Chapter 20
The strong scent of coffee reached Caitrin's nose and she inhaled deeply, a ritual she was becoming well versed in. She let out a gentle coo and opened her eyes to see Morcant sitting in the room's only chair. He was smiling, watching her with a look in his eyes that told her how much he enjoyed the moment.
Caitrin rarely slept on her stomach, but she found it unusually comfortable in the soft bed. "Hey," she said softy.
"Hey." Morcant placed his elbow on the left arm of the chair and dropped his head to rest it on his fist. If anything, his smile was wider.
Letting out a moan, Caitrin propped herself up on her elbows and managed to turn over on her side, facing her husband. The covers felt warm, shielding her otherwise naked body underneath, and she smiled back at Morcant. "What?" she laughed.
Morcant made an expression full of innocence. "Oh, nothing." He seemed to squirm in his seat, his plush robe making an odd squeak against the chair's fabric. "I could watch you lie there for hours."
"So I can go back to sleep?" Caitrin asked with a raised eyebrow, teasing him.
Sighing, Morcant shook his head minutely. "We have a lot to do. We need to get a hold of Mahlon to tell her the cavalry is coming."
"A fleet of UNSC ships arriving in system would freak everyone out." She sat up in bed, keeping the covers close to preserve a lasting warmth. Caitrin massaged her eyes with thumb and forefinger, and she let out another deep breath, bringing her mind fully awake. "When do we head out?"
Morcant shrugged, setting his mug down on an end table. "Maya won't be back for at least a few days, but the sooner the Administrator knows the better." He collected his hands together and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "I figured we take our time to get ready, and then head towards Milanó at dusk."
"Sounds good to me." Caitrin brought her chin up and narrowed her eyes. "So how much time do we have?"
Morcant looked off to the left of the bed where a clock was placed on the nightstand. "Well, it's half past noon now, so we should get moving in six or seven hours."
A smile tugged at the corner of Caitrin's mouth. "So how would you like to fill that time? Cleaning weapons? Gathering supplies?"
Morcant looked down at the floor. "Yeah, we probably should get on that."
Caitrin let out a muffled laugh. "How about we relax for just a little longer," she purred, slowly pulling the sheets off.
Morcant raised his head and his eyes grew wide at the sight of her. "That sounds good to me." He stood up and undid his robe, pooling it at his feet.
When he laid down on the bed with her, Caitrin swooped the covers over the both of them, and the two were lost together in an ocean of fabric.
The gentle rain fell through the forest and landed in the mossy undergrowth as Caitrin and Morcant made their way through the trees under darkened skies. The woody scent of the rainfall made Caitrin smile. She followed her husband down a small hill where old leaves had collected to make the ground very slippery. Morcant turned around and offered a hand to help her down. She graciously accepted and he led her to the safety of a beaten path.
"Keep your eyes open. The entrance should be farther down a ways but my estimates might be off," Morcant said, pulling his gray raincoat's hood forward to ward off the droplets hitting his face.
"Gotcha." Caitrin followed in her husband's wake with an even bigger smile. To her, Morcant had two modes to which he was switching back and forth: the loving spouse and the hardened ONI agent, though sometimes they overlapped, giving her a renewed impression that Morcant had not become a calloused military man.
When they had finally gotten out of bed, they got dressed and prepared for a long few days. Morcant wasn't sure if they would have time to make it to the next safe-house, so he packed enough food and supplies to last for the duration in two backpacks. Caitrin had procured them new matching outfits, hers being a little big but the smallest size in the closet, and she made sure to bring something to shield them from the rain. In an attempt at secrecy, they had yet to use their glowrods, and Caitrin figured if she did end up using hers, then things had gotten worse very quickly.
She was panning her head left and right, looking for something out of place, when Morcant came to a sudden stop. "What is it?" she asked, coming up to his left.
Unmoving as if his feet were stuck in mud, Morcant frowned. "This place. Someone's been here."
Caitrin looked down at the wet path but didn't find anything to indicate recent footsteps. Still, he's the expert. "Are we compromised?" she asked quietly.
Morcant scanned the area with narrowed eyes before moving off to his right. "Let's hope not," he finally answered, waving her along.
He took them nearly 30 meters off the path to arrive in what passed for a drainage ditch. Water was just beginning to fill the lowest portions, but Morcant went ahead and hopped down into the ditch with a splash. Thickets and tree roots extended down the walls of the ditch, but he quickly found the access hatch he was looking for. He parted the earthen vines and pressed his hand against the locking mechanism.
While the tunnels Killian had used to escort Caitrin back to the surface were able to open with a flash of pseudo-motion, Morcant's entrance appeared more archaic, as it lowered into the dirt, rumbling stone against stone.
Caitrin eased down the short slope and stepped into the darkness of the underground tunnel. Morcant quickly followed, closing the hardened door behind him. In the quiet blackness, Caitrin could hear her husband rummaging through his pack. With a gentle click, his glowrod illuminated the dirt tunnel, and Caitrin got her first glimpse of the small, narrow passageway. Morcant had to bend at the waist in order to keep his head from hitting the ceiling, but Caitrin, being a head shorter than he, was able to walk without hindrance.
"My ONI infiltration team found an old hideout that the early revolutionaries had used as a staging ground," Morcant began to explain as he led her down the tunnel. "There we found maps marking supply caches and underground passages that burrowed underneath the Capitol city walls."
Caitrin nodded in comprehension, even though Morcant could not see her response. "They do seem rather . . . old. Even primitive."
"We never actually had to use one," he admitted.
She frowned. "Then how do you know where they end?"
"I don't, but we're limited on options." He sighed and came to a crouching stop. "It would be too risky to try and sneak our way in through the main bridge, so this is our best bet. The Innies secretly roaming the streets will be looking for me, and from what you told me, Palace Security probably has a warrant out for your arrest."
Caitrin shivered at the reminder of her altercation with Yunker. "I trust you know what you're doing. Just promise me that after all this is over, we take a long vacation somewhere closer to home."
Morcant smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Promise."
They ventured on, taking frequent breaks so Morcant's back didn't tighten up too much. After an hour of travel, they came to a large dip in the tunnel with a slope of nearly thirty degrees.
"We must be right under the outer foundations of the wall," Morcant said. He ran his right hand along the edges of the curved walls, and paused when he felt something sharp.
"What is it?" Caitrin asked stepping closer for a better look.
"Detection netting," he answered, flicking the stub of metal with a finger. "The Innies must have burned through this with plasma torches while they bypassed the circuit altogether." He gave Caitrin a flat smile. "Risky, but they sure knew their stuff."
"Hm." Caitrin motioned forward. "Onward then?"
"Yeah, but from here on out we'll have to be as quiet as possible." Morcant started down the slope. "And hope this leads to somewhere secluded."
The sound of running water made Morcant come to a stop, turn off his glowrod, and listen carefully. The last fifty meters of the tunnel sent them on a serpentine route the would bend every ten meters, and now they could hear the end of their run.
Crawling on his hands and knees, Morcant slowly crept toward the roughly circular exit where a soft green light was filtering through cross-hatched metal bars. He stopped half a meter from their exit and peered into the other side, panning his head in every direction. Morcant turned back to Caitrin. "It's a sewer," he whispered.
Great. Just when I get all cleaned up . . . "Are there signs of anyone?"
Morcant's brow furrowed. "Why would anyone want to be down in a sewer?"
"We are here," Caitrin pointed out.
He snorted. "Yeah." Morcant examined the outer edges of the grate that covered the hole and found the stone had already been cut. First he pulled with no result, so he gave a push and nearly fell out into the nasty-looking liquid. He still held on to the false seal and quickly set it down on the ledge that ran down both lengths of the arched walls. "Stay close."
Caitrin nodded and followed her husband out of the tunnel and onto the meter-wide ledge. "Why do I keep running into water that smells like crap?"
Morcant replaced the grated cut-away plug and shrugged. "I think you just have an overly sensitive nose."
Caitrin wanted to laugh but was doing her best to keep her breaths short. Instead, she waved him on to lead her out of the mess.
"Let's get to the surface as soon as possible," he agreed. Keeping one hand on the wall and another out for balance, he marched down to their right, towards the source of the green light.
Caitrin did her best to not dry-heave, and she focused all her effort on not falling into the sewage flowing to her left. "So where do we go once we're topside?" she asked in an attempt at distracting herself from the pungent smell.
"There's an agricultural district on the east side of the city with an old abandoned farmhouse on the northern-most lot. That's where I was suppose to meet up with my contact, had I not been captured by the CLF," he said, coming to halt in front of a cracked, rusty door. He pulled out his silenced SMG and slowly pushed the creaking door halfway open. "Clear."
Caitrin squeezed through the door and found the room beyond nothing more than the base of a stairwell. The tiled walls were caked in mildew and the metal stairs were nearly rusted through. "You take me to the nicest places," she said with a smile.
Morcant was already halfway up the steps when he turned around and mimicked her expression.
Caitrin quickly caught up and helped Morcant push the outer door open. Rain immediately drenched their exposed heads and they pulled up their hoods, securing them. The place they found themselves in was the old, abandoned Northern District Stormwater Treatment Facility, as she found the words labeled on nearly every door, office building, and vehicle she saw in her immediate view.
The gravel underfoot felt loose and varied in size as they both started for the chain-link fence surrounding the facility. Morcant quickly peeled away an already severed section of the fence and led Caitrin out into the dark, wet streets.
Few vehicles were out in the late-night storm and even fewer pedestrians hurried about, seeking shelter wherever they could. But Morcant moved with purpose, and Caitrin kept pace beside him.
As it turned out, the agricultural district wasn't that far of a walk- conveniently, and within an hour of dodging down back alleys and side streets, they had arrived. What was not convenient was the fact that the storm had knocked out the farming sector's power, casting the open fields and randomly placed buildings in near total darkness.
They stopped underneath a covered storefront at the end of a small strip mall of farmer-owned shops, using it as temporary shelter, and it allowed them a few moments without the rain. Across the street was a fenced property with a faded-lettered sign arched over the driveway that read: Applewood Farms. If her sense of direction was worth trusting, she figured this was their destination.
Caitrin looked at her husband and could see something was troubling him. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, sending droplets of water off his hood to land on her face. "I don't like this. Something's wrong."
Eyes darting to the left and right, Caitrin frowned. "Is this not the right place?"
Morcant sighed. "No, Applewood Farms is correct. I just didn't think it would be this out in the open. There's plenty of other places in the city that we could have used, but this," he said, spreading his arms wide, "is a little too exposed."
Caitrin looked up and read the sign of the store they were using for cover. Applewood Market. She turned around and did her best to peer through the dusty window. "Maybe not," she commented, pointing a thumb towards the interior of the empty store. "Looks like this place hasn't seen business for years."
"Maybe," Morcant replied, not sounding convinced. He pulled out the SMG he had hidden under his jacket and clicked off the safety with his thumb. "Stay sharp."
Overhead, lightning flashed in a bluish tint, as they crossed the dirt street and onto the gravel driveway of the farm. Once they were inside the fence, Morcant steered over to the right, using the nearest randomly planted tree as cover for a possible unseen threat. The three-story house sat fairly deep on the property but was built on higher ground to avoid the flooding that was beginning to take effect to the lower portions of the yard. The first story windows were boarded up and the front door had a heavy lock in place, but other than those things meant to keep vandals away, the house looked like it had been abandoned only a few weeks ago. On the surface, Morcant's fears appeared well-founded.
With his back pressed against the trunk, Morcant whispered to Caitrin. "I go first. Then once I'm halfway to the next spot, you follow."
She nodded in comprehension.
"And watch the windows." Morcant set himself once more, trying to time his run till after a burst of lightning hit. A staccato resounded, followed by the strobe effect of the sky, and he was off running to an old pile of wood that had been loosely stacked beside a fallen tree ten meter from the front of the house.
Caitrin kept her gaze fixed on the upper windows of the house, but no shots rang out and no curtains were drawn. Then she was sprinting in her husband's wake, the ground squashing into little odd-shaped puddles underneath her boots. When she reached Morcant's position, she crouched down beside him, breathing heavily.
Without hesitation, he was up and moving again. Morcant swung around to the right side of the house, and waved Caitrin over.
She made the short distance without mishap, but the exposure coupled with her dread of being shot allowed Caitrin to now hear her own heartbeat in her head. It wasn't that she didn't feel safe with her husband leading her like this, but her fear was rooted in his bad feelings about a place he was to use as a sanctuary. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and nodded to Morcant, informing him that she was okay.
He looked at her for a few seconds before securing his weapon behind his back. Morcant then began running his hands along the stony surface of the house's outer wall, searching for something. He came to an abrupt stop at a glossy black stone and gave it a firm push. With little resistance, the stone retracted into the wall. Morcant took a step back and looked up to see multiple, half-meter sized stones jutting out to form hand and foot holds that led up to a second story window. He began to climb.
She didn't have to say it, but Caitrin felt as nervous as she could have without actually screaming. She divided her attention between watching him silently take the hike up the side of the house and sweeping her pistol's line of fire around the yard, ready to give him some form of suppressing fire from below.
When she spared a glance upward, she saw Morcant vanish into the window and figured it was her turn to climb. Despite the rain lashing down, the surface of the stones felt textured and allowed her a firm grip for both hands and boots. She knew that once she was inside the safety of the house, her heart rate would slow and she'd breath easier.
Below her, the lower-most jutting stones started to return to their original place, hidden against the others, and Caitrin tried to quicken her pace. She still had three more holds to go till she could grab for the window sill, but the rate the stones were retracting . . . "Morcant," she hissed, trying to keep her voice low and still keep a firm grip on the second to last hold. "Morcant!"
Whether he couldn't hear her or if he was preoccupied with securing the room, Caitrin was on her own. Her right foot slipped against the stone that disappeared underneath and she quickly pushed herself up with her left leg, straining to reach the window with an outstretched hand. She found the solid window frame with her left hand and held on to it for dear life. The block under her left foot started to shake and Caitrin quickly swung her right arm up and got her elbow to lock over the sill, using her forearm and bicep as a clamp.
With the added weight of her pack and rain-soaked pants, she knew hanging there for an extended period of time was not the best way to test her tired muscles. She leaned forward, into the second story, and straightened her left arm with all her strength. Finally managing to get her upper torso over the lip of the window, she collapsed inside, her pack's contents spilling out on the hardwood floor.
One of the three glowrods she had been carrying took a tumble and the activation switch hit the ground at just the right angle to turn it on. Swearing under her breath, almost inaudible from the shear volume of the rain hitting the roof a story above her, Caitrin got to her hands and knees to follow and switch off the rolling light.
She was about to wrap her wet fingers around the barrel of the glowrod when the beam of light briefly illuminated a moving figure along the back wall. "Morcant?" she called quietly.
The response was a muffled gurgle.
The glowrod rolled to her left and she fumbled to find a decent grip. She quickly brought the light to bear down on the previously known spot where she saw movement, but Morcant wasn't there. She waved the glowrod back and forth till she found something that made her heart cease in her chest.
A dark figure had wrapped his arms around Morcant's throat, locking his head in a sleeper hold, and was starting to bring her husband to his knees. Panic rose up from her stomach, but she was still able to unholster her pistol and aim it at the two men struggling with each other. "Hold it!" she yelled, unable to keep her voice down any longer but managing to aim the tight beam of light at the assailant's face.
The man winced at the blinding light and Morcant used the brief second of disorientation to drop a forceful elbow into the attacker's gut. As the wind was knocked out of the man, he slackened his grip around Morcant's throat and stumbled backward. Morcant quickly brought his other elbow around to strike the man in the face, sending him to the floor with a thud.
She followed the man's fall with both glowrod and pistol . . .
"No, wait, Cait," Morcant quickly said through a wheezing cough. He held up his hand to halt any lethal force she was about to administer.
Knowing he was now under the watchful eye of two, the man started to get up to his hands and knees, keeping his chin close to his chest.
"Don't move," Morcant ordered through clenched teeth, his voice more under control.
Caitrin handed her husband the pistol and widened the beam of her glowrod to encompass the man's dog-like stance.
Then her stomach turned to ice when she saw the back of the man's neck as his head hung in defeat. There, somewhat faded from too many days under different suns, imprinted at the base of his hairline and wrapping around to the right was a modified UNSC crest tattoo. Not like the ones marines get during their first shore-leave, but one with the eagle in full detail, a bone clenched in its beak.
The exact same tattoo Kinnison had. Caitrin's eyes grew wide with shock. "Kinnison?" she breathed.
Lifting his head up with one eye partly closed, trying to pierce the glare of the light, Kinnison's face scrunched up into a frown. "Collin?"
Morcant snorted. "You two know each other?"
Caitrin absently nodded her head, still keeping her eyes on Kinnison. "We were both part of the Skyline Transport Security Detail. What are you doing here?"
Kinnison leaned back, resting on his haunches, and lifted his hands up in surrender. "I could ask you two the same thing, but I'm not the one with the gun." Despite the growing redness on his left cheek, Kinnison turned his face to flint and remained silent, defiant.
"Were you following me?" she demanded.
"Kinda," he said mildly. He swallowed and then lifted his chin. "Though there were times when I wish I could have taken the beltway instead of the tram," Kinnison added, narrowing his eyes.
"What?" Caitrin blurted out, frowning at the odd statement.
"Was the beltway backed up?" Morcant asked curiously, taking a step forward.
Kinnison rotated his head mechanically to face Morcant. "No, it was shut down."
Exhaling loudly, Morcant lowered the pistol and shook his head. "You are my contact?"
Kinnison nodded and slowly stood up straight.
Caitrin watched as the two men stared openly at each other. Then it all clicked. If she was guessing right, she had just witnessed a proper ONI contact challenge. She imagined if Kinnison had given the wrong second response, Morcant would have put him down right then and there. But apparently Kinnison was on their side all along. "Let me get this straight," she began, setting the glowrod on the ground to bounce off the ceiling, giving the room a soft atmosphere. "You knew he was alive?" she asked with a bitter expression while pointing a thumb at her husband.
"It's okay, Cait," Morcant soothed, taking her hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He can explain things now, right?"
Working his jaw experimentally, Kinnison pressed his lips together. "It may not be best to tell you everything."
"Then be discrete, but at least justify your actions," Caitrin said, folding her arms across her chest and feeling less frazzled.
Kinnison seemed to mull over that thought before finally nodding once. "I report to Colonel Ross; he was the one that got me on Emissary. I was there to keep an eye on the Ambassador and his crony, Yunker." He shifted his weight to his right leg. "That stunt he pulled with the Cryo-pod? Well, let's just say it's on a list of growing charges."
"So you were after Thorin and Yunker?" Caitrin asked as she accepted an old creaking chair from Morcant.
"Yeah, but I was under strict orders not to act until I had more proof of their involvement with a possible Insurrectionist faction here on Andvari." He nodded to Morcant. "A task dovetailing to the one you were given but had failed to report back on," he commented with an undertone of remorse. "There's suppose to be another agent I was to link up with, but they were never at the rendezvous points. I assume that person is you?" he asked Caitrin with a furrowed brow.
She shook her head. "Maya Barros is the one you were probably looking for." Caitrin let out a short laugh. "She and I had you pinned as a possible conspirator, but then, at the Palace riot, you were injured."
"Yes," Kinnison replied, rubbing his head where he had been hit. "I knew they were going to ship me back aboard Emissary, so I fled the medical center before they could detain me." He spread his arms wide to encompass the room. "And I've been here ever since, waiting for another member of Section Three."
The sound of the rain began to die down as they all remained silent while Morcant paced back and forth. He eventually came to a stop and crossed the distance to Kinnison with a hand ready to shake. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I've was . . . delayed." He smiled at Caitrin. "But if my wife hadn't come all this way to find me, I'd still be in a cell several hundred feet below ground."
Doing his best to hide the shock from his face, Kinnison let a smile tug at the corner of his lips and shook Morcant's hand with vigor. "I apologize for the altercation earlier." He leaned his head toward Caitrin. "And I've seen your wife under pressure; she's as strong as they come."
Feeling warmth redden her cheeks, Caitrin couldn't help but blush. "I had- have a good example in my husband."
Kinnison smile fully, softening his tough-guy image. "So, shall we continue the investigation where you left off?" he asked Morcant.
Shaking his head while returning the grin, Morcant placed his left hand on Kinnison's shoulder. "Not exactly. We have new mission parameters."
"Oh?" he replied with a raised eyebrow.
"We have our evidence." He looked over at Caitrin. "And we're going to secure a high-profile asset."