Chapter Text
(Disclaimer: I do not own Halo nor Code Geass. They are owned by 343 Industries and Gorō Taniguchi, respectively)
“Talking”
“Comms”
“A.I. Talking”
UNSC Spirit of Fire — Anders Private Lab
The lights in Anders’ lab dimmed to their low-blue diagnostic setting, casting long shadows across the angled viewports that wrapped the former observation deck. Outside, the storm-wreathed planet rotated slowly beneath the Spirit of Fire, its clouds forming pale ribbons against the dark. Inside, the quiet hum of cooling conduits and stabilizer coils vibrated through the deck plating.
The AI core sat suspended in the center of the room—a smooth, metallic sphere held aloft by interlocking streams of magnetic containment. A thin fog of coolant hissed from a vent near the floor, drifting between scattered tools and modular consoles.
Anders stood at the primary terminal, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, eyes fixed on the diagnostic grid hovering above her display. Every line was green this time. No jitter. No phasing. No unpredictable pulses. After three days of reconstruction, recalibration, and more than a few inventive workarounds, she finally had a clean boot path.
Jerome-092 stood quietly near the main support column, watching the core with the steady patience of a Spartan. Dr. Ren Yao checked a secondary monitor, verifying harmonic stability.
Cutter entered with the same calm stride he carried into every crisis.
“Anders,” he said.
She didn’t look up. “He’s ready for a full reboot this cycle, Captain. Compression solved. Stabilizer’s holding at ninety-eight percent. Fragmentation will still be an issue, but he’ll be operational.”
“Let’s begin.”
Yao nodded and stepped aside as Anders keyed in the command sequence.
The lab filled with a soft rising hum. The containment lattice brightened. The core’s metal surface pulsed once—sharp, clean, controlled.
A voice emerged, faint but coherent:
“…Boot cycle initiated.”
Jerome’s visor tilted slightly. Yao exhaled with quiet relief.
The pulse steadied.
“ONI Reconnaissance Artificial Intelligence NCK-967-07… online.”
For the first time since his partial activation, the voice was firm. Fully formed. The clipped cadence of ONI-grade synthetics.
Anders stepped forward. “Nick, confirm system integrity.”
“Core stability at eighty-seven percent. Memory sectors forty-one through sixty-seven remain fragmented. Operational capacity at seventy-four percent.”
A pause.
“That will improve.”
Cutter folded his hands behind his back. “Good to have you with us, Nick.”
“Good to be functional again, Captain Cutter.”
Another pause.
“…And thank you, Doctor Anders. Dr. Yao. Your restoration work was… more thorough than most ONI technicians.”
Anders raised a brow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was intended as one.”
Cutter stepped closer to the holo-table, bringing up the orbital feed.
“Nick, your first task is simple: Analyze the satellite we detected in low orbit. Full spectrum. Origin, function, affiliations. Everything.”
A beam of light scanned across the AI core as Nick focused.
“Acknowledged.”
Data streams flashed through the holo-table—packets of telemetry, encryption strings, signal cross-sections. Nick jumped effortlessly between bands, slicing through early-2000s-era encryption as if it were paper.
“Processing… Satellite designation: Atmospheric Watchpoint JX-09. Launch records traced to the Holy Britannian Empire. Civilian-grade environmental monitor. Operational. Modern. Approximately five years old.”
Yao looked up. Cutter remained silent.
Nick continued, voice smooth and efficient:
“Global communications network linked: low-orbit Britannian relay web. Ground stations are active across North and South Britannia territories. Civilian and low-security governmental infrastructure is accessible.”
Anders leaned closer. “Meaning?”
Nick pulsed softly.
“Meaning, Doctor Anders… this world has an active, industrial human civilization. Technologically primitive compared to UNSC standards, but globally interconnected and politically complex.”
Cutter nodded once.
“Then we move to phase two. Nick—initiate planetary intelligence sweep. Focus on geopolitical structure, global powers, energy resources, and military potential. Quiet probes only. No penetration that risks detection.”
The core brightened.
“Understood, Captain. Initiating infiltration of public and low-sec nodes. Routing through civilian network noise to maintain stealth profile.”
Anders returned to her console. “How long?”
“Four hours for a preliminary strategic package.”
Cutter stepped back, expression unreadable.
“Then let’s get to work.”
The AI core pulsed again—steady, confident, alive—before diving fully into the world below.
Outside the windows, the clouds parted briefly, revealing a thin band of sunlight touching the planet’s horizon.
A world they knew nothing about.
A world that, starting now, would no longer be hidden.
UNSC Spirit of Fire — Briefing Room
The command conference room aboard the Spirit of Fire was quiet when Cutter entered, but not still. Officers and department leads took their seats with practiced discipline, datapads and projection holos arranged in tight, orderly clusters. Even at half-crew strength, the ship’s command cadre projected the same sharp efficiency that Cutter relied on for decades.
The room dimmed as the doors sealed. Soft blue lighting rimmed the table, and the panoramic display behind Cutter flickered to life with a rotating holographic globe—Earth, but not their Earth.
Anders.
Jerome-092.
Dr. Ren Yao.
OMEGA Team.
Senior engineers.
Navy operations staff.
Captain Mason Hale, patched in remotely through a secure microfeed—video only, audio masked through an encrypted channel.
Cutter took his seat at the head of the table.
“Let’s begin.”
The globe brightened.
Nick’s voice followed, calm and razor-sharp.
“Strategic Intelligence Package: Preliminary Planetary Overview.”
The hologram expanded, shifting into a layered model of global territories.
Three symbols appeared over each continent, marked in crisp ONI-blue:
HOLY BRITANNIAN EMPIRE — Western Hemisphere + Oceania
EUROPIA UNITED (E.U.) — Europe
CHINESE FEDERATION — Asia
Nick continued:
“This world is tri-polar. Three superstates dominate geopolitics, each controlling significant land area, military infrastructure, and industrial output.”
A highlight traced across Britannia’s territory.
“The Holy Britannian Empire is the most powerful. They control one-third of the planet’s surface and hold the largest resource base.”
A second highlight over Europe:
“Europia United is significant but politically fragmented. Internal disputes weaken cohesion.”
A third highlight over Asia:
“The Chinese Federation maintains population advantage but suffers from internal division among regional authorities.”
Jerome leaned forward. “Any global conflict?”
“None active. Tensions between blocs are present but stable.”
Cutter nodded. “For now.”
Nick brought up a dual-timeline display:
UNSC-Human History (Baseline)
vs.
Planetary History A.T.B.
The histories diverged sharply around one moment.
The Siege of Yorktown.
“In this world,” Nick narrated, “the American Revolution failed. The colonies never gained independence.”
A red line traced Britannia’s growth.
“When Napoleon conquered Europe, the British royal family fled to the Americas. Over generations, this formed the Holy Britannian Empire.”
Europia United emerged from Napoleonic consolidation.
China evolved into a regional federation.
No world wars resembling those in UNSC history ever occurred.
Anders murmured, “A completely different geopolitical architecture.”
“Correct,” Nick replied. “And highly stable… so far.”
The globe dissolved into a mineral distribution map.
A single color dominated: red.
“Sakuradite,” Nick explained, “a high-density crystalline energy resource.”
Yao raised a brow. “Energy output?”
“Significantly higher than early 21st-century fossil fuels. Its properties enable efficient electrical generation, propulsion research, and high-output mechanical systems.”
Anders folded her arms. “And Britannia wants it.”
“They already control the majority,” Nick said. Japan holds the largest remaining deposits. Their neutrality is the only reason this continent is not already at war.”
The room went still.
Britannia’s emblem expanded, overlaying a political and military diagram.
Nick proceeded:
Government Structure
= Absolute monarchy
= Emperor holds total authority
= Noble houses control regions, industry, and military branches
Philosophy
= Social Darwinism
= Strength through conquest
= Citizens divided by noble rank and origin
= Colonized populations classified as “Numbers.”
Military
= Largest armed forces in the world
= Strong naval and air presence
= Rapid R&D programs
= Strong security apparatus
= Active orbital infrastructure
Hale, through the holo-link, added:
“Their police forces are heavily militarized. Civil liberties are limited. But the empire functions—efficiently.”
Nick continued.
Economy
= Sakuradite-dependent
= Heavy industrialization
= Close corporation-state ties
The holo-table zoomed into a data thread marked RESTRICTED / ENCRYPTED.
“Passive infiltration uncovered prototype development within Britannian R&D networks.”
The Ashford Foundation emblem appeared.
Jerome leaned forward. “Weapons?”
Nick projected a wireframe schematic of the Ganymede chassis.
“Prototype armored combat frames,” he confirmed.
“Currently in testing. Small numbers. Powered by experimental sakuradite-based energy cores.”
He rotated the diagram.
“Mobility is limited for now. But potential exists. A decade from now, these systems could redefine surface warfare in this world.”
“Test pilot?” Cutter asked.
A portrait appeared.
MARIANNE VI BRITANNIA.
“Empress Consort. Skilled pilot. Extensive military aptitude.”
Two smaller portraits appeared beside her.
LELOUCH VI BRITANNIA — Age 10
NUNNALLY VI BRITANNIA — Age 8
Nick continued:
“Ruben Ashford monitors engineering progress. Their foundation is a major contributor to prototype construction.”
Cutter’s face remained unreadable.
The holo-table listed:
Marianne vi Britannia – High influence, military involvement
Lelouch vi Britannia – Son of Marianne & 11th Prince
Nunnally vi Britannia – Daughter of Marianne & 4th Princess
Ruben Ashford – Chief of Ashford R&D
Nick concluded:
“These individuals are only a part of Britannia’s technological and political trajectory, but the work that Marianne and the Ashfords are working on may lead to a new era of war. Monitoring recommended.”
Cutter nodded once. “Flag them.”
Then Cutter stepped forward, arms crossed.
“We are one half-crewed ship. Limited supplies. No reinforcements. No slipspace. No allies. No infrastructure.”
He looked across the table, meeting each set of eyes.
“We do not provoke Britannia. We do not engage Britannia. We stay invisible.”
Jerome acknowledged.
OMEGA’s team leader, August-099, gave a firm nod.
“Understood, sir,” from Hale.
Cutter issued his directives:
1. Consolidate the Island
“Hidden Anchorage becomes our foothold. Begin full expansion. Harden it. Fortify it. Make it ours.”
2. Establish ONI Operations
“Hale—start building safehouses and listening posts across Britannian territory. Blend in. No contact with local authorities.”
Hale nodded from the holo-feed.
“Already selecting sites, sir.”
3. Defensive Posture Only
“No offensive action until we understand this world’s politics and capabilities.”
Cutter let silence settle.
“This world isn’t ours. But for now, it’s home. We prepare accordingly.”
The briefing ended with quiet, focused resolve.
Surface — UNSC Hidden Anchorage
Dawn spread across the equatorial island in slow, humid waves, burning away the mist and revealing the controlled chaos of a base being forged from raw wilderness.
UNSC Hidden Anchorage was no longer a patchwork crash site.
It was becoming a fortress.
Two D82-EST Darters descended through the clouds, their engines scattering soil and mist as they set down on a newly laid logistics pad. Marines and deck crews rushed forward, guiding gravlift pallets loaded with essential hardware:
= polyceramic structural plating
= firebase node frames
= power-core modulators
= M5 Talos turret housings
= sensor mast segments
Meanwhile, above, the Spirit of Fire loomed silently in orbit, its shadow passing over the island as supply drops continued in clockwork intervals.
Three HRUNTING Mark III Cyclops exoskeletons lumbered through the construction zone, shaking the ground with each heavy step. Their servos groaned as they tore up root systems the size of tree trunks, clearing space for firebase expansions.
One Cyclops hammered foundation plates into the compacted earth.
Another dug trenches for power conduits.
A third hauled prefabricated Firebase support beams on its reinforced back.
Workers gave them a wide berth; everyone respected the crushing power of a Cyclops' footfalls.
Overhead, a formation of Dropship 77-TC Pelicans swept over the tree line, descending toward designated turret deployment coordinates.
As each Pelican flared into a hover, it released a heavy modular turret core—an M5 Talos deployment unit—onto reinforced soil.
The pods hit the ground with a deep metallic thud, unfolding in a burst of pressurized hydraulics.
Each turret locked into one of three preassigned loadouts:
Anti-Infantry
A Talos pod snapped open, revealing four high-speed rotary cannons, which spun up with a rising metallic whine.
= devastating anti-personnel coverage
= wide arc saturation
= excellent suppression characteristics
= Equipped with incendiary rounds
Their barrels glowed faintly as diagnostic sequences ran
Anti-Vehicle
Another turret deployed, unfolding twin M66 light railguns along its sides.
= hypervelocity ferrous penetrators
= long-range line-of-sight strikes
= optimized for armor penetration
Blue magnetic coils hummed as the system calibrated.
Anti-Air
A third turret deployed, raising paired Anaconda SAM pods toward the sky.
= multi-target lock
= rapid intercept
= mid- and low-altitude engagement capability
Targeting lights blinked to life in sequence as the turret performed a full power cycle.
Sensor towers rose above the tree line, each linked to the base’s growing mesh network. Engineers laid power conduits and optic cables under thick tarpaulin tracks to protect them from the wet soil.
On the beaches, Marines planted mines behind discreet markers.
In the inland jungle, construction crews built elevated walkways for rapid troop movement.
Aerial drones zipped between incomplete structures, mapping topography for the next wave of development.
Bit by bit, Hidden Anchorage was turning into a fully networked, interlocking defensive complex:
= overlapping turret kill-zones
= reinforced supply depots
= hardened bunkers
= elevated observation posts
= interconnected trenches and patrol routes
A practical, brutalist example of UNSC military engineering.
At the bottom of a newly cleared ravine, Dr. Yao scanned glowing crystalline residue half-embedded in the rock face.
The readings shimmered, unstable. Not local geology. Not volcanic. And unlike any UNSC-manufactured composite.
A Marine stepped closer. “That's the same stuff from yesterday, Doc?”
Yao lowered the scanner.
“Yeah. And the interference is consistent. Whatever this is? It’s deep. Much deeper than we’re equipped to dig.”
The Marine nodded but didn’t press.
Yao collected a sample, sealed it carefully, and marked the area for monitoring.
“Log it. Store it. And keep it quiet,” he said.
“We don’t have enough data yet.”
The jungle wind rustled through the ravine, carrying a faint, unnatural hum only the scanner seemed to catch.
Something was buried far below.
Something old.
Something waiting.
But not yet discovered.
As the sun rose to its zenith, Hidden Anchorage buzzed with life:
= Cyclops stomped across the soil
= Talos turrets tracked in smooth arcs
= Power generators throbbed like mechanical hearts
= Darter transports descended in clockwork intervals
= Marines jogged along patrol routes carved through the jungle
The UNSC wasn’t just surviving.
They were entrenched.
Hidden Anchorage was now a proper stronghold—layered, armed, hardened.
And it would only grow stronger.
Surface — Britannian Mainland
The freight rail hummed beneath Hale’s boots as it glided across the Britannian heartland.
He stood pressed near a window—an unremarkable businessman in a gray jacket and dark slacks, briefcase in hand, a forged wallet with convincing credentials tucked in his inner pocket.
Outside, the Holy Britannian Empire stretched before him.
Not as propaganda—
not as Nick’s data packets—
but as a living, breathing giant.
Past the glass, sprawling cities glittered in the cold morning sun:
= High-rise business towers dressed in marble and gold
= Sprawling noble estates with manicured gardens
= Industrial complexes belching white plumes
= Neon-soaked commercial districts where masses moved like currents
In the distance, massive banners bearing the imperial crest hung from civic buildings—winged lions, stylized shields, and the unmistakable insignia of a superstate that believed itself born to rule.
Hale didn’t react.
He watched like a ghost.
When the train slowed into New Victoria Central Station, Hale stepped out with the practiced cadence of someone meant to be there. His forged identity—Nathaniel Hart, mid-level logistics consultant—gave him free movement through civilian districts.
His ONI training filled in the rest:
= Footsteps matched local pace
= Eyes never lingered too long
= Posture relaxed but alert
= Clothing tailored to blend anywhere
= Expression mild, unreadable
ONI field doctrine:
Disappear in plain sight.
He slipped into the morning crowd.
New Victoria was a study in contrasts.
Massive billboards displayed smiling citizens beneath bold slogans:
“All Men Are Born Equal ”
“Morality Is Counter-Progressive”
“All Hail Britannia!!!”
Meanwhile, armored police units patrolled intersections—
visor-eyed helmets, polymer shields, compact rifles holstered at their hips.
Not military units, but something close.
Street-level chatter revealed a rigid caste society:
= Nobles rode in polished black towncars
= Commoners kept to sidewalks and trams
= Segregation was cultural, not just legal
= Resentment simmered beneath polite smiles and quiet tones
Hale logged all of it.
His route took him toward the industrial quarter—an expanse of clean, modern structures that concealed the empire’s technological core.
A single, wide structure dominated the horizon:
THE ASHFORD FOUNDATION — ADVANCED MECHANICAL SYSTEMS DIVISION
Just engineers, technicians, cranes, cargo movers, and security cordons wrapped around a state-of-the-art R&D facility.
Hale drifted near the perimeter, pretending to check his watch while a micro-camera embedded in his sleeve recorded activity.
He watched:
= Freight trucks offloading sealed containers
= Overhead cranes moving reinforced chassis components
= Security scanning every badge twice
= A fenced-off test bay draped with tarps and warning signs
R&D workers wore coats marked with the Ashford sigil—
a stylized eagle clutching a gear.
Hale caught sight of a man walking between escorts:
Ruben Ashford.
Gray suit. Silver hair.
Calm authority radiated off him.
Nick had flagged him as key to prototype combat frame development.
Hale noted:
= Every guard turned subtly toward him
= Engineers deferred to him
= His badge emitted a distinct encrypted lock signal
= High clearance.
= Dangerous clearance.
Hale did not approach.
He brushed past the area casually and continued.
Hale identified usable ONI sites as he walked:
= An abandoned textile warehouse with only one access road
= A rundown commuter apartment block with roof access
= A shuttered theater with a basement large enough for comms gear
= A courier business perfect for a dead-drop network
Each was tagged on his disguised datapad with a hidden ONI code.
Later, these would become:
= Listening posts
= Observation nests
= Infiltration launch points
= Emergency extraction nodes
For now, they were just pins on a map.
(Line Break)
At a corner café, Hale sipped a weak Britannian coffee while his datapad synchronized with Nick through a tightburst, encrypted connection.
The AI’s voice whispered in Hale’s earpiece—audible only to him.
“You’re in a high-density communications zone. I am routing traffic through you to mask my probes.”
Hale didn’t move his lips.
“Status?”
“Britannian servers remain unaware. Their encryption is primitive. Public nodes are fully harvested; low-security government intranets are partially mapped.”
A beat.
Their R&D sectors are accelerating. The armored frame prototypes are real. And they’re improving.”
Hale’s jaw tightened a fraction.
“Threat level?”
“Moderate now. Potentially extreme later.”
As Hale returned to the street, a massive convoy rolled past:
= Armored personnel carriers
= Tracked freight haulers
= Uniformed soldiers
= Nobles in formal attire overseeing the parade
People cheered.
Hale watched in silence.
“All Hail Britannia!!!” the crowd shouted.
The empire wasn’t simply powerful.
It was confident.
Their downfall would come—but not today.
Not by his hand.
Not yet.
Hale ended his day on a dim rooftop overlooking the glittering skyline. The sun dipped, turning the noble towers into silhouettes.
He keyed a secure transmission.
“Hale to Spirit of Fire. Initial survey complete. Uploading field report.”
A moment of static.
Then Cutter’s voice came through, low and steady:
“Good work, Captain. Stay dark. Keep your distance. We can’t afford exposure.”
“Yes, sir.”
The connection is cut.
Hale stood alone with the night breeze tugging at his coat.
A stranger in an empire of millions.
Invisible.
Unseen.
Precisely where ONI needed him to be.
UNSC Spirit of Fire — Bridge
Night draped itself across the hemisphere below as the Spirit of Fire drifted silently above the planet’s limb. The bridge lighting remained dim—cool blues and soft whites—illuminating the command consoles but leaving much of the room in quiet shadow.
Captain James Cutter stood at the forward viewport, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the world below.
A world that was human—
but not his.
Not the UNSC’s.
Not one shaped by the history he knew.
Below him stretched the glittering arc of the Holy Britannian Empire, its continent-wide cities glowing like constellations against the dark ocean.
Every light represented a life.
Every life represented a civilization.
And every civilization represented a potential threat.
He didn’t blink.
A faint shimmer appeared beside him—Nick’s holo-avatar taking form as a translucent blue silhouette, shaped with clean, angular features that spoke to ONI’s design philosophies.
“Hale’s data burst is authenticated,” Nick announced.
“Safehouses marked. Surveillance footholds established. No sign of detection.”
Cutter nodded once, still staring at the illuminated continent.
“Good.”
Nick tilted his head, studying the world with artificial calm.
“This planet is stable, for now. But political tensions are high. Britannia’s military-industrial complex is accelerating rapidly. Europia United is fractured. The Chinese Federation is brittle beneath its surface. Japan’s position is precarious.”
Cutter’s jaw tightened.
“Describe the empire again.”
Nick complied:
“Hierarchical. Expansionist. Brutally efficient. Driven by ideology and fueled by sakuradite. They value strength and unity over all else.”
A long pause.
Then Nick added quietly:
“They will not tolerate something they cannot control.”
Cutter finally turned away from the viewport, eyes narrowing at the glowing holo-table that displayed Hidden Anchorage’s current fortification progress.
“They don’t know we’re here.”
“For now.”
“But eventually?”
Nick’s avatar flickered.
“All secrets erode.”
Cutter leaned on the holo-table, fingers tracing the projection of the equatorial island. Cyclops activity. Talos turret status. Barracks deployment. Sensor coverage. Infrastructure growth.
“This world has never met anything like the Covenant,” he said quietly. “Never knew what humanity became out there.”
He exhaled.
“And they never will.”
Nick’s posture shifted, mirroring thoughtfulness.
“We lack the firepower for conquest. And the manpower for the occupation. But we have enough to survive.”
“Survival’s the first step.”
Cutter straightened again.
“Then stability. Then… maybe something more.”
Nick studied him for a moment.
“You’re thinking long-term.”
“I’m thinking realistically.”
Cutter returned to the viewport, watching storms gather over the darkened ocean.
“This world is on a knife’s edge,” he murmured. “Three superpowers. A resource they’re willing to kill each other for.”
He paused, eyes narrowing at the glow of Britannia’s continent-spanning cities.
Then, quietly:
“A government where strength is law. Where the Emperor preaches that morality is weakness, that conquest is evolution, and even his own children rise or fall by how effectively they destroy each other.”
Nick’s avatar flickered beside him.
“Your assessment is accurate. Their internal culture is shaped by competitive brutality. The imperial family itself is a crucible.”
Cutter exhaled slowly.
“And we’re stranded right in the middle of all this.”
Nick floated beside him.
“Your decisions will shape the UNSC’s place here. Whether we remain hidden… or become known.”
Cutter didn’t answer immediately.
He watched a Britannian satellite sweep across the horizon, its orbit clean and precise.
A primitive machine by UNSC standards.
But a reminder all the same:
They were not alone.
Not here.
Not anymore.
END CHAPTER