Hey everyone, just wanted to quickly say here that I'll be posting updates every so often—and I stress the often—on my profile. If you want to see how my work is going and things like that, you can mosey on over there from time to time. It won't be super often, but from time to time there might be something. When I have more time on my hands, I'll post more updates more often. Anyways, enjoy the chapter, sorry for the long wait. Oh, and there's a bit of a graphic scene, not too bad but just keep it in mind for lighter readers.
Chapter 10: Batavia
There was snow falling. Biting wind made the trees sway. Their trunks creaked and moaned. Booted feet crunched in the fallen snow that coated the hard ground. Vivian found herself looking up at a man in battle armor, looking down at her with soulless, icy eyes. He spoke, but the words were a distorted, almost inhuman garble. He then threw something to Vivian. She caught it. It was a pistol, a sleek black one she had never seen before. Her hand, shaking, raised the pistol, aiming at his head, and she pulled the trigger, resulting in a blinding white flash.
Vivian sat up abruptly, coated in sweat that made her tank top cling to her. She looked around. Instead of a strange forest she instead saw her cabin, made of steel and titanium. It was dark, and the only sound to be heard was her own panting.
She ran a hand down her face. The past few nights in slipspace had been torture. Dreams of Frost plagued her. When she was awake, she felt fearless, like a hunter, searching for her prey. But at night, she was the prey, and Frost's shadow stalked her.
After calming down, Vivian checked the time. It was twenty minutes until she had to get up and head to the bridge. She decided to get up now, going back to sleep for another twenty minutes would have been pointless.
Slowly, she got up from the bed. The room was hot, and her body ached as if she were on old woman. A quick shower brought some life back into her, and she began brewing some coffee to take to the bridge. Even after the shower she still had around fifteen minutes. Vivian found that comforting. It reminded her of watching the morning news during high school, watching the names of schools that were closed or putting delayed openings into effect due to heavy snowfall or icy conditions. Skopje had long winters and was a generally cool planet year round. Vivian had loved watching the first snows of the year from their apartment window. Even with 26th Century technology, weather still reigned supreme. Lionel City was at least shut down once a year due to snow. No traffic, no pedestrians on the street, no sirens, no horns, no shouting. Sometimes spacecraft wouldn't even land. The city would just stop, frozen by the snow. Sometimes she'd look out over the plains, at the distant mountains and forests, green and gray intermixed with white, the snow hiding rebels who drifted in the woods and lived in the mountains.
Vivian took a sip of coffee and scooped up her datapad. She had a message. When she opened it, she saw it was from the newly promoted Captain Kelly.
Re: Ship Name Change
Ever heard of Jakarta? It's the capital city of Indonesia. But a long time ago it was called Batavia. But I didn't name her after that. There was an old trading ship by the same name operated by the Dutch in the 17th Century. There was a mutiny and she was wrecked and the crew and passengers were all split up. One group sailed in lifeboats, some soldiers were left on a nearby island, and the main group settled on another island. On that island, one of the mutineers formed a group that terrorized the survivors, butchering and murdering them, even women and kids. There was only a handful left by the time the head guys returned to search for survivors and the mutineers were at war with the soldiers. The soldiers were able to get the mutineers arrested and executed. I chose the name because Hugh kind of reminded me of those mutineers, ready to let other people die just to save his own skin. Oswald too. Maybe they're not exactly like those mutineers now that I spell it out, but it felt right.
Vivian decided that Kelly was an odd man. She didn't see much sense in the rechristening, but if he decided it was the best name, she was fine with it.
She walked into the office, "Decatur?"
The AI appeared, "Good to see you, Captain! How may I be of service?"
"How long until we exit slipspace and reach the last-known coordinates of the Best of the Best?"
"In about an hour's time, ma'am!"
"Good. Have all personnel exit the cryo-chambers and head to their stations. Inform Hayes that he should form a squad-sized strike team in case we need to board the ship and investigate; have them gear up immediately and assemble in the hanger. Get a Pelican ready as well. Also send a message for me to the Armorsmith to prepare a vest for me."
Decatur seemed shocked for a moment, gasping, "ma'am, you plan to join the strike team if they must board the ship?"
"I made a promise to the crew that I wouldn't order them to do anything I wasn't willing to do myself."
The AI still possessed a worried look, but agreed, "as you wish, madam."
"I appreciate your concern."
"Oh, I have no doubt you'll do excellently if you must board, even if it is just to reconnoiter the ship!" Decatur laughed then, saying, "I say, your advanced warships don't do well for boarding do they? In my time, it was about taking the prize! Seize the enemy ship's from him, take your rival captain's sword! Ha, those were the days. But now, our ships don't even come near enough for a broadside."
"We don't have cannons on our port and starboard sides, Decatur."
"If you had been a mariner in the Age of Sail, you would have found it very much preferable to these dingy ships of metal. I dare claim that your powerful ships enable you from committing to close action!"
"We're not here for a fight, Decatur," Vivian said, then she smirked, "although I do recall running over a Covenant corvette some time ago."
"And my word, what a sight that was!" Decatur chimed, "That's why you would have done well in my time! Would you like me to find designs for a ram?"
The idea of a starship ram appealed to Vivian for a moment, but she said, "Save it for another time, Decatur. Right now, let's focus on getting the crew out of the cryo-lab and getting to our mystery ship."
"In crystal fashion, captain!"
Vivian made her way to the bridge, sipping her coffee the entire way, her thoughts drawn to Frost once more. She would make a point in the next few days to speak to Langley, privately, to ascertain more of Frost's past. There was a possibility that the information the young radio operator provided wouldn't reveal anything, but Vivian was hopeful.
When she arrived on the bridge, everyone was working. Through the bridge's windows, she could see the shifting, fluid-like golden lights of slipspace. Solak was at the XO's station, tapping away his terminal.
"Solak, report."
"Nothing new, ma'am," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, "all systems nominal. I'm receiving reports from the cryo-bay. The crew's status is green across the board."
Vivian was happy to hear that. Cryonics were sophisticated but not foolproof. Plenty of issues could arise with a tube, and it wasn't a full guarantee that when the tube opened the occupant would wake up. Medical technicians and other staff were always present during the waking up of the crew from their cold slumber, and if somebody didn't open their eyes, they were placed into the medical tube that was present. If all went as planned, the crew would emerge, cold and naked, coughing on the bronchial surfactant stored in their throats to replace lost nutrients.
Vivian settled into her command chair and quickly made her own check of the ship's systems. Streams of data flowed across the screens in front of her. Everything was in order. She drank her coffee.
Opening up her data pad again, Vivian began to file a report. It was nothing important nor special, just an outline of their short slipspace jump. But as she tapped on the keypad her thoughts shifted and darkened. He was clambering out of his cryo-chamber at that very moment, she knew. She wanted to go down there, confront him, do something besides sit in the damned captain's chair where she could do anything. Ghosts patrolled the bridge, pulled at her arms, infested her mind with their anger and pain. For a moment, she stood out of her own body, watching herself leave the bridge without a word, head to the cryo-bay, draw her pistol, and fire a slug into his chest. In another vision she saw herself jamming a knife into his throat in retribution. She watched him writhe on the floor, clawing at his throat as blood bubbled from his mouth and flowed from his neck.
Then she was back. Vivian blinked and looked around. She was still on the bridge, still holding the data pad. She hadn't typed anything except for one sentence: Frost killed my friends.
Exhaling, Vivian set the data pad down and cleared her head. Fantasies would get her nowhere. She had to remain realistic. What would going down to the cryo-lab accomplish? What would she do, make fun of him as he emerged, shivering and naked, from his pod? That wasn't revenge, that was just...petty.
It was at times like this that she despised Jasmine. She hated how Jasmine always seemed to be so level-headed, how she rarely snapped, how she seemed to always see every side to a situation. Sometimes Vivian reduced her steadfastness to a lack of conviction, an inability to pick a side on something. Walking in the middle of the road only got you so far, she thought, or hit by a crazy driver. To get anywhere in life, one had to pick a direction and stick to it.
But Vivian knew when her own anger was speaking and fought it back down. Jasmine was right, as infuriating as it was to admit it. Vivian knew she couldn't just barrel into his cabin, take him by the collar, and shake the truth from him. She certainly couldn't just execute him on the spot. Evidence would be the key to finding out the truth.
And what if it isn't him?
Vivian hoped it was. What a strange hope, she considered, that a man turned out to be a murderer. But she felt close to the truth. To find out it wasn't him would propel her back into the past, the misery of not knowing where or who their killer was. She feared going back to that state more than death. Humanity was steadily being annihilated and there was a good chance that the real killer was already dead. Vivian had never wished anyone was more alive than him. She wanted to look into his eyes and know that he had done it. Yet would his death be enough consolation for her and for the dead? Did it have to be by her hands? Maybe an energy sword had been run through his heart, or his flesh and bones reduced to ash by plasma, or a crystal shard had blown open his belly or sliced his throat open. No, it had to be by her hands. Only then would the ghosts leave her alone.
Brooding had made time pass quickly, and Vivian was startled by the voices of her bridge staff.
"Slipspace jump successful."
"Scanning the system now for Best of the Best."
"Checking comms."
Vivian turned, "Delaney, what can you tell me about this system?"
Delaney opened up a file on his terminal and transferred its contents to one of the larger screens draped in the bridge. "The system doesn't have a name, just a letter-number combination: DD2347. It's only got a handful of planets and a small sun. Terraforming and colonizing units skipped this system due to a lack of resources within the planets. There have been reports of Insurrectionist activity in the system, but those reports are almost a decade old. In general, this system possesses no abnormalities."
Vivian got a bad feeling then. Something was off, she could feel it in her bones.
The missing vessel appeared, small at first, then growing steadily larger and larger. She was of the Halberd-class, a unique looking ship by UNSC standards. Most UNSC warships possessed a narrow, bulky build, but Halberds had large, rectangular-shaped engines that stood vertically, complemented with horizontal cylinders at each corner at the end of a large, squar-shaped stern, with a midsection that became narrower in the center and came to an almost fine point at the tip of the bow, with a cumbrous undercarriage. They were relatively sleek and smooth ships, with a darker metal finish as compared to other ships of the line which were more silver.
Scans of the ship appeared on the data screens. There was no visible damage but it was dead in the water, so to speak. Curiously, almost all of its systems, save for a few essential ones, were offline. There were few lights on the hull, with only the lights illuminating its name on the starboard side burning brightly.
"Koroma, establish comms with her," Vivian order, standing up from her chair and stepped closer to the large window at the front of the bridge.
"Aye, aye, ma'am," Koroma worked her terminal, then said, "UNSC Best of the Best, this is UNSC I'm Alone, do you copy, over?"
There was no answer. Vivian turned as Koroma tried again, her face growing more concerned, "Best of the Best, please respond, over..."
Koroma continued to engage the ship, but there was only silence. Vivian raised a hand to stop her, then turned to the AI pedestal.
"Decatur, is there anything you can do?"
The AI stroked his chin, "I'm not detecting another AI presence on board, and most of their systems are down, yet their cyber warfare suites are fully active and there are extra firewalls and encryptions in place. Cracking them is possible but it will take some time."
"We don't have time," Vivian murmured, "Koroma, keep trying to hail her. I'm taking a team over to investigate. Solak, you have the bridge. Tell the rest of the task force to keep scanning the system."
In the hanger, Vivian was greeted by some of the armor techs. They offered to help her into her minor set of armor, but she declined. Her armor consisted of a ballistic vest the same color of her tunic. Once equipped, it looked like a normal part of the uniform. She slid a bracer onto her right forearm, as well as two black shoulder pauldrons with her rank insignia on them. The techs also offered her a collar guard, but she refused it.
Hayes was present in the hanger. Vivian exchanged a salute with him.
"Have you gathered a team, Colonel?"
"I have," he said, motioning to a squad sitting on some crates.
It was Frost and his team. They were in full gear; olive drab M52B body armor, topped with helmets equipped with flashlights, helmet cameras, and blue HUD pieces.
Vivian was frozen for a moment. Frost was sitting on the deck, his back against a crate. His helmet was off and he was applying face paint; he had made three diagonal jagged stripes across his face; the color of the paint was a shade of gray that matched his cloudy eyes. His beard was a little thicker, his brown hair a bit more grown in.
The hanger grew dark. Every piece of equipment, every aircraft, every crew member disappeared. All Vivian saw were the black outlines of a crummy apartment that smelled of mold, and five shadows spaced around it. And then there was a marine, firing his assault rifle in a wide arc, gunning each of them down in a hail of gunfire.
"Will they do?" Hayes asked.
"Huh?" Vivian blinked. Her eyes had grown wide.
"Frost's squad is one of my best. Will they do?"
Vivian looked from Hayes to Frost. The latter was now chatting with his English compatriot, chuckling over some joke.
What joke was that, she wondered. "Not even a kidney, Frost?"
"Yes," she answered stiffly, "yes, they'll be fine."
"Good. Frost tells me you've met the squad but I'll re-introduce you."
He began walking over, but Vivian remained cemented to the deck. Everything in her body compelled her to walk away and to walk over at the same time. Somehow, her legs carried her forward until she stood at the edge of the little group.
"Frost you know."
Yes, he killed my friends.
"This is Steele, his right hand man."
"Not even a kidney, Frost?"
He continued listing off names, but Vivian remembered them all from the awards ceremony. She just didn't dare to speak. Bishop and Maddox were the pair of Scotsmen, the former muscular, the latter scrawny. Grant was the smiling American, Moser was the gauntly German lad, and Langley she knew well-enough.
Frost stood up and saluted. Vivian's arm robotically raised itself and returned the gesture.
Hayes towered over them all and declared, "We've got a mystery ship out there and we need to figure out what the hell happened to its. I'd like to remind you that Captain Waters' word is law. Do any of you dispute that?"
"No, Colonel," they all said unison.
"Good. Behave yourselves."
With that, the big officer walked off. Vivian was left gazing stoically at the squad of marines plus one airman in front of her.
Frost offered her a smile then looked at his men, "Alright guys, let's get this show on the roll."
With much noise, groaning, joking, and laughter, the squad rose to their feet.
"Couldn't even let me have a DMR..."
"The hell you gonna do with a DMR inside a starship?"
"I hate shotguns."
"Trying to say something, wise-ass?"
"Maybe."
"What, that you're compensating for an abnormally small prick?"
The squad guffawed as they walked towards the Pelican, weapons slung over their shoulders or held in the air, rucksacks and kit-bags dangling from their hands or thrown over a shoulder, walking close together. They kept jesting and slinging insults at one another and clapping one another on the back or bumping shoulders together. Even the young Langley seemed to be a part of the comradery. For a moment, Vivian had forgotten about Frost as she watched them walk away, envying their friendship and their camaraderie. It was an image that would forever remain in her memory.
She heard a click beside her and jumped. Jasmine was standing there with a camera, watching the squad as well.
"Nervous?" she asked, amused.
"No," Vivian lied.
They began walking towards the Pelican side by side. "What're you doing here?" Vivian asked.
"I wanted to see you off."
"What's with the camera?"
Jasmine looked down at the small camera, "My parents gave it me before I left Reach. I don't know why, they only said I should have one. So, I figured I ought to start taking some pictures."
"Why?"
Jasmine shrugged, "Part of me hopes that I can look at them one day and remember something good out of a time that was just so awful."
The squad had just finished loading into the Pelican, save for Frost who was tossing in his backpack. He turned to face Vivian, holding his assault rifle, his index finger resting on the midsection of the rifle just above the trigger. Vivian eyed it warily, and slowly made eye contact.
"Do you think it's Covenant, ma'am?" he asked.
Vivian had a quick flash in her mind; she saw her hand reach for her sidearm and begin firing it into Frost's chest. Instead, she managed to say, "If it had been Covenant, the captain of the ship would have initiated the self-destruct protocol. Most likely the ship suffered some kind of internal technical damage when exiting from slipspace. Still, we should be prepared for anything."
Frost nodded, "Yes, ma'am."
Click.
Both Vivian and Frost turned to see that Jasmine had snapped a photo of them. Vivian glared at her, but Jasmine only smiled.
Frost had smiled as well, "Good to see you, doctor."
"And you as well. Try not to get hurt, the last thing I want to do today is patch up another one of your wounds."
The marine clambered up into the Pelican but turned with a grin, "I'll do my best, but no promises." Frost put his helmet on and tipped it towards a chuckling Jasmine.
Vivian got closer to Jasmine, whispering "Are you two pals or something?"
Her friend frowned, "I know the man. Just because of your disposition towards him doesn't mean I have to have the same one as well."
"I know you won't take my side but for my sake can you not be buddy-buddies with him?"
Jasmine sighed, "I know him, Viv. I can't just give him a cold shoulder."
"Then at least don't do it in front of me," Vivian hissed.
"Fine, fine."
Vivian turned to climb and found a hand in front of her. Frost smiled at her, extending his reach a little further. All Vivian did was stare at it. Most of his hand was covered by his fingerless gray glove. On the exposed parts of his fingers she could see fading cuts and blisters.
"Ma'am?"
The sergeant looked a little confused.
Doing her best to hide her reluctance, Vivian took his hand and he hoisted her up. His strength was surprising, as he practically puller her off her feet. Standing in the rear cabin of the Pelican, Frost gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Vivian nodded rigidly and turned to look at Jasmine in disgust, who only gave her a lecturing look. But it softened and she said with a smile, "Make sure you come back in one piece too, Viv."
All it took was one sentence to make Vivian smile again, "Yes, mom."
She passed by the crew chief, Isha, who was standing by the rear door. Going up to the cockpit, she found the pilot, Jasper, and the copilot, Pajari, in their seats and going through the last phase of the takeoff procedure.
"Closing rear door," Pajari said.
"I don't care," Jasper responded, sounding bored. He had his elbow propped up on the control panel and was resting his chin on his hand.
"Pedals are good."
"Don't care."
"We are airtight."
"I'm not even listening now."
"We're green across the board."
"Can I fly this thing yet?"
"If you stop being an asshole."
"You'll never get a date with an attitude like that, Miss Pajari."
"You're a pig."
Vivian poked her head in, "Everything alright here?"
The pilots donned their flight helmets, "Yes, ma'am," Pajari growled, "Jasper is just being a jackass like always."
"Believe it or not, some people think I'm quite charming," Jasper said with a big shit-eating smile.
"Well, when it suits you," Vivian said with a slight firmness in her voice, "take us over to the Best of the Best."
The Pelican lifted off and exited the hanger, entering the blackness of space. Vivian stayed in the little doorway that connected the cockpit with the rest of the Pelican, watching the destroyer loom larger in their view.
After a few moments, Vivian returned into the back and sat down across from Frost. They were illuminated in red light, reminding her of blood and recent corpses torn open by bullets, laying in dark red pools. She could see those pools again, see her feet stepping through them, the blood leaking through her sneakers.
"Captain?"
Vivian looked up.
"You don't plan on coming with us every time we go out, do you?" Frost asked, jokingly.
She stared at him for a long moment. His smile didn't cease. He looked sinister in the light, a shadow cast over his eyes, like so many years ago.
"I'll...leave the groundwork to you. But this is different." She remembered what she had said to Decatur earlier, "And I made a promise to you all, that I wouldn't ask anything of you that I wasn't willing to do myself."
"Frost said something similar to me not too long ago," Moser said.
The NCO waved him off. Vivian did her best to hide her rage. She didn't want to be on the same level as a murderer.
She didn't trust herself to speak to them, so she put a finger to her earpiece, "Koroma, have you gotten anything yet?"
"No ma'am, there's nothing, not even static. Just silence."
"Alright, save your breath. Decatur?"
"Madam?"
"Keep us informed of any changes, and make sure you keep scanning the system. If any ship, human or Covenant, enters the system I want to know about it."
"Of course, Captain!"
Vivian lowered her finger and sighed. She pulled her pistol from the holster on her hip and checked it over; it was fully loaded with a round in the chamber. She had a feeling that the situation wouldn't be hospitable on the Best of the Best. Something was definitely there, and was most likely hostile. She flicked the safety off.
A hand flew over and she reared back. Frost had leaned forward, chuckling nervously, "Cap, best not have a hot weapon inside the Pelican unless you're dropping into a hot zone. One slip of the trigger and a bullet could go ricocheting all over the place."
Holding back a look of disgust at the fact the murderer would dare speak to her, she nodded and turned the safety back on.
Frost leaned back against his seat, "Three years ago we were helping evacuate civilians from a city in the Outer Colonies. We were working with local police during the operation. When we finally reached the Pelican and took off, one of those cops accidentally pulled the trigger on his sidearm, and the bullet bounced around until it buried itself in one of the civilian's legs."
Vivian braced herself for a sick joke from him or one of the other marines, but they remained silent. She looked at all of them, their faces hidden by shadows and their bodies bathed in that dull red light. Her eyes kept darting back to Frost, watching him casually check over his equipment, his face blank and his thoughts elsewhere. Did he ever think about what he had done? Did he even remember? Vivian hid a glare.
I don't want him to forget. I hope it keeps him up at night.
A feeling of dread and hate crept over her. Breathing deeply, she shut her eyes and maintained her temper. How she wished to have Jasmine's self-control.
The short trip was nearly silent. Other than a few hushed whispers between the squad, no one raised their voice. Vivian stealthily scanned the marines. She felt as though she were intruding, as if the rear of the Pelican was a sacred place for them. She knew she didn't quite belong there. Starship captains were supposed to be commanding the bridge, not riding in with the marines. But she had promised, and Vivian was not the sort to break a promise.
As the Pelican approached, they heard Jasper speak over the comms.
"UNSC Best of the Best, this is Yankee Triple-Seven, requesting permission to land," he said, sounding more serious than he had earlier.
Silence was the only response. Vivian stood back up, went to the cockpit, and looked through the windscreen again. They were close enough now that she couldn't see the destroyer from end to end, and its titanium body appeared like a solid silver wall in their view.
Jasper, concentrated on his controls, asked, "Should I try them again, Cap?"
"If Koroma didn't get anything out of them, I doubt you will either. Take us in."
The hanger was open and Jasper slid the Pelican in and delicately placed it down.
"Was that gentle enough for you?" he asked Pajari, sarcastically.
"Eat me."
"Cut the chatter," Vivian ordered. She leaned forward in the cockpit and looked back and forth across the hanger. Pelicans, Longswords, and Shortswords sat solemnly, unattended. Not a soul crossed the deck. There was no clanking of machinery, revving of forklift engines, or humming of starfighter engines.
Vivian's brow furrowed, "This isn't good."
She turned around. The squad of marines looked at her expectantly.
"Ready for your orders, ma'am," Frost said finally.
Vivian nodded. As much as it pained her, she knew her investigation, her chance at revenge had to be put aside. An entire ship was in danger, what kind of danger, she did not know. Sadly, she shunted her friends the back of her mind.
"Something tells me that the crew isn't entirely in control of the vessel. Sergeant Frost, leave two of your shooters here to provide security for the Pelican. I don't want our one means of escape to be compromised."
The marine NCO nodded in agreement, "Moser, Grant, stay here and guard the Pelican. Keep an eye open."
"You got it," Grant said.
"The rest of you," said Vivian, "you're with me. We're heading to the bridge."
"Rules of engagement, ma'am?" asked Frost.
"Non-lethal force unless absolutely necessary.
The marines all stood up at the same time. The rear door opened, the ramp dropped, and they all filed out. As they made their way across the hanger to the exit, their booted footsteps echoed against the walls. Vivian drew her sidearm, holding it in her right hand. Her complement of six marines had formed a line on either side of her; Frost, Steele, and Knight were on her right, Bishop, Maddox, and Langley on her left.
When they entered the hallways, the marines began to move quietly, much to Vivian's surprise. Entering the corridor, their posture changed. In the hanger they had been walking upright. Now they were hunched over, weapons raised and aimed forward. Their heads were down, and their steps became nearly silent. Even with their abundance of bandoliers and pouches and their battle armor and helmets, they made no noise. Stealth wasn't exactly what you'd expect from line marines, with their bulky armor, their grizzled beards, their non-regulation length hair, their foul body odor, their strings of curses, their itchy trigger fingers, their nonchalant attitude towards killing...
Vivian took her eyes off Frost, doing her best not to let her mind take her down darker paths again. The NCO slid up to the corner of the corridor and peeked his head around.
"Clear," he whispered.
The others filed forward, weapons raised, their pace a bit quicker.
Vivian began to follow but Frost put his arm up in front of her, "Captain, whoever's on the ship may know we're here, so we might have someone ghosting us soon."
He raised his fingers in a V symbol and pointed at his eyes, "let's keep our heads on a swivel."
"Agreed, Sergeant," she grunted, and they continued.
The halls were crisp, clean, and sterile like all UNSC ships. Vivian studied as they walked. No bullet holes or plasma burns. No damage from explosives. Where the hell was everyone?
At the end of the hallway was an elevator.
"There, that'll take us to the bridge."
"Are you sure, ma'am?" asked Frost.
"At Luna Academy, we were taught to memorizes the layouts of all UNSC ship types, from prowlers to carriers. I'm positive."
Frost seemed to smile a little at Vivian's response.
Everyone approached the elevator. Knight and Bishop turned on their heels, keeping their weapons up, scanning their rear. Vivian pressed the button to call the elevator. Not a sound was heard save for the beeping of the elevator passing other decks on the ship and the quiet breathing of the marines around her. She looked around them, and spied one of the security cameras above them, tucked into the corner.
She stepped over and peered at it.
"The camera system is down," She said after inspecting it for a moment.
"Ma'am?"
"Cameras on UNSC ships have a small light to show that they're powered and running. This one isn't. I think it's safe to assume that they're offline."
"Why would they turn that off?" Corporal Steele asked.
Reserving energy was an option, but then again the camera array throughout a UNSC warship didn't require much power. Turning them off or on didn't make much a difference in energy consumption. Maybe there was someone on board who didn't want someone else to see them. But in doing so they wouldn't be able to see anyone else either, whether or not it was from the bridge or security.
Vivian shook her head, "We'll find out when we get to the bridge."
Just then the elevator reached their deck, and the doors slid open. Vivian reeled back with the others as the smell of rotting flesh filled her nostrils and her eyes saw a decomposing body tied by its ankles hanging from the ceiling of the elevator. There was a large gash wound in the center of the naked body, a large bullet hole in the side of his head, and his genitals had been removed. The walls of the elevator had dark, aged bloodstains on them, and there was old blood on the floor.
"Jesus fuck!"
"What the fuck is this?"
"Fuckin' hell!"
Steele reared back and began to gag. "Fuckin' hell!" he kept repeating as he tried to stop himself from throwing up.
Frost put a hand on his back, "Just puke and get it over with." He was reviled enough to vomit but he managed to keep himself together. Immediately his eyes went to Langley, who stood stupefied by the elevator door, her skin having become paler and her eyes wide with fright.
He reached over and shook her, "Hey, you good?"
She seemed to snap back to reality then, and nodded quickly. Frost turned to the Captain, who stared ahead with a grim expression. His heart went out to her then, quietly. He wasn't one to assume navy officers didn't see gruesome things in their time, and he did not mean to doubt her ability to withstand vile thing. Perhaps it was a random burst of attempted chivalry. But he placed himself in front of her, shaking his head, "Don't look, Captain."
Captain Waters blinked and locked her eyes with his.
"I've seen mangled bodies before, Sergeant," she said flatly.
Frost, saddened to hear so, nodded. "So have I," he murmured softly, looking over his shoulder. He felt somewhat silly for trying to block the sight from her. She was an officer of the UNSC Navy. They had stomachs for horrible things too, though he was curious where she had developed her own.
A stomach was something entirely different to a soldier such as Frost. If you were talking about the organ, you said the 'gut.' Stomach was one's ability to hold it together when looking at the vileness of war. Even after three years of hardcore training of all kinds, Frost hadn't grown his stomach until his first ground engagement. Hours after his first kills, he had thrown up all night. Afterwards, there were more horrors to see and commit, and he had vomited for two more nights. Afterwards, he never wretched again. Having a stomach was a sorrow. No one should ever get used to vicious slaughter such as the one that was before him.
Frost went forward with Captain Waters to inspect the bodies.
"Is your helmet cam recording?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am."
"Decatur, are you receiving?"
The AI cleared his holographic throat over the comms.
"Frightfully so, madam."
"Is he UNSC?" Waters asked Frost, her voice hollow.
His eyes caught sight of the dog tags around the hanged man's neck, dangling and clinking as the body swayed. He reached out and yanked them off.
"Yeah, UNSC."
"Cut him down from there, he deserves better than that," Waters ordered.
Drawing his knife, Frost reached up and cut the wire around his ankles. He and Waters caught the body, their armor and uniforms smeared with old blood by it. Withholding sounds of disgust, they gently set the body down in the hallway. Frost stared at it for a time, remembering similar corpses years before, laid out on cold green grass and snow, on hillsides and in forests, fresh, his gloved hands soaked in blood.
"Who would do something like this?" Waters asked, "there's no sign of Covenant or a boarding of some kind."
"It's definitely human work. The Covenant are ruthless, but I've never seen them do that to bodies before."
"You think humans did this?"
Captain Waters sounded indignant, her emerald eyes glistened with flames for a brief moment. Frost grimaced and said, "Humans are capable of terrible things too, Captain."
She stared at him, hard, for a few moments, then turned her attention back to the elevator. Her expression seemed to soften. "What do you think we'll find on the bridge, Nathaniel?"
He considered for a moment, then answered, "More bodies and hostile gun barrels. I think there's a high chance that as soon as the doors open we'll be riddled with bullets."
The captain seemed to consider that for a moment. She looked at his men, as did Frost. Bishop and Knight had taken off their armor and combat jackets, placing the jackets on the corpse to cover it
Frost leaned close to the captain and whispered, "Vivian, I don't want to risk my guys but we have to see what's up there.
Vivian stared at him for a while, then said, "Agreed. You and I will go first."
He was relieved to hear that. Standing to his feet, he clapped his hands together. Everyone looked his way.
"Alright, we need to go investigate the bridge. Finding a body like this means there might be human hostiles on the ship."
"Oh not this shit again," Maddox growled.
"I thought we were done fighting humans," Bishop added.
"We won't know who it is if we don't get up there. But it may be some kind of a trap, so Captain Waters and I will head up there first."
He glanced at Vivian, who took over, "We're going to keep the SQUADCOM channel open, so if we get into a fight you'll be aware. If the worst happens, head back to the Pelican, return to the I'm Alone, and inform XO Solak to destroy the vessel."
Frost braced himself. He could see by the slack-jawed expressions on his friends' faces that they were not happy about the plan.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Knight asked.
"You could get blown away," said Bishop.
"Exactly," Frost stated. He didn't have to explain to them that an elevator was a tactically disadvantageous environment. An extremely tight space combined with only one route of egress, two if one counted the ceiling hatch, plus the fact they had no idea what was outside the elevator, provided a losing situation for a full squad. "You'll be able to react better down here than getting cut to ribbons up there," Frost added, jerking his thumb upwards.
Steele took a step forward, his brow furrowed in frustration, "We're already split up, splitting up again is a bad idea. We always do things together."
Frost loved him for that. His tendency to raises objections to officers and orders often pissed him off, but he knew when Steele questioned him, it was because he was worried. Out of the entire squad, Steele was closest to him, so no one could cross him without getting an earful from the Englishman. And if he thought that Frost would do something foolish, he would tell him so. The others would too, but would back down eventually. Not Steele; despite his casual nature he never let some things go.
"I know, but right now it's safer this way," Frost finally said after a sigh, "just stay put, okay? That's an order."
"Let me come with you at least," Steele insisted coming a step closer.
Frost sighed again, then the corner of his lip curled into a smile.
"Okay, Lou. The rest of you hang tight and wait for my word."
Despite their grumblings and their hidden uneasiness, the rest of the squad took up defensive positions as best they could. Frost, along with Steele and Vivian, entered the elevator.
As the lift ascended, Frost exchanged a look with Steele. Steele was watching the small screen on the control panel showing the number of which deck they were passing. He looked back and nodded, smirking.
Frost smiled back. Friends like Steele were hard to come by in such a war. He knew plenty of soldiers from other outfits who were punted around from unit to unit for one reason or another. Many were sole survivors from platoons, companies-hell, sometimes even entire regiments. But there were others who requested transfers. It was a common practice for recruitment officers to promote the idea of belonging and comradeship. And it was true, a new recruit would eventually find those two entities. Frost could attest to that. After eight years of total transparency with the men of his squad, he had found a type of brotherhood he just knew he would never have had as a civilian. But there were plenty of soldiers who didn't want that. They requested transfers regularly, not wanting to get attached to others. As Frost knew, it was ungodly painful to watch a friend die. He'd never transfer out of the 89th; no one from the unit would ever dare, but he could understand why so many did it.
"You're a loyal man, Corporal Steele," Vivian said suddenly, gazing at the Englishman curiously.
Steele shrugged nonchalantly, "I owe him."
"For what?"
Frost shuddered and hoped neither one of them noticed. He knew what, though he didn't feel like digging up that terrible memory.
"Ah, the bugger just saved my ass from time to time back when we were fighting the rebs."
"So, you've fought rebels?"
"Yeah, for a whole year."
"Where?"
Frost then felt suddenly uncomfortable. Vivian's tone had gone from simple questioning to very serious probing. She had taken a slight step towards Steele, her free hand had balled up into a tight fist, and her entire frame had tensed up.
Over the years, Frost had decided that he had become somewhat proficient in reading people. He could take the slight movements and the choice of words people used and sort of formulate what they were thinking or feeling in that moment. As a soldier, he also had developed a sixth sense. After so many combat ops, he could feel when he was being watched or followed and he could feel when an environment was suspicious. All veterans developed that combat sense. Put that together with reading people, his instincts told him at that moment to be wary of Vivian.
"In the Inner Colonies, on-"
"Shut up, Steele," Frost cut in suddenly.
"What?"
"Get your head in the game and be ready to move when that door opens."
Vivian's back was to him, so Frost raised his eyebrows and nodded at her. Steele, perplexed, must have gotten the message because he nodded and kept quiet. Vivian slowly looked back at Frost, her eyes suspicious and angry. Frost stared back, his gray eyes hardening. He managed a smile a moment later and said, "You don't want to hear those stories. They're pretty boring in reality."
Vivian's brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she abruptly looked away. She had been acting strange for some time. Something was off. Something had to be. What it was, he had no clue, but he had to lock the thought away as the elevator reached the bridge.
Ding.
The elevator door opened. Standing just outside were three men in piecemeal marine armor worn over red and yellow navy uniforms. They were standing there, chatting and smoking, but froze when they saw who was in the elevator.
"Oh shit!" one yelled, going for his sidearm.
Non-lethal force; the words echoed in Frost's head. He was comfortable with that.
Immediately, he bolted forward out of the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Steele do the same. Frost charged for the one on the left and slammed the buttstock of his assault rifle across his jaw. Turning as he fell, the man choked in pain. Before the one in the middle could react, Frost brought the side of the rifle against his head. His opponent spun around from the impact, but remained on his feet. As he turned to retaliate, Frost landed a succession of solid punches to his gut, then ended his assault with a haymaker, which sent his opponent to the deck. At the same time, Steele had flipped his shotgun around and held it by the barrel like it was a baseball pat. He spun around and smashed the stock against the final man's head. That was all it took to send him to the ground, moaning as he clutched his busted jaw.
One was completely unconscious, Steele's victim could only groan into his hands, and the third was trying to stand up, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. Frost went to the third and lowered his knee onto the back of his head, pushed him back down. The man hissed from the intense pain on his head.
"What the hell are you doing?" Vivian had come over and grabbed Frost by the collar of his armor. "These men didn't attack us!"
"He was going for his pistol," Frost growled, "what the hell did you want us to do, Captain?"
Vivian let go of him. Frost pulled out his own sidearm and pressed against the side of the sailor's skull.
"Start talking or I'll put a slug in your head."
"Fuck you," the sailor said, struggling to say the words.
Frost exchanged a glance with Steele, and then stood up. Steele kicked the man in the side, hard. The sailor, reacting from the blow, rolled onto his back. Steele then planted his foot on the man's chest and pointed the shotgun at him, holding it in one hand. Frost drew his knife then, leaned down, and held the shining blade against the sailor's crotch.
"Whoa hold on, wait, wait!"
"Why should I? You're the one who doesn't want to talk."
"Just hold on a second-"
"If I slice your balls off you'll have about five minutes until you bleed to death," Frost said menacingly, "maybe we'll hang you in the elevator like you did to that poor bastard we found, huh?"
"No, that's wasn't me!"
"Who then!?" Frost pressed the blade closer, harder. The man whimpered. Frost kept going, pressing the tip of the blade harder, "Did I say five minutes? Is it more than that? Or less, I'm not sure!"
"Jesus Christ!" Vivian grabbed him again, this time by the shoulder. "Stop, that's an order!"
Frost withdrew the blade and Steele stepped back. The pair watched as Vivian knelt down, keeping a tight grip on her sidearm.
"What happened on this ship? What happened to that man in the elevator?"
The sailor, sweating profusely and panting, looked between her and Frost. With an almost reluctant sounding sigh, Vivian said, "Do you want to talk to him, or to me?"
"You're fucking psychos," the sailor said to Frost and Steele, then turned to look at Vivian, "There was a mutiny led by the XO, Chamberlain. After we started heading back, he came onto the bridge one day in slipspace with his pistol and started screaming at Captain Cain. Said he was sick and tired of being dragged over the galaxy and said he wanted us to go off somewhere. He talked about some planets where Innies live and wanted to go there, but Cain wouldn't do that, so Chamberlain shot him. Chamberlain then got a bunch of guys together and started killing everybody who was against him. He tried to change our destination but the bridge staff jumped us out of slipspace early and set off the distress beacon. Then they got some of the marines and ODSTs together, took the engine room, and shut off power to the engines and other systems, practically everything besides oxygen."
"Then what?"
"Chamberlain tried to get everybody to join him, but almost everyone who didn't join us or the guys in the engine room wanted no part of it so they just locked themselves in their rooms. Chamberlain has us go to the barracks to rough up some of the crew every so often, sometimes kill some, to make sure nobody joins the engine room people."
Frost scratched his beard. Needless to say, the situation was a bigger mess than anything he could have imagined. Mutiny. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Covenant would have just blasted the vessel away. Rebels would have tried to steal it and probably would have tried to ransom the crew. Mutineers, though? They'd do anything to protect their position. No one was more desperate than a traitor. Frost squeezed the hilt of his knife tighter.
Vivian seemed to stare off for a moment, remembering something. She made a sound, like a disheartened laugh, and said one word, "Batavia..."
"Ma'am?" Frost asked.
"Nothing," she answered, turning her attention back on the mutineers, "you're under arrest for treason. Frost, Steele, secure these men."
Frost did as he was bid. Modern handcuffs were still made of metal, but marines still carried ones of plastic. They were standard issue pieces of marine kit, though quite useless when fighting the Covenant. Marines weren't in the prisoner taking business, and the Covenant never surrendered, so it was rare to see an alien prisoner. Plastic cuffs wouldn't have held an Elite or Brute anyways. Even so, the plastic cuffs in one of Frost's belt pouches came to use. He made sure to secure them as uncomfortably as possible, just short of cutting off blood flow to the hands. Steele used his own to bind their feet. They then laid them out near the elevator and called up the rest of the squad.
While they were waiting, Frost watched Captain Waters extract more information from the conscious prisoner. He didn't appreciate her interference in his own interrogation, although he had to admit her lack of threats but menacing tone seemed to be more useful. Still, he took credit for getting the prisoner ready to talk; watching from the wall, he balanced the bottom of the knife's hilt on his index finger. He wouldn't have done it, though the prisoner didn't need to know that. Frost wasn't particularly ashamed, but his blood was boiling from seeing that poor bastard hanging in the elevator. Vivian was definitely right; whoever it was, they deserved better than that. Too many times, not too long ago, Frost had seen similar bodies, pale and frozen, dismembered and disgraced. The trees had shaken and groaned in the cold winds from the crimes, beckoning, no, demanding, that justice be meted out. Frost had made sure that it had been. Now, it had to be done again.
When the rest arrived, Frost ordered Langley to remain to guard their means of exit from the bridge as well as keep an eye on the prisoners.
"Alright, let's get to the bridge. Form up around the Captain," Frost commanded. They proceeded down the long hall, checking other operations rooms on either side that were all empty. Room after room, empty. There were mugs of coffee and bags of snacks still sitting on desks and counter spaces, as if the crew members who had been occupying the ops centers had just gotten out of their seats a moment earlier.
At the end of the hall, they came to the door to the bridge. It was closed. Frost kept his eyes on the Captain's back as she stood in front of it. Then she turned, nodding at him. Frost nodded back, then turned to his squad.
"Safeties off."
"Bruv, they've been off."
Frost snorted and checked his assault rifle before raising the sights. His eye however was on Vivian's hand, hovering in front of the control panel. It was shaking, but only slightly.
"One...two...three."
Her finger tapped the panel and the doors slid open. Frost charged in, weapon raised.
"Freeze!" he barked at the men and women toting handguns and submachine guns. Some were standing, some were seated, others lying on makeshift beds. The others ran in behind him, shouting as well, weapons raised.
Only a few of the mutineers dropped their weapons. The rest raised their weapons and began shouting.
"Drop your weapons!"
"Hands up!"
"Stand down!"
"Get down on the ground or we'll fucking blow you away!"
"Down! Put them down!"
"Weapons down!"
"Drop them, motherfuckers!"
"Get the fuck off this bridge!"
Then one voice overpowered the rest, "Everybody shut up or else I'll put a bullet in this man!"
Frost's vision had been a whirlwind. He had been waving his weapon back and forth between different targets. Vivian and the others were lined up to his right, weapons raised. It was only then that he realized that there was a man in ODST fatigues, his face bruised, swollen, and bleeding, on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back. A man in gray officer attire had a M6G magnum sidearm pressed against the back of his head.
"If you don't get the fuck off this ship, I will execute this man," the officer growled.
"Commander Chamberlain, I presume?" Vivian said, almost slyly, like she was a secret agent in a movie greeting the main villain.
"I am," Chamberlain grinned. It was an evil grin. Frost instinctively trained his sights on him.
"You shoot that man, you and your crew die," Frost threatened.
"We've got just as many guns in here as you do," Chamberlain said, nodding to the half dozen men and women around him with their own weapons raised. The other half had their hands in the air.
Chamberlain seemed to scoff, "Why don't you keep your mouth shut, jarhead? I'd say the grownups are talking but all of you look like you're twelve."
He turned his gaze on Vivian seemed to size her up, "How about you Captain Sorority Girl? Just graduate from OCS, am I right?"
Vivian said nothing. Her face was as hard as granite.
Chamberlain snorted, "Listen up, I don't want any trouble from the UNSC. All I want is to get this ship running and get to somewhere where there isn't Covenant."
"Open your eyes genius," Steele said, "this is the Inner Colonies. They aren't any Covvies here. I'd like to hear a better excuse than that."
Chamberlain's eyes lit up and pressed the barrel hard into the ODST's head.
"What makes you think the Covenant won't be here any day, limey?
There was a long silence. Eyes shifted around, fingers danced on the triggers, waiting. Frost kept his eyes on Chamberlain, a man with a receding hairline, scars on his cheek, and a sinister pair of black eyes. Some of his fellow mutineers looked just as bad, others seemed scared.
Vivian took a step forward. Frost watched her, and for a split second thought this would be the moment that all hell would break loose.
"You've committed mutiny and are now traitors of the UNSC. You are all under arrest. If you lay down your weapons and come quietly, I promise that you will be offered a fair trial and will be treated with respect. Which is more than you deserve."
"Fuck you!" Chamberlain snapped, point his pistol at her. "I'd rather take my chances out here than spend the rest of my life in a goddamn UNSC prison. I'm going to give you until the count of five to get the hell of my bridge and head back to your ship, before my crew fills you will lead."
No one moved. Frost braced his finger on the trigger.
"One."
He could feel everyone tensing up. Feet shuffled, shoulders were hunched. Everyone was preparing to find cover as soon as the firing began.
"Two."
Frost knew where he was going and what he was going to do. He would unleash a short burst of fire and roll backwards towards the door, then go through and take cover on the other side, where he'd return fire.
"Three."
He looked at Vivian. He hated her for a moment. She had led him and his squad here, and now she was going to get some of them killed. Maybe all of them.
"Four."
Goddamn you Vivian...
"I wouldn't do that if I were you!"
Frost turned along with everyone else. Standing in the doorway was Langley, holding the handset from her radio up like a trophy. Her eyes stared ahead with a grim determination.
"And why's that?" Chamberlain asked slowly.
"I've radioed our task force. We have four ships locked onto this one, and their MAC guns are going to be finished charging in under a minute. You try and fire on my squad, your ship gets disintegrated, along with you and everyone else on board."
Silence settled again. Frost blinked, amazed.
"Hot damn," he heard someone murmur under their breath, most likely Steele.
Frost recovered and said, "What's more important to you? Your freedom, or your life?"
Chamberlain growled, his eyes growing wide with fury.
Vivian spoke next, "Well, Commander Chamberlain, seeing as how your hands are tied, why don't you and I sit down have a nice, long, civilized chat about your situation."
The grizzled commander let go of the ODST prisoner, and holstered his sidearm. Vivian did the same.
"Fine," he grunted.
"Good."
Everyone lowered their weapons. Frost breathed a sigh of relief, but only for a moment.
"Uh, Frost?"
It was Grant, speaking over the SQUADCOM.
"Go ahead G, what is it?"
"I'm inside the Pelican with Moser and the crew. We've locked it up."
Frost quirked an eyebrow, "And why's that?"
"There's about a dozen pissed off looking dudes standing right outside."
"Ah...fuck..."
"Gotta tell ya, I've never seen someone as ballsy as
Langley standing in that doorway holding that
radio like a shield."
-Corporal Louis-Henry Steele,
Remembering the boarding and munity
Of the UNSC Best of the Best
Well, no apology can make up for the long wait for this crummy-ass chapter. It was actually supposed to be much longer, but I've made the choice to split up for several reasons. Firstly, to get something up for you all to read since it's been a while. Secondly, if I didn't split this chapter up, it would have probably came out close to forty pages on Google Docs. So, I'm going to starting working on the second one right after I post this, keep an eye peeled for that.
Yeah, I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to get a chapter up. I may have said it before, but I have five classes this semester and so I've had way more work than ever before. Five classes worth of papers and projects and studying and blah blah blah. I'll try to post more frequently now that I don't have many assignments at this point in time, though that's likely to change.
Anyways, as for for responses:
Alpha HighBreed: I actually haven't gotten a beta. I do my writing in Google Docs, but then I download the doc into Microsoft Word because it has a better grammar and spellcheck than Docs. I prefer Docs to write in because I type in single space formatting and Microsoft Word doesn't keep the formatting as tight as I would like it. On another note, I'm glad you're able to feel the emotions I'm striving to get across to you and the other readers. It's one of my goals with this story. And yes, Jasmine is a bit of a sweetheart, huh? She's really cementing herself as the tether for characters to come back to reality.