the vacuum of space.
Booker grunted approvingly. "That's what I want to hear, Marines! Alright, buckle in, it's gonna get bumpy out there…"
She sat down and refastened her safety harness, locking in for the difficult flight down. Aboard with her were nine others, not counting their pilots; the members of the elite "Theta-Four" unit, ONI's Commander Durand and Lieutenant McKesson, and UEG science attache Jennifer "Jinni" Cortez. She smiled at the woman to her left, Theta-Four's NCO, although because of their helmets neither could see it. "You ready for a fun one, Gunny?" She asked, on a personal channel.

"Don't get me started, Top." She replied, looking over. "You know I hate dropship ops." The younger woman had confessed as such during the two's first ever meeting, on the last ride up from New Grove ops. The Master Sergeant grinned again. This was going to be a fun one.

---​

The descent through the atmosphere was a bumpy one, bumpy enough that the huge Pelicans were jostled as they descended. The atmosphere was thick as soup, murky and cloudy, and hitting it caused a jolt to run through the spines of all aboard. After they had transitioned into atmosphere, Senior Chief Petty Officer Benjamin decided he needed a better view. He released his restraints and stood up, mag-clamping to the deck. If it wasn't for the need for the Pelicans to have full crews for both delivery and pick-up, he'd have insisted he fly the mission himself. He was more comfortable among the clouds than almost any in the Boomer's crew, and his reaction times were the best even among those few. Alas, he was needed for the ground operation.

He and his team were ensconced in the rearmost Pelican, alongside a particular annoying ONI scientist named Howell and a team of four ODSTs. His team leader quirked her head towards him as he moved towards the cockpit, her gesture clearly questioning. "Where might you be going?"

"In-flight meal didn't agree with me. Going to tell the pilots that I'll be lodging a complaint with the spaceline." He said dryly.

She snorted. Alexis-G081, or most Spartans for that matter, were not the most jovial types, but they appreciated the occasional levity. "Alright then, go ahead. Tell me if you see anything interesting."

He nodded, and opened the door to the cockpit. The co-pilot looked back at him for a second before returning his view forward. "Chief." He said, nodding. "We're coming out of the worst of it now, and circling near to the landing zone. We'll actually pass by the beacon site, if you want to take a look."

Ben surmised that would be a difficult endeavor. Beyond the cockpit's glass, he saw nothing but dark fog. The pilots were navigating almost entirely based off instruments; visibility was near zero. However, for just a fraction of a second, no time at all for a normal human and barely much for a Spartan, he saw… something. It looked like a fragment of a ship, jutting upward, a design that seemed at once alien to the UNSC and yet profoundly human. For some reason, he felt a slight shudder come over him. "I… better get ready for the drop." He said, closing the door. He had no idea what was coming, but whatever it was seemed… ominous.

The Pelicans rumbled through the inky sky, dark raining clouds jostling them about, cracks of lightning and thunder heralding their arrival. Yet, despite all the noise and wrath of nature outside, it was eerily quiet. Tension gripped everyone onboard as they either tried to ignore the likely nightmare awaiting them, or their minds wrestled with what the presence of this ship meant.

The wreck was warped and burnt, from either re-entry, or energy weapons. Given the visible sturdiness and thickness of the metal on display, it was likely the latter.
The Boomer's ground team marched out of their Pelican dropships, eager to investigate the wreck.

There were two large, 'main' entrances, though it would be very easy to find another hole to climb through. The aft had a large tear, like something had bore through the hull without care for its armor plating. The ship's six decks were all exposed, but even at a slight angle, the ship could only be entered from the ground floor, unless someone brought a grapple hook, or some other method of traversing upwards.
The second was the open hangar bay. Most of the lights were dead, but a few near the back still flickered with whatever power remained within the battered starship.

On the side of the vessel read, KIU Tears of Ganymede. The signal was not a lie, the design looked firmly rooted in human origin but utterly different than anything built in human space. For better or for worse, this was real, and it was the ground team's job to investigate.

Buyer Beware…
---​

"Go go go!" Booker shouted, as she and her team vacated the dropship. "Clear the takeoff radius!" She rushed out, rifle raised and sweeping, covering her area as she knew her men were doing. The Pelicans were back in the air in moments, returning up to Boomer's safety. After a moment, she stood up, making a hand gesture. "Alright Marines, we're in the clear! Let's get ready to move!"

She gestured to the the team leaders, to form up on her. "Alright, people, here's the plan. Echo-7, you and Charlie Squad will take ONI agent Howell up that hole in the rear of the ship. Dog Squad, you'll be covering our egress. The rest of you are with me, we'll be going in the hangar. Keep strict trigger discipline: we've got no idea what's in there. Now, let's get moving!"

She assembled with her group. Spearhead, Theta-4, CDR Durand and LT McKesson, and finally, Cortez, who waved at her cheerily. All in all, she reckoned, not the worst team to go into a hostile environment with. "Alright team, keep it close and keep ready. We've got no idea what's going on in there, and this strange ship gives me a bad feeling… SPARTANs, you lead the way."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Bizarre. There were few other, better words for it.

Lieutenant Lovelle McKesson leaned her head to peer out of the open bay of the Pelican for her first look at the derelict that had been putting out distress signals ad nauseum to the Boomer since they'd been in range. While she was aware most would feel the shiver up their spine of ghost stories and horror movies, she only felt intrigue and excitement, a cold and singing focus on the conundrum before her. She fully ignored the turbulent ride in the Pelican, blood high in her ears as she finally saw the KIU Tears of Ganymede.

A ship, that shouldn't exist. Didn't exist.

Immediately, the shape stood out to her as being foreign. Obviously human - it did not bear the swooping curves of Covenant engineering, nor the strange and spindly gargantuan form of Forerunner ships. Devastatingly human, made to human scale, of human parts, but alien entirely to them as any missionary ship or Forerunner ruin. Her red hair whipped about her face as she put her helmet on, hiding a classically pretty face behind UEG military-grade glass.

With that, Booker gave them their heading, and Lovelle gave a finger wave to CMDR Durand, cheeky and perhaps a little too blasé about their current situation. Never the less, she did advance - finger off the trigger of her pistol - with the team towards the hangar, the only portion of the ship still with power.

Did it run on a conventional power source? What sort of computer systems had survived the crash? She got the feeling they had been fleeing... something.

The billion credit question was, what, exactly? And had it stowed aboard?

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

Worst Space-Bus Ride Ever!
---​

Captain Eris Lapham, of the UNSC Navy, sat in her command chair, staring through the bridge's viewport into the expanse of the void. Their current course and orientation had them moving through the system, slightly off-axis from their sun, which burned a hard orange through the viewport. She checked her displays, checking on the orbital trajectory of that habitable planet as her ship moved ever-closer, and realized that if she squinted hard she might be able to see it on the backdrop of its star.

Captain Eris Lapham, of course, did not do this; she had more important things to do. "XO, what's the situation with those probes?" Her executive officer, Commander Victor Campbell, looked up. He was not as experienced as she was, only having been commissioned as an officer in 2553, but he was a hard worker, high-performing at the academy, and had adapted well to service aboard this cursed ship.

He grimaced "Not looking good, Captain. Our stores of probes are almost out, and the ones we have left are so scrambled from plasma burns that they're nigh-useless." A brief pinging noise alerted both of them to an incoming message from the ship's AI, Leela, which scrolled on their displays. <Additionally, even our active sensor scans cannot provide us with the detail we need. Not unless we get much, much closer.>

As part of the compromises of her design, Leela was unable to project an avatar like others of her kind. On top of that, damage taken from Created cyberattacks had gotten into her library speech files and turned them into a tangled mess. The last time Leela had attempted to "speak", four crewmen had been sent to the infirmary, their ears bleeding. Now, Leela had to rely on text or non-verbal noises to convey information.

The Captain considered this information for a moment, then sighed, rubbing tired, sleep-deprived eyes. "I suppose it can't be helped. Campbell, tell Colonel Jackson I need a ground team prepped and ready in two hours. Four Pelicans, we need a team to take point on figuring out what the hell is going on. Send the Spartans and Booker, too, they'll need a good escort. Tell them they need to figure out what's going on, and that it may be our ticket back home."

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Four Pelicans spewed from the Boomer an hour later, loaded to the brim with personnel, guns, and supplies for the expedition. Aboard the lead Pelican, Master Sergeant Booker stood, clutching her assault rifle in one hand as she grasped one of the Pelican's handholds. "Alright, Marines, listen up!" She said, broadcasting to the whole force. "Command has detected some strange signals coming from some beacon or whatsit planetside. Our job is to get down there and poke around a bit to find out what it is and who's broadcasting. Don't play heroes, keep your heads down, and let the scientists do the touching. You break it, you buy it. You hear me, Marines?"

One could almost imagine the resulting Oo-Rah being heard in the vacuum of space.
Booker grunted approvingly. "That's what I want to hear, Marines! Alright, buckle in, it's gonna get bumpy out there…"
She sat down and refastened her safety harness, locking in for the difficult flight down. Aboard with her were nine others, not counting their pilots; the members of the elite "Theta-Four" unit, ONI's Commander Durand and Lieutenant McKesson, and UEG science attache Jennifer "Jinni" Cortez. She smiled at the woman to her left, Theta-Four's NCO, although because of their helmets neither could see it. "You ready for a fun one, Gunny?" She asked, on a personal channel.

"Don't get me started, Top." She replied, looking over. "You know I hate dropship ops." The younger woman had confessed as such during the two's first ever meeting, on the last ride up from New Grove ops. The Master Sergeant grinned again. This was going to be a fun one.

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The descent through the atmosphere was a bumpy one, bumpy enough that the huge Pelicans were jostled as they descended. The atmosphere was thick as soup, murky and cloudy, and hitting it caused a jolt to run through the spines of all aboard. After they had transitioned into atmosphere, Senior Chief Petty Officer Benjamin decided he needed a better view. He released his restraints and stood up, mag-clamping to the deck. If it wasn't for the need for the Pelicans to have full crews for both delivery and pick-up, he'd have insisted he fly the mission himself. He was more comfortable among the clouds than almost any in the Boomer's crew, and his reaction times were the best even among those few. Alas, he was needed for the ground operation.

He and his team were ensconced in the rearmost Pelican, alongside a particular annoying ONI scientist named Howell and a team of four ODSTs. His team leader quirked her head towards him as he moved towards the cockpit, her gesture clearly questioning. "Where might you be going?"

"In-flight meal didn't agree with me. Going to tell the pilots that I'll be lodging a complaint with the spaceline." He said dryly.

She snorted. Alexis-G081, or most Spartans for that matter, were not the most jovial types, but they appreciated the occasional levity. "Alright then, go ahead. Tell me if you see anything interesting."

He nodded, and opened the door to the cockpit. The co-pilot looked back at him for a second before returning his view forward. "Chief." He said, nodding. "We're coming out of the worst of it now, and circling near to the landing zone. We'll actually pass by the beacon site, if you want to take a look."

Ben surmised that would be a difficult endeavor. Beyond the cockpit's glass, he saw nothing but dark fog. The pilots were navigating almost entirely based off instruments; visibility was near zero. However, for just a fraction of a second, no time at all for a normal human and barely much for a Spartan, he saw… something. It looked like a fragment of a ship, jutting upward, a design that seemed at once alien to the UNSC and yet profoundly human. For some reason, he felt a slight shudder come over him. "I… better get ready for the drop." He said, closing the door. He had no idea what was coming, but whatever it was seemed… ominous.

The Pelicans rumbled through the inky sky, dark raining clouds jostling them about, cracks of lightning and thunder heralding their arrival. Yet, despite all the noise and wrath of nature outside, it was eerily quiet. Tension gripped everyone onboard as they either tried to ignore the likely nightmare awaiting them, or their minds wrestled with what the presence of this ship meant.

The wreck was warped and burnt, from either re-entry, or energy weapons. Given the visible sturdiness and thickness of the metal on display, it was likely the latter.
The Boomer's ground team marched out of their Pelican dropships, eager to investigate the wreck.

There were two large, 'main' entrances, though it would be very easy to find another hole to climb through. The aft had a large tear, like something had bore through the hull without care for its armor plating. The ship's six decks were all exposed, but even at a slight angle, the ship could only be entered from the ground floor, unless someone brought a grapple hook, or some other method of traversing upwards.
The second was the open hangar bay. Most of the lights were dead, but a few near the back still flickered with whatever power remained within the battered starship.

On the side of the vessel read, KIU Tears of Ganymede. The signal was not a lie, the design looked firmly rooted in human origin but utterly different than anything built in human space. For better or for worse, this was real, and it was the ground team's job to investigate.

Buyer Beware…
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"Go go go!" Booker shouted, as she and her team vacated the dropship. "Clear the takeoff radius!" She rushed out, rifle raised and sweeping, covering her area as she knew her men were doing. The Pelicans were back in the air in moments, returning up to Boomer's safety. After a moment, she stood up, making a hand gesture. "Alright Marines, we're in the clear! Let's get ready to move!"

She gestured to the the team leaders, to form up on her. "Alright, people, here's the plan. Echo-7, you and Charlie Squad will take ONI agent Howell up that hole in the rear of the ship. Dog Squad, you'll be covering our egress. The rest of you are with me, we'll be going in the hangar. Keep strict trigger discipline: we've got no idea what's in there. Now, let's get moving!"

She assembled with her group. Spearhead, Theta-4, CDR Durand and LT McKesson, and finally, Cortez, who waved at her cheerily. All in all, she reckoned, not the worst team to go into a hostile environment with. "Alright team, keep it close and keep ready. We've got no idea what's going on in there, and this strange ship gives me a bad feeling… SPARTANs, you lead the way."

Bizarre. There were few other, better words for it.

Lieutenant Lovelle McKesson leaned her head to peer out of the open bay of the Pelican for her first look at the derelict that had been putting out distress signals ad nauseum to the Boomer since they'd been in range. While she was aware most would feel the shiver up their spine of ghost stories and horror movies, she only felt intrigue and excitement, a cold and singing focus on the conundrum before her. She fully ignored the turbulent ride in the Pelican, blood high in her ears as she finally saw the KIU Tears of Ganymede.

A ship, that shouldn't exist. Didn't exist.

Immediately, the shape stood out to her as being foreign. Obviously human - it did not bear the swooping curves of Covenant engineering, nor the strange and spindly gargantuan form of Forerunner ships. Devastatingly human, made to human scale, of human parts, but alien entirely to them as any missionary ship or Forerunner ruin. Her red hair whipped about her face as she put her helmet on, hiding a classically pretty face behind UEG military-grade glass.

With that, Booker gave them their heading, and Lovelle gave a finger wave to CMDR Durand, cheeky and perhaps a little too blasé about their current situation. Never the less, she did advance - finger off the trigger of her pistol - with the team towards the hangar, the only portion of the ship still with power.

Did it run on a conventional power source? What sort of computer systems had survived the crash? She got the feeling they had been fleeing... something.

The billion credit question was, what, exactly? And had it stowed aboard?

The tear looked familiar to just about everyone who had worked in a dock sometime in the past thirty years. Every deck floor was curled, misshapen, and scorched from plasma fire. Something was broken inside the ship, and it was forming a layer of fog which stuck to the deck. The ship groaned as onboard systems detected life, and moved to re-activate automatic doors and lights, with only a handful actually working.

The ship, where it wasn't black for burning, was typically white and orange, sleek and classically space age. Exposed, heavy piping ran across the bottoms of walls, punctured in many places. Most of the technology on display was analog, doors controlled, if not by sensors, then by switches. There were no holographic displays, and an uncommonly small amount of screens - it was the future past, like a classical engineer from pre-flight Earth was asked to design a spaceship.

It was more still more advanced than the Interplanetary Wars, the time frame of the Koslovics. McKesson's keen eye did spot, however, several references to a pinch fusion generator at the heart of the ship - which only added to the mystery, seeing how that was Covenant technology.

Periodically, Dog Squad would report back in. They had found several crates of supplies in the box, all of which were written on in some odd mix of Russian and German. Everything from spare parts, to MREs, to medicine, to guns and marine equipment were present. Of course, Dog Squad took the most interest in the new firearms, after deciding the MREs were not an improvement.

The Koslovic assault rifle wasn't too bad, all in all. While Dog Squad wasn't stupid enough to start shooting with it, they reported it was light, but not fragile, furnished with wood and combined with simple, machined parts. It was even still a bullpup, and they remarked how little different these disparate humans seemed.

There was more, of course. Revolvers, shotguns, body armor, pizza slices. The key takeaway was, though these Koslovics seemed to embrace a different tongue than the UEG-endorsed central language of English, they weren't alien to Earth's humans by any means that they could tell.

That didn't answer every question, though. Not by a longshot.

Eventually, Booker and her team found the bridge of the derelict vessel, where they found bodies. A lot of bodies. The entire room was filled, nearly to the brim, with corpses. They spilled out when the door opened, decidedly human, and decidedly dead. They were missing limbs, parts of their heads, holes driven through their chests, like someone had plunged a chair leg through them.

It was horrible, and Jiralhanae. But the Banished, and many of the brutes, would've used this harvest for a feast. This was slaughter, and they treated the bodies dementedly. Through a speaker, echoing from behind the pile of the dead, the same voice from the distress call rang out, and rang again, and Booker couldn't help but wonder if the people, or beasts, who did this action were still lurking around the area.

Regardless, it was only a matter of time until others came to investigate, perhaps even other Koslovics. The promise of a new and entirely independent human civilization on the other side of the Orion Arm, boarding Sagittarius, was as boggling as ever. Now, however, it had a new, dark light which painted it, and Booker had a hell of a report to make - and a decision. What to do with all this?