Suddenly the world around Tom shook with such aggravation and division that it felt as though he was being shredded in two, atom by atom. The anti-gravity in the corridor failed instantly and Tom lost Kate's grip, smashing frantically about as bulkhead became deck and deck became bulkhead. His world became tangled dangerously with limbs and bodies as he and the others scrambled to gain some sense of control. The scene was illuminated by an impossibly bright explosion of hot white light through the viewport followed almost instantaneously by a cooler pearlescent white that brought Tom to a sudden stop in mid-air and left him floating harmlessly. Tom's head ached uncontrollably and buzzed of radio-washed static. His mind was a blank television grey as he squinted his eyes to clear his blurred surroundings. The dry lump in his throat had now given way to a volcanic eruption. Tom coughed out as he continued to float limply, searching fruitlessly for the strength to bring himself about. "We're alive!" Graves roared from somewhere around him. The voice was easily recognizable to him, but it was loud. Too loud. The words bounced around the walls of his mind like a loose racquetball. He gritted his teeth and growled out angrily. The murky shadows in his mind eventually gave out to an opaque clarity. His eyes adjusted to the white blare of the viewport and the darkness of the corridor. He pulled himself along the wall, exerting each muscle almost individually, as he waded towards the light. [i]Survival always hurt[/i]. A strange and consuming curiosity overtook his mild thoughts. It was pointed and questioning, probing the parts of his brain that still rang and shook with confusion. He couldn't stand to keep his jaw clenched; he was overwhelmed with a burrowing desire for which he could not answer. He blurted out: "How?" "Slipspace mate. We jumped out." Graves smiled between flinches, padding at a painful gash in his head. The maroon ooze of blood stained his greyed hair as, floating, he dabbled with a white cloth to mop up. The hungry question resolved itself and, satiated, Tom's mind fell to a sleepy ease. He laughed. They'd jumped right out of the battle, impossibly out of the planet's gravity well, and were now on their way. If the Admiral didn't deserve a statue before, he sure as hell did now. "Slipspace," Tom said aloud, gazing out at the blank glow of the viewport. The word had a nice ring to it. [b]***[/b] Tom rubbed his eyes and yawned sharply as the final ounce of the day's excitement left him. He was back, back to duty and back to living. Countless hours had ticked by slowly as he moved about the ship performing status reports and checking up with the others aboard. The Marine detachment had been relatively small for a ship of this size, but the nature of such a naval battle had not necessitated a large complement. Tom sighed as the reports and numbers played over and over again in his head. He stepped inside a service elevator and, under the red glare of a warning light, punched in for the crew deck. The [i]Everest[/i] had taken a beating well beyond her grade. When Tom and the others had come aboard during a retro-fit, he had heard that the Admiral requested some upgrades to the armour plating; it had certainly paid off. The elevator reached its stop along one of the top decks. Tom exited and was greeted by Kate Williams. Her soft russet hair was done up in a tight bow at the back and her shapely lips curved under her button nose in a warm smile. She was a tough woman, eight years younger than he but more mature than he ever professed to be. As he aged less gracefully, she continued to look younger. On Jericho, she had seemed much older to Tom. She had carried herself well and with strength even when he hadn't, but she too had been hardened by the events of Jericho VII and the death of the squad mates she had grown to know and trust. Perched on the very edge of darkness, she and Tom shared a moment of fragility on a night where the end had seemed imminent. After Jericho, they married while on leave. The prairie town he had once grown up in, with its warm breezes and golden autumn leaves seemed so far away. Everything about that home was distant, like a ship sailing over the horizon and continuing ever out of reach. She had to be his home now. "How bad was it?" She asked him, searching his face. "Bad. You?" "I think we're lucky to be in one piece, we blew up an entire planet at close range," she replied. Tom had heard. Cole had fired a hundred nuclear warheads into the gas giant, destabilizing the planet and causing a massive explosion that engulfed the entire Covenant fleet all while the [i]Everest[/i] slipped out to safety in the first in-atmosphere slipspace jump anyone had ever heard of. It had been genius. "Straighten up soldiers!" Graves bellowed heartily, exiting the elevator behind them with O'Brian in tow. He slapped Tom's shoulder and motioned down the corridor. "Come on; let's see what the old man has to say." Tom could feel his temperature rise and sweat build under his olive green flak jacket as they entered the muggy and crowded conference room. He took off his matching green helmet and rubbed his moist shaven hair. At the front, beyond the some two hundred Marines, stood a large viewscreen with the tired but ever-inspiring image of Preston Cole. Cole was into his seventies and he made no effort to hide his age. He had short and completely greyed hair, small freckles popping at the top of his forehead, and sleepless baggy eyes. His face looked gaunt and yet he stood with no arch. He stood firm, his body still strong and full, looking out with a persistent and intense glare as he surveyed his crew and Marines on multiple decks. Tom had no doubt that Cole could hold his own against any of the Marines present. "I'm going to cut through the crap immediately," Cole began. "It's bad. We took out nearly three hundred of their top-of-the-line ships and by all accounts we should be dead. I'm sure we'll get a painting in some ONI office someday." A few Marines snickered ahead of Tom. Cole paused and clenched his jaw slightly. His face seemed to tense. He continued slowly: "What concerns us now is what comes next. We've lost decks 6 through 10 to exposure and two engine rooms to a coolant leak. We've lost both of our main cannons and our slipspace drive got fried by the EMP bursts our little nuclear light show created. We're in bad shape, but we're on course for a safe system where we can reassess and then come to certain... decisions. Assume your stations, battle-ready status. We'll be exiting shortly." "That was kind of ominous," Kate said conclusively. "Let's get down to the hangars," replied Graves, looking to each of the other three. The Admiral had something in mind, that much Tom figured. What it was, though, was anyone's guess. At least it looked like they'd be safe for awhile yet and he could finally rest. They'd been on alert for what must have been almost an entire day. [b]***[/b] The UNSC [i]Everest[/i] crashed silently out of slipspace into the dark void of space. The mammoth cruiser floated effortlessly, pulsing its only working booster in a giant nacreous cloud at its stern. The ship had gaping holes that revealed the scars of not just a single battle but an entire war. Shredded dark grey titanium plating was twisted and seared, protruding at unnatural angles along the sides of the heavy vessel. Sparks shot erratically from exposed wiring and conduits as a small collision occurred to the bow. Tom felt the hangar bay floor shake slightly under his feet and from the corner of his eye he saw a cool white flash in the hangar's large viewport. The [i]Everest[/i] had collided with a smaller stationary vessel. The cobalt blue ship was no longer than a UNSC prowler. It had a sharp bow and rounded stern like half a tear-drop, only its bottom had been carved out to form a parabolic midsection that gave the ship a distinct hook image. The crunching collision had been like a tank hitting a bicycle. The smaller ship split in two immediately, severed down the middle of its hooked frame by the relative force with which the heavy metallic cruiser had struck it. "Well, this is a surprise," Graves snorted as Tom approached the hangar's viewport alongside the ship's portside.