Chapter Twelve: Automaton
Deep Space, Sword Assault Carrier The Servant of Recompense, December 18th, 2552…
I awoke refreshed, but with a low ache at the fading wound on my abdomen. Rising slowly from my bunk under 'Zehirae, I walked over to the opposite corner of the room to get my armor. Sitting down next to the metal rack holding up my armor, I grabbed the lower leg plates and slid them on over my jumpsuit, waiting a second for the nanolaminate armor to lock together before moving on to the two-toed boots. Pushing my foot into the opening, I waited it to fit to my foot before tightening it and putting the extra armor piece over my heel and top of my foot. Standing up once again, I hefted the two large torso pieces over my head, pushing them together under my arm. Grabbing the final pieces of armor, I slid the one regular-sized plate over my left arm, and the oversized plate on my prosthetic. Pressing the button to activate the armor's shields, I pulled the helmet over my head and turned on the HUD. Finally completed.
I walked over to the bunks again and climbed up the ladder a few steps to peek at 'Zehirae, who was out cold with his mandibles flared open. I shook his leg to get him up from his slumber. He groaned and opened one eye, closing his mandibles quickly as he looked groggily at me. Nodding wordlessly, he sat up with his avian-like legs dangling over the side of the bed before letting out a great sigh.
"I'm just guessing we should get up since I hear commotion outside the door." I explained after he shot me an annoyed stare at being woken up.
"Commotion? Oh, by the gods…" He muttered, jumping to the floor to grab his Energy Sword from a counter next to the bed, ignoring his armor completely. I trotted behind him as he walked to the wide door in only half his jumpsuit.
"What is it?" I queried, not knowing what Mizume was talking about.
"I swear, if those two survived that battle…" He spat bitterly while typing into the door's console. The door slid open to reveal two Grunts fighting over a half-charged Plasma Pistol. Noticing the half nude Field Marshal in the doorway, they froze and dropped the useless weapon.
"Field Marshal 'Zehirae! Sir!" They both squeaked in unison, standing as tall as they could. I hid a laugh behind my hand and stepped up to the Field Marshal. From the deepest parts of his throat, he uttered a low growl that could raise the hairs on the backs of anyone's necks. The two Grunts eeped and ran down the hallway in fear.
"In the name of Vaahn, why did those two have to survive the San'Shyuum attack?!" 'Zehirae said loudly after the Grunts were further down the corridor.
"'Those two?'' I asked, smiling.
"Kiyar and Miyar, twins who used to be apart of my legion."
"Mm, I won't ask why they 'were' apart of it, but I understand. They already seemed annoying." I toyed, noticing his obvious annoyance at the two. He put a hand to the top of his gray, bumpy head and shrugged.
"Used to be that every morning they would make a form of commotion outside the door. Guess they didn't get my message when I locked them in an airlock for three days." 'Zehirae said nonchalantly, getting into his armor. I laughed and grabbed my Needle Rifle and Vorpal Talon, putting them both in their respective locations on my armor. Walking into the hallway, I leaned against the outside of the door and crossed my arms as I waited for Mizume to exit the temporary quarters. He walked up next to me in full combat gear, wearing his SPARTAN-themed armor.
"So, what now?"
"We should probably go and see Fleetmaster 'Churoiya."
"You mean Fleetmaster 'Varliemai?" I asked. The Field Marshal blanched and facepalmed before turning to me.
"Yes, of course. I should not forget. 'Varliemai became his name when he was assimilated into the Varliem clan and became a Swordsman."
"Interesting."
"Even before he fully joined the Varliem, he used their surname before then to be… ready, I guess, ever since his adolescence."
"How do you know this?" I asked, curious.
"I was training to be a Swordsman myself at the great schools of Varliem when he arrived. He was older than me, but had less experience with the art of swordsmanship. It was an odd experience. And then he had his other friend, Thae- wait." He put two and two together in his mind and facepalmed again. "Now it makes sense!"
"Hm?" I wondered, completely lost now.
"'Varliemai's friend was named Thaea! An exile from the Malkam Keep!" He said, his mandibles flaring more than usual.
"I'll keep this information in mind." I said before walking down the corridor. He followed in relative silence until we reached the hangar, where we spotted The Pride of Xerxi sitting with power cords, scaffolding and dozens of technicians crowding its purplish-white hull.
"There's 'Varliemai." Mizume said, pointing to a tall figure standing behind a piece of scaffolding talking to a Skirmisher Technician. I walked over - ducking under scaffolding and live wires - to 'Varliemai and leaned against a nanolaminate panel next to him. He glanced at me, shooed away the technician, and turned to face 'Zehirae and me.
"Field Marshal, Zealot Major." He said blankly, clutching a datapad at his side. Mizume stepped forward to consult 'Varliemai.
"Fleetmaster, I know the attack only just happened, but I must know," he paused to look down at his hooves, "what is our plan now?"
"That is one of the many grand questions I've asked myself recently, and my answer put simply is… I don't know." He said, his face falling in obvious defeat. 'Zehirae nodded and put a hand to 'Varliemai's shoulder. "I have put together every single outcome that I could think of that involves attacking the enemy directly that doesn't involve sending my precious few men aboard those Supercarriers, and all of them end with us being eliminated completely."
"I'll go." I said firmly, stepping forward with a confident stride. The tone of the conversation rose when I stepped forwards, and 'Varliemai looked at me as if conflicted.
"Why? You would not risk your life for an alien cause. It does not benefit you in any way."
"If I had had that mindset, I wouldn't even be here right now, I would've just killed myself back in the shack on Indicative and never joined you." I paused for a moment to regather my thoughts. "I volunteer to go because I'm not one of your men. I have no connections with pretty much all of your soldiers, and I have nothing to go back to with the UNSC. If I'm going to do something to help the Swords of Sanghelios, I'll do this."
"A noble speech, my friend. But you have it all wrong. It has only been a few days since you first joined us on The Servant of Recompense, but while most of our forces don't know you personally, yes, there are those… select few that do, and we would not want to lose you." Mizume said, looking at me calmly.
"Lose me? I could do this easily. Infiltration was my top subject in combat class." I replied, raising an eyebrow at 'Zehirae. The Fleetmaster sighed and put his hands behind his back.
"Zealot Major, the ship you are planning to infiltrate is guarded by over a million soldiers. And there are three. The only feasible way to destroy the ship is from within, and that means destroying to core. If those Supercarriers are built anything like a normal one, the space between the core and any way off the ship is too far for you to go before the core explodes. Whoever embarks on this mission is not coming back." 'Varliemai clarified, taking one hand from behind his back to set the datapad he was holding on a nearby crate before resuming his original position.
"Then I'll die fighting for a good cause." The others were silent as I said this.
"I cannot allow you to do that."
"Why?"
"Because you are young. Unlike us, who have lived many decades surrounded by war, you are quite young. I might not be as old as others, but I only have thirty years left for me. You, on the other hand, have seventy, maybe eighty years. You are at a good age, Rey-nhardhz. You need to keep living." 'Varliemai said, having trouble pronouncing my last name. I smiled and nodded, before putting my hand on 'Varliemai's arm.
"I was made to die. That's the point of a SPARTAN, Fleetmaster." I said, accepting the harsh reality of it. My life, technically, was only just beginning. At the ripe age of twenty-two, I could be doing anything I want had I been a civilian, but that's not my life. I am a SPARTAN, made to protect people and to sacrifice themselves to uphold that if need be. They may not be humans, but they are damn well my friends.
"Sir! Fleetmaster! 'Karus and I might've just found a new exit point for escaping the San'Shyuum Supercarriers!" An Elite Minor yelled, jogging up while holding a projector with a 3D model of the picture we had captured on The Pride of Xerxi. Quickly setting down the projector on a crate, the Elite looked to us for confirmation to continue. Mizume nodded, and the Elite kneeled next to the model.
"If the San'Shyuum Supercarriers are built like regular ones, the cores should be here." The Elite said slowly, pointing to the exposed keel of the massive starship.
"Of course, we have already come to this conclusion." 'Varliemai breathed impatiently, annoyed at the leisurely speed the other Elite was taking.
"Yes, but here's something we found. We found these black lines right near the core room!" He paused to tilt the model and point to the blurry lines. "Now, the ship has over a million soldiers aboard it, right?" 'Zehirae nodded. "That means that there has to be enough escape pods for them to escape! We can assume that these lines are all escape pods, if the cores are guarded on that ship with as much zeal as we do here."
"An assumption, simply, but a good one." I commented, sliding a finger underneath my helmet to scratch my head. I froze, however, when I got an idea.
"What is it, human?" The Elite Minor asked, mildly worried.
"What if we lure them in?"
"What?!" The Fleetmaster and the Field Marshal exclaimed in unison.
"Okay, okay, okay, calm down. Now I have a question; what do you use to track your ships at long range, when both radar and sonar is useless?"
"Simple, we use long range transmitters." 'Varliemai said, looking at me questioningly.
"Transmitters… are they removable?"
"R-removable? Why would you ever need to do that?" 'Zehirae queried.
"We can get much better models and intel if we scan them at close range, yes?"
"Of course."
I smiled smugly and turned to 'Varliemai for what I was about to say.
"Then we send a ship into deep space to lay out the detached transmitters in that quadrant and light 'em up. We have one person stay floating in space with a scanner, and we can scan the Supercarriers as they try to attack the ships that aren't there! And then, as soon as they either A, destroy all the transmitters and leave, or B, just give up and leave, we can send in the same ship that laid out the transmitters to pick up the person." I said, catching my breath after I said it. For a good thirty seconds, 'Varliemai stared at me, and I wasn't sure what his reaction was with his emotionless expression.
"If I were commanding back when the armada was with its full strength, I would have scoffed and sent you away for even suggesting a plan that stupid. But now is not then, and I must say that the plan you just devised is probably the best course of action right now." He looked away, at the rest of the hangar, and gazed over his tired men for a second. "We need to have intel if we are to send someone into one of those carriers."
"Agreed." Mizume said, standing taller than 'Varliemai in his advanced armor. The Fleetmaster nodded and leaned against the hull of The Pride of Xerxi, taking the moment to let out a long sigh.
"On another note, what is the status of the human fleet that was with us?" I asked, curious as to the whereabouts of the UNSC ships.
"Something I discussed with the Strike Leader last night… the humans left as soon as the San'Shyuum attacked."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes. Originally, I had thought that they left to regroup, but I have sent multiple messages to Thel 'Vadam to be relayed to your high command, and no response from your kind has been sent back. 'Vadam is also curious on this situation, and has asked me to question you about it." 'Varliemai clarified, looking down on me. I thought for a moment before turning back.
"It is unlike any commander I have seen to back away from a fight to defend his allies. My only idea would be that fighting against the San'Shyuum would somehow break the treaty." The Fleetmaster seemed to snap at this.
"I don't care about the damned treaty! If they hadn't left, half my men would be still alive!" 'Varliemai bellowed, punching into the nanolaminate plate next to him. I winced and looked away, sympathizing. It didn't matter whether it was breaking the treaty - there were at least a billion Sword soldiers dead, and at least half of them could still be alive if the UNSC hadn't pulled away. MAC guns could've easily fended off the Supercarriers long enough for the ships to escape… unless…
"Fleetmaster, back when the Covenant still reigned supreme, were the San'Shyuum working on remote-controlled starships?"
"Yes, of course. With the touch of a finger, a prophet could take control of any starship, no matter if it was fitted with the technology or not."
"What?" I gasped.
"A prophet could control a whole fleet if he wanted to, all from the safe comfort of his throne."
"Those Supercarriers! If they are San'Shyuum in origin, that could mean that they simply took control of the UNSC ships and made them jump out!"
"That… is a possibility." 'Varliemai said, before slowly sitting down on the ground.