Level 3: The Motley Crew
After at least a quarter of an hour they emerged into the light illuminating the surface of the Delta Halo ring world.
Dennis couldn't help but stop and stare in both awe and fear as he gazed over the sweeping arc visible in the sky that was the rest of the Delta Halo ring world. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly and then snapped them open again as if somehow the world would go back to what he considered to be normal by this action. But alas…it was not to be and the alien sight remained steadfast in his vision.
The land around him that he now followed the Chief through was enclosed on most sides by towering cliffs as well as the edifice they had left. The ground was sandy and bore the tread marks of military vehicles that had torn at the ground at high speeds before screeching to an unsteady halt. Burns and charring marred the sheer walls as well as the sand and the giant boulders that littered the scene here and there as if a passer by had carelessly dumped them to deliberately impede the progress of travellers rather than them being left by nature.
A little distance away, six marines were lazing about on some rocks and a couple of Warthogs.
Chief approached with a jaunty spring in his step and many humorous thoughts buzzing around inside his head, most of them to do with the UNSC marines' reaction to Dennis.
It didn't take them long to spot the newcomer and start gawping.
The Chief sighed inwardly; this was going to take some explaining…he didn't like the expressions that they were starting to give him.
"He followed me home," The Chief called out, "Can we keep him?"
"What am I to you, a damn pet?" Dennis sneered.
If he hadn't been wearing the helmet, you would have seen Chief grinning like an idiot.
"Who is he?" One sergeant of the two in the UNSC marine unit asked.
"I found him inside. The Monitor dragged him here to try to get him to activate Delta Halo."
"Why him? Who is he?"
Introductions would be useful, Chief.
"Right!" Chief announced, clapping his hands together and rubbing them in a business like manner. "Listen carefully people because I don't want to repeat myself."
Everyone stared at everyone else alternately.
"This," Chief said as he patted Dennis heavily on the shoulder; nearly, accidentally, giving the poor man a broken collarbone to add to his list of injuries, "is Sergeant Riley. You can also call him Dennis. That's pretty much all he'll say unfortunately. He comes in handy and seems to be on our side, he's also willing to tag along and follow orders so be nice."
The marines glared and studied the unusual uniform of Dennis.
"Now," Chief continued. He worked his way down the line of marines and pointed to each respectively. "This is Sergeant Johnson, Sergeant Dakes, Private Martins, Private Macoon, Private Painter and Private Thring, who is more commonly known as Mr. Speed-Limit as he finds it difficult to exceed 30mph even on open flat land. As you can imagine, he doesn't get to drive often."
Thring stuck his nose up at this statement. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to be safe!"
Painter, the sole female member, slapped Thring upside the head. "Shaddup ya pansy."
Dennis took a good look at them all and wished that he was back with the Sentinel Major even though the mere thought of the giant metal car crusher caused his ribs to flare in agony. He got the feeling that his new comrades were going to give him trouble.
"What the hell do you think you're wearing?" Sgt Johnson demanded, with his ever-present cigar bobbing between his lips as he spoke.
"It was developed by Adaptive Armaments under commission of the Navy SEALS to be the ultimate in protective combat suits. It has excellent ventilation and water resistance and is bulletproof against even medium-arms. The Type Two, which is this one, also has thermal properties to protect against arctic conditions."
"Well, you're gonna boil here, mate." Painter snorted.
"Do we still have the medical equipment?" Chief asked the group in general.
"Only half of what we should have thanks to Painter's stunts." Sgt Dakes sighed. He was referring to the fact that she was Thring's polar opposite; she should have been a stunt driver or daredevil. "We lost everything we had in the Warthog except ourselves because she rolled it again. Ammunition…med packs…weapons…all of it gone…oh, and Macoon's helmet as he neglected to do it up again. That's right, Macoon, you look at your feet in shame."
"Why didn't you stop to pick them up?" Chief queried. "I know we had a rendezvous time, but still."
"Stop? With a Wraith up our arses? Try again." Johnson said with a laugh.
"You got it then?" Chief said while looking around at the Wraith free area.
"Of course, eventually, but we would have been a lot better off if Martins could shoot straight and Thring didn't take so long aiming."
Both of the accused began to argue their defences. "I have a really bad cold." Martins snapped. "I'm tanked up with drugs and I still can't keep my eyes open. I'd be fine if I could see."
At the same time, Thring made his case. "I'm just trying to be accurate."
Painter started to giggle.
"And you can shut your trap." Sgt Dakes said to silence her. "I don't know which is worse about you; the way you drive or the rate at which you use up ammo."
"I'd say driving." Chief stated with a sincere nod of his head. "But that aside, can you snag a med kit and take a look at Riley; I think his chest's broken."
"How can you break a chest?" Sgt Dakes wondered out loud as he sifted through the battered contents of a compartment in the Warthog Painter hadn't topped.
"Quite easily; he got picked up by a Sentinel Major."
Every marine present stared long and hard at Dennis while Macoon summed up their thoughts in three simple words. "And he survived?"
"I'm still breathing aren't I?" Dennis replied and rested himself against the cold hard side of one Warthog. "Look, people, I don't mean to sound rude but I would rather just find a way to get back to where I aught to be. That Monitor whatsit brought me here so it can damn well reverse it. I just have to find it. Don't worry, I'm not going to activate anything and wipe out all self aware life forms in the universe."
"You really want to leave, don't you?" Chief said, standing in front of him with his arms crossed.
"There's somewhere that I need to be, somewhere where there are people counting on me. I have to get back. I've got a mission to complete."
"I suppose you still won't tell me what it was?"
"Not a chance, tin man." He said, though it was intended as a friendly term and not an insult in any way shape or form.
"It was worth a try. Well…if you're really set on getting back then you're right; I can't stop you. I don't have any authority over you. The Monitor will probably be in the Control Room."
"Point me in the right direction and I'll be on my way."
"Can't let you do that; you wouldn't last five minutes if you encountered an enemy, not in your condition."
"I won't ask for help."
"Would you accept it if it was offered?"
"I might do. I wouldn't want to be a burden though."
Sgt Dakes butted in. "Can you quit the bonding session and let me fix this guy up?"
Chief grunted and gestured for him to go ahead.
Sgt Dakes looked Dennis up and own. "Alright, off with the jacket."
"I'll be fine." Dennis said, clutching the front of his suit.
"Come on, don't be shy, we're all men here…well, except for Painter bit if that bothers you she can face away."
Dennis glared, huffed and gave in. he dumped his SPR4 on the passenger seat of a Warthog and began unfastening the top half of his suit. (A/N - ok people, I think I made a mistake in Den's original description…it's a bit hard to tell but it might actually be one whole piece suit, not a jacket and trousers…and I'm too lazy to re-post the first chapter right now.) The Gloves and watch came off, were placed next to his gun and then he proceeded to pull of the top half and roll it down to his waist. Now bare chested the thick dark bruises left by the Sentinel Major's claws were glaringly obvious and almost painful to look at.
"Damn…" Sgt Dakes winced in sympathy. "Well…I can patch up the outside and give you something to help kill the pain but if there is any internal damage there's nothing I can do. You'll need to pay a visit to an infirmary ASAP if that's the case."
"I know…but where am I going to find one around here?"
"Good point, now hold still." He started work with bandages and numbing gel to ease the pain but Dennis wasn't really co-operating. "Look! Will you just hold still…stop wriggling!"
"I can't help it!" Dennis whined. "It hurts! Arg! Ow! Watch it! Gya!"
Everybody else smirked and giggled while watching the two sergeants of different marine units fought each other in a rather girly manner; Sgt Dakes trying to finish wrapping Dennis up while Dennis tried to bat his hands away.
Eventually Dennis ended up with neat bandages strapping his chest and he was finally allowed to pull his uniform on again.
Chief handed him back his gloves, watch and gun and then crossed his arms again in a thoughtful manner, head slightly tilted.
"'sup Chief?" Sgt Johnson asked offhandly, rolling the cigar smoothly from one side of his mouth to the other…which was quite an achievement when you consider he didn't use his hands.
"We're going to have to have a chat with the Monitor. If it was able to yank Riley all the way here then there is a great possibility that it'll keep dragging people until it finds someone who'll comply. For now we're safe enough, as I have the Index but still…plus, as we were coming out of that place both the Flood and the Covenant seemed to be laying low. I don't like this one bit. There is something more to what the Monitor had planned. Maybe at first it was just to bring and convince Riley but I have a horrible feeling that it's progressed beyond that now."
"Plus we'll need to get him sent home." Sgt Johnson reminded him.
"Hmm…right…as I said; our best bet is to squeeze the info out of the Monitor."
"If it makes you feel any better about this whole stinkin' mess, I think the Monitor won't be hard to find. Just before you came outside I think I saw it bobbing about up there." He pointed vaguely in the direction of the large open balcony area above the entrance.
Chief peered. "It's somewhere to start. You alright with this?"
Johnson raised one eyebrow. "Not really, but that doesn't mean I won't do my bit and follow along. I might even take point if I'm feeling generous."
Chief nodded. "Let's go then. Onwards and upwards."
Hopefully, to some answers. Cortana added quietly.
'Yeah, that would make a nice change.'
Johnson, oblivious to the internal conversation reverberating about the Chief's helmet, turned to his troops. "Alright ladies, pack up your troubles and let's move out. We've got an elusive little creature to find and it's called an 'answer'…they're pretty rare but you may have heard of them, they tend to be attracted to humming blue boxes."
The marines, including Dennis, grumbled an agreement and set themselves ready to go.
Before they went about their business, the Chief had one last thing to say to them as a whole. "I'm pretty sure that there's more to this than meets the eye so keep your wits about you and don't be afraid to call anything you consider suspicious to the attention to the rest of us. You got that Riley?"
Dennis rolled his eyes and nodded, understanding the pointed hint about his reaction to that locked room a while back. "Sure thing, boss."
And so with those last words of wisdom, all eight of them made their way back inside the depths from which the Chief had only just emerged. Just as before it was eerily quiet and empty but for the corpses of those long since dead by the Chief's and Dennis' hands. Other than that the silence was grating and gradually took its toll on the men (and woman) that cautiously took their steps within it. 'Uncomfortable' would be a highly incorrect world to use to describe the almost palpable sense of unease and tension that emanated from the marines. Chief, Dennis and Johnson managed to keep their cool but the worried glances from Dakes, Martins and Macoon plainly showed their vague distress about the situation they had been thrown into. As for the last two members of the motley crew Painter, though just as nervous as the next person, wore a worrying gin that indicated she was looking forward to blowing up something new while Thring was little more than a quietly jittering wreck that had to be encouraged to keep moving. Such encouragement tended to be along the lines of Chief threatening to plug him in the back of the head if he didn't keep pace…Thring could push anyone to the end of their tether.
This state of affairs continued until even Thring was beginning to wish that something would actually happen just to get it over with. The waiting, they all concluded, was always far worse than anything that could be hiding in the silence.
As Chief moved swiftly to clear the length of yet another corridor he was halted by the voice of the cold inflicted Martins.
"Chief, Sarge, guys…and gal…I, uh," he paused to sniff, "I think I hear something."
Out of sheer nervous boredom they all hurried over to the corridor that Martins had his rifle aimed down.
"What is it?" Johnson asked, staring into the dank depths that seem no different to all the others to him.
"Listen." Martins told him, raising a finger to his ear.
Peering over each others shoulders and looking for all the world like a bunch of curious kids they listened intently to the vague humming tune beyond the shadows.
Well that's familiar Cortana said.
"Ah, the Monitor." Chief announced happily and stared towards the source of the sound. "Ok, people; follow that melody."
And that is what they did, for god knows how long. They stalked the corridors like animals with a song as their prey, tracing it through the maze of passages until the little computerized annoyance heralded by a soft blue glow came into their field of vision in the middle of one of the more open areas…yet again littered with the dead.
Hiding around the corner, Johnson grabbed Chief's arm to keep him back.
"What if it runs…well floats…when it sees us? Or zaps itself somewhere?"
"We'll have to catch it." Dennis commented, taking a glance past the wall to confirm the Monitor was still there.
"Don't worry. I've got it covered." Chief assured them both.
Oh you do, do you? Cortana asked, voice laced with disbelief.
Without another word, Chief shoved his rifle into Johnson's hand and pelted away from the group towards the Monitor.
The Monitor had just about enough time to see the cyborg running full tilt towards it and begin to process the problem when the Chief jumped up, slammed his fist down violently on top of it and knock it into the floor so hard that it bounced twice before skittering away and slamming into Dennis boot.
Just on general principals, Dennis gave it a swift, firm kick to send it back to the Chief.
The Monitor struggled back up into the air and was faced with seven rifles aimed in it s direction.
Johnson tossed the Chief back his weapon and an eighth was added to the threat.
"Well isn't this nice?" Chief asked. "By the way, if you try to go anywhere without permission you'll end up in a hail of bullets so please think carefully. We only want a word, y'know."
The Monitor considered his options, which were depressingly few, and decided to stay put. "And what is it, exactly, that you wish to speak of?"
"You and your stupid plans, that's what." Chief snapped. "Just what the hell were you thinking, bringing this guy here just to try and bully him into activating this place? What, had you finally given up on me? Didn't want to try the Marines? So sick of all of us that you had to go to…to…godknowswhere to find some random man who doesn't have a clue what's going on!"
The Monitor seemed to huff…though how an electronic appliance can huff is anyone's guess. "Well-" but he was cut off by and irate super-soldier.
Chief pointed rudely. "Get the message; no-one is going to activate the Installation, we'll make sure of it. I'll make sure of it."
"You may change your mind." The Monitor replied.
"No, never."
"I'm afraid that the threat has grown somewhat."
"What do you mean?" Chief growled.
The Marines looked about nervously as if they expected something to jump out of the walls.
"You human are so self-centred. The Installation needs to be activated to wipe out the Flood out for good, but no, you wouldn't be the ones to give the sacrifice for the greater good. Do you think that sentient life would not return after a few million years?"
"It's in our genes to protect ourselves and our blood-line; to allow our species to survive. We're only doing what we were born to do. Now what does that have to do with this bigger threat?"
"Well, after hearing so many refusals to activate the Installations I decided to take action myself. I thought that it would work…the calculations and predictions all showed success."
"Success of what?"
"The destruction of the Flood through the introduction of a bacteria strain. I discovered it when bringing him to the Installation." At the word of 'him' the Monitor bobbed in the direction of Dennis.
Dennis suddenly looked ready to collapse into a quivering wreck on the floor while the Monitor continued to explain the diabolical plan. "I saw the potency of the bacteria and realised that it could be used against the Flood as they are, after all, biological entities capable of being infected and infested by it. My plan was then to release the chemical would eliminate what was left after the Flood were destroyed by it. But I overlooked the complete specifications of the chemical and I've now found that it only reverses the process when injected into individual cases. Unfortunately…that information was a little late coming to me."
"What have you done?" Chief demanded.
"I brought back, from that human's time, several examples of infectants to spread the virus. The ten infected insects have been here for at least an hour."
"No!" Dennis roared out loud as he charged forward and grabbed the Monitor with both hands. "You bastard! You god damned idiot! You brought Hydras!" he proceeded to slam the Installation 'guardian' repeatedly against the closest wall. "Hydras! How could you! How could you!"
Pieces were beginning to be smashed and knocked out of the Monitor from the force of the blows Dennis was inflicting while he began to turn a rage purple colour.
"Woah!" Painter, Dakes and Macoon yelped in unison as they pounced on the manic marine and, with difficulty, pulled and dragged him away. They pushed him roughly to the floor and held him there until he calmed down and returned to his usual skin tone rather than the deeper shade of beetroot.
With its light flickering and the odd few parts now missing, the Monitor tried to fly away…only to be snatched out of the air ad be leant on by the Chief; sandwiched between the wall and the Spartan's hand.
Now he was calm, the marines let Dennis go. He promptly buried his head in his hands without even bothering to get up. "This can't be happening to me..."
"You might want to explain now." Chief suggested.
To be continued…Author's Note – Due to an insistent e-mail, this fic struggles its way through another chapter. I'm sorry it took so long but between exams and my imagination going on strike it just wasn't going anywhere fast. Hopefully I'll have some ideas soon. Thank you to everyone who has deemed this monstrosity worthy of a review and I can only hope that you're still reading it.
Jaken – Err…well…its, um, a bit of all of that really. The problem is that I've never seen the games from start to finish so I just pick up on whatever X-Mep is playing at the time. The games and locations are mixed up and for that I apologise. It seems, however, that the location is predominantly based on 'The Great Journey' (or so I've been told). Yes…I know that means that none of what I'm writing could really be going on because of where characters are supposed to be (ect) but…well…just consider it AU. Sorry…it's the best I could do when I couldn't get the info I wanted.