"You know what I like about the UNSC?" asked Dr. Greeves as he continued to monitor the consoles screen where the numerous data packets from their experiments at Black Site 09 were taking place. His lab was one of many, and his research team… with the busty ginger Martha… were also one of… as these thoughts lingered through Greeves mind his eyes darted back and forth to Martha's cleavage while she stood next to him, pushing her chest into his back.
It was hard to ignore her, whether it be because of her… impressive curves… or because of her brilliant mind… Greeves was uncertain as to which was more impressive as she breathed humid air upon his neck…. All he had to do with was finish his shit… this last series of experiments… and then Dr. Kelmer and Assistant Jacobs would take over. If he could just make it without incident… if he could just toddle back to his ONI sponsored habitat module for a long cold shower.
Black Site 09 wasn't like the others… the UNSC under ONI supervision were using this abandoned mining colony as a research instillation… on 'The Flood.' No one outside of ONI's top brass and a few well paid freighter crews knew that they were here… or so he thought.
"WARNING! Slipspace anomaly detected!" blared the base intercom as sirens as red klaxons suddenly showered light and sound across the laboratory. Both Greeves and Martha stood stunned and silent as several loud trembling proximity explosions rattled the mining habitat.
Oxygen pipes and water valves blew in the research module causing both scientists to flee the room as secondary oxygen seals clamped down to isolate the modules internal ventilation. Outside, numerous ODST in black body armor, sporting ONI Deathshead emblems upon their right shoulders, ran towards unknown problems in a nearby adjacent habitat. Greeves could hear sporadic gunfire as heavy metal security doors came down with hydraulic swooshes, closing off the damaged habitat from their own.
They were Elite ONI Shock Troops, second only to the Spartans… and yet they were clearly rattled as the atmospheric doors automatically sealed them in with some sort of unknown enemy. In fact, Greeves saw one of them, a black blur which came at one of the ODST's and sliced him open like a hung pig, red blood splattering across the small glass viewing slit of the massive security door.
Another series of close proximity explosions rattled the base with seismic tremors. Greeves rushed to the nearest monitor window showing the exterior of the base.
This was a lunar habitat sitting on top of several large assembled lab facilities moving down a vertical mining shaft. Just above the edge of the highest partition where the stars met the grey rock of the lifeless lunar moon… Greeves saw them… two large and unknown UNSC Cruisers firing upon the base. Just as he caught this brief glimpse, the metal security shutters to the windows activated and slid into place. Oxygen hissed from their seams as the concussive impacts from the firing salvos blew out the compressed glass of the habitat. Luckily, the shutters held… and both Greeves and Martha remained unharmed.
"Now hear this!" yelled another voice over the intercom, "Black Site 09 has been invaded by unknown hostiles! We are now at Condition Red! All lab personal report to combat shelters and all military personal move to you active stations! This is not a drill!"
Greeves grabbed Martha's hand and pulled-dragged her in tow, "Hurry… this way!" he yelled, she was surprised but obeyed as they both started to run towards the nearest security shelter where all the other lab personal on this level would be taking shelter.
He couldn't help but look back, her rather impressive bust bouncing with each jog, and those denim jeans riding up her… Greeves bit his upper lip to burn the images from his mind as another explosion shook the station.
This one was nearby and it blew a twenty meter large hole through the solid metal casing of the habitat module. Oxygen briefly vented from the chamber and abruptly stopped as some sort of seal gripped a large metal pod to the side of the lunar station.
Seconds later, ten ONI ODST ran into the corridor and surrounded the docking pod with raised MA5B Assault Rifles. Many of these men and women took up defensive positions behind overturned crates and tables as the life pod breeched inward with a violent explosion. Smoke and fire bleached the air in a haze as several rapidly moving humans poured into the station… weaving through the ODST bullets like phantoms.
They closed ranks in a blur and butchered the human defenders with sidearms and knives. Greeves stood frozen in place with Martha using him as a shield. He watched, unable to move, as another person descended unto the lunar station.
He was… Greeves eyes widened with surprise as this creatures golden armor greeted his visage, "A Jackle," he said in a hushed whisper as four armed men, the same armed men who had so easily butchered the ODST's lying at his feet, came to his side, flanking him to the left and right.
"Hatford Greeves," said one of them with a static ridden voice, while quickly checking the lab technician's photo lab ID upon his left breast. Another one of these men quickly continued, "Primary objective completed Commander. We have the VIP."
"What about the girl? She's seen too much," said another.
"Kill her," replied the Jackle, flatly and without emotion.
Martha grabbed at Greeves as two of the armored humans pulled her away, her fingernails breaking skin as she screamed and kicked for help. Another one of these men restrained him with a hand to his shoulder as his compatriots rounded the corner, Martha in tow.
"Mr… Greeves," spoke the golden armored Jackle. There was a brief sharp scream and some gunfire around the corner. Shortly thereafter the soldiers silently returned, "My employer has decided to renegotiate your current government contract…."
"Your employer?" he asked ashen faced. Was it because these men just wastefully shot Martha, and the loss to his libido was just now sinking in, or was it because these people had not only the gull but also the capability to face down both ONI and the UNSC without breaking a sweat? Greeves didn't know for certain, but what came next did suddenly surprise him.
"Commander?" spoke a voice through the Jackles coms, "We've successfully stolen the bio-weapons from storage and cloned this facilities data store. Secondary Targets have also all been obtained. We are now ready to progress to Stage 2 on your order."
"Good… proceed…"
"Stage 2?" asked Greeves. The Jackle eyed him with humor before speaking, "We're going to destroy this station to cover up our involvement. You're lucky… that we need you alive."
"Alive? Alive for what?" he demanded.
"To finish your little bio weapon… Ms. Marquett has big plans for it."
"What Bio-weapon?" Greeves eyes widened in horror as he processed what this creature was saying, "We aren't making weapons here. This is just a research station…"
Something suddenly cracked against the back of his skull, a rifle barrel; Greeves tumbled to the ground in a haze. Slowly, the Jackle knelled and leaned into his face before speaking, "What you are creating here will be an excellent bio-weapon when we are done with it… a perfect bio-weapon… to frame the UNSC."
Greeves started to black out as his arms were tugged upward and two of his captors started to tow him away. Unbeknownst to him in these fading seconds… he was one of eight survivors from a sudden asteroid strike upon Black Site 09s lunar surface which had, unfortunately, destroyed the entire station… and every other remaining soul therein. This included the data storehouse and several containers of flood spores… which were incinerated in the resulting kinetic contact explosion.
…
"They're called Immortals," said BB, as he reported to Admiral Osman while she sat in her command chair aboard the UNSC Port Stanley. She was sipping tea… with a hint of ginger to ease her troubled stomach, "Apparently, Ms Marquett was using them in a…" BB stopped briefly to find the politically correct term for, 'hunt,' "Demonstration, that Lt Carmichael unfortunately participated in."
"How is he handling it?" she asked, more concerned for Carmichaels well being after having lost most of his assault team following what was supposed to be a rather easy mission. The collateral damage she could handle logistically, but the mental damage to a talented commander… that was much more difficult.
BB tilted to his left and then leveled off, a digital representation of avoiding eye contact, which was funny because he was the ship so eye contact was pointless, "He's grieving, but mentally stable. I think Saros 412's face being splattered against his chest really got to him emotionally. He'll be fine… in time."
"That's good to hear," said Osman, genuinely content by that answer, "So, what do we know about these 'Immortals," she asked while interlocking her fingers before her chin in power a pose.
"Based upon what information we were able to recover from the mission data recorders aboard the Spartans armors, whose survivors were luckily retrieved… these Indie Spartans, these 'Immortals' as they call them, are much faster with similar reflex speeds to the Spartan II's, but they aren't as well equipped or… by appearance… as strong. Considering how the fire fight went down, it would seem as the demonstration was intentionally stacked in their favor. If any Spartan fireteam whether it be Spartan II, III, or IV; had encountered a squad of Immortals in say… an urban combat situation… the fight would have ended MUCH differently."
"So, the threat they pose is proportional to how well they can utilize their stealth and speed?" she asked while firmly grasping the tactical situation.
"Yes." Replied BB flatly.
"And what of Val Frankton, the Vid-Com Vice Chairman who was reporting to us?" ONI had numerous spies on Indigo Seven, but Val Frankton was highly placed and had actually attended the meeting where Ms Marquett revealed her new toys. Ever since then… Osman had secretly feared for the man's life less he be discovered by the potential rebels.
"Admiral," said BB mournfully, "Val Frankton was found dead three hours ago in his penthouse hotel room from a narcotic overdose. We are still investigating, but all indications point towards this merely being a coincidence rather than a blatant murder."
Osman went silent, and quickly regained her composure, "What about the other spies we have on Indigo Seven?"
"Still operational. Val Frankton is the only KIA... thus far."
The ONI Admiral bit her lower lip out of frustration. Was Val Frankton's death an actual accident or merely cleverly concealed murder? And, if it was murder then how many of her other ONI spies had been uncovered? How many could be compromised? How bad could the damage be if Ms. Marquett decided to clean house? That witch had to know that she was being watched by now, so was this her first move against the UNSC?
"BB," said Osman… "How soon can we get a Wet Work Team into position?"
The AI processed a few logistics in the blink of an eye and responded, "I can have a fully operable Wet Work Team in position at Indigo Seven in four days…"
Osman eyed him with a strange mixture of nervousness and anger, "Do it, we need to kill Ms Marquett before she causes anymore mayhem. Make sure that a group of Spartans are on this team as well… and that they know about the Immortals…"