Uncharted | JOHN-117

02

Miranda's voice crackles through the intercom of my apartment. Her voice is laden with frustration as she recounts her conversation from earlier today with Admiral Margaret Parengosky who is the head of the Office of Naval Intelligence with the UNSC that personally oversees sectors two and three.

"Xeno-technology is my department, Mak. I should be getting sole access to the Madrigal object, not Halsey. All of our advances in shielding, active camouflage, and even slip-space navigation are derived from my research. I'm even making great progress in understanding the Sangheili language. It should be me untangling it."

"And you told her all this?" I ask her as I move across my living room floor to the kitchen space.

Biscuit, my Birman cat with her cream fur and captivating blue eyes follows me, her tail flicking lazily from side to side with anticipation.

"I did," she sighs in defeat. "Oh, and do you wanna know the kicker of it all?"

"What is it?"

"She said, and I quote, 'So much like your mother. Except you lack the polish,'" Miranda says, her voice taking on a deeper, more authoritative tone as she mimics Parangosky's voice.

I can't help but smile softly at her impression, though the situation is far from humorous. "Are you sure she's not in the same room as you right now? That impersonation is uncanny."

I open the cupboard where I keep Biscuit's supplies and retrieve a bag of cat food. The package crinkles as I open it which elicits a small meow from my furry little friend.

"Har-Har," she sarcastically retorts. "Trust me, if she were here, I'd probably have turned into a pile of ash by now from just a single glare... especially after the conversation we shared today. You know, talking to her feels like navigating a minefield sometimes. She's scary."

"Mm," I hum softly as I pour a hefty amount of kibble into Biscuit's bowl, the soft clinking sound echoing around the space."She does have that affect."

"I don't know, Mak," she whines. "I just wish she'd see that my research is as important as Halsey's. I mean, she already gives Halsey the lion's share of funding for the Spartan program. It's exhausting trying to compete with her all the time."

"It's not a competition, Mir," I try and remind her as I straighten up. Biscuit rubs her body against my right leg in a show of gratitude before moving to her bowl, eager to indulge. "We're all working toward the same thing."

"I know... I know. But, sometimes she makes it feel like one," she mumbles lowly. "It's hard not to feel overshadowed and overlooked in comparison to her."

"Just try not to take the Madrigal object personally. You know how Mom is, she gets tunnel vision when it comes to making progress in her work. She gets so focused on pushing the boundaries of what's possible that everything else fades into the background."

"And don't I know it," she murmurs wearily.

"Maybe things will change, Mir," I offer optimistically, placing the cat food bag back into its home and shutting the cupboard door. I make my way back into the living room, my bare feet padding against the floor. "Just because you don't have access to it now doesn't mean you won't have access to it later. Who knows what will happen? Keep pushing forward and I'm sure your time will come."

"You're right," she eventually replies in a gentle tone. "So enough of my ranting..." she trails off conspiratively. "Any news on Master Chief?"

I shake my head, even though she can't see me right now. "No, nothing yet. But silver team are geared to bring him in if necessary."