THE REFUGEE

ONE

2nd YEAR OF FALL, TITAN, SOL SYSTEM, 2556

Jacen Pearce was positive the Grunts were up to no good.

The stout little aliens waddled about the derelict human compound they'd settled within, built up around one of the moon's multitude of methane and ethane lakes that smeared its frigid surface. There were hundreds of them, all moseying about with their daily tasks that ranged from structure maintenance, to methane supply runs, or to general quarreling amongst one another. The quarreling happened often, which was expected. They were huddled in tight groups, living in structures purposed human life. Nevertheless, it was their makeshift home.

Home.

The hell did that word even mean anymore? It used to mean so much more than it did now. Back when home was where you felt comfortable, where you felt safe. Back when you thought monsters were born from humans, not space. Titan wasn't so much a home as it was a prison, a forgotten prison of rock and ice with a perpetual hazy orange atmosphere that you could barely see through. Jacen found that appropriate. You can't see them and they can't see you. Out of sight, out of mind.

Jacen pulled back from the scope of his M395 DMR, resting his cheek on the rifle's stock. He lay prone on the ground, nestled atop the summit of a lowland mound that provided a less-than-stellar view of the alien compound. It wasn't as inconspicuous as he would've liked, but it was the highest elevation available for miles. He felt exposed, feeling as if he was wearing a giant here I am sign strapped to his chest. But he knew, mostly, that they'd hadn't spotted him. They never did. Or if they had, they simply didn't care. They appeared oblivious to everything around them, but it obvious they didn't like the cold. An average surface temperature of -290 ˚F would discourage anything from being outside. But there they were, taking it in stride in their silver protective armor that undoubtedly kept their stocky bodies from freezing.

Jacen shifted his body, the slushy soil crunching underneath him like wet sand. He'd have to make a move soon, but the timing just felt off. There would never be an ideal time, he reasoned. He could wait another few days, a week perhaps. No, it wouldn't make any difference. He needed to get inside to see what they were up to, to see if they were a threat, to see if they were hiding anything. There was just so many of them outside today.

"Jeez, don't they ever stop screwing?"

Jacen glanced to his right at the body lying prone next to him, dressed head-to-toe in desert patterned thermal fatigues. The face was obscured completely, encased within a thick balaclava, polarized tactical shades, and a breathing apparatus. Not a decimeter of skin was visible, and even the torso, thighs, shins, and forearms were embraced with body armor similar to that of reinforced Kevlar. Jacen wouldn't have known Naomi was inside the suit if she hadn't said anything.

"They've already outnumbered us."

Jacen couldn't disagree with her. The Grunts reproduced at an alarming rate, and it would only be a matter of time until they'd need to expand their territory. If he was a betting man, he'd guess they were maybe a little over 300 of them. In a few months' time, however, they could well be in the low thousands. He didn't even want to think about their numbers in the term of years.

"We need to trim their numbers," Naomi added. She brought up her scoped MA37 rifle, picking the dirt from the optic. "Control their breeding, y'know."

Jacen voiced a mild grunt. "We don't have the people for that."

"I could scrounge up some volunteers, get a small team together," Naomi persisted.

"You'd be lucky to convince two, maybe three." Jacen pulled the scope back up, running along the body of the compound until he rested on its western corner. "Besides, we'd risk them retaliating."

Jacen didn't need see Naomi's face to know she'd scoffed at what he said. The way she hunched her shoulders and looked out into the vast emptiness across the moon's landscape was an obvious giveaway. Her attitude had grown more cavalier lately, more reckless in the view of the Grunts. They may've been the black sheep of the Covenant, but that didn't make them any less dangerous than the other species. They'd easily kill you just as well. No, they weren't highly intelligent, but what they lacked intellect, they overcame in sheer numbers. All too often Jacen could recall watching a legion of the little squirts overrun a superior military stronghold, even when he soldiers had the initial advantage. He wouldn't underestimate them.

"Let's get back to the Hog." Jacen slowly receded from the hill, not turning his back to the compound until he knew he was out of sight. "We'll cruise around to the west. May have spotted an entry point there."

Naomi said nothing in reply and got to her feet. She slung the tethered rifle over her torso, adjusting the pack on her shoulder that was mostly empty. By the time they were done here, she hoped the pack would be well stocked.

The two of them hoofed it back to the civilian Warthog they'd parked several hundred yards away, cloaked underneath a brownish-green mesh cover. Jacen ripped the cover away from the hood on back, wading it up into ball before throwing it into the rear bed. He went back to the hood and pressed his hand against the scratched and dented metal. A measure of heat slipped into his fingers. Good, the warmer hadn't shorted out. Vehicle maintenance in such harsh temperatures was a necessity more than a semi-annual luxury of times' past. An engine left idle would freeze over in minutes. A useless block of frozen metal in the middle of nowhere.

Jacen pulled himself into the driver's seat and hit the ignition. He tensed as the Hog struggled to start, but a few revs of the engine brought the sputtering vehicle to life. White exhaust swirled from the muffler. Naomi was already in the passenger side, resting her rifle on her lap as he held her hand over where mouth would be. She kept her eyes transfixed on the side-view mirrors, half expecting a legion of Grunts to come charging over the hill with plasma pistols firing. Their body armor could barely stop a bullet, let along boiling plasma. The UNSC left them nothing.

The Hog pulled off with a jerk, tires churning up the soft surface like sand. Jacen took a wide angle, circling outside of the compound. It was well out beyond the Grunt's view, but definitely not out of earshot. The moon was unsettling quiet; and winds near the surface rarely exceeded 1km per hour, blowing just gentle breeze. Jacen hoped the Grunts made enough of their own racket to drown out the Hog's aggravatingly boisterous engine. In the event they were spotted, they'd abort, wait a month or so, and try again. Third time had to be the charm, he hoped.

Jacen maintained a steady pace, pushing the vehicle at just above 56kph. He occasionally looked east, making sure the hills and rocky outcrops concealed his approach. More than that, any faster, and he'd send the Hog flying if he accelerated over an unseen elevation. Another aggravation. With surface gravity slightly less than that of Earth's moon, anything had the capacity to become airborne. The last thing they needed were the Grunts watching a human vehicle arching in the distance.

"This is good." Naomi sat up in her seat, casually gesturing to a set of oblong rocks jutting from a formation. "We'll hike the rest of the way."

Jacen put on the breaks, turned in at angle between the rocks, and cut the engine. He checked to make sure the heat generator was still pumping heat before getting out. Satisfied, he snatched up his rifle and slipped his pack over his shoulders. Naomi was behind him, slipping the cover back over the Hog. She fished a few extra clips from the crate in the vehicle's bed, sliding them in her chest rig before tossing a few Jacen. He winced, reluctantly taking them. If this went well, he hoped they wouldn't have to use them.

It took under twenty minutes for them to reach the compound, stopping just fifty yards out. They settled in behind a checkpoint booth, surprised the Grunts weren't utilizing it. It was a perfect zone for a lookout, as it gave a near 180˚ panoramic view of the landscape. You'd be able to see anyone approaching from several miles out, easy. Jacen didn't know if it was ignorance on the Grunt's part or not. Maybe they just didn't care that a human settlement was just over 250km south of them. They certainly knew they weren't the only living species on the moon.

Jacen felt a tug at his fatigues. He looked left to see Naomi crouched low inside the booth, pointing up.

"Sentries," she said in a whisper. "See 'em?"

Jacen immediately made himself as small as possible and crept into the booth. Naomi edged to the side, pressing her back the wall as Jacen positioned himself where she once was. He eased his head up to peer through the booth's window with spiderweb fractures across its surface. There, on the fringes of the compound's flat roof, were a pair of Grunts with sighted carbines in their stubby arms. Jacen could just barely make out their fully masked faces, surveying from side to side like a house fan.

"That's new." Jacen reached into his chest rig, pulling out a silencer. He twisted it on the end of the barrel. "They're learning to look out for us."

Naomi swore under her breath. "Must've been Aaron's team that spooked 'em. I told him he was taking too many guys."

"No. I think they're just cautious. Like us." Jacen raised his rifle, juggling with the temptation to take a shot or not. He was confident he could down both of them fairly quickly. The first shot would spook the other, delay reaction time; the second wouldn't know what hit it by the time it knew what was up. He ultimately decided against it. There was probably more than one of them of the roof. They'd raise the alarms.

He panned down from the sentries, running down the structure's weathered frame and examined the open garage entry for the vehicle depot. At his angle, he couldn't make out whether there were human vehicles inside or not. If there were, they'd be beyond functionality, but may still hold viable parts they could haul back to camp.

"I have our entry point," Jacen announced. "Vehicle depot."

Naomi shuffled up beside him, set her tactical shades to 3x zoom. She heavily winced under her mask, sweeping her eyes across the grey canopy that extended out from the depot. "They'll see us. There's no cover between this booth and the depot. That's a…" She estimated the long strip of paved asphalt that ran from the checkpoint booth to the surrounding structure. "… 50, 55 yard sprint."

"I'll take care of that," Jacen ensured. "Just ready to run."

Naomi wasn't sold, not by her sloth-like movements to the edge of the booth. She uttered something that Jacen couldn't catch. He still couldn't comprehend just what the hell was wrong with her today. Cantankerous was the word for it, although she probably wasn't far from being pissed. Whatever. Jacen wasn't a psychiatrist.

"I'll fire a shot. One shot," he told. "It'll startle the sentries, give us some time to hustle in there."

Naomi nodded without a word or protest. She held her rifle in one hand and gripped the edge of the booth with the other with legs primed for takeoff.

Jacen lined up his sights, moving the scope over the roof's edge. He took aim for the concrete lip, just left of the first sentry. Finger within the trigger guard, he turned to Naomi and nodded once. She held a thumbs up.

He fired.

The silenced round coughed from the rifle, striking the lip of the roof. Bits of concrete blossomed out from the impact like a popped balloon. The sentry shrieked, nearly dropping its weapon. It composed itself, building up enough courage to make a slow waddle to where the sound occurred. The second sentry took notice and went to investigate, oblivious to the human that darted from behind the checkpoint booth.

Jacen and Naomi didn't stop. Their boots struck the hard asphalt with repeated thuds, the momentum carrying them in the low gravity. The outside world was unknown to them, their focus tight on the depot opening. Jacen heard nothing but boots striking asphalt, his own breath, and the blood rushing through his ears. Nothing else mattered but getting inside and to check to make sure they weren't seen. It crossed his mind that Grunt's may've been in the garage, but he was willing to assume it was clear. Grunts didn't favor the cold, which was all the more puzzling of why they chose to settle on one of the coldest moons in the Sol System.

Once they made it under the canopy, the two of them practically dove into the garage, stopping themselves the corner wall. Underneath his mask, Jacen grinned humorlessly, sucking in all the air his breathing unit would supply. Naomi was one knee, heaving air as she aimed her rifle in the depot that was dimly laminated by the natural light outside. There was no movement from what she could gather. She kept looking. Grunts were midgets; they could easily hide behind tall cover.

Jacen eventually caught breath, having to hold it for a few seconds just to hear his surrounds. It was all quiet, save for the goings-on that the Grunts were causing. With no immediate squelches from inside the depot, he could only gather that it was empty.

There were indeed vehicles—old and unused. A pair of military-grade Warthogs were parked side by side, stripped of their tires and brakes. One of the hoods was propped open. Jacen went over to look inside. The engine was completely done, leaving just a busted radiator. An alternator, rusted over, was lying on the floor underneath.

Naomi was digging around in the second Warthog's hood, occasionally looking up to make sure her search wasn't loud enough to give away their position. There was nothing of use. Leave it to the Grunts to not give a crap about human engineering.

"Airlock." Jacen pointed to the sealed doors sitting back on a platform in the back of the garage.

Naomi set her eyes on it. "Think it's still operational?"

Jacen only grunted. The compound was one of the first built on the surface, and that was before the war. Chances were, considering its condition, that it was abandoned either when the war just began or a few years after. It'd be a miracle if anything worked in this place.

They approached the airlock, looking it over with inquisitive eyes. Grunts must've had some method of ingress and egress.

"Naomi…" Jacen's tone was one of diluted surprise, a hushed secret. He gestured to the operation panel beside the airlock's doors.

Naomi stepped across the floor stained with old oil stains, brows furrowed at the sight. The panel was holding steady in standby mode, lit up by a dull orange hue. It just needed someone to touch it. She looked into Jacen's face, only catching her own reflection in his silver shades. "Electricity?"

Jacen shrugged. "It's worth a test."

Naomi positioned herself beside the panel, signaled Jacen to stand ready. She made a fist, gently hitting the panel with the side. It flashed green and the first set of doors parted open.

A working airlock? It couldn't have been possible. Maybe the Grunts weren't as dumb as they thought, or maybe the little buggers syphoned off fuel reserves to power up the on-site generators. Not likely. The generators would be old and frozen over. Covenant tech was probably running the place.

Jacen went into the airlock first, rifle moving in sync with his eyes. Nothing appeared to be out of order. Just a standard seven foot box of metal in the shape of an elongated octagon. The next set of doors remained shut, unable to be opened until the enclosed space was vented of foreign matter and flushed with atmosphere. He turned to Naomi and waved her in.

She crept inside, fingers fiddling around the trigger guard as the doors shut. Red lights flashed twice as the sensors picked them up. Nozzles once filled with sterilization vapor pivoted back and forth, spraying nothing. Once the siren ceased, a familiar weight crashed down on them that nearly brought them to their knees.

Naomi caught herself from falling. She looked up at Jacen. "Gravity, too?"

Jacen steadied himself with an arm against the frame. Electricity. Gravity. Yep, the Grunts were definitely up to no good.