Once their employer provided the funds for the expedition, everything seemed to go smoothly—or at least that’s what he thought. By the time King Leopold learned of the escaped sves, he had already pced a bounty on their capture. However, by the time his representative arrived, more than a dozen camps had been destroyed.

  The security of the remaining camps had to be increased dramatically, but that also meant the collection of rubber slowed down significantly, impacting His Majesty’s profits. To recover from this blunder, the ideal pn was to recapture all the escapees, rebuild the camps, and—hopefully—earn a bonus for their efforts.

  Finding the runners was easy enough, but capturing them was an entirely different matter. Usually, they would surround a vilge, seize the able-bodied, tie them up, and move on to the next. However, this time, there were no vilges. The people had abandoned their homes and begun moving en masse.

  Where were they going? Who knew? But other trackers suggested they were all heading in the same direction. The pursuers kept their distance, watching from afar until they saw it: walls towering about a dozen meters tall. He sent men to search for a gap, only to discover guard towers protecting every entrance. The defenses were complete with a dry moat, traps, and obstacles, and atop the walls were numerous cannons. This was not something they could easily infiltrate.

  It would take nearly a day just to walk around the entire perimeter. Whoever these people were, protecting the sves, they were well-funded and organized. This was quite a predicament. With most of the escapees now out of reach, it was time for Pn B. Surely, there were other vilges around here. All they had to do was capture others to fill the quota. Doubt His Majesty would mind, as long as his coffers were filled.

  “Ah, Professor Reed, I presume?” Nichos said, sitting behind his desk. The office was utilitarian, with little to no decor—after all, it was a prefabricated firebase. The two MPs sent to bring her stood by the doorway, watching her every move. “Please sit, we don’t have all day.”

  Confused but unable to do much against armed personnel, Olivia simply replied, “Yes…” Her eyes scanned the room for clues as to who she was speaking with. Based on the insignia on his colr, he was a colonel, but she couldn’t quite pce him. “Colonel, is there a reason you had to send two armed marines just to get me?” she asked, sitting down in the provided chair.

  “Safety precaution. You could be armed for all I know,” he said, signing a document in front of him and reaching for the next, barely giving her a gnce.

  “Armed? Why would I be?”

  He looked up briefly before returning to his paperwork. “Well, you see, Olivia—may I call you Olivia? I’ve been receiving reports of you loitering around my base, and I don’t like that.”

  “I don’t understand. I’ve been given freedom by the Admiral, I already returned what I took from ONI, and now you want to know if I’m armed? I don’t have any reason to shoot anyone.” Her frustration grew. She had been dragged from her room, pushed around when she tried to deviate from the predetermined route.

  “Your deal with the Navy doesn’t extend out here, Professor,” he said, finally focusing on her as he picked up a nearby folder and flipped it open. “What’s your retionship with Major Victor Rodriguez?”

  Taken aback, Olivia replied defensively, “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Aside from the fact that you’re both from Sigma Octanus IV? And that, at this very moment, the ODSTs are arming random outsiders with antiques and sending them on patrols outside the perimeter using my Warthogs?”

  “That has nothing to do with me,” Olivia retorted.

  “Really? You do know that even with those crude weapons, you could kill a man at this range. Or perhaps hitch a ride on one of the Hogs to ‘freedom’.”

  “And what? Live in the jungle? I’m a historian, not a survival expert.”

  “But your knight in shining armor is,” he said, referring to the Major. “You see, Professor, my job here is to ensure the security of this base, which means watching out for you and those people your boyfriend brought along with him. As for shooting someone, well, let’s just say I don’t like the idea of civilians having access to firearms.”

  “Are you done?” Olivia asked, crossing her arms and gring at him, visibly uncomfortable with his line of questioning.

  “No.” He firmly replied, unmoved. He pulled out a picture from one of the folders on his desk and slid it toward her. “Do you recognize this symbol?”

  It took a moment, but Olivia eventually reached out and picked up the photo. Her eyes scanned it briefly before she replied, “Yes.”

  “That photo was taken a couple of days ago. A group of fewer than two hundred people are flying that on their fgs. Intelligence suggests they’re heading this way, and at their speed, they’ll be here within a month. Now, from what nation does that emblem originate?”

  “I don’t know,” Olivia replied ftly, tossing the photo back onto the desk.

  A pause. He watched as the picture slid across his desk. “You don’t know.”

  “I recognize it because I saw it in a satellite image. It was in a massive garden next to a castle. The symbol is deliberately pnted and ndscaped with the flowers, but it’s from that unknown civilization I mentioned before.”

  Vega groaned loudly. “This is what I have to deal with, Professor. More unknowns.” He sighed, took the photo back, and slid it into the folder. “Thank you, Olivia,” he said, pointing at the door and shaking his head in disappointment. Olivia was fairly certain she heard him mutter “useless” under his breath.

  The admiral stands tall on the bridge, the soft hum of the ship’s systems the only sound in the room as the crew assembles. Many stands ready at their post but their radios tuned into the announcement. This isn’t easy, he isn’t even sure if they would believe him but their best hope now is to do a leap of faith. His uniform, crisp, gleams under the sterile lights as his eyes scan the room, making sure to meet the gaze of every person standing before him, grounding them in the reality of the moment.

  “Crew. This is the Captain speaking.” his voice booms through the ship's comms, reaching every corner. "I know you're all confused, shocked, perhaps even scared. In our struggle to save Earth against the Covenant, fighting for the survival of our species. Fate has decided to throw us a curveball—a cosmic irony none of us saw coming."

  He pauses for a breath, letting the weight of his words sink in.

  "We've been thrust back. Seven hundred years. Into a past that none of us could have imagined witnessing. The world you knew—the Earth, your home pnets, your homes, your families—they’re not there anymore. Or rather, they won’t be. Not for centuries." His eyes narrow, his jaw set with resolve.

  "But hear me now: This is not the end. In fact, this is the beginning. What we once knew is gone, yes. But in this time, we have a unique opportunity—one that humanity has never had before." He leans forward slightly, his tone sharpening. "We can rewrite history." Samuel watched as the senior bridge crew for any reaction, they have already seen the reports and this is no longer a surprise but the Admiral could only imagine what the rest of the crew were saying. He felt like a coward, hiding behind a speaker while his people are stricken with grief and panicking.

  The admiral paces now, slow, deliberate steps. "Before us lies the possibility to change everything. Imagine a future where we can advance humanity centuries before its time, where we can prepare for the Covenant long before they ever reach us. Every pnet that would’ve burned, every life that would’ve been lost—our friends, our families, our homes—we can prevent it all. We can build a future without the pain and suffering that awaited us."

  He stops, looking directly into the central camera so that every soul on the ship feels like he's speaking to them personally. He knows he needs to give them a purpose now, something they could pce their faith and hopes.

  "This isn't just about survival anymore. This is about victory. It’s about ensuring that humanity wins—not just the battles, but the war. Your roles are no longer what they were yesterday. You are now pioneers, architects of humanity’s destiny. We will use everything we know—our technology, our knowledge of the future—to shape the past. To protect the people of this time, to guide them, and to prepare them for the fight that’s coming, long before it arrives."

  The admiral straightens. “I know what you're feeling. You’re mourning a life that’s gone. But I tell you now: Do not fret. Do not linger on what we’ve lost. Instead, look ahead to what we can create. Humanity needs us—now more than ever."

  He takes a step back, hands csped behind his back, surveying the crew "Get to your stations. Prepare for a new mission. Together, we will forge a new future—and this time, humanity will be ready."

  Silence falls over the crew, but it’s no longer the stunned silence of disbelief. It’s the silence of acceptance, of determination, and of hope.

  “General Athos, welcome. I know you’ve just returned from a long journey, but please, the others are waiting,” said Commander Rowall, Infantry Commander of Sri Lanka, as he hurried Athos along. The two had always had their differences, but Athos felt they needed to set those aside for now.

  “How’s everyone taking it?” Athos asked. He had to wait for the Marquis to leave before sailing home. He had been skeptical of the Maesters’ findings at first, staying at the tower for several days to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that excited them so much. Then he saw it. He couldn’t believe it himself. Several artists had tried to sketch it, as cameras were not fast enough to capture such a fast-moving object. But he had seen it. He had to warn everyone.

  “Maester Seykins’ letter arrived a few weeks ago, and since then, it’s spread like wildfire. Everyone’s either excited or afraid. The commanders are divided—some are concerned about this new threat, while others are too prideful.” The two men walked through stone corridors lit with artificial light. The walls were adorned with paintings of great victories and epic battles, images of warriors and legendary commanders.

  “We don’t even know if they’re hostile or not. The Marquis went there to find out. But regardless, I need to speak with everyone.” Athos adjusted his uniform. He hadn’t had time to prepare; he had come straight here after disembarking the ship. He was grateful, at least, that Rowall had helped gather everyone at such short notice—though perhaps they had all known this moment was coming.

  “But that doesn’t mean he’ll live and return to tell us,” Rowall countered. “You’ve read the intel reports about the other nations, right? They’re all on the brink of war. We need to act. Show the others they shouldn’t even dream of ying cim to our nds.” Rowall smiled as they reached the room. Two servants stood by the doorway, opening it to reveal a gathering of officers, their suits adorned with medals and insignia.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Athos could only stare at Rowall in disbelief as his other senses were drowned out by cheers and greetings from the officers. Not wanting to cause a scene, Athos straightened his uniform and smiled, waving and acknowledging those he knew. This was supposed to be a meeting, but the scene inside resembled more of a party—drinks in hand, food id out on vishly draped tables. Music filled the air, mingling with the scent of tobacco smoke.

  “A show of force, General,” Commander Rowall loudly procimed, ensuring everyone heard him. “You know what I think? I think this ‘new civilization’ is a smokescreen. A fiction. We’ve sent countless envoys into the African jungles before, and all we’ve ever found are tribal kingdoms. We’ve been neutral for too long, and now we have an opportunity. A false narrative to lure a royal into the middle of nowhere, giving us a cause to invade.” He looked around, watching as the other officers nodded in agreement.

  “Rowall, you bastard,” Athos muttered under his breath. It was a trap. Rowall had used his name to gather everyone here, regardless of faction, under the guise of a meeting. Both of them arriving together at the same time while in conversation made it seem like the two were already in agreement. Athos clenched his hand tightly around the pommel of his ceremonial sword, struggling to temper his anger.

  “Invade? Invade what? The Congo? That’s European territory! Are you out of your mind?” one officer interjected.

  “The Congo is not European nd—it’s private territory, owned by a king. Why else do you think they hire mercenaries for protection instead of using a regur army?” Rowall countered.

  “And what do you think will happen if the neighboring nations decide to help?” another officer chimed in.

  “Help? Why would they? If they move troops into the Congo, the neighboring colonies will think they’re the next target. We, on the other hand, are neutral to all of them.” Rowall’s logic was sound, and more and more officers began siding with him.

  “I’ve seen it myself! The machines that fly to the heavens.” Athos knew he had to act before the conversation spiraled further. What he saw that night terrified him. A vessel that could fly that high, that fast, could reach the capital in mere minutes—and they would be powerless to stop it.

  For a long moment, the room fell silent. Everyone stared at him until Rowall broke the tension. “General Athos… I didn’t know you had it in you to make up stories just to hog all the glory for yourself! I didn’t think you were that ambitious, General. Or should I call you ‘Grand Marshal’ now?” The awkward ughter that followed soon gave way to louder, heartier ughs as Rowall smiled, having seized control of the party’s mood. He sipped his wine from a goblet, smug.

  Accessing a nearby computer, Lieutenant Harris routed his connection to the bridge, trying to get in touch with the AI. “Apollo, respond.”

  A few seconds ter, the AI’s avatar appeared on the screen. “Ah… Lieutenant. It’s you again.”

  “Colonel Stone wasn’t happy with what you offered, Apollo. Surely there are other things you can spare for us.”

  “Of course he isn’t,” the AI grumbled. “The Admiral said the weapons had to be era-appropriate. And what I offered were the firearms of this era.”

  “But no one is happy with them. Please tell me there’s more.”

  Apollo sighed, despite not having lungs to do so. “I could try speaking to the Admiral for crification of his orders. But beyond that, I can’t help you any further.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah… yeah...” Apollo’s image vanished from the monitor as if waving Harris away. The AI quickly checked the ship’s sensors and located the Admiral in his office. Apollo uploaded himself onto a nearby podium, causing it to blink orange repeatedly.

  Samuel looked up from his work, noticing the blinking light in the corner of his eye. “What is it, Apollo?” he called out, continuing to read the file before him and sipping his coffee.

  “A minute of your time, sir,” Apollo projected his avatar. Samuel waved his hand, signaling him to continue.

  “Sir, I’m not sure if I can fulfill the task you assigned. Lieutenant Colonel Stone refuses to accept any of the arms I’ve offered.”

  Samuel sighed, setting down the file. He had hoped delegating tasks would free up his time, but clearly, that wasn’t happening. “What’s the issue?” Originally, the pn had been for the recruits to train on UNSC equipment, but Colonel Vega had protested, citing the risk of their technology leaking out. Perhaps Nichos was taking his job a bit too seriously, Irons thought.

  “By your orders, I selected firearms from this era. But to avoid raising suspicions, I had to choose weapons no longer under patent. Most arms used by nations of this time are still held by their respective copyright holders—some of whom are still alive.”

  Irons didn’t recall giving that specific directive, though it made sense. Still, he could see how it would limit Apollo’s options. “Apollo, when I said ‘era-appropriate arms,’ I meant that as long as the firearm doesn’t require metallurgy that hasn’t been discovered yet or electronics that aren’t supposed to exist, you can use it. Just don’t go handing out machine guns. And don’t worry about the patents—I’ll handle that.”

  Perhaps he could assign the ONI agents to some other task in the meantime. Colonel Vega had been quite vocal about his opinion on them, and as a result, Lieutenant Colonel Stone was now stuck teaching both locals and recruits using outdated weaponry. He’d just have to make up for the ck of equipment with ODST training and tactics.

  “‘Admiral’? Can you believe that murderer is calling himself that now?!”

  “You idiot! Keep your voice down! You don’t know who’s listening.”

  “Bah! Let them hear! It’s not like I’m lying.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe he’s just following orders, like us?”

  “And what? That’s supposed to absolve him? My brother and my friend died on Tharros when he abandoned the pnet to burn! He lost an entire battalion of marines there! You really think he’ll do any better with us? We’re just expendable cannon fodder to him!”

  “Enough!” A booming voice echoed through the pillbox, making both soldiers snap to attention. Colonel Vega stood by the doorway, his expression hard.

  Both men quickly moved away from their machine guns and saluted. “Sir!”

  Vega didn’t return the salute, forcing the two privates to remain standing stiffly. “As I recall, you’re here to guard this sector, not to bicker about nonsense!”

  “But Sir—”

  “Did I give you permission to speak, Private?!”

  “Sir, no, Sir!”

  Vega grabbed a stack of papers from his adjutant and threw them at the soldiers. They flinched in terror as the papers scattered across the floor. “Orders from the Admiral! Find all these men and make sure they report to Firebase Gamma by 0600!”

  He stepped closer, towering over them, his presence overwhelming. “I could have you both court-martialed for insulting a superior officer. You know that, right? But I’m feeling magnanimous today. So make sure every single person on that list is there on time. Otherwise, may the gods have mercy on your souls.”

  Without another word, Vega spun on his heel and marched out of the pillbox, his adjutant trailing behind him.