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He didn't want to be alone again.

Michael completed the halls length and stooped down next to the fallen marine, who was laying face down. He was about to turn her over when she shuddered.

Kiesha quickly got up to her elbows and knees, her head hung loosely, her eyes closed.

"Barker…" Michael began but was cut off. "Shhhh," Kiesha slurred quietly.

Michael simply complied, sat back on his heels, and didn't say a word. She's still in shock from the blow, he reasoned. She just needs time to let her senses reorient themselves, any other outside stimuli would just frustrate her condition. Michael had been in shock before and it wasn't exactly enjoyable.

Your senses basically get overloaded, your vision becomes distorted, when you hear something it sounds like your underwater, you can't feel much of anything either. He knew that the best thing was to just let her be until the feeling subsided. The blow seemed pretty bad but her armor had protected her. Michael noticed the large dent in the center of her chest plate, but he concluded that she hadn't been harmed internally, other then a small bruise.

Breathing deeply, Kiesha blinked twice. Then she slowly opened her eyes, and sat backwards on her butt.

"You okay," Michael asked. Kiesha turned to her left quickly and looked at him quickly. "Yeah-yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice sounding stable enough.

"Good, you don't seem to be severely injured, so let's keep going," the corporal said, standing up and offering her a hand. "Hold on, where's John," she asked, still a little shaky.

Michael heaved a sigh, and sat back to the floor, knowing what was coming next, and already preparing. He firmly grasped Kiesha's shoulders as she caught sight of the charred heap down the hall. Before she could even open her mouth Michael was in her face. "Don't say a word," he said, the tears already welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"But-but, I," she mumbled. "I said don't speak," Michael repeated firmly. Getting angry now, the young soldier tried to get up, but already having a strong grip on her, Michael pressed her back down. "Let go," she said angrily.

"No, sit and listen," he said. "Don't go to him, I won't let you, because there is nothing for you there. If you go and grieve in the past, you will never move onto the future," the marine managed to get out before the girl below him could object again.

"You need to move forward, and survive, you're still alive so get up and continue on, don't look back," Michael continued. "Time is short; don't let your emotions distract you. Grieve later," he concluded.

Kiesha stared up at him, eyes still moist and her body trembling. Fist clenched she was on the brink of knocking the man straight flat. Then unexpectedly she softened. She closed her eyes and released her anger. He was right. Going against the logic would simply make her appear ignorant.

She reopened her eyes and stared long and hard at Michael. His grasp on her shoulders fell away and his hands went back to their sides. Kiesha broke the gaze, bent down, picked up her SMG and turned to face the dead elite at her feet. Michael expected her to do something rash like shoot the body, but to his surprise, she simply stepped past it and walked to the door, that would lead to the next chamber.

She stopped and turned: "well, let's go then," she said enthusiastically. Without another word, the marine sprang to his feet and the pair proceeded.


The pair entered the next chamber, cautiously, scanning the room briefly. Splitting up Michael headed to the left and Kiesha to the right. The room was full of collapsible shields, barriers the marines could quickly setup and move for temporary defense.

It seemed as if the room was as vacant of activity as it was sound. But then something caught the corner of Michael's eye as he slid along the left wall.

A trail of blue was streaked along the floor, extending all the way to the next, closed door. There had been fighting the marine proposed, they were getting close to the barracks anyway.

But then a thought dawned on him like a needler to the gut. What if when they got to the barracks, everyone there had already been killed? What if behind this next door, they found a slaughter? The possibility hadn't even been apparent to the marine until just now. If there are no survivors, what would be the next step?

Michael looked up from his thoughts, and across the room. Kiesha was giving a hand signal. Understanding she probably had spotted the trail of blood as well; he registered the signal to "move slowly" and complied. The pair crept towards the automatic door.

One design flaw of these doors was that when anyone got close enough, they would whoosh open automatically. This was a double edged sword after all, as while the function is convenient when moving quickly from room; it is not very practical in a combat situation. If individuals got to close to the door and it opened before they were properly positioned, the enemy on the other side would have, literally, a free shot.

When he was about four feet from the door, expectantly it opened automatically.

Immediately the pair was graced with the sight of a dead grunt, to whom belonged the trail of blood which had originally aroused the marine's suspicions.

Michael pulled out his optic cable once again and edged it around the side of the corner, not wanting to be surprised again. What he saw made him shudder slightly.

It looked like the devil himself had paid a visit to this particular hall, as the sight that presented itself was truly hellish. The first thing was the blood. The halls were painted with the bright shades, blue, purple, and red. It was not only on the floor, either, no; it covered the walls and the ceiling. Lumps in the smooth surface of the walls and ceiling were what Michael could have only guessed, chunks of flesh.

Corpses littered the floor, elites, jackals, grunts, and marines, many of which were not in one piece. Michael stepped into the hall, followed slowly by Kiesha. Kiesha, who had assumed her big, tough, professional, soldier attitude a few minutes ago, quickly lost it when she saw the sight. Bending over, she covered her mouth with one hand and wretched.

The entrance to the Bravo Company barracks was down the carnage-filled hall.

Michael took a single step onto the dried blood, which in many places had turned a dark, blackish color, probably when the blood of two of the various species present had mixed. He then took a long step over the unmoving mass of a dead grunt, its body pocked with bullet holes.

Kiesha swallowed and stepped onto the mess. She really didn't want to look at the mixture under her feet, but she really didn't have a choice, lest she stumble over one of the carcasses.

Michael strolled past a dead marine, his head missing, and his body barely distinguishable as human. He did however manage to catch the 128th insignia on the side of his upper arm. Shit. He thought.

Taking a few more paces past a trio of dead grunts, and into a section of hallway that was covered in a black, charred residue, Michael stopped down. The blackened area was probably from a grenade going off, as the smell was still heavy in the air.

Speaking of smells, the marine was relieved that the stench of death was not yet in the air. Since the atmosphere of the Moscow was incredibly sterile and free of bacteria, as all orbital platforms were, decomposition really hadn't taken any affect on the bodies yet.

Michael stopped. B Company, Panther Battalion barracks, read the small print on the top of the locked door.

Kiesha quickly emerged quickly and began fumbling for something in her hip pack. Michael could tell she was anxious to get in, anxious to see her comrades again. "Only my security card will open it, she said, this is after all my company," Kiesha stated, as she got out the small piece of plastic.

The Moscow was one of the oldest orbital defense platforms in existence and was still being refitted with the modern palm scanners, most other UNSC structures and ships employ. Until then however, they had to rely on these ancient key cards to get around. With a swipe of the card, Kiesha, a small grin on her face, lowered her arm as the door parted open.

She was met with a pistol to the forehead.


For a few seconds, neither marine moved, Michaels eyes still focused on the weapon that had just appeared. His eyes slowly made their way down the arm connected to the weapon and ended up at the head.

A pale, sweat laced face, short brown hair covered the top of the figures head.

"Easy marine, were humans," Michael said, moving his hands up slowly, in a gesture for the marine to lower his weapon. He expected the gun to be withdrawn immediately, as it was probably just a reflex from the soldier, however, the weapon remained stiff. Kiesha reacted at this moment: "Yeah, Tom, its just me remember?" There was no fear in her voice. The marine slowly lowered his weapon.

Michael let out his breath and at that moment noticed a few additional faces, behind the sweating face of their greeter. The marine finally got a hold of just how odd the situation seemed. They should be rejoicing that they had found additional company, however the air was awkwardly silent. What had happened to these marines?

Footsteps broke the silence, and the crowd parted, to allow the moving figure through. Kiesha too had sensed something amiss but just couldn't quite place it. The figure stopped and crossed his arms. "Well, soldiers, why are you just standing there, come on in and close that door," the man said brightly. Turning once more, the man began in the other direction. Michael and Kiesha quickly stepped in and closed the hatch behind them.

"It's good to see you again, Barker," the man with the pistol said. "Yeah, glad to have another bravo," another added. Michael slowly made his way past several people still a bit confused. Every person in here seemed… artificial, as if they had no personality.

The barracks was a long hall, bunks, stacked, two high, were located on both sides of the narrow passage. Marines lay in a few of the bunks, their eyes briefly glancing at the movement that shuffled by. The friendly man stopped and sat on one of the bunks. He motioned for Kiesha and Michael to sit on the opposite bunk.

"Sir what's going on here?" Kiesha blurted out quickly. Michael noticed the rank of 1st sergeant on the man's upper arms.

The man let out a sigh so slight, Michael barely caught it. "It's… been hell," he said in a low voice. "Waves of them, swarming us, ripping, biting with their bare teeth and claws," he began. "I have always seen the covenant as somewhat civil in combat, but this time…" "They were like animals, no coordination, or intelligence in their actions, just ferocity," the sergeant shuddered. "Many of them simply dropped their weapons and charged us, tearing at whatever they could get a hold of."

A bit taken aback by what the soldier was saying, Michael began to think instantly, considering countless possibilities as the marine kept talking.

"They were so fast, it was frightening," he continued. "We pulled back and locked ourselves in the barracks," he seemed to freeze. His face scrunched up slightly and his head lowered. He seemed as though the words were caught up in his throat, and he was fighting to get them out. "We-we were so taken with fear, we just…" he cleared his throat, shuffling some more on the bunk.

"Sir, Hudson, what happened," Kiesha said, placing her head close to the trembling marines face.

He looked up at her, eyes on the verge of tears. Kiesha was a bit shocked at the sight. In all the time she had known her 1st sergeant, he had never once displayed this level of emotion.

He took a deep breath, and spoke: "We shut our own men out. We wouldn't let them in for fear of facing the covenant. They begged us, they banged and yelled for us to open that door, but we were just too overcome with fear," He choked out. "Then the covenant came, shrieking like they were possessed, and all we could do was listen…"

The man stopped and cupped his face in his hands. "We had barricaded the door so the only way to open it was by force. Only when we were sure that the covenant had gone did we remove the barricade and check the hall," he concluded.

Michael was speechless. From what this man was saying, these marines, these men, were still in shock from the ordeal. But what could've have made the covenant so monstrous that they had frightened hardened marines senseless? Would these men even be able to fight? Michael knew what had to be done however; he needed to restore these marines morale. He prayed that they weren't so far gone that they couldn't be persuaded to even fight. He needed them after all, either that, or he would have to find some more, stable, soldiers.

The sergeant, his face still obscured, sat silently on his bunk, Kiesha talking to him slowly, trying to offer some consoling. Michael stood up, catching the young woman's attention in doing so. He gestured with his head to follow him. She complied and stood up.

The pair walked too the very end of the barracks, out of earshot of the dreary marines. In a low voice Michael began: "So what do you think?"

Kiesha was silent for a moment, as if in deep thought, trying to formulate just the right words to describe her thoughts. "I think that I'm glad to have some more marines to help with our mission," she said. "I don't think that there is any physical scarring on their minds, their just scared from the experience. All we have to do is help them get their confidence back," she concluded.

She had laid down the facts as clearly as he would have. Michael quickly ran his eyes down the long hall, counting its occupants.

Thirteen, there's thirteen of them, including Sergeant Hudson. Michael figured the fifteen of them in total would be enough to retake the bridge, that is, if they were willing to.

In this kind of situation rank didn't even matter anymore. 1st Sergeant Hudson was technically in command, but was no more mentally fit then any other marine in the barracks aside from Michael and Kiesha. Command was left to the clearest and most rational thinker, and regardless of rank, Michael was it.

He thought then, of words that would sooth the fears of the men in this dark, secluded hall. It was the only way that they would have a fighting chance. Thoughts still bustling about in his mind, Michael proceeded down the hall, past Sergeant Hudson, who was still deep in thought.

He walked down the hall until he was in the center of the dreary soldiers.

"Who here is a marine?" Michael called out loudly, breaking the dull silence. The men around him remained silent, a little surprised by the sudden action. "I'll say it again, who is a marine here?" Michael repeated just as loudly. The soldiers continued to stare at him, until a hint of movement got the groups attention.

A figure, now standing, gingerly raised his arm into the air. Michael looked at the man. He was young, no more then sixteen, he figured. "What's your name private," Michael said to the young soldier. "It's Brown sir, David Brown," he responded.

"One true marine eh, that's path…" Michael was cut off.

"Check yourself corporal," a deep voice boomed from behind Michael, causing him to turn quickly. He was met by the sight of a man nearly six inches taller then himself. "Every one of these men is marines, and I don't know who you think you are questioning them," he said in a low tone, almost threateningly. Not the least bit intimidated, Michael quickly responded: "With all respect sergeant, I would like to hear these 'marines' talk for themselves."

The man seemed to get angrier. "I'm their platoon leader, I speak for them," he said.

Michael turned from the fuming man and back at the cluster of soldiers behind him. A second man stood, hand rose defiantly. "I don't know what you're trying to prove sir, but I won't be called into question, the private first class said. No sooner had the words been uttered that a third then a fourth figure arose.

Kiesha walked over to the cluster of marines and sat down on a vacant bunk, fascinated by the scene.

"Don't feel guilty about your actions. There is no point in doing so. You cannot change what has already happened, so don't waste your life thinking that another course of action would have been better," Michael said, now that he had the marine's full attention.

"Fear may still have a grip on you but you need to fight it, overcome it and you will win. Focus on staying alive. Remember this, you are all still in a combat zone. So you all should still be in combat mode."

The thirteen soldiers around him were all as still as stone, quiet as the vacuum of space. Michael's words beginning to set in.

The lumbering sergeant behind Michael seemed to shrink slightly as his anger did as well. "I was never afraid in the first place," he mumbled. Sergeant Hudson finally arrived on the scene and looked down at Kiesha.

"Exactly where did you find this guy?" He asked her.

"Oh just wandering the station sir," she replied.