Chapter 9 – Captivus
(6th Cycle, 26 Units - Covenant Battle Calendar), 9th Age of Reclamation
Epsilon Eridani System, In Atmosphere over human world of Reach
Aboard SDV-class Corvette Holy Dispersion
:********:
Zin was terrified.
He hated himself for it too. Where was that bravery he was so proud of now? No matter how many lies he told himself, the tightness with which he gripped his plasma pistol wasn't out of anger or courage. It was fear. He was afraid to die, plain and simple. Except avoiding death wouldn't be so simple, at least not anymore.
He was in the hangar bay when he heard the shipmaster's announcement. He was with his freight crew trying to help their calmer Sangheili counterparts setup defensive barricades when they heard a rainfall of loud impacts from above. There were a few explosions as well though not anywhere near enough to make them think they were missiles. The humans had landed on the Dispersion itself. The sound of their impacts confirmed the shipmaster's claim about hundreds of drop pods. It didn't help Zin's nerves nor that of his freight crew however. There was a rising panic amongst the two dozen Unggoy that Zin himself was hardly in a position to address. In the end, it took the arrival of Major Rydo Tevumee to settle them back down, making a rousing speech that was as inspirational as it was long.
"Remember who you should fear, Unggoy! I am a greater threat to you than the humans! They can kill you once they get in here but I can kill you now, so quiet yourselves and listen!"
And they did so. Tevumee's tone held such a sufficient warning that he didn't even need to pull out his sword. His presence alone helped to reorganize the resolute veterans and anxious novices of the Sangheili hangar guards, the loner Kig-Yar as well as the hive-minded Yanme'e that sometimes served as engineers. By his orders he pulled together the efforts of the crew to fortify the bay, putting down whatever fortifications and emplacements were needed. However, there was one group that was missing from those assembled at the bay. Zin suspected that Tevumee was aware of this and purposefully held off from calling on their help. That hesitance to call them, or resistance to doing so didn't last long. It quickly changed once reports came in that the humans had breached several spots along the ship, including most worryingly the energy barrier at the dorsal landing pad. Most of them had gathered there and it wouldn't be long before they flooded through the whole ship.
Hearing the news of the breaches in distant parts of the Dispersion, Tevumee decided he needed 'that' group after all. Moreover, he needed a messenger to go and call them up, preferably someone he didn't mind getting killed in the process. Of course, he made his selection from the Unggoy freight crew and of these he chose the most reliable.
Sometimes, perhaps this time more than any other, Zin hated being reliable.
Ugug opted to go with him as company and none else. That was no surprise there. There was little love lost between the free-time loving freight crew and the boss who always kept them on task. If anything, they were more concerned for Ugug. A few even tried and failed to talk him out of tagging along. He was the source of their fun, the one who helped them enjoy their short lives just a little more than they would otherwise. With no guarantee that they would ever get another infusion dealer who sold their goods at such low prices, they were worried to see him go. There was no telling what mood the Jiralhanae would be in once they got there, whether murderous or passive aggressive bordering on compliant.
Zin betted on the latter. The Jiralhanae tended to be easier to get along with when they weren't hungry, especially when they were satisfied from eating delicacies like their native thorn beast. Though human wasn't exactly 'native' or 'thorn beast', it was a delicacy for them. Certainly, after having picked their teeth clean of Zander they would be more than willing to hear him out.
With plasma pistols and a pair of plasma grenades each, the two of them set out from the hangar. They waddled down the passageways of the ship which had become a more challenging task than before. The bowels of the corvette were filled to bursting with defenses. There were several barricades for every passage, plasma turrets for every corridor and even a few anti-infantry shade turrets setup around intersecting hallways, allowing for mutually supporting fields of fire. It was a death trap and Zin and Ugug had to do everything in their power not to set it off.
They moved slowly to let the Sangheili warriors in charge of the different positions recognize them and let them through. Still, the Kig-Yar among them often took a disconcertingly longer time to lower their weapons. They watched the Unggoy as they passed. The looks in their beady eyes let them know that if it weren't for the presence of the Sangheili...
They reached the corridor that descended to the brig and found the entrance unguarded. The pair of Sangheili guards that normally protected it must have been sent somewhere else. That was Zin's first thought before he stepped through the doors with Ugug.
The brig wasn't as quiet as it was during their last visit. There were shouts and growls. Zin looked across the second floor and found all the Jiralhanae on the walkways were standing still, their focus on something below. Their sheer rigidness stopped him in his tracks. There was a tension in the air, so much so that he could almost smell it from the pungent musk of the jailers. He dared to venture towards the nearest railings and looked down to see what had trapped their attention.
There was a commotion in the courtyard of the ground floor. The two guards who he expected to find at the doors were instead here. One was standing off to the side, plasma rifle in hand. The other was arguing with the warden in front of a line of cells on the right side of the brig. It didn't take a genius to understand why the atmosphere was so tense. The cells held imprisoned Sangheili. There were several of them with one to a cell. They were standing up, waiting, listening to the conversation. So were the majority of the jailers, the warden's packmates who stood nearby or at a distance. Some pretended to patrol the other cells while most stayed put. All were watching the argument unfold, their postures erect, their hands never straying far from the spike rifles on their persons.
"I said release them." The Sangheili guard insisted. "Don't you understand that?"
The warden crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I do not. I have no orders from your shipmaster to let these out."
"There is no time. The shipmaster's attention is elsewhere. These warriors-"
"Cowards." The warden corrected, earning a look of ire from the one arguing in their favor.
"These warriors are willing and able to lend their bodies and their lives to the service of our Covenant. Let them go so that they can redeem themselves against these humans. You will not call them cowards then."
Both of them glanced at the Sangheili prisoners who, despite their nakedness, looked back with hardened resolve.
"So, you wish to put me and my pack in a worse position than we already are?" The warden asked, glowering at the guard. "And with no consequences for yourselves, is that right?"
"Release them. It is an order."
"Who are you to order me to do anything?" The warden growled, smiling at him like he would at a small, arrogant child. "An order from an inferior won't do any good here."
The Sangheili growled as well and did the unthinkable, raising his plasma rifle to the Jiralhanae's face.
"Let...them...out."
To the warden's credit he didn't even flinch. His smile, however, disappeared and with it went any sign of cordiality. Zin was tempted to run right then, to grab Ugug and flee back through the doors. Yet the scene was so unexpected that he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle.
Now the brig was filled with the sounds of the other jailers drawing their own weapons on the two guards. They forced the other Sangheili to cover them with his rifle as he looked to his brother with worry.
The warden looked past the weapon aimed at his face and into the eyes of the wielder. "And what will you do if I say 'no'?"
"Then there will be one more corpse on the floor before the day is out."
At this, the warden laughed heartily. "Don't you mean two?"
"What?"
The Jiralhanae chieftain pointed at his comrade. "You and your 'brother' there."
The guard peered over at his fellow, grimacing at the insult. Then the two shared a knowing glance before he refocused on the object of his scorn. "You will let them out."
All eyes, that of the Kig-Yar, Unggoy, Jiralhanae and Sangheili, free as well as imprisoned, watched the hand of the warden slowly reach behind him, as if preparing a blow. But instead of forming a fist for a punch, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the colossal gravity hammer on his back.
Zin felt the urge to run burning in his stomach. Still, fear pinned him in place. Out the corner of his eye he saw Ugug watching from beside him in a similar state of paralysis.
The warden leaned towards the plasma rifle aimed at his head. "Do it."
"Why won't you just-"
"Do it! You've already gone this far." The warden's smile returned; this time more voracious and provocative than impatient. "Will you draw your weapon without drawing blood? I would hope not. Do it or you will be no less a coward than those you came to free."
A sharp silence followed that permeated the entire brig. Every prisoner was watching closely along with the two unnoticed passerby.
Then the guard slowly lowered his rifle. "What is a coward other than a warrior that has more to prove than the brave?"
The warden's smile faded into a confused scowl. "What're you-"
Without warning, the guard raised his rifle not at the warden or at the other Jiralhanae but at the nearby cells. "Prove it then!"
A burst of plasma went out and struck the control panel of one of the cells. The device erupted in fizzling sparks and the energy barrier dropped, freeing the surprised prisoner inside.
The warden howled.
In a furious motion he whipped out his hammer and swung it overhead. The guard barely rolled aside before its metal head arced down, crushing the floor where he'd stood. The thunderous pressure wave launched him back. He crashed into the exterior wall of the cells, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Wheezing, he quickly recovered enough to fire several bursts at the warden.
The brig was set alight.
Each of the jailers discharged their weapons, sending a concentrated barrage of yellow-hot spikes at the other guard. But amidst the swarm of spikes that shattered off his faltering shields, the guard in turn took aim at something else: a glowing device embedded in the wall near one of the entrances. The brig's energy terminal.
He fired a long stream of plasma into it, scoring and searing its surface. His last few bolts sliced through its protective casing. The vulnerable components within were blown apart before his shields failed and subjected him to death from all sides.
All at once the energy barriers on every cell dissipated.
The warden roared. Recovering from his swing, he crouched and leapt at the last guard, reeling his hammer far over his shoulder, bellowing in the face of the plasma that battered his shields. His rage guided his next swing which his quarry proved too slow to dodge. Instead of the hammer came the curved blade that broke through energy shielding to slice the gun-hand clean off the wrist. The Sangheili's cry never escaped his mandibles as the blade arced up into his neck, ripping into his throat and slamming him into the wall. There he was pinned, gagging and gasping for breath as he tried to push away the weapon with a hand that was there and a hand that wasn't. For his efforts, the warden drove the blade in deeper, threatening a decapitation. The guard's struggles ebbed but persisted. Then taking a step back, the warden whirled around, tossing the guard with enough force to slide the blade free so that his prey tumbled across the floor.
The other jailers cheered and howled victoriously across the brig, baying for more.
The lone guard found some strength to raise himself up if only to get his bloodied head off the floor. The warden lumbered towards him with a gleeful anger that gleamed in his eyes. A lifetime of restrained frustration and rage was now free to exact a cost on those who had finally set it off. The hammer was raised for an overhead swing.
It swung back but never forward as a hand caught it by the handle.
Confused, the warden rounded on the culprit and found a fist waiting for him. The powerful punch knocked his head back though his grip on the hammer never wavered. He stumbled yet refused to let go, roaring into the face of the Sangheili prisoner that now wrestled with him for his weapon.
The other prisoners of his kind rushed out from their cells and into the fray. Two of them grabbed the rifles of their fallen brothers to spray plasma at the jailers. The Jiralhanae returned fire though they quickly found themselves facing a bigger problem than the freed Sangheili.
The downed energy terminal had lowered the barriers on every cell. Now, every prisoner was free and it took them less than a moment to realize it. Within seconds, the brig burst wide open with dozens of Kig-Yar, Unggoy and even several more Sangheili that gushed out from their cells. There was a flurry of motion in the courtyard and on the walkways as the prisoners made a break for the exits. Many of the less fortunate were removed from the flood of escapees. The jailers plucked them away by the head or by the throat to batter them into submission. Others shot at the passing throngs at point-blank range.
Searing blue plasma and bright yellow spikes were traded across the brig as Sangheili prisoners began overwhelming the jailers and using their own weapons against them. Stray plasma bolts struck fleeing Unggoy in the chest. Kig-Yar collapsed mid-stride from the spikes that lodged themselves in the back of their skulls.
From the relative safety of one of the entrances on the second floor, Zin stood dumbstruck. Ugug was no better. Neither of them was sure what to do. Their orders were to get the Jiralhanae to come fight alongside the Sangheili in the hangar. Now they were doing the exact opposite.
Footsteps caught Zin's attention. To his right, a slew of Unggoy and Kig-Yar were surging down the walkway towards them, or more specifically, towards the doors behind them. Another commotion drew his eye to the walkway on their left. There an Unggoy had jumped out of his cell and onto the back of a passing jailer. Zin recognized him as a member of his freight crew and one of Ugug's biggest infusion clients. Having been arrested for erratic behavior, he had lunged out of his incarceration without any gas mask. He was psychotic, raving mad, his drug-addled mind infused beyond all hope of recovery as he opened his slobbering mouth to bite into the Jiralhanae's neck.
The jailer howled in pain but responded swiftly, grabbing his spike rifle to thrust the pair of barrel-mounted blades into his jugular. If the Unggoy felt pain, he refused to show it and burrowed his teeth even deeper into the jailer's neck. His victim gasped in agony before pulling out his rifle. He pressed the barrel into his attacker's head and fired off a volley that impaled the freight worker from temple to temple. The Unggoy's frenzied actions died off though he refused to release his bite.
As the prisoners reached the last stretch of walkway before the exit, the Jiralhanae took aim at the incoming crowd, a difficult task with a dead body still clinging to him. Then he spotted Zin and Ugug. Zin saw him shift his aim. He immediately whirled around, grabbed Ugug by the gas tank and pushed them both back through the doors, barely avoiding the stream of spikes that hissed down the walkway.
The two of them stumbled into the safety of the outside corridor. Zin heard pained squawks and squeals as the doors slid shut behind them. Not wanting to see what would happen if they stayed put, Zin helped his friend to his feet.
"Did you get hit?" He asked.
Ugug was too shocked to answer right away. He eventually shook his head, trembling as he did.
Zin sighed with relief. He looked back down the corridor in the direction they had come from. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Ugug peered back at the doors. "Bu-, but what about-"
"What about'em?" Zin asked, turning Ugug back around. "They're killing each other back there. You want to get killed too?"
Again, another slow shake of the head.
"Then come on, let's head back."
"But we can't. The major, what'll he say if we come back and they're not with us. He'll kill us, Zin. We're dead if we go back now."
"And we're just as dead if we go back in there."
"There's got to be a way. We-"
The doors opened. They instinctively rushed to the side of the passageway as two unarmored Sangheili came through. One was helping the other to walk. The latter limped on a leg pierced with spikes from knee to heel. They took no notice of the two Unggoy and passed them by. A third Sangheili stepped through a carpet of Kig-Yar corpses to cross the threshold. He was holding the deceased body of an Unggoy prisoner against return fire from further in the brig. He cast it aside once he passed the doors and ran after his comrades into the depths of the ship.
Zin and Ugug watched the body land near them. Their fellow Unggoy was covered from head to toe in spikes, his jaw locked open in a silent scream.
"See!?" Zin pointed to the body. "We can't go in there!"
However, rather than anything Ugug had to say, it was a rebuke from his own conscience that changed his mind.
Where was his courage now? He realized he was thinking in the exact same way that everyone who looked down on his kind said he would think. In horror, he found himself living up to expectations the he swore to prove wrong. He didn't want to die, he wanted to live. But Ugug had a point. If they went back without the reinforcements they were sent for then they certainly would die. Tevumee had promised as much. However, if they went inside before things simmered down then they might die that way too.
"We can't go in, at least...not right now."
Ugug turned to him, expecting an explanation that he was hard-pressed to give.
"They're shooting this way so we'll find another way in and come back once things calm down. It's our only option. If the Jiralhanae still don't want to listen then..."
Ugug nodded in grim understanding. "I'll come with you."
Behind his mask, Zin smiled. He gestured for Ugug to follow him back down the corridor. They dashed away, hoping perhaps beyond hope that patience would restore the Jiralhanae to some degree of reason. Either it would or it wouldn't. When blood was being spilt between the crew there was nothing that could be said for certain. Only time would tell.
:********:
The corvette's defenders were a handful. After landing in the comm center, the first four platoons to rope inside found themselves in the middle of an ambush. Before that however, the environment itself became a problem. Right away the Staff noticed the flaws of their new position.
The comm center lay directly beneath the entrance to the landing pad. It was a wide, circular compartment, three stories tall. A similarly shaped platform stood at its center, lying just beneath a support beam that spanned the full width of the compartment. Around the platform were stationed four mirror-like communications stations. Their honeycomb-patterned screens were broken into odd light refractions thanks to the blue blood that covered their projectors. Several Grunts, Jackals and Elites lay where they had died around the platform. There were twice as many lying on the ground floor beneath, victims of the snipers' methodical lethality. Little did anyone know that there were more of them waiting out of sight.
As the ODSTs roped down to the platform as well as the ground floor, they were met with heavy return fire. From the handful of balconies that lined the second floor of the comm center emerged a gathering of the ship's crew. Elites, Jackals and Grunts stepped forward to fire down upon the troopers below and those on the platform. They spared no expense with needle rifles, plasma repeaters and even a few fuel rod guns, the latter of which proved the most troublesome.
The troopers on the ground floor scrambled for cover behind layers of Covenant ammunition crates and triple-fronted defense barriers. Their newfound protection appeared to have been in the process of being hastily setup before their arrival. Those who originally laid them down had failed to get them in place in time. Incidentally, it left those they were meant to be used against to instead implore them as their own protection.
Those troopers atop the central platform were put in an even worse situation. Finding themselves in a crossfire from all directions, they didn't last very long. In the first few seconds of the ambush, several of them keeled over from plasma bolts to the side, needle rounds to the spine or, more mercifully, the back of the head.
Behind one of the platform's support pillars, the Staff gritted his teeth as he finished reloading his DMR, having already spent 15 rounds on the Elite that kept him pinned.
"Ep-2, you ready!?"
At his back, Nova slapped a fresh magazine into her assault rifle and ripped back the charging handle. "Ready!"
"Ep-4, 7!?"
Behind an adjacent support pillar, Hector and Zack were bracing themselves against the oncoming fire. They gave their squad leader a thumbs-up.
The Staff peeked out towards the balcony ahead. Two Elites were discharging plasma repeaters at ODST positions. A third stood between them with a fuel rod gun in hand, using it to belch emerald comets of death at the barricades below. The hostile trio, like those on the other balconies, were harder to hit for the snipers on the landing pad. It showed in the way the constant rounds from above kept landing short of their targets.
Finally, the fuel rod gun ran out of ammo. The Elite stopped to load a rack of five glowing rods into the back of the weapon.
"Now!"
The Staff, Nova, Hector and Zack wheeled out to cover the Elite in full and semi-automatic fire. In an instant its shields popped before the onslaught knocked it back a step. Wincing, it tried to dash for cover. The Staff zeroed in just before it could get away and blew a hole through the side of its head, sending its corpse spiraling out of sight. The personal shields of its two partners flared as well. One of them fell back while the last held its ground, exchanging fire with a squad of emerging ODSTs. Its bravado earned it an unclean death as it was drilled full of bullets, tumbling off the balcony to the floor in a bloody heap.
A plasma grenade shot out from somewhere beyond the balcony and landed amidst a pair of troopers. The two barely got a chance to leap aside only to be catapulted away by the thunderous explosion. One of them landed near Yuri. He pulled him away behind the safety of a defense barrier while Mito and Daz poured returns into the balcony.
"Get a grenade in there!" The Staff ordered.
Like a responsive meerkat, Reznik peeked out from behind an ammo crate to pop a 40-millimeter from his grenade launcher. The projectile whistled over the lip of the balcony and bounced into the passageways beyond it. Its detonation was met with several high-pitched screams as the Grunts hiding there were sent flying.
"WOOOOoooo!" Reznik cheered. "How about another one!?"
To answer him a burst of needlers struck the ground at his boots, forcing him back behind the crate.
A group of shield-bearing Jackals issued from a ground floor passageway. They stopped on the border of the comm center to form a phalanx a dozen strong. Simultaneously, other Jackals did the same in several other surrounding corridors. Sealing off the exits, they assailed the platoons with a storm of green bolts and pink needles. Returns from the troopers ricocheted off their shields. The ODSTs weren't able to concentrate on any one group as replies came quickly from other Jackals, creating mutually supporting fields of fire between the phalanxes.
The Staff ducked down as plasma seared his support pillar anew. Beside him, Nova took out a frag and tossed it at the nearest phalanx, aiming to land it behind them. But the Jackals saw it coming. They moved back to form a semicircle. The move caused the frag to land in front of their shields before it went off. As their defenses were peppered with shrapnel, they barely got a chance to realize their mistake. The maneuver had exposed parts of their flanks.
Dalton, Berlin and those closer to the passageway quickly exploited it. They aimed out from their defense barriers to tear into their sides, riddling the most exposed. The formation fell apart as several Jackals dropped to the floor. Those who remained ran past their fallen kin to regroup. They overlapped their shields and fired back in a fighting retreat. The ODSTs harassed them with more concentrated fire that strained their shields to the breaking point.
They could have succeeded were it not for arriving reinforcements that marched on the second floor, more shielded Jackals backed up by Elites. Similar groups appeared across the upper floor to hurl down an extra helping of plasma on those below. The ODSTs retreated once more behind their cover, some proving insufficient and crumbling before the overwhelming suppression fire.
"They just keep coming!" Hector hissed.
On the comms, the voice of the colonel came through. "Neptune-Actual to 3-Actual, get a few launchers! We need some smoke down here!"
The commander of Bravo's 3rd Platoon replied worriedly. "You sure, sir!? That'll reduce visibility down to zero!"
"I know! I'm counting on it!"
After a revelatory pause, the captain answered. "On it, sir!"
"Troopers!" Garrison called. "Switch to your VISRs!"
The platoons understood the mind of their colonel and did as ordered, activating their threat identification software. Meanwhile above them, the snipers on the lip of the entrance withdrew to make way for ODSTs armed with grenade launchers. They unleashed a bombardment of 40-millimeter grenades into the space below. The projectiles filled the comm center with the sizzling hisses of their passing. They bounced from the ground floor and off the bridges of the central platform, flying into the faces of the enemy.
Explosions filled the compartment with light and smoke.
The smoke grenades lived up to their namesake, erupting in a vaporous blast that quickly filled the compartment. The gassed-out defenders flailed or stumbled in the haze, no longer paying attention to the lessening of their suppression fire and the increasing tempo of the ODSTs'.
The troopers immediately set about maneuvering from their cover. Their VISRs pierced through the smoke to highlight the red shapes of the beleaguered crew. Rifles were raised and bullets found their mark.
The Staff switched out his rifle for his shotgun and dashed out. Nova, Hector and Zack followed close behind. They moved to the outer defense barriers with the other ODSTs. Taking their positions, they joined them in cutting down the hostile contacts beyond.
The Staff pumped a Grunt full of buckshot, tossing it into the shield of a confused Jackal and knocking aside its protection. Another blast blew off a piece of the vulture's head, splattering a nearby Elite with blood. The latter shot back through the smoke but his bolts went too wide to hit anything. The Staff's third shot didn't have the same problem as it blew out the alien's energy shields. It tried to roll away only for other attentive troopers to catch both it and another Elite in a crossfire. The two were cut down to size, collapsing into pools of their own blood.
More gunfire sounded off across the center as drained magazines were yanked out and fresh ones slapped in, as rifle barrels glowed hot and safety pins were pulled out of grenades.
The firefight reached a fiery climax once a general call for frags saw the outer passageways and upper corridors filled with them. They were tossed, bounced over floors, off walls or against ceilings before scything down anything and everything with mini-pressure waves of fragmentation. The rate of the explosions nearly matched that of an artillery barrage. In mere seconds the last of them echoed off into the bowels of the ship, leaving behind an eerie silence.
The Staff scanned the area ahead. The smoke gradually receded as the corvette's ventilation systems caused them to dissipate. The carpet of haze was rolled back to reveal a bloody mess. There were dead Grunts with missing limbs, Jackals with twisted bodies and Elites whose very armor had been pulped into their flesh. They were strewn across the floor, from the farthest defense barriers to the external passageways and exits. All lay within a shallow mangrove of damaged ship components and purple-blue viscera.
"Neptune-Actual to platoons, call in your sectors. Are we good?"
The platoon commanders called in their sectors including the Staff, pronouncing an all-clear across the compartment.
"Comm center secured." Garrison declared as he switched to the battalion frequency. "Troopers, get a handle on those exits. The platform's going to be our casualty collection point and base of operations while we're onboard, at least until we take the bridge. Everyone topside, start filing in. We're moving out."
The comm center was filled again with movement. This time it was that of ODSTs fanning out across the area. They rushed through the gory muck of enemy dead to reach the handful of doors on the ground floor. Up above, dozens more roped their way down onto the central platform. The next wave of platoons moved across the bridges to storm the passageways and corridors of the second floor, stacking up on the doors there. Others who were wounded limped or were carried by comrades against the flow of reinforcements. They were laid down on one side of the platform to be checked by the medics. The dead were in turn laid on the other side where their squadmates stripped them of their ammo, equipment and dog tags.
1st Platoon rallied at the entrance that their HUDs identified as leading north. Epsilon and Whiskey formed a stack on either side. The motion sensors activated at their presence. In a whir of mechanisms, the doors cycled open. The Staff edged in on the left side while Dalton came forward on the right. With a nod, the two of them stepped out with rifles raised.
Ahead of them lay a short, curving corridor that descended into a gradual dip before leveling out at another set of doors.
There was no one inside. There were no barricades either. It was completely and, considering what came before, worryingly empty.
Nova peeked inside as well. "Where're they at?"
"Good question." Dalton said. "I'd say they're waiting for us further down. What do you think, Ep-1?"
The Staff eyed the doors ahead with a hint of suspicion, waiting to see if they would open. They didn't.
"Looks like another ambush." He replied. "By the scans we have of this ship-type, the hangar should be right on the other side. There's plenty of maneuvering room for them in there."
Behind them, Mackley and Lang hustled over with their rifles in hand, having finished up with their sniper duty. They slipped into Whiskey's stack with Mackley sliding in behind Daz. He tried to poke his head around her to peer inside.
"What do we got in there? Any bad guys?"
"Probably." The Staff said. "Let's wait and see what Neptune-Actual says. If he sends us in then we'll find out soon enough."
The platoon laid in wait while others moved across the center, stacking up on the last exits and preparing to push into the ship.
Seeing that everyone was in place, the colonel strode out from his position below the platform. He moved straight for 1st Platoon with his rifle at his side as he conveyed orders over comms.
"Bravo, 2nd and 3rd Platoons, you'll be taking that portside exit on your left. Secure the armory on that side of the ship. Alpha, 3rd and 4th, same to you for the starboard side. Clear those crew quarters and keep an eye out for the miss-drops over there. Last I heard, they're already engaged so they'll be happy to see you. I want both companies' 5th Platoons on the stern exits. Your job is the engine room. Be careful as you move, don't want you setting off anything we don't want to set off." He nodded to the Staff as he came to stand beside him. "Bravo 1st Platoon and Alpha 2nd and 6th, you're with me. We'll secure the hangar then move onto the plasma battery before we hit the bridge."
The different platoons acted accordingly. Moving to or having already moved into position, they surged into the corridors beyond their assigned doors in organized columns. As the units vanished into their designated sections of the ship, two more finished roping in from the landing pad. Over 50 of the late arriving ODSTs were troopers from Alpha's 2nd and 6th Platoons. They responded to the colonel's summons by running in, breaking into their individual squads to form new stacks behind Epsilon and Whiskey.
The Staff spotted the 2nd's Captain Ortega moving into position as well. He shared a thumbs-up with his old-time friend before turning back to the doors.
Having everyone they needed, Garrison gestured for the Staff to move with him. The two were the first to stride into the corridor. Dalton and Nova came next followed by the rest of their squads. The other platoons came in after them. They moved along in two neat lines that filed down the declining passage.
The Staff and Garrison stopped short of the sensor range for the next set of doors. The colonel raised three fingers and counted down. At one, he and the Staff rushed through.
The first things they saw were the twin barrels of a shade turret before all hell broke loose. They dropped to the floor as the turret's whining bellow unleashed a baptism at the doors. Rapid-fire bolts streamed into the corridor, forcing those inside to retreat against the walls. One failed to get away in time and was struck in the gut then in the face, bowling him to the floor. The platoons responded in kind by leaning past one another to return the favor, turning the space in between into a discourse of bullets and plasma. The Staff and Garrison were stuck just below it. They were made to lie against the chaos raging overhead and rolled off to the sides. Doing so granted them protection behind a pair of walls which girded a small stairway that descended into the bay.
Both set their focus on the shade. The Staff was the first to get a line of sight on it, spotting it near the bottom of the stairway. An Elite was sitting at the controls and blasting away with furious abandon. The Staff set his DMR's targeting reticle on the gunner. Two shots knocked its head back but failed to breach its shields. The gunner's reaction was immediate, swiveling around to hose his position.
He ducked behind the wall and waited for an opening. Two loud THUMPs resonated from the corridor. A pair of fireballs raced through the doors and slammed into the shade, swallowing it in a burst of flame and debris.
The moment the shade was down two new occurrences were put in motion. The first was that the ODSTs of 1st, 2nd and 6th Platoons were free to rush out of the corridor. The second was that they were met with a hail of plasma that seemed to come from every direction.
The hangar bay was alive with activity. The Staff saw everything as he took turns shooting at whatever hostile caught his eye. It was a visual overload with so many moving figures and discharging plasma weapons that it burned his retinas. The platoons had just entered not only into a target-rich environment but one saturated with too many Covenant to count.
Amidst his own gunfire and his orders to everyone else, he got the lay of the land.
The hangar was much like the comm center, circular and multi-storied though with a much larger interior.
The ODSTs had emerged onto a raised walkway. Two staircases branched out from either side of it. These ascended into a series of upper platforms that were connected to one another by overarching bridges and upheld by support columns. There was a similar setup mirrored on the opposite side of the hangar with stairs, platforms and columns. These however served as excellent overwatch positions from which squads of pesky Jackal snipers discharged their needle rifles. The avian marksmen used the safety of the platform walls and deployable shields as added protection.
The architecture didn't stop there. To their left and right, to the port and starboard sides of the bay stood the bay doors themselves. They weren't doors in the traditional sense. In truth they were little more than two large and somewhat oblong spaces that gapped the corvette's hull. They were secured by the rippling walls of energy barriers which served as the sole means of security, not that they were doing much good against an attack from the inside. The peaceful sprawl of the mountain range passed by outside, contrasting hard with the firefight raging within the hangar.
The interior space between the bay doors was the main bay itself. It was comprised of a wide central area raised slightly above an outlying floor. Pale illumination from a single, overhead light shone down like a giant's eye on the defenses below. The floor of the bay had been turned into a labyrinth of defense barriers, portable shields and ammo crates. They were built around a trio of glowing energy pylons that towered at their center.
From behind, between and in front of these defenses stood the defenders.
There were perhaps 100 or more. Grunts were in abundance as were shield Jackals and Elites. Strangely, some of the latter weren't even armored. They were stark naked save for the plasma rifles they wielded with the same ferocity as their armored counterparts. Perhaps it was proof of how off-guard the 7th's assault had caught them, finding them literally with their pants down. These unarmored Elites were few and far in between. In this they were very much unlike the armada of intimidating emplacements that spattered plasma across the now captured entrance. Several shades and a dozen plasma turrets were scattered throughout the floor and across the opposing platforms. With their combined presence, any chance of an advance was immediately put on hold.
Making matters worse, though at that point the Staff didn't believe it possible, several Hunter pairs made their appearance. They emerged from the opposing entrances as well as from hiding places throughout the bay. They added to the chaos as they stomped their way inside. After leveling their pavise shields to protect themselves, they assailed the ODSTs' newfound positions with their assault cannons, searing and blasting the walls of their cover with green plasma. Troopers ducked down to avoid a direct hit and suffered the powerful impacts that reverberated through both metal and bone.
Then, against all odds, the Staff's belief that the situation couldn't possibly get any worse was shattered.
The ceiling came alive.
It took him and everyone else a while to notice it since they were so preoccupied with matters on the ground. Movement on the edge of their peripheries turned some of the troopers towards the ceiling. Their shouts caused others to look as well.
The room's main overhead light was so strong that it left the area above in darkness, causing those below to not recognize the crawling, fluttering and chittering shapes that moved in the shadows. The silhouettes were slow at first. However, after realizing they had been spotted, the host of several dozen Drones flew off from the ceiling. They swarmed about the hangar yet generally congregated in the air either near or directly above the ODSTs. Like stormy clouds finally releasing their payload, the swarm showered their guests with green plasma. Theirs proved the most accurate and the most devastating.
In under a minute nearly a full squad's worth of Helljumpers were downed. Those who were hit either braced themselves against available cover as they clutched at steaming wounds or slumped to the floor beside their alarmed comrades.
A few Drones broke away from the swarm to dive at their quarry. Two of them plunged towards the Staff. He had seen them coming and switched out his rifle for his shotgun. He was about to bring up the weapon when a pair of clawed feet seized the barrel. The first Drone tried to yank the weapon out of his hands but he pulled against it. Their scuffle quickly turned into a tug of war for his own shotgun. The Drone put more effort into its buzzing wingbeats while he braced a foot against his cover to keep his balance. He could feel the alien purposefully pushing down the barrel as well, preventing him from aiming at it. In a burst of strength, he delivered a powerful pull. It yanked the creature down enough for him to crouch to the floor, reangling the barrel so that it aimed up into the creature's thorax. He looked it straight in its compound eyes as he pumped a shell and fired.
The Drone blew apart in a flurry of goo and insectoid limbs. Some of the viscera splashed over his visor. He was trying to wipe it off when he felt his gun being yanked again. The second Drone had arrived and had also grabbed it with its feet, chittering in anger. Despite his best efforts it refused to let go. All the while its plasma pistol generated a sphere of roiling green energy. The power of the overloaded bolt inflicted violent vibrations on the pistol as it leveled the weapon at his face.
A flash of black metal swatted the pistol aside. The bolt discharged into the wall behind him, sizzling the surface. He heard a groan of pain and finally noticed Nova standing beside him holding her own DMR like a club. Her hands still steamed from the close call that had just barely skimmed her knuckles, not enough to stop her from recovering from her swing and delivering another. She batted the alien across the face, snapping its head aside so that it dropped his shotgun. It screeched and fluttered towards her, grabbing ahold of her rifle and pushing her down to the floor. The two wrestled for control of the weapon while it used a freehand to bring out its pistol.
The Staff was already up by then. Using the power of a running start he kicked it in the side of the head and sent it barreling across the floor. He pounced on it before it could recover, pinning it beneath a boot as he pumped another shell. It screeched in rage and clawed at his leg. In return, he slammed the barrel into its face so hard that it knocked its head against the floor. Dazed yet seeming to understand its fate, the creature made a last-ditch attempt to grab the barrel. His trigger finger was faster and relieved the Drone of the burden of its head, reducing it to a mess of pulped fragments.
"That one's for the captain." He growled.
Remembering the wider battle, he threw himself down to a crouch, narrowly avoiding several needles from opportunistic Jackal snipers. He stayed low as he shuffled over to Nova's side and helped her up.
"You good!?" he asked over the gunfire.
"My brains are a little shaken up but I'll manage! You!?"
"Same! Nice swing by the way!"
"Yeah, your kick's not bad either!"
The two crouched back towards the lineup, taking a position between Zack and Renni. The Staff returned to the use of his DMR. He singled out what targets he could find. It wasn't easy given the harsh return fire that periodically raked his cover.
He realized then and there that no matter what they tried, taking the hangar bay would be a struggle. The enemy's high numbers and their own casualties made that obvious.
They were going to be here for a while. Trading shots with the Jackals on the far side of the bay, he found himself focused on one concern that was solved then subsequently worsened by another. The first was that there was a chance the corvette would fly off into orbit. Doing that with nearly two whole companies still onboard would be an operational nightmare. Second was the solution to that problem which presented its own problem. Duncan and Rico were heading with Captain Eddies to the bridge. If they took it then his first concern would be nullified...so long as they held out. There lay the pinch. If the main force took too long then there was no telling what other reinforcements the corvette's crew might send against their captured bridge. The ODSTs needed to move fast or risk losing tactical command of the ship.
He needed to move fast or risk losing far more than he bargained for.
:********:
The sounds of battle echoed all throughout the corvette and yet Duncan had seen very little of it firsthand. The passageways he and the other miss-drops came across were mostly empty. The few crew members that they ran into, namely Grunts or the occasional Jackal, were eliminated without issue. Their use of stealth seemed to raise few alarms in this part of the ship.
Their initial breach into the hull led them into some sort of storage compartment. After navigating aisle after aisle of crates, machinery and other unidentifiable paraphernalia, they exited through a set of doors that gave them greater access to the interior. They briefly stopped in the outside passageway to get their bearings. Specs on the corvette provided by Lochaber's logistical personnel had been uploaded to their TACMAPs. A closer look showed that they were moving through one of the lower decks of the corvette. The bridge lay a few decks above and to their north. Captain Eddies planted a Nav point on the location and got them rolling.
Within the span of several minutes, they had found what passed as staircases on the corvette. These curving ascents allowed them to move a few decks higher. They weren't on the same level as the bridge yet however. There was one final ascent between them and their target. There were no more ornate staircases nearby. Instead, all roads pointed to a lift located closer to the bow of the ship. It would be their sole means of reaching the bridge from their location. As such, they kept one eye on their maps and another on their route.
Duncan was happy to not have to run at the front of the pack. Being saddled with the rocket launcher made him a bit slower. At the pace he was going he was surprised that Rico had managed to carry it and his grenade launcher with next to no problem. Maybe their training since Ballast had really paid off, at least for him.
Duncan stuck to the back of the group with his squadmate staying at his side. Thankfully Rico had given him a piece of wisdom along the way: putting the launcher on his back harness was better than carrying it in hand. After that strike of common sense, the rocketeer took the idea to heart and whipped out his pistol instead. He'd seen what could happen when using the big bang machine in confined spaces like these. Hector's little misfire on Actium came to mind, that time they were running along a Scarab and he shot a dud straight into an Elite's chest. Duncan doubted he'd have the same luck if he ran into something here with his SPNKR. Better to be blown up by the enemy than by himself.
In the middle of their travels, he noticed two things about the corvette that defied his expectations. First was the size. His last experience coming aboard a Covenant ship was years ago during the ONI operation on Osiris-7. The passageways of the crashed battlecruiser were much wider than those on the corvette. Then again, it was a bigger class of ship altogether so he could understand that. Second were the very similar circumstances shared between the two. Both seemed utterly empty at first. With the cruiser, Epsilon found out after the fact that they weren't alone. Aboard the corvette he had run into some resistance but it was minor at best. Where were the real defenses? Certainly, the crew were aware of them. The gunshots echoing from deeper within the ship guaranteed that. But then he found his answer from listening to those same sounds. It made sense that more of the defenders would be sent to the part of their ship where more of the intruders had come aboard. What it left behind however was a skeleton crew that stood no chance against Eddies' ODSTs. Yet it also left Duncan worried. If things were so easy here then-
"Hold up." Captain Eddies said in a hushed voice.
Duncan snapped back to reality. He had run for the past few minutes without paying attention to where he was going. The Helljumpers had reached the end of a corridor with two off-branching passageways, one going left and the other right. Eddies stood at the head of the lineup sizing up both routes.
"Either one of these leads to the last corridor to the lift. We'll split up. Half of you, take the right. Half of you, follow me on the left. We'll approach from both sides."
The troopers split themselves accordingly. Duncan stayed with those following Eddies on the left. Rico joined the group going right, giving him a good luck pat on the shoulder as he passed.
The passageway Eddies chose curved far to the left before curving again to the right, finally ending at a three-way intersection.
The ceiling was discernibly higher here and the walls farther apart than those that came before. The second group appeared from their passage on the other side. Together, the two stacks slowly approached the intersection. They edged towards the main corridor which was even wider and possessed a kind of vaulted ceiling. It was clear they were getting closer to the bridge.
Captain Eddies was the first to peek his head around the corner. Right then Duncan heard metal rattle against metal. Two guttural growls emanated from somewhere in the main corridor, like two beasts trying to roar with their mouths full. The captain immediately pulled his head back and braced himself against the wall.
"Hunter pair," he said. "They're on the other end, 20 meters down. Looks like they're guarding the way to the lift."
Great, Duncan thought. And here he was thinking their luck might hold out all the way to the bridge. He should have known better.
Eddies looked around at the troopers who were already tensing for what was sure to be a close-quarters fight. He scanned both stacks, his attention landing on Rico and, of course, the newly appointed rocketeer himself.
"Ep-6, Ep-8, up front."
Duncan sighed as pulled out his launcher. He left the safety of the rear of his stack for the dangers of the front. Rico did the same on the other side, stopping short of the point man.
"When I say go, Ep-8, you're going to treat them to the business end of that launcher, one for each. You got that?"
"Got it, sir."
"Ep-6, you're on standby with the 40-mil."
Rico nodded, readying his M319.
Eddies jabbed a finger at the point man of the right-side stack then pointed two fingers down the passage. Answering with a nod, the four of them waited for the captain's signal.
"Go!"
Eddies and the other trooper wheeled around the corner and fired down the corridor. Duncan rushed out between them. He slid to a knee, raised the launcher and quickly sighted through the scope. About 20 meters down the arching passageway were the two Hunters who stood on either side of a set of large doors. They had their shields up against the incoming rifle fire but their spines bristled and rattled when they spotted Duncan. They moved too late to raise their assault cannons. He aimed low and fired at the space between them.
Two rockets flew out and wisped down the corridor on trails of exhaust that ended in a pair of fiery explosions. The twin blasts erupted in the space between and slightly behind the Hunters, giving their fleshy backs the brunt of the impact. One of them wailed as the force of the blasts pushed it forward, shearing off its spines in a burst of orange blood. Groaning, it took a single step before it collapsed under its own weight.
The second Hunter was tougher. Despite some of its spines snapping off as its own blood doused the walls, it stayed upright. The wormy gestalt growled within their armored housing at the sight of the fallen. The Hunter rounded on Duncan and his now spent launcher. Its remaining spines rattled a vengeful tempo. With a throaty roar it charged down the corridor, ignoring the bullets that ricocheted haplessly off its shield as its boots fractured the floor with each stride.
"Back up!" Eddies ordered, pulling out a flashbang.
Duncan ran back to the side with the much lighter launcher in tow. He slid behind the captain as the latter pulled the pin and hurled the grenade. It bounced into the corridor and detonated in a burst of light, eliciting a pained groan from the Hunter. Duncan heard the heavy footfalls crunch to a halt.
The whine of building plasma grew in pitch before ending in a swift discharge. Everyone ducked as a fuel rod slammed into the rear wall of the intersection. A second followed close behind, striking the wall on a different spot. Now crouched beneath the range of the Hunter's assault cannon, the captain hammered into it.
"It's blind!" He said. "Get some frags on it!"
Duncan slapped his launcher back onto his harness and pulled out his two frags. Alongside two other troopers, he unpinned a grenade and tossed it at the Hunter. The group of frags flew towards the juggernaut but either bounced off its shield or went over its head, detonating further away or showering its frontal armor with fragmentation. The Hunter replied by unleashing a continuous stream of plasma like a flamethrower. The troopers and even Eddies rushed back to avoid the emerald napalm that surged past, bathing the rear wall in flames.
"You want to try that again, sir!?" Duncan asked. "I still got one more."
"You kidding me!?" Eddies gestured to his launcher. "Got any more ammo for that thing!?"
"No, sir!"
"Know anyone who does!?"
Duncan looked past the green conflagration to Rico and shouted over to him. "Hey, you got anything else for the launcher!?"
Rico shook his head. "Nada!"
"I don't think his 40-mil is going to do any good eith-" Eddies flinched along with everyone else at the second torrent of fire that shot from the corridor. He glanced further along his stack of anxious ODSTs. "Anybody got rockets!?"
Duncan didn't see anyone else with a launcher like his. Even so, one of them held up a hand.
"Right here, sir!"
"Then what're you waiting for!? Get up here!"
The trooper ran out from the stack. He carried a small rectangular ammo crate strapped below his rucksack. He kneeled down beside Duncan and pulled off the carrier straps. He popped the security bolts and opened the crate, revealing the fresh rocket tubes housed inside.
Duncan felt a smidge of relief as he was handed them. They found their way into the launcher and were sealed in place. "Good to go!"
Another flow of plasma shot past and glazed the now melted and sparking conduits of the rear wall. Seeing that the launcher was back in play, Eddies edged back towards the main corridor.
"Alright, here's what we're going to do! We'll wait 'till it stops shooting! The second it does, Ep-6, get one of your grenades past it! Once that has its attention, Ep-8, I want you to blow that thing in half! You copy!?"
"Yessir!" The two replied.
Eddies signaled his point man to get ready. After launching a fifth spray of plasma, the barrage subsided.
"Now!"
Rico stepped out and aimed high. With a thump he launched a grenade from the M319, causing a commotion of movement in the passageway. "It's turning! Ep-8, go-, wait, hold on!"
But Duncan had already dashed into position.
He had fallen to a crouch, raised his launcher, sighted down the scope and found the Hunter's assault cannon aiming right back at him. Panic struck him like a lightning bolt and he squeezed the trigger. The Hunter did likewise.
He didn't even bother to see if he'd hit the mark, his sole concern being getting away from the column of fire that headed straight for him. As he hurled himself aside, he barely dodged the torrent of plasma that rushed overhead. He barreled across the floor, refusing to stop until he was safely beside the captain.
He was in a daze, so much so that he didn't hear the captain until he took a punch to the shoulder.
"Hey!" Eddies barked. "Ditch the launcher!"
Duncan finally recognized the intense heat emanating from his arms, or rather from what he was carrying. To his horror he saw that the launcher was on fire. While he'd dodged the fuel rod, it had doused his weapon from front to back in electrifying flames. Sparks flew out from the firing chamber as the last rocket inside began to cook.
In another surge of panic, he reeled back and javelined the weapon into the main corridor. Not even a second later he heard the explosion of distinctly human ordnance. The blast brightened the intersection and sent pieces of the launcher flying by like shrapnel.
There was no further noise except the vaporous hiss of the rear wall. The Hunter had gone quiet.
Eddies poked his head in. Duncan, Rico and a few others did the same.
The Hunter lay face down, a still smoldering wreck of armor and flesh, the former of which burned while the latter began to unravel. The colony of alien worms were disentangling from one another, mainly doing so around the giant hole that had been blown into the giant's torso. They slithered across a pool of orange blood which only steamed them to death. The more resilient ones didn't get very far before they were crushed under passing boots, giving small and unheeded cries as the ODSTs walked over them.
The group came to a stop before the doors of the lift. Eddies paused to examine the levitating glyphs emitting from the access terminal. He pressed one of them and earned a negative bleep sound for his trouble. He tried a few different glyphs and received the same response.
"Figured." He sighed. "Looks like we'll have to find another way in."
"What's wrong, sir?" A trooper asked.
"The bridge must've heard we were on our way up. This thing's sealed tight."
"Can I try it, sir?" Duncan asked.
"By all means."
Eddies stepped away for Duncan to investigate the controls. The varying shapes and calligraphies that floated beneath his fingertips were enigmatic as always. Still, his HUD tried to help him by locating, identifying and translating useful icons. He used the software to navigate through the decks of the ship. Eventually he found the one they were on and pressed it. The negative bleep sounded. He tried again and got the same reply. A similar sound responded for the other decks that he attempted to route them to.
"Anything?" Eddies queried.
"No, sir. I think they've locked down any access to the lift from this terminal specifically."
"Then, like I said, we'll need to find another way. Let's head back everyone. We'll see what we can find."
Captain Eddies led the way back out of the corridor. The others followed, albeit with a felt reluctance. The longer they spent travelling through the ship, the higher their chances were of running into trouble. The bridge needed to be secured and soon. Keeping that in mind, the group broke into a jog, leaving the ruined Hunters behind to retrace their steps.
To everyone's surprise, they encountered no resistance this time. The areas they passed were empty. The route they took left them completely unencumbered by the hostile crew.
Two minutes after leaving the lift they arrived at a new set of doors. Eddies pointed out on their maps that on the other side lay a large compartment. Inside of it was what looked like some means of inter-deck transportation. The goal was to use it in order to reroute for the bridge. It would be faster than trying to find more stairways at least.
Eddies was the first to approach. The entryway cycled open and unveiled what lay inside.
Duncan wasn't sure whether he was looking at some sort of library or a prison. It was a rectangular space with two floors. There were walkways along the second floor and what appeared to be alcoves or empty rooms that lined the walls. While the rooms were empty, the walkways as well as the ground floor courtyard were quite full. Elites, Grunts, Jackals and most concerningly a number of Brutes lay dead and bloodied. Some were smoldering from plasma. Some had been decapitated, disemboweled by Brute spikes or dismembered by...what, claws?
Duncan realized they had stumbled upon a massacre.
It wasn't a total bloodbath however. Not yet. The troopers came out slowly onto the walkway of the second floor as they became aware of the five survivors.
On the ground floor, in the middle of the courtyard were four Brutes. Three of them were holding down the arms and legs of an Elite. An unarmored Elite for that matter. It was fully naked with scores of bloody gashes torn into its skin. At first Duncan thought they were performing some kind of procedure on it. Then he noticed the resistant panic on the Elite's face, saw the Brutes grinning toothily as they held it down and witnessed the palpable satisfaction of their fourth member, a chieftain, as it raised its gravity hammer.
The hammer swung down blade-first and bit into the right arm of their captive. The Elite screamed. The Brutes cheered. The chieftain howled.
It raised its hammer only for partly severed tendons and muscles to cling to the blade. The arm wasn't fully removed yet. This made the chieftain scowl, then brought a sadistic joy to its face as well as horror to the Elite's as the hammer rose again. The Elite saw it coming and shouted defiantly. But the deep cry changed to a sharp wail once the even sharper hammer blade came down. The crack of bone and ripping of flesh echoed throughout the whole compartment. The Elite's scream vacillated through different tones of torment while the laugh of its tormentors rose even louder.
Duncan fought to get the whisper out of his throat. "4-Actual...what's going on?"
Standing beside him behind the railings of the walkway, the captain said nothing for a while. He watched the chieftain kick aside the dismembered limb with the casualness of a soccer ball. Then, despite the now muted groans of their victim, the Brutes held down the Elite's other arm for the chieftain's approach, causing the bleeding alien to shout once more. The chieftain took the place of one of its packmates by planting a heavy boot on the arm to keep it pinned.
"...Let's kill these things." The captain said hoarsely. "Troopers, fan out, I want a pincer on these guys from both sides. Keep it quiet."
Eddies made for the walkway on the left side of the compartment. Duncan and Rico came after him. The troopers coming behind either followed the captain or moved stealthily to the walkway on the right. Their attention shifted constantly between finding their footing through the corpses of the dead and the horror show playing out in the courtyard. Duncan wasn't exempt either. He observed the gory spectacle out the corner of his eye.
The chieftain raised its hammer and swung. This time the blade cut clean through the arm in a burst of viscera. The Elite screamed, yet unlike before its scream was now weaker.
Soon everyone was in position. Waiting in the shadows of the second floor, they picked their targets. Most of the Brutes weren't wearing any major armor. Save the chieftain, they were basically barebacked with headpieces, arm guards, minor chest pieces and something of a protective guard around the groin. They likely didn't have any energy shields. That alone would make them much easier to deal with.
"On my mark." Eddies said.
The troopers remained statuesque for his count down.
"Three...two...let'em have it!"
Even as the chieftain was raising its hammer to start on the Elite's legs, the room came alight. Muzzle flashes from the darker second floor heralded an ensemble of rifle fire that washed across the Brutes.
Sure enough they didn't have any shields. The bullet-storm shattered their armor and turned their bare flesh into Swiss cheese. They snarled and shouted, searching for their foes but finding too many to count. Two of them collapsed in seconds. The third fired its spike rifle at some of the troopers one-handed, using the other to hold down its weakening captive. Its own stubborn refusal to release its prey wreaked havoc on its aim. Bursts of spikes rattled off the underside of the walkways or shattered against the railings. None found their mark and soon the Brute succumbed to the onslaught.
The chieftain stood alone. Its shields glimmered like lightning under the ballistic scrutiny of the ODSTs. It bellowed as it brought up its hammer and charged for the troopers on the other walkway. Duncan unloaded his pistol into its back in an attempt to be of some use. Yet his sidearm and even the automatic weapons of those in its path could barely overload its shields. The Brute bounded high into the air with enough force to rise a few meters over the walkway. The troopers in its range were caught off guard as it prepared an overhead swing.
Duncan was too caught up in the scene to have noticed the loud thump that sounded from beside him or to see the 40-millimeter grenade that arced across the courtyard. He did see the aftermath however. The grenade bounced off the ground floor, whistled past the rising Brute, bounced again off a railing and right back into the chieftain's face.
The detonation blew off its shields along with its helmet, knocking it back down to the ground floor. There it crashed into a spattering heap. It remained unmoving for all to see, its face and body a mangled mess.
Duncan and everyone else turned to Rico who thumbed a fresh 40-millimeter grenade into his launcher. He flicked the weapon shut and pretended to blow out the smoke that rose from the barrel.
Duncan gave him a friendly elbow to the ribs. "Nice shot."
"Gracias."
"I'm impressed." The captain said. "You're not half bad, Ep-6."
"You guys don't have to praise me you know, I'm only happy to help."
Duncan elbowed him again for the pretend humility.
"Get some rope out, people." Eddies said. "Let's check things out."
Several in the group pulled out utility ropes from their rucksacks. Securing them to the railings, they threw the rest down from the walkways. Duncan made sure his own was fastened properly before he zipped down its length with Rico and the captain.
The troopers spread out across the ground floor which was even harder to navigate. The greater density of savaged bodies was the main cause. That was to say nothing for the blood spatter which made the location look more like a hodgepodge mosaic of death.
A couple of troopers gathered around the chieftain and fired a few extra bursts into it for good measure. Others checked what they were now sure were prison cells to see if anything was still alive inside.
The ship's brig seemed to be under a lockdown since the other doors refused to open at their presence. It was a partial lockdown judging by how the doors they came through were allowed to stay open. That was probably because anyone coming from that side were less likely to be enemies than those coming from the midsection. Chances were that the bridge was planning on sending reinforcements to address the situation here, whatever said situation was. Logically, matters elsewhere had made that next to impossible. In the end they had ultimately left a backdoor open for their enemies.
While others checked on the cells or roved the upper walkways to investigate those on the second floor, Duncan walked towards the last surviving alien.
The Elite that the Brutes had tortured was somehow still breathing, though just barely. It lay in a growing pool of its own blood which now intermingled with that of its tormentors. It had no armor so its wounds were plain to see. Both of its arms were gone. It drew in labored and ever shallower breaths through twitching mandibles. That made it a threat by reason of still being alive. Duncan had seen plenty of Elites who'd been deprived of entire limbs and remained a threat through sheer tenacity.
Yet this one showed no resistance at all. It barely reacted to his presence once he came to stand over it. Rico joined him and so did the captain. They eyed the creature with wary interest. The Elite didn't seem to care. It looked past them, perhaps to whatever comforting memories it could still grasp onto.
Slowly, it began coughing up blood.
"To think they'd do this to their own." Eddies said, shaking his head.
"What do we do about this guy, sir?" Duncan asked.
"What about it, trooper? If it dies, it dies. So long as it doesn't get up to stab us in the back, it's fine with me." He paused to scrutinize Duncan. "Unless you already have a prescription in mind, Mr. Doctor."
Duncan understood what he meant. The Elite's coughing grew ragged and some blood landed on his visor. Against his better judgement he felt a twinge of sympathy driving him to act. Eddies and Rico watched him slip a new clip into his sidearm and pull back the slide. He pointed it at the Elite's head.
At this, the alien finally seemed to notice them. More specifically, it noticed the pistol. Its coughs diminished.
Then Duncan saw something that disturbed him. The Elite's mandibles shifted in such a way that, unless he was imagining it, it almost seemed to smile, as if it was relieved to see them. As if it was relieved to stare down the barrel of his M6.
He fired once.
Once was enough.
Its brains blew out across the floor and the last rays of life left its eyes
Duncan stared at the face of the corpse. For all of the Elites that he had killed before, this one seemed right but for a whole different reason. Usually, he killed them out of the need to protect his squad or humanity at large. This one felt unlike any of those times. It was more like he shot it out of empathy, like he was trying to help it.
Rico patted him on the back. "Well, well, aren't we feeling merciful today. You're a real saint, Ep-8, you know that? Right up there with the Madre de Gracia herself."
"...Sure..."
"Hey, I've got a person over here!" A trooper shouted.
Everyone in the room turned to see one of the Helljumpers on the second floor. He was coming out of a cell. Someone else came with him.
Duncan squinted at the gaunt-jawed and weary-eyed figure that was escorted out of the cell. The man was free of any wounds that he could discern, nothing colored blood-red save his rugged hair. His clothing was tattered but recognizably civilian.
A civilian on a Covenant ship?
He never thought he would put those words together in a sentence. In spite of his own ideas on how reality worked, here was something that went against his years of experience. Here was a civilian prisoner of the Covenant. A living civilian prisoner.
The ODST that was helping him guided him along by the shoulder, stopping him at the railing. "What should we do with him, sir?"
Duncan turned to Eddies. The captain didn't have to depolarize his visor to show his shock or annoyance. His hunching shoulders said it all.
"You're kidding me." he groaned. "Alright, bring him down here. I want to talk to him."
"How, sir?"
"If he looks okay enough for it, tie him up and rope him down."
The civilian took a step back at the mention of being tied up. His guardian held him in place. The trooper surveyed him. Not finding any wounds, he walked him to one of the ropes. There two others secured a rope harness around him and went through the process of lowering him to the ground floor. He put up little resistance to the treatment. In fact, Duncan was tempted to think they were dealing with a human mannequin by how stiff his movements were.
Upon reaching the ground floor, another trooper undid his harness and walked him over to the captain.
The closer he came, the more Duncan noticed about him. The more Duncan noticed, the more he wanted to vomit. While the civilian had a vague unwashed smell, that was not what unsettled his stomach. It was his appearance. The sleeves of his shirt and parts of his pants were torn off and seemingly on purpose.
That purpose was written as clear as day on his person. There were carvings in his skin. They weren't intricate symbols but incision marks that formed lines across his body, tracing rectangles over his shins, ovals over his biceps and triceps and even a circle around his forehead. Duncan had seen similar things done to patients about to undergo surgery. He had also seen them done to livestock prepared for the butcher.
"You guys came just in time." the man said shakily.
Eddies cocked his head at him. "Who-…how did you get on this ship?"
"Isn't it obvious? They captured me."
"...How long have you been here?"
The man shrugged. "A few days, I don't know, I can't really tell time in here."
"Okay, what's your name?"
"Folks around here call me Zander. Is that alright with you?"
"Yeah, that's fine. Ugh..." Eddies gestured towards the markings on his skin. "Mind explaining that?"
"These Brutes, sir." He replied, giving him a weak smile. "Like I said, you came just in time."
Duncan felt the urge to puke. He pulled off his helmet just to play it safe and tried to hold it in.
Rico came to his side. "Hey, hey you good?"
Duncan could only shake his head. Rico let him hold onto him while he bore through the worst of the sensation. His stomach settled again. He regained the strength to stand upright and listened reluctantly to the conversation.
Zander seemed reluctant to listen as well. He was staring hard at the helmetless ODST, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. His gaze quickly subsided, becoming a hollow glare that bore into Duncan's soul.
Captain Eddies noticed and waved a hand in front of him. "Hey, Zander was it? Over here buddy."
"What? Oh, yeah, sorry. What was that?"
"Pay attention because this concerns you directly. Troopers, same to you. Here's how we're going to work this out. Three of you are going to stay here and guard this guy. The rest of us will continue to the bridge. Most of the doors are secured so whoever's staying won't have to worry about anything except blowing them open once our back-up arrives. Until then, you'll hold tight here while we hold the bridge. Any volunteers?"
No one stepped forward. Glorified babysitter duty for the miracle prisoner didn't sound very appealing.
"Alright then, I'll just have to single you guys out." He rounded on Duncan and Rico as well as a nearby trooper. "Ep-6, Ep-8, you're civvy-sitting. Lima-6, you too."
Rico sighed explosively. The other trooper groaned. Duncan said nothing. He didn't bother complaining given the circumstances. He wasn't too excited to take another shot at the bridge after the close call with the Hunters.
"Will do, sir." Duncan said. "We'll keep an eye on him."
"Good man. Someone hand Ep-8 a rifle. I'm tired of seeing him with just a pistol."
One of the group came over and tossed him an extra assault rifle. He was happy to see it was an MA37. He finally had a gun for all the extra magazines he'd brought along.
"Now we just need to find a way up." The captain declared. "I know I saw something on the map that-"
"Excuse me, sir?" Zander butted in. "There's actually a-, ugh, what do you call it? A lift, yeah there's one of those in here. I've seen them use it before to get to the upper decks."
The captain gave him his full attention. "Really? Where is it?"
"Well, you're standing on it."
"What?"
Zander pointed at his feet then at one of the dead Brutes. "The body right there is on top of the terminal you need in order to activate it. Don't know if you know how to use those things but if you do, it'll take you where you need to go."
The captain eyed the body for a moment and waved for a few others to come help him. Duncan and Rico joined them in heaving up the riddled Brute. They carried it a few meters away and dumped it among the other corpses.
Beneath where it had lain was a small compartment in the floor. Inside was a projector lens. Sensing that the obstruction was removed, the device reactivated. Holographic glyphs appeared at roughly head-height and hovered in a rotating circle. Eddies came up to it and raised a hand over the symbols.
"Well would you look at that. You're right, civvy, there is a way up." He looked to the ceiling. "If we use this, we'll be just about level with the bridge."
He pressed one of the glyphs. There was a mechanical hiss. An oval-shaped section of the floor around the projector lens began to rise. It stopped half-a-meter up, ready to embark.
"Troopers, on me."
The other ODSTs dashed over and roped down to the ground fleer in order to climb onto the lift. There was sufficient room for everyone to avoid bunching up. They setup a defensive perimeter around the captain and his newfound controls.
"Civvy-team, keep your comms peeled for any sign of that back-up. And make sure to set a watch on the door we came in from. It looks like it's the only one that'll work here. If you need to fall back, use it."
"Copy." Rico replied. "Good luck, sir."
"Same to you."
The captain pressed another glyph, prompting the lift to commence a gradual ascent. There was no support pillar or electric motor raising the platform. However, there was in the place of those things the vacillating, mirage-like air synonymous with an anti-gravity field. The lift reached a point that part of the ceiling above it split apart. An oval-shaped shaft of equal size opened to receive it.
"We'll see you when this is over." Eddies called down. "If you guys are still alive, it'll be drinks on me."
"We'll hold you to that." Rico replied.
Duncan watched the lift rise into the shaft. He knew Rico and Lima-6 were looking at it too. Nevertheless, his sixth sense still told him that he was being watched and very closely at that.
Captivus - Captive