Lieutenant Kogen's quarters had a sterile glow which did little to dispel the chill that had settled deep in his gut. Hours had passed since he and Rook had plunged into the labyrinthine depths of ONI's Project Chimera files. Rook, ever the silent analyst, had presented the data with an unsettling detachment, confirming Wraith's darkest suspicions. Onyx wasn't just a mission; it was a carefully constructed trap, a testing ground where ODST lives were variables, their near-death experience on the last extraction nothing more than valuable "data points" for ONI's grand strategies. The revelation of other vanished ODST teams, lost to "anomalous environmental hazards," twisted the knife.

But now, it was time to brief his team. Shadow, Ghost, and Viper were already waiting in the small common area, their faces expectant. They trusted him implicitly, and that trust was a heavy burden. How much truth could he give them without shattering their already fragile faith in the brass? He had to strike a delicate balance: enough to prepare them, but not so much that it crippled them with doubt.

Rook stood silently behind him, a dark, unreadable presence. Wraith knew Rook understood. Rook, after all, was part of the very system that created this dilemma.

"Alright, listen up," Wraith began, his voice calm, projecting an authority he wasn't entirely feeling. He gestured to the holotable, where a familiar, crystal-like schematic of Onyx shimmered. "New assignment: Onyx. Primary objective remains reconnaissance—find out why it went silent."

Viper grimaced. "Onyx? Seriously? After last time?"

"Intel confirms an internal Covenant power struggle may be escalating on the surface," Wraith continued, deliberately omitting the part about the entire planet being a Forerunner Shield World, or the "temporal distortions" within. "This silence could be a result of that. Our mission is to infiltrate, gather intel on their forces, and assess the strategic landscape. We need to know what they're up to, and if it poses a threat to our lines."

Ghost's head tilted slightly. "Commander Vance suggested 'anomalous energy readings.' Are we clear on those?"

"The energy readings are consistent with residual Forerunner activity," Wraith stated, sticking to the broadest truth. He left out the classified data showing the true scale of the internal Dyson Sphere, its self-preserving Sentinels, or the ominous "Project Chimera" designation. "Likely dormant defense systems. Nothing we haven't seen on other worlds." He saw Ghost's brow furrow slightly, but the ODST didn't press. Ghost was too good; Wraith knew he was pushing the limits of believable ambiguity.

"What about the last extraction?" Shadow's voice was a low growl. "Those Brutes and Hunters popped up like they had an invitation. And that Spirit dropship was right on top of our LZ."

Wraith met Shadow's gaze, holding it steady. "New intel suggests an evolution in Covenant rapid-response tactics. Their ground-based sensors have become alarmingly sophisticated. The Prelate's assassination likely pinpointed our exact location immediately, triggering an automated, pre-staged counter-assault from nearby assets. They've adapted, and we got caught off-guard. Our mistake was underestimating their technological leap."

It was a plausible lie, one that shifted the blame to the Covenant's adaptive AI rather than ONI's manipulative hands. He avoided mentioning Rook's "experimental prototype" EMP or its specific purpose in validating ONI's theories. He also didn't mention that ONI had explicitly let them walk into that trap to gather data on said "technological leap."

"So, they're getting smarter, not just throwing more bodies at us," Viper muttered, weighing the new information. "Good to know. Means we need to be even quieter."

"Precisely," Wraith affirmed. "Our greatest weapon is still stealth. Rook's unique capabilities will be invaluable in bypassing their advanced detection grids and neutralizing their rapid deployment forces should we encounter them." He shot a glance at Rook, who stood motionless. Play your part, Rook.

Rook's filtered voice cut through the air. "My systems are optimized for counter-detection and localized electronic warfare. Capabilities significantly enhanced for this mission profile."

His detached confirmation seemed to satisfy the team. They were professionals. They understood adapting to a changing battlefield. The idea of smarter Covenant AI, though unnerving, was easier to swallow than the possibility of being pawns in their own command's schemes.

"We drop in standard pods," Wraith continued, moving to the next part of the brief. "Infiltrate via a newly identified seismic fissure. Rendezvous point is 0600 on the far side of the primary Covenant encampment. From there, we move to confirm hostiles, assess activity, and find out why the planet went silent."

The team absorbed the information, their faces hardening with renewed focus. The suspicion remained, a faint hum beneath the surface, but it was now directed squarely at the Covenant, not their own intelligence network. Wraith watched them, the weight of his secret pressing down. He'd protected their morale, their cohesion. But he'd also burdened himself with a truth he couldn't share.

We're going in blind in a different way now, Wraith thought, his gaze lingering on the holographic Onyx. And if ONI's pulling strings again, this time, only Rook and I will know it for sure.

The silence that followed Wraith's debriefing was heavy, filled with the unspoken weight of the new mission. The team knew Onyx was dangerous, and while Wraith had framed the new intel to focus on Covenant adaptation, the faint shadow of ONI's machinations still stretched long in their minds. There was no argument, no dissent. Just the grim, practiced acceptance of Helljumpers about to fall.

They moved through the Everest's sterile corridors with purpose, their boots clanking rhythmically on the deck plates. The air shimmered with the faint haze of atmosphere recycling and the distant thrum of the ship's engines. Their gear felt heavier, imbued with the unspoken anxieties of the impending drop.

Viper was the first to reach her drop pod; a sleek, personal coffin of hardened steel. She ran a hand over its curved hull, a gesture of familiarity. Inside, she checked the seals on her medical kit, the spare clips for her sniper rifle, and the tension of her safety harness. Remembering the last extraction, the near-miss with the Hunter, the desperate shot at the Spirit. Smarter Covenant AI, huh? she thought, a cynical curl to her lip. Viper trusted Wraith, but that trust had limits where ONI was concerned. She slipped her personal good luck charm—a tarnished, flattened penny—into a small, velcroed pouch on her chest rig.

Ghost moved with a predator's grace, checking the integrity of his stealth system's power cells. He performed a quick diagnostic on his optical camouflage, watching his form flicker in and out of existence in the polished reflection of the drop pod's interior. His kit was minimalist. Every tool designed for silent entry and silent execution. He still tasted the dust from that last extraction, the phantom weight of the Brute he'd taken down. He didn't believe the "Covenant adaptation" story for a second. His instincts, honed over countless black ops, screamed of a setup. He sealed his pod, the sound a soft, definitive thunk.

Shadow, ever meticulous, meticulously reviewed the updated seismic data for Onyx. He cross-referenced the newly identified fissure with known geological instability zones. The "residual Forerunner activity" Wraith mentioned felt too vague, too clean. He uploaded fresh atmospheric filters to his helmet, preparing for any unknown contaminants. He ran a final, full-spectrum diagnostic on his comm array, prioritizing secure, encrypted channels. If ONI was playing games, he'd at least make sure they couldn't listen in on all their communications. He checked the emergency beacon on his leg, a last resort for when everything else went dark.

Wraith, meanwhile, stood by his own pod, observing his team. He saw the subtle tells—Viper's fidgeting with the coin, Ghost's obsessive gear check, Shadow's almost spiritual connection to his data. Wraith knew what they were thinking. Wraith knew the burden of the half-truth he'd given them. But he also knew the full truth, the depth of ONI's callousness, would only cripple their fighting spirit. He slid his combat knife into its sheath. The well-worn leather was a familiar comfort against his thigh. He just had to get them in, get the intel, and get them out. Intact.

Rook was already inside his pod, strapped in, his helmet on, black visor facing the sealed hatch. He hadn't said a word, had done no visible checks beyond what was standard. Yet Wraith knew his systems were already fully engaged, his mind processing the mission parameters, the data Wraith had shared, and likely, the data Wraith hadn't. Rook was a puzzle, a supremely capable warrior wrapped in ONI's layers of secrecy. Wraith just hoped the layers wouldn't become a liability.

"All systems nominal," a flat, automated voice announced over the ship's intercom. "Deployment sequence initiated. Helljumpers, prepare for orbital insertion."

Wraith stepped into his pod, the familiar scent of recycled air and cold metal enveloping him. The internal clamps hissed, trussing him. He ran a final check of his weapon, feeling its solid weight in his hands.

"Comms check," Wraith's voice, now filtered through his helmet, came over the team's private channel.

"Viper, good to go."

"Shadow, green."

"Ghost, systems ready."

"Rook, engaged." Rook's voice, flat and unyielding.

Wraith took a deep breath, the filtered air tasting like a fresh start, or perhaps a final descent. The lights in the bay dimmed, replaced by the red glow of emergency indicators. The floor vibrated beneath them, a prelude to the violent expulsion.

Onyx, Wraith thought, clenching his jaw. Let's see what secrets you're hiding, and how many strings ONI's pulling this time.

A final, gut-wrenching lurch. The sound of explosive bolts detonating. And then, the long, silent fall through the void.