Chapter 3

Losing any sense of time, Nick felt his skin crawl at the sight of the giant enemy ship breaking through Earth's upper atmosphere. Burning UNSC projectiles seem to bounce off its shields or be lost in pursuit as point-defense systems shot them down. It was a sobering image, and Nick couldn't take his eyes off of the scene.

"Nick? Hello? Nick!" The shouting of his name did little to distract him, but a firm grip on his shoulder spun him around to face Itchy. "What are you still doing here?" the bald-headed private blurted out between catching his breath. "Major Dunnell's calling for a full evacuation, and there's only like four ships docked."

Nick shrugged off Itchy's grip and picked up his radio. "Why aren't you down at the docks already?"

Even in the moment of chaos, Itchy smiled and patted his shoulder-slung pack. "I had to swing by my room and pick up my stash," he whispered. "Time to relocate and find new business opportunities, you know?"

Nick shook his head, too caught up in the moment to think about the penalty for Itchy being caught with pickup sticks. Itchy always did his best to hide the stains on his teeth, but selling to the dock workers was pushing his luck. "Just c'mon. The whole station is probably already loaded up by now."

As they took off down the main corridor, flashes of light from the battle went off like strobes through the exterior windows. With each thundering footstep he took, Nick wondered if the Covenant would even care about the strategic advantage—or disadvantage—of a space tether. Didn't they have those fancy beam transport things anyway?

The first explosion happened before the two privates were ever near the docks. The second and noticeably larger explosion came just seconds after. It rumbled the floor and sent dust clouds from the piping above. Nick stopped and Itchy followed suit, nearly slamming into the back of him. "What the hell was that?" He reached to activate his radio, but the hiss coming for its tiny speaker told him static would mask anything he tried to say or hear. "Those blasts sounded like they came from the docks."

Itchy brushed past him and ran to a wall terminal. They were now in the Shipping and Receiving Wing where private companies had to register their goods for transport. Wall terminals filled the place, ranging from simple chatterlinks to fulltime holo access. Itchy swiped his badge through the slot and began firing away at the keyboard. "That sounded big, whatever it was."

The S & R Wing was dark, except for the emergency glowpanels—like everywhere else aboard the station, and Nick desperately wanted to do something other than wait for Itchy to finish his inquiry. Suddenly the viewscreens displaying emergency evacuation information above the main kiosk winked out. Then another set of viewscreens to his right powered down. Nick followed the pattern with his eyes and the entire Wing's information monitors went dark.

"Hey!" Itchy exclaimed. When he looked up and saw that his terminal wasn't the only one that was affected, he walked over to stand by Nick. "Power failure?"

Before Nick could reply, the monitors flickered on and off several times before finally displaying a static image of the UNSC crest. The screens then began to show different security cam views of the entire station, views that only the chief security officer had privilege to. Cycling through almost three dozen images on each monitor, the two main viewscreens affixed atop the information kiosk displayed security cam feeds labeled "Dock 1-2A" and "Dock 2-2B". What was happening on those screens sent a chill down Nick's spine.

"No way," he breathed. The view of Docks 1 & 2 showed massive structural damage, as if some giant beast had taken a bite out of the north most portion of the station. Atmosphere was most certainly lost and there were no signs of shuttle craft or the bulk freighters that should have been docked there. I hope the Major got some of our people off safely.

Itchy stabbed a finger at the right monitor. "Look!"

On the screen the purple tell-tale shape of a Covenant Phantom came into view, casting a trio of search lights into the aftermath of the destruction. A slender transport followed with an awkward looking attachment on its front end: a long tube with a claw. When it grafted to an interior wall off camera and sent a slight tremor through the station, Nick knew what it was. "Boarding craft." He threw Itchy a panicked look. "We have to get out of here, now."

Itchy threw his satchel over his neck, wearing it like a medic bag, and looked around the room, helpless. "Where are we gonna go? The Covies are coming in through the docks."

"And they'll be on top of us soon." Nick felt his hands begin to shake. He had no idea what to do. The emergency evacuation procedures were all null and void now, and he and Itchy probably had about a minute before they had company. He knew they couldn't defend against a Covenant boarding party, let alone find enough rounds in time to push them back and hail the UNSC for an evac.

The two main viewscreens winked out again, but the image was now replaced by a building diagram of the station. The view zoomed in and the S &R Wing overview filled the screen. Red arrows pulsed directly towards the way Itchy and Nick had just come from. On the multitude of monitors around them, red arrows filled the room, pointing them back down the corridor.

Nick felt his jaw drop. "What the hell is this?"

"Directions?" Itchy said, already turning around and starting for the main corridor. "But someone or something is telling us to get out of here before the Covies waltz in here, and right now that's the only idea that's making any sense."

Nick growled a sigh and ran along in itchy's wake. As they flew down the corridor, wall displays repeated the red arrow pointing, and Nick's confusion grew. "Where is this taking us?"

"Hell if I know, but . . ." Itchy slowed his pace when he came around the corner.

Nick stopped next to Itchy and frowned. The red arrows that had led them this far were now bracketing the double doors that led to the station's main elevator plaza. Then it clicked in his head. "Oh, no. You can't be serious." He keyed open the door and stepped through to the plaza. The giant room held the hundreds of storage pods that transferred the cargo from New Mombasa up to the tethered station, and Nick took a health guess that this was some smartass' idea of escape.

Itchy walked past him and stared up at the cavernous space. "I guess we have no choice." He turned around and looked at Nick. "You ever hear of anyone using these pods for personnel transport?"

A muffled explosion back down the corridor answered for Nick. "No time like the present." He pushed Itchy forward. "C'mon, the Covies will be all over this station in seconds."

They ran towards the central structure that housed the pods' send and release mechanism. One of the giant pods was still in the clamp, set for departure, while the receiving tube had a flashing red light above it. Nick searched for some sort of control panel but found none. "Do you know how this thing works?"

Itchy shrugged and started for a set of grated stairs attached to a cylindrical formation that more than likely housed the clamps gears and power supply. "I sold to a couple guys that ran this thing and if I remember correctly . . ." When he made it to the top of the platform, he nodded. "Found it! Now we have to . . . wait. Don't touch anything."

Itchy clambered down the steps and ran over to the pod in holding. "This pod is already sealed so when it travels down the elevator and through the Earth's atmosphere it won't lose its integrity. Let's open it up and clear out some space for ourselves."

Nick shook his head at the craziness of the entire idea. He hit the access panel on the pod and it hissed open to reveal pallets full of military cargo boxes. He pulled the shipping manifest from the compartment on the interior side of the pod's door and read it off. "UNSC shipment straight from Reach bound for Indigo Base in New Philadelphia. Mostly weapons, but a there's a few containers of MRE's we could pull out that are light enough for us to grab."

"Do it quickly." Itchy helped him with the first box and realized how light they were. "You can get this done, but I need to prep the clamp on some sort of a timer release."

Nick chucked another box onto the ground. "You know how to do that?"

"No, but I'll try." Itchy vanished from view, up the steps.

Nick had almost carved out a large enough space for both of them to stand comfortably in the pod when he heard the alien voice echo in the plaza. He froze, trying to see from which exit the conversation was coming without turning his head, but Itchy had been too consumed with the controls and didn't hear it.

"Nick, I think I found it! Actually, I think the program is running itself. I really didn't do anything."

He swore to himself. "Shut up, Itchy!" he hissed.

But it was too late. The barking of orders from a Sangheili was answered by the squeaks of a trio of Unggoy, and green plasma began to spew out from the portside exit. A burst struck one of the MRE boxes lying on the ground and it melted the packages in an instant. Another series of blasts peppered the floor and the base of the stairwell, sending shards of superheated concrete and metal flying.

"Itchy, get down here!" Nick grabbed the pod's door and opened it wider, using it as a shield while still being able to see the stairwell. With his back up against the door he saw Itchy's face appear then disappear around the bend in the steps.

"I'm pinned down!" Itchy swore out loud and Nick could hear him pull out his shockstick and prime it. The Major had protested against the security team using actual firearms during patrol duty and restricting access to MA5B's and M6's only in the Armory, and it didn't make their current predicament any easier.

Nick looked back at the crates stacked next to the MRE's in the pod and his eyes read the various labels in a hurried panic. There. He reached for a crate labeled "M392 DMR" and pulled it off the top. The crate came down in a crash on the floor and Nick cursed when he saw an electronic lock on it. He primed his own shockstick and looked away as he touched it to the lock near the central handle. There was a sizzle and a brief flash of light. The lock had short-circuited and Nick kicked the lid open. Neatly sandwiched between folds of foam, six long-barreled rifles were ready for use.

He grabbed the bottom rifle and the adjacent magazine and slammed it home. "Get ready to move, Itchy," he called back up. "I'll give you covering fire, and then you make it down here."

"Got it!"

Nick had fired rifles before, in training and back home in Kentucky with his friend Jason. He was never formally trained on DMR's, but he knew how to shoot. Although, shooting at targets and hunting deer was another thing entirely than right now. There were living beings bent on his death or worse, capture, that could only lead to a more painful, slow death. He and Itchy had to get out of here and he had to give them a fighting chance.

Placing the butt of the rifle against his right shoulder, he spun around and surveyed the plaza. Coming through the double doors were four Grunts and one towering Elite, firing at Itchy intermittently. They were out in the open and fair game to Nick. He raised the DMR and looked down the sight. His first shot at the lead Grunt went high and ricocheted off the back wall, but his second shot hit the alien square in the head, knocking it back onto its squadmate. "Itchy, move!"

The Grunts stopped firing, bolting for cover, and Itchy flew down the steps, typically making as much noise as possible. Aiming down his sight, Nick tried to fire off another round at the fleeing Grunts, but he pulled his head away from the DMR when he saw the Elite march forward through the breaking ranks of underlings. The towering alien didn't even flinch and started directly towards Nick. "Hurry it up, Itchy!"

"Hold on," he pleaded, landing hard at the base of the steps. The Grunts were now regrouping behind a pair of empty containers while the Elite kept coming forward. Itchy was smart enough not to risk a glance over his shoulder and dove for the safety of the pod's large door. He landed in a thud at Nick's feet. "I'm here," he gasped. "Now let's go!"

"One sec." Nick aimed down the sight again, targeting the massive Elite's chest. He fired twice. The two shots hit the alien square in the chest, but had almost no effect, other than its shields wavering for a few seconds. If anything, it made the Elite increase its pace and it reached across to its left hip and pulled and a handled device. The Elite squeezed it and a dual, sharp-edged shape appeared in the form of glowing white energy. The Elite would be on them in a matter of seconds.

Nick heard a hinge creak and then felt a forceful tug against his shoulder. Itchy pulled him inside the storage pod as the door closed before them. Nick hit the corner of the DMR on the door's frame and the jolt sent the weapon spinning out of his hands to land outside the pod. He gave Itchy a look of pure disdain, but the light in the pod soon disappeared as the door locked into place. Inside the pod, the internal pressure neutralized and Nick felt his ears pop.

Outside, he could hear plasma rounds burn into the pod followed by a tremendous thud, which could have only been the Elite arriving a little too late. The alien pounded at the door but to no effect. Nick wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but the darkness left as much uncertainty to their fate as the hope that the clamp's automation process would begin before the Covenant found out how to open the pod.

Fate, it seemed, was on their side, and the clamp grasped the brackets along the sides of the pod, lifting it up effortlessly and placing it on the SEND pad. Grabbing hold of one the crates inside the darkened pod did little to keep their feet assured, and both privates were tossed like sailors aboard a ship in stormy seas.

Nick bent down on his knees, hoping to limit his movement, and felt around his beltpack for his glowlamp. He pulled the light out and activated the switch, bathing the pod's confined interior with a yellow glow. Itchy was likewise on the floor of the pod, holding a few crates that had loosened from their restraints to keep them from tumbling onto him. Nick fought the disorientation and stood to push the crates back in place. Together they both secured the crates and returned to their place on the floor.

Both men were breathing heavily and the limited air in the pod wasn't going to relieve them anytime soon. Nick reached out and touched Itchy's shoulder and nodded his head with his breathing. They slowed their breath down together and Nick could already feel slightly more relaxed. "What now?"

Itchy shrugged uncomfortably. "The SEND pad should just—"

Without warning, gravity left the pod as it was opened up to the weightlessness of shooting down the Tether. Holding on to the nearby crates and each other, Nick watched Itchy's face, wondering if he was feeling as queasy as he was. "Just hold on. This shouldn't take more than what, 30 minutes?"

"Hell if I know." Itchy winced and reached behind his back. When he pulled away his hand it was caked in blood. "I don't think I got away so clean," he said, pushing out the words with increasing difficulty.

Nick's eyes went wide and he pulled out his medpack. "Turn around, Itchy. Let me see how bad it is."

Rotating with labored breath, Itchy faced away. "Just don't tell me I'm going to die."

Nick didn't answer, but from the look of the wound he knew Itchy had to get to a medtech soon. He unpacked the medical supplies and peppered the bleeding portion of Itchy's lower back with the insta-skin applicator. He didn't know if it would help stop the bleeding, but it was something he could do. Nick finished up by wrapping Itchy's lower back with the largest bandage supplied with the kit.

"Just breathe slowly, Itchy." Nick wanted to say something else, something more inspiring about how they had just gotten out of a very tough situation and lived to tell about it, but with his injury, Itchy wasn't in the conversing mood. More than enough adrenaline was racing through Nick, and the events of an early morning were nothing short of spectacular, but Nick wondered if there was safety awaiting them in New Mombasa.

Something deep down told him it was a far-fetched fantasy.