an ODST among Heroes.

S2-7

Melissa Shields marveled at the sheer scale of the Phoenix-class Assault Ship as construction drones swarmed over its hull like industrious ants, refitting the vessel with state-of-the-art systems. The UNSC First Reverie would be docked here for nearly two months, undergoing extensive upgrades to prepare it for a mission that was shrouded in secrecy. Melissa was captivated not just by the ship itself but by the enigmatic presence of young men and women in crisp white uniforms who seemed to move with quiet purpose.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she approached one of the workers nearby, gesturing toward the uniformed personnel. “Who are those people?” she asked casually.

The worker gave her a tight-lipped smile and shrugged. “Sorry, miss. Classified.”

Melissa frowned, her mind racing. Who were these people? They didn’t look like standard UNSC personnel, nor did they act like mere technicians. The air of mystery surrounding them only deepened her fascination.

---

March 2549

Commander Lucia Vickerson jolted awake at the soft chime of her datapad. Blinking groggily, she reached for it and squinted at the screen, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the seal of Fleet Command. It was marked One-Time Read Only, with a priority level she hadn’t seen since her more active days in the fleet.

If she wasn’t awake before, she was now, as her tired expression turned into one of sharp focus as her eyes scanned the contents. It wasn’t just an update about the First Reverie. It was transfer orders. The destination? A location so classified it wasn’t even named, just coordinates and a time frame.

“First, they take the First Reverie,” she murmured to herself, still processing the implications, “and now this.”

The weight of the message sank in as her mind began piecing together possibilities. This wasn’t just some ordinary posting—it was a summons to something big. Something critical. A spark of excitement flickered in her chest, pushing aside the lingering frustration she had harbored over her stagnant assignment in the fleet yard.

“Now this is interesting,” she said aloud, a rare smile curling her lips. She swung her legs off the cot and began preparing for what was certain to be one of the most significant chapters of her career.

April 2549 – I-Island

The warm glow of the setting sun cast a golden sheen over the sleek, modern skyline of I-Island, reflecting off the windows of the high-end restaurant where Margaret Parangosky and Lucia Vickerson sat. The hum of construction drones in the distance underscored the urgency of their discussion.

Parangosky’s expression remained impassive as she cut into her meal, her calculating gaze fixed on Vickerson. “I needed someone who wouldn’t be missed for this,” she said without preamble. “And you, Vickerson, fit the bill for Operation: Red Flag.”

Lucia raised an eyebrow, setting her utensils down as a wry smile tugged at her lips. “I see the UNSC’s policy on kindness hasn’t changed,” she replied, slicing into her steak and taking a deliberate bite.

For a fleeting moment, Parangosky allowed herself a rare, faint smile. “Be that as it may, Captain,” she said, her tone dry yet sharp, “we’re not exactly paid to be kind—especially not to the Covenant.”

Lucia paused mid-bite, her fork hovering just above her plate. “Captain?”

Parangosky set her knife down with a quiet clink and folded her hands. “I’m promoting you to Captain, Vickerson,” she said with a sigh. “At this stage of the war, I’m willing to take anyone with a pulse. That said, you’ve proven resourceful, and resourcefulness is something we can’t afford to waste.”