Author's Notes: Evening all. This post is gonna be as fast as possible, since I have a ton of work left to do tonight. I'd apologize for the delay...but I can't. I've had at least one exam or midterm project (note the term "at least") due every week now for the last month, and I'm a little burnt out. Also, this chapter isn't really what I was wanting it to be, but it's been written for two weeks...I just haven't been able to make it perfect, and I decided that a decent chapter now is better than a might-be-better-than-decent chapter in another two or three weeks (when my schedule calms down). So...yeah. That's where we're at.
To anyone who loves fighting...well, wait a bit. This chapter is more for character and personality than Flood-killing...but don't worry - there's always something. ;)
Without further wait...
REVIEWS:
pottervspendragon: Trust me, I was really excited just to get to post again! I know, it's hard to believe given my long hiatus and unreliable timing...but I do love this story. :P
ching965: I appreciate the compliment. And perhaps I am hard on myself, but it works well to most ends, and it keeps my head from swelling large enough to get its own small set of planets orbiting it. Also, you are entirely right - Zeke is going to catch some major "flak" for keeping things out of his hands.
Oh, and yes - if I can, I will be incorporating ideas from Reach, if not in this book (due to the setting and the resources available to them), certainly in the last book. Thanks very much!
JiraiyaTheToadSage: You just had to pick an obscenely-long, difficult name for me to remember, didn't you? ;) But seriously, welcome back Jackals. :)
Hopefully you still like the writing as much as you say, and now you can get to see EXACTLY what gets said. Thanks for reviewing!
Rathnier Nithvolr: lol, glad you enjoyed it. It wasn't stellar, but I hope to get back up to my "par" level here soon. Maybe if I could get some consistency, it wouldn't be problem, lol. And yes - Blaine and Steph are *polar* opposites - part of what makes them so much fun. :P Thank you for your review!
killerman83ca:
1. Yes.
2. Blaine rocks.
3. I thought so.
4. YES
5. You don't have to!
Thanks very much for the review and the insights - my brother got Reach, so I've gotten to see it more than once. Always a plus. :)
Drake S. Hellion: lol, I appreciate your faith in me (since I haven't misplaced it just yet...). And I was hoping for Zeke's decision to be one that people could look at either way and say, "yeah...that just sucks all around." There wasn't meant to be any one good answer - otherwise Sam would've found it, as he always does. Also - I hope not to scare you again. :P
Thanks!
The Elven-Spear: I am glad that the chapter was sufficient for you. Hopefully this one measures up equally well (or better?).
...what's a huggle?
Vault Boy: Glad to see you're still around! And very glad you're still enjoying the story, even if the time to do long, drawn-out responses evades you (don't feel bad - it runs from me too). And I fully intend to get Reach...eventually. I'm just kinda poor right now. Writing for FanFiction doesn't pay well ;)
Eternity of Night: Well, take it from someone who has dumped more ideas than he's recorded: I understand. The "Backburner" as it's called, is often slanted, and things just seem to fall off entirely after a time. Then Lord only knows where they go...
Glad SOMEONE liked the "Cruiser's on fire" line, lol. Or at least someone commented on it. And I can't blame you for liking Blaine...he's kind of a scary guy. Hard not to like, really...unless you're Covenant...or Flood...or ONI...pretty much if you're not on his "friends list".
Thanks for the compliments! Enjoy!
russianbear0027 (aka: DennisK): LOL - I don't blame you a bit. And I do apologize that you had to suffer through the first twelve chapters again (lol). Imagine me having to re-read them to make sure nothing screws with what I wanted to write. ;)
And I'm certainly honored you would come back and read, just for my little tidbits that get posted on the rare occassion I find time to type. Thanks much for the review, and I hope you like what's on the way!
xcavars: lol, thanks for understanding. Honestly, everyone's been pretty good about it (which is a plus). Still, I like to post regularly...I just don't have the time I used to. Oh, and like DennisK...I apologize you had to go suffer through the first dozen chapters again. ;) Imagine my pain when I had to do it too! And I wrote the darn things! Thanks for the review!
BTW: I did look at your other review, and you'll be pleased to know that there's a scene not TOO far off that you should very much enjoy. :)
Ildina Dusklea: I don't blame you. I'd stab me too (though, if you're going to, can we put me out of my school-based misery? Hahaha). And you bring up a great point: it SHOULD have been better. I wanted it to be. I just couldn't make it work on paper like it did in my head. It's very, very rough trying to find my "groove" again when I don't get enough time to write consistently, and it shows. :(
Trust me - I can't wait to get Vic involved in the story. But I'm not trying to paint Zeke in any light but the one he's always been under - hopefully this chapter clears up the misconceptions a bit.
Thanks very much for your review and I hope you like it. :)
FireWolfFred: I am still alive! And yeah...I was kinda missing them too. But they're back!
...as often as I can get them posted on here, you for the compliments too - it's nice to hear. :) And I'm glad you commented on the decisions, because that's a big part of this book: decisions, choices, consequences. Things are going to be nearly as, "go here. Kill that. Leave. Go there. Kill that. Stop this. Leave." as they were in the first book. There will be very rough decisions (moral and logical) placed on the team, and they'll have to adapt and harden to deal with some of them (like this one).
Also, trust me - I KNOW how repetative it gets. I'm trying to keep it fresh until the new stuff really starts coming into play (which won't be long - I promise). Just bear with me and if you come up with anything cool in your head about what I could do with the Flood we have (for now), please don't hesitate to let me know. :)
Thanks again!
Mhop12: I have no idea...probably the same thing that possessed me to try and cram a four-year program into two by switching tracts half-way through college (which, no matter what statistics tell you, is dumb...don't do it if you can help it). And I will TRY to never make you wait that long again. I will try my hardest. And, if I do...spam away! :) Thanks for reviewing for me!
And, with that - I am done posting for the night. CHAPTER TIME!
Chapter 13:
– Long Time Coming –
0200 Hours - July 19, 2553
Abandoned Hotel - Orovada, Nevada
Blaine exhaled loudly, waiting on Samuel to begin. The Spartans had traveled east for almost two hours before being forced by time to settle on a place to stop and wait for the satellites to pass. In the end, they'd decided on a small town in the remains of northern Nevada, where an abandoned hangar provided cover for the Phantom and an almost completely-intact hotel sufficed as shelter for Zulu Company while Miedema waited inside the dropship.
The place was in such good shape, in fact, that there was power throughout the entire building. The lights worked. The ventilation was operating (though Samuel remained nervous about it). Even the miscellaneous electronics – small computers, electronic key-cards for the rooms, and announcement systems – were all intact and working at full capacity.
Now the entire team was seated in the lobby of the building, except for Samuel, who stood at the front desk, and Ezekiel, who was standing against the far wall with his arms crossed at his chest. Samuel and Landon were the only ones who had elected to keep their helmets on, but Blaine could tell by his posture and body language alone that the brown-armored Spartan was both anxious and angry.
Though, about what, he wasn't sure.
"There's no easy way to tell you all this." The leading Spartan began. "The goals in Los Angeles that we had set for us were all realized. The mission was a success." His tone didn't match his words – he sounded like he was on the edge of collapse.
"So why are you so…off?" Stephanie asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
Samuel breathed hard before answering. "While inside the ship, Zeke discovered that Gravemind had taken hostages of sorts. There were people inside, likely being used as labor for the Flood."
Blaine raised an eyebrow. There had been people?
Stephanie started to speak, but Samuel interrupted her. "I wasn't aware of the situation before I received the message from Demon that informed me of their presence there. By that time, Blaine and Stephanie had detonated the bombs, Landon had done his job, and Ezekiel was still on the Cruiser-"
"How many?" Stephanie asked, obviously working to keep her composure. "How many were there?"
Samuel exhaled hard again. "We believe there were around three hundred people."
Instantly, she was on her feet and yelling. "And you didn't tell us? Why wouldn't you even ask our opinions? Those were people, Sam! Human Beings! And they're dead because of us!" She was shaking her head back and forth as if trying to remove the memory from her mind. "We killed them."
"There wasn't time." Samuel answered sadly, but calmly. He'd rehearsed this already, known what was coming. "I was put in a position to make a choice quickly, and I did."
"You didn't tell us!" She maintained. "I understand if you couldn't have taken our advice, but you didn't even tell us! And why was that the only choice? We could have helped them. Why didn't we wait to blow the ship-"
"Because I wouldn't wait," Zeke snapped, silencing her. "Samuel wasn't given a choice. I was going to blow up the ship no matter what order he gave, and I told him so."
"Zeke, shut up." Samuel countered, and the smaller Spartan seemed to recoil slightly. "I don't need you lying to defend me." He paused, turning back to Stephanie. "We had no way to transport them, even if by a miracle we could save them. We had nowhere to take them-"
"We could have taken them back-" She started, and Blaine could tell instantly that she didn't mean it, but couldn't accept in her mind that their only option had been to take life rather than save it.
"Steph," Samuel said, shaking his head. "There's no way. You know that."
At this point, Blaine watched tears begin to well up in her eyes, and he felt his own eyes widen at the sight. He had seen her upset before, distraught at lost lives that they had tried to save, but this…
This was different. They had taken life, and Stephanie knew it.
"I didn't sign for this." She said sadly, and then she stood up and walked to the stairwell on one side, disappearing from sight.
After several moments of silence, Landon finally spoke. "We had no choice, right?" He didn't seem to be asking anyone in particular.
"The ship was space-worthy." Zeke answered matter-of-factly. "Those people were either going to be infected or kept on as slaves for the Flood. And you didn't see them; they were beaten, bruised…dying." He paused. "We had no choice."
Blaine nodded, turning to Samuel. "You made the right call."
Sam scoffed – an unusual expression for him. "Yeah, I know."
"You could have told us." Landon said. "I know you had a decision to make, but you owed us that."
"I didn't tell you because I knew there would be disagreement, and putting your minds on anything other than the mission very easily could've gotten everyone killed." Samuel answered. "Everyone is on a need-to-know basis, and at the time, you didn't need to know."
"Then why tell us now?"
Blaine wondered the same thing. It really served no purpose, and Samuel would have likely done better for himself to never let them know, especially Stephanie.
"I made the choice to destroy the Cruiser because I believed it was the right thing to do." He paused. "I feel the same way about letting all of you know what has gone on and what we have to do to win this. I didn't want to tell you…trust me, I didn't. But you have a right to know."
Landon laughed bitterly. "And if we didn't wanna know?"
Samuel took off his helmet, looking around the room, first at Blaine, then at Landon. "Then I'm very sorry."
Blaine closed his eyes, letting it sink in. He had never seen these people, had no idea they existed. Somehow, knowing that they had didn't change much. They were still a faceless group, no more or less individual than the Flood he was so accustomed to slaughtering. It wasn't that he didn't pity them, didn't regret that they had to die…it was that he knew, in his heart and his mind that it had to happen.
He had come to grips with reality while looking at the smoking, burning ruins of the island of Mahé. The truth, no matter how horrible it was, was that the Spartans would have to burn the world to ash in order to stop the Flood. And, with that, people would die – hundreds, maybe thousands – depending on how many were left.
It was a reality that Stephanie couldn't face yet, and one that would haunt Samuel for the rest of his days even though he had. Blaine knew those two facts for certain.
For him and Ezekiel, it was just part of the job: people died. They'd both push it to the back and go on with life. Landon would be able to get by; he'd rationalize it as "following orders" and "stopping the Flood". But that wouldn't be enough for Sam or Steph. No, they'd hold themselves personally accountable for every injury, every tragic death.
"Zeke, I need to speak with you, now." Samuel didn't wait for an answer. He put his helmet back on and walked slowly out of the room.
And, without a word, the black-armored soldier followed in his footsteps, leaving Blaine and Landon to themselves.
Ezekiel braced himself for the yelling that he knew was coming before he even walked through the open door to Room 104. He'd crossed a line, and he knew it, but it wasn't for his own ends, like it usually was. He had a genuine reason this time-
"Close the damn door." Samuel snapped as he walked in. Zeke was taken aback by the bitterness in the statement, right from the start. Samuel never swore. It just didn't happen. He suppressed any reaction to the statement as he shut the door and looked up to see the Spartan standing without his helmet. His right arm was braced against the wall and he was glaring down at Ezekiel, breathing through his teeth.
Sam was pissed.
Ezekiel raised his hands defensively. "Before you say anything-"
"What is wrong with you?" He shouted, removing his arm from the wall. "You don't think I'd wanna know that we were about to kill three-hundred freaking people?"
"I didn't want you to have to deal with it." Zeke answered. "You-"
"Why, Zeke?" He growled. "You worried I wouldn't have the guts to make the call? You think that, if you don't step up and do my job for me, that it won't get done?"
"That wasn't why-"
"Do you want my job?" Samuel asked suddenly, quieter but still clearly infuriated, and completely serious.
Ezekiel cocked an eyebrow, confused. "What?"
"My job," Samuel clarified. "Do you want it? Do you think you can do it better? Because you clearly know something that I don't-"
"I don't want your damn job."
"Then stop acting like it!" Samuel was clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, breathing through his teeth again. He was beyond angry; he was seething. "I'm sick of it! When have I ever given you a reason to doubt me, so much that you would think you have to do my job for me?"
"That wasn't why, Sam."
The larger Spartan ignored him. "Why can't you just trust me to do what I have to do, like I trust you to do?"
Zeke took a deep breath, slowing his heart-rate and his breathing before he spoke. "I did trust you, Sam." He said. "I trusted you to make the right decision – knew you would, in fact. That's why I wasn't going to tell you."
Samuel seemed to calm slightly, having gotten his thoughts off his chest, but was still extremely tense and angry – Ezekiel could see it in his face. "It wasn't your call to make. Don't act like you didn't realize that."
"I know," Zeke admitted. "But I knew that, when faced with the decision, you would know that we had no choice; the ship had to be destroyed. I thought it would be better if you and others didn't have to live with it on your consciences."
Sam shook his head. "I don't need you 'protecting' me, or whatever it is you think you're doing when you go around me, Zeke. I also don't need you pulling this loner bull and acting surprised when I'm not thankful. Most importantly, I don't need you questioning my every order-"
"I made the call because I knew your order!" Zeke snapped back. "I didn't want you to have to live with the decision to end their lives-"
"Why not?" Sam asked bitterly. "Why should you be the one to live with it? Are you suddenly more capable of dealing with guilt than the rest of us, 'cause I really don't see it. I've seen the way you handle self-blame, and I gotta tell you – I'm not impressed."
"Because there's already blood on my hands!" Ezekiel found himself yelling now, even though he'd vowed to keep his temper in check. It was understandable for Samuel to be angry, and he had no right to question the leading Spartan's ridicule.
But he was anyway.
"Blood on your hands," Samuel repeated, "how many times have I heard that now?"
"I'm damned, Samuel." He said. "Like it or not, I'm a damned man with blood on his hands and stains on his soul. There's no fixing that, Sam."
Samuel rolled his eyes. "You're not 'damned', Zeke. You're just a little lost."
"You say 'potato', I say 'damned'." He shrugged. "My point is this: those three-hundred people are nothing to me. Do I feel horrible that I caused their deaths? Of course I do; it's eaten at me since the moment I snapped my fingers. But do I feel any worse than I have for months? No! I couldn't tell the difference if I tried."
"That doesn't excuse going around me."
"I wasn't trying to circumvent you, Sam." He said bluntly. "I was executing the same order I trusted you to make, but I was trying to spare you the guilt that I know you're feeling right now. I was trying to avoid the fallout that you're gonna see and may have already seen a little bit with Stephanie. If I was the only one who knew, no one would ever be the wiser, because I don't hurt or hate or regret any more or less than I did this time yesterday."
"I know this might be hard for you to understand, but you are not the only one of us strong enough to deal with the consequences of our actions." Samuel's voice had lowered and leveled out in a tone that more resembled frustration than actual anger. "We're soldiers, Spartans. We will all live and die with our own sins, and we'll accept the consequences when they arrive."
Ezekiel rolled his eyes. "That's asinine-"
"I don't care!" Samuel silenced him in a second. "No matter how you justify it to yourself, I know you, and I know that this is just another way of you asserting your superiority in that "you can handle it" and the rest of us can't. And I'm sick and tired of it."
Now Zeke was pissed. "You have no idea what my motives are, and I suggest you stop putting your beliefs on my actions. I was attempting to do you a favor, just like I did in the lobby, and you threw it in my face."
At this, Sam seemed confused, but his apparent rage didn't falter. "What?" he snapped.
"The lobby," Zeke repeated, "you know, when I tried to take the fall for the three hundred people we killed?" He paused. "You're welcome, by the way."
He cocked his head back, as if seeing the smaller Spartan in the room for the first time. "You're serious?"
"Yes, I'm serious! What do you think? That I'm talking to hear my head rattle?"
Samuel shook his head. "You were actually trying to help this time?" Even though he sounded somewhat convinced, Ezekiel could still hear the skepticism in his voice.
"For God's sake, Sam, yes, I was! That was my point! What the Hell have I been saying this whole time-"
Sam dismissed the speech with a wave of his hand as his facial expression seemed to soften ever-so slightly. Ezekiel wasn't sure if the other Spartan had calmed down, or if he was just so stunned in disbelief that the rage couldn't be seen. "If you're yanking my chain to get out of a fight-"
"When have I ever given a damn about avoiding a confrontation?"
Samuel scoffed. "I thought for a long time that it'd be nice of you to try and help out for a change." He rolled his eyes. "My mistake."
The smaller Spartan scowled, suddenly more uncomfortable and angry than he had been when he had first walked into the room. He silently wished that the giant Spartan would go back to shouting. The short, bitter jabs were unfamiliar and – worse – disconcerting.
"While I am sorry for assuming the worst," the Spartan was talking slowly, calmly, as if he had to force the sentence out, "it doesn't change anything." His voice hardened again. "You were out of line. You took it upon yourself to do handle a situation that wasn't yours to deal with, circumventing me and undermining the authority that I still have."
"I was trying to-"
Samuel stopped him, though his voice had leveled out considerably. "I know. I get it. I understand what you were trying to do, but you need to understand me." Zeke could tell by the new tone that Sam had snapped in the beginning and for some reason had come to regret it – now he was working not to lose his composure again.
He could also tell that the larger soldier's patience was already wavering.
"You disrespected me, which I can live with. What I can't live with is you going around me, behind my back. This time, it was an issue of morality. Next time, it could get somebody killed, and I won't have it."
"I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize anyone's life, Sam." Zeke protested. "I think I deserve enough credit to vanquish that fear."
"That's part of the problem." Samuel answered.
"What is?"
"You have to place your faith in the rest of this team, and in me too. You used to do it, but then Vic left and…" Samuel's words drifted off until he shook his head a moment later, bringing the conversation back. "You got your confidence back in yourself – or at least some of it – but you still can't bring yourself to serve with the team, under me. And, I'm sorry to say it, but if you can't learn to do that again, then you're not a part of this team."
Zeke shook his head. "Meaning what?"
"Ezekiel, I don't wanna say this, but you're not giving me a choice." He paused. "I'm done excusing it, all this loner crap. It stops here. You gave me your word that you'd follow my orders. Now you're gonna make good on it, or you're gone."
"Gone?"
"You heard me. You're forcing my hand. I'm done playing this back-and-forth game. This is it. It's the last time I'm going to say it, and it's the last time I'm going to tolerate all this "one-man-army" crap." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to have this conversation again. If I have to…I'm taking you back to Mahé, and I am dropping you off. Are we clear?"
Ezekiel's eyes widened, trying to gauge just how serious his leader was. What he realized was that the brown-armored soldier was completely serious, in every sense of the word. Zeke had pushed every button there was to be pressed, and the strain on the team had been enough to drive Samuel to swear and to give the smaller soldier an ultimatum that would almost certainly result in his death.
He'd known from the moment he saw those people that Samuel had to be notified, without a doubt in his mind. He'd known it was wrong not to pass the information up the chain for the leader to decide on. But he'd pushed it all aside in order to go on with his mission.
Was there merit to what Samuel said? Had he really just put himself above the team, above Sam? Was there really a measure of superiority to his actions? Why was he the "only one" who could deal with the weight on his conscience? Why should he be the only one?
And in deciding to act as he had, he had put Samuel in a position to take life or give Ezekiel's away to the Flood. He had circumvented his authority, made him play the fool once again, giving orders that were redundant, at best, to a soldier who, for all he knew, didn't give a damn what he thought.
In trying to help, he had gone too far.
"Are we clear?" He repeated.
Ezekiel realized for the first time exactly how much pressure he'd put on Samuel, how much stress he'd put on everyone around. He had never really been a "team player", but it was excusable to a point, and the rest of Zulu Company cut him more slack than anyone could have been expected to. And he had still taken it too far. He had pushed until Sam – calm, patient, "everyone first but me" Sam – had no choice but to push back.
"Yes sir." He answered, and left the room.
Landon tried to be as quiet as possible while rummaging through the cabinets in and around the lobby's storage closet. He was starving, but had yet to find anything remotely edible other than a tiny bag of potato chips, hardly the meal of a Spartan.
"What the Hell are you looking for?" Blaine snapped.
"Food!" Landon answered, opening another cabinet door. When he saw nothing but empty shelves, he moved to the next one in line, grabbing a tiny lock that held the twin doors in place and snapping it easily before opening them-
He stopped cold.
"Find something?"
"You could say that," he answered, staring into the cupboard. What he saw unfortunately wasn't food, but rather a dozen shelves all stocked to the brim with various drink mixes and bottles – and all of them were alcoholic. "Damn it," he growled.
"Found the alcohol, I see." Zeke was suddenly standing behind him, and Landon jumped away, instantly embarrassed, both that the other Spartan could scare him, and that he could sneak up on him in the first place.
"Every time, Zeke?" he asked. "Do you have to do that every freakin' time?"
The other Spartan only shrugged, reaching into the cabinet and grabbing a pair of dark bottles before turning around and tossing one of them loosely to Blaine.
"Not much of a last meal," the cybernetic Spartan said casually, catching the bottle and glancing at the label.
"You're not serious?" Landon asked. "We're on duty! I mean, I'd normally be all for a little R&R, but did you not see Samuel? In case you've forgotten, he's kinda pissed!"
He heard the top of Blaine's bottle pop off. "You make it sound like we're doing this for fun. Personally, I'm just thirsty."
"And I'm tired, but you don't see me lying down for a nap." Samuel was suddenly standing in the doorway.
"Shit, Sam," Blaine said, "we're just camping out for the next eight hours anyway. Then it's several more hours to Mombasa. Who gives a damn?" He took a swig of the dark liquid in the bottle.
Samuel walked over to the smaller Spartan and snatched the alcohol from his hand. "I do. Don't you think the risk is great enough that we should all be in top shape, not drunk and disorderly?" He glanced at Ezekiel, who placed his own bottle on a nearby counter, raising his hands defensively.
"Fine," Blaine said, waving him off. "No rest for the weary." He paused. "You seen anything else to drink around here?"
Samuel shrugged. "Gael thinks there might be food and water in the basement, in a refrigerator or a freezer. If it wasn't opened when the staff cleared out, it'd mostly all still be good."
"Works for me." Blaine stood up slowly. "Comin', smartass?" he gave a quick glance at Ezekiel, who was still standing next to Landon at the cabinet.
The other Spartan shrugged. "Sure," he said, and turned to leave.
"Before you go," Samuel said, stopping them. "I'm looking for Steph."
"Second floor," Zeke answered without missing a beat. "Room 213."
Samuel nodded. "Stay sharp," he said, and left the room.
When Landon saw Blaine exit the room as well, he realized that he had to choose between sitting in the lobby, alone and hungry, or following two Spartans who would likely mock him the entire way into the basement…
"Hey! Hey, wait up!" He yelled, rushing from the room.
Samuel tried to think of how to approach the conversation he was about to have, but he knew in his head that there was no "good" way to go about it. Stephanie felt angry, betrayed, and was more than a little distraught – both at the sheer loss of life and also at the fact that she had had some part in it.
So when he reached the door on the second floor that read "213", cracked ever so slightly open, he hesitated at making his presence known. Stephanie had always trusted him without question, and even though he knew that he'd made the right choice in Los Angeles, Samuel couldn't help but feel like he had betrayed the trust she'd put in him.
Still, it had to happen. The Flood had to be stopped. People would suffer along the way – civilians and Spartans alike – but it was unavoidable.
And so was his talk with Stephanie.
Reluctantly, Samuel knocked loudly on the door.
"It's open." Her voice was neutral – that was a good sign.
Samuel stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. "Can we talk?"
"You're the boss. We do whatever you say." She answered coldly. The leading Spartan sighed.
"Don't be like that, Steph," he said. "This wasn't what I wanted either."
She seemed to snap, all at once. "I don't care what you wanted, Sam." She growled. "You made a choice to end the lives of three-hundred living, breathing, feeling human beings, and you did it without so much as a word of counsel, without even taking the time to think it over before you had Zeke snap his fingers."
"What was I supposed to do?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level. Dealing with Stephanie was not the same as dealing with Blaine or Ezekiel – yelling wouldn't solve his problems. "We couldn't save them. We had no way to do so."
"That's not the point." She maintained. "The point is that you didn't care one bit what the rest of us thought, and you just took it upon yourself to get the blood of three-hundred people on our hands!"
"I couldn't tell you before the mission was over because I knew you'd react this way!" Sam was talking louder now, but it was only anxiety that showed, not anger or frustration. "I couldn't have you questioning me when Zeke's life was on the line, when the whole mission could still fail."
"Of course," she said bitterly, "the mission. It's all about this great mission to stop the Flood, something that the UNSC couldn't do even with the help of the Sangheili, something that the Master Chief only thought he accomplished." She scoffed loudly. "Hell, something even the Forerunner had to burn the entire galaxy to do, and you think we're just going to take them on with a handful of Spartans?"
"We can," Samuel answered confidently. "We're a third of the way there now."
"The easy part," she said. "We struck out of nowhere, on an area that he wasn't ready to defend from us. And sure, Mombasa will probably play out similarly, but what about Sydney? How are we supposed to beat the Flood at their home?" She paused. "And what about Vic? We should be going to the Citadel to find her and bolster our numbers-"
"We go to the Citadel as soon as we plant the bomb in New Mombasa and stop back at the Seychelles to check on Jason. As soon as we're done there, we'll go, and we will get her back."
Still, Stephanie seemed unconvinced. "I trusted you." She said sadly. "I put every ounce of faith in you I could spare, and you went and traded lives that weren't ours to give away. How am I supposed to get beyond that?"
At this, Samuel realized that he wasn't getting anywhere. She was still angry, still upset, and no amount of talking was going to solve anything until she calmed down and realized that the decision he had made was the only real option for any of them.
"You're going to have to." He said. "We still have a job to do, and I need you for this. I can't do it without you."
"I'm still under your orders," she answered. "I'm just not as fond of it as I used to be."
"Well, I hope you can get over that. In the meantime, please try to understand: you cannot imagine the pain and stress that went into making that choice. You can't fathom the guilt that I'm living with right now. As angry as you are, you can still take solace in the knowledge that you didn't know what you were doing, that you were mislead, if you choose to believe that. But me? I gave the order. I told Zeke to destroy the Covenant Cruiser, and in doing so I told him to kill those people."
"Sam-"
"Whatever you think you're feeling…whatever 'blood' you think is on your hands…it is nothing compared to what is on my head right now. It's almost enough to make me wish that Gael had never told me in the first place." He paused, taking a deep breath and forcing the emotions to the back of his mind. "But that's my place. It's not fair for me to let Zeke take the responsibility for it all, and so I had to be told. I had to give that order, because it's my job and my place…and my duty to accept the consequences."
Stephanie's features seemed to soften the slightest bit upon hearing the last of Samuel's words, but it didn't matter – not at that moment. All he could think about were those three-hundred innocent people, people that he might as well have executed himself…
It wasn't normal for him to spill. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't right. He was supposed to be strong, the fearless leader that never wavered and never had second-thoughts. He didn't have the luxury of saying that hindsight was twenty-twenty. It all had to be right, the first time, and without fail. If not, it was on him.
And even if it was, the consequences still rested with him.
That was what threw him off the most about Stephanie's reaction. She was the one that it was easiest to speak with – and why not? She had more faith in him than all the others combined-
Or, at least, she had at one time.
Now Samuel was pushing the limits of her belief in him and in his cause. And that wasn't even the worst part – the worst of it was that, for all his speech about it being "the right move", Samuel still wasn't sure. He had asked God with what few minutes he had to think it over. He had begged for an answer, for a sign or even just a hint as to what had to be done. It was too much for one man to contemplate, and he couldn't bring it to the others – they had to keep their minds focused on the job at hand, or they could have all been killed.
And God hadn't answered him. Or maybe He had. Samuel wasn't sure. In those ninety seconds between speaking with Zeke and making the call, he had panicked for the first time since he'd become a part of Zulu Company. There had been a decision to make, and he wasn't ready for it. Consequently, he knew that his mind wasn't clear – it was frantic. God could have lit up a neon sign in front of his eyes, and he wouldn't have noticed. How was one man supposed to make a decision to save or destroy the lives of three-hundred people? How could it be justified in his mind or anyone else's?
"Sam, I'm sorry." Stephanie said all of a sudden. Her voice yanked him from his thoughts in an instant. "I just have a lot to think about. I know it wasn't easy for you either, but it was different for me. I signed up to save lives, not to take them." She breathed heavily, pushing back tears. "I don't know if I'm willing to give up my compassion to stop them. Because that's what it'll come down to: we'll have to give up our humanity and fight like them – sacrificing whoever we have to in order to win, parting with lives by the hundreds or even thousands if it means a key victory. I don't know if I can do it."
Samuel nodded, trying to keep his voice and his expressions level and calm, even though a storm of emotions was raging just beneath the surface. "Good," he managed, "because I don't know if I can either."
The basement was huge, and it bordered on an absolute maze in Blaine's eyes. They'd entered from an elevator near the lobby, but Ezekiel's AI – much like Gael – had no schematics for the hotel, and they'd since been wandering around aimlessly through corridors that were almost downright scary in appearance. To put it plainly, the basement resembled a dungeon more than it did a storage space for an extravagant business.
"This place is ridiculous." Landon complained. "What kind of hotel has a basement this size? It wouldn't be out of place in the Natural History Museum."
"Like you've ever been to a museum," Blaine laughed.
"For your information-"
"Save it." Zeke snapped from the front.
Landon seemed unaffected by the harshness of the order. "Fine," he said bitterly. "On another note: where's the damn food? We might as well have looked for the kitchen upstairs."
"We can always turn around." Blaine suggested, more bored with their current expedition than anything else. "What do you think, Zeke?"
For some reason, the black-armored Spartan seemed more driven than Blaine could account for. He insisted on leading the way, and he stopped periodically anywhere there was a split path, cocking his head back and waiting before moving forward with a level of confidence that was – if nothing else – very strange.
"We have to keep looking." He answered.
"Why?" Landon asked. The other Spartan stopped.
"Because we're not alone down here," he answered coldly.
Blaine understood instantly. "That's what you've been doing: following a scent."
He nodded.
"Pure or Combat Forms?" Landon asked, reaching for his Shotgun.
"Neither," the other Spartan answered, shaking his head. "Humans. People."
Blaine was confused. If there were people here, they had to know that the Spartans were inside the hotel. Why would they hide?
"And I'm not sure if you guys noticed, but almost every town and village we passed since Los Angeles had lights of some kind coming from it."
Blaine's eyes widened, thinking about it. He was right. "They weren't on when we were on our way there, though…"
Zeke nodded. "Exactly," he said. "There's been no power anywhere for months. Anyone else find it odd and a little discomforting that, the moment we make trouble for that parasitic bastard, lights come on all over the country?"
"What does it mean?" Landon asked.
"Good question. In the meantime, I say we find the people down here and see if they know anything."
"You think there's a main security room or something down here? Somewhere they would hide and go into lockdown?"
"There were cameras in the lobby." Zeke answered. "I watched one in the corner move to face Sam shortly after he started talking."
Landon seemed appalled. "Why didn't you say something to him?"
Zeke laughed bitterly. "Do you even listen when you talk? In case you hadn't noticed, our fearless leader was a little angry with me up there. You think I could have avoided a fist-fight if I tried to interrupt his monologue?"
"I suppose not." Landon admitted. "Well, the camera…maybe motion-tracking?"
Blaine shook his head. "Would have caught him when he walked up to the desk, not after he started talking."
"Then audio? Maybe it picked up on the sound and honed in on that?"
"You're way too hopeful." Zeke answered. "And, all that aside, I smell human blood down here."
"They're bleeding?"
He shook his head. "All it takes is a cut, a scrape, a bloody lip. Whatever it is, it isn't much, but it's down here, and it's getting stronger."
"Then let's see what we can find." Blaine said. Zeke nodded and walked further down the dimly-lit corridor, leading the way and only stopping when the path diverged. They walked in silence, filled with a combination of anxiety and curiosity, silently relieved to find something other than the Flood for a change.
Ten minutes later, the three Spartans were standing outside of a steel door with a small security terminal mounted on the wall beside it and a camera looking down at them. The entire area was drenched in a pale red glow that reminded Blaine of a Covenant ship.
"Open the door." Zeke said, looking up at the camera.
No response came. The door stayed shut.
"We could break it down." Blaine said.
"Or Demon could get us in," Ezekiel answered, pulling the neuro-chip from his helmet and sliding it into a slot on the side of the terminal.
"You and your "stealth" approaches." Blaine sighed, shaking his head. "Do you even remember how to have fun?"
Zeke ignored him, and a moment later, the red light that bathed the doorway changed color to green. The steel frame gave way, allowing the door to slide over, into the wall. Ezekiel grabbed the chip and slid it back into his helmet as the way was opened.
"Well, hello." Landon said.
There were seven of them, three men and four women. All of them but the youngest girl appeared to be in their late twenties and all seven looked healthy, especially given the circumstances. The youngest female looked to be either eighteen or nineteen – Blaine wasn't sure.
"Just go away!" One of the men shouted, and the entire group huddled against the far wall.
"Leave us alone!" This time is was one of the women who spoke up.
"What?" Landon asked. "Why?"
Blaine was confused. They'd seen hostile reactions to Spartans before, but never frightened ones. Those who ever appeared scared of them were that way because they were unsure if the Spartans were Flood-controlled or not…but these people knew better. And yet, they still cringed away from the three members of Zulu Company like the plague.
"You'll get us all killed!" The man shouted. "Just leave! Now!"
Blaine looked around the room, taking it all in. It was a small, steel square, lined with monitors that gave a view into various rooms inside the hotel. In addition, there was a monitor in the corner that did not appear to be connected to the security systems and a stockpile of food, water, and firearms in the opposite corner.
"You're well-stocked." The white-armored Spartan commented. He was about to speak again when he noticed that one of the other men was holding what appeared to be a remote control in his hands.
Landon must have noticed too, because he spoke up quickly. "What were you watching?" He asked. "Hasn't been much on since the Flood took over." There was a lighthearted tone to his voice, apparently trying to comfort the seven frightened people-
It didn't work.
"Just leave, damn it!" The man with the remote yelled. "Please! Go away!"
"Why?" Landon asked. "We're friends-"
"We'll all be killed!" The man was still shouting. "They'll know!"
Now Blaine was confused, but something in his gut told him he didn't like where the conversation was headed. "Who?"
No one answered. The entire group just seemed to shrink tighter, clutching even more to the wall behind them. They looked up at the Spartans, clearly frightened, but of something other than the super-soldiers before them.
"Let us help you." Landon said. "Tell us what's going on."
"Just leave us alone!"
Blaine glanced over at the blue-armored Spartan, who seemed discouraged but not dissuaded from trying again. "Come on," he said. "It doesn't have to-"
"Alright," Zeke growled angrily, stepping forward and activating one of his Energy Swords as he shoved past Landon. "I'm done playing this stupid little game. I'm going to ask you one time: what aren't you telling us?"
"You're going to get us killed!"
"No," Zeke corrected, "you're going to get yourselves killed if you screw with us any longer."
"Zeke," Landon said, "you can't just-"
"I'm bluffing," he growled, his voice only audible through the com-link, "now shut up."
"Oh…right."
The black-armored Spartan exhaled loudly, then activated his second blade. "Don't make me ask you twice!"
No one answered. Instead, the man with the remote pointed it at the monitor and turned it on. Blaine noticed that several in the group shot him dirty looks, and one of the other men even punched him in the shoulder to get his attention before mouthing something to him.
But the man ignored it and, a moment later, the screen flickered to life, revealing the upper half of a raggedy looking young woman, looking directly at the camera. Blaine could see fear and pain in her eyes, and there was dried blood in her hair and on her face.
And, more disturbingly, there was a pair of Tank Forms standing directly behind her, holding completely still except for their breathing.
"I have a message for those who have survived." She said, tears in her eyes. "As you know, we have been given our power back. This is a gesture of good faith from the Flood, from the Gravemind."
She glanced backward and one of the Tank Forms growled lowly.
"Five soldiers – UNSC Spartans – are moving from place to place, spreading destruction and pain in their wake. They will have to stop and hide out soon. When they do, if you see them or discover any information about them or their destination, you are to send a distress call. You need not say anything – the call itself will suffice…"
"Finish…it…" The voice was deep, suffocating. Blaine reasoned that it had to be coming from the Pure Forms.
Gravemind.
"From this point on, you are all safe from the Flood. You may leave your homes and carry on your lives as you would, provided that you do not inhibit their plans. Anyone who helps to find these Spartans will be rewarded with a small ship capable of escaping the Earth's orbit and getting into UNSC-controlled space to be picked up." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Anyone caught helping these demons…will be tortured in ways that you cannot imagine. And they and their loved ones will be erased from existence."
The monitor went black as the man pressed the button again.
"Oh shit." Blaine said, breaking the several-second silence that ensued.
"You can say that again." Landon muttered.
"Oh shit." He repeated.
Zeke didn't seem to waver. He just stood there in silence.
Blaine looked at the group. "You called them." It was more of a statement than a question.
The people all looked sheepish, but finally the woman that had shouted first nodded her head silently. "We had no choice." She said, clearly ashamed.
"Uh-huh," Blaine growled. "Clearly."
"They'll be here soon." Landon said. He glanced at the civilians. "When did you contact them?"
After a moment's pause and a hard swallow, the same woman answered, "about four minutes after you stepped in the door."
Blaine and Zeke exchanged glances. The Flood would be on them any minute, if they weren't already here and-
Every light in the room and the entire corridor suddenly died, plunging them into darkness. The seven people in the corner began to yell.
"Shut up, all of you!" Zeke shouted, activating every plasma generator on his armor and bathing the room in blue-white light. "You very well might have done what thousands of blood-thirsty aliens failed to do: doomed us all. Congratulations."
"We have to tell Sam." Landon said.
"That's what I'm doing." Zeke answered. He was silent for a moment, then slammed his fist into the nearest wall. "His damn helmet's off his giant head! How the Hell am I supposed to get in contact with our great and mighty leader when he takes off his freakin' helm?"
"Same way he gets a hold of you," Landon answered.
"Yeah," the black-armored Spartan said. "Time to go pay him a visit in person."
"Agreed," Blaine answered. "Let's get the Hell outta here. The Flood will be on us any minute."
They turned to leave, but were stopped by the sound of someone crying. A moment later, one of the men spoke up.
"You can't leave us here." He said. "We've helped you! They'll kill all of us."
"I don't think you've helped us in the least." Blaine said frankly.
"We showed you the broadcast! We talked to you! You've seen these monsters; you honestly think they'll be lenient with us?" The man's tone made it evident that he already knew the answer without a single doubt in his mind.
"Aw, but you were so trusting of them an hour ago." Blaine answered.
"You have to help us." Another man said. "Please."
"Sorry," Zeke growled, "you're on your own."
"Zeke," Landon said, "we can't leave them here."
Blaine rolled his eyes. He knew that Landon was right, but it didn't make it any easier. "Damn it," he said. "Landon's right. We don't have a choice."
Ezekiel groaned in frustration. "Fine," he snarled. "But one false move, and I'm leaving them here to rot."
"Sounds fair to me," Blaine answered.
"Come on," Landon yelled, looking back at them. "You gotta keep up."
The group of civilians grabbed several flashlights from their stockpile, armed themselves and, without another word, they took off down the darkened corridors behind Blaine and Landon, following Ezekiel's light back down the halls. This time, they knew which way they were going and moved much faster, arriving in minutes at the elevator-
"Shit!"
"I forgot," Landon said. "No power-"
"No damned elevator!" Blaine finished. The doors were sealed shut.
"You guys look around for the stairs." Zeke said. "I'll go find Sam."
Blaine nodded, knowing what he was about to do. "Good luck," he said.
Ezekiel nodded, taking his swords and cutting straight through the low-grade steel that made up the elevator doors. When he'd cut a sufficient hole, he kicked it in and stepped into the elevator that had been waiting there.
"Wall-jumping again?" Landon asked. "Didn't that idea work really poorly for you last time?"
"Last time," Zeke answered bitterly as he cut through the roof of the metal box, "I was seriously injured and trying to carry the unconscious form of a two-ton Spartan on my back while doing so."
"Fair," Landon conceded.
"Come on," Blaine said. "We gotta go." He looked once more to Zeke before the Spartan inevitably vanished. "Tell Sam we'll meet him outside. Stay sharp."
"You too."
With that, he vanished into the shaft.
Blaine switched his visor to night-vision and glanced at the group behind them. "Stay behind us. Follow our footsteps. We'll be out shortly."
Ezekiel reached the second floor in no time and with an ease that seemed positively wrong after how difficult his last attempt at bouncing his way up an elevator shaft had been. Now though, with no injuries, no added weight, and the bonus of even a little practice in more intense gravity, it was an absolute cakewalk. He reached the closed doors to the second floor and cut a large hole in them before tearing through and racing to the room that Stephanie had been staying in.
On the way, Demon spoke for the first time since before they'd found the civilians. "This, I have to admit, I didn't see coming."
"No kidding," Zeke answered. The implications had hit him the moment he'd watched the broadcast, but he'd forced them out until now. "He knows everything. I'm sure if he's cut the power, then he already got the footage from the cameras. He heard us all talking."
"That's the one piece of good news." Demon said. "I went back and looked over Samuel's little meeting the lobby. Lucky for you, he never once mentioned the NOVA warheads or our next destination."
Zeke stopped cold in the middle of the hall. "Seriously?" he asked, dumbfounded. He tried to think back to the meeting, but could only remember bits and pieces. The only recent talk he could remember with any clarity was their private chat that had happened after.
"Lucky break," the AI answered.
Ezekiel grinned, laughing quietly. "Wow," he said, taking off again and forcing the thoughts away. It was good news, but it wasn't of any use to him now. He passed room after room, rounded a corner and saw the number "221" engraved on a door to his left. Seconds later, he found "213", closed and locked.
The finished wooden door, even with a reinforced frame, gave way in an instant-
"Sam?" he asked.
The room was empty. The large windows to the right were shattered. The balcony was covered in the remains of Flood Pure Forms. The wall to the next wall had been completely torn down.
"Sam!" He shouted, opening a communications channel. "Stephanie!"
"Zeke!" The voice was Samuel's. "Thank God! Where have you guys been?"
"The basement," he answered, "trying to call you! You're gonna love this: Gravemind has decided to broadcast us-"
"As demons," Samuel finished. "Yeah, Gael picked up the frequency and had us turn on the monitor. I just wanna know how he found us here."
"There were people downstairs." Zeke answered. "They sent out a distress call."
"That explains it."
"Blaine and Landon are leading them to the staircase and they're going to meet us outside. Where are you?"
"We're on the fifth floor!" Samuel answered, and Ezekiel heard the roar of a Shotgun. "Miedema is cloaked and floating around, staying out of sight. He's going to pick us all up when we get to the roof. We've got less than forty minutes before the satellites are above us and able to spot the Phantom. We have to get out of here and hide again before that."
"Oh, Hell, Sam!" he shouted. "How the Hell are we supposed to do that?"
"If you figure that out, you let me know!" There was a pause, and Zeke heard the Fuel Rod Cannon going off. "Make sure they know to meet us at the roof. We'll hold out for now."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, we'll be fine. Just go!"
"Consider it done."
Ezekiel turned around just in time to feel the Tank Form's hulking forearm crash into his abdomen, throwing him into the air and letting his body roll until he was suddenly lying on the balcony, facing the night sky.
"Son of a bitch," he growled, standing up to see a dozen of the creatures in the room with him. He concluded that they must have come into the room in another form and transformed in relative silence behind him – that was the only way they could have gotten the jump on him. "You're gonna wish you hadn't done that." He said. "I'm gonna slice you into-"
CRASH!
He was stopped as a large, clawed tentacle surged up through the balcony by his feet, gripping his left ankle and yanking him straight down through the floor before pulling him through the first story wall and flinging him into the lobby like a ragdoll.
"We got…Juggernauts," Zeke said calmly into the team's link, spitting blood onto his visor and feeling the ache in his whole body as his HUD blared incessantly. "The game just got a little more interesting."
"The roof is just up those stairs!" Samuel was paving the way through the narrow halls, avoiding the open doors on either side, and blasting through the Pure Forms that had gathered in their path. "We're almost there."
"Do you think they'll be able to meet us?" Stephanie asked, watching behind them as the undead periodically emerged from doors they'd passed. "We've barely able to make it, and we were on the third floor before most of them were inside."
Samuel breathed hard, trying not to think about it. He had to believe they'd make it, and a part of him truly did. But there was also a part of him that had no choice but to acknowledge the sheer number of things they'd seen. There were Tank Forms everywhere, and those little spiders had climbed the walls in any of the larger rooms and converted into Ranged Forms, ready to skewer anything that wandered into view. Add to that the Juggernauts-
The wall on his right side suddenly exploded as a Tank Form charged out of it, crashing into Samuel and taking him clean through the opposite wall. They toppled to the floor and he felt his shoulder dislocate as the thing on top of him reared back with its giant limbs-
The weight on his chest vanished as Stephanie grabbed the monster under its arms and lifted – actually lifted – it up and off of the brown-armored Spartan. With a yell that told Sam just how much strain she was putting on herself, she spun to the side and half threw, half rolled the creature through the door-sized windows and off the balcony.
She reached a hand down to help Samuel up, which he graciously took. "Thanks," he said, still regaining his breath.
"Anytime," she answered.
Landon could hear the howls and shrieks of the undead in the basement all around them. They hadn't made but a little less than eighty feet since Zeke had disappeared; too much had been around to stop them. First an ambush had come from one side before the Spartans even realized the Flood were in the basement with them. That attack alone had claimed the lives of four of the seven civilians, two males and two females.
Less than forty seconds after the initial rush of Combat Forms with Assault Rifles and Battle Rifles had been dealt with, four of the spider-looking Pure Forms had come seemingly out of nowhere and pounced one of the remaining men. Landon had succeeding in clearing them out, but the damage had been done. He was gone.
Now, with only two of the survivors remaining, armed with a pair of pistols and a Battle Rifle, they'd changed their formation. Blaine led the way, swinging the Gravity Hammer at the slightest hint of trouble. Behind him, the two girls stayed close, waving their flashlights and trying to stay alert. And, behind them, Landon had his shields up and a Shotgun pointed at the darkness that followed them.
"How we looking back there?" Blaine asked.
Landon shrugged even though the other Spartan wasn't looking back to see him. "Okay so far," he answered. "Tell me we're close."
"We're close." Blaine said.
"How close?" One of the women asked.
"Close," Blaine growled, clearly not enjoying being questioned. "We'll be there in-"
One of the women began to scream uncontrollably. Landon turned-
Something sharp shot clean through his left arm, lodging itself there, and he could feel something tugging on it. He let out a shout of his own and turned in the direction the shot came from, the way he was being pulled.
"What the Hell?" He shouted, pointing the Shotgun with one hand.
Ten meters away, in the middle of another hall, was what appeared to be a kind of Combat Form. The undead stood roughly the same height as all the others, but it had not been a human, Brute, or Sangheili in any past life. It was limber, thin, and the tentacle-filled mouth that all Combat Forms shared could be seen in what looked like a long, extended maw that the alien had already had. And that wasn't even the scary part.
The worst part about the creature was that, instead of having one "standard" limb like most Combat Forms did and a set of tentacles, this one had two long, loose tentacles in total, one coming from each shoulder. One of them only stretched a couple of feet, ending in a single sharp point that reminded the Spartan of something, though he couldn't put his finger on just what it was.
The other tentacle had stretched the entire length of the hall and stabbed Landon in the arm, piercing straight through his shields, armor, skin and bone.
Without another thought or care to what it was, Landon opened fire with the Shotgun, tearing the undead form apart even at a distance. He felt he gun kick in his hand but ignored it, firing again and again until the creature hit the ground and stopped twitching. Then he pulled the spike from his arm, gritting his teeth as his armor automatically injected biofoam into the wound.
"You okay?" Blaine asked.
Landon nodded, breathing heavily. He turned to see the other Spartan picking up his Gravity Hammer off the ground at the same time he dropped the Battle Rifle that one of the women had been carrying. In the hall opposite the one Landon had been looking down were two more corpses identical to the one he'd made.
And in between him and Blaine, two human bodies were completely still, bleeding heavily through matching holes in their chests.
"What the Hell are those things?" He asked.
"I'd rather not stick around to find out." Blaine answered, turning and moving toward the staircase again.
It was only when he turned around that Landon saw the hole in his armor, right behind his shoulder. There was a mix of blood and fluids from his mechanical pieces, and the biofoam was already sealing the injury.
"One got you too?" Landon asked.
Blaine nodded, stopping only for a moment. "Bastard caught me when I tried to help the girl."
"You okay?"
The white-armored Spartan shrugged. "HUD isn't beeping at me, so I must be fine." He paused. "Let's get the Hell outta here."
"Sam!" Zeke shouted into his helmet. "I just want you to know: if I die here, I'm gonna be really, really pissed off!" He got the words out just as another Juggernaut took a swing at him with one of its giant limbs-
Ezekiel ducked low and all but felt the tentacle cut the air just above his head.
A moment later, the leader's voice echoed in his helm. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the freakin' lobby, getting my ass kicked!" He risked a glance around the room as the Juggernaut seemed to contemplate its next move. But Ezekiel knew better: the Flood had no reason to contemplate. Gravemind had their moves planned for them. If they were waiting, it was only to further their own ends.
He felt the floor behind him shudder as the Tank dropped from the wall to his left, having just changed forms from a Ranged Form. The swing that came next was expected, and Ezekiel easily dodged to the left, turning around to-
CRASH!
"Bastards!" he shouted as he felt his body soar through the open lobby. The Juggernaut had managed to hit him again, this time at the base of his spine. He hit the wall near the staircase leading to the basement and fell to the floor in a heap.
"Need some help?" Blaine was suddenly beside him, lifting him up by his arm.
"Thanks for that," he answered. Then he saw the hole in Landon's arm and the blood on Blaine's shoulder. They both looked like Hell. "What happened to you guys? Where are the others?"
"New Flood Form," Landon answered, "and they're dead."
Zeke winced as he felt biofoam being applied to his back. "Win some, lose some," he growled, looking around at the monsters that were quickly closing in on them. There were eight Juggernauts, fifteen Pure Forms of all kinds, and six unarmed Combat Forms spread across the lobby, all intent on ending their lives.
"So," Blaine said, "care to make a run for the door?"
Ezekiel scowled. "Can't," he said. "Samuel wants us to meet him for extraction on the roof."
"You're shitting me." Landon said.
Zeke shook his head. "Nope."
"This ought to be fun." Blaine said, raising the hammer. "So, I'll take four Juggernauts. You each take two."
"Go to Hell," Ezekiel laughed. "I'll take four. You take two."
"You couldn't even take one." Blaine mocked.
"Lucky shot." The Spartan paused. "Demon, Stim-Pack."
"Give the biofoam a minute," the AI answered, "then you'll get your adrenaline."
"Damn it, you digital pain-in-the-ass, give me my shot so that I can live long enough for the biofoam to serve a purpose!"
"Fine," the AI answered, conceding much quicker than usual. Zeke felt the shot in his neck and waited for the effects to take hold. It wouldn't be long; a few moments and he should start feeling the pain in his body to dull and fade away.
"So…how we gonna do this?" Landon asked.
"Same way we always do," Blaine answered, "kill everything in the room that doesn't look like us." He looked at Zeke. "You drugged yet?"
"Oh yeah," he answered, twisting back and cracking his neck. "Let's do it."
Author's Notes: I intend to get the end of this fight out ASAP. Expect it to possibly be a slightly shorter-than-usual chapter and then expect the next one to be back to normal length. Just a heads-up. :)
Thanks all!