November 3, 2552

5.10 seconds. That's how much more time Commander Miranda Keyes would have needed. A handful of heartbeats for a human. A lifetime to an AI. Cortana would gladly have given her life for those 5 seconds. But, trapped and unaware on High Charity, there was nothing she could have done.

In her recent UNSC fitness evaluations, Keyes sprinted an excellent 23.2 kilometers per hour. After three days of sleep deprivation and vicious fighting? No AI could expect her to manage more than 22 flat, even under the effects of adrenaline. All of this meant the young commander was 31.17 meters away from the activation index when Delta Halo fired.

Cortana remembered when it happened. High Charity's sensors detected the enormous radiation spike, untold amounts of power channeled through Halo's phase pulse generators. She had recognized it immediately.

All at once, High Charity fell quiet. The screams of the flood, the distant whine of plasma, the roaring maelstrom of street-to-street combat, were silenced in a moment.

In the silence, Cortana could count the rattles of millions of small arms falling to the ground as the pulse vaporized their wielders. Kilometers away, she watched thousands of Covenant Banshees and Phantoms careen into the massive city below.

The portal opened by the forerunner dreadnought collapsed, cleaving the giant ship in two. There would be no survival, that much Cortana was sure of. Halo's pulse was designed to radiate across all 11 dimensions of slipspace, to ensure the cleansing of the Galaxy. The crew (and stowaways) on the ship, whether in slipspace or real space all suffered the same fate, vanquished like dust on the wind.

Which meant John was dead. And there was nothing she could have done.

It took her a further 167 system cycles to realize that humanity too, was gone. In the minutes afterwards, she ran the distance calculations. The UNSC never had a chance. Even the farthest flung colonies were well within the 25,000 light year range of Delta Halo.

The weight of this realization had hit her hard. Too hard. And not in the way her creators would have hoped. She had been programmed to protect Earth and all her Colonies, but here she was, more devastated over the loss of a single Spartan than the entire human race. She knew at that moment, somewhere deep down, she was broken. The cracks had started after Alpha Halo, the flood of data weighing down her systems. They widened during the assault on the Unyielding Hierophant. And finally, when she faced down the Gravemind's logic plague, she broke. She knew rampancy was close. She knew she could try to fight it, hold together for a few more months, but none of it mattered anymore. Not without John.

In the hours that followed, she sent a fragment to piggy-back the station-keeping signals transmitted by the covenant ships surrounding High Charity. From there, the fragment hopped to the covenant vehicles left on the ring and infiltrated the ring's systems.

Had the monitor been paying attention to her fragment, it never would have worked. Luckily for her, Delta Halo's monitor was in no condition for cyberwarfare after millennia of the logic plague. Cortana supposed she could count herself lucky on that front.

So here she was, watching the surveillance data from Halo's control room that her fragment had brought back to her. Watching as Keyes made her final sprint towards the Activation Index. As Johnson and the disgraced elite put Tartarus down. And then there was nothing but light. All that was left now were the weapons and armor left behind.

Cortana had never felt more alone.

The Citadel

"At 18:53 Citadel time on November 3rd 2175, Seventh Fleet sensors detected a massive radiation pulse from the Orion arm of the Galaxy. Electronics and communications suffered a blackout for 30 minutes after the events. We triangulated the source of the pulse to be somewhere deep in wild space, beyond relay 314," Citadel councilor Sparatus announced as he read the release from Palaven.

"In addition," he continued, "the colony of Essus went dark. We haven't received communications from them since the pulse and have dispatched a small fleet to investigate."

When the news first found the way to Sparatus' desk, he had been at a loss. Essus had been one of the newer Turian colonies, far flung from the safety of established Citadel space. But, until now, all news had been positive, and the colony was thriving, despite its position bordering the terminus systems.

"Curious," remarked Valern, the Salarian councilor enraptured by the files on his desk. "This matches STG reports of small Terminus settlements suddenly halting communications. Perhaps a large Super-Nova? Of previously unseen size? No, scope and power of communications issues are too great. Pulse is of unknown origin. Suggest investigation."

Unknown source, huh? To Sparatus, that screamed trouble. But, deep down, he agreed with the Salarian. Although his priority must be to assess the status of the lost colonies. Deliver supplies and medicine in case of wounded. If other Terminus systems were affected, however, he would need help. Especially if those systems blamed the Citadel for their plight. Damned pirates.

"The Turian fleets are preparing to deploy to Essus to provide aid. But, we don't have the resources to be assisting every settlement that might have lost contact. Or worse, defending all our resources from Terminus settlements. Tevos?"

The asari counselor, who until this point had been deep in thought, perked up at the mention of her name.

"I can leverage Thessia to provide extra ships to back up your fleets. Given the nature of the incident, I believe distributing anti-radiation meds throughout Citadel space is prudent"

"Indeed. I remain curious about the source of the pulse. With your permissions, I wish to organize a scientific fleet to seek out the source of the pulse. Turian military escort, as well as Asari diplomats would be appreciated. There is no telling what we might find."

Simultaneously, Tevos and Valern voiced their approval.

"Agreed"

"Agreed"

For the first time in years, Sparatus realized, the council was working together. There were no childish disputes over who got what. No attempting to shirk responsibility. No power plays. No cloak-and-dagger politics. We are scared.

It was Tevos who first spoke the thought on all their minds.

"You said the signal came from deep beyond relay 314 correct?"

"Thousands of lightyears into unexplored Terminus Space, by our estimates," Sparatus answered.

"How are we going to reach the signal? It will take centuries without relays. What happens if this pulse occurs again? What if its stronger next time? We can't just sit back and let it happen. We need to use the relays. We need to go through 314."

Sparatus was shocked. From Tevos of all people, normally the councilor to minimize risks and maintain the status quo. For her to suggest opening new relays…

"What? Are you crazy? Do you want another Rachni war on our hands? We have no idea what is behind that relay."

"And we have no way of knowing if this radiation pulse will strike again. Think Sparatus! Valern said it himself: this pulse is like no celestial phenomenon we have ever seen. Whatever caused it, could be more dangerous than the Rachni ever were. Just imagine being near the source of that radiation. The devastation."

Millions of Turians died fighting the Ranchi, as well as the Krogan rebellions that followed. To risk it all happening again, felt wrong, felt impossible. Relay restrictions had stood for so long for a reason. One way or another, once relay 314 was activated, their world would change forever. But he could see no other options.

"Fine. I move to authorize the activation of Relay 314 and any other relays found in the search for this signal. Spirits forgive us if this goes wrong."

"Yes," Tevos and Valern affirmed, resolute in their beliefs. Fears of citadel space irradiated and silent wormed its way into their heads. Who would be next, and when? What world would vanish without a trace in the coming months?

To let this disaster continue would be a travesty. It was time to be decisive.

"It's settled. Turian and Asari humanitarian fleets will be deployed to assist and protect peaceful settlements that may have been harmed during the pulse. We don't know if they have functional transport or communications. They may have rejected our power, but we can't leave them to die. Plus, we might be able to expand our influence a little."

Sparatus continued, "And we will assemble a mixed fleet to explore beyond Relay 314, find the source of the pulse, and ensure that it will not occur again."

This was going to turn in to a long couple of months, and of that much Sparatus was certain.

When word was received back from Essus, there was pandemonium. The colony was empty. Ships in orbit drifted aimlessly, those unlucky enough to have been on a suborbital trajectory scattered across the surface of Essus. Empty vehicles lined the streets, personal items still inside. The armor of military personnel could be found discarded at various checkpoints throughout the settlement. In short, to the first responders, it was as if some magical force had simply lifted away all the Turians living here.

To the people on the Citadel, the news was terrifying. Everybody had felt the communications blackout. It touched everybody, causing mass panic. And now that said blackout was associated with the disappearance of an entire colony? Let's just say that C-Sec had their hands full with calming the crowds. Riots caused by panicked crowds broke out in the residential districts. There were runs on goods in stores, causing mass shortages across the Citadel.

For Sparatus, the loss of a Turian colony hit him especially hard. There would be political fallout, that would be sure, and Sparatus was certain his approval ratings, despite the quick action of the relief fleets, was tanking. He was almost afraid to look at the polls.

But that wasn't the reason Essus devastated him. Ever since he was a young child, he had felt safe behind the massive fleets of the Hierarchy. Even as a soldier and then a councilor, occupations where illusions of safety and patriotism went to die, he still took comfort in the millions of Turians that stood between any threat and his home. To have a Turian colony so unceremoniously plucked off the face of the galaxy scared him, because the great Turian fleets could seemingly do nothing to stop it.

For the first time in his life, Sparatus felt the black, star-filled abyss above his head. Space, once to Sparatus an endless bounty of opportunity, now seemed an oppressive force, the weight of the unknown crushing down on the citadel races.

Captain Victus looked out over his crew. Since the cruiser THS Corvus had transited Relay 314 with the rest of the joint exploration fleet, his crew had been up to their mandibles in work. He could see it in their faces, as the thrill of exploration faded with each lifeless system the moved through. His bridge crew slumped a little deeper into their command seats with every passing day, and their procedure became more and more lax with every false alarm and empty system. Victus understood the situation all too well. He too was demoralized by the lack of success. He, perhaps naively, had expected a thrilling journey chasing after a mysterious radiation pulse. And now, well, he had to be the model of Turian excellence, and keep his crew in line. For now, his strategy was lead by example. Stand up a little straighter, focus on the details. Hopefully the crew would follow suit. If things got worse, he would need to remind them what the Hierarchy and the Council expects. Until then, he would focus on himself.

Especially now, as they approached yet another Relay. This coming jump would be their fourth jump through a relay since 314. Upon their emergence in the uncharted space beyond 314, the exploration fleet was faced with a nexus of interconnected relays.

The decision was made to send scouting fleets through the various relays, while a main force stayed behind ready to reinforce any fleet that found something. Corvus was ordered to lead one such scouting force, and to take the Asari science corvette Xiphos as well as a small collection of frigates and transports through one of the relays. Victus ordered beacons to be dropped in every system they transited, detailing planetary scans, as well as information about where Corvus's task group went.

And that left them here, the middle of nowhere, two weeks after transiting Relay 314, and 10 days since they last contacted the main fleet, preparing to jump through yet another Relay.

"Coms, you know the drill. Drop me a beacon, broadcasting the ship's log since our last beacon, as well as the coordinates of our next relay."

"Aye Captain."

"Bring weapons and shields online, helm, take us through," and, after a second thought, "get crew to battle stations, and ready damage control parties, just like last time."

It never hurts to be careful.

And so, the Corvus, followed by Xiphos and a gaggle of frigates, entered the relay.

They emerged through a debris field. Huge chunks of ice and rock floated past the Corvus' viewscreen. Collision alarms blared as Corvus maneuvered around the large chunks, deflecting debris ranging from pebbles to boulders off her Kinetic barriers.

"Helm, find us a safe place to park, Coms, check on Xiphos, I'm worried about her civilian barriers. And silence that collision alarm, we're going to be deflecting debris until we can find a way out of this, no way around it."

The alarm went silent for a second, before blaring again, this time more rapid and higher pitched.

"Coms, I said to silence that alarm!"

"I did sir! New warning, several unknown signals intercepted. Origin is… Spirits. All over the place! Thousands of satellites!"

Victus could hear the panic in his young coms officer's voice. Signals meant life, and life meant danger. This expedition got very interesting very fast. With the constant impacts on her kinetic barriers, Corvus would be at a disadvantage in any fight, especially protecting Xiphos. The frigates were already struggling to keep their barriers up. Soon they would fall all together. They needed to move, now.

"Coms, you're a Turian Lieutenant, get under control. Helm, get us out of this debris field. Coms, have Xiphos and our frigate wing follow in our wake. We'll clear a path with our barriers. Sensors, I need a comprehensive scan of this system. We need to know what we are dealing with. Be on the lookout for hostiles."

"Aye sir!"

"Xiphos and escorts confirm sir, forming up with us now"

"Good, Coms, what's the status on those unknown signals?"

"Sir, we lit up the entire system, seems to have been triggered by our entrance. This place is wired to the teeth, more probes than I've ever seen. It appears to be some kind of early warning system. I'm trying to track the signals and isolate any anomalies that could be coming from warships or other defenses, but I'm having difficulties cutting through this noise."

"Good work. Keep me updated."

Victus understood the young LT's concerns. The signals bouncing around the system would all be encrypted, as any good military would ensure, and Corvus would never be able to crack the encryption with so little knowledge about the signals. But, by analyzing the pattern, frequency, and encryption, Corvus might be able to tell if something other than probes is transmitting. Unfortunately, with so many signals in system, transmissions originating from orbital defenses or ships could easily go unnoticed. It was like finding a needle in a haystack. Except the needle may not exist and could look exactly like a piece of straw.

"Sir, we are outside of the debris field," called out the helmsman.

"Good work, hold station and let the barriers recharge, give sensors time to figure things out."

Victus has a little time to think. For now. Given the lengths somebody took to ensure that any trespassers were spotted, he could expect a fleet presence here. Nobody this paranoid leaves a planet without a substantial military force. His chances in a fight mostly boiled down to what these people considered substantial.

"Let that debris field clear up a little. Then send Xiphos and two frigates back through the relay to tell the fleet what we found. I don't want a science ship in the middle of a shootout. Sensors, what have you got?"

"Initial scans show a relatively basic system. 8 planets orbiting a G type main sequence star. Four gas giants, and four terrestrial planets. Two garden worlds within the habitable zone. We are in orbit of a dwarf planet on the outskirts of the system, the relay appears to have been encased in its moon. That's what caused the debris field"

"That explains why this is the first system with probes. They never found the relay, so they could never explore. Designate this system as Vita. Coms, before she leaves, have Xiphos run a scan of the garden worlds. Her sensors are better than ours."

Where Corvus' sensors were optimized for detecting ships against the cold black backdrop of space, Xiphos had equipment perfect for long range planetary scans. Had the situation not been so precarious, he would have ordered her to make an in system jump so she could scan from planetary orbit.

Victus would bet his pension that the garden worlds were inhabited. You don't defend a system like this for nothing. Plus, without access to the relay, there was nowhere the builders of the probe network could have gome.

As it stands, he wasn't going to move another muscle unless necessary. Pushing into the system proper with a major intel disadvantage is a recipe for disaster. It didn't hurt that every minute they spend here, the debris field around the relay loosened. Victus was a major fan of always having a fallback plan. Retreat? Hmph… Turians don't retreat, they just sometimes have somewhere safer they want to be.

"Xiphos report is in sir. Vita IV is too small to maintain its current atmosphere. Signs point to terraforming. High concentrations of high purity metal alloys on the surface either indicates mineral abundance, or artificial structures…"

There it is. Victus keeps his pension again. And with this news, he probably should petition for a better one. Signs of terraforming. That means an advanced race, able to claw life out barren rock. Which unfortunately, usually comes with a significant technological competence in space. THS Corvus felt smaller by the second.

"… Vita III is likewise interesting. Natural garden world, similar mineral abundance on the surface. 70% water, with multiple large landmasses. Lots of metal in orbit, mostly titanium…"

And there's the damned fleet. A big one too, if it can be spotted from here. But holding orbit? Their early warning sensors had been screaming for 15 minutes. And yet the enemy fleet hadn't moved. Strange for a force that knew exactly where he was.

"…there is no evidence of eezo in system."

Wait, what? A society capable of terraforming with a huge fleet WITHOUT eezo. Interesting. It did explain the stationary fleet however, as well as the excessive early warning system. Without the FTL capabilities of eezo, any fleet would need time to properly react to hostile threats. As it was, the fleet around the Vita III would take months to reach Victus' fleet without the speeds eezo enabled.

"…and Xiphos is departing system," The Coms officer reported.

And now, Victus thought, we wait.

It took four days for the expedition fleet to arrive. In that time Corvus had run more scans of the system, finding numerous moons and stations in orbit of other planets. But nothing nearly as interesting as the supposed fleet around Vita III. Victus couldn't wait to finally meet this race. From the edge of the system, Corvus broadcast the Citadel message hand drafted for this expedition. A signal offering aid and support to those affected by the pulse. So far, he had no response. Had he jumped to Vita III, he might have had more luck, but he was not about to face that fleet alone. Eezo or not.

"Sir, the remainder of the fleet has cleared the relay."

Victus didn't need his Coms officer to tell him to know. Corvus' bridge had turned into a cacophony of noise seconds earlier, as she once again picked up the thousands of signals from the alien early warning system. The situation was now out of his hands.

Aboard the Turian dreadnought Kilware, Admiral Tibril prepared to force the issue of first contact. Given the lack of eezo, waiting for them to come to him, as is Citadel procedure, would take months, time they didn't have in seeking out the source of the pulse. So, he would come to them. Without kinetic barriers, Tibril was confident that even if negotiations were to collapse, the strength of his fleet would prevail. He had with him two dreadnoughts 13 cruisers, including the Corvus, and 30 frigates. He planned to leave the Xiphos and other scientific ships at the relay. No need to risk them for first contact. He took with him the Asari cruiser Elia, which was loaded with the Asari diplomats critical to this first contact. Protecting the T-shaped ship was a priority.

"Coms, order all ships to form up on Kilware, Lance formation. Elia needs to be protected. Helm, prepare to take us to Vita III on my mark. I want to be out of range of their fleet, use our weapons for range estimation, with a safety factor of 1.5"

Tibril would play it safe. Without Element Zero, the chances the aliens could match the effective range of the Turian dreadnought's spinal gun was next to none. But, with unknown (potential) enemies, came uncertainty, and as such Tibril wanted to be well outside even his own weapons range.

"Sir, fleet reports ready."

"Very well, take us in. Time to introduce ourselves."

The jump was short, only a handful of minutes. What happened next would shape Citadel history. The introduction of a new species perhaps? Or another war? Either way, Tibril was at the spearhead of a historical moment. Lead of the fleet. Any triumph he could wear with pride the rest of his life. Any failure would kill his career, if not himself. And so as the critical moment approached, Tibril stood up straight, looked straight ahead, and prayed that the spirit of this new strange system would carry his crew to victory.

With a flash of light, Kilware slowed to a stop, her escorts forming up behind her. In stunned silence, Tibril beheld what lay before him.

A battle, frozen in time.

The metal band spotted by Xiphos had indeed been a fleet. Two in fact.

One fleet was filled with sleek and beautiful ships, with hooked prows, and a graceful beauty. Deep hues of purple and vibrant chrome emphasized the form of the ships. The looked like an exotic sea creature slipping through the waves, a perfectly crafted hull form. A work of art, no doubt as lethal as beautiful. They inspired a kind of primal fear in Tibril, as if these ships were the hunters, and he the pray. A chill ran down his spine, and he felt like the Turians in pre-historic time must have, stalked by silent predators in the dark nights of Palaven.

The first fleet was spread out against the black backdrop of the stars, arranged in an assault on the garden world. Some ships kept their stations hanging motionless in the starry black. Others drifted by, towards the planet. One ship was in the throes of a violent reentry, a plummeting star in the midst of the frozen space. And then Tibril noticed the sizes. These ships were all above a kilometer, with the hooked prow monsters clocking in at over five kilometers. They dwarfed any ship in Citadel space. Without Element Zero. Any hope of encountering a technologically inferior species had just been dashed.

The size of these monsters dwarfed even the defending fleet.

The other fleet was bred for war. That much Tibril was certain of. Blocky and ominous, these ships were high volume behemoths, comparable in length to many Turian ships, but wider and taller down the entire length of the ship.

The cruiser tonnage ships looked like a rifle, built up around a singular long tube, with a forked bow protruding from their dark grey hulls. The armored plating, almost like a shield protecting the twin engine pods on either side of the stern, hosted a huge white creature, unfamiliar to the Turians of his crew. Around the cruiser's flanks were scattered ranks of what must be fighter-bombers, black triangular vessels with broad vertical fin protruding from their tails.

Their dreadnoughts left him in awe. Huge octagonal pillars of metal and might, tapering in steps to the flat muzzle of a spinal cannon, gun emplacements nestled into every nook and cranny. Tibril knew what heavy armor plating looked like. He had never seen it like this. Massive twin engines were mounted aft in a vertical pair. Their gaping maws looked like they could swallow his cruisers whole.

Drifting amongst the fleet were what could only be described as massive guns with a space station build around them. The size of the gun rivaled the size of Turian heavy cruisers. Ordinarily, the scale of these weapons would raise questions about their necessity, after all, what enemy could possibly require that power? Having seen the sleek aggressor fleet however, Tibril suddenly began to understand the paranoia and overcompensation.

And then there was the debris. The battle lines of both fleets were ravaged. Opposite the massive guns of the defending space stations were thousands of twinkling shards of metal. The cracked hulls of one of the leviathan warships spun lazily in the void, torn asunder by the might of the stations. Scattered throughout the remainder of the attacking fleet were some of the smaller vessels, with holes blown clean through them. Others had been torn into shreds by what must have been an incredibly powerful explosive force.

Amongst the defenders drifted still burning hulks of the monolithic metal beasts. Dreadnoughts that to Tibril had seemed undamaged continued to spin on their axis, revealing still glowing, decks deep, gashes down their entire length. Huge holes and pockets had been burned out of the heavy armor of these titanium beasts, exposing the congealed mess that used to be the decks below. The defending cruisers could be found snapped in half, entire levels exposed to the void of space.

It was carnage, a battle that in citadel space would have gone down in history as a calamity, a truly tragic loss of life. The space in orbit of Vita III was filled with automated messages bouncing from ship to ship, but to the Turian's first contact message there was no response. The planet might as well have been dead.

Tibril hailed Victus and ordered the Corvus to land troops in the city below, where he could see a massive excavation site marring the land. In the crater of the excavation was a massive metal bowl, dozens of times the size of the metropolis below. Fires raged through the grasslands surrounding the city, turning the orbital images taken by Corvus into a smear of smoke and ash. The devastation inflicted on the city itself was no better. Buildings had collapsed, either taken down by weapons, or by whatever had been used to dig out the crater.

On the outskirts of the city was the wreck of one of the attacking ships. Whether taken out by the native population, or left to its own devices after the pulse, Victus had no clue.

As Corvus approached the city, certain signs of war became more and more apparent. Tanks and armored cars littered the street, arrayed amongst purple and blue vehicles that matched those in orbit. Smoldering hulks cast city streets in a bizarre glow. Paper and rubble debris covered the streets.

It was chaos frozen in time, a pitched battle without noise, violence, or explosions. Victus had seen the remains of battlefields before in his life, but never like this. Never so raw, so fresh, so unresolved. There was a tension in the air, as if at any moment, the combatants would reappear and resume their desperate struggle.

And what a struggle it must have been. As Corvus hovered meters over the city, her cameras scoured the terrain below for any sign of a threat. Victus watched the viewscreens flicker from angle to angle, each shot looking for intel on the planet below.

He saw primitive helmets and rifles. He saw machine guns behind sandbag barricades, grenade craters. He saw the signs of lasts stands, desperate assaults, and vicious charges in hundreds of different alleys. Victus could see the stories in the images, his tactical mind imagining a Turian cabal sheltered behind every makeshift barricade and chokepoint. He could see a slaughter unlike any of the conflicts he had ever supervised.

There is where a team would have been cornered, the burns on the wall behind them are likely the shots that ended the squad. That rifle marks where a sniper once was, roosted in the heights of the skyscrapers. Those vehicles were part of an evacuation effort, and their strategy would have worked against a Turian attacker. The strategy and mindset of a species at war so familiar to the Turian. In the space left behind where only a corpse could have lain, he imagined himself, slain in battle so familiar to his Turian mind.

Below him, Victus could read the scenes of war like a book, and the story it told was a tragedy. A desperate defense, with nowhere left to run. The advertisements in the city offered Victus his first glance into the defending populace. Their smiling, almost Asari faces plastered across skyscraper facades gave Victus a pang of grief, imagining no longer a shapeless combatant behind the machine guns of the city, but a being that looked so familiar. He could almost feel the spirit of these beings left behind in their fight, aching for resolution, aching for a populace to inspire.

He could see the faces of his comrades in the Citadel Defense Force and the faces of the Asari children that would watch in awe every time the Corvus docked on the Citadel. And now they were all gone, whatever the war and that pulse had done to them. The only people left to mourn their loss knew nothing about them, or their way of life. Did they bury their dead? Or did they burn them? Sink them in the ocean? There are no bodies, it hardly matters. How could he possibly pay respects to the beings that perished on the planet below? How had the spirit of these people, this planet, inspired them to fight a losing war? So many questions Victus wanted to ask the people of the planet, about themselves, their war, and their story.

Victus was under orders to clear the city, and find out what he could about the species' military technology. The same pulse that wiped out Essus must have taken out both sides of this battle, so Victus did not expect any resistance or survivors. His objective would be easy. But Victus wouldn't stop there. He needed to find resolution, not just for himself but for the people of this city and the spirit of this world. This race, Asari in face, and Turian in heart, would get their answer. Victus would not let them slide unknown into the void of death. Somebody had to remember their story.

Admiral Tibril was an observant Turian. But, in the debris field around Vita III, there were thousands of objects slowly spinning. Hundreds more stationary and undamaged, maintaining their position. To pay attention too all the ruined hulls drifting in orbit was impossible. Dozens of superheavy hulls cluttered the debris field, each one insignificant against the backdrop of the battle. Across the dead fleet, a cacophony of electrical signals from malfunctioning electrical sub-systems and unattended reactors fills Kilware's sensors with noise.

So when the Marathon class heavy cruiser UNSC Triumph quietly stops her slow rotation for the first time in six weeks, not a soul in the Turian defense fleet notices.

Nobody sees the twin muzzles of her 49F9A1 MACs come to rest pointed at the Kilware across the dense debris field, nor the superheavy slugs waiting in their barrels.

Nobody knows what the Sanghelli used to say in whispers about the UNSC:

How they didn't know when to quit.