Chapter 432: Infighting and Unity

Spartan Program.

The room was eerily silent, aside from the occasional footsteps of technicians and the faint hum of electronic equipment.

Sealed airtight and immaculately clean, the air carried a faint yet lingering scent of disinfectant. Weak ultraviolet lamps bathed the space in a sterile glow, their dim light complementing the silver-gray tones that dominated the operations room.

Faint illumination from the holographic screens barely revealed the scattered folders strewn across the desks. Embedded in the walls, glass display cases showcased an array of “MJOLNIR” powered exoskeleton systems, the standard-issue Spartan armor developed over the years.

From MJOLNIR Mark I, to Mark II, all the way to the latest iteration provided to the Spartans—the MJOLNIR Mark V, which, through reverse-engineering Covenant technology (since most of the Covenant’s advancements stemmed from Forerunner inheritance, making the process smoother than expected), successfully integrated a passive energy shielding system.

Each model was on display in fully assembled form.

Before Dr. Catherine Halsey took over, the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) had already developed three generations of powered exoskeletons (MJOLNIR Mark I to Mark III). However, each suffered significant technical flaws, rendering them impractical for combat deployment.

It wasn’t until the Human-Covenant War erupted in 2525 CE that Dr. Halsey took charge of the MJOLNIR project and introduced groundbreaking innovations—not only solving the power supply issue but also enhancing the wearers’ physical capabilities.

Thus, from the MJOLNIR Mark IV onward, the armor could finally be considered the first true generation of the “MJOLNIR” powered exoskeleton system (Gen-1).

Near the main control platform, a solitary figure leaned against the console.

The dim glow outlined her silhouette, revealing only that she was a woman, though her age and defining facial features remained obscured for the moment.

She rested both hands behind her on the control station, her head lowered, seemingly deep in thought.

Around her, several white-coated technicians clustered near the main control console, their eyes locked onto the holographic screen, scrutinizing every minute fluctuation in the data feed.

Suddenly, red warning lights flashed across the central display, and one of the technicians stepped forward, approaching the woman lost in thought.

“Dr. Halsey, I believe the Master Chief and Silver Team have encountered trouble.”

“The Master Chief?”

Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey lifted her gaze.

A Caucasian woman, with blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and distinct Germanic features—large eyes, a straight nose, and full lips.

“John? What happened to him and Silver Team?”

“The Master Chief’s and Silver Team’s mission report has already been uploaded to the United Nations Space Command. Doctor, you should take a look yourself.”

Beep— Beep—

Bracing both hands against the holographic operations console, Halsey swiped her fingers across the interface.

“Open Spartan mission logs—Madrigal, Master Chief 117. Establish communications link. Connect to combat recording system.”

“Access granted, Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey.”

Before long, the central screen shifted, and the deep, resonant voice of the Master Chief came through the communication system.

“Command, this is Silver Team reporting: Covenant forces on Madrigal have been eliminated. No Grunts or Jackals detected. Killed 146 Elite warriors, captured 6. Resistance forces suffered 142 civilian casualties, 9 survivors remaining.”

“A small-scale unit composed purely of 150 Covenant Elites? And you took prisoners…?” Halsey’s voice carried a rare note of concern. “John, are you alright? Were there any injuries in Silver Team…?”

It was uncharacteristic. In past engagements, the Master Chief never left Covenant forces alive. Why the sudden change?

It was clear that when it came to Spartans—especially Spartan-IIs and John-117—Dr. Catherine Halsey held deep concern.

“Wait… no Grunts, no Jackals?”

Mid-sentence, Dr. Halsey’s sharp mind instantly caught onto something amiss.

On the front lines of the Human-Covenant War, a single Sangheili warrior often required ten or more UNSC Marines to bring down—sometimes even more. And they were rarely alone; their ranks were always bolstered by large numbers of Grunts and Jackals.

“The Covenant must be searching for something.” She murmured with certainty.

For a squad of over a hundred Elites to appear on a remote resource planet like Madrigal, there had to be something more to it.

“Silver Team suffered no casualties… but the victory was not ours.”

“What?”

For a moment, Dr. Halsey failed to process the Master Chief’s report.

If Silver Team hadn’t secured the battle’s outcome, then who did? Surely it couldn’t have been the Madrigal resistance—that wouldn’t make sense. If they had possessed such overwhelming strength, they wouldn’t have been so thoroughly crushed in the first place.

“John, give me a full report.”

“Report: Silver Team encountered unidentified human allies. Biologically enhanced warriors. Highly proficient in close-quarters combat. Well-equipped. Display clear signs of formal military training. Requesting UNSC verification. Over.”

On Madrigal, the Master Chief glanced toward the Astartes warrior who had just returned, a hollowed-out triangular crystalline object in his grasp.

“The unidentified artifact the Covenant was searching for… has now been retrieved from them.”

“Allies? Biologically enhanced warriors?”

Dr. Halsey exchanged a puzzled look with her assistant.

According to Spartan Operations, only Silver Team had been deployed to Madrigal—no other Spartans were supposed to be present.

Moreover, Spartans should recognize each other. If there were any other Spartan units deployed, Silver Team would have known.

“Could they be a special operations unit sent by the UEG central government…?”

The next moment, data synced, and through the split feeds from Silver Team’s helmet cams, the desolate desert landscape of Madrigal came into view before Dr. Halsey’s eyes.

And in that instant, everyone in the room froze, eyes widening in shock.

“They…”

The scene was chaotic—loud, disorderly. The howling desert winds whipped through the air, a cacophony of noise making it difficult to discern the finer details. Blood, dust, and smoke from recent explosions obscured the feed, leaving parts of the scene shrouded in uncertainty.

However, as they observed the tall, pale-skinned human male clad in deep blue power armor, who had removed his helmet and was now conversing amicably with several Spartans, the others finally got a clear look at the Astartes warriors.

“The double-headed eagle of the Eastern Roman Empire… Is it Vienna? Moscow? Or perhaps Constantinople?”

At that moment, Halsey felt a sense of relief. She could now be reasonably certain that these giants were not the work of alien forces—so long as they were human, that was enough.

After all, it was already the 26th century. Even if the Covenant had attempted some kind of infiltration or deception, it was highly unlikely that they would possess such an intricate understanding of human history from centuries ago.

On the four segmented screens displaying live footage from within the drilling station, the Elite corpses were in an utterly gruesome state. But what was even more shocking was the sight of giants so large that even Spartans had to look up to them.

Take Master Chief-117, for example. His height was 2.083 meters barefoot and 2.18 meters in Mjolnir armor, with a total weight of 576.5 kg, including the armor.

Yet, these so-called allies, as Master Chief had referred to them, were massive, clad in heavy armor and fully armed—each one towering over Spartan-II warriors by five to six sizes.

“They’re Brutes, aren’t they?!”

“No… They’re even bigger than Brutes. My god, they’re like the descendants of the Titans from legend.”

The people present were all scientific researchers, personally selected by the genius Dr. Halsey as her assistants and technical staff. Their reactions made it clear—they were fanatics for scientific discovery.

Their hungry, fervent gazes resembled those of someone who had been locked away in a monastery for years, only to suddenly be set free into a world of forbidden knowledge.

A delighted smile spread across Halsey’s face. Her hands gripped the edge of the console tightly, and her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

“Stronger, faster, and more efficient than Spartans… A true biochemical enhancement… and so far, no signs of instability.”

“Doctor, the officer identifying himself as part of the ’Night Lords Legion’ wishes to meet with our commanding officer. Should we…?”

“John, I agree to the communication.”

At that very moment, the electronic voice of the security system announced:

“Admiral Baragosky, access granted.”

“John, hold on.”

Exchanging a subtle glance with her assistants, Halsey made a swift gesture, terminating her communication link with Master Chief.

Immediately, the other researchers restrained their excitement, casually dispersing to their respective tasks as if nothing had happened.

A middle-aged woman with a sturdy frame, clad in the black uniform of a United Nations Space Command officer, stepped forward with a stern expression. This was Admiral Baragosky.

“Catherine, I just received word—nearly 150 civilians were killed on Madrigal. That is hardly an achievement your Spartans should be proud of.”

“Even if they were insurrectionists from the outer colonies—it is still unacceptable.”

She fixed Halsey with a hard stare before delivering a sharp warning.

“Catherine, I must remind you—the Security Council is already looking for an excuse to cut your funding.”

Upon hearing this, a flicker of cold displeasure flashed through Halsey’s eyes, but she maintained a faint smile. Without missing a beat, she countered Admiral Parangosky’s statement, saying, “No, no, Admiral. To be precise, the number of deaths is 142.”

(PS: In the original work, bureaucratic infighting among Earth’s human councils, tensions between near-Earth and outer colonies, and constant budget cuts deeply frustrated Halsey, severely delaying her research.)

“Before Silver Team intervened, the Covenant had already inflicted these casualties. It was only because of Silver Team and ’them’ that the remaining rebels were fortunate enough to survive.”

“And what good is it if only a handful survive?”

Sweeping a glance around Halsey’s laboratory, Parangosky narrowed her eyes. “As for remedial measures, the Security Council suggests sending a diplomatic envoy to talk with the survivors.”

“Miranda Keyes understands Madrigal. She will handle this matter. I plan to have her establish contact with the survivors.”

After saying this, Parangosky asked, “Any objections?”

Though phrased as a question, Halsey knew she had no real power to object.

“None.”

Shaking her head, Halsey responded expressionlessly, “I will comply.”

“And this ’them’ you mentioned—who are they?”

At this, Dr. Halsey let out a faint, icy smile, her expression laced with meaning.

“Ah, so even you don’t know, Admiral?”

…

Madrigal.

Whooosh—!

The fierce wind howled through the gaping rupture in the drilling station’s circular walls, whipping against the Astartes’ power armor, making their capes and sashes billow violently.

“Oh? Your superior has run into some trouble and wants us to wait?”

Holding his helmet in one hand, the Night Lords officer gazed down at the four Spartan warriors before him.

“Tch. Putting on quite the airs, aren’t they?”

With a hiss of depressurizing air, a World Eater stepped forward, removing his helmet—revealing a human face that took the Master Chief and his team by surprise.

There was nothing in his appearance to suggest he was a monstrous butcher of heads. Beneath that white-and-blue-trimmed power armor, the most crazed executioner on the battlefield turned out to be… surprisingly clean-cut. Apart from his face being broader and larger than average, he looked every bit the cheerful, handsome young man with an easygoing smile.

Dashing and masculine—well… if one ignored the blood splattering his armor, the chainsaw axe resting on his shoulder, and the Sangheili heads hanging from his belt.

“Are we really just going to stand around waiting? Old Bat, I’m hungry.”

“The battle is over. My warriors are hungry.”

Turning to the Spartans, he continued, “If you are willing, I’d like to invite you aboard our warship for a more in-depth discussion. There will be a welcoming feast.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand. “Prepare for withdrawal!”

“HUAH!”

The Astartes, whether patrolling or clearing the battlefield, immediately thumped their chests in response, forming into disciplined ranks in preparation for extraction by the ship’s teleportation platform.

“Here it comes.”

Following the Astartes’ gaze, Master Chief looked toward the horizon. Though still distant, the unmistakably rigid, angular silhouette confirmed that what approached was no natural landform but an artificial construct.

As it neared from low orbit, the looming warship—massive as a small mountain—came into clearer view. The dark, cavernous barrels protruding from its broadside left no doubt: this was a battleship.

“The United Nations Space Command doesn’t have warships of this class.” The female Spartan-028, equipped with an interstellar communication pack, remarked.

“Then let’s meet them and see just who their commander really is.”

The Master Chief estimated that the warship was approximately five kilometers long. According to the current organizational structure of the UNSC Navy, a vessel of this size would be classified as a fleet flagship.

Unknown model.

Just as the team was making their final preparations, a communication signal from the highest-ranking officer aboard the reconnaissance ship echoed in the helmets of all Astartes warriors.

A voice, authoritative and precise, came through the internal comms channel.

“Gentlemen, I bring good news.”

“Her Majesty, along with Grand General Budo, Legion Commander Konrad Curze, and Legion Commander Angron, has mobilized the main Imperial forces.”

“In other words, our reconnaissance mission is now complete. Our designation is automatically shifting from an advance scouting unit to a vanguard assault force.”

“Reach is our next destination. We will deploy there, activate the Ruptured Crystal Star Beacon, and establish the most valuable coordinates for the main fleet’s warp gate exit.”

At that moment, an unexpected voice cut through their comms.

“Wait, you guys aren’t just going to leave like that, are you?”

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