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Legacy of the Precursors

Chapter 20: Truth

“What is it that you are so eager to show me?" Six demanded, slightly bemused as Slippy all but dragged him towards engineering. The toad had suddenly appeared and appropriated him from a most entertaining conversation with Falco on the merits of various types of weaponry, only promising him that what he had to say was of more importance.

Taking the toad at face value he decided to tag along, begrudgingly.

On the morning preceding their talk at the bar, Fox informed the team that they would be returning once again to Fortuna on a hunt for venomian remnants. The CDF had done a commendable job in clearing out the majority of the scattered fragments of Oikonny's forces. But upon learning that those remaining were once more consolidating, Pepper wanted them to nip the problem before it could grow too out of control. And with the bulk of military assets focused on the reformations, it was only logical for Starfox to be the ones to take the job.

Six had spent the first few days in transit, reacquainting himself with his armor and whatever firearms remained in his possession. The repairs had finished and all that remained was the paint, which he would see to once time was made available. Ammo for his UNSC munitions was deep in the red, and he had yet to touch the Covenant arms he had looted back on Reach. In all honesty he had no desire to have them linger under his care. He had never been a fan of their weaponry, far too much misery attached. Besides which, he found cornerian blaster tech to be far more agreeable, preferring its precision and reliability. Perhaps he would hand them over to Falco; the avian had been eyeing the exotic equipment ever since he pulled them out of storage.

“Just wait, it's a surprise."

The sound of the toad's excited voice brought him back to the present.

Lowering his eyes, Six watched as Slippy quickly glided into the workshop, entering in after him. The amphibian was dead set on a table in the very back, a large dark blue tarp obscuring the item underneath.

“This is it?" He asked, eyeing the table dubiously. He had been expecting something a little more… grandiose, given the toad's usual style.

Rather than put down by the spartan's tone, Slippy nodded expectantly, quickly yanking the canvas to the deck, revealing what he had spent so long working on.

“This is it." The toad replied in none too self-impressed tone.

Six's eyes widened fractionally as he gradually lowered a hand to run across the strange, yet unmistakably familiar object. While the design had been altered to a great extent, he had carried the trademark rifle through the years and across a thousand different battlefields. He would recognize its like anywhere.

“This is… my rifle." He grunted frankly.

“Yep, took me quite a bit longer than expected, but I did just as I said I would." Slippy extended a webbed hand and ran it across the now considerably larger weapon with pride. “Honestly, the comprehensive renovation of the interior mechanisms is what appropriated most of my time, had to gut the original components in order to fit in all that new tech. And due to the successive and enormous power limitations, I had to make it a little bit bigger then you probably remember it being."

“Power limitations?" Just what exactly had the toad done?

Slippy smacked his forehead. “Right of course that would be new since the previous version was entirely gas operated. Basically," He gestured to the gun, specifically the stock, which was thicker than a typical MA37. “I installed a power cell here, which feeds into the energy converter built into what had been the receiver, and consequently imparting the rounds departing the chamber with both kinetic and thermal properties."

Six understood what the toad was saying, it bringing a slight grin to his face. “It's a hybrid."

The toad returning grin was much wider. “Got it in one, Six. This beauty utilizes ballistic and energy based technology, fusing the best of both worlds into a single deadly weapon. A solitary shot from this rifle can effortlessly pierce heavy armor while simultaneously melting through solid plating. Though, an accurate volley could hypothetically shred through most light vehicles. Oh, and I examined the bullets you gave me and dug around the history books, 7.62x51mm, pretty decent for its time. However, I hope you don't mind if I took some creative liberties with this project. Because that just didn't seem… sufficient, for a guy like you. So I did a little extra digging and found a caliber more suited for your capabilities.

Slippy opened the table's drawer and retrieved a metal cylinder, offering it to Six.

Curious, the spartan examined what he realized was a bullet, and one of quite a high caliber if his eyes did not deceive him.

“I present to you the 12.7x108mm, a considerably more powerful round and easier for me to produce here on the ship. I traced its roots to pre-blaster era heavy machineguns and anti-material weaponry. Of course I gave it the expected fine tuning, adding a few modern tweaks. Put this and your new and improved rifle together, and what you get is a weapon that can not only take out light vehicles, but heavy armor as well."

“I admit. I am impressed, Slippy. You have exceeded my already high expectations." While by no means able to turn the tide by itself, if such a weapon had existed during the war with the Covenant, it would have granted the UNSC a much needed edge.

“Well don't go heaping praise just yet." He reluctantly confessed." There are a few drawbacks. Due to the power of each shot and size of the casing, the rifle shouldn't be fired continuously and has an unusually small magazine size for an assault weapon, with only about twenty-five rounds a mag. I did install quite a few heat sinks, which is what takes up most of the extra space inside the gun and accounts for its increased size and weight. Prolonged and sustained fire can potentially overheat it in a most catastrophic and unwelcome way. Meaning, the gun would literally explode, releasing temperatures up in the high thousands to anyone standing within fifteen feet."

Six paused, his hand halting just below the trigger guard. “That would be… unfortunate."

“Yeah, to you and any unlucky individual nearby."

“Still, the benefits outweigh the risks. Thank you for this gift, Slippy. I shall use it well." With almost reverential care, Six respectfully lifted the substantially heavier gun, choosing to carry it with him until he was able to store it alongside the rest of his gear. They still had some time before they reached the mission area, perhaps he would use it to acquaint himself with his newest addition.

Slippy sighed apologetically. “One more bit of bad news though. I had to scrap your pistol for parts in order to complete this. I needed the extra materials to update the receiver."

The spartan shrugged. Compared to this, the loss of his magnum was inconsequential. Moreover, he could always choose a suitable replacement from the impressive weapons lock-up onboard the ship. Or maybe he would ask Miyu for a blaster, she seemed to know what size he needed. Though, Six was reluctant to converse with her. As of yet, they had not spoken since the incident, the cat keeping her distance for the moment.

In response to his curiosity, Krystal had told him that they merely had a talk to clear things up. Six was not so certain it had been that simple but had long ago learned that some things were best left to the imagination. He was just glad it was not a problem any longer.

With a few lingering words of thanks, Six exited the toad's workshop, pilfering the case of magazines that Slippy had manufactured for it. The spartan decided to return to the armory and practice with his new weapon. It would have to be calibrated and he would need to study its inner workings in order understand what kind of maintenance it would require.

In transit, he found Fay heading towards the upper decks, the young canine seemingly preoccupied with something as she hardly noticed him pass by. He was half tempted to engage in a conversation with her seeing as they scarcely interacted on a routine basis. But he refrained from pursing such a course of action, she would approach him in her own time, and he would do his best to be as non-threatening as possible, for a spartan.

*****

Fox studied his communicator, a half-finished plate of food sitting forgotten on the table as he scrolled through an apparently endless report. He was the only one left in the common room, the rest of the crew having finished up long before him. The vulpine was glad that Six was starting to assume a more active role amongst them, increasing the frequency with which he sat down and ate with the others, though he hypothesized it was more for Krystal's benefit than any other reason. If not for her he imagined the spartan would not even be putting half as much effort into mingling as he did now.

Though recently, they had been down a member.

Miyu hadn't shown up as usual, choosing to abstain from communal dining as she had for the last couple of days. The feline now mostly kept to herself, just like Six had not long ago. He could only deduce it had something to do with the clash of likeminded interests between her and Krystal.

Thankfully the hostilities between the women had ceased, at least while in the presence of polite company. He wasn't sure what occurred behind closed doors. It was their feud that gave him thought for the upcoming mission. Fox didn't know whether to put both women on the roster. He would never think they would intentionally try to harm each other, but with a distraction like that it was hazardous to put them together in a fight.

Maybe he could talk with each of them personally and figure out if he could. But honestly he was reluctant to take such a step. He wasn't so sure a heart-to-heart would be sufficient in ending their rivalry.

Shit, it shouldn't even be his concern in the first place. But as team leader he had to find these things out and patch the holes if he wanted to keep this group afloat. The fact they were his friends only convoluted an already complex situation.

Sighing, Fox drummed his paw on the table, his irritability filling the air with an intermittent, disjointed tune.

“Something on your mind, Fox?"

Taking his gaze off the device on his wrist, he looked up.

“Miyu? To what do I owe the pleasure for gracing me with your presence?"

“Hunger." The cat replied, shrugging casually as she sat down across from him, a tray of food in her paws. “Last I heard food was the best at getting rid of that."

Fox chuckled. It was good to see that she was just as snarky as ever.

“Who would've thunk it?"

“I know right?"

The feline picked at her meal for a few moments before she spoke again. “What you got going there?" She directed her fork at his communicator.

“Just some information Pepper gave me before we headed out, some estimation on the probable numbers of venomian remnant fleet strength."

“Must make for an entertaining read." She stated, brow raised questioningly.

“Oh you have no idea." He muttered through false joviality.

With a shared chuckle, they lapsed back into silence as Fox did his best to commit the data to memory for the upcoming briefing. They would arrive in the Fortuna sector within the day, though he was debating on whether or not to take one or two before setting out, give the team a little more time to prepare. The extra time wouldn't change anything and he hoped to get a little more work done around the ship.

One thing about running a small crew, it became a pain in the ass to maintain a ship of this size. Thankfully Slippy proved more than adequate in taking up those duties, but as of late the toad had been bogged down by a hundred little projects he had in various stages of completion scattered through his workshop. And with Fay around, they were just able to keep everything running smoothly.

Everyone had a duty on the ship, Miyu took care of the armory, though more often than not she was able to con Falco into doing it for her. Peppy managed inventory, food, ammunition, fuel, all the stuff needed to keep the team going, accomplishing this again with Falco's help. Rob acted as navigator, Krystal kept team spirits up, and he himself guided this motley crew.

Even after all this time, he wasn't quite sure where Six fit in, an awkwardly shaped piece in the team's grand puzzle. He supposed the spartan was their one man army, their indomitable trump card in case a situation ever went sour. As of late, he felt that their current success rate would not exist if Six had never arrived. The battle in Corneria's orbit, Zoness, Fortuna, Six was the key to victory in each of those situations. Without him, the end result would either have been far worse or plain disastrous.

The spartan made an impact wherever he went, whether on the field of battle, a passing conversation, or simply moving down the street. Whomever he touched did not remain the same. There was a substantial weight to his presence; the very air around him heavy with a power he radiated on instinct alone. Six was an unmovable force that no manner of bizarre circumstance could topple. When he spoke, it was in a voice that demanded you listen. And he was knowledgeable, far beyond his years. Yet all of things had come with a price, one the spartan had at last confided in him.

He had endured misery unlike any in this system had ever experienced before in order to earn these remarkable traits. And these psychological wounds ran deep. Yet he persevered beyond his suffering, unwilling or unable to do anything otherwise.

So it was not all that surprising that he was able to entice so much unsolicited attention. A vortex seemed to follow him, dragging in anyone that drew near, even though he remained so thoroughly blind to this.

Although. It seemed as if this was finally catching up to him. Heated emotions clashed as both Miyu and Krystal tried to reach the center of this mysterious spartan, who unfortunately was far too naïve to realize this. If he did, Fox was certain Six would have severed his ties with either woman in order to put it at an end. The human did not want others to hurt because of him. That much became clear to Fox in the time he had spent with him.

The lives of others meant more to him than that of his own, and this saddened Fox greatly. What life was that to live? Considering one's existence only as valuable as the price you could trade it for. This was what his people made him, and Fox was glad he had managed to escape such a dismal situation. Here he could hope to have more, to learn that his being was not something to give away, but something that enriched those he interacted with.

Six had already changed his life, gave him new confidence in his capabilities as a leader and revealed to him what any good man should hope to aspire to be. And Fox knew he had done so much more for Krystal and Miyu then the spartan had for him.

The spartan inspired people, motivating them to become better than their pasts. Everyone in Starfox had a story, a wounded history. Perhaps that was what pulled them all so close together, made them the mismatched family they had turned out to be. Maybe it was the very reason why Six was able to fit in as successfully as he had.

All Fox knew for certain, was that the spartan had at last found a home for himself with those that actually cared for him. And the vulpine intended to keep it that way, for Six just as much as the others.

After all, that's what family's for.

*****

The assault rifle in his gauntlets ran dry with a sputtering finality, the last of his ammunition just barely sufficient in shattering the onrushing sangheili's shields. Flipping the now useless weapon, the spartan swung it at his adversary with enough power to violently wrench the alien's mandibled skull with a meaty crunch, the gun exploding into fragmented alloy in his gauntlets.

As the Covenant soldier dropped lifeless scant inches from his armored boots, Six snatched the fallen plasma repeater sent skittering across the ground towards him. In the same motion he raised the alien plasma weapon, sighting another elite charging towards him, the saurian bellowing a fearsome warcry in its extraterrestrial tongue as it sought to plunge its energy dagger into the vulnerable armor mesh around his throat.

A flurry of plasma bolts cut the ravenous creature down before it posed a genuine threat. Six clenched the trigger, raking the weapon back and forth to mow down the horde of grunts suicidaly rushing his position.

Pain flared in his gauntlet, signaling the weapon's overheat mechanism so the spartan tossed it like a grenade, flicking the magnum in his left hand and firing the last round round into the overloaded gun.

Light flashed briefly, a wave of heat rolling over his shields as the makeshift bomb cooked a brute that had tried to claim the glory of his death for itself. Flinging the spent pistol, he crushed the chest of a jackal sniper trying to find a flanking position on the rooftop of the small military compound.

Turning to what little cover that was left, a howling screech crashed down beside him, sending the spartan tumbling to the ground, his shield's screaming in retaliation. Adrenal glands surging, Six vaulted forwards, barely evading the next shot sent hurtling from the wraith tank's plasma mortar.

He felt his spinal armor as it boiled. The heavy plating ripped away under the intense heat, the crackle of molten glass crunching under foot as he threw his legs into overdrive. Spying a grunt wielding a bronze and emerald cylinder on its shoulder, Six tackled the diminutive alien to the dirt, its bone snapping like dry tinder underneath his immense weight. Appropriating the Covenant fodder's fuel rod cannon, Six swiftly spun on his heels and emptied the remainder of the radiated clip into the purplish assault tank hovering towards him.

Verdant energy plowed sunken craters in the wraith's hull and Six utilized the handful of seconds he had bought to roll, a hollow divot of glassed earth left cooling in his wake.

Legs coiled with barely restrained power, he leapt upwards, landing on the hover tank's battered frame. Curling a fist he smashed it through the weakened plating to wrap his armored fingers around the throat of the brutish driver.

The faux simian roared in frenzy induced rage, yet Six only dug his fingers deeper, puncturing thick fur and leathery skin until he closed them around something soft and meaty, the brute's howls reduced to little more than a whimpering gargle. Wrenching his arm backwards in a violent shower of crimson gore, he relieved the ape of its means of communication. As the jiralhanae struggled to breath with a hole in its esophagus, Six reached inside with his free hand and maneuvered the tank. Slamming the large brightly lit button, he sent a blob of boiling plasma into a crowd of elites, a spray of severed limbs signifying his success.

Activating the grenade on the brute's bandolier, he leaned backwards and rolled nimbly off the tank, the vehicle detonating in a blinding display of heat and sound.

The corpse of a fallen marine reposed beside him and Six procured the fallen soldier's M45, his Heads Up Display showing seven shells left. Before he could scrounge any more of the corpse he was forced to engage the trio of sangheili that came crashing down from the bays of a phantom, a small crowd of grunts lingering reluctantly behind them.

_Weaving through the weapons fire from all three elites, he swiftly closed the gap between them. Refusing to waste even a single move, the spartan plunged the scattergun forwards, using it like a stunted lance. The barrel of the gun smashed into the lead elite's chest as he pulled the trigger. The point blank shot completely ignored the unfortunate Covenant warrior's shield, superheated buckshot blowing a hole through its stomach. Releasing the M45's pump, he caught the forend of a plasma rifle as it was brought crashing down and with a grunt of exertion, forced it to smash into the attacker's head, briefly stunning the alien. _

Dropping the M45, he grabbed the falling weapon and racked the slide, switching his hold to the grip. Now loaded, he ducked under a plasma round and rammed the shotgun upwards, lodging the barrel in the upper palate of the sangheili to his right, pulling the trigger.

His vision was suddenly blinded, visor caked in gristly purple viscera.

_The spartan gasped, staggering and snarling in pain as he felt a spear of white hot pain dig into his side. Arrogant, barking laughter to his left told the story, the last elite having found a second to impale him on the tip of its energy dagger. Thrusting his elbow backwards, Six silenced the chortling sangheili, its laughter replaced with hoarse cough. _

Still blinded by the previous elite's brain matter, Six used his ears to locate the final one. Shotgun not yet ready to fire, he instead threw himself backwards, forcing both himself and the surprised elite to the ground. On top, he continued to use his elbow, repeatedly driving it into the alien's chest until he felt it start to give. Priming his arm for one last hit, he hammered it down with as much power as he could bring to bear, driving his elbow through armor, flesh, and bone. With one last shudder, the creature ceased moving,

Groaning, Six rolled off the corpse and dug his bloodied gauntlets into Reach's charred soil, shards of glass filling his palms and slicing deep into his gloves as his fists curled with rage. On his knees, he wiped the sticky layer of dirt and blood from his visor, a nearly impossible task with gauntlets already discolored with gore.

_Gazing through the stained and cracked transparent titanium, Six was greeted by a crimson sky, the looming colossus of a Covenant supercarrier hovering overhead, its sheer size and scope allowing it to be visible, even in high orbit. The fields surrounding the desert compound were littered with a sea of corpses, both UNSC and Covenant in origin, the location for their last stand of defiance. The burned hulks of scorpion tanks intermingled with twisted longswords, wrecked pelicans and broken warthogs. _

A scarab lay shattered in the distance, a testament to the tenacity of humankind in the face of adversity. In the sky, the last UNSC vessel slowly fell to the surface, fragmenting into molten hunks of steel, its size denoting it as the supercarrier that had led the fallen world's hopeless defense.

Six felt nothing as he observed the fall of humanity, the last bastion in the protection of earth rendered into so much charcoal and ash along with its countless thousands of defenders.

_All he felt was a sense of inadequacy, no matter the sacrificed he had made, the end result was as predictable as the sun rising on the eve of the next day. _

Lowering his vision, he watched as a pack of elite's closed in, brightly colored and ornate armor defining them as zealots. The alien's slowed to a stop as they waited for him to stand, no doubt intending to fight honorably.

The spartan's feeling of inadequacy was exchanged for finality as he forced his sore, bloodied body to rise for what he believed was the last time.

_If he died, it would not be on his damn knees. _

_The successions of sharp snap-hisses signaled the activation of their energy blades, each of the ten aliens ready to spill his blood and gain the perceived honor they so desperately craved. _

Letting the shotgun fall from his grip, Six scanned the corpse strewn ground around him until he found what he was looking for. Reaching down, he grasped the hilt of an energy sword and thumbed the activation rune, the low hum of barely constrained energy emanating from the alien blade.

The foremost zealot gave a nod of approval as it stepped forwards, intending to lead the attack.

“Die well, Demon." Its words were in English, he having shut off his translator some time ago.

Six snarled, clutching the weapon tighter.

“ You first."

The ground cracked underneath him as he lunged forwards, their blades meeting in a shower of sparks. The spartan leaned back to avoid the arcing blade of his adversary, rebuffing it with a well-placed retaliatory strike.

Lashing a fist out, he decked the zealot in its mandibled jaw, staggering the hooved beast. A foot was planted on his chest, forcing Six back before he could capitalize on his momentum. He brought his blade down, hoping to sever the elite's foot but his effort was nimby evaded as the zealot spun, energy sword hurtling towards his helmet.

Even with his enhanced speed Six barely managed to deflect the tines of his opponents sword as they grazed across his shoulderplate, instantly dropping his shields. Crouching low, he avoided the following attack, swiping his blade at the sangheili's chest. It moved quickly, but was unable to wholly dodge the retaliation, armor ignited as the energy sword cut a shallow gash into its chest.

Jumping backwards, the zealot brought a four fingered hand to check the wound, it coming back covered in purple blood. Enraged the elite executed a flurry of attacks, Six scarcely able to counter them. The spartan was wounded, tired, and outnumbered, the injury in his side was but one of the many he had endured up to this point and it was taking every ounce of his determination to remain in the fight.

Desperate, he lowered a shoulder and charged forwards, his reckless maneuver catching the alien by surprise as he barreled into its chest with his full weight and knocked the sword from its grasp. This action was not without a price, the spartan feeling a jolt of pain as the zealot's blade scraped across his helmet, slicing through the visor and cutting into his check before it was sent to the ground out of reach.

HUD flickering in and out of focus, he fought for control of his sword as the sangheili had clamped its arm on his wrist, the blade hanging millimeters from its chest. His ribs creaked in agony as the elite's other fist crashed against the wound fresh in his side and Six knew he could not last for too much longer.

Its black eyes glared hatefully into his visor, the zealot no longer speaking in English as it howled in its home tongue.

Oh shut up.

_Craning his helmet backwards, he collided with the elite's mandibled jaws in a desperate attempt to disrupt its grip on him. Its hold only faltering for a moment, Six continually rammed his helm against its skull, crystalline fractures lacing their way down his already damaged visor, clouding it with his own blood with alarming frequency. _

Giving one last mighty strike, his visor shattered, showering the elite in titanium shards, half of which embedded themselves in the spartans face as he lost vision in his left eye. But the zealot flinched and his grip was lost, not a moment later Six plunged the energy sword into the alien's chest, pinning it to the ground as it howled in pain.

Before he even had the time to get up Six found himself deflecting the prongs of another zealot, the death of one of their own seemingly urging them to act in force. Compelled to retreat backwards under the heavy assault, he found the shotgun that had been discarded and wielded it in his free hand. Depth perception had taken a hit, but it did not stop him from flooring the next elite to get close, blood pooling through the cracks in its broken armor.

Powering a swing to his left he beat back the rush of another zealot, forcing his blade through its throat as he battered another aside with the barrel of the M45. The number proved difficult to fight against and Six was quickly encircled, fighting tooth and claw to take as many of the bastards with him as he could. Around him, a legion of Covenant soldiers waited, intending to finish the job should the zealots fail.

Another of the fanatical saurians dropped lifeless to the dirt, energy blade sticking from its heart. Not a second later one of its fellows joined it, upper torso blown apart by a close range shotgun blast. Soon the weapon ran dry and Six was required to rely on his sword, cutting down another as it thrust its blade into his collar bone.

Six staggered from the nearly fatal blow, blood spraying from an excruciating, gaping gash newly torn into his neck, he knowing an artery must have been cut to result in such vigorous loss of his vital fluids. Yet before the alien could claim its victory, Six brought up his own blade and severed the muscles in its throat. The remaining aliens pulled back to regroup, and Six did his best to keep his legs from buckling underneath him.

His gauntlets trembled, the sword shivering in his grip as he desperately tried to hold on with increasingly weaker fingers. Blood had all but rendered the hilt a slippery mess. Wasting little time the aliens attacked again, and he slew two more before he felt his death blow land.

Armor stood sundered as an energy sword's heated blade found purchase through his breastplate, impaling him on its ionized tines. Six roared in agonized rage, wrapping his gauntlets around his killer's throat and crushing the life out of the unlucky foe.

The presently lifeless elite collapsed, ripping the blade from the spartan's chest in its dead grip as he too sagged to the blood soaked soil. Six's breathing turned labored, his lungs filling with blood as the spartan buckled, using his last vestements of strength to catch himself before he hit the dirt.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a burning, excruciating ache from a score of open wounds that continuously bled a thick red river through the broken plates of his sundered armor. Such was his agony that he hardly noticed the vicious tug on his collar as one of the surviving zealots seized the nap of his neck in an iron grip, struggling to force his broken helm into the ground in an effort to see him grovel.

The spartan strained against the elite's control, unwilling to bend to his most hated foe. His reward, an energy dagger thrusted into his back, the plasma blade shredded his MJOLNIR and severed his spine.

With that sharp lance of pain everything flashed black.

*****

Six bolted awake in shock, rapidly lurching up from the bed and clutching his bare chest in bewilderment. Visibly shaken, the spartan glanced down, his trembling hand hovering over the spot where an energy blade had punctured his chest, the faint tingle of phantom pain lingering from a wound that had never occurred. The vivid events had been nothing more than an unpleasant dream.

It took a moment for him to realize that his breathing had noticeably spiked, almost as if he had just concluded a long term firefight. His chest glistened in the low light of the bedroom, his body draped in an unfamiliar layer of cold sweat. Six was astounded to feel his heart thundering in his chest, the discordant hammering having never occurred before now. Nothing had ever hit him so deeply and in such a profound way.

Six was both confused and alarmed at the jarring vision that had afflicted his sleep. Sitting in the silence of the shadowy space, he tried to wrap his head around the violently impactful dream.

This had not been the first time the nightmare came to him in his sleep, but it was certainly the most… intense, nothing like the scattered flashed that had inundated his sleep for the past few weeks. It had felt all too real, as if he had been on Reach not moments ago, fighting in some morose last stand.

The furred heat in bed beside him shifted as Krystal rolled closer, the slumbering vixen nestling up to his side with a soft purr, fuzzy muzzle pressing tenderly against his clammy chest. Her arms drew close, tightening her unconscious hold on him as she snugly pressed him to her breast.

The proximity of the cerulean vixen eased his unexpected surge of agitation. The sight of her peaceful expression, smiling even in sleep, did much to put his traumatized mind at ease. The spartan felt the sudden desire to wake her up. Wanting… No. Needing to hear Krystal's voice, to know that this place was truly real, that everything good that had happened to him was not the fever dream of a dying man.

But the spartan ruthlessly crushed that powerful impulse, not willing to burden her with his insignificant plights. This place was real, it had to be. He could not afford to think otherwise.

Six sighed heavily, eyes closed tight as he allowed himself a brief moment of weakness, his head sinking lower to rest in his unsteady hands. To think, that had been what he wanted before his stranding here, to sacrifice himself in one glorious and final conflict. His greatest aspiration had been to die for humanity, and he still considered it remarkable that his desire for that end had changed, and with the rapidity that it had.

He did not know why he was unceasingly beset by this reoccurring nightmare. Perhaps his subconscious will still craved to fulfill his previous oaths, to achieve what he had been trained his entire life for. It was not lost on him that what he now considered to be a nightmare was what he had once put forth as a reasonable conclusion.

What had changed such firmly held beliefs? The answer was as clear as day.

Krystal.

The spartan opened his eyes, startled to see the vixen's shinning emerald orbs scarcely inches away, her concern visible in those sparkling verdant irises. Six instantly felt ashamed to be seen in such a compromising position, quickly pulling his hands away and straightening up in the bed as the vixen sat up beside him. He could not be seen like this, especially not by her. The spartan was her protector and could not afford to show weakness. Krystal considered him an indomitable individual, and for her that is what he would be, no matter how he felt inside.

“What's the matter? Are you alright, Six?" Worry leaked from the female fox's tone as she studied him, a frown defacing her beautiful muzzle.

Six forced himself into an unnatural smile. “It's nothing. Please do not worry. I was just resting my eyes for a moment."

Krystal knew him far too well to believe that.

“You don't have to lie to me, Six. I can see and feel that something troubles you." She clutched his hand in her paws, wrapping it in padded warmth as she gave him a reassuring squeeze. “And I know that it has been for some time. So please, tell me. All I want is to help you."

This had been what she and Peppy talked about, and though the hare had suggested she remain out of this. Krystal felt as if that was not a choice she could make.

“I don't wish to burden you." Six turned away, trying to divert her from this topic, to little effect.

Krystal released one of her paws from its grip on his hand, using it too gently guide his eyes back, letting him see the open conviction in hers. “You have not and never will be a burden to me, Six. I love you and I will do whatever I can to help you, be it in battle or simply listening to your words. I am here for you and I always will be."

Six felt his chest constrict, an uneasy smile replacing its false cousin on his scarred visage as he finally understood why humans had always considered love to be the most powerful force in the universe. To know that someone like Krystal would be there for him when he needed her, it was an illuminating moment in his life, one that would change him forever.

Yet as content as he was in this one moment, he could not help but be afraid. If he lost her… he lost everything, purpose, want, happiness, the very will to live. Now that he had what he did, nothing else could replace it. He would lose far more than he had with Reach.

It was a risk, but one well worth taking.

No longer hesitant, Six pulled her into an embrace, the vixen purring happily as she reciprocated in the experience, tail coiling around them both as they sunk back into the sheets.

“That is all I'll ever need." For once, Six felt that he had a reason to look forward to an end to war. He could learn to accept peace.

As long as he had her he could change.

“Good," the vixen giggled, pleased to hear that. At that moment she could not be happier as all of her dreams were slowly coming true. “Now let's get back to bed. We have a mission tomorrow."