Chapter 10: The Kingdom of Blaine
May 12th, 257 (Solar Year), 2451 hours (Local Time)
Talahan V, Eta Cassiopeia System
Dorsum Province, Highlandershire

The MX-22 hopped over the jungle humus. The wheels seemed more like treads, able to negotiate the earth better than any vehicle. Chris had to admit that there was a certain degree of skill required to negotiate the wilds of Highlandershire. It was a challenge, and that was what he appreciated. They ran over a root which launched the rear of the vehicle into the air. Jackson, being the lightest, was bumped into the air. She yipped as she landed on her rear. Allen and Chris chuckled, but she was red in the face.

"Should have buckled up, Jackson!"

"Shut up!"

The vehicle moved like a brand new sports car. It dipped, it dove, and it oddly enough had the best fuel economy the Captain had ever seen.

Go figure.

"How far to the Kendleton base?"

NICOLE's hologram was replaced with a map of the area. "The Kendleton base is approximately thirteen minutes and three seconds away, Captain; provided you continue down this path."

"What path?"

"Hmm…good question, Captain. Oh, watch out for the mangroves!"

"Mangroves -?"

He almost yanked the wheel off avoiding it. The massive roots were half the size of the MX-22. The 'mangroves' were massive trees that stretched for nearly three hundred meters into the air. These were some of Talahan's claims to fame. They were named 'mangroves' because of their similarities to Earth trees in the Amazon, apart from the twisting limbs and the broom-shaped leaves.

Chris never saw this in Fratelli. At the most he saw pine trees and palm trees, and a helluva lot of shrubs.

Eventually he tore himself away from his thoughts on botany and focused on the road instead. They came to another clearing where the UNSC cut down a ring of trees and set up a base here. Naturally, it was deserted, but why? Traditionally In war, when one side won, they often left a compliment of troops behind as an occupation force. Here, they just cut their losses and left. It wasn't as if Talahan wouldn't have been useful or anything; there were huge deposits of mineral carbon; trillions of dollars' worth of it.

"You ever get the feeling that something odd's going on here?" Hera asked, a bit redundantly.

This kicked Chris' sarcasm mode into overdrive. "Over the past few days where I've been incarcerated, chased, and fired upon? No, not at all."

This caused Hera's cheeks to puff in annoyance. "Ooh, Dad would have liked you. He was as sarcastic as you."

"Well I am happy to say that your father and I really had a fantastic sense of humour."

"Ladies…!" Allen said. "Quit getting your training bras in a knot and focus on raiding the base."

Then a thought struck Chris that was quite delayed, given the fact that he was intoxicated by a Ropetongue for the past four hours. "What are supposed to be finding here anyway?"

"Evidence that might be able to save your ass." Jackson said.

"On a backwater swampball that's being overtaken by plants?"

"Eyes on the road, Captain."

Chris' eyes narrowed. Hera was right. Something odd was going on here.

Kendleton was a UNSC Navy outpost. It was roughly the size of a basic camp, but with a few additions such as landing platforms where shuttles and freighters could touch down. Chris wondered why they didn't touch down here but a look at the surrounding area was the answer. Three miles in every direction around the Kendleton base was clear cut. Not a single tree was standing and nature had yet to recover this particular patch of planet. Their descent would have been much more noticeable if they had decided to put down here.

Vennettilli had no idea why they were going here. He assumed that the Mercenaries that were with him knew something he did not. There had to be something, something that they wanted, otherwise they wouldn't have been so keen to visit this place. Talahan had started to gain nasty reputations with the other races as well.

Chris decided to leave the questioning until it mattered. The objective was to get to the base and discover more of what had happened since the war ended. Plus, it was one step closer to finding Chuck's resting place.

Kendleton's AA towers were still standing, though there was nobody else to man them. They hung like sentinels in the sky as the MX-22 coasted underneath them. They all held their breaths as if they were passing a graveyard; afraid that the guns would suddenly turn on them and blast them off the road. Obviously, nothing happened and they rolled further into the dead base.

The buildings were in better condition than the last base. Navy took care of their own, especially when it came to building construction. True, these buildings were made with prefabricated parts, but at least they were made with love. Brilliant metallic colors were painted on the structures, motivational banners were draped from flagpoles, and even a tram system was installed.

"Damn." Chris said. "I wish I joined the Navy."

"We can't all be that lucky." Hera said with a thin smile.

They pulled in near Battalion Headquarters; a building with a trapezoidal pyramid on its roof with multiple antennae and satellite dishes perched at the sky. The name Kendleton was painted in bright white letters that failed to even fleck in the humidity after six years. This baby was built to last. Hell, Vennettilli was sure that the insect repellent on the windows was still fresh!

"So, who's going in first this time?"

"Not me." Chris said. "I already got attacked once by an animal today."

Jackson shrugged. "What the hell makes you think I want to go in first then?"

"Flashbangs?" Allen suggested.

"Would be nice if we had them." Samantha commented.

"We have guns." Chris stated hefting his Dyson.

"Astute observation, Captain." The fox said.

The sarcasm wooshed over Chris' head.

They came to the closest door and opened it. One shot inside scattered rodents. No ropetongues were present.

"Clear!" Allen called out.

"Clear right!" Samantha added.

"Room Clear!" Chris called out. "OK. We have this building. Let's find out what happened to everyone."

They looked around for a scannable terminal. Like at the last base, most of the monitors were scrapped. Jackson and Roan went to the third story to oversee the area. Allen reported what they found.

"Captain, the runways are clean. No planes or shuttles left. Looks like they were evacuated."

"Hmm…" Chris mumbled. "Perhaps there was a radiation warning."

"That seems solid." Hera said. "Or a possible threat of a meltdown. I don't think the UNSC wanted another Chernobyl."

"Chernobyl?"

"In the 20th Century, a Soviet nuclear power plant went critical and irradiated the area surrounding it. I remember reading it in our history books. The land is now habitable again on Mobius, but I imagine on Earth it isn't."

"Oh, you mean like the Maldovia Incident."

"Sorry?"

"Forget it…"

"Anyway, the heavily irradiated land would have forced people to escape, but if there actually was radiation, we'd be dead already."

"A threat or a feint perhaps?"

"Possibly." Hera concluded.

"Captain, it's Jackson. Think we have a terminal."

"Is it operational?" The Captain asked.

"Not exactly." Roan commented. "Hard drive seems intact though."

NICOLE chimed in. "If it has an IR adaptor, I can jack into it."

Abigail and Chris went up to the third floor to see the computer. It was a holographic model, possibly for the Commanding Officer. They found the port and NICOLE linked in. Her hologram popped up on her handheld.

"OK. I'm in; lots of clutter. They're mostly error messages."

"Can you see anything?"

"…Yes. I've found timestamp files. They're directly linked to the CO of Kendleton Base. They're lengthy so I'll summarize. The one just before file collapse states that the Talahan Rebels had captured UNSC fusion reactors and threatened to blow them up. These would create explosions as powerful as a small star. The UNSC personnel were so scared they called a continent-wide retreat. Soon, the Fratelli forces followed in 3236.

"So we were chased off the planet thanks to saboteurs?" Chris said.

"Pretty much. Would explain why nothing's here."

"And the reactors…?"

"Still operational. The rebels are using them as power sources. They still have no idea how they work, but it seems as if they know how to blow them up."

Chris didn't laugh. This was serious. The UNSC had decided to jump ship and leave the sore losers to build up more forces. With military-grade fusion reactors, they had more juice to make more weapons of war. Talahan would be able to manipulate other planets in the Eta Cassiopeia system. This would be a critical strike against the attack force to disarm the Galaxy Bomb.

"You really think that they can use them?" NICOLE asked, sensing Chris' discomfort.

"Well, one can think…"

"Hang on…" NICOLE said. "I'm going deeper into it…slicing into the main UNSC files." She looked at her friends. "Bad news: I've got a firewall."

"Well that sucks." Allen said.

"Good news: Firewall is no more!"

"Oh, well that's cool." Roan said rolling his eyes. "Classic AI: giving the bad news first."

"I am blunt, Mister Roan. I consider it a design advantage." NICOLE said smirking. Her eyes then darted from side to side. "Oh my God: In the file, it says that President John Cleary authorized the retreat, but his decision was influenced by General Assemble leader Troy Marshall!"

"So Marshall was involved…" Chris said. "Well, well, well. Imagine what you find when poking around."

Roan and Jackson refused to meet his gaze.

Chris decided to wait a little longer. He could feel a juicy confession was going to come out.

"Hold on…" NICOLE said. "I think I've found something. I'm able to connect to an orbital server left by the UNSC. Looks like they forgot to pick it up. It has a file in it that references a man codenamed BRUTUS that's working as a double agent in the Kingdom of Blaine. The message is dated three years old."

"Brutus?" Chris asked.

Jackson answered that one, "He was the one who stabbed Ceaser. Et tu, Brute?"

"Where?" Chris yelped, drawing his Dyson.

"No!" Jackson hissed. "Calm down! The book, Julius Ceaser!"

"OK…what about him?"

"In the book, Ceaser considered Brutus his trusted friend and partner, then suddenly, he was stabbed in the back by his best friend."

"Hmm, real tragedy."

"That was the point."

Chris put the pieces together. "So, this guy is essentially trying to blend in and strike when they trust him."

"I could be totally wrong though." Jackson admitted.

Hera added, "Yeah, maybe they thought BRUTUS sounded catchy. Military-ish."

"Right." The mercenary added.

"… and let me guess where he is." The Captain said groaning.

"Oh yes." Jackson nodded.

They took some time to gather some munitions from what was left of Kendleton's armoury. The place was in shambles. Mortars had caved in part of the roof, rats were infesting cracks, but other than this, it seemed perfectly safe to walk about in here.

"So, when did they get a skylight?" Chris joked.

"Probably when what was left of the rebels starting using this base for target practice." Roan suggested.

"Well, this place looks pretty intact; giant hole in the ceiling barring."

"Probably wasn't any fun without moving targets." Roan added smiling. Suddenly, something caught his eye. "Oh yes! .45 ACP!" he grabbed a handful of magazines and stuffed them in his coat pockets. "Navy shops well. These are my personal favourites."

"We don't have any .45 SMGs." Chris pointed out.

"Well, I do have this." He reached into his leather holster and pulled out a silver handgun. "M1911, custom made, fully restored."

"That's an old gun, Roan." Hera pointed out. "We use those on Mobius. They're out-dated by Human standards."

"Ah, but remember this: Underneath the body kit lays the true motor vehicle."

"So, modern workings, older shell?" Chris figured.

"Correct, and I love every Silver-Carbon inch of it."

Hera laughed. "You're not the only one I guess! Chris likes using a Desert Eagle!"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Hey, how did you know that-?"

"I read your file, Human." Hera said quickly. "I know everything about you."

"Creee-py." Roan said in the background.

Vennettilli decided to forget about it. The sooner they got whatever they needed to find, the sooner Chris could just fade into the jungle for a few months; that is of course, he didn't die during this excursion.

Suddenly he was having second thoughts about coming to Talahan at all.

The Kingdom of Blaine was a walled city with a population of just under ten thousand. It was one of the largest settlements on the continent. From what they understood thanks to brief radio channel studying, the leader of the Kingdom, King Blaine the First, was self-appointed. He was a rebel general that managed to escape UNSC jurisdiction before the war on Talahan ended. It seemed very plausible that Blaine had simply spent too much time in the foliage and developed a 'god-complex'. Actually, it was more of a reliance on God than a complex itself; Blaine sounded narcissistic as hell anyway though.

Blaine seemed to have it in his head that he could use the fusion reactors that they captured years ago to create a new army, but the people living here were miners and rebels, not nuclear fusion technicians; getting them to understand the workings of foreign equipment would take some time indeed. In the meantime, King Blaine decided that the best way to strike back at the 'fascist' people of Earth would be to start from the ground up, in the most literal use of the term. Harvests were taking place, mining operations extracted minerals, and plans for spacecraft were drafted, but it seemed that they wouldn't be anywhere near completion within decades, probably a century even.

They were heading towards the Kingdom of Blaine in the MX-22. They were dressed muscle shirts and their cargo shorts. Vennettilli suggested that they were not to wear anything that would associate them with the UNSC. Chris had lost his cap some time ago, and the only thing that he had on him was Sally's dog tags. He slid those into his pocket. The Captain took his Desert Eagle and put it into his large leg pocket. He instructed Roan to do the same with his .45.

"What about us?" Hera asked, taking her eyes off the 'road' briefly. She looked to Jackson.

"Under no circumstances can you come with us." Chris explained.

"Why? Because we're women?" Jackson said with a bit of bite.

"Oh Christ…" Allen said, putting his palm to his head.

"No, because you're Mobians. You'll spook everyone."

That argument made sense. They would stand out even more, and possibly would be imprisoned or executed. Nothing would be accomplished by bringing the girls into the city.

"Fine." The major resigned. "I'm not happy about this though."

"Don't expect you to be." Chris said, hanging his hand out of the passenger window.

The city's wall appeared from gaps in the trees. They shut the Jungle Exploration Vehicle down and looked about. The coast was clear.

"OK." Chris said vaulting out. "Me and Allen will get in and contact you. Keep your COM sets on. Hand me NICOLE, please."

Abigail passed the Human the AI unit. "Well, what are we supposed to talk about?"

"I don't know. Talk about girl things. Talk about clothes or your menstrual cycle or something."

"You're pathetic." Samantha scoffed.

"It's a full time job, Merc." Chris stated as he turned to leave. The Humans looped backpacks over their arms and marched into the jungle.

"We'll give you a call!" Allen called before they disappeared into the foliage.

There was an awkward silence for a few second. Samantha looked to Abigail and said, "So… when's your time of the month?

"Usually around the second week. How about you?"

"Eh, I'm bitchy all the time."

"I've been in a jungle before." Roan said. "Wasn't as thick as this before."

"Yeah. This is much worse than on the Fratelli continent."

"I mean, God damn! I think we forgot to pack a machete."

"Nah, I'm not a sword guy; too slow. The only people who use swords are either living in the past or psychopaths. In this day and age, guns are the way to go."

"Well, you know your girlfriend has a sword. Is she 'behind the times'?"

"You mean aside from using AK-47s? No. She uses guns. The sword's just for decoration."

Allen's curiosity kicked in. "How did you even get her into the military?"

"She volunteered actually. She wanted to know more about Humans."

"Well, she certainly accomplished that."

Chris gave the barest indication of a smile. "Is there anything Vanguard doesn't know?"

"Less than ONI, that's for sure. I'm sure other Private Military companies have a dossier of some length on you."

"I'm not the longest though, am I?"

"Are you kidding? On a scale of 1-10, you're a 2 at the most."

"Hmm, comforting."

The jungle gave way to a path. It was well worn with tire tracks and footprints trailing into the city. Two armed guards with submachine guns stood at attention in front of the gate.

"Guards. Not unexpected." Chris analyzed. "NICOLE, assessment?"

"Sneaking in seems impossible from this angle. There are other entrances, but they are likewise guarded. Cycles occur every three hours, but they're simultaneous."

"So will we have to get messy?" Allen asked.

"That actually won't be necessary, Mister Roan. I see what looks like a caravan coming up the pathway. Looks like they were coming from a neighbouring settlement."

A truck turned the corner with a few people on foot. Chris realized they had a shot after all.

"Roan, you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Fundamentally, yes." The mercenary said.

They quickly discussed a plan. While the view of the guards was obscured, they would blend into the band of mercs. The backup plan would be to act as if they were part of the group but simply fell behind.

They waited. It seemed like hours before the truck was at the gate. Thinking fast, they crept behind the traders and acted natural. These men were likely tired and extremely hungry, and didn't even give them a second glance. Roan himself wouldn't have been surprised if they thought he and Vennettilli were hallucinations.

"Ello, ser. Mershanti cando mélindi us Hartold. Tri jorni." The merchant leader was talking to the guards in Talahase. Chris could pick some of it up so he could translate. "Pasé vundom Blaine? Mes houmo et famishe."

"He says the men are hungry. He wants passage."

The guard looked at the truck. "Un momemte."

Roan had a bad vibe. "Uh oh, looks like a customs check."

"Stay cool…"

The guard circled the truck, looked under the truck and the tarps.

Chris thought fast and grabbed a handful of dirt and dust and smeared them over his arms and face. None of these tired traders paid any attention. They were coasting on pure luck alone. They had to keep rolling sevens. Allen followed suit and soon they were as grimy as the men around them. By the time the guard looked at them, they blended right into the tired troupe.

"Hmm…OK. Udom pasé."

"Danke."

It was too easy. These guards were the worst custom officers that the captain had ever seen. They simply stared right into the jungle waiting for another visitor.

"Wow. That was uneventful." NICOLE admitted.

"I know right? I nearly fainted when he looked at me." Chris said.

The inside of the Kingdom was strikingly similar to that of a developed Old West town rather than the proverbial kingdom. It had a few cultural twists to them: A mining theme was common on some buildings, the colors of the Kingdom were draped from flagpoles and a photo of a bald man with a brilliant red beard was plastered on the walls. King Blaine, to no great surprise.

"Leave the talking to me." Chris said. "You can't speak Talahase. I can, but we'll avoid contact as much as possible. I have a noticeable accent."

"Fair enough. Looks like everyone here has a weapon though."

"I have a feeling if we keep our guns out of sight, they'll avoid starting a fight."

"I disagree. I've been in a brawl before. Unarmed people are the first shot."

"Regardless, keep your weapons hidden. That's an order."

"Yes, sir."

They decided to scout the neighbourhood. It was a nearly a kilometer square of housing, warehouses and bars. Considering that this was a second-hand society, the general upkeep of the place was pretty good. The streets were reasonably clean, people seemed polite to one another, and there was actually a police force.

"Good afternoon my children. This is your king. I would wish to remind you all that military drills will be occurring later this evening. Do not be shocked to see soldiers in the streets. They will be unarmed though. Stay indoors and do not make contact with them. That is all."

"You know," Chris said, "I've never heard of a king that made direct contact with his people like this."

"You know," Allen said, "I'd like to know why he's speaking English. Why isn't he speaking the native language?"

"You're talking too much, Roan." Chris said, cautiously looking around. "Shut up…"

"Actually, Mister Roan's point is a valid one. King Blaine does, in fact, have a preference for the English language. I have been monitoring the local chatter. It seems he commonly makes addresses in English, rarely using the native tongue. My hypothesis is that he is a defector."

"Hmm, that's interesting, NICOLE." Vennettilli said.

Roan countered. "Our mission is to find BRUTUS, not determine the King's ethnicity."

The decided to have a drink. This way they could get some information about the place. The Captain had everything planned out. "NICOLE, I want you scanning for hotwords in the crowd. Anything to do with BRUTUS, ONI, or an informant."

"Done and done."

"Nice thinking, Cap." Roan said. "This way, we'll have someone we can confront.

They came to a bar which looked like it was made out of a large engine turbine. Music was coming out of it. It seemed to draw them in.

"Hey," Allen asked. "What does that say?" He was referring to the title of the bar. It was written in a geometric-style language; the script of the planet.

"It says. 'Numoia dodgàt Čhet'. It means, 'Lair of the Inebriated'. Simplified, it's 'Hooch-House'." The captain smiled at his own translation. He was glad he could smile even after what happened to him. That was going to be a new personal philosophy of his: 'Manage a smile a day, and you're on your way!'.

They went into the bar. It was a dingy little place. It was roughly the size of a small house but only had one ceiling fan. Some of the lights were either flickering or broken; this was a lair of criminals if he ever saw one. Criminals were trouble, and he was about to leave with that thought. A second thought came into his mind.

I'm a criminal, and criminals have information.

So he went forward. A drunk pair was sitting in the corner, laughing uncontrollably about a story they couldn't even talk straight about; along the back wall, a few prostitutes were surveying the crowd, looking to see which one required rented companionship, and the bartended himself was a mountain of a man. His dark skin was slick with sweat, and his head was shaved. Chris leaned on the bar.

"What'll you have?" The bartender asked. Chris was shocked momentarily.

"You speak English?"

"Yeah. Not everyone on this planet speaks that gibberish. What, thought you were the only one here who talks like that?"

"No. Are you a defector?"

"No. I just don't like this language. What'll you have?" he repeated.

"What've you got?" Allen asked.

The bartended stuck out his chest, proud of his wares. "Best selection in town. Vodka, whiskey, any drink you can think of. There's this alien shit too called Yltold. Made by those Lyshad guys. This stuff wasn't made for Humans, but it gives you a hell of a buzz." The man laughed.

Chris licked his lips. "You got non-alcoholic too?"

"Yeah, if you're a pussy."

The last thing the Captain wanted was to be insulted by the bartender.

"Pussy, huh? Alright, know how to make an Algol Genocide?"

The black man laughed. "Alright, I take it back. You ain't a pussy, you're just crazy."

"Can you make the drink?"

"Fuck yes I can make the drink." He turned to Roan. "What about you, Princess?"

"I want none of the shit he's having; Scotch on the rocks."

"That all? You're in the bush, baby. I've got a stocked bar and all you want is a scotch on the rocks?"

"What can I say? I'm one for tradition."

The bartender went to make the drinks and returned a few minutes later. The Algol Genocide was a popular drink in the Algol system. Made with combinations of both whisky and vodka with a little bit of orange juice, the Genocide sure did as advertised: put you on the ground, or your money back.

"We'd like to ask a few questions."

"What?"

"We're looking for someone."

"Are you guys bounty hunters?"

"Yeah, something like that."

The bartender leaned in. He was huge, even when hunched over.

"Let me give you a piece of advice: these guys here probably wouldn't like to hear that. Bounty Hunters aren't liked at the best of times. You guys better not be from off-world. You'd be treated even worse."

"Well, let's make sure nobody knows that. Let me reiterate:" Chris said, "We are looking for someone."

The bartender cleaned his glass. "He got a name?"

"His superiors call him BRUTUS."

"Oh, military target."

"You have any info on the down lo?"

"Not on me. Think a few guys here could give you some info though."

"I don't think they'd give it up freely."

"Not smart at all." The bartender said. "These guys probably have friends."

"Captain, I have determined someone in the room has information on our target."

Chris ignored NICOLE's message for the moment.

"I see, so how do I-?"

Suddenly, Chris felt hot breath on his neck. A man with a scar across his eye spoke in heavily accented English, "'Ey, Idioté. You must be lost or sumthing like that?"

"Ne, vundom fuver…" He tried to say.

"Don't give me that bullshit, you son of a bitch! You're asking a lot of questions!"

"I'm curious, kiss my ass." Chris said with bite.

"I think 'e's a spy." A man beside the angry person said. "Think 'e's here to fuck with the King."

Allen realized first what they needed to do. "Fuck with him, no. Fuck him up, maybe."

"Allen!"

The angry man nodded. "Ohoho, is that it, hajaquo? Yeh? Want to settle this outside?"

Chris narrowed his eyes, processing. "Let me finish my drink."

"Yeh, thanks for ordering it for me."

"I'm drinking that." Chris warned.

"Fuck you, piqui."

"I said, I'm drinking that."

The man grabbed the drink. Chris took a knife and stabbed it through the man's wrist.

The angry Talahanian screamed and clutched his wrist. His friends immediately got up and ran towards the two men. Chris landed a right hook on a charging miner, knocking him clear off his feet. Another one was charging Allen. Roan punched that one in the gut. While the man doubled over, Chris slammed him over the head with a beer bottle.

With the broken bottle, he threatened some guys who were close-by. He teased them in Talahase. One got too close and got a huge cut on his arm. He howled as blood painted his skin red. The rest of the bar got really riled up and people started fighting with one another. Out of their peripheral vision, Chris and Allen saw the bartender simply relaxing while the brawl took place. Obviously he didn't want to get involved, despite having muscles the size of pomegranates.

Chris took another slash. An angry truck driver got hit in the face. He clutched at his torn skin and sunk to the ground. Suddenly, weapons were drawn. Chris realized that this had really gotten juicy. He drew his Desert Eagle and fired it at the one who had drawn. His entire hand was blown off. Shots erupted all over the place and not necessarily at Chris or Allen. Roan had drawn his .45 and was forcing the mob of drinkers back.

"NICOLE, where's our friend?"

"heading for the door!"

They saw him. A single figure ran through the door and down the street.

"Fuck!" Chris cursed. He grabbed a chair and broke it over an armed man's head. The target was knocked cold instantly. Allen kicked a man over a railing where he broke a table. The two sprinted out the door while the fight was still going on.

The bartender lit a cigarette and drew a shotgun. "My week just got interesting."

Allen and Chris barely caught the man going around the corner. They ran at full speed while avoiding people.

"Haut!" Chris called. "Haut!"

Allen realized that he was trying to make the running man stop, but that terrified person wanted none of it. He toppled crates to try and stop the two soldiers, but Chris and Allen vaulted over it.

"I'll take the left turn!" Allen said. He ran down that street. He was sure that it would connect later. Roan saw the informant through gaps in the buildings.

Chris on the other hand was starting to get tired. He got close to the man, but started to lose speed. Thinking he was losing his pursuer, the informant laughed and rounded the corner, only to find that it was a dead-end alley.

Allen got there first to block his escape. The man tried to climb the steel wall to no avail.

"Ne! Ne! Patum volcé! Ne! Čhvaiá!" Chris turned the corner. As soon as the scared man saw the Marine's gun, he started to go crazy. "AH! Ügunda Dio! Plesé! Haut!" He saw that he wasn't getting anywhere. "UNSC! Stop! Please!"

"You know someone named Brutus?"

"Ne! nevo!"

Chris slapped the man with the grip. "English you little twat! I know you speak it!"

"I don't know anything!"

Allen shook his head. "He's lying."

"I agree. Subject is our man with .002 percent chance of failure. Captain, please allow me to project myself."

NICOLE's hologram appeared. "We were monitoring conversations in the bar. You used 'Brutus' fifteen times, ONI twice, and a myriad of other incriminating terms such as 'infiltrator', 'UNSC' and 'Earth'.

"I am simply a patriot!"

"Rebel." Chris breathed. "Who's Brutus?"

"I don't know!"

NICOLE said, "Captain, I don't think this man is going to give up information without persuasion."

Chris nodded sadly. "I see. You promise you won't tell Sally about this."

NICOLE and Chris locked eyes. "I promise." She said.

Chris stomped on the man's hand. He screamed for a second but Allen wrapped a gag in his mouth. "Who's Brutus?"

"Nevo Paiino!"

He stomped again. He felt the man's finger bones shift.

"Who is he?" Allen said with power.

"He's nobody!"

"Allen. Break his arm."

He found a pipe, made sure the hand didn't move, and swung. With a sick crack, the man's arm twisted. If the gag wasn't in his mouth, the man would have screamed loudly. Instead, it was merely a muffled whimper. Tears were rolling from his eyes, but Chris wanted a name.

"Tell me who his is, or the other arm goes." Allen took the gag off.

"STOP! OK! He's a spy! The…the UNSC…put him here to watch the king! He says that he wants to start a war again!"

"Who, the king or Brutus?" Chris asked.

The man passed out though.

"FUCK!" Allen said. "All that work for nothing!"

Chris was about to say something, but something hit him in the back of the skull. He felt pain as his body shook violently. Someone had shot him with a stun gun. Electricity surged through him until his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell over unconscious.

Allen turned, but a rifle but slammed him in the face. He was knocked out before he hit the ground. Police officers had arrived from the bar brawl. They overheard the screaming and came to investigate. The dragged Vennettilli and Roan into a transport.

Hera and Samantha were bored beyond belief. With nothing to do, all they did was watch the sun set.

"How many moons does this place have?" Hera asked.

"According to the computers there are four. They all light up on some nights."

"Sounds pretty."

"I guess. Better than just one."

"You mean half of one." Abigail noted

"Right, half of one." Samantha said. "Humans have all the fun." Her smile disappeared. "Major, do you know anything about Humans?"

Hera shrugged. "Some things. Why?"

"I just wanted to know, I mean, I've been with Allen a couple years now. He's really nice. I just wanted to know, is it so wrong that I like him?"

"You mean, because you're Mobian?"

"Exactly. Is it such a crime to love someone who's different?"

"Samantha, no. It's not wrong at all. Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"I…I'm not sure yet."

"We're all different. Why do we love anybody? We feel like we have a connection with them, that's why."

"I see. I guess I just needed someone to tell me so."

"Don't worry. My folks were different. It didn't stop them even though my grandparents had issues with it."

A radio call broke the conversation. "Jackson! Hera! Help! We've been captured!"

"NICOLE?" Abigail asked.

"Yes! Allen and Chris are in custody, I have been taken as well! We need help!"

"Where are you going?" The major asked.

"The government building! I think they're taking us to see the king!"

"OK! We'll come get you."

"OK, I'll give you directions as you go. Hurry up; things are going to hell here!"

They grabbed guns from the car. "Are you sure this is necessary, Jackson?" Abigail asked.

"It's like she said. Things have gone to hell." She inserted a magazine and racked the charging lever. "Let's go get our boys back."