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- Exalted Member
Chapter 8
Closing the double doors behind her, Ellen Anders waved the Monitor over to the console she had previously repaired. The screen was still lit up with diagnostic data, but she was hoping to access the more intricate programs buried in the subroutines. As much as she wanted to return to the bridge, Ellen could read the seriousness in Alice's tone and granted her the fact that running around an old UNSC mapping ship unescorted while under Covenant attack was not a good idea. The docking bay provided them with a solid escape route and defensible positions, making it an ideal place for a last stand. If it ever came down to that.
Following the female Spartan's request, Ellen sealed them in, locking the docking bay off from the rest of the ship. The lone marine in the bay was patching up the pilot from Fox One, while the other pilot, kneeling at her side, did his best not to vomit at the sight of blood.
Frowning to herself, Ellen started for the wounded woman propped up against the forward landing gear of the dropship. Anders did take a few med courses during her quick transit through the various universities, and any help she could offer would probably be desired. Probably.
"Anything I can do?" she asked the marine.
"No, ma'am," he answered without looking up. He had just finished wrapping the last layer of medi-tape around the woman's thigh. "The wound didn't nick the femoral artery but it was close." He finally turned his head around and abruptly stood up when he recognized the Professor. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you."
Ellen's eyebrows met in partial amusement. "It's okay. Is she going to be alright?"
"Yes, but she really should visit the Med Bay." The marine's eyes defocused and he took a step back. "Uh, ma'am? Is that the . . ."
Anders looked over her shoulder to see Contrite Variant hovering at the console, watching their conversation for a distance. "Yes, that's the Monitor."
The marine worked his jaw for a moment. "Oh, so the cause of all our problems has a title?" He shook his head. "Well, you might want to keep it out of the survivor's sight. He keeps mumbling about that 'wretched machine'," he said using air-quotes.
Feeling a fresh wave of guilt being ushered into her her heart by the bitterness of his words, Anders just nodded. "Where is the survivor?"
He poked a thumb towards the the dropship. "He's inside. Got himself strapped in, ready for takeoff."
"Good, keep him there." Ellen looked down at the wounded pilot. "Better get her inside too, if we have to jet out of here in a hurry."
"Right." The marine waved the dazed Fox Three pilot over and the two men carried the injured woman into the dropship.
Ellen let out a long sigh and returned to the console only to find the Monitor keeping a watchful eye on her.
"Is something wrong?" Contrite Variant asked.
"You have to ask?" Ellen countered. She brought up a menu system on screen and started to access the security programs Tradewind had installed. "Look, there's a lot I need to fix here. I've dug myself a pretty deep hole."
"Why would excavation be an issue?"
"No, it's . . ." Anders clenched her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. Dealing with an AI like Serina had it its ups and downs, but they mostly worked things out for the better of the crew. She tried to return Serina's sass with an authoritative demeanor of her own, but dealing with 49 Contrite Variant was like telling a child genius to stop doing astro-navigation calculations and just go to bed. It some ways, it reminded Ellen of herself. She sighed again. "I need to fix the problem I created."
"So . . . redemption?"
Ellen looked curiously at the machine. "Sure."
"Then I stand by, ready to assist," the Monitor said with a renewed vigor she found a bit alarming.
To say this AI was odd was an understatement, but the word best summed up her experience so far. Returning to the keypad, she quickly found the security protocols. "Just be quiet for a moment."
"Oh," Contrite said. "As you wish."
Ellen rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder and got to work. She began to restore power to the archaic security cams stationed at key junctions and rooms aboard the ship.
Just as the fish-eye view into the ventral hatch room popped up on screen, the comm crackled to life. "Professor? Any progress?"
Through the fuzziness of the video feed, Ellen could easily make out the three Spartans and the dozen or so marines making their rounds over the dead Covenant troops. And there were a lot of bodies. Ellen cleared her throat. "I've got a visual on your team," she informed Spartan 092.
Jerome looked up at the opposite corner of the room, then finally spotted the security camera and nodded. "Good, can you lock down this room? I doubt the Covies will attempt the same entrance twice, but better safe than sorry."
Ellen pulled up another program, checking to see if she could carry out such a command from her station. As expected, an error message came up, alerting her that she didn't have authorization. One thought that quickly died out was to go grab Tradewind's acting-captain and have him enter his passcode, but she figured he should be left alone for now. Still, fail-safes should be in place. She keyed her comm. "The only way I can get those blast doors closed is if there's significant atmospheric venting."
The warped image of 092 shifted as he pulled something off his belt and hefted it in his hand. "That won't be a problem."
"And why-- oh, great," Ellen murmured when she recognized the fragmentation grenade. "That's one way of doing it."
On screen, the UNSC team filed out, while 092 placed a single plasma grenade on top of the pile of dead Grunts lying under the hatch. A moment later, with the room void of humans, a blurred, round object flew into the room, landing just behind the Uggnoy. With a blinding white flash, the camera's feed cut off, followed by a muffled rumble Anders felt through her boots.
"That should do it."
Ellen called up the lockdown program and sure enough, the hatch room's blast doors had closed shut. Anders was about to protest over the use of explosives inside such an old ship when static blared over the comm. She hastily tried to scrub the frequency and managed to limit the amount of white noise. She couldn't tell if someone was trying to contact her, but since she had just been speaking with the Spartan she figured Captain Cutter was trying to reach her. "Spirit of Fire?"
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"Gone?" Cutter searched the stars, looking for some hint of a slipstream entrance.
"No sign of the Covenant Cruiser, Sir," the sensors officer said, sounding confused. "It must have jumped."
James shook his head. There should be one way to verify.
"Professor, can you heard me?" James asked over the busy sounds of the bridge. All hell might not have broken loose, but people were still scrambling about, fueling a sense of panic. "Communications, can you tighten our transmission?"
The comms officer nodded and the static dissipated somewhat.
"I can barely hear you, Captain," Ellen Anders said. Oddly, when her voice sounded over the bridge speakers, the crewmen quieted down.
"Professor, can you get anything up on Tradewind's sensors?" James asked.
"I'll try," she replied, sounding agitated.
"092, report," he ordered, switching gears.
When Spartan 092 spoke, the bridge nearly fell silent. "We were able to eliminate the attackers, Sir."
Cutter passed up the chance to breathe a sigh of relief, not fully knowing how or why the cruiser had left.
"We'll regroup at the Starboard Docking Bay," 092 continued.
"Very well, Spartan." James glanced at the main viewscreen, finding it void of anything but rocks and rubble. But no Covenant ships were seen. Frowning, he turned to the sensors officer. "Did those Phantoms jump as well?"
The officer nodded. "It appears so, Sir. Either that or they returned to the cruiser before it entered slipspace."
Cutter's expression deepened. The latter would have been nearly impossible, and the former made the most sense. But why would they have left as quickly as they arrived? The Captain had never faced a Covenant force that ran at the first sign of trouble, let alone drop off a squad of troops to be slaughtered and then call it a day. The fact that their sensors were blinded by the debris cloud the enemy lasers had kicked up during the cruiser's escape made detecting the slipstream rupture out of the question. Usually there is a burst of radiation, but if the whole in slipspace was small and fast enough, it wouldn't render on their sensors even after clearing the dust and magnetic distortion the cruiser had created.
Anders' voice came over the bridge speakers. "Captain, of what little resources I could restore, there appears to be nothing on the radar but you."
James didn't like this one bit. The speed of the enemy's response to the EMP was amazingly fast, and if the Covies were to return, they'd sure as hell bring a fleet with them. And that was something Cutter did not want to stick around for. "Ground Team, the cruiser is gone along with the Phantoms." He sighed. "Prep for evac. We're not going to get ambushed."
Even through the comm distortion, 092's voice sounded puzzled. "They just left?"
"Not before leaving us with a few parting gifts," Cutter said dryly, scanning his eyes over the damage reports. "We'll bring the Spirit of Fire into the clearing the cruiser made and send some Pelicans down for quick transport off that ship."
"Captain," Anders interjected. "What about our reason for stopping here in the first place? We can still use Tradewind's FTL drive. It should be easy enough to remove."