]"I see, thank you for that information. Moving on…what can you tell me about Haze?"
"Haze? Hmmm…he's not afraid to take the public eye."
"So he is likes attention?"
"I think you misinterpret my words. He is not afraid to take attention. Like a scapegoat, but then willing. You see, our agents are not supposed to be held responsible for their actions. They have their own ways to prevent that from happening, but sometimes it becomes impossible to deny something. Haze has a knack for throwing systems in disarray. All to Section twenty-five's benefit, of course."
"Right."
Covenant vessels had a raw beauty to them. As warships, they were without a match. Their weapons were light-years better than what the UNSC had to offer and their shields could shrug off attacks that would cripple the largest vessels, while retaliating with lethal efficiency. The When Duty Ends, on the other hand, had their weapons fixed throughout the ship. They had to face the enemy to be able to fight them while the Covenant could unleash their lethal weaponry at all any direction. They were, without a doubt, the perfect tools of war.
To Adrian Wren, their appearance always went coupled with dread and hatred that he could never show to the men and women around him. Everybody knew that, even with the advancements in technology and their tactics, a one-on-one fight with any Covenant ship could easily result in the destruction of the When Duty Ends. The Halberd-Class Destroyer could only take so much punishment before its armour buckled and today, it had most likely reached that limit.
"Second MAC still inoperable," Lieutenant Voerman said. "Damage to internal systems is too great to repair, sir. We're going to need more hardware."
Hardware, or the magic-users down on the surface of Alagaesia. They could repair things without the need for rare or expensive equipment and it would spare them the hardware. They needed to get to the surface for another crucial mission as well, but there was one problem.
There still were two frigates and a carrier between them and the planet, as well as a damaged Destroyer tailing them. Performing a rendezvous in the middle of such a warzone to retrieve one Phantom dropship was more dangerous than committing suicide with a hand grenade, but the tactical benefits were…immense.
"That's too bad," he replied. "We'll look into that once we get planet-side." Keeping up appearances for the crew during times of stress were a crucial part of being a CO. If you couldn't motivate your officers and navigators when they needed to perform, you weren't fit to lead. That was simple. "I'm going to be honest here, our options are limited." Making a low-orbit rendezvous to catch a hijacked Phantom dropship and then escaping with said dropship all while being tailed by Covenant ships was more than just limited; it was practically suicidal. They couldn't even match one enemy cruiser at this rate, let alone a Destroyer, a Carrier and several Frigates. They were in no position to win.
It was the least of his troubles now. Another digital message appeared on his screen, despite the complete isolation that their ship was supposed to be in right now. "GREETINGS RECLAIMER."
Wren swore under his breath as he ignored the desire to kick the console. He typed back, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
"TO PROVIDE ASSISTENCE."
He frowned. "HOW?"
"THE OTHER RECLAIMER MUST REMAIN INTACT."
It wasn't that easy. Spartan zero-zero-seven had been reported as KIA in the fighting. The details were vague, but in the end they wouldn't even matter. With Maine gone, the UNSC ground forces would most likely be destroyed. His death had been reported as of…forty-five minutes ago. That meant he would beyond most forms of medical treatment that could serve to resuscitate him. Luckily, there were…other ways of bringing back the clinically dead. It would cost them a lot, both in materials as time. Recovery would take at least weeks, multiple organs would need to be flash-cloned…it would stress the limits of their abilities.
But it would be worth it. Even a crippled and barely-moving Spartan would be capable of sniping, wetworks, demolition works and boosting morale.
From the moment he had heard about the SS-II project, Captain Wren had been feeling like he had been taking place in something that he would never be able to escape from again. Those who had refused to work with the original SPARTAN-II project had been made to disappear overnight and if he had second thoughts about this, he would most likely be killed off as well. But…he didn't feel comfortable around the Spartan. There was something very wrong with that soldier.
It didn't matter now, he supposed. All that mattered now was finding out how to make a proper rendezvous and get the soldier in a cryo-tube. Mentally-degraded or not, zero-zero-seven was still one of them. The UNSC took care of their own.
"WHAT IS IT TO YOU?" he asked the AI. Gilderien did not look like a Forerunner name to him.
"THE OTHER ONE MUST BE STOPPED."
"WHICH OTHER ONE?"
"ANOTHER LEAF APPROACHES; A VESSEL HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AT THE FAR END OF THE PLANET, A LONG DISTANCE AWAY. IT LIES OUTSIDE THE DETECTING RANGE OF THE JIRALHANAE."
Another vessel? "IS IT HUMAN?" And how did this AI know the name of the Covenant races?
"SANGHEILI."
A Sangheili ship, here? It had to be Separatists…it explained the occasional ghost signatures that he had been seeing occasionally, but…why here? Was it the Forerunner cache? If they were indeed Separatists, he could use new tactics and change the situation. He was not willing to bet the lives of his crew on it though. "HOW WILL YOU ASSIST?"
"I SHALL PERFORM A DISTRACTION FOR YOU TO COLLECT THE RECLAIMER."
Wren gritted his teeth. The annoying tendencies of what had to be an AI were truly aggravating. "He had ruled out the idea of a hacker long ago, but it was still hard to understand that an advanced creation like this would be so…unhelpful. "HOW?"
A ping appeared on his radar, right on the boundary of what it could detect. Too far away for his equipment to pin down. The location of the Sangheili ship?
"THE SANGHEILI VESSEL HAS BECOME KNOWN TO THE JIRALHANAE VESSELS AS TWO POINT THREE SECONDS AGO. IT IS SUGGESTED THAT YOU MOVE WITH HASTE."
"Sir," one of his navigators cried, "unknown contact on extreme range."
"Ignore it," the Captain immediately replied. Now that the rules and odds were against him once more, it was time to cheat. To change the rules and odds. Their priorities were simple, their tactics were not. He was not one to look a given horse in the mouth and if this AI was somehow capable of revealing the Separatist ship to the Brutes and turn it into one big bullseye, he would take it. "Bring us around to course nine-two-zero to eight-two-two and reduce engine capacity to fifty percent. No need to alarm them."
As the navigators jumped to their tasks, he initiated the communications channel to soldiers who had commandeered the stolen Phantom. It did not look like the AI wanted to say anything more. s "This is Captain Wren, what's your status, over?"
The reply didn't take long. "This is Second Lieutenant Riley, sir. We are leaving the atmosphere in twenty seconds, but we've got Seraphs on our tail. They're asking for codes we don't have, sir."
During the last months of the Human-Covenant War, multiple infiltrations and hijacks had been performed by specialized teams. But those operations had only been successful because of tight schedules and AI support. The When Duty Ends did not have AI Support. Which made Gilderien even more baffling. "Stall them. We'll send interceptors to engage, Wren out." He took a deep breath and then called, "I want our remaining Longsword Escort suited up and ready to go ten minutes ago!"
"Sir, we have a critical time period before recovery becomes impossible for the Spartan. If we can't make it…"
The pilot seemed to disagree, as he could be heard yelling, "We'll make it!"
Wren could appreciate motivated personnel. If they could get the Spartan into cryo, there might still be a chance for him. That was a big "might" though. Their medical personnel were terribly understaffed and they might have to…
…improvise. Magic was incapable of resurrecting the dead, that was what queen Islanzadí had told him. But combined with UNSC technology…that "when" might turn into a different word. If they could get their hands on a powerful magic-user, they would be that much closer to victory.
"Support is on the way, hang on tight."
Soon the ramifications of the AI's actions become noticeable. Several Covenant vessels left the surface of the planet to move towards the Separatist vessel that had to lie in dark space. It provided them with an opportunity, but their timing had to be perfect.
Of course, the UNSC hadn't made Wren a Captain just because they felt like it. Timing was one of his specialties. "Course correction seven-three-zero at that last one. Prep the MAC and spin up Archer pods X through Z."
The crewmembers hurried to perform their tasks, making it possible for Wren to keep an eye on the hijacked Phantom. Their remaining Longsword Interceptors had already deployed and were racing towards the planet to kill the Seraph Fighters that were chasing after the Phantom. He had always hated those ships; while they might not hold up much to the ability of UNSC pilots, they packed a lot of punch and could wipe out an army within minutes using their plasma charges. They were a testimony to the hardship that mankind had suffered throughout the war.
So when the ace pilots of the When Duty Ends raced towards the teardrop-shaped vessels, Wren felt a grim sense of satisfaction. Their training had always been superior to that of the Covenant. Skillful piloting made up for the difference in tech and firepower. In fighter-based combat, the UNSC had always been able to hold their own.
With the immediate threat out of the way, he was free to think about what he had just experienced. It had to be an outdated Forerunner AI that kept spamming his channels, but apparently there was also another one present on this world. Another AI that, according to this one, had to be stopped. Stopped from doing what?
He would concentrate on that later. He calculated the maximum speed of the Destroyer when only traveling at a third of its capacity and placed a waypoint on the map to guide the Phantom to it. "Drop our engine capacity to thirty-three percent. Phantom Dropship, this is Captain Wren. What's your ETA?"
"At our current speed, we'll hit the Duty in under sixty seconds-"
A different waypoint it would be.
"-but it looks like we've got company. Those 'Swords you sent attracted some big fish, Captain."
Wren could see it. That enemy Destroyer and Frigate were moving away from the surface of the planet, heading straight for the Duty. A collision course, no less. "Turn this tub around. Set a course back to the asteroid field and prepare to open up hangar bay Two for a hot landing." He then opened up the communications channel, ship-wide, before giving his next order. "All medical personnel, this is Captain Wren. Prep for immediate surgery and cryo-stabilizing and take your gear to the second hangar bay. Do not, I repeat do not enter the bay until the Dropship has touched down. Wren out."
He couldn't risk a stray shot taking out all his medics at once. A group of ODST's would be heading down there first to secure the captured ship and make sure it was a hundred percent green.
The Captain calculated a new course and placed a second waypoint on the map. The ship was slowly turning and presenting its side to the incoming dropship, but they weren't turning fast enough. "Detonate port emergency thrusters on my command."
"Sir."
All what was left was waiting. Waiting a minute for a captured Phantom with two covenant warships on rapid approach wasn't one of his favorite ways to spent time. His crew had nerves of steel, but even they wouldn't like these odds. They had strained the Duty to her limits already and a direct engagement with any enemy vessel out in the open could only end in disaster.
If only they could perform the same Slipspace jumps as the Covenant could.
Finally, when the Dropship was four seconds out, he called, "Seal hangar bay two!" Two seconds later he added, "detonate thrusters."
An explosion tremored through the ship and the When Duty Ends was blasted ninety degrees to its left, nearly aligning it with the asteroid field around the moon.
"Engines at three-hundred percent. Get us out of here, Lieutenant."
"Sir!"
His timing had been good enough. The Phantom had slipped inside just before the hangar bay-doors had closed and he had won several precious seconds.
The ODST were probably making their way to the hijacked dropship now. "All medical personnel, be advised; you can now enter the second hangar bay."
Now here was hoping that his ground forces could knock down the Covenant AA guns. He had the fullest confidence in their capability, but they were in way over their heads. There was something hostile down there on the surface of Alagaesia and it sure as hell wasn't any magic-user or alien.
19:22 local time
The present members of the newly-forged organization had finally come to terms with their new position in the loosely-organized army that had been left in the wake of the devastating Covenant attacks. The weapons had been divided, the gear had been handed out and several heated tactically-placed bonfires had been heated up. The air of the evening had grown considerably cold up here in the mountains and even the gathered elves were starting to feel the bite of the lack of stability, structure and living creatures around them.
Arya, who had spent decades traveling around the Beors and Surda, did not consider it that much of an issue. But the others did. She could hear them conversing, out in another camp. They were in despair, driven to misery by the stress and pain and loss. She wished she could help them. Do something to alleviate their pain. But she was not the monarch; her mother was. And it was the task of the monarch to stand by her people in times of need.
Arya lowered her head and sighed. Even the members of the supposed tight Section twenty-six had split up for tonight, finally taking the time to nurse their wounds and face their feelings. At least…most of them did. The rest respected their privacy and left them be. Orik and Gahrzvog were among the ones who had not taken terrible losses in the course of the war. Compared to others, they were fine.
The others…were not so fine. Even the Starborn soldiers had finally broken under the stress and pain of nonstop war, though they had their own ways of showing it. Ways that were…underdeveloped at best. For all their abilities and wisdom, they were still like children when it came to facing themselves. Though Arya did not consider herself an expert in dealing with traumatic experiences, she had had decades worth of experience in learning how her own mind worked. She knew her emotions and she knew how to control them. It was a form of discipline that the Starborn did not seem to possess like that. They did know how to control their emotions, but they did not know how to deal with them. In that they were like children to her.
Wallcroft had walked away without saying anything besides an introverted mutter about sentry-duty. Hudson had laid out his sleeping bag and gone to sleep with no covering and his rifle lying beside him. Both of them were not older than three decades and Arya doubted whether they had fully come to terms with what they did.
At least they performed actions to keep themselves together. Others did not. Eragon was starting to doubt his place in this world and there was only so much doubt that he could feel before he would lose hope. That could not happen and she knew it, but what she did not know was how to prevent this all from breaking apart. Murtagh was with him now, perhaps reconciling, perhaps just sharing his stories.
A hundred years of living in Alagaesia and there was naught she could to help those around her now. She could only watch as the morale of all her allies just…faded away.
Daenlith and the Shade –Raia- had both taken place at a bonfire at the far corner of their camp. No…that was not right. Daenlith had been sitting there since Section had been formed and the bonfire had been constructed near her to keep her from freezing to death in the cold night that was to come. And though Raia had claimed to want to keep an eye on the Houseless' health, she had taken place there to stay away from all others as well. And neither of them had spoken a single word since they had come here.
Even when Arya had taken place at their side to keep both of them in her sight, they had not acknowledged her presence. Only Yaele seemed to understand what it took to keep up hopes. She was traveling between the various split-up groups, helping make food, suggest uses for equipment and generally being kind.
Too few people displayed kindness these days.
"Over several hours, the Agent shall return," Arya softly spoke to the two silent ladies. "Our first assignment shall take place in this very night. You should prepare yourselves."
They did not reply. What reason did they have to? They had been forcibly recruited and they had no reason left to fight. Whatever had happened to Daenlith had left her scarred and mute, without any semblance of faith or a will to fight. It could not just be the scarring; they did not deform her like scars created by a hewing sword or crushing rocks. Perhaps it was only idle hope to her, but she was nowhere near unsightly to look at. Just different.
Arya would not mention it to her. Some things were better left unspoken.
"Do you not require sleep?" she asked Raia, hoping that both of them would be willing to bury their differences when the time came.
After a few moments of silence, the Shade gave her reply. "Sometimes."
With nothing else to say besides the obvious, Arya fell silent. Times like these frustrated her immensely; was there nothing she could do at all?
An hour passed, then two. She utilized the spare time she had by attempting to calm her thoughts and recover the energy she had lost in the past few, hectic days. Occasionally, Murtagh or Yaele would pass by with food or water. Once Murtagh shared a concern of his with her; that ships were taking off and landing, as if secret operations were being staged, because the UNSC had said that there was no reason for them to use their ships.
She made no attempt to feign her disinterest in that matter. It was not their position to doubt the actions of their allies, no matter what they had been told. In sustaining the vulnerable resistance movement that they had taken in, the Starborn leaders had a right to decide how to fight this war. It was their ancient foe after all, and not of the races of Alagaesia.
Another hour passed before the first sign of their missions showed up, in the form of another Agent. He approached their position from a dark patch of rocks, from below. Raia sensed him too, though Daenlith did not stir.
This was going to become complicated.
"Alright people," the man said as he climbed up the rocky path. Despite him being human, he still managed to navigate the treacherous path without incident. His voice was different. "Break's over, time to move out. I hope you gathered your weapons and equipment, 'cause this is going to become difficult without some proper planning."
"Who are you?" Arya demanded as the man reached their camp, ready to use magic within a moment's notice. If her time with these people had taught her one thing, it was that she could not simply trust strangers who showed up at the border of the camp.
"Call me Reaper."
"How do we know you're with us?"
"Suspicion. Good. Give me the challenge then."
She halted. "What?"
He halted as well. "The challenge. Code-words. You challenge me, I respond."
"I am not sure I follow."
"Did ehm…did the Agent before me give you a code-word before he left?"
"No."
"Dick. Fine, we'll get to that later. You're Arya, right? The princess?"
"Just a soldier now."
"Good! Set your suspicion aside for now, 'cause I got something to tell you all."
Arya did not budge. "I will need proof."
"Look, do you know anyone else who wears a suit like this?"
"Outside your group-"
"Didn't think so. You see I'm armed; if I wanted you dead, you would already be. Come on, we'll get the group together."
Ayra had heard people claim such things before, but she never thought that such sayings could actually be backed up. In her current state though…considering the range of the weapons of these soldiers, he might actually be capable of taking their lives without them ever noticing it.
She needed to do better. Be sharper; her allies would not be the only ones to assault them from range.
This "Reaper" as he called himself pressed deeper into their camp, gathering the remaining members of their group as he went along. Arya kept a close eye on him, unwilling to risk the small chance that his cause was traitorous. The outsiders might have forced them all together, but she would not lose anyone else. They all had a responsibility to each other and it was time that she accepted hers too.
Raia prodded Hudson with her toe and backed off as the soldier shot upright with his pistol in his hand. She then helped him upright. Wallcroft came sliding down a rocky path with his rifle at the ready, but he did not question Reaper either.
When everybody had been roughly woken or otherwise brought to the attention of their visitor, Reaper explained the cause for his presence. Actually he just placed down a map on the ground and seemed to think that would suffice. Without any bonfires around his chosen spot.
"So I take it we got our first mission?" Wallcroft asked.
"In the darkness even?" Orik said. "We'll be blind as bats!"
Arya took offense at that one. The little dwarves might not be capable of seeing when there was no light, but the elves were. She could see the map and what was drawn on it, after all.
How sharp were the eyes of the Starborn? Were they the same as the humans on Alagaesia? If so, they could not be efficient at fighting in the darkness.
As they clearly had some successful operations in the night, their sight had to be sharper.
"We'll get to that. Your assignment first. It looks like the Covenant is planning on staying here for a while –they've already set up one of their Mantis installations."
Both Hudson as Wallcroft made sounds of frustration, but there was no response from any of the races. That had to mean trouble.
"Mantis whats?" Gahrzvog asked with his rumbling voice. "The invaders appointed their king?"
Though that could not be what Reaper meant, it was still an interesting question. Did the Covenant have a monarchy? Who led them? Could the UNSC not send Spartan and several soldiers to murder that leader?
"Negative," the Agent replied. "Marines, gather the gear and prep for outfitting."
"I'm an ODST," Wallcroft said, not without frustration.
"Just do it." When the two soldiers had taken their leave, he continued. "A type-27 Mantis Installation is a massive weapon on three legs, capable of taking down ships from great distances. But only ships, as it's mounted and incapable of aiming at the ground."
"So that's why we can't use the dragons?" Murtagh asked.
"Not really; any Banshee or Seraph could kill a dragon. But the Mantis is why we can't get our own air-support in that region."
Eragon crossed his arms. "What about those big ships? Aren't they more dangerous?"
"They've turned their attention to the forests at the north and the region beyond. There's only one CRS-Class cruiser in low orbit above Alagaesia and we will get to that in later operations."
The forests? But Du Weldenvarden was still being evacuated! Where would her people go? And why would the Covenant focus on the other lands? What the sought lay here, did it not?
"Now, a taskforce is dispatched to retrieve a stranded gunship. We get that operational, we have good fire-support. But that Mantis will nail anything that gets within a dozen miles radius."
"Point it on the map," Yaele said. "They won't keep it."
"Here," Reaper said, pointing to an area above Surda, "in this town. Furnost, I believe. It's hidden in the forest, so we can't ID it. Your mission is to infiltrate the forest, avoid being spotted by Covenant patrols and sabotage that gun. Escaping alive is also important."
So their first mission was sabotage? They were ill suited for infiltration though; how would they get close to that forest? How would they avoid patrols and how were they going to destroy something large enough to threaten the ships of the UNSC? There were too many parts to this plan that did not make sense.
Hudson and Wallcroft returned in the meantime, both of them carrying bags with weapons and equipment. "I believe that Orik had the M90?" The ODST joked.
"You keep stating that!" Orik replied, heatedly pointing a finger at the soldier. "Show me that weapon of yours or I will club you over the head!"
"Sure." Wallcroft dug around in one of the bags and produced a gun that looked familiar to Arya. She had seen it used in the war before, cutting down the Brutes with single shots. It also had a powerful kick to it. "Here you go."
He flung the weapon at Orik, who barely managed to catch it before it slammed into his face. It had some weight behind it though, as he staggered from the impact. "By my beard, this looks beautiful."
"It's a fine piece of work," Hudson told him. "You point it the direction of trouble and the trouble simply disappears."
"Can we please focus on the mission?" Reaper asked. "Taking out the Mantis has secondary effects. We can get an UAV in the air to track the Covenant troops or take out single targets with mounted Gauss weapons once it's gone, but until then, stealth is key. There is only one extraction available once the installation's gone and until then, there will be no support from us."
"We get it," Hudson said. "We'll formulate our own strategy to take that thing out. Supporting gear?"
"Silencers, five thermal ops and a satchel of C12 explosives. Transport is a go in twenty nikes, get ready."
After that brief exchange, the Agent turned around and walked away, leaving the members of Section twenty-six to gear up and prepare for the mission.
"I have questions," Gahrzvog growled.
"Go ahead," Wallcroft replied as he unfolded the bags and placed the weapons in clear sight. Hudson set up a small, purple light to illuminate their gear for the rest to see.
"There are any words that do not make sense to me. I can adapt when needed…but how do we escape that place once we destroy their weapon?"
"I take it S25 will have something ready for us. Civilian hogs or Hornets."
"And how do we destroy this weapon?"
The ODST grabbed the small package he had received from the Agent and showed it to his new teammates. "This is called C-12. It's a powerful explosive. If we place it at a weak point in the Mantis, there'll be a hell of a fireworks. Brilliant stuff."
"And you know this weak point?" Yaele asked him.
Hudson nodded. "Back on Earth, we destroyed several of the things to punch through the Covenant's defensive line. I'll show you how it's done when the time comes."
"So the Covenant was on Earth, even?" Arya enquired. She had not known that the war had raged on that far.
"Wait, Earth?" Orik huffed. "Is that the name of another planet of yours?"
"Not another planet, the planet," Wallcroft calmly collected him. He had taken his helmet off after his sentry-duty and the purple light oddly accentuated his shaven hair and dark stubbles. "Earth is our homeworld. The world where mankind evolved. If our theories are right, humanity here in Alagaesia originated from Earth too."
"Theories? What theories?" Eragon asked.
They did not respond to him. "During the last months of the war, the Covenant found Earth. Punched through our defenses and landed…hundreds of thousands of troops on the surface. Glassed the poles, nearly wrecked an entire continent. They were looking for an artefact, you see? Anyway, I think we'll need to determine the rear guard."
Arya had difficulty processing the sudden change of topic, but Gahrzvog did not. "Your aim is better than ours," the kull growled. "Which weapons do you take?"
"The Sniper Rifle," Wallcroft said as he grabbed the longest weapon. "If you don't mind, I'll leave the close combat to you guys and give you good covering."
"Before we continue, are there more questions?" Hudson proposed. "Speak up if you don't understand."
"Silencers?" Murtagh asked. "What am I supposed to think about?"
The ODST reached for a small, tubular object and showed it to the group. "Guns are loud. We all know that. If we encounter an enemy patrol and we can't move around them, we will have to take them out without their entire army realizing that we are trying to sneak into their camp. There enters the silencer or, as people call it, the suppressor."
"So it makes the sound of the gunshot less loud?" Eragon tried.
"Good enough. It's not perfect and if there's a guy standing right next to you while you fire, they will hear it. But if we time it correctly…"
Yaele reached for the silencer. "We can kill entire groups without them ever hearing us?"
"Ten points. Combined with magic and a marksman, we can tag and kill enemy patrols without getting spotted, just like last time."
"More questions?" Hudson continued.
"Thermal ops?" Raia said with a sarcastic voice. "I can't envision that silencing our weapons."
"Thermal ops are goggles –err…glasses…that show you the enemy's heat-signature. Here, try 'em on." He handed the Shade something that looked like a combination of the silencer and the scope on top of their guns. It did fit around the top of her head, whereupon she slid the item to her eyes. The contraption hid her eyes from view and seemed to place a set of orange shards of glass or crystal in front of them. Did it enhance eyesight?
"What do you see?" Hudson urged her.
Raia hesitated before she answered. "Colours…everything is dark blue…but people are lit up. Red, yellow…some green…"
A device that pointed out where living beings where? How had they ever designed that?
"Thermal enhancement means that you can see the heat inside of the bodies of those around you. Up to a range of…guess a hundred feet…it'll show you where living creatures stand or move. Doesn't work on Grunts though."
Raia passed the Thermal ops to Eragon, who tried them on as well. "Why not?"
"Because Grunts don't breathe the same air we do. They carry their own and that air is very, very cold. So instead of appearing like red, or warm, they appear…"
"Blue?" Eragon said as he looked around. "Fire is red…the ground is dark. So cold is dark-blue?"
"Yep. We have five of these things, so I suppose the people who can't see with elf-eyes get one. Murtagh, Orik…sorry 'Vog, your head is too bloated."
Gahrzvog growled with annoyance, but kept his remarks to himself.
"Wallcroft will be sniping, so he needs one too. I'll be the point-man, so I need one too. Raia, you need one?"
The Shade shrugged. "My eyes are not as keen as those of the elves. I shall take it."
"Good."
Arya felt relieved that the two Starborn were taking this seriously. She had feared that they would be blunt or worse, dismissive of their responsibilities. Was that the reason they had been chosen for this group? Because, for all their faults, they were still kind and honest with the rest of the "natives". She could appreciate that.
"Now that's taken care off, here comes the fun part. Weapons."
"I'll have this one," Orik remarked as he hefted his rifle. "What is this crafty device called?"
"The M90 Close Assault Weapon System, but nobody calls it that. It's a Shotgun."
"Shotgun…" The dwarf muttered as he looked his weapon over. "I like it."
"You had the Sniper, Wallcroft?" Hudson asked, picking up the same black rifle as Spartan had always been using.
"Sure. I popped quite a few heads back on the Ark."
"I'll stick with the Assault Rifle then. I'm a big fan of the classics. Now…this leaves us with plenty of choices to make. We can't use Plasma weapons, or the Covvies will know something's up though. Arya, I believe you used the rifle before? Eragon too?"
Arya nodded, while Eragon's reply was more vocal. "Aye. During our escape from the coast and in Du Weldenvarden."
"Good. You two will be using them again during this operation. Murtagh, you too." Hudson glanced at the three remaining individuals who had not been armed yet. "That leaves us with ehm…different weapons. I think that elves and Shades will fare better in close combat than us "mortals", so…"
"The SMG's?" Wallcroft asked, reaching for one of the smaller weapons.
"Yes…yes, I think so. Raia, Daenlith and Yaele…am I pronouncing that right? Alright, I don't think any of you used these things before. Their small, but they have a lot of recoil. Your superior strength should be enough to keep on target though. These ones are outfitted with holographic sight, allowing you to zoom in and out on your target. These things pack a punch, especially up close. Excellent Brute killers; they tear through flesh and bones with ease, but they lack the punch to properly strip their shields with a few bursts. Teamwork is key. Okay, Gahrzvog? Big guy? Your fingers are a bit too…big…to fit on our triggers. We can modify them for your use, or…we could give you something big as well."
The kull growled with satisfaction, but then hesitated. "We must not make noise."
"True. Suppressors won't work on shotties, but I think we've got the right strategy here." He grabbed another one of the M90 weapons and tossed it at the Kull, who easily caught it. "Orik and Gahrzvog can't come with us on our way in. No offense, but a dwarf and a giant can't operate with the proper stealth. You'll be staying on our six and keep it open for our exfil."
That did not pass by well.
"Do you think I will simply sit and twiddle with my beard while you are pushing into the heart of our foe?" Orik exclaimed. "Fools you are!"
The Kull was not satisfied with that either. "I came to fight, Starborn! I will not sit back and wait!"
Wallcroft intervened before there could be more screaming and yelling. "That's the way it goes, lads. Not everybody can see some direct action right off the bat. But as long as you are part of this unit, you will perform your task! The Covenant can't know we're there until their gun is gone and when it blows, we need you to keep our route safe. Now you can either fall in line and shut it, or I'll punt ya' both down the bloody mountain!"
Orik fell quiet, grumbling and reaching for his weapon, but the Kull did not take the threat that well. He advanced on Wallcroft and looked down at him, making use of his massive size in an attempt to intimidate the soldier. " Humans have never ordered me around without my consent! I chose to aid the Varden against the Oath-breaker, but not you!"
Wallcroft seemed about as fazed as a dragon threatened by a sheep. His posture was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "I've been carrying out strikes to the Covenant for a long time. I know what it takes to blow them and I won't let that happen. So either you follow your orders, or you can go live in the sand, down there."
Arya stood, as well as Yaele and Eragon. Even Hudson seemed to stop his thing to look at the conflict, but he didn't look worried. Arya did not know why; if this turned into a conflict, not only would it shatter the trust that they had to have in order to survive, but it would also place Wallcroft's life in great peril.
The Kull stared at the Starborn for a few heartbeats, during which Arya grew increasingly tense, until at last he quietly grunted and looked away.
"I will follow your orders," he growled. "But not using your troops to their potential brings ruin."
The Sergeant did not reply to that. "How much time do we have?"
"Seven minutes."
"Right. Prep your gear, get a feel for it and learn how to reload. Corporal, you can show them that. I'll look for that spook."
Arya watched the Sergeant take his leave with a fluster of mixed emotions. It took her a few moments to realize just what it was that she was feeling though, as everything about this felt rather surreal to her. Working with a Shade and an urgal was not something that she could just do, no matter how useful they were in combat or how good their intentions were. Seeing Raia here, together with Eragon and the UNSC soldiers…it made her feel uneasy. Vulnerable. She constantly had to remind herself that the creature was not Durza, but that was difficult. It was good that Orik and Murtagh were here for Eragon, but they too made her feel on edge.
"Murtagh," Orik loudly proclaimed while Hudson showed Raia and Yaele how to hold and aim their SMG's, "Just how did you escape the grasp of Galbatorix himself? Oaths uttered in the Ancient Language can never be broken. How can I be certain that you will not betray us?"
"Oaths can be broken if you change who you are," Murtagh replied with a low voice. "I think, right now, everybody has a new True Name. You might want to re-swear your oaths."
The insight of Morzan's son was greater than Arya had expected. The nature of the True Name was that it described everything you were at a given moment of time. It is not easily changed, as the behavior and personality of people tended to be written in stone. But she knew that, during her time spent as the Empire's captive, her True Name had forever changed. Who she had been would never return to her, no matter how much time went by. This war took her back to those fleeting moments of apprehension –knowing that everything had changed with no hopes of it ever returning to normal. Supposedly Orik, as most of the dwarves, had aided the civilians in their escape from Aberon. Many had died during aerial attacks and massive projectiles striking them from a distance, but it had not been the front. Murtagh had been fighting on the front lines.
The dwarf lowered his voice as well while giving his reply. "That is no answer to my question."
"I trust him," Eragon said, carefully attaching the silencer to his rifle. "As I trust everyone here."
"Without trust, our enemy has already won," Arya said. "We must overcome our differences if we are to emerge victorious."
"Trust is hard to come by," Orik replied. "Our losses have been tremendous."
"As have everyone's," Eragon then said, taking over from Arya. Talking was more his thing than hers. "These people have been fighting this Covenant for decades now. I did not trust Spartan at first either, and I know he never trusted any one of us, but we fought and we won. So imagine what we can do when we know we can put our lives in each other's hands. This goes farther than Galbatorix and his Empire. We fight for our very planet, not just our freedom. Everybody will have died for nothing if we can't beat the Covenant back!"
"Always such a way with words," Murtagh said as he fiddled with his rifle. "Leave that to the armies, brother. We've got a job to do."
"You guys done arguing there?" Corporal Hudson said, tossing a handful of spherical devices in their direction. Arya instinctively reached out and caught them with magic, stopping them from falling in-between their feet. "Hold on to these, we'll need them to set up traps in case anything goes wrong."
"What are these?" she asked. She would ignore the blunt manner with which the Corporal carried himself.
"Grenades; frags and stickies. Don't worry, their harmless," he quickly added upon seeing her alarmed expression. "Just prime them and throw them at designated targets if we are chased. The Agent's almost ready; transport is a go within the minute. Grab your gear, stash your ammo –no more than four clips a person- and get moving."
Within moments, the members of Section twenty-six gathered their equipment, strapped on their weapons and munition and took to leaving. It turned out that Wallcroft was waiting at the bottom of the cliff, together with two strange-looking vehicles. One of them had a massive weapon mounted on its backside, while the other one had what looked like a cage attached to its back. The armed one looked familiar to her though; had she seen it before?
"Mount up," the Sergeant said, beckoning to the vehicles. "It's a long trip to the forest and the Covenant is bound to gain a level in intelligence and start noticing their disappearing patrols."
"I'll take the transport," Hudson called. "Takes a professional to steer it without going feet-first into hell."
"Only because you're driving it arse about face!"
Arya did not know what these fools were talking about, but moving towards hostile territory in these vehicles looked like an absurd idea to her. These Covenant vessels were like dragons with the most powerful spells cast about them; they would lay waste to entire armies without having to fear retaliation. The powerful weapons of the Starborn humanity were just not strong enough to stand a chance. How were they going to escape if the enemy caught them destroying their installation?
"Let's see…Yaele, you've got the turret. Orik, you're riding shotgun."
The dwarf raised his weapon. "I sure am!"
"Not like that, you bearded pair of…legs. Next to me in the 'Hog!"
"Then why do you not simply say that!" the dwarf exclaimed with indignation. "Cease your confusing slang, you stone-headed fool!"
How mature. While Yaele and Orik mounted the armed vehicle, Hudson directed the rest of the group into the vehicle with the cagelike structure at its rear. It possessed several seats with smooth, leather-like coverings that served as seats. It seemed to provide ample room for the elves and humans, but the Kull had trouble climbing inside.
"Why cannot I simply walk?" he asked.
"Because you'd be left behind. This thing goes faster and farther than any horse."
While the claim was farfetched, Arya did not think it was untrue. After all, if their aerial vessels could outspeed a dragon, why could their land vehicles not outspeed horses?
"So," Hudson asked them as he sat down at the far left of the vehicle, from where he could command it. "Just exactly what did this crazy Galbatorix of you do to become the king of an Empire?"
"The king? He betrayed his order," Eragon replied. "The order of the Dragon Riders. He lost his dragon to an urgal ambush and her death made him mad with grief. Supposedly, he spent weeks wandering the land, challenging death to claim him."
"That doesn't really sound like the psychopath he has been made to be," the Corporal then said. "I thought he was a tyrant?"
"He is! When he finally got the idea that he could ask the Order for another egg, they refused him. They recognized his madness and did not want a part of it."
"Hold on…they did what? They refused a man who had nearly gone mad with grief and loss the only chance to maybe find happiness in his life?"
"It was not like that," Arya firmly replied. "He had become a danger. A mad Rider, roaming the land? Nobody would profit from something like that."
"But…wouldn't it be the choice of the dragon? Present him another egg which, of course, wouldn't pick him if he was as mad as you say…and then go 'sorry dude, bad luck'. Sounds like that would have prevented all of this idiocy."
"You know not what you speak of!" Arya snapped, though doubt took away the strength from her words. "Wise as they were, even the Riders could not have foreseen this tragedy."
"Just saying. Refusing the mentally unstable Rider from trying a one-in-a-million shot at peace seems like a bad idea to me. And I'm not a wise or aged pointy-eared SOB with a superiority complex."
"That is uncalled for," the Shade quietly told him in a voice that was meant to be heard by only the Corporal.
"Uncalled for my ass!" he replied. "This's been bugging me for a while now. If we forget the entire stagnant period under the "good will" of the Riders, we still have many years of the so-called oppression under Galby's rule. Why the hell didn't the elves ever do something?"
"Are you pinning this on us?" Arya demanded with indignation.
"I think so, yeah. Every elf I've ever spoken to is convinced of their superiority over the other races. And with your magic, you could have fought over a dozen battles entirely in your favor."
"I have been fighting this war ever since the usurper killed my father!" Arya yelled at the Starborn, ceased by emotions she had not felt since her first meeting with the Spartan. Feelings of anger and unfairness, like she wasn't properly able to defend her clause.
"You and which other elf? Your kind could have alleviated the suffering or losses of other species, but what did they do? Hide in their forests and hope that the immortal king with a stable economy and powerful military will eventually go away."
"Hey," Eragon snapped. "That's enough. She wasn't involved with those decisions, was she? Or did you forget? She fought her battles and she felt her losses. She has lost more for our war than you have for yours."
"There's not much elf around here I can blame, can I? Believe me, when I meet that queen of yours, I'll be giving her a piece of my thoughts as well."
Arya bristled. How could her kind have foreseen what would happen? Was the blame theirs? Nobody would think of blaming the UNSC of their war, did they? "My mother made bad choices. But there is but one individual to blame for this war and that is the oath-breaker."
"War is never that easy, missy. We've had plenty of wackjobs in our history, but...well I suppose war can be that easy, but not here. Your species has been sitting in their forests with their thumbs up their behinds for too long."
"And they have felt that now?" Arya asked, her voice nearly trembling with anger. Ever since she and her allies had been ambushed by Durza, her capability of emotional control had been wavering. She could no longer properly regulate what she felt and it disturbed her. "Did they get what they deserved?"
"I'm not saying that. Nobody will ever say that. Nobody deserves the Covenant knocking on the door. I'm just asking: why didn't anybody do something in this country?"
"It's difficult fighting an immortal man with a dragon the size of a hill," Murtagh said with a snort. "Especially when he has thirteen immortal followers with hill-sized dragons as well."
"And the Varden didn't create itself," Eragon added. "Everybody is doing something. It's just not enough. Did your people all unite when they encountered the Covenant?"
"Of course not. Just because other people are stupid doesn't mean we aren't stupid. The Insurrectionists –an enemy rebel organization that didn't agree with our government…kinda like the Varden, I suppose- saw the arrival of the Covenant as all the more reason to steal from us and stay hidden. The UNSC stupidly kept fighting two fronts at the same time."
"So what business would you have insulting my people when yours display the same self-destructive habits?"
"Because I was born about twenty-six years ago, when the UNSC was already waging war. One mini-Hudson changes jack-shit."
"Who is Jack?" Gahrzvog grumbled.
"It's a saying. One person can't change a thing on his own, no matter how gifted or smart they are. The fact that the Varden chose Eragon as their sole form of hope is a testimony to how stupid they are."
"Yet the oath-breaker did," the Kull then said. "He was one man and he changed history."
"Again, that's not a point in your favor."
This was not going well. They had yet to fully embark on their mission and they were already fighting each other. The Corporal had a point; if they could not fully work together and take action, what use was it to even attempt to fight?
Living in a society where different races all had humanoid appearances and functions had its ups-and-downs. To Field Agent Undertow, there were only downs. The changes in biology that had most likely been caused by Forerunner intervention instead of normal evolution all served to needlessly complicate his job. But the urgals? They tipped it off. Bloodthirsty morons who fought for the right to mate. Those were a specific case of nasty morons, these urgals. In the long, long history of mankind, not one civilization had been able to reach greatness while at the same time founding their believes and cultures on fighting. In the oddball case that one such group of people had managed to bulrush their way through other kingdoms, their reign had been short-lived. A race of creatures that thrived on fighting was a race doomed to extinction.
And a race that was fond of war? A race that he would personally help find said extinction. Whether it was taking S25 and running missions through their hometowns or simply razing them from above by luring the Covenant there, he would find a way to render the urgals harmless.
Not that they were necessarily the most dangerous ones. Each race had a quality that made them a danger to the UNSC-Varden "alliance" that was attempting to resist the Covenant forces. The elves had their magic, but they were limited in numbers. The dwarves were great in number, but their combat prowess was comparable to that of Grunts without plasma weapons. Without air superiority, each and every massive army could easily be destroyed.
Funny how things went. These races, all of whom resembled mankind more than any Covenant race ever would, were both new threats to the UNSC as completely harmless. In total war, they would be utterly destroyed. But in an alliance they posed a much greater threat.
The Agent slowly marched down the path towards the largest part of the Varden camp, where most of their soldiers and civilians had been stationed. He could smell their cooking pots and eccentric manners of making dinner. He could hear their banter and their laughter as they tried to wash away their fears and grief. He had to give it to the natives; even the civvies knew that grief had no place in war. They would function and work and do their thing, but they would do it efficiently and unburdened by their losses.
Until they were alone, upon which they would silently break down. It always went like that.
Undertow wondered how it felt, to grief. To feel such despair and sorrow that it would endanger your health, that it would make working impossible and that it could even cease your sanity. A small part of him wished that he were able to do the same thing.
Silliness.
He approached the nearest sentry and quietly asked him, "Can you tell me where to find the herbalist?"
The man looked at him warily. "The woman with the werecat? Down the road, at the hind part of the camp. Fixing her potions, probably."
"Excellent. Thank you." After that section of forced banter and fake politeness, Undertow continued his journey with a leisurely pace. These people showed qualities that could theoretically impress him. They showed suspicion and wariness towards their saviors instead of blindly following and thanking them like muppets.
Of course they displayed that same suspicion now that he was wandering down their path, visibly armed and suited up. Their purple-ish suits would cause those who had fought the Covenant to look at S25 with more than suspicion though, with good reason. The metal plates of their ODST-based BDU's were derived from Covenant metal, which granted them increased durability for less weight. Still a less effective suit than the MJOLNIR though, but at least they didn't cost a Destroyer's worth of credits.
When Undertow was close enough to the latter section of the camp, he started quietly calling her name. "Herbalist…oh herbalist…come on out."
People who stood in his way quickly made sure that they didn't. Soon enough, one of the tents burst open and a woman with dark hair and exotic make-up rushed out. Her clothes were simple enough, be it that she wore a small cape over her shoulders. It was her face that caught his attention; it was surprisingly different from the rest of the blank rabble around here. He could see wisdom in them, as difficult as it was to define wisdom as something visible. It stood apart from the wariness and tension in her body.
Not that it mattered, but still. It was something.
"Herbalist," he said with mock pleasantry. "There you are."
"Is there something on your mind?" She asked him with a voice that would have almost made him think that she didn't really care for what he thought. "Apart from the secrets that you keep and information about how to turn silly things into weapons."
So this was the witness that he had heard about? More annoying than anything. "If you could come with me, Angela."
She raised an eyebrow, displaying her skepticism towards him. "So you do now my name? So very rude, going around and calling me herbalist, if that is the case. Let me guess, you are Field Agent Reaper?"
Almost. "Night. I need you to come with me."
"Agent Night then. Not very creative with names, are you? Let me humor you then. I'll follow you."
Reaper. Funny. So Specialist Takeo was right; the herbalist had nosed around too much. Her method of breaching security would have to wait.
The two of them marched back up the hill, following the same path that the Agent had taken on his way to find the woman. He had prepared a small patch of rocks and ground just for this occasion, but that would take some maneuvering to get to. Lucky him; the herbalist was more than met the eye. A special case of weird and strange.
Along the way, he spotted something interesting. Clever woman, he thought, but he refrained from commenting on it. Why would he? It wasn't in his interest to do something like that.
She silently followed him about…halfway to the meeting grounds. A shame that she wasn't stupid though. "So where are you taking me? I take it that you are not going to show me an enjoyable sight."
"Depends on your idea of enjoyable."
"Yes yes, everything is subjective. Of course. Or do you plan to recruit me too, just like the others? My skills are not meant for menial duties, you know?"
That remark. Funny. If she had said that any normal soldier, she would have received flak about the whole "we are fighting a war for our survival" thing. He couldn't muster the passion to get worked up about that. "Something like that."
"Ever so informative, you bunch. You remind me of the Spartan. When are you going to reveal that he passed away? Or that you pumped his head full of drugs?"
Was it just him, or was every remark she made aimed at either revealing what she knew or confusing others? Things didn't work like that.
"That's not my paygrade."
"Silly remark, that. How would the amount of money one makes in any way dictate what they can or not say?"
She was giving him a headache. Thankfully they were almost where they needed to be. The mountainous path was difficult to scale, but not impossible. Undertow experienced little problems with making his way up the path, avoiding the loose rocks and finding the proper holds. Angela did not fare that well; her clothes made climbing tedious and dangerous and more often than not, she slipped or pulled free a rock that was not meant to be pulled on. She did manage to keep up with him, strangely enough. That made his job much easier.
The Agent was the first to reach the top of the path, which had led them far away from prying eyes. It was a reclusive patch of dirt and rocks, flanked by large walls of rocks and stones. A perfect place for a civilized conversation.
He walked to the opposite end of the clearing, from where he had a good view on the desert. The files were clear on how to approach this. The herbalist had even said it herself; she wanted to be there where important things happened. That made her a disaster tourist, wandering around without a purpose in life.
Angela reached the top next. She still had her sword-staff with her. "An interesting place for a meeting."
Sure. He placed his combat knife on the ground and wandered over the left wall, casually observing the patterns of the rock that he had created himself beforehand. "An interesting sight."
She did not assume that he was talking about the symbols in the wall. Instead she marched straight over towards the little lookout at the far end, where he had placed his knife. "Do you have a reason to drop off your weapon like that? A symbolic gesture in your people, perhaps?"
"I always like watching the desert. There's interesting stuff to the keen observer."
She turned her back to him and started observing the view as well, no doubt trying to figure out what he meant. "Is that so?" She said. Her fingers never loosened their grip on her weapon.
"Yes." He reached for his M6D sidearm, which had been modified to carry an effective silencer. "It is."
The herbalist moved at the moment he aligned the barrel with her head. She spun around and twisted her staff to block his shot, but the first bullet was still much faster than she could respond. Instead of nailing her head, it found its mark in her shoulder.
Impressive speed.
The distance between the two of them was closed rapidly as Angela lunged for him, likely accelerating her movement speed with magic. Her sword-staff flashed through the air and Undertow blocked the first strike by swiping his pistol at it, momentarily diverting its momentum.
Time slowed down and colors became blurry. His heartrate increased, his thought-processes accelerated. Her attacks were faster and more jarring than he had expected and he was forced to pull out his other combat knife to even the odds. Using both his pistol as his blade to defend himself, Agent Undertow knew that he wasn't going to be fighting much longer if she resorted to magic. He could already feel what had to be brushes of mental contact creeping in on his spine, not powerful enough to gain entrance.
He kicked at her midriff, knocking her off-balance before he spotted movement from the corners of his eye. Something jumped at him and he pivoted around on his right foot, slamming his knife all the way up to the hilt into the furry body of an oversized cat.
Werecat. The impact rattled his arm, but in no way did it distract him from the fight, which couldn't be said for Angela. The furry body rolled to a standstill across the rocks and she made the mistake of flashing a worried look at its fallen frame, just a split-second.
Of course, perception of spit-seconds varied per individual. Undertow gripped her staff with both hands and, with a single kick of his fortified boot, snapped it into two pieces. He then took a step closer to her and slammed his fist against the underside of her chest, followed up by a strike against her unprotected stomach.
Something cracked underneath his fist and she staggered backwards, dropping the ruined remains of her staff. She reached for her chest and opened her mouth for a spell, but he did not allow that.
Another step, bringing him close again. He could see in her facial expressions that she had not expected this. The fight, perhaps. Being outclassed? No, she had always thought that the Starborn were more appearance and talk than action. She had not witnessed their actions, seen their deeds. They did not know how far they would go to keep the peace.
The herbalist opened her mouth to speak a spell, but the S25 member did not let her. Martial Arts had different approaches to engaging stunned enemies, be they hit with a punch to the organs or a strike that left them winded. He preferred using the more aggressive approaches. As such, he did not step back to guard himself, but instead kept on the offensive. Any form of magic would end his life and they already had an extensive dossier on Angela's form of magic. He would not allow her to speak.
He struck her throat with two sharp jabs, crushing her larynx. Her legs gave in from the shock of the impact and she collapsed, sinking through her knees.
Undertow raised his pistol again and allowed her head to rest against its barrel. Her eyes were wide with shock and pain and blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. Taking out a human this close and personal was somewhat new to him; he hadn't done it since months. It ought to do something to him.
He pulled the trigger and the herbalist fell backwards from the blow, a thin trail of blood leaking from the hole in her head. To be sure, the Agent shot her two more times, once in her chest to betray breathing and once in the stomach, to reveal a reaction to extreme pain.
Both of them were negatives.
Undertow went to verify the death of the werecat that had been tracking him since he had picked Angela up, but its body was gone. Blood trails on the rocks indicted that it had dragged itself towards the left, where a small indent in the wall could allow for a creature the size of a small dog to escape.
What a drag. He hurried towards the wall and kicked off against the ground, propelling himself several feet high against the wall. Then, using several small cracks and protruding rocks as holds, he launched himself up over the edge and scanned the rocky environment. He caught a bloody trail and more movement down the landscape.
A cat trying to run a way, a few dozen meters away. Wounded from the knife, it wasn't going anywhere.
Still holding on to the edge, Agent Undertow took aim and squeezed off another two shots. One punched through the werecat's spine and the other one blew its head open. Even though non-collateral headshots on human were definitely possible with such a large caliber, the skull of a cat wasn't. Even from that distance he could see that he had blown a fist-sized holed in the back of the creature's head before its limp body crashed against the ground.
Silence reigned after those shots. Then, the Agent established a private communication link with Specialist Takeo, who had discovered the leak. "This is S25 Agent Undertow. I uh…plugged the hole."
"Good job Agent," the specialist said. His accent was very noticeable, but his gravelly voice made up for that in an odd way. "We will take steps to prevent future incidents. Dispose of the bodies –an alibi has been forged in the case they ask questions about having last seen her with you."
"What alibi, sir?"
"Brute Stalkers in active camo were engaged and subsequently killed in a brief firefight, during which an unlucky shot hit and detonated a belt of plasma grenades. The herbalist Angela was vaporized by the blast."
Because she had been fighting in close combat. A noble death then. "And the werecat?"
"He disappeared following the fight, or he died as well. That's how werecats are; always a mystery."
"And the noise of the plasma explosions?"
"Taken care off."
A few seconds later, several explosions rippled through the silent air, their echoes coming from all directions through the mountains. Impossible to determine the origin of the explosions, too. Another neutralized Covenant patrol then.
"Spare plasma grenades. Soldiers are being told that another patrol has been destroyed."
That was the price of secrecy. Due to her nosy nature and strange ways of procuring information, Angela had gotten access to some information that she should not have gotten and now she had paid the price. If the UNSC found out about what they did to their own soldiers, people would revolt. They didn't want that.
Undertow confirmed that last order and devised a plan of action. He had to get rid of the bodies before anyone else showed up and had to be disappeared as well, but the UNSC was a bit lacking in proper burial kits.
The desert could swallow anything within an hour. The weight of the herbalist and the werecat were nothing to him and he carried them towards the edge, where he hesitated.
Should he clean the bloodstains first? Perhaps later.
He wanted to question why they hadn't sent Reaper to deal with these sorts of things, but he knew better. Making dead things disappear wasn't the same thing as disappearing among dead things and of the entirety of S25, it was most likely Agent Undertow who was the most reliable killer. Him, working at his best when he was off assassinating things. Wetworks had become his thing, sort of.
There was always someone who found out more than they were allowed to and there would always be secrets that could not be risked. The Field Agent threw the bodies over the edge, whereupon he climbed down after them. More work to do. After this, there was a certain pointy-eared individual he needed to visit.