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*Chapter Six
16th of October
Aboard Orbital Station
LimaEarth
Lazu edged his carbine around the corner. The gangly Elite turned back to his companions. “The path lies clear. I will go forth a ways to reconnoitre.” He disappeared. The squad waited on the other side of the hatch, which was marked TANGO. Benson stood towards the back, awkwardly clutching his rifle. He’d said nothing since they’d entered the station. The anxiety was already setting in, it seemed.
Kyle sighed, and shouldered his rifle. “I don’t expect he’ll find anything-this station’s bloody deserted. Len, give me the Tacmap.”
“Roger.”
Kyle’s brow furrowed as the green light of the Tacmap flooded his helmet. “According to this, we’re not far from Habitat Gamma-from there we can find Central Control. Ollie, can you hack into the system and find the AI?”
Ollie grinned. “Count on it.”
“Good.”
Lazu returned, shark-like eyes glinting. “Nothing. But there are barricades-and signs of a struggle. Come and see.”
“Did you see an elevator?”
The alien shook his head. “No.”
Kyle grunted. “Right. Well, let’s go-and stay alert.” The hatch’s proximity light flashed green, and the group proceeded forwards. After a few minutes of passing through nondescript rooms, they turned a corner and found a hatch marked CHECKPOINT H-9. They passed through.
The room beyond was small. Along one wall was a rifle rack-but the slots were all empty. The other wall was a grid of inventory boxes, which were used by personnel to store personal belongings. At the other end of the room was another door, marked COLONNADE-200 METRES. A security booth was stationed next to it, also empty.
There were telltale signs, however. Several scorch marks could be seen, and a pair of black metal barricades were scattered about. A reddish smear could be seen on the door. It was ominous.
Dasa strode over to the scorch marks and studied them. “This wall is made of your Titanium-A. It would take super-heated plasma for it to make a hole like this.”
Horatio spoke up sceptically. “Since when do Brutes use plasma weaponry anymore? They’re back into using their pre-Covenant tech.”
“It’s not just Brutes who use plasma weapons, “muttered Kyle. He stared at the smear on the door, then asked Ollie for the Tacmap again. After some consultation, the sergeant grinned. “Excellent. A service tunnel’s right past this colonnade-”
“A what?” Gerun asked.
“Colonnade, it’s a scenic walk. It’s used here for the civilian tours.”
“Ornamentation, “the Elite captain mused. “It should have no place on a military installation.”
“Oh, I don’t know, “Len chimed in. “The bars can be pretty good. Nothing like hydroponic beer.” The squad chuckled, including Kyle. But Horatio just scowled. He wasn’t ready to be buddy-buddy with these aliens just yet.
Kyle returned to his explanation. “Anyway, past the colonnade-it’s actually more of a garden, from this schematic-there’s a service tunnel. With a bit of luck, we can squeeze through and we’ll come out right in front of Central Control. Let’s go.” He moved purposefully to the doors, the squad behind him.
None saw the ovoid-shaped probe, blending in with its surroundings, broadcast a visual transmission to a receiver, somewhere else in the station.
**************************************************
Urit ‘Gebur grunted, and clicked his mandibles as he faced the Jiralhanae Shipmaster, Molgerus. His tone bordered on insolence. “You cannot depart as of yet, Shipmaster. We have a few problems.”
The savage, fur-covered alien grasped his ceremonial (but still deadly) hammer in his maul-like hands, and narrowed his eyes. “We have delivered the gift, as agreed. The transaction is complete. What holds us here?”
Urit struggled to keep a latch on his temper. What made these animals so thick? “As I stated,
Obdurate Resistance is still damaged. It’s plasma weapons function, but they lack the proper coolant distribution, as the relevant system cannot be calibrated properly. Without them, charging through that blockade around this orbital would be suicide.”
Molgerus’ fingers twisted on the hammer‘s shaft, and he let out a low growl. “Those weaklings lack any sort of firepower to challenge us! We will swipe them aside like flies!”
“They still have nukes, as you full well know!” Urit snapped. “Not to mention their mass driver cannons aboard the other orbitals. Besides, enough concentrated attack will be sure to succeed. What they lack in power they make up for in numbers. Take a look.” On the bridge’s holographic view screen, they could see a ring of ships, all around them. “What say you now?”
The Jiralhanae’s anger subsided, and his grip slackened. “It may be as you say. Why do they not attack us now?”
Urit grinned nastily. “I told them that if they were to come any closer, I would detonate the nukes and engulf us all. That should keep them at bay.”
“How much longer before the weapons are ready again?”
Urit shrugged his massive shoulders. “Seven meta-units. Give or take.”
Molgerus sighed. “Very well-”
A voice rang out. “Chieftain!”
The pair turned, to see Molgerus’ lieutenant, Tralbus, striding up the ramp that led to the command platform. Urit had disliked him on sight-more than usual, since he hated all Jiralhanae. Tralbus’ reaction had been identical. Arrogant and smugly convinced of his own importance, Tralbus was a constant thorn in his side.
The jagged saw edges of Tralbus’ helmet gleamed in the soft purple light. His green-grey armour was well-polished. Red eyes could be seen through the holes in his helmet. He gruffly placed a fist on his chest, and saluted.
“Report, “said Molgerus.
Tralbus shot an insolent look at Urit, before commencing his report. “Our sensor buoys have detected ten contacts moving through the lower decks of this orbital. A mix of humans and Elites. They progress along the passage marked COLONNADE. I surmise that they entered through the hangar bay somehow-that area has taken damage.”
At this, the other members of Molgerus’ pack, scattered about the room, turned their heads and snarled. Their hatred of Elites was all-consuming-it was a mark of their collective self-control that they had not yet set upon Urit. Molgerus cocked his head. “Have they discovered anything untoward?”
“Nay, Chieftain. We retrieved all the bodies.”
“Very well.” Molgerus pointed to a small group of Jiralhanae. “Take four others and yourself. Move quietly and lie in wait, then kill them all. Send word if you require aid.”
Tralbus clashed a fist against his chest plate. “It will be done, pack-leader.” He then smirked at Urit. “With your leave, of course.”
“Get you gone, “snarled Urit. “Away.” His hands moved to his energy sword.
Tralbus snorted, and lumbered away. Urit rounded on Molgerus. “Exercise some control over him.”
The fur-covered giant sniffed. “Relax. He amuses himself.”
Feel free to laugh, barbarian. Urit ran his hands over his head and sighed.
But I control the nukes, and this ship. And you and your kin are simply means to an end. Our agreement is void. With any luck the humans will have dealt with you before you make your escape-and I mine. And if not…I’ll kill you myself. **************************************************
An appalling amount of finery had been lavished on the colonnade. It was about one hundred metres long, and fifty metres wide. Long tubs filled with soil had been set into the floor, and ferns, palms and other plants rubbed up against each other like hunchbacks. A white tiled path wended its way through the room, occasionally splitting off into little arboreal sections. Plastic tubs of flowers were dotted here and there, forming ideal barricades. The path ended at a pair of escalators, which went up towards a landing and its attendant hatch. From the entrance door, a pair of metal catwalks-designed for military personnel passing through-ascended above the green maze and hugged the walls, leading to the other end of the room. The room was thick with a musky smell.
Kyle surveyed the room with a look of profound disapproval. “What is this, a plant convention?” he muttered. He turned to the group. “Horatio, get your ass on that catwalk. Cover us-there could be dozens of hostiles hunkered down in this mess. Benson!”
The recruit moved forward. “Uh, yes sir?”
The sergeant’s gimlet eyes bored into him. “The other catwalk. Train that gun on the end hatch. Now.”
“Got it sir.” Benson clambered up the catwalk, nearly tripping on the stairs. Kyle turned back to the squad, pathos and despair in his eyes. “Everyone else, spread out in a skirmish line. Stay low, and off the path. Gerun, Dasa and Lazu, you three taking point?”
The golden Elite nodded his assent. “Our armour will bear the brunt of an attack. Yours will not. We will proceed ahead of you.” He waved his needler.
“Good. Horatio and Benson will meet us over there. Go.” They spread out, and plunged into the greenery.
Horatio scanned the gardens, but quickly grew bored. There was nothing in sight. Even so, the wavering mass of plants was disorienting him. He pulled the safety catch on his rifle, sighted through the scope, and exhaled. Ready.
He heard a muffled curse, and saw Benson fumbling with his rifle. The kid was nervous. Still, he’d been given an easy job. He’d be fine. He kept his eyes on his teammates, inching through the garden.
He then frowned. Had that been a trace of movement amongst the shrubs? He squinted, but saw nothing. Even so, his hackles rose.
Len swore as a small palm caught him in the face, and he pushed it away. This place was like a damned forest. He brought his rifle up to help bash his way through the arbor. This movement saved his life.
A Brute, clad in an odd set of emerald armour, vaulted over the plastic tub ahead of him, the jagged blades of his spike rifle flashing, going for Len’s face. Shouting in alarm, the marine intercepted the blades with his rifle. It was bisected in half, but Len was unscathed. He dived to the right, reaching for his pistol.
Snarling, the Brute turned, but his cover had been blown. Horatio had lined up on him, and the rifle kicked in his hands as he fired. Shielding flared, and a bloody hole appeared in the Brute’s shoulder, the metal plating warped. Len emptied his clip into the Brute, until it staggered. It sent a volley of spikes his way, but he merely ducked. Already, the other squad members were converging on the lone Brute.
That was their mistake.
The hatch blew open with a bang. Four more Brutes charged into the room, guns firing. The squad was bunched up, and Xavier howled in agony as a spike thudded into his leg. Lazu growled in discomfort as a dose of spikes broke his shields and gashed his arm. Worse, the Brute had fled, leaping, ducking and twisting his way towards his packmates. Horatio fired again, but to no avail.
Kyle dragged Xavier behind a tub, shouting orders. “Take cover! Horatio, Benson, cover fire, push them back! Dasa, bombardment now!”
“Aye, “the Elite said grimly, who’d been ducked down amongst a webbing of geraniums. He shouldered his cannon, and fired a trio of bursts at the Brute squad. The green orbs blew huge holes in the deck, stunning the enemy and, for one unfortunate, incinerating his torso. The Brutes kept firing, though. Dasa was forced to cover.
Kyle grimly attended to Xavier’s wound. He pulled the spike out (ignoring Xavier’s screams), and applied a biofoam pack. In a few minutes he was shaky but ready to go.
The fighting continued. Terry and Ollie, tossed grenades over the dividers, but the Brutes dodged them. Horatio tried to get a clear shot, but a constant rain of razor projectiles kept him down. Benson tried a few scattered shots, but nothing came of it. Eventually, Kyle picked one off after a concerted burst of fire. But that still left three, and there was no end in sight.
“This ain’t good, Sarge, “Terry yelled at Kyle, who was tossing grenades. “They’ve got us pinned down, and they must have back-up on the way. We gotta take ‘em down!”
“You got any ideas?”
No!”
“Then shut up and keep firing!”
Suddenly Gerun’s voice was heard. “I have a plan. But you must cover me while I gain distance.”
“What!?”
“It is best I undertake this venture, “the Elite said gravely. “My blade is the only thing that can seek out their lives with surety.” The weapon flashed blue-white in his hands.
“But-”
“Do it now!” The Elite was suddenly bounding, racing for the Brute squad.
They rounded on him, but then the marines acted. Bullets and plasma filled the air, and the Brutes were forced back, gases oozing from the tears in their armour. Gerun had only thirty paces left.
One sighted him and fired. A lucky round penetrated his shields and lodged in his chest. Gerun grimaced but didn’t stop. In a span of heartbeats he was upon them, sword swinging.
The first went down in a gurgling spray, throat laid open. The second swung his blades, catching Gerun on the shoulder. It had little effect. He had his arm cut off at the elbow, and the alien went down, blood spurting. The third Brute, the one with emerald armour, had wised up by now. He discarded his weapon and, moving in close, grabbed Gerun’s wrists.
From there, the Elite could not manipulate the blade. But then he twisted, the pair locked against each other. Gerun managed to carve a bloody line down the Brute’s shin, but with a wrench the latter ripped the weapon free and tossed it away. They now grappled free-for-all, weaponless.
The Brute smashed a fist into Gerun’s face, but he hunched and his shoulder took most of the blow. “Brute scum!” he roared. Placing both hands on the Brute’s shoulders, he drove a knee into his chest. Winded, the Brute scrabbled for position. But Gerun grabbed the Brute’s head and hurled him to one side. He strode over to the Brute.
With a surprising feat of strength the Brute sat up and tackled Gerun, bringing them both down. Snarling, the Brute shook his head, the edges of his helmet scarring Gerun’s face. Then Gerun snapped his head up, and the Brute saw stars. Gerun used this opportunity. He pulled the Brute to his feet, and, grunting with exertion, tossed him over the railing.
The Brute opened his eyes weakly, only to see Dasa and Lazu standing over him. “Surprise, “they said in unison. Then they both set upon him with fist and weapon butt. By the time they were done, the bitter tang of Brute blood filled the air. The body of Tralbus lay bloodied and broken.
Gerun looked down at them. “Is the beast slain?”
Lazu reached for a nearby palm frond and cleaned the stained butt of his carbine. “Dead and buried. The craven had no backbone, as usual.” He looked around. “How fare the others?”
Slowly, everyone made their way in. Kyle was supporting a wan-looking Xavier, whose leg muscle was torn. He would require medical treatment, but he could walk for now. Benson was white as a sheet, but was unharmed. The lightning-fast nature of combat was obviously new to him. Gerun had suffered the worst. Aside from the numerous cuts and bruises, a spike was embedded in his upper chest. The massive alien shrugged it off, though.
Len trailed in, looking dispirited. “That green bugger sliced my rifle to pieces. Anyone got a spare?” Ollie tossed him a second SMG-he was carrying two for this op. He slotted the clip in. “Thanks.”
Kyle fronted the end hatch, which was now a gaping hole. “They came from that way. Let’s head through, and stay sharp-five Brutes wouldn’t be able to pilot a ship on their own. Ollie, Tacmap.”
“Let’s see….not far to the service tunnel. Let’s go.” The squad moved off.
*********************************************************
“Tralbus, report!”
Urit hid a satisfied smile as Molgerus barked into his headset. The pompous ass was most likely dead. Urit knew Lazu, Gerun and Dasa were fearsome fighters. Not to mention the humans.
But that is their strength and weakness. I know how to deal with them.Urit turned back to the Brute Shipmaster. “No luck, I trust?”
Molgerus bared his teeth. “No. The intruders have spoiled well, it seems. Tralbus was a competent soldier-this bodes ill.”
Urit snorted. “He was a braggart. The question is, what do you intend to do next?”
Molgerus’ eyes flared. “I will take the pack and throw our might against these pathetic fools! And any who stand in our way-”he stepped closer, squeezing his hammer-”will be destroyed. Understood?”
Urit knew better than to slight him. Molgerus was infamous for his berserker rages. “Of course. I will stay here with the ship-”
Molgerus laughed harshly. “Oh, no. What kind of fool do you presume I am? I have not lived as long as I have by trusting sly, treacherous Sangheili. I will leave four here to keep an eye on things-”
“If I might offer a suggestion.”
They both turned, to see the new arrival striding up the ramp. It was a human, wearing grey fatigues, a cap and was in possession of a bushy grey moustache. He, along with five other rebels, had arrived in a ramshackle transport coated with stealth panels. Urit had no idea who he was, but Molgerus did-no doubt a fellow reprobate in an already-sordid coalition of criminals. Until now, he’d said nothing, just watched.
His steely eyes surveyed them. “I’m willing to leave my men here while you attack, Chieftain. That way you can bring more troops and still have your insurance.”
The Brute nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. But I will still leave two of my men here.”
Urit was still frustrated, but that was better. Two Jiralhanae and a rag-tag bunch of human rebels would be child’s play to an accomplished warrior such as himself. “So be it.”
“Good.” Molgerus faced his pack. “Arm yourselves! We go to deal death!” The pack began to howl, and gathered their weapons and equipment.
Urit turned away in disgust. Still, fifteen Jiralhanae was a potent force. It would be interesting to see what would happen next.
Molgerus went up to one of his other lieutenants. “You and two others must secure the human’s control room-they will attempt to take it, I am sure.”
“Yes, Chieftain, “the Brute growled.
****************************************************
“Here we are.”
Kyle stopped before a hatch, and turned to the group. “Put your space-*** back on; this room’s kinda….out in the open.” They immediately did so.
“Out in the open?” Xavier interjected, leaning against the bulkhead. “You mean this place is outside? The ship’ll see us and blast us to bits.”
Kyle keyed the button. “See for yourself.”
They stepped through into a cavernous room. This was the main hub of Habitat Gamma-doors throughout the room branched off to other sections-engineering, maintenance, the hangar bay on this side, and so on. What made it unique is that it had a recently installed dock-right in the middle of the room. Umbilicals weren’t always safe, so on the Lima the underside had been hollowed out, just below the room. The doors were currently closed, but if they were to open, the blackness of space would be seen. A compact scout ship, the
Caesar, was held in place by docking nodules and gripper clamps. Around the ship were several walkways. Below was the pit, and the door.
Evidently the
Caesar had only recently returned-crates and other supplies were neatly arranged everywhere. No weapons, unfortunately-just power cores, food, water and other equipment. A pair of massive roller doors lay at the far end-not unlike the rebel base’s. Horatio’s scalp prickled. It was a bad omen. He made for the ship, Terry trailing behind.
They gingerly made their way over the catwalks and entered the ship through its open hatch. “I’ll check the cargo hold, “Terry said, heading towards the darkened recesses of the ship. Horatio looked around-it was undamaged. Evidently the Brutes hadn’t gotten to it yet. The control panel was offline-yet there was something different about it. He strained to listen; was that a strange thrumming noise?
Terry came back, shaking his head. “Nothing major. Just some C-12 canisters. Enough for a decent explosion, but that’s it.”
“Too bad.” Horatio nodded at the console. “Think we could use this thing?”
Terry blew air out his cheeks. “Doubt it. The cruiser’s too tough for this birdy. Plus, what we need is inside the station.” He made for the hatch. “May as well leave it.” Horatio followed him.
They reported their findings to the team; Kyle shook his head. “No use to us. Xavier, grab the ordnance and-”
The roller doors slid open with a muted hiss, revealing a large pack of twelve Brutes. They were headed by a titanic figure clad in gold, with a massive hammer slung across its back. Seeing the group, it pointed and roared something. Moments later, Gerun yelled something back. “What did he say?” Kyle queried, slapping a clip into his battle rifle.
The Elite gave a grim half-smile. “He told me the pack would boil our entrails and feast on our unworthy flesh.” He drew his needler pistol. “We shall see.”
Suddenly, with surprising speed, the pack swung into action, hands reaching for weapons. “Get down!” Kyle cried, anticipating the first deadly salvo. Burning spikes, high-velocity grenades and hot plasma filled the air. The entire team hit the deck, and the battle was joined. Horatio threw himself behind a rack of metal pipes, and, poking his rifle over the top, returned fire. Beside him, Dasa, Gerun, Lazu, Ollie and Len did the same. Xavier and Kyle stayed back, lobbing grenades when the enemy ranks concentrated.
Ten Brutes dragged pieces of equipment to form a barricade, while another two tried edging around. The team was going to be trapped in a meat grinder, if they stayed much longer. “Terry, Benson!” Kyle snapped. “Head them off.” He jabbed a finger at the Brute pair sidling around the edge of the pit. Bullets were sent in their direction, and they ducked behind the
Caesar’s metal bulk. One, with a grunt, began pulling himself onto the hull.
They kept firing, and eventually the lone Brute became too bold. Its shielding failed, plasma hissing from the armour. Groaning, it dropped to one knee. A grenade, courtesy of Terry, blew the Brute off its feet and sent it tumbling into the pit. “Hah!” Terry laughed, when the second Brute hurled itself off the ship, and into their midst.
Snarling, it tore at Terry with large, graceless fingers. Benson, shouting in alarm, fired, but his shots were panicked, and drilled into the floor. Terry fumbled for his knife, and found it. He jammed it into his enemy’s thigh, and was rewarded with a howl of pain. He shot out his legs, and the alien rolled away, hands going for its own weapon.
Suddenly, Lazu was on the scene. Taking aim, he fired half-a-dozen shots into its head, and gore sprayed. “Keep up your guard, “he snapped at Terry, then returned to his position.
Terry turned to Benson. “You OK?”
The recruit swallowed. “Ye-yes. I’m fine-”
Sudden shouts-the Brutes their combative natures showing through, had charged their position. The pair rushed to help as the pack advanced on them. The first few went down easily enough, but more kept coming. “Scatter!” Kyle cried, and the team split up, firing their weapons.
Horatio huddled behind a crate, as Brutes spread out, firing after the fleeing squad. Frantically he looked for an escape route.
And his eyes alighted upon the
Caesar. Scrambling, he sprinted along the catwalk. Spikes flew alongside his head, but he made it and slammed the hatch. He turned, yelped at seeing Dasa.
The Elite looked grim. “I was forced to this vessel. We must help the others.”
“I know.” He looked about. “This ship has chain guns-if we can get this bird online we can use them.” He settled into the pilot’s chair and started flicking buttons.
Meanwhile, the rest of the squad had separated into three separate groups, all crouched behind more paraphernalia. Gerun and Xavier were near the roller doors, Kyle, Xavier and Len a side-door marked ENGINEERING, and Ollie and Lazu had evaded the Brute searchers, and remained on the far side. Benson was nowhere to be found. All of them were under heavy fire, however.
Kyle felt despair as a grenade blew a crate to bits. Soon they’d have no cover, and the Brutes would annihilate them. He prepared to run, as more projectiles chipped away at their defenses.
Suddenly a voice came over the radio. “Sarge, can you hear me?”
Kyle frowned. “Horatio, that you?”
“Yep. Can you see a switch for the trapdoor?”
He looked about, and saw a red panel. “Yeah, why?”
“Me and Dasa are in the ship. Open the doors, and we’ll take these bastards out. Hurry!”
“Copy that.” He turned to Xavier and Len. “Keep me covered. I’m going to open the doors.” By now, they knew not to ask questions-they simply nodded. Kyle took a deep breath, and sprinted for the switch.
Almost immediately, gunfire came his way. A spike buried itself in his shoulder. He gasped, but kept going. He felt for the switch, and pulled it.
With a deafening screech, the trapdoor opened. The howl of solar wind came through. Several Brutes had strayed too close to the edge, and disappeared, screaming, into the abyss.
Kyle turned, to have a fist smack into his jaw. He dropped, stunned, to see the livid form of the Brute chieftain. A bullet had struck his cheek, and maroon blood oozed from the wound. It grinned in a bestial fashion, and raised its hammer to strike.
That’s when the
Caesar came to life. Strobe lights lit up, engines roared. The docking clamps retracted, and the scout ship lifted into the air. The Brutes, only eight in number, ceased their attacks and stared, open-mouthed. The combination of solar wind and the thrusters noise was overwhelming. Even the chieftain half-turned, hammer loose in its hands.
The trance was soon broken, as the
Caesar’s weapons, swiveling, targeted the Brutes. Hundreds of armour-piercing rounds filled the air. The chieftain threw his arms back, his shields flaring so bright it looked as though he was on fire. The rest of the Brutes took cover-but one was pummeled with bullets, and dropped wetly to the ground, unrecognizable.
With an ululating scream, the chieftain pushed through the storm of gunfire and swung its hammer savagely. With a
whoomph, the chin gun was sheared off. The nose of the ship dented inwardly. The ship edged forward, heading for the wall, the apoplectic chieftain clinging to the front.
It hit the wall with a thunderous crash-but by this time the Brute had clambered upwards, and it only had one leg broken. Even then, it was agile. It roared something to its troops, and they resumed their attack. The ship was faltering now-it had suffered some serious damage.
Kyle knew they wouldn’t be able to win this fight-not yet, anyway.
“Alright soldiers, listen up! If we stay much longer we’re ***. Split up, and we’ll regroup once all these bastards are down. Ollie!”“Sir?”“Head to Central Control-the service tunnel is on your side somewhere. Find it, locate the AI and see what you can find out. Horatio!”“Sarge?”“Get out of here-find a place to dock. Hell, get aboard the ship if possible. Make contact with HighCom, maybe. The rest of you, find a hole and whittle them down.” There was a pause.
“Has anyone seen Benson?”Silence on the radio.
Kyle spoke again, a trace of regret in his voice.
“Alright then. Good luck guys, and stay alive. That’s an order.”He turned to Xavier and Len. “With me!” he said roughly. The trio bolted through the hatch, and slammed the door. Four Brutes were hot on their heels.
Gerun and Xavier ran through the roller doors and turned left, darting down a corridor. Three Brutes behind them.
Ollie and Lazu went through a nearby doorway, going down a derelict corridor. Ollie was consulting the Tacmap. “Nearly there, “he muttered. He stopped at a caged door, and thrust it aside. Ahead lay darkness.
He stepped back, and activated his flashlight. “This’ll take us to Central Control, if I can navigate us properly.” Ollie looked at Lazu. “Can you fit?”
The Elite grunted. “I shall manage.” He powered down his shields. The pair ventured into the darkness.
Back in the hub, the
Caesar, smoke trailing from its engines, descended down into the pit, and out into space.
Nobody saw the small figure, a pair of Spikers in its hands, made its way down into the pit. It used the blades on the weapons like the mountain climbers of old. A heating coil, ripped from a wall panel, acted as a harness, attached to a magnetic hook.
Benson had no intention of being a casualty, some second-rate grunt who would be brought down in the first few seconds of combat. Since that first fight in the colonnade, he’d realised. They were all survivors. But he wasn’t.
It was time to earn his keep. Besides, this squad needed a zero-gee specialist.
The small figure, now in space, crawled slowly towards the base of the cruiser.
************************************************
Molgerus limped his way along the seemingly endless corridor in a black rage. He’d forgotten just how irritating the humans could be, especially with their cursed Sangheili allies. Most of his pack was dead, brothers he’d fought with since the start of the war. And now he would be slinking back to that blackguard Urit, tail between his legs. Still, some of his warriors remained. At the very least, they would buy him some time.
He slammed a fist into the wall, grunting with satisfaction as he saw it dent. He keyed his radio. “Kradus, do you copy?”
The gruff voice of his last remaining officer came through his headset. “I hear you, Chieftain.”
“Do you still have the control room?”
“Yes, sir. We are keeping the vigil.”
“Good. Be alert-the humans are scattered throughout this orbital like parasites. Stay in readiness.”
“Aye, Chieftain.”
***************************************************
Kradus finished his transmission, only to see the blocked doors of the hatch blow open. Scraps of paper and metal rained down. An Elite stepped through, carbine up and firing. The three Brutes fired back, forcing him to cover. He beckoned to his two warriors. “Let him come to us.”
He activated his comlink, only to have it fizzle and crackle. He frowned, and removed his helmet to inspect it.
Ollie, lying down inside an air vent, chortled as he put away the pocket jammer. He had a perfect view of the room from here-the Brutes surrounding Lazu’s position. Sweet candy.
He also noticed the vast array of computers and screens-most had been destroyed or defaced. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The unsubtle methods of the Brutes infuriated him. He quietly prised off the access panel, and jammed down the trigger of his SMG-and threw a grenade for good measure.
In a matter of seconds the Brutes were down. Ollie jumped down, landing lightly on a desk. He went up to the main terminal. “Now let’s see…”
He inserted a few data spikes, dissipating the firewalls. Soon he was flying through the network. After a few minutes, he frowned in consternation.
Lazu approached. “What is it?”
Ollie jabbed a finger at the screen. “This doesn’t make any sense. There’s no trace of the AI ever being in this system. What’s more, the holo-tank’s data log is clear. No-one manually removed it.”
“What are you saying?”
“Somehow, the AI removed itself.”
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Horatio piloted the ailing scout ship around the situation, out of view of the cruiser. So far they’d had absolutely no luck in finding a berth. Dasa was getting frustrated.
He sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. The past few hours had taken a toll on him. He grabbed the controls and angled the ship down.
Suddenly red warning lights blared all over the control panel. Swearing in disbelief, he scrabbled for the buttons and switches on the dashboard. Dasa came thumping into the cockpit. “What’s happening?” the Elite demanded.
Horatio stared at the system with a growing panic. “I-I don’t know. It’s started going crazy, like it’s recalibrating itself…or something…”
The lights flared once, then blanked out. They were enveloped in darkness.
Then they re-appeared. And brighter than all of them, was a tiny figure, in the likeness of an Arabic hermit. Horatio looked at the figure. “Who are you?”
The hermit smiled. “I am Zack, commanding artificial intelligence of the space station
Lima. And I can help you defeat these interlopers.”
Dasa had a suspicious look on his face. “How did you make your way onto this vessel, construct? The Jiralhanae would have destroyed you, given the chance-so who was it?”
Zack snorted. “I did it, Sangheili. I am not as powerless as I appear.”
“But how?”
Zack’s eyes grew troubled. “By the use of the Forerunner relic aboard the cruiser.”
Horatio looked disbelievingly at the AI. “What the hell have you been doing?”
Zack sighed, and laced his fingers. “I suggest you sit down. This may take some time.”
EDIT: The annoying double sentences are gone, but some thoughts or radio transmissions are italicised. Sorry about that-just try to differentiate them. =)