Discretionary Warning: Although this story was given a general "T" rating, this chapter features graphic depictions of potentially disturbing topics.
Mantle
Alliman Surface Excavation, Site 2, 234 kilometers from Atlas
October 7th, 0845 Atlas Time, 2552 UNSC Military Calendar
If there was one universal trait amongst all UNSC recon vehicles, they were all very good at running away, their universal high speed allowing for better possibility of a successful getaway. Many of them even possessed rear-facing weapons, permitting the occupants to fire upon pursuing enemies. The arctic warthog was no exception, armed with the same M41 "Vulcan" LAAG as it's porcine cousin, which Meadows put to use keeping the flying Grimm from catching up to them. Most of the land-based Grimm were too slow to catch up, but some were fast enough to need killing.
"How's it going Boss?" Nathan asked as he withdrew another can of ammunition from the vehicle's large glove compartment, and began the process of adding the rounds to Meadow's mechanical belt to be fired, although their linkless nature made it difficult.
"They're starting to gain on us!" Meadows warned, temporarily increasing the rate of fire on the weapon to deal with an especially hard target, some kind of boney pill bug the size of a tank. Even the armor piercing .50 BMG rounds had trouble punching through the plating, but it went down after several seconds of concentrated gunfire.
"Where the hell is our air support?!" Yu asked, not taking her attention away from driving.
"They'll need more time to close the distance!" Meadows reported as he shredded a pair of Beowolves into oblivion, their rapidly dissolving corpses. "Nathan, keep feeding me belts!"
"I'm running out of cans!" Nathan pointed out, although he continued to add new ammunition to the belt as fast as he could.
"Hopefully we won't need many more!" Meadows replied, bringing the Vulcan around to blow apart some kind of flying lion with a scorpion tail. "Was that a fucking Manticore?"
"A what?!" Yu shouted in response. "You know what, forget it!"
Another of the creatures dived towards the warthog, before spitting a bolt of fire that barely missed the vehicle. Nathan could distinctly feel the area around him get much hotter, and despite the sudden heat, he let out a brief shiver.
"These things breathe fire?!" Meadows protested as he reduced the offending Grimm to a bullet riddled version of itself.
"I take it all back, this planet sucks!" Nathan added with a hint of fear.
"Trying to concentrate here!" Yu protested.
"Just drive!" Meadows ordered. "Nathan, get me some more rounds!"
"Last can!" Nathan called out as he withdrew the ammo container, before spotting something above them, a massive bird the size of a dropship that was closing in on them. "Boss, look up!"
"There's not much I can do about that thing!" Meadows admitted, although that didn't stop him from firing anyway.
As the giant bird closed the distance, it began to fling it's feathers at the warthog. The projectiles impacted the ground like giant javelins, sticking out of the ground like menacing black obelisks. Most of them missed completely, but one of them flew true and landed directly in Nathan's left thigh, the projectile punched directly through the canopy of the vehicle, his armor, flesh, and then pinned him to the seat.
He let out a howl of pain, followed by a series of extremely profane language. He was no stranger to wounds, but this was easily one of the worst he'd ever had. Even with the massive feather still embedded in him, he could feel blood rapidly pooling around the wound.
"Jesus Christ!" Yu said, taking a momentary glance in his direction and seeing what had happened.
"Nathan, Nathan!" Meadows called out, trying to get through to him. Nathan could hear the gun continue to fire, so Meadows must have still been firing. "Nathan, hang in there!"
He tried to respond, to say something along the lines of "I'm okay", but was unable to get anything more than slurred nonsense out of his mouth. He could feel his senses beginning to nullify, and he was vaguely aware of additional projectiles landing around them, forcing Yu to take evasive action to avoid being hit. He tried to reach the medical kit in front of him, but the feather blocked his reach.
"Incoming!" Meadows called out as the giant bird dove to rip into the warthog with its massive talons, but it never got the chance. A pair of missiles soared over their vehicle and collided with the monster, blowing it into rapidly disappearing chunks, with fragments of shrapnel landing all around them. "What the hell?!"
Yu noticed it too. "Oorah, cavalry's here!"
Meanwhile
D77H-TCI Dropship, Callsign "Fireball"
"Target down." Fireball's co-pilot confirmed. "The other Grimm are reacting to our presence."
Thank god, hopefully we'll be able to draw some attention off of those poor bastards. Fireball thought. "Give me the chaingun."
"It's yours." her co-pilot acknowledged, swiping the controls for the autocannon over to her station. "We aren't exactly rated for dogfighting, you know."
"Yeah, and you aren't rated for bitching, but look at what you're doing." Fireball retorted as she opened fire.
The massive chaingun blasted through most targets with ease, the depleted-uranium slugs ripping directly through most of the smaller targets and coming out the side barely slowed. Some targets, notably those with the heavy bone armor, were able to survive several hits, although follow up shots rendered them as dead as their companions.
We won't stick around for too long, just until the Hornets get here. Fireball thought.
The flight of Hornets that they had planned to engage the Grimm weren't in position by the time they were needed, so Fireball decided to step in with her own craft to fill the gap. Technically, she was supposed to be with the other two members of her wing, but that hardly mattered now. She noticed several of the larger Radar contacts had abandoned their pursuit of the recon team, and were now moving directly for her Pelican.
"Radar counts fourteen... correction, twenty-four inbound Bogies." Her co-pilot called out. "Unlocking missiles."
"Take the gun." Fireball said, handing over control of the Pelican's chin gun to her co-pilot so that he could continue firing. She checked the guidance software for the Anvil-II missiles, and was surprised to see a blank targeting scope. "My scope is clear, I'm seeing-"
"Use Radar guidance, their infrared signatures aren't visible to our sensors." her co-pilot suggested, the steady rhythm of the cannon's muzzle not stopping as he spoke.
Fireball swapped the guidance system, which immediately set to work on acquiring targets, the computer designated them in order of how dangerous they seemed to be, and assigned missiles in corresponding order. She was surprised by the lack of even a basic thermal signature on the Grimm, practically everything that had a heartbeat possessed one.
Maybe they can change their body temperature to blend in? That's scary. Fireball thought, before clearing her mind as the computer finished it's work, playing a loud electronic whine to announce it was ready to fire. "Tone and lock, firing!"
The remaining six missiles in the Pelican's starboard pod launched with a fiery display, before all of them made contact. Five of the missiles scored kills, but the largest target, some kind of terrifying giant bird, managed to survive the impact and began to retreat.
Those warheads are rated for making a clearing in deep jungle, what the hell are these things made of? Fireball thought.
"Remaining bogies closing fast, we should pull out." her co-pilot said, although he did not stop firing.
"Will the recon team be able to retreat without us?" Fireball asked doubtfully, it wasn't lost on her that they were the only reason that the warthog had managed to survive for as long as it already had.
"You know, you can just ask." A voice emitted from her commlink. She recognized the tone of the Dominion's oldest Pilot, "Spark". "We'll take care of it from here, bug out and return to your position."
Fireball gave a slight grin despite the fact that she'd just been told off. "Jump reactors to 100%, we're leaving."
"Thank god." her co-pilot quietly muttered, barely audible enough for her to hear.
Meanwhile
"I think she violated more regulations with that one move than I have all day." Fairfire said, speaking mostly to herself, watching through her binoculars as the daredevil Pelican made it's getaway.
Behind her, the Marines finished securing the ridgeline, keeping their eyes on the inner courtyard of the compound to make sure that the SDC mercs didn't try anything. They'd retreated into their concrete structures and hadn't shown signs of activity since, even the heavy flak guns remained unmanned.
"Regulation breaking maybe, but lifesaving." Ben justified next to her. "I'd take a demotion for it, but I'd have done the same in her shoes."
In the distance, a formation of tiny green and red lights dotted throughout the air, the navigation lights of the UNSC's main VTOL attack craft, the Hornet. Fairfire watched as miniscule projectiles erupted from the vehicles, the missiles soared through the air, before the entire salvo of missiles landed directly in the middle of the loose Grimm formation.
The results of the strike were absolutely catastrophic, and Fairfire watched with satisfaction as a massive cascade of explosions racked the loose Grimm formation, with some of the smaller ones being tossed through the air from the force of the blasts. The larger Grimm took it the worst, with the four large Elephant-like Grimm in the center being completely buried beneath a mountain of smoke and fire, although Fairfire couldn't see the results, it wasn't hard to guess that by the time the smoke cleared, they would have dissolved.
"Damn, I guess they broke out the Doorkickers." Ben said, referring to the large, underslung missiles that the Hornets had been using. In the distance, tracers began to erupt from the aircraft in incredible volume, tearing into the flying Grimm who were moving to engage them. "Do you think they'll even need a second run?"
"They will." Fairfire guessed, lowering her binoculars and keying her commlink. "Onyx, status report!"
"Still kicking!" Meadows reported. "Nathan took a bad hit, we're going to need CASEVAC."
Shit, we've taken a lot of losses. Fairfire thought. "Patch him up and get back to us, we'll send him up to the Dominion with our own wounded."
"Understood, we're on our way." Meadows confirmed.
"Good copy, Battlemage out." Fairfire said, before lifting her shotgun into a more professional position, rather than let it hang by the sling. "Come with me Sergeant, I might need your help for this."
"Wilco." Ben simply said, following along as they walked towards the impromptu triage center they had established by the damaged Scorpion.
The assault had gone well enough, with most of her Platoon still standing and active. Judging by the amount of corpses that the Marines had pulled off of the ridge, they'd inflicted much worse losses than they had actually received, with most of the Marine casualties being wounded in some manner. Fairfire stopped along the way to reassure one particularly-badly wounded Marine, who had lost an eye to a piece of shrapnel. The medics had stabilized him, although he would need an artificial replacement.
The enemy Huntsman had inflicted the worst of their losses, including both KIA Marines. Despite the briefing, Fairfire simply hadn't expected the mobility or abilities demonstrated by the man; it made her slightly uneasy, seeing such impossible feats performed against the men under her command. Despite her gut-instinct to put three rounds from her magnum into the back of his head, she'd ordered the man's wounds to be stabilized, as he was instrumental to her developing plan.
Still, she recognized the possibility that he could continue to use his abilities, as even while wounded, his aura would apparently recharge itself. As a precaution, she had his hands and feet bound, along with a series of medical splints roughly wrapped around his legs and arms to keep them in place. Should all of that fail to contain him, she'd ordered him moved a safe distance from the rest of the wounded, and had his stretcher placed on top of a shaped charge.
Besides, worst case scenario, I'm standing next to a Spartan. Fairfire thought, satisfied with her precautions. Although I'm sure the Lieutenant's gonna give me hell for putting a patient on top of a bomb.
She and Ben walked up to the man, who was, rather surprisingly, conscious. She'd already pilfered some sort of I.D card off his person, revealing his name was Adrian, although the rest of it had been burned off during the battle. "Well, I wasn't expecting you to be awake."
"That makes two times I've caught you off guard." Adrian responded, his sass undermined by the coarse nature of his speech. "So, why didn't you kill me?"
"You weren't a threat anymore." Fairfire answered. "Besides, I think you might have some useful information."
"Ah." Adrian responded with as much of a nod as he could manage. "What is it you want to know?"
"What's your garrison here?" Fairfire asked, not expecting a response.
"It was around two-dozen, but I imagine we're in single digits by now." Adrian unexpectedly said, and he seemed to recognize her surprise. "What, didn't expect me to talk? The pay might be decent, but it ain't worth getting shot."
A paycheck only guarantees so much loyalty. Fairfire thought. "I see. Sergeant, go use your enhanced yelling capabilities and see if the enemy is interested in giving up without a fight."
"They probably will, without me, they don't have a way to fight your tanks." The man offered as Ben complied, making his way up the ridgeline. "By the way, kind of overkill."
"Thanks for the input jackass, but I don't recall asking." Fairfire said with a glare in his direction, even through her helmet, he got the message and shut his mouth. "Now, what the hell is a Huntsman, a "Defender of humanity", doing out here with these bastards?"
"I ain't a fucking Huntsman!" Adrian protested, unexpectedly violently. "I am pragmatic! I'm not a blind idiot who can't see how the world works, and I'm willing to get my hands dirty!"
"Oh yeah, how'd that work out for ya?" Fairfire asked rhetorically, but did not receive even a snarky response. "So, if you ain't a Huntsman, what the hell are you?"
"Well, back in the army, I was a Specialist, which is what they called me here." Adrian said halfheartedly. "I wasn't a licensed Huntsman, but the money was good, and it let me put my training to good use."
"I see." Fairfire thought, noting that bit of intel down for later. In the distance, she could hear Ben's voice, amplified to the volume of a megaphone by his helmet, yelling at the remaining defenders. "Well, I think that's about all I needed from you. Now sit tight, once your buddies are all rounded up, I'll send someone to drag your sorry ass out of the snow."
"Uh-huh." Adrian responded dryly.
Fairfire pulled aside a Marine to guard the prisoner and handed him the detonator for the bomb he was lying on. She gave him a brief set of instructions and left to join Ben on the ridgeline. By the time she had reached him, eight unarmed mercenaries had made it halfway towards the ridge.
"Very impressive." Fairfire said, watching as some of the Marines advanced to detain them.
"Curie did most of the talking, I just relayed the message." Ben said with a shrug. "I don't know if that's all of them."
"We'll find out." Fairfire said, keying her commlink in the process. "Alpha team, sweep the concrete structures to the East. Bravo, you're on the shaft entrance, but don't go in. Charlie, bind the prisoners and make sure that the wounded get out."
A series of confirmations from the squad leaders rang out. Ben cocked his head, obviously expecting orders.
"Go with Alpha, see if those buildings had any terminals, we'll take any intel we can get." Fairfire ordered after a moment of thought.
"Yes Sir." Ben responded.
Mantle
Alliman Surface Excavation, Primary Shaft
October 7th, 0901 Atlas Time, 2552 UNSC Military Calendar
The industrial grade elevator was clearly meant to carry multiple tonnes of valuable Dust, so a Spartan and a small team of Marines wasn't a problem for the lift to fit or carry. Low-quality lighting systems in the shaft however, meant that Ben elected to leave his helmet light on, as to keep unobstructed visibility.
"I was not expecting a mineshaft at a surface excavation site." Curie said. "Normally the two concepts are-"
"Curie, can we kindly stay on the task at hand?" Fairfire asked over the radio. She had stayed on the surface in order to maintain a secure radio connection to the Dominion, but was still in contact so far.
"You are right, I apologize." Curie replied. "This shaft leads approximately seven-hundred meters underground, although we will be stopping around five-hundred meters down."
"There's multiple stops?" Ben asked, his confusion stemmed from the fact that the controls for the lift only had two settings.
"The deepest portion of the mine was closed off due to a Centinal Infestation, publicly available information states that they are a type of Grimm known for subterranean activities." Curie explained.
"Wait, what kind of activities?" One of the Marines asked, suddenly concerned.
"They will not be a threat, Private." Curie reassured him. "Although that does not mean we will be safe, be on your guard."
"Yes Ma'am." the Marine said, beneath his feet, Ben began to feel the platform slow down.
"This is it, be ready for anything." Ben warned as the lift ground to a halt.
"Good luck Sergeant, Battlemage out." Fairfire said, cutting off her line.
The large metal doors to the lift dragged themselves out of the way, and Ben suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Ben noticed the weapon shake violently before he even noticed the wielder holding it, shaking an equal amount. He didn't fire the weapon, and Ben didn't fire his.
The man was alone, at least as far as Ben could tell, with the rest of the shaft obstructed by some kind of secondary gate. He had a set of rabbit's ears atop his head, and appeared to be severely malnourished, his baggy clothes dangling off of his body with plenty of room to spare. He appeared to be in absolute shock at the sight of the force in front of him. Behind him, Ben could see the corpses of two more Faunus, as well as the body of a mercenary with a pickaxe protruding from their chest.
They must have taken their chance to overpower the guards. Ben thought, slowly lowering his weapon. "Easy there... friend, we're here to help. Can you lower your weapon?"
The man stared blankly at him for a moment, before he dropped his weapon, which fell to the floor with a clattering sound. He tried to turn and run, but ended up falling down, landing gracelessly on his back. He made a series of panicked mumbles as he scrambled backwards, before closing his eyes, as if hoping the situation would fix itself if he wasn't looking at it.
"Oh no..." Curie quietly muttered, an unmistakable hint of pity in her voice.
Ben felt his blood quietly boil, he briefly speculated about what exactly had happened to the man, before giving a hand signal to the Marines to advance while he stayed behind. He stepped over the Atlesian-made shotgun on the ground, doing his best to ignore the gut instinct to crush the weapon beneath his boot. He took a series of slow, steady steps over towards the man, before kneeling by his side.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you." Ben said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Out of the man's mumbled response, he could vaguely make out the word "no".
"Ben, I don't think... I don't think he can hear you." Curie gently said. For a moment, Ben kneeled there, looking at the man before him, listening to his quiet whimpering.
I was never trained for a situation like this, I don't know what to do. Ben thought, desperately wracking his mind for a solution to the problem. Maybe Curie can help?
"What should I do?" Ben asked her, totally lost.
Her silence was deafening, and lasted a full second, a serious oddity for her. "I think we should leave him, and continue the mission." Curie said doubtfully. "He... isn't a threat. We need to see if anyone else is alive, and then extract them."
"Affirmative." Ben simply responded, hoping the dullness in his voice wasn't too obvious. He reached an experimental hand out to the man's shoulder, but it was as if he didn't even notice, he had become completely catatonic.
Ben made a brief detour back towards the lift, picked up the foreign shotgun off of the ground, and snapped it in half like a twig, his anger fueling his actions to the point where it felt like it took no effort. Even if the man wasn't a threat, it wouldn't be a good idea to leave him a loaded weapon. He rejoined the other Marines at the secondary gate, which was made out of large metal plates.
"Status report." Ben simply said, not caring about any of the concerned looks the Marines were giving him, evidently they had been watching.
"The door is locked from the other side." One of the Marines, a Corporal, reported. "We heard noise from the other side, but whoever is won't respond to us."
"I see." Ben said with a nod. If someone was on the other side, they couldn't blow the door off of its hinges without potentially crushing them. Ben gave the door a series of knocks, his Titanium Gauntlet making it sound more like a metal collision. "UNSC Marine Corps, open the door!"
No response came. Ben gritted his teeth, knocking again, harder this time. "If you do not open the door, we will be forced to-"
"Wait!" A muffled voice said from the other side. From the other side, the sound of chains being moved was heard, before the doors opened inwards, revealing a chilling sight.
Around a dozen Faunus stood before him, dressed in loose-fitting clothing, and looking just as malnourished as their lone guardian. Many of them had injuries, which had been awkwardly treated with whatever they had available, mainly rags. The Marines around him began to retch from a horrible smell that Ben could barely pick up on, and he immensely found a fresh wave of sympathy for the Marines.
The worst part was the bodies, there were more of them than there were survivors. It was readily apparent by the spent casings and bullet holes in the walls that a fight had transpired here, and the Slaves had paid dearly for their victory. He picked out a small number of corpses belonging to the guards, but they were far too few in number for what it had cost to kill them.
"We surrender." The apparent leader of the slaves said. She cast aside her captured shotgun, and her voice was tired and dejected.
"We're not with the SDC, we're here to rescue you." Ben bluntly replied. He could probably have been more gentle about his words, but he was eager to get their wounded out of the tunnel; they would be lucky if none of their wounds had already been infected.
I don't even want to speculate what this is going to be like for their mental health. Ben thought, although that was outside of his field of expertise. "As much as I would like to offer you further reassurance, I believe that the urgency of the situation takes priority."
The Woman, as well as the rest of the Faunus, looked at him quizzically, and took a deep breath before she finally responded. "I'm not going to turn down the chance to get out of this place. Lead the way."
"Wait." Ben said, stopping her with a raised hand as she tried to move forward. "Is this everyone?"
The woman gulped, her face shifting to one of immense regret. "Well, Everyone who..." she began, gesturing towards the massive pile of bodies behind her.
Ben gave a solemn nod. "Corporal, get them out of here. Don't forget the man we found by the entrance, and get topside. I'm going to have a look around."
"Yes Sergeant!" The Corporal acknowledged, as he began to give all of the Faunus a quick inspection. "Can everyone walk..."
Ben tuned them out as he acquired a more solid grip on his rifle, trying to reassure himself with it's familiar weight as he stepped around the corpses. Most of them still had their eyes open, staring at him, as if pleading for him to bring them back.
"Ben, what are we looking for?" Curie asked, her disturbed tone obvious.
"Survivors, I want to see if anyone's still breathing." Ben replied, his mind on autopilot as he gave a visual confirmation to all of bodies, making sure they were actually dead.
None of the slaves had survived, and most of them had been killed by gunshots. Ben was all but certain of it, even before he checked, but the last thing he wanted was to leave anyone behind, especially if they were too wounded to speak. On his way out, however, one of the guards coughed himself awake, rolling himself onto his belly.
Out of everyone to survive... Ben thought angrily, walking over to the man. The guard was reaching for his shotgun, but Ben kicked his weapon down the slope of the mine, leveling his rifle towards the man's head. "If you intend to survive, I strongly suggest you surrender."
The man gave several more coughs, followed by spitting a large amount of blood out in front of him. He didn't give an answer, but Ben could see that without a weapon, he wasn't much of a threat. He flipped the wounded guard over with his foot, and quickly realized his injuries would be fatal. His chest was covered in blood, and filled with dozens of pieces of shrapnel, including hits to his liver and lungs. He briefly considered putting the man out of his misery, but his anger kept him from doing so.
"Ben, he's suffering!" Curie protested as he began to walk away.
"I know." Ben replied,not betraying a hint of emotion. "He's not recovering from that."
"We could-" Curie began.
"Waste of ammo." Ben interrupted, far more harshly than he had intended. He took another glance around him as he reflected. "Sorry, I'm just..."
"I understand." Curie replied, her voice indicating her forgiveness at his outburst. "I feel the same way, these people..."
"There's still more to this mine." Ben pointed out, interrupting her silence. "Should we-"
"We can return with backup." Curie answered quickly. "I will admit, I find myself eager to leave."
Ben took one last look down the sloping tunnel of the mine, wondering if he would be leaving anyone else behind. He was also worried about leaving any potential holdouts of the enemy undiscovered, but in the end, he decided Curie was in the right, and turned back towards the Elevator.
"I radioed the Marines to send it back down, it should be there by the time we reach it." Curie said.
"Good foresight." Ben answered, his mind still almost on autopilot.
Curie seemed to detect his solemn nature. "Ben, I know this is difficult, but..."
"I expected this, hell, I was trained to deal with atrocities." Ben broke the silence. "I just... didn't think it would be humans doing it."
"We put a stop to it." Curie pointed out somewhat reassuringly.
Ben stopped by one of the bodies, a Faunus woman with notably reptilian horns who had been shot several times in the throat, nearly decapitating her. "Not fast enough."
"At least there were survivors." Curie pointed out. "We have not done anything wrong."
"It is possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose." Ben muttered sadly, quoting a statement he had once heard from CPO. Mendez as he boarded the lift.