Lieutenant Commander Tyler – 84, or Spartan-84, known here affectionately as Black Angle, or just 84, strolled down the poorly lit corridor. The dim lights arranged in a line above his head did little to dispel the shadows on the walls about him. These underground tunnels connected all of the installations here, better to ward off the terrible storms that rushed through the mountains. It wasn't storm season currently, and he was afraid to say that he was actually beginning to like it here. This wretched excuse for a planet was a lot nicer than some of the hellholes he had fought in recently, and certainly the lack of aliens made it a much cozier place than his last assignment.
84 walked to the end of the hall, and accessed the key terminal to enter the research facility. It was a research facility, at least. Now, it housed a starship class MAC gun, who's sophisticated targeting computers doubled up as research terminals for the hot headed scientists out here. Saved on equipment and seemed good budgeting. At least until the enemy found this little installation nestled right on the border of Covenant space, sitting on top of some underground temples. 84 was sure that the xenos would be really happy to find 'infidels' getting drunk on their holy ground. And they called him unnecessarily paranoid. Right. He wasn't about to be caught by some Covenant ambush with his pants down, puking his guts out. He didn't drink anyway. It made him lose coordination and accuracy. He wouldn't have that any day, whether he was fighting or not. It was necessary that he always be combat ready, or else the moment he let his guard down the enemy will strike, and he, along with all the other marines and people down here, would be left to rot on this miserable world of swamp and rock.
Black Angle had heard once that this world looked this way because of terraforming. The water, well, sludge that made up the small oceans, and the huge shrubby fungi that passed for trees were supposedly transplanted here from a foreign ecosystem. The animals were artificially introduced as well. Honestly, he didn't care. Anything that flew or ran into him was going to be shot, plain and simple. Otherwise, if he couldn't eat it, or use it for a tactical advantage, it didn't matter.
As 84 strolled through the doorway into the MAC station, he glanced around. This was the observation room. It contained uplinks to the satellites in orbit around a few of the planets in system, and direct connections to the Chimera, the small cruiser keeping an eye on them from orbit. It was littered with displays, and tables. Seems the room seconded as a temporary recreation room for scientists and marines. 84 walked past the tables with cards, glancing only momentarily at the displays. They all seemed focused on one particular region. Something else was out there. 84 turned to the back of the room, where another door waited for him. He pushed the activator, and entered, already preparing for what was about to start.
Doctor Shingen Mato stood up from his terminal. His eyes ached and burned from the long hours of staring at foreign scripts and language tags. This was getting old. He would have stopped and given up, if he wasn't so close to figuring out what it was they had here. The scientist turned back to the table sitting in the middle of the room. There were three other terminals, and a heads up display hologrammed onto a back wall. The far wall on the opposite side bore a huge window, looking out onto the valley currently covered in discarded canisters, fuel tanks, ammo casings, and warthogs. So many marines, he thought, what is it that we've found here?
The sound of the door closing brought Shingen out of his revelry. The Spartan came in and looked around. He was carrying a rocket launcher on his left shoulder and a shotgun in his right hand.
"Um, is there another party I didn't know about?" Shingen asked sarcastically, motioning to the weapons.
"No, just a bad feeling." The Spartan always replied in short phrases. Others found it annoying, but to Shingen, it was just cool.
Shingen was a small Asian man, roughly 5 feet 6 inches. He had a wiry frame, and was strong despite his lack of bulging muscles. That's what 15 years of martial arts will do though, and Shingen had been training since childhood. He had entered school not knowing what he was going to do, and had never imagined he would be a research engineer in astrophysics for the UNSC. He was good looking, with small glasses and a trimmed face. Dark intense eyes dominated his face, and he had a tendency to stare.
"That anomaly still bugging you 84?" Shingen asked, talking about the sensor shadows they had been experiencing for almost a month now.
"I know they are here." 84 said coolly.
"Sure, well, then why don't you escort me for a while. I know you like to see what I'm doing."
"You mean, I like to see why we are all here," replied the Spartan. That made sense, though, as Shingen was the head scientist now that the navy had control of this installation. If 84 wanted to know why they were here, it was going to be through Shingen.
"I have some new data fragments to take to the language lab. These symbols just don't have anything to compile them against each other. It's really frustrating…" Shingen motioned to a pile of data crystal chips, probably worth more than a pair of Scorpion class battle tanks.
In reply to 84's quizzical look, at least, as quizzical as one can get while wearing a fully enclosed helmet, Shingen decided to explain his dilemma.
"You see here Black? These symbols? Well, we have an idea of what the device does, based on a compilation of data logs we found stored in this thing. It records every use, and exactly where it was used, and to where it was aimed. We have here the keystone of teleportation technology. The range, judging by the farthest recorded use, is astronomical. Something close to 25,000 AU (astronomical units)go, which is a very long way. The problem is that the records are recorded in numeric code, which is easy to translate once you understand their number system. It's a 7-based system, using multiples of 7 like we use multiples of 10. I've never heard of such a system, but we have encountered systems of 8 and 12 before, so it's not impossible. So, anyway, you see here? The instructions and the rest of the system files for this thing are all in this other language, similar to what we've found on some of the Covenant buildings and artifacts. It's an iconographic language, with what we estimate to be over 3000 unique characters. I don't think this thing's makers had an alphabet, and if they did, we haven't been able to decipher it. So far, none of the symbols have had enough correlation to give us any idea as to their meaning. I'm cross-referencing with all the data we have on Covenant writing, but that too is shaky. It's nothing like their command script we've encountered, or the stuff they employ on their computers. It's some kind of holy script they use occasionally to name things. That means this might take us a lot longer than anticipated. I just hope we can get enough of this stuff out of the ground to do some serious research back home. I hate doing it in these cramped little buildings. Especially so close to the ammo of that huge cannon you guys lugged over here." Shingen finished his speech, looking up to see what 84 thought. The Spartan didn't seem to be paying attention to Shingen though, and was instead staring out the window.
"What's wrong 84? I bore you to sleep?" Shingen said with a nervous laugh. Anything that made a Spartan freeze up like that was enough to give Shingen the creeps.
"I saw something, out by the listening post." 84 replied in a serious, monotone voice. Shingen felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up, and looked around the room nervously, trying to think of something to do. He looked back up, and walked over to the window.
"I don't see anything sir, maybe your eyes are just playing tricks on you in the dark. I could turn on the compound lights if you want?" Shingen sounded nervous. He was trying to hide it, but these field operations always made him slightly paranoid. There were too many things that could go wrong.
As the two gazed out at the compound, with its small glow rods spread out, and blinking lights on the listening tower, everything seemed ok. There were much stronger floodlights that Shingen could activate from here, but when he tried, the Spartan stayed his hand.
"If something's here, we don't want to let it know that we have spotted it."
"Who's it? What are you talking about, I don't see anything?" Shingen was desperately trying to see something, anything, out in the gloomy night. His hands pressed to the thick glass, he didn't even notice as 84 walked over and pressed the close button. Noticing at last, Shingen stepped away from the window, and its thick blast door slid into place, obscuring the rest of the compound from view.
"Let's move. We need to protect this building." The Spartan was halfway to the door by the time Shingen turned around.
"Uh, shouldn't we alert the marines? That is why they are here, isn't it? To protect us?"
The Spartan stopped, waiting with his back to the scientist. His voice was cold, and serious.
"We aren't here to protect you. We're here to keep the Covenant from getting your new toy. It's coming with me, as are you." Shingen stood there for a moment, then he grabbed the cross-shaped icon off the table, and walked out the door with Black Angle, determined to meet whatever was coming.
Telys Menee waited quietly while his brothers prepared. He had been sitting and waiting for two weeks now, and was growing very agitated. He could smell the blood of these humans, and he could not spill it. Looking out from behind the rocks he was hiding behind, Telys watched as the other Phalanxes swept into the compound, silencing guards, and planting plasma bombs. They had seen three large vehicles; similar in size to the wraiths, and 8 or 9of the smaller wheeled ones. This was to be expected. It was only misfortune that they would have to wait until the Phantom drop ships could land for their own sacred craft. As he watched, he saw the fast flash of a light amplifier farther up the mountain. Good, the snipers were ready. The fuel rod guns that had been hefted up those mountains would soon come in handy when the Infidels piled out of their huts. Telys looked forward to the coming slaughter; it was what these vile blasphemers deserved.