The Gallery
This topic has moved here: Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]
  • Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]
Subject: [FF] Halo: Lost and Found (A Halo Wars Epilogue) [Chapter 14]

Chapter 17



Fairly certain he was dead, Bren 'Rangdamee wondered why his body still ached. He thought that surely the afterlife was something more pleasant than his previous corporeal state, or at least be void of feeling pain. Angry at this new revelation, Bren opened his eyes to find himself in a room bathed in soft, yellow light. So I'm not dead. Bren didn't fear death, for if it was an honorable one, it would be a good end to his life. His faith in the Forerunners restored, the Ship Master slowly sat up, despite the nausea brewing in his head.

He was still on the lift platform he had used to escape the battle above, but now he was at the lowest of four levels of the Quarantine Zone as shown by the small readout on the lift's console.

Bren waited till the spinning of his vision ceased and he let his thoughts catch up to his current conditions. He looked up at the now sealed shaft that the lift traveled through and knew if he were to ride it back up into the fray he would most likely get cut down before he left the platform. Bren frowned, and with a rocking motion got to his hooves. He looked down to find his weapons no longer on his person and bent down to pick up the fallen Sangheili's Plasma Rifle. Bren also appropriated the dead warriors bandoleer and swore out loud when he noticed the stiff pain in his lower back. Grunting through the ordeal, he straightened up and tried to stretch his muscles as best he could.

Suppressing the pain, Bren stepped off the lift platform and walked towards the arched doorway that contained the source of the eerie yellow light. Knowing that a pack of Sentinels could appear at any moment, Bren was still relieved to find his motion tracker void of contacts. Wincing from the pain in his back that compounded with each step, he wondered if he would even be up to fighting at all.

Through the archway was more of the same glass-like cylinders found in the upper level of the Quarantine Zone, only these were larger and back-lit by multiple lights. Bren walked down the middle of the two rows of cylinders containing hazy, bipedal-like forms and soon found himself in the next adjacent chamber.

He had barely placed his left hoof onto the new tiled flooring when he froze in place. The circular arena's walls reached upward to vanish into a distant viewpoint Bren couldn't see. Countless containers resembling Human Cryo-pods jutted sideways and halfway out from the walls, like some giant cocooning hive. Large armatures with vises attached to their ends were folded up against four pillars that rose up from the center of the chamber. And placed in between the pillars was a two-tiered platform that pulsed with a green glow. Terminals situated on both lower and upper levels beckoned to be accessed.

A faint rapping of recognition in the back of his mind began to increase with each bated breath he took. A wave of excitement washed over Bren as he recalled the unknown fate of the legion of troops the Prophet of Regret had abandoned on a Forerunner shield world. Could this be where they ended up? Harvested by a crazed Oracle? Bren knew the shield world had been in this area of the galaxy, a fact his father had informed him of several years back, but he wondered if anyone in the Covenant knew of what else the sector held as far as Forerunner relics were concerned. Bren's father had told him how arrogant and blind the Prophet of Regret was, citing that the Hierarch had classified a number of systems "off limits," and it seemed to Bren that this station and possibly others were what Regret was hiding all along.

Bren looked down at his armored hands and frowned. But why didn't I think of this connection before? Has my hunt for the Oracle shielded my eyes so much as to not see the truth sitting right in front of me? Growling at his own incompetence, Bren bounced the butt-end of his weapon against his opened left hand.

He knew he had taken a great risk trying to extract the Oracle out from under the Humans' grasp, but the benefits of obtaining such recognition and prestige out weighed the possible ramifications involved. Even entering such a holy Relic as this station should have been taken with caution, but instead he had plowed his way onward to find a vanishing Oracle and more dead Covenant. Maybe the Forerunners never intended us to capture an Oracle, only to implore it where they were found: in Relics across the galaxy. Bren nodded to himself. That has to be it. Surely the Council could see that.

Bren 'Rangdamee straightened up to his full height, despite the glaring pain in his back, and breathed deeply the recycled air from his armor's rebreather. Bren had to inform the Council of this place. Even if went against a Hierarch's decree- the potential to better the Sangheili's understanding of the Forerunners was too great to pass up.

With sure steps, he made his way to the nearest terminal found on the lower level of the platform. As he walked, Bren raised his head up to stare at the vastness of the complex. There must thousands of pods. Though what is in them . . . Even with his limited knowledge of Forerunner glyphs, Bren quickly found the recall-release query from the last accessed pod.

In a smooth, fluid motion, the armature to Bren's right retracted from its pillar and reached out to grab one of the pods a dozen paces away. As pressurized air hissed out around the seal of the pod, the armature hauled its target out of the emplacement and gently set it down on the second tier, a stairway above Bren. He marched up the walkway and noticed the armature returning to its original position on the pillar.

On the second tier of the platform, a row of consoles with what looked like diagnostic equipment lined the entire back section. Smaller cylinders with varying shades of yellow and blue contents were stacked to Bren's left while the recalled pod was resting tall on a specialized holding clamp. A dais-shaped terminal was off to the pod's left and he started for it. But as he took his first real look at the pod itself, Bren noticed something peculiar about the hazy form beyond the glass. It was moving. "By the Forerunners," he breathed.

Bren got to within arm's reach before his hearts nearly leaped out of his chest. It wasn't some Sangheili warrior- or even a Jiralhanae brute- but something that made Bren's flesh pucker beneath his armor. Though only familiar to him by the frightful stories of others, Bren knew what was before him. Bipedal in origin, with tentacles for arms and an asymmetrical head, it was a sickening sight. Enshrined in the thick glass cylinder was a form of the Flood. The Infection.

The Ship Master lifted his gazed and stood gape-mouthed at the other containers too numerous to count. Why on Sangelios would anyone want to keep the Flood alive? As he circled around in place, Bren felt his head was spinning as well, confused at what the Forerunners had done. He quickly returned to the lower-level terminal and let the left armature retrieve a different pod from the other side of the chamber, but the result was the same. The chamber wasn't filled with his brethren but with the most vile thing the Covenant had ever faced. Even Humans were considered worthier adversaries.

A bitter taste was on his tongue. With stiff mandibles, Bren returned the pods back to their places and wanted to smash the consoles all around him. Why? Why would the Forerunners keep the Infection alive?

When the pair of armatures returned to their resting places against the pillars, the chamber fell eerily quiet. He Growled to himself and headed out back towards the lift. Bren didn't want to be alone with his thoughts for fear that his faith in the Forerunners would quickly turn to skepticism. What he wanted was answers. What he didn't have was the luxury of asking questions in this forsaken place.

He needed to get back to the Fleet and warn the rest of the Covenant about this station, to destroy it if need be. He wondered if he shouldn't try to do that himself. Thoughts of glory echoed in his mind.

Stepping onto the lift platform, Bren rolled the dead Sangheili off the edge by raising his hoof under the warrior's torso and giving it a forceful push. He glanced at the lift's controls and pondered his choices. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but not knowing any other way back to the waiting Phantom, he had little choice but to risk another encounter with the Sentinels.

He reached out to activate the lift, but his three-fingered hand paused over the controls when the passive Forerunner device equipped to his data-bracer came into view. He replayed the previous battle in his mind and the smallest seed of realization was fighting to take root in his thoughts. When his position was exposed to new Sentinels, they didn't fire at him. Was it because of this device? By simulating that which overrides security lockdown . . . is this what saved me? Bren closed his eyes and silently thanked his father once more.

But then, Bren frowned. Not only had the Sentinels violently reacted to the shattered cylinders, but they had purposely ceased fired on the Covenant troops. Would the rest of my crew think of such a tactic? Not even knowing what was resting inside the yellow liquid? If any of his brethren were still alive, he had to stop them before more Flood could be released.

Bren keyed for the first level-- the place of carnage-- and braced himself for combat, shunting away the pain.

  • 05.07.2011 1:38 PM PDT

*** *** *** *** *** ***


Sergeant Gregory Williams scratched at the hair above his left ear, relieving the itch he so badly wanted to be rid of.

"You okay, Sarge?"

Williams abandoned his task and returned his helmet to it's rightful place on top his head. "Damn padding's worn off."

"Don't make 'em like they used to?" Sergeant Miller chided.

Greg gave him a warning glare, knowing the fellow sergeant wasn't much younger and by putting an "old man" quote into the conversation was a quick way of ending one. "Everyone up?"

With a deep breath that seemed to bring Miller back into a professional manner, he nodded. "A few need to take a leak, but we'll be mobile in two minutes."

"Good."

Their trek to the central base of the orbiting station had taken almost an entire day, so the two sergeants had agreed to stop for a few hours for some much needed rest. The only problem had been to find an adequate place to bunk for the evening hours. Most ODSTs were use to either sleeping in HEVs or out in the open elements of some foreign planet. The warehouse-like architecture left many open areas that would be prone to enemy attack, had there been one. They couldn't even dig a trench to sleep in, so Williams had sent out a few half-squads to stake out the area.

After brief exploration, Parker's team had found what appeared to be a generator room. While it did house some odd looking equipment, it was sectioned off with a door that would provide the ODSTs with some adequate cover, should they need it. But it did leave those sleeping in close quarters with one another, and the constant night-watch shift change made Greg wonder if anyone slept at all.

According to Williams' calculations they were only two heavy doors away from the central base, but he had wanted his troopers rested before entering new territory. He only hoped that the next spire over would be a little less mundane. Although that usually means trouble, Greg thought soberly. Suppressing a yawn, he stood and walked out of the generator room into the main hallway they had traveled down for hours.

After a quick status update from the squad near the double doors, he marched up to where Miller was now standing at the control panel for the doors' release.. "All accounted for?"

"Affirmative." Miller motioned with his left hand down both sides of the corridor. "Alpha and Bravo ready to go."

Taking a deep breath and clearing his mind of the last remnants of unconscious fog, he nodded. "Punch it."

The double doors split diagonally in a 45 degree angle and retracted to either side to reveal what Williams was expecting: an enormous open area big enough to accommodate a medium-sized UNSC frigate. But surprisingly, the sound of the doors opening didn't echo at all. Must be some fancy sound suppressing technology. He didn't waste any time gawking at the vastness of space and led the two groups through the now opened doorway. But with each step, Williams found his gazed sweeping over every meter of the place with amazement in his eyes.

At first, the portion of the central base they were in looked like a boxy hangar with triangular rafters overhead, but upon closer inspection Williams discovered rocky formations framed everything. Even the high arched ceiling looked to be cut from stone and he wondered if this part of the station had been sculpted from a small moon.

Sergeant Miller came alongside him. "Where's Winters?" Williams asked.

"Already at the next spire's door panel," Miller informed, pointing off to their right.

Greg spied the trio of ODSTs with datapads in hand, conferring with one another. "He definitely wants to be right this time," he muttered.

"We all do," Miller said. "From what we know, these spires are pretty linear, so pinpointing the source of that jamming signal should be fairly easy from here."

And sure enough, Corporal Winters' datapad beeped an affirmation and he gave the two sergeants a thumb up. The similar-shaped double doors parted open and the three ODSTs herded through the doorway.

Williams looked out among his troopers and waved them on, feeling a renewed sense of vigor. He had no clue how long they had till the Spirit of Fire arrived, but for the fate of the crew aboard, Williams wasn't going to let them down.



*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***



Captain Jame Cutter tried waiting patiently for the lift to bring him down to Engineering and yet found himself drumming his fingers on the outside of his thighs. He had just finished up a briefing with his Shortsword and Longsword squadron leaders and was now on his way to meet with Engineer Andrew Prescott at his pertinent request. Not telling him any details, Cutter knew it had to have been either great news or really, really bad news. Drew was always one for dramatics. The Spirit of Fire was still thrumming through slipspace, so James figured it was good news he had.

With a final chirp, the lift doors parted and Cutter stepped onto the brightly lit Engineering level. He weaved his way down the corridors past several techs walking with their heads bowed over datapads and came to the control room where Prescott spent most of his time.

In contrast to Professor Anders' lab, Prescott kept his place of work neat and free of clutter. The three large desks that lined the left, right, and rear walls were empty except for the computer gear and the individuals manning them. At the center of the room was a simplified version of the AI pedestal found on the bridge. Prescott was standing there talking with Serina in low tones when he noticed the Captain's presence. "Ah, you were quick to get down here," he said lightly.

"It sounded urgent," James replied with a flat smile. He nodded to Serina and stepped to the pedestal. "Progress?"

Serina and Prescott exchanged glances as if either wasn't sure who should answer, but it was the Chief Engineer that spoke. "Amazingly so, actually." He pointed to a screen off to his left, James' right, and the rotating image of the Spirit of Fire's crest was replaced by graphical gauge readouts with all manner of electrical and quantum terms Cutter was only vaguely familiar with.

Serina led the explanation. "Sir, I've managed to run my own diagnostics on the FTL drive we extracted from Tradewind," she began. "I believe I can modify," she paused and seemed to consider her words, "well, let's just say I can get her going faster."

Raising an eyebrow, James leaned his head forward. "How much faster are we talking?"

"It would shave almost 36 hours off our slipspace travel time," Andrew Prescott answered.

James frowned, feeling oddly skeptical. "How is that possible? Drew, you told me the mapping ship's drive was underpowered to make our normal velocity through slipspace."

Prescott pursed his lips for a moment. "That was before Serina had an interesting idea. By allocating power from the Spirit of Fire's main reactor and with a quick rework of some capacitor stations, it's possible." He raised his eyebrows. "The only setback is that we'll have to lower the electrical output for other systems."

"Such as?"

"Environmental and illuminating systems," Serina responded. "If we combine barracks and ward off sections of the ship that won't be used till Weapons Systems become necessary, then yes, we can cut our Slipstream time by a day and a half."

Cutter folded his arms across his chest and nodded. It all sounded a little too good to be true. His ship now had a functional FTL drive with the onboard AI streamlining slipspace travel. Even his troop commanders were getting anxious at the thought of rescuing the ODSTs and Spartans off the Covenant cruiser. James had even been mulling over the technical readouts of Installation B-23 from Anders' datapad and knew the task before them wouldn't be as simple as a grab-and-go extraction."What are the risks?" he asked.

"Minimal, of course," Serina said. "The extra strain on the FTL drive will reduce its lifespan, but Tradewind's crew took very good care of it. It will get us to our destination as currently projected, but our return trip home would better be handled at a fraction of the power."

The very mention of "home" seemed to still the room as technicians at their desks paused their work. "Home" was where everyone wanted to be. "Home" was what they were looking forward to. "Home" was what kept them going.

James nodded again and looked over at Prescott. "Can you confirm all of this?"

"Sir, we've ran the numbers a thousand times and Serina's logic is sound. We'd still need to run a couple simulations on our journey back to UNSC-controlled space, as well as compare the navigation data we've obtained with our own."

Cutter unfolded his arms and gathered his hands at the small of his back. "One step at a time, Drew." He glanced over to Serina. "How soon can you implement this plan?"

"Anytime, Sir," she said with a smile.

"Will we need to bring the Spirit of Fire out of slipspace?"

"That will not be necessary." Serina shifted her weight. "Though informing the crew that their cabins could get a little chilly might be a good idea before we begin."

James worked his jaw for a moment. Even with the logistical nightmare of moving half his crew to quarter with the other, it would still give them the best odds to get to the Spartans in time. "I'm sure the sacrifice of 'close company' will be worth the cost to everyone." James took a half step backward. "I'll alert the crew of the plan, and once I get the word from the quartermaster that all are accounted for in their new barracks, you can begin."

"Very well, Captain," Serina said approvingly.

  • 05.07.2011 1:40 PM PDT

"And great work, both of you," Cutter added. After receiving nods from both Prescott and Serina, James spun on his heal and started back towards the lift lobby. So there it is. Two more days spent in miserable conditions to rescue troops that are in worse.

It wasn't a fair trade-off, but it was the best they could do.



*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***



Their steps more lively, the ODSTs made their way down the spire that housed the jamming equipment they so desperately needed to be rid of. Still with no physical means of transportation, they were left with marching on the hard hexagonal-patterned floor. The first few hundred meters of their journey were similar to their last few hundred meters of their exit down the previous spire. There was the generator room and the familiar arched ceilings that all spoke of uniformity.

Nathan Parker was growing tired of the scheme. As crazy as fighting on that shield world was, at least there were trees and sky and . . . His thoughts trailed off when the faintest waft of air entered the inside of his helmet, carrying a different taste with it. It was fresh. Fresh as a morning mist rolling off the fields of his long-gone Harvest farm. He raised his head and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this new anomaly.

Breaking formation, he trotted over to Bravo team's leader. "Sir, you smell that?"

"Smell what?" Sergeant Williams asked, keeping his gaze forward.

"The air. It's . . . well, it smells good. Fresh."

The sergeant finally turned his head to look at Nathan. "What?" Williams pressed the release latch on his helmet and pulled it off, revealing an oily mop of hair underneath. He raised his nose and breathed in deeply. As he inhaled, his eyes grew wide. Williams nodded but then gave Parker a frown. "Why would the air suddenly be better?"

"Sergeant," called a voice from up ahead in the formation. It was Winters.

Nathan watched Williams weaved his way forward through the soldiers to arrive next to Corporal Winters. While he couldn't hear what they said, Nathan could see Winters point in two different directions, left and right. Williams then held up a fist and the entire group of ODSTs stopped and took up defensive positions as best they could.

Nathan returned to his place on the left flank and resisted the urge to remove his helmet. He knew his own stench was pretty pungent, but the fact that he picked up on the change in air before most made him feel better off than his companions- as far as hygiene went. He glanced over at Toril Holmen and was a little shocked to see some of her long blond locks had come loose under her helmet and were draping over her armored back. I guess the short rest we had didn't do much. He looked around at the other ODSTs and found a similar pattern. For every haggard-looking soldier there was a stiff-backed, focused one to contrast. Nathan wasn't sure where he fit into that graph, but he hoped they could all get one good night's sleep before tackling whatever security measures were at the end of the spire.

"Bravo squad. Parker, Holmen, on me," Williams called out.

The clattering of boots and the rustle of hardened fabric on armored plates lasted for only a few seconds as the two soldiers joined the sergeant at the front of the formation. Nathan was the last to join them and gave a nod to Williams.

"Recon the area up ahead." Williams pointed down the corridor where it branched off in two different directions. "Winters and Palmer will take the left, you two take the right."

"Copy," they both said simultaneously and moved on in Winters and Palmer's wake. The other two ODSTs had already started down the left hall, so Nathan and Toril lengthened their strides to head down the right hall.

Without comment they turned the corner and came to an oddly lit anteroom. Pulsing green lights jutting out from the tips of numerous, meter-long poles on the walls and ceiling made Nathan on edge. The glaring haze was enough to limit their sight to only a handful of meters. The scent in the air become more clear to Nathan and he almost came to a stop when he recognized something peculiar about it.

Toril noticed his faltering step and looked over to him. "Something wrong?"

Tugging at the collar where his helmet met his armor, Nathan frowned. "It smells like . . . the ocean."

"I wouldn't know," Toril murmured and started forward again.

As they walked, the lights winked out one by one and the poles retracted like a hundred swords being sheathed. And with each step of diminishing green light, the end of the anteroom became more clear. At first Nathan thought he was hallucinating everything, but when the last of the glaring lights pulled back, there was no mistaking what was before them. The rectangular doorway framed at what first appeared to be an enormous static holo-image of some undisturbed valley back on Earth, but the gentle breeze rolling into the hallway was as real as it got.

Nathan heard Toril gasp. "What . . . how is this possible?" she breathed, taking a cautious step forward.

Keeping stride with her, Nathan walked up to the opened doorway and stepped into a full-fledged eco-system. It seemed to go on for hundreds of meters in every direction and swooping hills and streams traveled down the endless corridor of green grass, gray rocky outcroppings, and blue sky. Nathan couldn't see the source of such daylight-like glow, but it resembled what one would experience as the day was breaking. There was even dew on the shorter grass at his feet.

Of all the marching they had done to get to the central base of the station, Nathan felt like shedding his gear and armor and running off down the hill just to feel the freshness of the day hit his face.

"It's beautiful," Toril whispered in amazement.

All Nathan could do was nod and take in the serenity of the moment. The gentle rippling of the stream. The way the tall grass of the fields down in the valley swayed in the artificial wind. The sparsely clouded sky with its deep blue color. "It is," he finally answered. Nathan glance over at Toril and found her looking at him.

The confrontation the two had in the belly of the Covenant cruiser flashed before his eyes and he felt the guilt begin to eat at his conscience. In his mind he had rehearsed his apologies to her a hundred times and yet in this perfect moment he forgot them all. Instead, he went with his gut.

"Toril, I'm so sorry for the way I acted earlier." Even when he saw her take a breath to respond, he took a step closer. "I had no right to accuse you of anything and I wanted to apologize." His words all came out in a rush and his shoulders dipped to show her how truly distraught he was.

Toril was a long time in responding, but when she did, she sighed and let her gaze drift downward. "I'm sorry too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's no way you could have known what I went through on Arcadia. I think . . . I think I was getting a little too comfortable with the Spartans and you."

Nathan felt his heartbeat begin to pound in his ears as the softness of her reply poured into his soul, flooding it with warmth.

Toril lifted her head back up. "You get to know a lot about someone when you've seen them on the battlefield. You're a good soldier, Parker." She tilted her head ever so slightly toward him. "And a good friend."

As much as he wanted to reach out and embrace her, he exhaled slowly and nodded. "Thanks." He switched his weapon to his left hand and extended his right hand. "So . . . friends?" He drew out that last word, inviting her to agree or not.

But against every possible response Nathan was expecting from her, Toril laughed and placed her left hand in his. "Yeah." She turned to look out at the rolling hills and the increasing faux daylight.

Emotions were swirling about in Nathan's mind, but what he chose to focus on was not the physical intimacy he so desperately wanted with Toril. He joined her in watching the eco-system wake up from it's artificial slumber and chose to settle on the calming wave of happiness that filled his veins with a tingling sensation. He gave her hand a squeeze and found the same reaction from her. Happiness.

"Hey!" a voice called from high up.

Nathan let go of Toril's hand and snapped his head up to see Winters and Palmer standing on a stone balcony that jutted out from the glossy gray wall. He exchanged waves with Winters and the two high-altitude soldiers disappeared from sight. Nathan shook his head and hooked a thumb over his left shoulder. Feeling a little cheated that their moment was gone, he sighed. "Looks like this is the only way to go," he commented to Toril, his mind revving back up to their current circumstances. "Better go tell Williams."

  • 05.07.2011 1:41 PM PDT

She nodded approvingly and they jogged back to the rest of the ODSTs with the other two-man team joining them half way.

Nathan wondered if Winters and Palmer had been spying on them, but quickly dismissed the idea.

"Dead end?" Toril asked Palmer.

"Yeah, but the view was something up there," he answered with a snort to bookend the comment.

Pursing his lips at the remark, Nathan forced an under-the-breath growl back down.

The four solders came to a halt in front of Williams and relayed what they found. After conferring with Miller, the two sergeants agreed that they had no choice but to push through the oddly-placed landscape.

"Let's just hope there's no big drop off awaiting us," Miller murmured in typical antagonistic fashion.

Feeling more that completely whole, Nathan, along with Toril, led the ODSTs into the quiet vista they had just left.

"Everyone recalibrate their waypoint," Williams ordered from just inside the eco-system. "Looks like we've got a bit of hiking to do."

Nathan nodded and complied with his commander, only to find his waypoint to the source of the jamming signal to be dead ahead. They were in the home stretch but now in completely foreign territory. Anyone could only guess what kinds of dangers lurked farther down the spire, but it was something they had to do. And Nathan, for one, now had a new sense of rightness to his life.

He looked over to Toril and she gave him a curt nod.

Even after the team started down the hillside, he wasn't able to wipe the smile off his face.

  • 05.07.2011 1:42 PM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
  • user homepage:

Bungie.net member Since 2001

"A hero need not speak. When he is gone, the world will speak for him"
"You are the last of your kind: bred for combat, built for war. You're the master of any weapon, pilot of any vehicle, and fear no enemy"

:o Another great story. Keep it up.

  • 05.07.2011 3:26 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

For goodness sake... just amazing. The eco-system was a beautiful touch, also being a perfect environment for the two ODSTs to make up. And the slight feeling that something wasn't right when Bren walked into the stasis chamber section gave me chills.

For how fast this chapter came out, it's incredible how well done it is. Great job, man. Must.. have moar...

  • 05.08.2011 12:17 AM PDT

Author's note:

these next few parts contain subdued, adult subject matter. i did some VERY heavy editing from the original text and after communicating with the Admin, i kept it as "PG" as possible. there is a measure of "risque" talk, but i figured you guys (and girls) are mature enough to handle it.

again, read with caution and hopefully i don't embarrass myself.




Chapter 18


Deep in the bowels of the Spirit of Fire, the forward-most galley on the lower decks was sparsely populated. Aside from a few standing officers conversing near the galley's entrance, Ellen and Jerome found themselves alone with their partially flash-heated meals. Only a few emergency glowpanels illuminated the corner table, and Jerome wasn't able to completely make out the steaming pile of grub on his tray.

A rogue fork belonging to Ellen Anders poked at a rounded mass in the center of his food. "This is actually tolerable," she said quietly, rolling the object over on its side and exposing the crystallized frozen end. "You see? As long as you don't eat the uncooked parts, you'll still get your UNSC-required daily caloric intake."

Jerome let out a chuckle and pinned her fork to his tray with his own utensil. "Yes, and if you keep nibbling at my food there will be nothing left for me."

Ellen pulled her left hand out of her heavy coat sleeve and clamped down on Jerome's fork-holding hand. It was ice-cold to the touch and he yelped in protest. Taken aback by this tactic, Ellen was able to pry a portion of the round mass off and stuff it into her mouth before Jerome had even gotten his free hand out of his own pocket. As she chewed and made exaggerated "ah" sounds, she poked the fork in Jerome's direction. "You know, you might be losing your combat edge if a little lady like me can swipe your meal out from under your nose."

He pried her hand off of his and blew a deep breath into his cupped hands to bring back some of the warmth. "Then if the Covies start sending out their females with freezing cold paws, I'll put in a request for Compassionate Dispensation," he said with a muffled tone.

Ellen let out a laugh and returned her hand to her coat pocket.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jerome noticed one of the officers look over at them. The man's expression turned sour and he led the group out and down the main corridor. Jerome let out a sigh that spewed out a cloud of visible breath between him and Anders. "It's bad enough the galley's flash can only operate at a tenth of the power, but with the temperature falling . . ."

Ellen narrowed her eyes and smiled playfully. "It's your fault for hanging out with me down here. You can easily go back to your warm cozy quarters on the mid-level decks." She twirled her fork through a batch of hardened noodles and gave up when her entire tray moved with her twist.

Jerome smiled as he watched her. Since the previous day when Captain Cutter had issued the new bunking orders, he and Anders had spent a lot of their free time talking in the mess hall near the bridge, hoping the upper level officers wouldn't mind seeing the pair in a less crowded area. But the more comfortable they became with one another, the more secluded they wanted to be. This wasn't a problem for either of them, but sentiments in Jerome's thoughts began to call out to him to take it slow.

There was no doubt in his mind that if he let the present circumstances of companionship with Anders go down the slippery slope their emotions were teetering on, they would inevitably spend the night together. At first thought, it wouldn't be a bad thing at all. He wanted it and he was certain Ellen did as well. What could be better than two consenting adults?

But there was a growing complain coming from his conscience that was trying to tell him the consequences of how it would effect his relationships with Alice and Douglas. Of how it would distract him on the battlefield when the time came to pick up arms. All of these thoughts swirled together in a cacophony of rooftop-shouting dos and don'ts.

He just wasn't in the mood to listen.

The fact that he was able to quell his libido down in the Professor's lab was a miracle in and of itself. But after later talking through the incident with her, he had never felt more comfortable with anyone of the opposite sex.

Relationship building was new to him; with fellow Spartans, things just clicked. Jerome had trained with the best Humanity had to offer in the SPARTAN program, but nothing in the countless field manuals and simulations had talked about love. If that's even what this is, Jerome thought. He knew the fact that Ellen was almost seven years older than him would have been an issue for some, but it didn't matter to Jerome. Things just felt better with her, and it was different than the kinship he had with his Red Team members.

Ellen looked up from her tray and gave him a full smile. "What?"

"Nothing," Jerome said distractedly, as he pushed his worthless tray off to the side. He placed his elbows on the table and gathered his hands together, examining the cracks in his dry skin. "I like you, Ellen."

He heard her drop her fork and slide her tray out of the way. "Now that's rich, Romeo."

"Who?"

"Romeo. As in Romeo and Juliet?" She lowered her head down to catch his gaze. "You really missed out on a lot of culture growing up, didn't you?"

Jerome cracked a smile. "Some of us did. Others enjoyed that kind of stuff during their downtime." He raised his eyebrows. "There's not much time for anything else when the bullets start flying."

"Sorry," Ellen apologized. "Seeing you without armor sometimes makes me forget what you do for a living," she said quietly, as if her voice was coming from across the room.

"Yeah, well there's still two Spartans from Red Team in MJOLNIR."

Ellen reached out and placed her warm hand over his fingers. "Hey, we'll be there for them soon. Probably by tomorrow night, if Serina pushes it."

"I know." Jerome looked up into her big brown eyes and felt an emotional warmth pouring from her. It still struck him as odd that before he got to know her, Ellen was a one dimensional, cute-faced professor that had the Captain's ear in almost every major decision. But now, she was a personal, emotionally-sound woman that exuded good company. She was indeed beautiful. Without even thinking he pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her smooth skin.

Ellen gave a quick raise of the eyebrows in her typical humorous fashion. Her humor was something else Jerome found attractive, but he had never seen it displayed for others. It was almost like a private dialect between the two.

Jerome got up from the table and took both of their trays over to the washroom window. When he returned to the corner table, Ellen was already standing. "So what's the Captain having you do today?" he asked.

She rubbed her hands together. "Well, Serina's working on the secondary packets the Monitor transmitted to my datapad. I won't be able to analyze any of it till she properly translates the code." Ellen's gaze drifted upward, a sign of her doing mental calculations. "If I could make an educated guess, I'd say I won't be needed till the morning."

"Gotcha."

"You?"

"Cutter's holding a meeting tomorrow at 1100 hours. Until then . . ." Jerome led them out of the dim galley and into the chilly, empty corridor. "Cutter wasn't kidding about how cold it would get." As they started for the lift lobby, he looked over at Ellen who had pulled up her hood to contain the heat steaming off her head. "Where did the quartermaster stick you?"

With her hands in her pockets she looked up at him, lowered her shoulder, and pushed it into his side. "I do what I want, mister."

Jerome winced when she made impact with his ribs, but he curled his left arm around Ellen to lock her in place. She fit perfectly under his embrace, enough so that she wrapped her right arm around his torso. The mutual physical contact released endorphins in Jerome's head as his body was biologically making his mind up for him on how to proceed. "So where are you staying tonight?" he asked, trying to sound conversational.

"Some place warm," Ellen commented disinterestedly.

They reached the lift lobby and Jerome frowned. "Are these things even working now?" he asked, as he waved his right hand to the row of passenger lifts.

"Minimal power," Ellen said, detaching herself from him. She walked to the nearest lift and the door opened slowly. She entered the compartment and shrugged her shoulders. "Going down?"

Jerome blushed but he quickly recovered and noted the distance between them. There was the choice for him: he could follow the Professor into a night of passion, or try to focus on the upcoming mission at hand. The former would satisfy his multi-faceted urgings, and the consequences would be few and far between-- he told himself. The latter would mean a sharp mind for the battle and rescue op he undoubtedly would lead . . . But won't I just be thinking about Ellen?

He looked up at her bundled form, all warm and inviting. She wore a sly smile but her eyebrows were beginning to meet one another, detecting his uncertainty.

To hell with it!

Jerome marched into the lift compartment and Ellen keyed the door shut.

  • 05.15.2011 5:26 PM PDT

*** *** *** *** ***



As the lift descended, Ellen felt her heart beating inside her chest. From the left edge of her peripheral vision she saw Jerome returning the same look of hesitation. They both knew what would eventually happen but didn't really know how to gently break down the inadvertent boundaries one automatically sets up when intimacy is present. Ellen tried to be all smiles, all articulate and graceful, but this moment was so different than what she thought it would be.

She was nervous. And Ellen was pretty sure Jerome was as well. It was like she was a teenager again. Only this time a "first kiss" would lead to pleasures previously unknown. Wrapped up in her career and books and datapads and research sites had all postponed a relationship. She wasn't even sure if this was the fabled "true love" or not, but it just felt . . . right.

Going by what she knew to be true had been her mantra from day one, never really letting her emotions cloud her judgment. But this with Jerome . . . where's there a need for logic at all?

Ellen reached out and took his right hand in both of hers. When he smiled back at her she leaned her head against his shoulder. In return, Jerome leaned his head on the top of hers. In the simple gesture, Ellen knew whatever happened would be mutual. So what if this is one of those "tomorrow we might die, so let's sleep together tonight" cliches? At this point, she figured it was just coincidence. Or else, she didn't care.

When the lift doors parted Ellen pulled Jerome to the entrance to her lab on the Observation Deck. But he paused just outside the door and Ellen looked up at his frowning face. "What's wrong?"

"Is there heat coming from your lab?" he asked, pressing his free hand against the door.

Smiling, Ellen keyed the door open, backpedaled into the warm, dimly-lit room, and continued pulling Jerome with her. "I convinced the Captain to keep the Observation Deck with full power resources." She closed and sealed the door behind him. "I told him I needed access to my computers down here in order to fully sift through the alien data we've obtained."

"Makes sense," Jerome commented, taking off his coat. "Though it still seems a little chilly in here."

Ellen likewise took off her outer layer and took Jerome's coat for him. "There's still some heat loss from the surrounding bulkheads, but it beats being bunked with a random female marine." She threw their coats on a nearby chair and suppressed a shiver at removing her thickest layer of warmth. "You still hungry?"

Jerome cracked a smile. "I think I lost my appetite. No, I'll be fine, thanks."

"Okay." Ellen looked away from his handsome face and tried to find something else to offer him that could help make him-- them-- feel more comfortable. She spied her kitchenette in shambles along the far wall but pointed to it anyway. "I could make some coffee, if you'd like."

His smile grew when Ellen thought he noticed the sudden awkwardness of the moment she was trying to overcome. "Sure." He raised an eyebrow. "Would you mind if we listened to that Icelandic composer again? I liked it."

Ellen matched his expression and fished her remote from inside her lab coat that was hanging over her desk chair. She applied the settings to the audio console and warm melodies began to fill the room. She walked over to the kitchenette and began searching for the coffee packets hiding in the overhead cabinets. "Which do you prefer: Regular or Decaf?" she called out over her shoulder, not even knowing if she had any of the latter.

"Regular is fine," Jerome answered softly, his voice sounding much closer than the spot where she had left him.

"Well, we're in luck," Ellen announced, pulling out the last shiny packet of coffee grounds. She quickly filled the reservoir with water and started the brewing process.

But before she could turn around, Jerome's hands clasped around her sides and moved to gather over her abdomen. He set his head down on her right shoulder and gave her a single kiss on her cheek. Ellen felt the chill in her bones evaporate in an instant and she placed her hands over his. At first she was little taken aback by Jerome's aggressiveness, but the emotional and physical warmth radiating off of him was enough to make her feel right at home in his arms.

He landed another peck on her cheek and Ellen tilted her head to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. She closed her eyes to fully take in the sensations her sight couldn't achieve. His scent was that of his aftershave he had started wearing ever since the two had become friends. While his lips were soft on hers, his barely detectable, fast-growing facial hair tickled her bottom lip. Ellen could taste the saltiness of his skin as her upper lip met his. The only sound she could hear was the soft, graceful notes from a trio of violins in melodious harmony.

It was a perfect moment.

Jerome slowly pulled his head back and their mouths announced the end of their kiss with a light smack. Ellen opened her eyes hesitantly, not wanting the moment to end. But when she found Jerome's face a hand's breadth away from hers, he was looking into her eyes with the longing of a lover once departed.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, studying her face intently.

She lifted her right hand up around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. After a fresh wave of emotions swirled through her, Ellen dropped her head and hugged him tightly. Peace. The word bounced around in Ellen's head till she was certain it would never leave her waking thoughts. Peace was what she was experiencing. No war, no conflict, no battles, no arguments . . . no loneliness. It was something she could get used to.

A chime rang out and she lifted her head. "What was that?"

Jerome kissed the top of her head and laughed. "Coffee's done."

She laughed and squeezed her arms around him.

The night was only beginning.



*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***



Spartan 130 readjusted her grip on her MA5B and stepped onto the lift platform with Spartan 042. Douglas keyed the small control panel and they ascended quietly and smoothly. Alice worked her neck from side to side and shook off the tiredness in her limps. "I was beginning to think this station didn't have any lifts at all."

"Maybe it's only certain spires that do," Douglas suggested, looking upward. "But this should put us on the same deck-level the security alert pinpointed."

"About time," Alice muttered. To her it seemed too much time had already passed for the two Spartans to be of any help to the ODSTs. But the holographic image of the alarm was still flashing on her heads-up-display, so something was still going on up there.

When the lift came to a stop at its apex, Douglas and Alice disembarked and moved into the small hallway connected to the lift's ramped edge. The hall jogged to the left for a good dozen meters before ending in a sealed door with a single alien glyph etched into it. Douglas raised his hand over the release panel and the door opened up into a completely white anteroom.

Alice noticed the displacement of air and looked over at Douglas. "Negative pressure."

"This could be a medical lab or something." Jerome tilted his head in thought. "But why would the ODSTs head here?"

"Maybe they had no choice?" Alice offered, mentally recalling their debacle with the Monitor.

Douglas nodded. "Let's double-time it."

They ran down to the other end of the room to exit an opened doorway into a short hall. They met a sharp right turn that dumped them out into a T-junction. To their left was more of the same white decor, but straight ahead was what resembled the inner workings of a mining facility, all pipes and industrial-grade facets. But there was a watery blue force-field blocking the latter way and it brought the Spartans to a sudden stop.

"Great," Douglas growled, looking around for an interface panel of any sort but finding none.

Alice frowned and reached out to touch the surface of the field. "It's like water," she commented, running her gloved fingers along the liquid-like surface. But when she lifted her hand away, the blue ripples expanded and opened up large enough to permit her to pass through. Not even delaying to gawk at the fortunate turn of events, they pressed on through to the next portion of the new corridor.

Alice checked her motion tracker but found nothing moving within fifteen meters. Keeping pace with Douglas, she marched on ahead with weapon raised. The corridor was lined with glass prison cells containing remains of dead bodies they couldn't identify. While it was shocking, the discovery wasn't important to their mission parameters. "They're too badly decayed to be our guys, Doug. Let's keep moving." She catalogued the finding for a later time.

They turned the corner where the corridor ended and broke off into a lobby with two symmetrical staircases to the left and a single oval-shaped lift housed in the middle. Two rows of pedestals, half of them displaying murky liquid and shadowy forms, formed a pathway that connected the base of the stairs to a heavy door.

But everything else that was contained in the open space spoke of chaos and battle. Scorch marks covered every type of surface, running up walls and crisscrossing on the floor. The nearest row of cylinders had been smashed into one another in a domino effect, and the nasty-looking liquid pooled at each pedestal's base. A few crumpled metallic chassis were strewn about, but their design looked very familiar to Alice. "Sentinels."

"Just like the ones on that shield world," Douglas commented, squatting down beside one's remains. "Close enough, at least."

  • 05.15.2011 5:29 PM PDT

"So our troopers put up a fight," Alice concluded, as she scanned the area for any signs of threat.

"A hell of a fight." Douglas stood back up and took in the chamber with a wave of his hand. "Notice how there's no human casualties?"

Alice frowned as she looked out at the destruction. A few Sentinel remains were still smoldering but she couldn't find any human corpse. She noticed the bulk of the linear scorch marks was at the base of the steps. A defensive position. Alice looked over to Douglas and motioned with her head to the dual stairwell. "Going up?"

The two Spartans made their way to the base of the steps and Douglas chose the left stairwell. "More burns along the wall here. The majority of them went this way."

Alice nodded and kept her assault rifle raised in firing position.

The next level up was an open chamber complete with a balcony framed by tilted glass that surrounded the empty space on all four sides. Several rectangular sections of the hazy glass floor were raised to form what resembled to be observation cases one found in a biology lab. Most of the cases had been broken in the ensuing firefight, warped metal twisted by the heat of the weapons' projectiles. More scorch marks and burn patterns littered the place.

Beside her, Douglas growled. "No bodies here either."

Frowning, she looked down around her. "No bullet casings or empty clips." She looked up to Douglas who in turn just shook his head in an unsure manner.

He walked over to the nearest glass case and leaned over to inspect it. "What do think was in these?"

Alice shrugged uncomfortably, feeling a tingling up her spine. "Probably whatever was in the cylinders on the lower level." She took a step toward him but paused in mid stride when the faintest sound reached her armor's audio sensors. It was the muffled sound of a distant explosion.

Douglas' head snapped to look at her and he pointed to the small door at the far end of the room. The two Spartans weaved a path around the ruptured glass enclosures and as soon as they were within 15 meters of the door, Alice's motion tracker lit up with multiple yellow dots-- her armor's means of classifying an unknown object.

"Contacts," she bit out between huffing breaths. They came to a sudden stop and pressed their backs against the door frame, Alice to the left and Douglas to the right. By now the muffled racket of battle could easily be heard and they couldn't waste any more time. Alice held up three fingers and counted them down.

When she made a fist, Douglas keyed the door open and both Spartans swung around to bear their weapons down on the half dozen floating Sentinels firing off to the right, down a lengthy hallway. Presenting the pair of super soldiers with two-meter wide profiles made for easy targets, and Alice fired three short bursts into the nearest Sentinel that quickly brought the machine down in a fiery explosion.

Douglas swept his SMG fire across three different targets, quickly bring their shields down, and finished them off with a pair of M6 pistol rounds to their triangular heads. The last two Sentinels finally oriented themselves to the newest, most immediate threat, but Alice had reloaded and finished them off before they could return fire.

"Clear," Douglas announced and stepped into the long hallway. The vaulted ceiling reached upward several levels and formed a sharp angle at it's apex. Glowpanels at the floor cast the entire corridor in a soft blue glow.

Alice stepped over the machine rubble and checked the left side of the hall only to find a solid wall with a small hatchway two dozen meters up its face. "Clear over here," she said, spinning back around. At the other end of the hallway, nearly 40 meters away where it opened up into another room, was a pile of bodies, unmoving in the smoke of burnt flesh. Alice felt her heart turn to ice and fall into her stomach. "We're too late," she breathed.

After taking a few steps toward the mangled forms, Douglas froze in place. He was still as stone.

Alice could feel for him. They both knew their chances of getting to the ODSTs in time were slim, but to be this close and fail was something they had not anticipated. She came along side him and shook her head. But an echoing grunt from the room that connected off of the hallway came to disrupt her thoughts of remorse. "C'mon. Maybe there's more still alive."

With no time to question the source of the noise, they started forward. When they came to the smoldering pile of flesh, Douglas skidded to a halt and Alice nearly bounced off his left shoulder.

"Doug, let's go," Alice implored, giving a cursory glance at the seared bodies. But felt her stomach turn when she got a first real look at the pile. "Oh no."

Douglas' own reply was to reload his M6.

Alice bent down to one knee and picked up a charred, discarded Plasma Pistol. "Covies." She tossed the weapon to the side and flipped over the torso of a burnt corpse. While its armor had mostly melted into flesh and bone to mask its xenology, there's was no question what the poor soul once held as a body. "Grunts and Elites."

"I guess the Monitor didn't vent all of them off the cruiser after all." Douglas kicked at the putrid pile and found what he was looking for. He scooped up an Elite's Energy Sword and ignited it, the snap-hiss echoing down the hall. Another grunt reverberated from the room just a few meters away and Douglas extinguished the sword. "We better go."

Alice slowly stood, keeping her eyes forward on the opened doorway into the dark room. "So there never were any ODSTs here," she bit out with a bitter taste in her mouth. "It was the Covies that set off the alarms."

"They were not the only ones," Douglas added, lifting his SMG and pointing its barrel at the shadowy figures now assembling themselves in the doorway. "Incoming."

Alice raised her rifle and took aim at the newcomers. Recognition flashed in her mind as she instantly recalled the gangly, tentacled bipeds now creeping towards her. The Spirit of Fire's clash with the infectious beasts back on the alien shield world seemed a lifetime ago, and yet the threat was right in front of her. Alice's improved heads-up-display bracketed them in blood red and pulsed incessantly.

When four of them had cleared the doorway, standing shoulder to shoulder, they halted and the ground at their feet began to crawl. Smaller, bulbous squid head-like creatures poured into the hallway, too numerous to count. Alice didn't waste any time and opened fire, spraying her rounds back and forth over the wave of enemies. Likewise, Douglas fired from the hip with his SMG while aiming his pistol at the taller, stoic forms. As if the sudden M6 rounds piercing through pale brown flesh was finally a reason to enter the fight, the tentacled bipeds leaped forward.

Instinctively Alice took a few cautious steps backward, trying to keep the advantage a range weapon wielded. But the parasites jumped with amazing strength and landed a mere meter in front of her. As Alice reached for her fully loaded pistol, she knew it was too late.

"Get back!" With blinding speed, Douglas pulled the Energy Sword from the holder on his hip, ignited the blade, and slashed through the three nearest crouching infections.

The last alien form launched a slimy tentacle at Alice and it wrapped around her left forearm. Her augmented muscles contracted at the elbow and she pulled the disgusting figure toward her. Letting go of her MA5B, she landed a forceful punch with her right hand that ripped straight through the infection's decaying chest cavity. The form immediately slacked and wilted to the ground in a heap, leaving Alice's arms covered in brown goop.

  • 05.15.2011 5:31 PM PDT


Beside her, Douglas swung the Energy Sword along the ground, mincing the half dozen bulbous forms crawling toward them. In several swift motions, Alice bent down, pulled out a fresh ammo clip, picked up her rifle and reloaded it. When it came to combat, nothing could match two fully-focused Spartans-- except maybe three fully-focused Spartans. Alice cleared the last of the smaller creatures with two long bursts while Douglas ran his blade through a twitching biped form sprawled out at their feet.

"Clear, for now, " Alice huffed.

Douglas deactivated the blade and rumbled a curse. "This was a complete waste of time." He shook his head and kicked an Elite carcass for good measure. "We should have gone straight to the cruiser, Alice."

She wordlessly nodded. Bile burned in her throat as she realized it was equally both their faults. In all the madness of being dragged every which way by Contrite Variant, they had easily mistaken the cause of the alarms to be their fellow UNSC soldiers. Granted, the Monitor prompted a lot those conclusions. "Well, there's no sense in lingering."

"Yeah," Douglas muttered. As he reloaded his SMG, he took several steps forward to look into the adjacent room. "Holy sh--"

An audible beep and a flash of red on her HUD cut off his swear, as every overlaying line that framed the walls, doorway, and ceiling started flashing in tandem. She narrowed her eyes and peered through the doorway Douglas had just pulled back from. There was a sea of red-bracketed forms swarming toward them. A flood. "Holy sh--"

"Come on!" Douglas belted out, sprint past her, back the way they had come.

Alice spun on her heel and quickly caught up with him. A blur of motion at the top of her periphery caused her to tilt her head up as she ran. The small hatch on the upper portion of the wall was open and out poured four more Sentinels. "Just ignore them!" she called out, hoping the machines would avoid the Spartans for lack of participation in the engagement.

Douglas growled but holstered his bladed weapon and increased his speed. Alice could understand his frustration. When the Spirit of Fire had traversed through the crust-layer of the shield world, Sergeant Forge and the Spartans had stayed out on the hull to fend off both Sentinels and the infection forms. Douglas had taken a blast to the right thigh from on of those floating machines and it nearly pierced his armor. And seeing as how the Monitor was so closely linked to the Sentinels, it's no wonder Doug couldn't stand Contrite Variant.

When the pack of Sentinels swooped down, the two Spartans tucked and leaped forward, diving below the firing beams of energy. When Douglas and Alice got back to their feet, they were at the exit. Alice risked one last glance down the hallway and shuddered at the sight. The Sentinels had no chance at the multitude of enemies who were now taking up the leftover plasma weapons from the smoldering pile of Covenant. She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder pull her through the doorway and Douglas keyed the door shut.

In turn, Alice rammed the butt-end of her MA5B down on the simple control panel and it gave an electrical buzz as the door locked in place. "Don't know how long that will hold 'em."

They took off down the chamber, weaving through the shattered glass containers, and Alice frowned. "I bet every one of these cases had those squid things in them."

"And you notice how the Sentinels didn't fire at us until we thinned their number?" They reached the far end of the room and the door opened automatically for them. Douglas continued as they headed back towards the original lift they came up on. "My bet is that the Covies figured those slimy creatures could slow the Sentinels down long enough for them to escape."

"But the Covies ended up just going deeper into the installation."

They flew down the cell block-style corridor and soon encountered the energy wall. But like the doors behind them, it parted and they went straight through the arched opening.

The pulsing outline on her HUD was still going, but now a row of unfamiliar symbols lined the bottom of her view next to her motion tracker. "Uh, Doug?"

"I see it." He slowed down as they navigated through the line of rooms and closed doors. "What do you think it is?"

Keeping most of her attention on the path in front of her, Alice gave another quick glance at the symbols.

One of them vanished. "It's a countdown," she breathed.

"Countdown to what?" Douglas asked with gravel in his voice.

She reached her arm out and slowed Douglas down even more. "Can you figure out if we can access the map of this installation as an overview of the entire thing?" Fear started to creep it's way into her heart with each second that passed.

"Uh, yeah," he replied anxiously. He brought his left hand up to touch the side of his helmet and tilted his head down, trying to access his armor's visual settings. "There, you should see what I see."

An image superimposed itself on her visor and the installation took shape. The base was a solid blue while the spires branching up and down were in yellow. But a single spire, the one they were currently on, was pulsing red. At the joint where the spire met the base of the installation was a honeycomb-like ring that flickered with the same string of symbols floating beside it. She gasped when the realization hit her, but Douglas spoke her own thoughts out loud.

"I think it's not too far of a stretch to say that that ring of hexagons is a failsafe device," Douglas offered. "Something goes wrong on a spire and boom, the rest of the station is saved."

"I agree." Alice knew the fastest way back had to have been the way they had come, but didn't know if they could make it in time. "We better hurry."

Douglas switched their heads-up-displays back to the flickering outline mode and he inhaled sharply. "Did you see that blip?"

"What?" Alice asked, starting for the last sealed door before the lift.

"I thought I saw a red contact on my motion tracker," he said, shaking his head.

"Maybe a Covie made it out?"

"He's on his own, now."

  • 05.15.2011 5:31 PM PDT

"I will show you how a true Prussian officer fights!"

"And i will show you where the iron crosses grow..."

- "Cross of Iron"

Great job. I can only ask for more lol.

  • 05.15.2011 6:05 PM PDT

Am I supposed to write something funny here?

Another excellent chapter.




Must.

Have.

More.

  • 05.15.2011 10:41 PM PDT

Incredible work!

  • 05.16.2011 7:56 AM PDT

Been following this on a fan-fiction website, it's a great story! Fairly realistic (in the Halo Universe) love the character development, the relationships between characters (especially that of the Spartan team). The ending was good, I will follow some of your future stories I'm sure!

  • 05.16.2011 11:32 AM PDT

thank you so much for the kind words, guys.

and yeah, i'm actually writing the last chapter/Epilogue right now. i'll try to post more chapters here very quickly.
all in all it is 25/26 Chapters in length + a rather descriptive Epilogue, should i chose to post it. i'm considering keeping it for the first chapter of the next installment.


...but i'm feeling generous...

  • 05.16.2011 1:56 PM PDT

Chapter 19


Deactivating his cloaking device, Bren breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He was fortunate enough to hear the two Demons well before they could have spotted him. Whenever they ran their armor clanked an unholy cadence, especially on a hardened surface.

When Bren had arrived at the previous battle scene on the first Quarantine Zone level, he only had a few seconds to examine the engagement zone before hearing trodden footsteps. He had quickly activated his armor's cloaking device and sunk back into the shadows at the far end of the room. Even in his pained condition, he knew he might be able to bring down one Demon but not two. He had no idea why they would come to this forsaken portion of the Relic, but Demons had a tendency to find trouble wherever it resided.

As the two Human super soldiers entered the room they conversed briefly before continuing up the stairs. Bren frowned and considered his options. He could go up after them, lurking in their wake to eventually find out what happened to the rest of his troopers, or he could make a break for it and head back to the waiting Phantom. If it's still there. Honor dictated the former, but the immediacy of the moment leaned him toward the latter.

Realizing that matched against the Sentinels and two Demons would spell certain doom for him, Bren shook his head and started for the way back out. When he reached the watery, blue energy field he raised his left forearm and the passive device clipped to his data-bracer parted an opening for him to pass through.

As he stepped into the T-junction the glowpanels framing the walls flickered briefly before beginning to pulse a light red hue. They quickly shaded back to their original blue, but not before a feeling of dread encased around Bren's thoughts. He didn't know what the true meaning behind the lighted message was, but it was a universal notion that "red" generally meant something bad.

And to compound the problem, his cloaking device abruptly cut off, leaving him with a crackling hiss in his ears. He cursed the stubborn technology and shut off the malfunctioning device. He was no longer invisible to the Demons; he needed to get moving.

With the pain in his back increasing with each step, he hobbled along the familiar arched hallways at half his normal pace, hoping that the Demons wouldn't catch wind of the caution the station had just alerted him of. Every hallway he turned down he felt would be his last, as his memory failed him on how many turns it would take to lead him back to the hangar.

As he hurried on, the glowpanels lining the upper portions of the walls on the fifth hallway started blinked as one constant red pulse, like the heartbeat of a Human. A final alert?

Time was running out.

Bren worked his mandibles in worry and forced himself to hobble faster despite the agony brewing in his back.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Alice impatiently drummed her fingers against the outsides of her thighs, as the lift began to slow down towards their destination. C'mon, c'mon. She checked the diminishing row of symbols at the bottom of her visor once more. "Doug," she cautioned.

"I know," he murmured and returned his SMG to its magnetic strip on his armor. "Let's just hope our exit isn't sealed. It would be one thing to beat the clock only to be trapped here."

Alice nodded and felt the lift come to a completed stop. "Let's go!"

The door opened and they bolted down the short hallway into flashing red lighting. They turned down a connecting corridor and made for the far end. Alice recalled the countless layers of spiraling, right-angle ramps they had to run up just to make it to the corridor they were currently running down and she felt a glimmer of hope that they could make it out in time. "Follow my lead," she called out.

They slowed down to allow the access door to recognize their presence and it opened to reveal what Alice remembered. She gazed down at the multiple levels of ramps and the dark, empty shaft that lead down to the bottom. There were no handrails or balustrades to prevent one's fall into the abyss, but the lack of features would prove helpful to the Spartans.

The first ramp led down to a flat surface that angled off to her left. At the end of the leveled stretch, another ramped section, opposite the previous incline, angled off to the left and so on. Alice slid down the first ramp and caught herself before slamming into the wall. She then walked to the center of the flattened stretch of walkway and crouched. Gauging the distance, she leaped forward and landed on the flat walkway opposite the one she had just left. She braced herself against the wall and quickly recovered her balance.

Alice waved Douglas on and jumped down to the flat walkway below the one Douglas was currently occupying. As they leaped and landed, Alice couldn't help but feel a little silly. She recalled faint, distant memories of when she was a child doing something similar, but not quite pinpointing exactly what. The only solid childhood memories she had was from the SPARTAN program and everything and everyone that went along with it. Even as she continued jumping, she felt a tinge of sadness at the lack of fond thoughts of growing up.

It wasn't that she loathed being a Spartan-- it was the completed opposite-- but the rigorous training denied her of what normal kids experienced during childhood. It was something she had excepted long ago, but glimpses of a life she never knew would often flash before her. An overheard conversation from a marine about his kids back home. The curious look a child gave her when she was in her armor. Young civilian lovers walking past without a care in the galaxy.

Maybe when all of this was over, all of this fighting, she could settle down and start a family of her own. Deep down, Alice knew she was wishfully thinking. No matter how alluring a "normal" life was, she was a soldier. A Spartan.

Taking another leap, she frowned when she landed on the next walkway. So what brought this all on? Why would I suddenly be doubting my career path? Her eyebrows raised when Alice realized she never had a choice in the matter. It was: "become a Spartan or wash out."

Perplexed by her own thoughts, she shook her head and tried to focus on the next jump. Now wasn't the time to get all philosophical. She was trying to vacate a detonating spire on an alien installation floating above a world she had never seen before. Later. I can talk through all of this later. Maybe with Doug and Jerome . . .

"Alice?"

She looked up and saw Douglas giving her a curious look. "Yeah?" she asked distractedly. "Little busy here."

Douglas' shoulders bobbed up and down as he laughed. "Turn around, dear."

Alice frowned and spun on her heal to see she had already reached the bottom floor. "Oh." Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize how much traveling she had done. In a sense, it was the story of her life. She hit the release switch and stepped through the doorway. Douglas jumped down and followed right behind her. Noting the countdown, she raised her left arm up and tapped her right index finger on her wrist.

"This is going to be close."

The hallway they marched down had large plates of glass lining the left side, giving them a terrific view of the stars. "I don't remember this hall having windows," Alice commented with a frown.

"Must have had shutters on them before." They traveled down the wide hallway and Douglas pointed to the door straight ahead. "That's the way we came in."

Alice nodded but remembered how cramped it had been in the maintenance passageways. "Should we try to find a main door?"

Douglas considered the possibility as they came to halt at the maintenance hatch. He swore out loud when he saw the flashing yellow lights around the rim of the hatch, telling both of them that the passageway was sealed. "Well, we can't get out this way."

"C'mon." Alice was already through the doorway to their right and was racing down the lengthy corridor. If she was reading her HUD map correctly, they should be able to enter the main corridor after two more turns down connecting hallways. It all felt like a maze to Alice.

Alice clenched her teeth and tried increasing her pace without completely falling forward. Her eyes darted to the bottom row of random symbols on her visor and swallowed. There were only a dozen left out of the original forty.

"Hold it!" Douglas hissed.

Alice tried to slow down, but Douglas pulled her to a stop well before the last turn into the main corridor. She looked over her shoulder at him. "What?"

"Contacts." Douglas stepped in front of her and squatted down, awkwardly working his way up to the bend in the hallway.

Alice swore to herself when she saw the briefest of blurring yellow on her motion tracker. She hunched down and crouch-walked in his wake until he peered around the corner. Oddly enough, there was no door into the huge, main corridor that ran nearly the entire length of the spire, but the doorway gave them a view good enough to spot what their radars were telling them.

  • 05.16.2011 5:43 PM PDT



Biting back another curse, Alice shook her head at the sight. Floating back and forth across the width of the main corridor were hundreds of Sentinels, patrolling the area for any sign of movement. While the cloud of machines was thick, they still kept their distance from one another to allow a chance for multiple attack angles, should a hazard reveal itself.

Douglas whispered to her. "You think they'll ignore us this time?"

Pursing her lips, Alice knew it wouldn't be the case. "They must be here as a last line of containment. We shouldn't risk it."

"Well we better risk something," Douglas urged. He tapped his visor with a finger. "I figure we've get less than five minutes."

Alice started to chew on the inside of her cheek as she tried to think. "Maybe we can backtrack a little ways and see if there's a cross-corridor. One of us lures them out while the other makes a break for it?"

"There's still no guarantee we could get that enormous door open," Douglas mentioned, pointing out the obstruction. "Wait . . . " He clasped his hands together. "If we can't go through the spire, we'll just have to go around it."

"Okay," Alice said hesitantly, but Douglas was already moving past her, back the way they had come. She followed him back to the hallway with the maintenance hatch-- and the large glass windows. "You're serious," she asked, as he ran his hand along the base of the nearest window.

"I bet they open up these things to help vent the atmosphere during the spire's separation from the base of the station." Douglas craned his neck as he looked at her. "You up for a spacewalk?"

Alice started to grumble a complaint but stepped up next to him and sighed. She absolutely hated the idea. The only time Alice didn't score high marks in training was during spacewalk exercises on the orbital platforms above Reach. She became extremely anxious when faced with the possibility of floating off into the black oblivion of space. But during those training exercises she was tethered to the hull. Here, it would not be the case.

Alice sighed again. "No other options," she muttered through her teeth.

Douglas didn't take the fleeting time to ask her if she would be okay, and he bent down to the window frame and lined up his elbow. "Lock your magnetic soles."

Alice complied and nodded. "Do it."

Even with MJOLNIR strengthened blows, the glass took Douglas a half dozen hits before showing signs of cracking at the corners. Alice winced with each crash of his elbow, and tensed when the high pitch squeal of the first smallest breach was heard. She lowered herself into a crouch and took Douglas' left hand in hers.

He paused in between swings and looked up at her. "One more should do it." He raised his right arm. "Hold on!"

With a thunderous crash, the glass shattered around the Spartan's elbow and immediately vented out the meter-wide opening. The air was howling all around like an enraged pack of wild animals and Alice could feel the pull of the fleeing atmosphere. "One step at a time!" she yelled, hoping Douglas could hear her.

Douglas nodded and slowly dislodged his left foot from the floor and stepped onto the window sill. His armor found a solid, magnetic contact and he nodded again.

Alice raised her right foot hesitantly and forced herself to step in the place Douglas had just left. She gave his hand a squeeze and Douglas took his first step onto the outer hull of the station. Not only was Douglas pulling her along, but the venting air nearly pushed her completely off balance and she clung to his forearm. She stepped through the broken glass opening and immediately felt disoriented. The stars in front of her spun like a cyclone and she felt her head loll to the side. The whooshing of the atmosphere leaving was so loud she couldn't hear anything else.

A tug from Douglas' hand got her moving towards the direction of his pull and she soon found herself facing the central base of the station. As soon as she cleared the hole in the window, all outside sound was cut off like a conductor ending a symphony. She could still hear her heavy breathing but it wasn't comforting at all.

The outside hull was starship gray and meter-sized square panels layered its skin. Alice kept her eyes on each cautious step as Douglas picked up his pace. After ten panels, the surface of the hull changed abruptly and giant hexagonal tiles arose in an angular hump before them. Blast Zone, Alice thought. A place that's going to blow in less than two minutes. The honeycomb-patterned ring continued on to both her left and right sides. On her HUD, it pulsed a telling red glow.

Douglas raised his booted foot and stepped onto the first six-sided panel, but his footing faltered and he leaned backward. He swore as Alice helped stabilize him with a hand to his back. Since the comm jamming was still in place, he turned back and placed his visor up against hers to conduct the sound waves. "We can't magnetize our armor to this type of surface," came his muffled voice. "We'll have to crawl."

Alice's eyes grew wide and she felt her heart-rate increase. As Douglas pulled away and reached down to grip the raised edges of the hexagonal tiles, she prayed the pull of the installation's internal artificial gravity would help anchor them to the hull if they should slip. She swallowed and let go of Douglas' hand. Leaning forward she made sure she had a solid hold of the first tile before she disengaged her footing.

The raised edges of each tile proved to be easy to grip and Alice quickly found herself moving up and over the ring. Douglas was off to her left and they stayed within arm's reach of one another. Alice found herself crawling faster as the last few alien symbols at the bottom of her heads-up-display started flashing.

The were over the crest of the separation ring when the small gaps around each hexagonal tile started venting compressed air. Panic started to creep inside her mind and Alice nearly lost her hold. But immediately, adrenaline, mixed with her survival instinct, flooded her being and she clawed her way forward, down the back slope of the honeycomb ring.

On her HUD, the last two countdown symbols flickered and the leftmost winked out. There was only one left.

As they finally came to the bottom of the ring, the two Spartans swung their legs around to lock back onto the magnetic conductive surface. There were twenty meters of hardened panels left before the central triangular base flattened out before them.

But even as they took risky, lengthening strides, Alice knew they wouldn't be clear of the blast.

The last symbol flickered out of existence and the separation ring detonated.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Bren waved his left forearm over the hangar bay door release and the large, rumbling door opened. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread as the spire's lighting was flashing like a strobe. Once the dark gray rectangular door was low enough, Bren hurdled the top edge and pushed off to propel him forward.

And there, hovering like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey, was Bren's ride off the spire. The Phantom's running lights were a bright green, letting him know the engines were hot and ready to go. As Bren hobbled toward the rear of the Phantom, the pilot activated the gravity lift. He crossed the distance in the last few stumbling steps and was pulled upward into the belly of the dropship.

He quickly deactivated the lift and started for the cockpit. "Pilot, get us out of here!"

The Sangheili partially turned around in his seat, only saw his Ship Master, and gave Bren an abbreviated nod. He didn't need to hear a full report on why his commander was without a squad. The failure of Bren's mission was etched on his pained face.

Bren collapsed into the copilot's seat and didn't even bother strapping in. "Go!" he croaked.

The pilot flipped a few switches and the Phantom started moving forward.

Once cleared of the containment field, they shot out of the hangar bay like plasma from a fuel rod cannon. The pilot kept his course steady for a few seconds before turning the ship in a lazy arc down towards the cruiser. From the top of the cockpit viewport, they could see the spire they had just left and Bren rumbled a growl at the sight.

But the sudden appearance of tendrils of mist seeping from the ring where the spire connected with the station's base made him frown. "Slow down," he ordered, as he pointed at the distant oddity. "The installation must be breaking apart."

The pilot lifted his head and then shook it. "No, it's just that spire. All the others appear normal."

Bren opened his mouth with a reprimand behind his lips, but stopped himself when he saw that the pilot was indeed correct. "Yes," he hissed.

The pilot slowly rotated the Phantom and leveled out his course to give them a better view of the focal point on the installation. The mist finished venting and the hexagonal-patterned ring began glowing a feverish red. Then at two different vertical junctions, the panels started exploding outward. The path of both starting points chased around the ring to end at the others beginning. And with a final brilliant flash of white light, the blast sent the detached spire off on a collision course with the system's sun.

It looked thoroughly impressive to Bren, the Forerunners' design to safeguard the rest of the installation. There was barely any debris from the explosion, and after the discarded spire was out of view, the station didn't look any less for the loss. Bren frowned again when he noticed how similar the detached joint of the spire they had just vacated looked like another spot on the top of the triangular base of the station. This is not the first time a spire had been jettisoned into the sun.

"Ship Master?"

  • 05.16.2011 5:45 PM PDT



Bren shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was no point in staying here. It was time for them to leave. "Take us back to Unwavering Fortitude. We need to get back to the Fleet." He finally snapped his restraints around his torso. ". . . and tell the Council of this atrocity."

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Alice felt the heat on her back as the explosion washed over her. She had been in mid stride when the ring finally erupted, and Douglas tried his best to step behind her and act as a shield. The blast had shoved them off of the joint of the spire with enough force to break the grip they held. But the shudder that ripped through the hull momentarily demagnetized their armor's soles, and the two Spartans found themselves tossed down towards the station's base in a zero-gravity free fall.

Alice tumbled head over feet but tried to spread her arms and legs out to recover her fortuitous dive. As she began to stabilize, she noticed her armor was charred and she prayed its integrity was still solid. Once Alice had regained control of her fall she started looking for Douglas, only to find him floating behind her a good dozen meters away. His body was limp and Alice felt her throat tighten.

She looked forward again and realized they were hurling towards the base's hull at a dangerous speed. Alice knew if she could land on her feet, she could lock in place and hopefully not jar herself unconscious from the impact. But Douglas, in his current trajectory, would slam headfirst into the hull.

Fighting back panic and dizziness, Alice kicked her way around to put her feet facing the station and her head craning upward to keep an eye on Douglas. She silently cursed his good nature for shielding her from the blast and braced herself for the impact.

She risked one last glance at Douglas before focusing on the hull. While it was flat and similar in structure to the spire's panels, the upper surface was smooth and coated in cosmic dust. Alice clenched her teeth and landed hard on two different panels. Her knees started to buckle, but her armor absorbed most of the impact and she only felt a slight punch to her insides as gravity did it's best to push her down. Through sheer strength, Alice stayed upright and felt her thighs burn. Even with augmented muscles, it seemed as if she was squatting much more than the metric tonnage of her armor. She quickly locked her soles and felt a solid magnetic lock underneath.

Once Alice was firmly in place, she lifted her gaze and saw Douglas drifting away from her. So much so, that something had to have interrupted his fall. When she saw the glint of metallic debris lodged in his upper right arm, she had her frightful answer. She began to follow his twisting path, moving to her left, and she kept her eyes on him the whole time. Douglas was coming in faster now and he was only meters away. She raised her outstretched arms. Almost there . . .

Alice took another step with her left foot but couldn't find purchase. Her balance faltered and she stumbled sideways. Her eyes growing wide, Alice glanced down to find she had nearly walked off of the station entirely, only to be anchored in place by her right magnetic sole. She bent her right knee and her rear hit the edge of the upper hull. As Douglas was looming ever closer, Alice tried to position her left foot against the outer wall without twisting her ankle. She succeeded in mild discomfort and stretched out her arms again. Douglas' form was still careening to her left and Alice knew it would be close.

His head was within arm's reach, but she let it slip through her hands and instead grabbed the collar of his armor with her right hand. With her left hand, she took hold of his right hip. Using his momentum from the fall, she pulled him towards her in a tight arc with all her might. His shoulders and back landed on Alice's stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of her and she felt her left foot disengage from the hull. Douglas' legs landed in her lap as he bounced off of her.

Alice held on to him as his body ricocheted at an odd angle. She tried to pull him back down, but with only one foot holding them both to the hull, she felt herself rising. Alice converted the movement to her advantage and she was able to get both of her feet back underneath her. With her footing firmly established, Alice twisted Douglas around and planted his soles on the hull before he could go flying off in another direction.

She stood there panting for breath, slightly amazed that she had successfully retrieved her fellow Spartan from a certain death-- or at the very least a rough re-entry into the planet's atmosphere. While her fear and uneasiness about spacewalking was still there, she now had a swelling confidence that she could be okay from here on out.

Alice took another step forward to get away from the perilous edge and kept a firm grip on Douglas. For a brief second she imaged herself as a puppeteer, given the way she was clutching Douglas' armor, but she soon brought him in closer and kept him upright by wrapping her arms around his torso. During that moment she closed her eyes and caught her breath.

As soon as she collected herself well enough to continue, Alice consulted her alien overlapping map and thanked God a hatch was close by. She figured it belonged to the same circuit as the maintenance passageway they had used before and noted its distance. Alice bent her knees and lifted one of Douglas' soles off of the hull by tilting him to the side and placing her thigh underneath his. It was an arduous task, but short of dragging him, it was the only way to keep Douglas safe until she could assess his injuries.

They made it to the hatch and Alice awkwardly reached down to hit the small release panel. The hatch parted its three shutter-like blades and a flat, hazy blue field flickered into existence. Alice recalled how the previous force-field functioned, and she slowly lowered Douglas down. When the station's interior gravity took over, she felt it pull Douglas from her grip and he made the last half meter to the ground unhindered. He slowly collapsed into a heap and Alice quickly jumped through the hatchway to land beside him.

She keyed the hatch closed and immediately rush to Douglas' side and linked her armor's onboard diagnostics with his. She carefully rolled him onto his back and nervously waited for the biometric results to spill out on her visor.

When the diagnostic program finished it came up with bold red letters that read: INVALID. Alice cursed out loud and knelt down beside Douglas, placing worried hands on his chest to see if he was breathing. But encased in his armor, any physical sign of his anatomy functioning was void. "C'mon, Doug," Alice growled. She shook him with no result.

Fighting back another wave of panic, Alice unfastened his helmet's latches and slowly pulled off Douglas' headgear. His black-haired head bobbed back and his hazel eyes were closed. To Alice, it seemed like an eternity since she had last seen Douglas in the flesh, and it took her a second to reminder herself that his pale complexion was genetic and not from lack of oxygen.

Alice had to be sure. She lowered her head and tilted her left auditory sensor towards his face to hear if he was breathing, but her nervous panting gave no clear noise floor to listen. She pulled off her own helmet and tossed it aside. Once the slight breeze from the passageway hit her neck, she suppressed a chill and leaned forward. She could feel her curly black locks of hair tickle her ears and forehead as the elastic sheath that held her hair in place snapped off.

Finally able for physical human contact, Alice leaned her head over Douglas' face and felt his soft warm breath wheezing from his nostrils. While it was shallow, it was still a good sign that he wasn't totally incapacitated. She breathed a sigh of relief and held back the urge to cry.

While death's looming presence was something every soldier lived with, to come so close to losing someone so dear released a rolling tide of emotions Alice had rarely experienced before. Fear of spacewalking was completely overshadowed by the fear of losing Douglas. Not having Jerome there with them made it even more difficult for her to handle. But breaking down in a wallowing sob wouldn't help and she swallowed past another lump in her throat.

Alice gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled away to examine his right arm. The small piece of shrapnel had lodged itself under his pauldron but it looked as if it had not pierced through to his skin. She was tempted to yank it out, but she didn't want to risk further injury or discomfort to him. She leaned back on her haunches and placed her hands in her lap.

It felt mildly ironic to Alice that the armor they wore had saved their lives and yet in order to verify Douglas' survival, Alice had to shed that same layer of protection. In some ways she felt the same being true of her own emotional state. While fear and trepidation were always present, courage wasn't the absence of those two hindrances. Her training, her experience, her bond with Douglas and Jerome-- these were what made her the fighting machine she was. Fear, if used properly, was a motivator.

A staccato of tones from her helmet broke her musings and she stretched out her right hand to retrieve her headgear. Alice pulled her hair back as best she could and secured her helmet on her head. The diagnostic had finally returned with a readout. Douglas' vitals were all in the green, but he was still unconscious. At the bottom of her visor was a query to manually activate Douglas' armor's neural stimulant package. It was something commonly used to revive Spartans that required palpatory revival.

  • 05.16.2011 5:46 PM PDT


Alice paused when she considered zapping him. As much as she wanted to see him up and moving she knew his body needed the rest. They had been moving nonstop since their boots had hit the interior of Tradewind. And despite the adrenaline still coursing in her veins, Alice knew she was exhausted as well.

And to add another layer of helplessness, she wasn't sure what to do next. The logical choice was to head for the cruiser on one of the lower spires. If the commander of the ODSTs had any sense, he would secure the ship and lock it down. But something inside Alice wondered if the Monitor had not already transported her fellow soldiers off and put them in a holding cell somewhere. Contrite Variant had said that if the ODSTs didn't do anything to disrupt security then they would be left alone.

Regardless, she and Douglas had to find them, but fainting from exhaustion wouldn't help at all. Alice sighed and set a programmed timer to wake them in a few hours. She got her legs out from underneath her and pushed herself back against the passageway wall.

Alice leaned back and closed her eyes.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

As the Phantom entered the forward hangar bay, Bren began to breath a little easier. The familiar lines and colors of the Covenant ship seemed to wrap around them and pull them closer.

The pilot steered the dropship to a stop at the forward-most slot of the bay. His hands lifted off the controls and he glanced over at his superior. "Should I leave the engines running?" he asked.

Bren worked his mandibles before answering. Even with his vast knowledge of system automation to get Unwavering Fortitude into slipspace and back to High Charity, there was still Human survivors tainting his ship. And he wasn't up for any more fighting. "No. Come with me."

They exited the Phantom and headed for the petal-shaped door to their right. Bren did his best to hide the discomfort in his back, but he figured the venerable pilot wouldn't help him unless called upon.

Once they were inside the belly of the cruiser, Bren made for the nearest console. He entered his override command and brought up the list of ship automation functions he had on standby. But every selection was highlighted in deep purple, letting him know none were accessible. He grounded his teeth and hit the first automation that would pull the cruiser from the docking port on the spire.

A negative beeping tone was his answer and he slammed a fist on the console, cracking the delicate touch surface in the process. He tried another automation program, but Bren was met with the same result. He growled in anger and winced when the pain in his back told him outbursts were not a good idea.

He didn't know how, but the Humans had locked him out of the ship's computer systems. Either that, or I didn't set up my overrides exactly right. Bren wanted to beat himself to a pulp for the possible oversight. His superiors had always told him how thorough he needed to be in dealing with coding, but in his line of work, he rarely had the time to practice. Maybe I'm not the Ship Master I thought I once was . . .

Shaking his head in disgust, he knew there were a few options on the table. "Pilot," he muttered with his head down. "Head to the Reactor. Do you know where that is?" he asked, slowly raising his head.

"Yes," he replied with a crispness in his voice not usually found among pilots.

"Good. Head there and await my instructions. I'll signal you over the ship's comm." Bren turned to face the fellow Sangheili. "I'm going to my chambers and see if I can access my overrides from there. If the system is still down, I'll need you to reset the Core." He watched as the pilot stirred in his place at the very mention of complying with such a risky order. "Do you understand?"

The pilot straightened up and nodded. "Yes, Ship Master."

"Very well," Bren said. He frowned and tilted his head slightly. "What is your name, pilot?"

"Jakli Themul," he said with a hint of a smile. He nodded once more and turned on his right hoof and left.

Bren let the name bounce around in his head but no bells rang out. He was vaguely familiar with the clan name Themul, and had never interacted with one of its members until now. As he watched Jakli turn down the end of the hallway, Bren couldn't help but feel an unsettling notion itching at the base of his skull. There was no reason to doubt the pilot's devotion to the Covenant, but something about Jakli's nature told Bren he was hiding something.

Starting for his chambers, Bren was going to make sure to stop by an armory on the way there.

  • 05.16.2011 5:48 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!


Posted by: Footbutt
all in all it is 25/26 Chapters in length + a rather descriptive Epilogue, should i chose to post it.
Oh, dude, that's awesome.
i'm considering keeping it for the first chapter of the next installment.Another... installment... *dies*

Amazing chapters. Just... blerhghb;eelbhelbhamazing. God damn.

  • 05.16.2011 9:51 PM PDT

Chapter 20


James Cutter stared at the holographic representation of the station the Monitor had coined "Installation B-23." Outlined in light blue, its triangular central base had pillars like fingers branching out from the top and bottom. B-23 orbited around a sizable planet that hosted no indigenous life to speak of, according to the translated data noted in a text window next to the world. The shear size of the installation would dwarf any orbital defense platforms found on either Reach or Earth. It's overall design was reminiscent of the structures found on the alien shield world but spoke of a certain purpose not yet defined.

Beside him, Serina appeared on her pedestal, all vibrant and wide-eyed. "It's quite amazing, isn't it, Captain."

James gave her a curious look. "How so?" he asked, figuring the obvious immensity of the station wasn't her point.

Serina turned her head to him and smiled. "We're learning more and more about the builders of these structures with each new find." She tilted her head to the hologram. "The Monitor identified its creators as the Forerunners, and given this station's energy statistics, it's not a far stretch to conclude the shield world we left was made by them as well."

Cutter frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "All of this is well and good for the ONI techs to rummage through, but we need to know what to expect in terms of defenses and weaponry."

Across from the tactical display, Jerome grunted. "And how to shut them down," he added. "What about the Covenant Cruiser? It could have just as easily left or called in reinforcements."

"If that is the case, then this would no longer be a rescue mission," Serina said quietly.

James raised his right hand and waved the concerns away. "Regardless of the current situation at B-23, it is the last know whereabouts of our missing soldiers." He sighed and lowered his hand. "We go in, and we go in hot." With a nod of his head, he motioned back to the floating hologram. "From what Anders had deduced from her preliminary scan of the data, this is just a research station, is that correct, Serina?"

The AI slowly nodded. "Yes, Captain, and it appears any defenses would be internal." The station's image highlighted several points along both it's base and the spires jutting outward. "There are several docking bays and collars we could use, but in the Spirit of Fire's current state, I would not recommend any such maneuvers."

"Then we'll ferry over troops in Pelicans," James commented. He looked up at the Spartan. "092, I assume you'll be on the first bird?"

Jerome opened his mouth to answer, but the shifting of light behind him caused the Spartan to turn partly around.

"We will," Ellen Anders said for both of them, entering the conversation as smooth as Cutter had ever seen her do. She stepped up next to Jerome and placed her hands on the edge of the tactical display's railing. She gave a look between the Captain and the Spartan and smiled. "If what Serina says about this installation and the shield world being related, then I will already have a head start on interfacing with the alien technology we find."

James watched Jerome's face for any sign of disagreement, and instead saw the briefest of smiles bloom before quickly dying out. "It makes sense, Sir," the Spartan said.

Captain Cutter gave them both a curious look. Before on Harvest, Sergeant Forge had vehemently disagreed on Anders' immediate involvement at the polar dig site. In the end they had barely escaped the Covenant trap, and James sincerely hoped they were not walking into the same situation this time. This time, there's almost too many variables. "Very well." He looked over at Serina. "What about this Monitor? He still seems like an unknown participant."

Serina made a sound that simulated a clearing of the throat. "Based on the reports of several Marines that were battling the Covenant in Tradewind's starboard docking bay, an Elite was able to capture the Monitor via a shoulder-slung device, disabling it, so to speak." Serina pulled up a hazy, blurry image from one Marine's helmet docu-cam.

To James, the image appeared to be an Elite in black armor holding what looked like a fuel rod cannon. But as the static image shifted to motion, the video revealed the device pulling a round object on streams of swirling light. The video abruptly shut off when the Elite had his prize and began to turn around.

"Clever, if not practical," Serina commented. "If the Covenant needs such a device to capture a rogue AI, then it might not be a bad idea to obtain something similar."

Cutter frowned but looked across the tactical display. "Anders? Any ideas?"

She pursed her lips in thought, then suddenly snapped her fingers. "The Gremlin. I bet if I can find a way to compartmentalize the laser, amplifier, and power source, I could rig up a one-use EMP cannon that could zap the living daylights out of the Monitor." She raised her eyebrows. "That could keep it quiet for a long time."

James glanced up at the Slipstream exit countdown clock on the back wall. "If you can do it in the next six hours . . ."

"I'm on it," Anders said with a smile.

"Until then, I'll brief the squad commanders and make a ship-wide announcement about our intentions." James keyed a control panel on the display and the hologram vanished. He gave Spartan 092 a steady gaze. "Rest assured, we'll find our soldiers."

Jerome straightened up and gave a crisp salute that the Captain returned. With a click of his heels, the super soldier turned and started for the door with Anders in his wake.

"Big day planned," Serina muttered beside him.

Cutter snorted and smiled. "With any luck we can at least make it short." He scratched the hair behind his right ear and turned to Serina. "In the event that this alien AI would make its way aboard this ship, would you be able to defend yourself if it attacks?"

Serina was silent for a pair of seconds before straightening her back and nodding. "The Spirit of Fire will not fall into enemy hands, whether they be Covenant or other."

James eyed her curiously. Before she had been unexpectedly shut down, Serina would have made a joke about the situation, but with her new-old programming, she was exponentially more serious. While Cutter welcomed this change of attitude, there was a part of him that missed her dry sense of humor.

He nodded to Serina and started for the doorway leading out of the bridge. He had a full schedule to keep and a battle to prepare for.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


As soon as Jerome entered the lift, he felt the brush of air against his side. He turned around and keyed the doors shut to find Ellen Anders smiling up at him to his left. He returned her expression and pulled her in for a hug and kiss. She smelled lovely to him, and couldn't help but reminisce on the previous night. "Last night was--"

But before he could answer, she kissed him again, this time full of the passion and desire they had shared only hours previous. She hugged him tighter.

Jerome felt his pulse quicken and his extremities flush with heat, but he slowly pulled out of the kiss and tucked her head underneath his chin. "I take it you missed me?"

Ellen laughed and bounced a fist off of his chest. "Don't act like you don't feel the same." He could feel her smile against his thin layers of clothing. "Yes, I missed you."

"Same here." Jerome sighed and held her at arms' length. He could read her deep desire to further their bodies' passionate entanglement from the night before, but the time frame wouldn't allow it. "We both have a lot to do today . . ." He trailed off and watched Ellen's smile soften.

"I know," she conceded, giving his forearms a squeeze. "Just promise me that when we're on our way back to UNSC-controlled space, you and I will delay our appointments in the Cryo Rooms."

Jerome gave her the biggest smile he could. "Count on it."

  • 05.22.2011 10:22 AM PDT

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Nathan Parker awoke with the artificial dawn and the smell of fresh coffee wafting from a nearby cooker. He leaned forward from his inclined position on the large stone he had called a bed and worked his head around in several circles, eliciting a few cracks from his neck. Shuffling feet to his left made him focus on a pair of dirty boots caked in dried mud.

"Coffee?" asked a soft, female voice.

Nathan looked up to see Toril Holmen standing before him, holding two steaming mugs of the wake-up juice. Her long golden hair was draped over her right shoulder and breast, and she was smiling. "Sure," he croaked, immediately clearing his throat. "Sure," he repeated in a more humanoid fashion.

Toril bent down on one knee and gave him a mug. "It's hot."

Taking an experimental sip, he wasn't surprised to find the coffee hot, but he was amazed at the potency. "Strong enough to melt the face off an Elite." He gave her a curious look. "How long have you been up?" he asked, noting how fresh and awake she looked.

She shrugged and took a sip herself. "Woke up a little early and took a quick dip in the lake we found late last night. Had to backtrack a little, but the privacy was worth it."

Nodding, Nathan let the warmth from the mug spread into his hands. "Well, I wish I could have been there to see that," he murmured under his breath.

Toril gave him a backhanded slap across his armored chest but still smiled. "The things you miss while sleeping."

Nathan smiled back and felt himself steadily waking up with every second he looked into her brilliant blue eyes. He knew there was still a level of infatuation he had to work through, but there was such a warmth that accompanied Toril whenever she was present. And with their most recent relational revelation, Nathan wondered how much of his desire to know her was mutual.

"Up and at 'em," Sergeant Williams bellowed from a position relative North of where the two ODSTs sat.

And like most relationships in the military, ours will be put on hold. Nathan growled and took one gigantic swig from his mug, feeling the hot liquid burn both tongue and throat, and handed it back to Toril. "Let's go."

The makeshift campground was empty within half a minute of Williams' order and the UNSC force was again on the move. The troopers made it down the rocky hillside without incident and were soon in an orderly, two-column march.

They traversed through a large, rocky canyon only to find that halfway through, the temperature was beginning to fall sharply with each klick. The coldness quickly made those soldiers that had not donned on gloves to do so, and the slither of clouds creeping in soon blotted out the faux sunlight. Nathan could feel the chill in his bones and wondered just how cold it would get. But soon his armor adjusted its internal climate regulator and he began to feel more comfortable.

The sergeant's call to halt brought the company to a stop and news of an exit trickled down the line of soldiers. After a short respite the ODSTs were again moving, only this time through a tall, angular opening wide enough to permit two at a time. The doorway led them inside into a gray hall of equal measure that broke right then left in a zig-zag pattern. At the hall's end, there was a similar pair of doors bracketed in a soft green light.

The soldiers filed in that last straight stretch of hallway and Nathan watched Williams and Miller converse at the door's release panel. He wondered what could be waiting for them beyond the tall, angular opening, but if he was reading his waypoint correctly, they were getting very close to the source of the jamming. Nathan frowned and checked the distance again: 1.2 kilometers. Holy crap, we're close. He quickly looked up and wanted to shout the good news, but the passive looks he received told him most had forgotten their destination and its importance.

The double doors parted with a shudder and opened up into a wintry landscape. The ground was covered in fine white powder and even the few trees and rocks closest to the doorway were covered in snow. Tiny flakes fell lazily to the ground and the lack of a breeze made the moment surreal. It was as if the natural condition of the spire was to be in a state of winter but the environmental system had been shut off. Nathan knew it wasn't the case, but the peacefulness of the falling snow led him to believe he had stumbled into a dreamworld.

The two columns of ODSTs marched into the last section of their journey and Nathan could finally feel a sense of expectancy from his fellow troopers. The vastness of the final chamber was akin to their first encounter with the artificial environment, only this one was covered in snow. The ground rolled and rose at random intervals to suggest a giant had stomped his way through the snow, leaving huge divots and craters for others to climb and traverse. There was even a large crack running off to their left and Nathan followed it's jagged line to the distant angular shapes up ahead of him.

Beside him, Toril gasped. "Look at that."

Just as she commented, Nathan looked through the gentle snowy haze and spied what had caused her to shudder. Nearly a kilometer away there rose up a huge, triangular structure embedded in the snow and rock, as if it were a natural formation. Dark gray in color with a semi-reflective surface, the front of the structure looked like a giant portico, complete with triangular pillars, and the darkened interior spoke of hidden rooms and doorways. In a way it resembled a pyramid that had been turned 45 degrees and cut in half with a large portion of its midsection scooped out for easy access.

Nathan double-checked his waypoint and sure enough, the source of the jamming signal was coming from inside the structure, dead ahead.

"Form up by squads," Williams announced, his voice echoing off the distant rocky walls.

Toril and Nathan followed orders and joined up with the rest of Bravo at the front of the line. Since Williams was the de-facto leader of the entire contingency, his squad would take point. The sergeant assigned flanking positions to other squads and they were soon moving again.

The snow crunched underneath his feet, and Nathan Parker keep his eyes fixed on the colossal building. Through the snow, he thought he saw something moving under the portico. He then frowned and switched to his SRS Sniper Rifle, finally being able to take advantage of the weapon's range. He took a few galloping steps to move ahead of the group and bent down on one knee. Looking through the scope, he magnified his view. Nathan panned his sights back and forth but couldn't see any more movement.

Footsteps stopped at his side and Nathan heard Toril pull out her SMG. "You see something?"

Parker lifted his head and frowned. "I thought I did. Nothing, now."

She patted him on the shoulder. "All clear, Sir," Toril announced to Williams who was coming along side them.

Nathan slowly stood back up and joined the marching cadence, his nerves growing with each compacting step.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


As the ODSTs started up the incline just right of center of the structure, Nathan felt a knot growing in his stomach. The outer design of the massive building spoke of some ancient sacrificial method where one would be led up any of the four straight inclines to gather under the covered, open area, only to be killed on site. Nathan knew it was completely ridiculous to think such a thought, but if any security forces wanted to attack from higher ground, the ODSTs wouldn't stand a chance.

He glanced over to his left where Sergeant Miller was leading the second group up the incline just left of center. The random slits in the three meter-high separation wall allowed brief glimpses of the soldiers, but every once in a while, there would be a break in the wall for a half dozen meters.

Upward they marched, until the crest was finally in view. The forward line spread out to cover every possible angle, and Nathan found himself beside Toril Holmen on the far right side. Williams held up a hand and the entire group stopped. Sergeant Williams trotted over to Miller and after a short talk both men looked over at Corporal Winters who was standing beside the separation wall. They waved the man forward and the ODST pulled out his datapad in transit.

Nathan tried to focus his attention on the dark interior of the structure, but kept finding his gaze drifting back to the conversing trio. Winters pointed towards the inner sanctum of the building and both sergeants nodded in approval.

Williams twirled a finger above his head and waved his hand three times, signaling the front three squads to move on ahead.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan started for the bobbing waypoint floating on his HUD. As soon as he reached the edge of the portico, his visor adjusted to the lower-level light and he found three pairs of doors spread out along the entrance. The pillars holding up the curved roof looked much bigger than what he had perceived from a distance, but the normal-sized doors would easily accommodate a single human, squashing the previous myth that the builders of the station were giants.

He took a position against the wall of the nearest doorway and Toril joined him at his side. She then tapped him on the shoulder and he leaned his head back, not taking his eyes off the translucent door. "What?"

"Move," she urged.

  • 05.22.2011 10:23 AM PDT

"Huh?"

Toril reached around and tapped his SRS. "You going to be sniping in there?"

Nathan's face flushed red and he swapped positions with her. He always felt comfortable with his chosen rifle, but common sense dictated someone with a closer-combative weapon should take first point. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't switched back to his M6 pistol, but something told him he might need the extra firepower.

Winters hurried over to the left side of the doorway and started pounding away on his datapad. While there was no release panel that Parker could see, the door did retract into the ground when the fellow corporal entered in his final command.

Toril led Bravo Team through and Nathan wasn't surprised to find another wonder of alien technology awaiting them. He first noticed the three blue shafts of energy pulsing up from the center of the giant room to vanish into a section of the ceiling that dipped down to just a dozen meters. A ring of consoles formed a half-circle around the shafts and their flashing lights spoke of their current use. Ramps leading to an opened upper level wrapped around the outer edges of the room, giving the appearance of an observational balcony for supervisors to monitor their laborers below.

And at even intervals of ten meters, where the walls met the ceiling, were multiple round hatches with a single green light placed at their base. Nathan had not seen that particular feature before and wondered what their purpose was.

"Winters," Sergeant Williams called out from the center doorway.

"Sir," the ODST responded, turning to face his commander.

"Take Tanner, here, and see about disabling the jamming signal." Williams motioned for the tall, lanky soldier to detach himself from the far left group. "He's the tech specialist from Miller's squad and if the two of you can't end this comm blackout-"

"We're on it," Winters blurted out before Williams could complete his sentence. The corporal nodded his head for Tanner to follow and the two started for the array of blinking consoles.

"Defensive pattern Alpha," Williams ordered. "Bravo and Charlie Teams take the high road."

Beside Parker, Toril grumbled a complaint. "Means we'll be the last ones out."

Nathan shrugged and started for the ramp to his right that would lead them up to the second level. "C'mon." He knew his sergeant wasn't taking any chances by leaving holes in the defense, but the given pattern was susceptible to crossfire if things got hairy.

On the second floor, it was much more a bisected platform than it was an actual story. The floor wrapped around the front of the room in a curved walkway, and the waist-high railing framed the edges where the level stopped well short of the energy shafts. Nathan imagined from a bird's eye view it would have looked like someone had taken a bite off the second story to form two symmetrical balconies.

Toril pointed to their right and they both took a position deeper into the room along the corner closest to the shafts. The balcony only jutted out a dozen meters at the widest point, but the length of it had the rest of Bravo spread thin. Directly across from them, on the other side of the chamber, were two members from Charlie Team and Toril waved at them.

The one ODST holding an MA5B gave a mock salute while the other gave an unfriendly hand gesture.

"And that's why you're on Charlie Team," Toril sighed.

Nathan couldn't help but chuckle. He knelt down next to her and looked over the railing at Winters and Tanner hammering away at the alien consoles. "Think they can crack it?"

"Let's hope so. This place gives me the creeps."

Nathan couldn't agree more.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


Bren slipped into the comfort of his private quarters and badly wanted to fall into bed and rest. But instead he sealed the door behind him and walked into his personal washroom. He quickly pulled the pain suppression meds from his pouch that he had retrieved from the Armory and injected the blue liquid into his bare neck. He fought against the agonizing sensation and soon the pain in his back subsided to a tolerable level.

He took a deep breath-- his first in a while-- and tossed the discarded injector onto the counter top. He waited till the numbness in his neck faded then resisted the urge to throw up. Bren had never needed to be on such a high dose of pain meds, and he wasn't expecting such intense disorientation from the drugs. He stumbled back into his room and collapsed into the chair at his desk.

His body was telling him to stop and rest, but Bren's mind was racing with thoughts. He abruptly sat up and turned on his terminal. He quickly accessed the crew list and searched for the pilot, Jakli Themul. When the information pulled up on the holoscreen, he leaned back to read the text and frowned.

Jakli Themul had been a decorated Seraph fighter pilot with exceptional distinction in the Helos Moon Conflict. He had led his squadron against a numerically superior foe and not only managed to eliminate the Kig-yar fighters, but with daring strafing runs, they brought down a Heavy Cruiser. After receiving recognition for his gallantry, Jakli requested a transfer to Special Operations and it was granted with little delay from the Military Tribunal.

Bren's frown deepened and he narrowed his eyes. There was a period of four Lunar cycles where Jakli's whereabouts were unaccounted for. And it just happened to be right before he took the position as a Phantom pilot aboard Unwavering Fortitude.

Then suddenly Bren recalled where he had heard the pilot's name. It was the shared clan name of the notorious assassin Zal Themulee.

Nearly a hundred years ago, Zal was convicted of assassinating a high-ranking Sangheili Councilman while the politician was consorting with another Councilman's mate. The only thing that had tied Zal to the murder was a few trace fibers found in the victim's pool of blood. Zal was silent during his trial, and never lived to be executed; he committed suicide by ingesting a vile of grapri in his holding cell. But no one knew how he had gotten access to the deadly poison.

Years later, Zal Themulee was traced to nearly a dozen political homicides. The authorities had tried to find out if Themulee had any accomplices or handlers, but the trail went cold with Zal-- though fears of a secret, organized group spread like wildfire.

Bren swallowed past the lump in his throat. The only reason he knew of Zal's story was because Bren's father had told him of his Honor Guard grandfather that was murdered right about the time Zal had made his circuit through the Council ranks. "An innocent bystander" is what the authorities concluded. "Must have walked in on the assassin," is what they had said.

Trepidation swelled in Bren's mind as the worst of fears found a foothold in his thoughts. Has Zal's offspring come to personally eradicate my clan in the form of a Spec Ops assassin? Why would I be a target? Bren took another deep breath and forced himself to relax. Surely there was no way a Phantom pilot would risk killing his Ship Master. Especially not here, at this Forerunner Relic.

But then a shiver ran up Bren's spine. As far as he knew, there was no other Covenant alive on the ship, no one to witness and report such a mutinous act. But why hasn't he tried already? Jakli had all the time in the galaxy to kill him in the privacy of the Phantom.

Bren growled at his circumstances, feeling more like he was on top of a Jjrahli tree, being swayed in the breeze of confusion. He couldn't decide what to make of the pilot with incriminating ties. He straightened up in his chair and closed the crew manifest list. Regardless of Jakli's intentions, Bren still needed the pilot's help. If he could keep Jakli occupied and elsewhere, Bren just might make it back to the safety of Covenant-controlled space in one piece.

But first thing's first; he needed to take back control of Unwavering Fortitude.

Bren worked his mandibles and began the tedious process of accessing the root programs that would allow him to enter his override commands. And if he couldn't get that to work, he would have the pilot reset the Core-- or die trying.

  • 05.22.2011 10:24 AM PDT



*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***


An incessant beeping from the center of the room caused Nathan's eyes to widen and look downward. Winters was hunched over one of the consoles while Tanner was at his side, shaking his head. The lights on all the consoles flashed in tandem for a few seconds before settling on a collective yellow hue. Winters exchanged a look with Tanner, but neither said a word.

"What's going on?" Sergeant Miller demanded from the central doorway. He marched over and looked at the blank holoscreen. "Did you shut it down?"

"I . . . don't think so." Winters held out his datapad to find the screen also blank. He tapped a few keys to no effect. "We're locked out," he said, sounding more confused than disappointed.

"Try again," Williams said, joining them from his spot along the consoles' end.

"It won't work," Tanner rumbled. He pressed a panel under one of the holoscreens and was greeted with a negative tone. "We're locked out of the system."

Nathan watched Sergeant Williams' stance straighten. He could tell his commander was as frustrated as the two techs, but the sergeant quickly waved over two more men. "Then it's plan B."

Parker sighed and leaned back on his haunches. He looked over at Toril and shook his head. "Time to light the charges."

"When in doubt, blow it up," Toril said, citing one of the many slogans the Marines had coined.

He sighed and let his gaze drift over the other soldiers gathered in the large room. Most looked on edge and a few even looked antsy, bobbing from one foot to the other like a runner before a race. But when he looked over at the two men of Charlie Team that mirrored their own position on the second floor, a brief flicker of the green light on the base of the hatch above the distant pair made Nathan look up.

The octagonal hatches were opening.

  • 05.22.2011 10:25 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Oh my. The Themul clan revelation... oh man oh man. Everything in this chapter is stunning.

OH MY GOD, MOAR

  • 05.22.2011 8:04 PM PDT