PART FOUR
–TERMINUS VECTOR–

Greg had gathered (almost) every last member of Task Force Reaper in the lobby to the outpost that was their home.

One way or another, it wouldn't be much longer.

"Is everyone checked in?" he asked, looking around at the men and women surrounding him.

They each did a radio check, one by one, and once he had confirmed that they were all in on this call, he reached out to Gibson.

The man was waiting for them, for this time there was no delay and no need to be relayed to him. He cleared his throat and began.

"All right, this is the plan. I am both enraged and enlightened to learn that there was research being done on the Flood completely independent of our own operation here. Research being done at a much better location. They were far better staffed and equipped, and thus managed to get a lot done in a short amount of time. I'm still trying to piece together exactly how that all worked out, but right now it doesn't matter. Here is the key thing: we need to find the Proto-Gravemind. At present, we have no knowledge of where it is. We believe it is at the zero point for this infestation, and no one knows for sure where that is.

"We have people searching, but we need to know for sure. And I managed to get in touch with the research team at the lab. They told me that they had just devised a way to scan for Flood effectively, but that they were also experiencing a full containment breach and then I lost all contact with them. They've since gone completely dark. That was two hours ago. I already had a team scrambled out there, but I've lost contact with them as well, as of fifty five minutes ago. So, this is your task, Sergeant Walker: assemble your team, take your best people, and get this research. I'm sending a pair of Carrier Warthogs over with whatever gear I could think of that you might need. Everyone else who you aren't taking, we're going to have them come back with the Carriers and begin help with the evacuation efforts."

"Understood, Master Sergeant. But what about how to actually find this thing? With the solar phenomenon in the atmosphere affecting sensors...how can we possibly find it in time?"

"I'm working on that, too. It's looking dicey, but we have a few things working for us. The first is that weather research data you recovered. It's been very, very helpful. I believe we understand enough about the interference to counteract it at least somewhat. The second thing is that based on the intelligence we have gathered, we've been able to at least narrow the zero point to within five hundred square miles. We're presently working on locating some powerful enough sensors that will be able to triangulate the Proto-Gravemind once we integrate the new search criteria. But that comes later. Right now, you prepare for this mission. It's…" he hesitated.

"It's what?" Greg pressed.

"Underwater. It's an aquatic research facility that's out in the middle of the ocean, built partially above the waterline, mostly below it."

"Oh great," Izzy muttered.

"We can handle it," Greg replied. "Just make sure you have the next part ready to go."

"I will." He paused, then sighed heavily. "Right now, all of our lives depend on you getting this done, correctly and quickly. And even then, once we find the Proto-Gravemind, we still have to kill the damned thing. I'm hoping we can just drop a nuke on it but I doubt we'll be that lucky. But we're preparing for that as well. Your Carriers will be there within the next five minutes. So good luck out there, Task Force Reaper."

"We'll get it done," Greg promised.

"Godspeed. Out."

Greg looked around at the people who shared the lobby with him. They all stared back at him with variations of the same look: tired but determined. They were pale, bloodshot-eyed wraiths of war, already having gone through so much.

And now he needed to ask more of them.

Of himself.

But they could do, he told himself.

He could do it.

He had to.

He spent a long moment figuring out who was going to come with him. A few were pretty obvious, the others, not so much. He could tell from the way they were looking at him that they were each thinking similar thoughts.

"All right," he said finally. "Izzy, Ellis, Breaker, Laney, and Turner, I need."

"Why me?" Turner asked, though she didn't sound like she was arguing.

"I need a scientist there, on site, to help find the research data, to verify that it's what we're looking for. I'd like to bring Yamazaki, but between the two of you, you're far more suited for something like this. Unless you disagree," Greg replied.

"I don't disagree," Yamazaki replied immediately.

Turner sighed softly. "I concur. I'll go."

"Thanks. Anyone else, I'll take volunteers. We could use the help, though so could they in the evacuation efforts, so don't feel like you're getting off easy if you choose the evac route," Greg said, looking around.

"I'll go," Coretti said.

Rydell sighed. "Yeah, I'll go. Lowell, you'll probably be better with evacuating people, given your background."

"That's what I was thinking," she agreed.

"I'd go if I could," Larsen said over the radio. He was in the infirmary, the only one who hadn't gathered in the lobby for obvious reasons.

"I know," Greg replied. He looked around, then nodded. "All right, then. Larsen, Yamazaki, Skinner, and Lowell are going to head back to the Regional HQ. Everyone else...prepare for probably the most important mission of your life."

Twenty four hours.

One day until they all perished, if they failed.

Actually, Greg amended unhappily as he checked the timer Gibson had given him, now on his HUD, it was closer to twenty two hours.

"We sure this one isn't going to fall out of the sky?" Izzy asked.

"Nope," Breaker replied over the team's commlink.

She sighed.

"I'm sure Gibson has more on standby if need be. We'll just have to survive the landing," Greg replied.

"Yeah, except we'll be over frozen water this time around," Izzy muttered.

He wasn't sure what to say to that. Instead, he looked around at the others. They were all quietly studying the intel that they had on this mission. It was a rush job if there ever was one. The datapads that they'd been given only had information on the top of the isolated research rig. It was located about twenty miles off the coast of one of the largest seas on the planet, which put it about an hour away from their outpost.

Not a terribly long flight, but it sure as hell felt like it given both the fact that they could plummet from the dark gray skies at any second, and that they were working against a seriously restrictive timeline.

Whatever it had been beforehand was classified, though Turner had told them it was probably nothing special. Apparently tons of stuff got classified nowadays. Geological surveys, biological investigations, marine biology research projects. The government was funding a lot of research and they were getting paranoid about all of it. She told them it was almost certainly just some bland marine biology facility.

The consequences of this, however, were that they only had a map of the topside of the facility, which was labeled the Gernsback Platform.

So they were figuring out the best plan of action. They were to, if possible, determine if there were any survivors and get them out of there, but put emphasis on the research data. Get in, get the data, get out. As quickly as possible.

Greg finished studying the map one more time. He was in charge of this operation, and he had a relatively simply plan: go from the landing pad directly to the lift that would take them to the underwater portion. They didn't have time to search every nook and cranny this time, not even for survivors. He'd decided that he would go out of his way to save them if they came across them organically, but he wouldn't go looking for them. It was a grim decision, but at this point, the fate of the planet was riding on this.

They couldn't afford to waste any time.

After he'd studied the map one more time, making sure he wasn't missing anything and that the path between the landing pad and the elevator was as clear cut as it appeared, he went about checking over his weapons. He still had his M6G and his battle rifle, but now he also had a shotgun for good measure, and as much ammo for all of them as he could stuff into his many pockets. He knew what a containment breach at a close quarters facility meant when it came to Flood by now: lots of enemies in dark, tight corridors.

Otherwise known as nightmare fuel.

"You doing okay?"

He glanced over. Izzy was looking at him with baggy, bloodshot eyes.

"I'm tired," he murmured. "But I'm ready for this. Although God do I hope we get even just a single day off once this is over."

"Yes," she agreed, rolling her shoulders and then popping her neck loudly.

Greg found himself wanting to drift off into a fantasy of whatever vacation may lay ahead of him, but there was no time for that. If he didn't focus up, he wouldn't live long enough to enjoy the vacation. Instead, he gave the others a few minutes to finish up their own research, and then garnered their attention.

"The plan is simple, at least at first," he said, looking around at them. "We clear the landing pad, and then make our way to the elevator. We'll fly over the rig once before landing to get an idea of the opposition. Once we get underwater, it'll be a total crapshoot, so be ready, be focused. Our primary goal is the data. Any survivors we come across we will rescue if at all possible, but if it's a choice between survivors and that data...we have to choose the data. Once we get underground and secure our position, we'll search until we can find a point of access to link into the internal network and find a map of the facility, then we'll go there, download the data, and get back out. Does anyone have any questions?"

He waited, but there weren't any.

They all knew the score.

"Laney," he said, looking at the Corporal, "I'm assigning you to protect Doctor Turner. Make sure nothing happens to her."

"Understood," he replied with a tight nod.

Turner said nothing to this.

Greg nodded and then turned his attention outbound, looking at the bleak frigid landscape they were whipping past, snow blasting by the windows. It was darkening as they raced towards the planet's terminator. He didn't relish fighting in the ocean, against the Flood, and in the dark, but it wasn't like he had a choice.

At least that simplified things.

Do this or you die.

"We're in sight of the rig now, preparing to flyby," Breaker reported.

Greg stood and joined him in the cockpit, gripping an overhead handle to steady himself as the Pelican banked and glided over the research rig.

It was a construction of grim steel and glass that stood amid a churning sea of dark, icy waters. It wasn't snowing here, but Greg thought a storm was on the way. He sighed softly. Where wasn't there a storm on the way or brewing anywhere on this miserable planet? He carefully scoped the platform, looking for signs of life, but it was difficult to tell from this height. He thought he saw movement down there among the frozen metal.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No. No signs of human life from the sensors. But that's just on the platform and in the water. The submarine portion is protected from my scans."

"Well that simplifies things somewhat at least," Greg muttered. "All right. Put us down on the landing platform."

"Yes, Sergeant."

Greg rejoined the others, sitting back down. "No life signs on the surface. I thought I saw some Flood moving around, but it's dark out there," he reported.

"We'll be ready," Ellis said.

He nodded. He felt good about his team, he just didn't feel good about forcing them all into the meat grinder yet again.

But that was life as a Marine in a time of war.

Greg felt his adrenaline spike as the landing struts engaged and, a few seconds later, they settled onto the icy platform.

"Let's get it done, Marines!" he snapped as he got to his feet, grabbed his battle rifle, and moved to the back ramp. As soon as he was sure everyone was armed and ready, he punched the button and then brought his hand back to grip the rifle. The ramp lowered, letting a bitterly cold wind into the cabin. He was going to be glad to be free of this cold.

This was his last thought before his focus came down like a hammer and he swept the immediate area with his gaze as he moved slowly down the ramp. There were no Flood on the landing platform with them, but there were bodies. He saw several dead Marines and a few dead technicians, all of them in cold weather gear. It looked like they'd rushed here in search of escape only to either be left behind or not make it in time.

Either way, they were dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

He also saw about twenty dead, bullet-riddled Combat Forms choking the walkway that connected the landing pad to the rest of the platform.

"Secure left," Izzy said.

"Secure right," Coretti reported.

"Secure back," Ellis informed them after checking beneath and around the Pelican they'd just come out of.

"Let's move! Careful on the bridge!" Greg called, and set off, leading them onto the platform.

The walkway was about a dozen feet wide and he doubted it felt particularly secure even during the best of times. Greg stepped over the Flood corpses, hoping that none of them were playing dead, and noted unhappily that there were no weapons among them. Meaning that the Flood had armed themselves even after the slaughter. How free was their access between the upper level and the lower levels? How many were there?

He hated having this little intel.

About halfway down the walkway, he froze, holding up a fist. There was movement ahead. The walkway linked to the central platform the rest of the rig all linked up to. This is where they needed to go to get into the elevator.

"Contacts!" he called, dropping to one knee as he adjusted his aim.

A dozen Combat Forms were on the platform and they had yet to fully take notice of Task Force Reaper. That quickly changed as Greg put a three-round burst through the chest of the closest one. It toppled over as the Infection Form inside of it was blown away. As he shifted and fired again, and the others opened fire around him, the other Flood began racing towards them. Three more went down. Then another two before they reached the threshold of the walkway. As Greg squeezed the trigger once more, blowing out the chest of a former technician violently remade into a parasitic alien lifeform, he knew they had this on lock.

That was when he heard a growl far, far too close to his immediate right. Glancing over, he watched in horror as a burly, ropy-muscled terror hauled itself up over the railing.

"Contacts! Right side!" he screamed, turning and firing.

Even as he put it down, sending it toppling over the edge to the dark, churning waters below, he saw more tentacles and grasping clawed hands climbing up the sides of the walkway. He shot another two nearest to him, blowing the arm off one and sending another over the side to follow the first, then emptied the battle rifle dead ahead.

"Forward! Izzy, Coretti, cover the rear!" he snapped as he hastily reloaded.

There didn't seem to be more on the central platform and they had to bottleneck them, or at the very least get out of this viper's nest. He raced forward, opening fire, Ellis beside him. Together, they put down the handful of Combat Forms trying to get onto the walkway with them from the front. Greg reloaded again, skidding to a halt, spinning around, and sidestepping to cover the others. "Ellis, cover the rear!" he snapped.

"On it," she replied quickly, moving to cover his back.

There were over a dozen Combat Forms on the walkway now, coming after the group, and over half of them were armed.

Cursing, he sidestepped to get a better view and took out one that was nearly on Izzy, who was covering the back. Beside her was Coretti. Ahead of them was Laney, then Turner, then Rydell. Izzy and Coretti had just begun taking off now that he and Ellis had reached the platform to provide cover fire. Greg provided that cover fire. He squeezed the trigger again, spraying green gore out of a Combat Form with an assault rifle trying to draw a bead on them. He shifted and squeezed again, killing another Infection Form nestled within a dead man's chest and putting it down.

Within seconds, the others joined him on the platform. Rydell joined Ellis in covering their back while everyone else opened fire on the walkway.

The Flood didn't stand a chance.

The dozen or so remaining Combat Forms withered and died under the combined assault. As the last one died, a silence settled over the rig, broken only by the metal clatter of half a dozen weapons reloading and a cold wind blowing.

"Think that was all of them?" Izzy asked.

"Let's not find out," Greg replied.

He ran his gaze over the platform, looking at the various rooms attached to it, at broken windows and partially-closed doors. Nothing seemed alive among them. They didn't have time to confirm otherwise. They moved across the platform in a defensive pattern, but no more Flood assaulted them as they located the elevator control room, cleared it, and approached the elevator itself. The place was wrecked, and as he looked around, Greg saw how they'd gotten up and out: the vent shafts. Every ventilation grate or covering had been violently broken open.

"Izzy, check it," he murmured.

"Yep," she replied, walking over to the lift.

He looked around slowly, sure that he was missing something. This seemed too easy, even after that battle. When was the other shoe going to drop? For that matter, what did it look like? Was the local reactor in critical meltdown? Was the rig so unstable that it was about to drop to the bottom of the ocean? Was the elevator broken and they'd have to navigate some nightmare maze of Flood abominations to restore power?

"Elevator's fine, we can take it down now," Izzy reported.

"Open it up," Greg said, everyone getting into position in case anything horrifying was waiting for them inside.

But as it rose from the depths, settled into place, and opened with a ding, they found it bloodied, but empty and serviceable.

Greg slowly released his breath after he had cleared it out and stepped inside. He waved the others in, still waiting for that other shoe to drop.

He made quick contact with Gibson, managing to get in touch with the man and let him know that they were about to go below. Then did the same for Breaker.

They'd had it easy so far, but this was probably just the easy part of the mission.

They still had a whole underwater section to get through.

Steeling his resolve, he hit the down button.