Okay guys, 2 months to the day after I last posted… Ta dah! Sorry for the long waits; inspiration is a fickle mistress. Not that that's a valid excuse or anything, but that's the best, closest thing to one I've got. But hey, on the bright side, I've already gotten the next chapter half way finished, so another update coming your way soon, and not "2 months soon." ;D
I'm planning on review feedback in the next chapter (really just wanna get this thing up fast for you all :D). But, on that note, I've gotta thank you lovely lads and ladies (hmm, I actually kind of like that – rolls off the tongue. "Lovely Lads and Ladies… Lovely Ladies and Lads?" Uhh, anyways…) for all the awesome feedback and encouragement. I love you peeps so much for putting up with me. Anyways, I should probably put my foot down and say "I've written enough rambling author's note stuff today." So hey, hugs and kisses (erm, I rarely/never really say that aloud irl… seems so strange coming from me now), and enjoy…
SIX POV
"I don't know. She looks so much like him, I just don't know if I can handle it."
Alyss looked down blankly at the smiling, permanently-makeuped face between her hands. The frayed plush doll was designed to look like a clown, but its dull eyes and false grin offered no joy. Instead, the cobalt jumpsuit glued to its body reminded her of the figure she'd seen ghosting the forest trail on Arcadia almost a year prior. 11 months, 26 days, about 2 hours, she thought absently. She didn't keep it out of love, but she still looked at it, not wanting to forget.
"You're her last living relative whom we haven't checked with. Guardianship would either pass to you, or, if you refuse, the child would continue with social services until we find either an adopted family or a program suitable for her." The voice drifted through the screen door, engaged in a conversation the she'd witnessed from afar twice before. Shifting on the worn, wooden porch steps, she listened disinterestedly.
"I know, I know. But it's just- she's so quiet."
"She saw everything she'd ever known destroyed and watched her brother die."
There was a sigh. "I know. And I feel terrible about it. But I have three kids of my own, and would it really be good for them to be around such a petulant child?"
"I'm not saying she doesn't have problems. Her entire family was lost, and with nothing there to soften it for her. You must see how child has difficulty coping with these sorts of things, gets scars on the inside, and-"
The short, plump government man called Mr. Simons, who'd been trying to find her a home in the months gone by since hers was destroyed, set in on his practiced rant. Alyss had heard it all before, how he'd try to guilt-trip and explain that she herself was somehow broken inside. But I'm not, she argued internally. Besides, from the tone of this distant aunt's voice, Alyss already knew what the answer would be.
Shrugging to herself and the stuffed toy, she took to her feet and wandered away over small lawn of the suburban home. The scent of the freshly cut spears bleeding moisture beneath her feet was refreshing. It reminded her a bit of her abandoned home on Arcadia, except it was marred by the corrupt smell of pollution brought now and then by a warm breeze. It was an odor she couldn't abide, and it made her wonder how the people here could go to and fro with their lives, getting so used to the impure taint, to the off-colored sky, to the grimy layer that coated every surface, that they simply forgot what it was to live without it – to be able to see the stars staring back at night and fill one's lungs with an unspoiled breath. Or, for children who grew there, to not know that something better existed just a few dozen miles outside the city limits.
Cool shade caressed her skin as her legs thoughtlessly carried her scrawny figure right up to the weathered trunk of an aging tree. Oak, she identified, thinking back to Rory's books on flora and fauna of the universe. The titan plant stood tall and thick, a somehow-thriving reminder of the nature lost to the rest of the barren yard and sparsely cultivated neighborhood. She lifted a hand to touch it.
The bark was withered and cracked from age and trial's passed, but it still felt solid and warm against her young, unmarked skin. She marveled at surface, slowly walking around the trunk, the pads of her fingers drifting over each bulge and break.
It was on the far side that she saw it and stopped, fascinated-.
Just above her head, was a deep jagged hole in the surface. It was bordered by jutting shards and splinters, signs of something that had been torn out and wrenched away. A piece had been lost, taken, and the wound had never faded. Yet, the tree clearly had spit in the face of whatever force had caused the injury, reaching to the sky and branching out with a vitality absent in every other part of its environment.
Her fingers hesitantly found the surface of one of the largest splinters, and on a whim, tried to snap it. It was a struggle, and not until she rested her whole weight upon the hard wood did it breakk free.
The long shard was stiff and hard in her palm, a piece of core wood that had hardened and turned a deep greyish brown when forcefully exposed to the loss of other pieces of its whole.
"Alyss, child."
The sound of her name snapped the spell of her curiosity, and she quickly pocketed the oaken fragment, covering the bit that wouldn't fit in the space with the hem of her t-shirt. She hesitated to leave, looking down at the doll hanging loosely by an arm in her other hand. Its alien eyes stared up at her. It had been a comfortless companion, an association with her past. But looking at the tree before her, her heart unknowingly recognized it for what it truly was: a cruel shackle holding back the future. Bending, she set it at the base of the oak, nestling its insincere form between two gnarled roots.
"Alyss!"
"Coming," she called back. Shooting one last wide-eyed look at the darkened gap above her, she jogged away.
She found Mr. Simons standing beside the woman who was her supposed relative. She was staring at the ground as the young girl approached.
The social worker cleared his throat. "Alyss, dear, I'm afraid you won't be able to stay with your Aunt Claire's family. It appears they-"
"It's okay, I get it," she interrupted slowly. She looked up at the woman, who blushed and shifted uncomfortably at the attention. "Can I ask a question?" She didn't wait for confirmation. "Who planted that tree?"
The woman's cheeks paled a bit. "Your… your father and grandmother came to visit, a little over thirty years ago, when we were both kids. They thought the yard need a little something."
"What happened that made that big hole in it?"
"Aunt Claire's" eyes glazed over a little. "It was struck by lightning during a bad storm. Everyone made a big deal of it, because it was the same night your... father, went off-world. We all thought it would die out, but, I guess it proved us wrong."
Thinking of the shard nestled in her pocket, Alyss nodded at the explanation. She was so stuck in her thoughts, she didn't notice the grin curling across her lips.
KAT POV
Her helmet's exterior microphones dulled the explosion's roar, but the force caught Kat off guard. One moment, she was rushing through the control console's multi-colored mess of wires, and in the next things were flying across the room, herself included. She caught sight of Six's lower back slam into the console, the Spartan literally bouncing off the surface, body whipping with limp motion like a rag doll. She winced internally, though hardly able to process the scene as her own body hit the back wall before sliding to the cement floor.
And then it was over just as quickly as it had begun. From her position on the ground, the sound of rocking crates, electricity arcing nearby, and her own rushed breaths echoing inside her helmet seemed like a pleasant silence in the wake of the uproar. Traces of Covenant chatter outside, coupled with the sound of running feet which she was nearly certain weren't human, spurred her to fight through her confusion and formulate a plan.
Six… is down. Drop ship, too many for my pistol. Ugh, my stomach hurts. She looked down and grimaced at the sight of an angular shard of tin poking out of the flexible black under piece of her armor. No, doesn't feel too deep. Ignore pain. Must…do…something.
Footsteps were at the door, and she knew things weren't going to end well. Damn. I'm- I'm sorry Alyss. Kat resigned herself to the only course of action left. If she was going to die, it'd be with a pile of alien corpses beneath her feet. Gritting her teeth, she made to reach for her pistol holster.
"Don't move!"
The desperate command flooded in from her radio, catching her off guard. Two hesitated.
"If you want to live, Spartan, and see Alyss-B312 do the same, you won't lift a muscle." The urgent voice was distinctly female and undoubtedly human.
"You have three seconds to explain," she growled through clenched teeth, counting on her helmet to contain the sound.
"I'm repurposing the power from of your shields and external sensors to mask vital signs. Spartan-B312 is out cold, so she'll have no problem playing dead. I need you to trust me and do the same."
Kat's mind sprinted through the information, struggling to reach a decision; pull out her M6G and go out with her boots on, or entrust both her life and Six's to whoever this woman was, and maybe, just maybe, make it out of here. Make it out, or let those bastards kill them both without a fight. But there was a chance…
"Alright," she whispered.
"Thank you." The relief in the stranger's voice was palpable. "Ceasing communications. I need your radio's entire bandwidth."
Watching the radar HUD disappear from her visor's display, Two opened her mouth to acknowledged, but froze slack-jawed before the words came out.
A sangheili appeared above her, it's primarily silver armor shining dimly in the sparse lighting. She struggled not to react as it leaned in, its dark eyes searching her form from underneath the engraved crest of its decorated helmet. It stood there examining, plasma rifle clutched in tense fingers which directed the barrel at her torso.
Whoever you are, you'd better be right about this, she thought as something close to nervousness fluttered in her ribcage.
The moment seemed as though it would last forever, but finally, the creature's long mandibles twitched, and it called out something in its guttural native tongue. A similar voice replied, its source unseen. Whatever was said caused her observer to heft its weapon with one hand, shifting its stance but not leaving.
Kat watched, confused by the change until an intense force connected with her side, sending her body sliding a few inches and a sharp wave of pain through her nerves. Realizing she'd been kicked, she fought against her instincts, struggling to remain limp.
Her efforts must've been enough, for a moment later, the Covenant warrior left her limited field of vision.
Her breaths became easier as the aching lessened, but she still didn't dare move.
Seconds became minutes before her radio finally crackled to life.
"You're clear."
Kat was on her feet in a flash. The room was a jumbled disarray of damaged objects, much as she'd suspected. Spying Six's inert form beside the sparking console, she moved to kneel by it. "Who the hell are you?"
"The package."
The techie's eyebrows furrowed at the cryptic answer. "I'd like a straight answer." With a gloved hand, she gently rolled the unconscious Spartan over so that she lay flat on her stomach. Before she could continue the manipulation, something caught her eye. "Damn it!"
She reached down and gingerly detached Halsey's data core from its place on Alyss's back before holding it up to her visor for a better look. A harsh web of cracks and missing shards was all that was left of the hybrid polymer-glass surface that protected the now flickering blue light inside. Breaking away a few of the loose pieces with her titanium fingertips, she made to reach inside. A ray of cobalt light shot out before she could, startling her into nearly dropping the precious container. She watched curiously as the light became a rough, humanoid projection.
"We don't have time for introductions. My cell is losing power. I've taken the liberty of utilizing emergency backup measures to upload all files required for my preservation to Alyss-B312's suit." The body of light flickered, worrying the Two for a moment before it returned. "There are still hundreds of files of classified research data that must be delivered to the UNSC."
"Things aren't exactly that simple," Two groused.
"I've noticed," the AI replied wryly. It paused, for a moment. "You're being hailed by on a private channel."
"Emile," the Spartan suddenly recalled aloud. Looking at the limp form before her, she shook her head and sighed. "Put him through.
CARTER POV
"I'm up, I'm up," Carter mumbled sleepily, hoping it would appease whomever it was that kept poking him in the gut.
It didn't.
"Mom, just five more minutes..."
The prodding continued, unhindered. Letting out a hoarse groan, he let his eyes flicker open.
Hovering over his visor was a wide, smallish, dark face, covered completely by a bulky gas-mask save two large, curious eyes. The head cocked to the side, staring down at him. It was a moment before the Spartan realized what it was exactly that he was looking at. His hands seemed to figure it out before his head, one automatically darting up to clutch the things neck, the other going for his combat knife.
It struggled and squealed incomprehensible rubbish born of pure terror as the pressure increased on its windpipe. And then, it went limp, slumping out of sight as the super-soldier's glittering blade withdrew from its skull, coated in a sticky blue.
Groaning in effort, Carter braced his hands and sat up. The motion sent a wracking wave of pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth to it, refusing to cry out.
Wiping off the blade before returning it to its sheath, he glanced around. Where the hell am I?
Slowly, he slid from the Mongoose he'd been sleeping on. It was a movement accompanied by dull agony, or at least in comparison to that he'd done a moment ago. His heart and lungs reacted to the sensation, pulse quickening and breaths becoming shallow. Blackness swam across his vision, but he fought to maintain his consciousness and succeeded.
It took only a moment for him to realize he was standing on a lift of sorts in a rather large complex. It looked to be UNSC, but where exactly it was located, he hadn't a clue. The only other sign of life was the corpse of the nosey grunt oozing blood at his feet.
I doubt that thing came alone, he decided, and started searching for weapons. He quickly discovered his DMR and assault rifles were both missing from his back plate. His magnum, however, was still strapped to his thigh. Searching for extra clips, he opened up his tactical hard-case. Only two clips and… what's this?
Slowly, his hand withdrew, bringing a half-filled syringe labeled "Morphine" with it. "Well, I guess it's my lucky day." Finding a tear in his under-armor, which wasn't at all difficult thanks to the mangled state of his equipment, he quickly administered the drug, letting the empty syringe drop to the ground once it had run dry. Within moments the pain dulled and his vision cleared a little. Yet, it wasn't quite enough to bring comfort. Sighing and gritting his teeth, he crouched and pried his most recent kill's plasma pistol from stubby, lifeless fingers. Checking it over, he slid it into his holster, preferring to keep his M6G at hand.
Now what?
He didn't have to wait long for an answer.
A shotgun blast rung out, accompanied by a familiar roar. Emile.
"C'mon, who's next? You want some?" The shotgun sounded again.
Damn. Carter traced the sound to the roof, and limped over to the lift's controls. Scanning the panel, he found what he hoped to be the "up" button and hit it. The platform beneath his feet shuddered to life as he offered himself a mental pat on the back.
The scuffling feet and shouts of a serious fight became clearer as the lift neared the top. He re-activated his radio, tuning it into Noble's private frequency. Trying to get in the game, One double checked his clip and primed the action before finding the halt command on the console. Releasing a slight groan, he dropped into a crouch, and watched the lip of the roof draw near. With three feet left to go, he hit the button and ducked against the wall. His body cried out in agony at every move. Taking a deep breath and pushing away the pain, he rose from cover.
Noble Four was struggling hand-to-hand with a sangheili which stood a good foot taller than himself. Carter immediately placed the alien's armor as a Spec. Ops variant. Damn. Cloakers. Knowing what to look for, he easily spotted the watery space closing on Emile's flank. "I've got your back, Spartan." His voice was still hoarse from his prolonged silence, but he ignored the discomfort, opening fire as soon as he'd given his teammate the heads up.
His first shot took the Elite by surprise, striking its torso. The second and third found its skull before its cloak could stabilize, sending it to the ground.
Carter's eyes roved the scene, searching for another tango. He didn't spot it until it was almost too late. "At your six! Duck!"
Emile immediately disengaged his opponent, dropping into a shoulder roll. A half-second later, an energy sword sliced through the space he'd been a moment prior. One's pistol rang out, and the creature immediately turned on him, sprinting to cover the ground between them. He tried to pick out sensitive places, firing nonstop at the charging enemy.
It dropped dead just two feet away, but its momentum carried it further. Carter ducked just as it soared over him, the corpse slam into the lift's rusting safety rail and come to a halt.
The encounter had made him realize just how bad his position was. This was a melee fight. His cover wasn't just useless; it left backed into a corner.
Half sliding, half crawling, he moved over to the alien's inert form. He was lucky. Its weapon still rested in its limp hand. Flipping his magnum into his left hand, he confiscated the dark, polymer cylinder. He took to his feet, jogging back towards the battle and levering himself up onto the roof. "Noble, catch!"
Emile, having dispatched his previous enemy with a knife to the throat, was now locked in a wrestling match with what seemed to be the final opponent, this one sporting its own energy blade. He landed a hard hook on the beast's jaw, buying him half a second. Turning, he looked up just in time to pluck the cylinder from the air with one hand. Carter watched his teammate flick his wrist, an energy sword appearing around his hand with an audible hum. Emile twisted around, firmly imbedding the blade in the elite's torso before jerking it upwards. The alien's mandibles fluttered with shock as the blade was pulled from its body, just shy of its head. It fell a moment later, muscles still writhing with wrath that would never be unleashed.
"Noble, what's the situation?" Carter made his way over to Emile, who was fishing his shotgun out from underneath a bloody corpse.
"Besides you coming back from the dead, sir?" The grin on the Spartan's face was audible. "Not good. Pelican's on its way for evac, and we've gotta keep this AA gun running."
One nodded and moved to the control seat. "Got it. Watch my back. What about Two and Six?"
Emile began reloading his weapon. "Went for the cannon's off-sight controls. They were going to uplink DOT, but a drop ship came in low and went straight for it. I haven't been able to re-establish contact since."
Carter grimaced as he sat down. "Six still has the package?"
"Yes, sir."
"Keep hailing them. When evac's one klik out, if they haven't responded, you'll run retrieval."
"Got it, sir." Carter heard Emile pump his shotgun and take position behind the gunner's seat. A moment later, his helmet crackled to life with Noble Four's hailing call.
Carter just wished for a response. He'd seemingly already dodged death's grip once today. Locking his sights on an inbound Phantom, he just hoped he wasn't the only one running on Luck's good side.
There you have it. Felt a bit slow, but necessary. Tell me watcha all think!
