CHAPTER THREE: TOUCHDOWN
UNKNOWN ISLAND-CITY LANDMASS
FORMER BRIDGE OF SOJOURNER DREADNOUGHT
DIRECTOR OF VENGEANCE
The impact with the ground could be felt through the constraint fields supposedly protecting the UNSC strike force onboard. Spartan Matt Clarke mentally winced. If he felt like he had just been rammed by a Warthog, the Marines and Troopers would have it nearly twice as bad.
Aeona's holographic display winked out, as did every single light source on the bridge. Seconds later, the constraint field dissipated and the two Spartans collapsed to the floor. Spartan Jeremy Martinez was the first one up, the darkness around him peeling back against the glare of his helmet-mounted tactical light and the glow of his crimson plasma machete at full blaze. Clarke was next, quickly moving to the nearest Marine and checking his vitals.
As he knelt next to the Marine and raised his arm to acquire a pulse – or, worst-case scenario, the lack of one – the unaugmented soldier reacted by seizing the armored limb with his left hand and stabbing at the Spartan's faceplate with the standard-issue UNSC combat knife in his right. The blade collided with the Spartan's shields, barely draining their capacity by a whopping eight percent. SPARTAN-IV-311 subsequently pushed the offending limb to the side and wrapped it under his own left arm.
"Woah! Friendly! Lieutenant Matt Clarke, SPARTAN-Four-Three-One-One, Fireteam Apex! You're among friends, Lieutenant!"
The Marine in question grumbled a reply. "I don't particularly feel like it. What happ- the Knight!" The Marine bent upwards, launching himself into a sitting position, though still constrained by the hold on his right arm. "Where's Zebra Squad?"
"Easy! Easy, Lieutenant! The Knight's no longer a threat, it's contained." Inwardly, however, Clarke wasn't so sure. The entire ship seemed to have suffered a power outage when they touched down, and if whatever Aeona had used to keep Lochagos at bay was now offline… "You feel good to walk?"
The Marine's expression told the Spartan everything he needed to know. He released the unaugmented soldier's arm, then helped him to stand up. The three soldiers quickly moved around the room, checking on the other assorted Marines and Troopers. Clarke himself immediately beelined to the two previously-deceased personnel before keying TEAMCOM. "Hospitalman Bergon is dead." He paused for a second, before continuing. "Captain Donaldson has also died. You're in charge of Zebra Squad now, Lieutenant Sherman."
There was silence on the other end, broken only by a new voice chiming in. "Damn, Iceberg's dead? He owed me a case of malt… guess that's never going to be paid."
"Shut it, Snyder," the newly-minted CO of Zebra Squad snarled. "Count yourself lucky we survived at all… and that combat-fit personnel are at a premium right now."
"Can everybody please quiet down?" A softer voice nearly whispered over the channel. "My head's still pounding, and I'm having trouble seeing straight."
"That's because the lights are off, sug'," Snyder spoke, the grin almost audible. "Take your time, it's not like I can't feel my hand or nothing."
"Sure, Snyder, I'll... over. I'll try to reattach your hand in the proper order after I cut it off… a few times." There was no response from the Trooper in question.
"Hey, Martinez, do you have any flares on you?" Clarke abruptly inquired. "Would be nice to have more light."
The reply was quick and succinct. "Nothing that's not extremely hazardous to our health."
"Scratch that idea, then," Clarke shivered. Before that mission, the only thing that had truly scared him was spiders. His trifecta of fears consisted of that, being sucked out into space through a narrow crevice… and Jeremy Martinez' ideas for weaponry. Now, of course, it had changed since… that mission, but Jeremy Martinez still ranked third on the list.
The next six minutes consisted of checking vitals and getting Marines and Troopers to their feet. Surprisingly enough, the only major injury sustained by Zebra Squad – outside of the loss of Bergon and Donaldson – was a few shattered bones in Specialist Jason Snyder's right hand. Hospitalman Aubrey Devonshire tended to it as Lieutenant Jonathan Sherman conversed with the two Spartans.
"So, what happens now?"
"Well… we either wait until power is restored, or we start looking for a way out. I choose the latter. Lieutenant, organize Zebra Squad and take stock of our rations."
Lt. Sherman nodded affirmation before spinning on his heel and striding off towards the rest of his squad. Clarke turned towards his own fellow fireteam member. "We start at this point, make our way around the room, meet on the other side. If we see anything, we mark it and come back to it after finishing our sweep." With that said, Clarke pivoted on the spot and began to examine the wall in question as he walked forward. For the most part, it was featureless, with an utter lack of designs so often typical of Forerunner architecture. It was only when he made it halfway around the room – now stepping over the corpses of Zebra Squad's former CO and the other medic in the group – that Fireteam Apex's resident gunsmith spoke up over a private comm channel. "The teleporter's gone."
"Eh? Say again?"
"Teleporter's gone."
"Martinez, how thick would you say these walls are? With the power off, automated defense protocols wouldn't kick in, and repairs shouldn't happen either…"
"Could be anything from a few inches to 'thick enough to zero every power source we have'."
"We'll leave that as an option. Finish the sweep first."
"Copy, LEAD."
Less than seven seconds passed before Jeremy keyed the channel again. "Got a door here. It's small. Would have to crawl through."
"Might be for Sentinels. Any way to open it, provided we got the power from somewhere?" Clarke said as he continued his half of the sweep.
"Already half open. Not that thick. Can fit my hand across it."
"Fine, open it up. Don't go through though, wait for me to get there." Clarke finished his part of the sweep before moving over to Martinez' location. When the fireteam leader arrived, he whistled. "That's a small hole."
"Larger on the other side. Checked with VISR. Short hallway."
Clarke knelt in front of the hole, taking his own observations before replying. "I'll go through first."
"Copy." Martinez stood aside, allowing Clarke to crawl through the hole, at one point pushing his team leader through as his armor became caught on the frame.
"I'm through. You're right, it's a short hallway." A few steps forward carried him to the end. "Hold up, got another door here." Unlike the expected design of Forerunner doors, this one was more akin to that of UNSC construction, albeit made of Forerunner material. Clarke slid his hand along the middle bar, coming to rest on a handle set to the left of the direct center. The Spartan then pulled it out of its protective recess, braced himself on the ground – locking himself into place with mag-boots – and hauled back on the lever. The door hissed, sliding open halfway… and dim light spilled into the hallway.
There was no rush of air, no equalizing of pressure. Clarke unlocked his magnetized boots from the floor, reached for his sidearm… then growled when his hand yet again closed on nothing but air. "Martinez. Move up."
The echo of armored boots hitting the Forerunner floor indicated the approach of his teammate, and soon SIV-311 could see the thick barrel assembly of Jeb II in his peripheral vision. Martinez knocked his elbow against Clarke's own, signaling his positioning, before handing his sidearm to the fireteam leader. Both of their motion trackers showed no signatures. Both Spartans keyed their active camouflage systems before stepping out onto the alien world.
Clarke rapidly took in his surroundings, with both his and Jeremy's VISR cataloging every potential ambush point or potentially interesting facet of the terrain around them. Which… wasn't much. Atmospheric readings scrolled down the side of his HUD – the air was functionally breathable without sealed suits, which was good for the Marines.
"This is a bad spot," his teammate rumbled. Clarke had to signal his agreement to the statement. Massive cliffs rose on both sides of their landing zone, and a glance at the terrain on the other side of their impromptu base confirmed the geological issues with their position.
They were in a canyon.
METRU NUI – COLISEUM
ROYAL CHAMBER
Sidorak clenched his fist around the chunk of material that the Keelerak had brought him. One of many shards that had been scattered in that mysterious airship's wake as it had passed over his city, this particular one had come off of a considerably larger portion that had crushed a Kahgarak beneath it. The loss of even a Kahgarak was nothing that troubled the Horde as a whole, as the spider would be replaced within the next four cycles.
The sources of his aggravation came from the districts below. The one known by the former occupants of the city as Ta-Metru was the most problematic for the King of the Horde. Nearly three kio of the district had been consumed by the firestorm whipped up by the invasion towers – what else could they be – that had been dropped from the airship before it had disappeared. And his patrols in Le-Metru had encountered hostile contact around the southern invasion tower. Of course, his patrols had rapidly accumulated in force and overwhelmed the mechanical invaders, but not without sustaining considerable loss. No matter, four cycles is all that it would take to replenish their numbers.
The shard of unknown material in his grip refused to deform. Another annoyance to deal with. The Rahaga's hit and run attacks on his Horde was irritating, but nothing that could continue for long before one of them were to fail – and if the Horde were to capture one, the rest would undoubtedly stage a rescue. Then he could deal with them all, in one swoop. Such was the folly of so-called heroes.
Sidorak activated his herding sword, holding it above his head before bringing it to bear in the direction of the invasion towers to the northwest. One had already been seen slipping beneath the waves of the Silver Sea. His Visorak were already hard at work reconstructing the bridge to the Matoran's Temple, after it had been destroyed by the waves kicked up by the tower's plunge into the sea. If only it had landed on the old Temple. He would have gladly taken the challenge of potentially dealing with more mechanical Kofo-Rama if it had resulted in the destruction of the landmark.
A brief aura of crimson energy emanated from his blade as he signaled for a patrol of Venom Fliers to scout the area around the two landing points. A stronger glow signified a combined force of Visorak to head for Po-Metru and overwhelm any foreign Kofo-Rama that they encountered.
Swinging his herding tool to the northeast, he repeated the command, before tossing the shard of material into the air and unleashing a punishing blast of energy from his blade. The laser punched into the unknown metal, sending it flying away and out of sight.
The Matoran were his. The City was his. And no Rahaga, Rahi, Vahki, or challenger could change that. All would, in time, be added to his legend of conquest.
UNKNOWN ISLAND-CITY LANDMASS
CANYON SURROUNDING FORMER BRIDGE OF DIRECTOR OF VENGEANCE
The two Spartans walked back to the airlock after a cursory examination of the right side of their base. The structure had buried itself into the cliff upon impact, which had been exceedingly lucky not to have caused a rockslide and subsequently bury the former bridge beneath a few thousand tons of alien stone.
As Clarke and Martinez passed the aperture, a soft blue glow from inside drew their attention. Clarke held his teammate's heftier-than-normal M6C at the ready as he peered inside, taking note of the position from where the glow was emanating. A section of the entrance hall's wall had slid aside, revealing some sort of armor within. SIV-311 signaled for APEX FOUR to take a glance at it.
"Probably dangerous."
APEX LEAD blinked agreement over the pair's TEAMCOM – and was surprised when the machine blinked back. An objective marker abruptly appeared above the armor, and a message scrolled across the top of the two Spartans' HUDs.
'OBJECTIVE: HI AEONA_WINONA HERE PUT ON THE INTERFACE GAUNTLET'
Clarke blinked again, before verbally responding; "How do we know-"
'OBJECTIVE: AEN-411-8190-4902 MAT PUT THE GAUNTLET ON WE NEED TO RESTORE POWER NOW'
SIV-311 tensed. 'Mat.' Either the Knight was a cheeky bugger, there had been some other intelligence onboard the ship, or…
'OBJECTIVE: THE LONGER WE ARE WITHOUT POWER THE HIGHER THE CHANCE OF FUBAR'
Clarke sighed, before handing Martinez' customized M6C back to him. APEX LEAD stepped inside the hall, decloaking as he stepped inside. "Anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to shoot. Preferably in the arm or something."
A single green flash on TEAMCOM was the only acknowledgement he received from Fireteam Apex's sharpshooter. "Right," he sighed, now standing in front of the armor piece, which he could now see to be something for a forearm. "Better not be a trick." He sucked in a breath, before reaching forward and picking it up.
'OBJECTIVE: EQUIP INTERFACE GAUNTLET ON LEFT (NON-DOMINANT) ARM'
Clarke gritted his teeth, turning to face SIV-322; his VISR system picking up the outline of Martinez, Jeb II ready and waiting to spit fury downrange. In that moment, Clarke knew how the Covenant must have felt whenever his team was on the field.
He slipped the Forerunner gauntlet into place, and his HUD blanked out.
UNKNOWN ISLAND-CITY LANDMASS
LANDING ZONE BRAVO/TWO
-PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED, SETUP COMMENCING
-ONBOARD BIOLOGICALS STILL IN PROTECTIVE STASIS
-WAITING ON REQUIRED COMMAND CODES TO RELEASE STASIS LOCK
-DEPLOYING BASIC COUNTERMEASURE ASSETS TO ESTABLISH PRIMARY PERIMETER
-CONSTRUCTOR SENTINELS ASSIGNED TO SET UP POWER NODES
-INTERNAL RESTRUCTURING COMMENCING, CONTROL NODE CONSTRUCTION IN PROGRESS
ALRT: LOCAL ARACHNID SUPERPREDATOR FAUNA DESIGNATED HOSTILE
ALRT: CANNOT CONTACT COMMAND MODULE
ALRT: CANNOT CONTACT MODULES FOUR, FIVE, AND SEVEN
ALRT: MODULE SIX IN FIRE, CANNOT INITIATE EXTERNAL SETUP PROTOCOLS
-REDIRECTING BASIC COUNTERMEASURE LANCE FOR AERIAL SURVEILLANCE
ALRT: CONTROL NODE CONSTRUCTION FINISHED, ATTEMPTING ALIGNMENT
ALRT: ALIGNMENT FAILURE
ALRT: TRANSMISSION RECEIVED FROM MODULE SEVEN ASSET, HOSTILE LOCAL ARACHNID SUPERPREDATOR FAUNA NEUTRALIZED DEFENSIVE CORDON OF BASIC COUNTERMEASURE ASSETS
PRIORALRT: ARACHNID SUPERPREDATOR FAUNA ATTACKS IN MASS CAN ALSO IDENTIFY AND SELECT PRIORITY TARGETS
PRIORALRT: ARACHNID SUPERPREDATOR NOW CLASSIFIED AS APEX SUPERPREDATOR
PRIORALRT: LARGE FORCE OF ARACHNID APEX SUPERPREDATOR SPECIES SPOTTED APPROACHING IN DIRECTION OF LANDING ZONE BRAVO/TWO, APPROX. THREE POINT SIX HOURS OUT.
ALRT: ARACHNID APEX SUPERPREDATOR FORCE HAS APPARENT AIR SUPPORT, BASIC DEFENSIVE STRUCTURES REQUIRED
ALRT: INSUFFICIENT POWER
-PRIORITY: CONSTRUCTION SHIFTED TO POWER NODES
-INTERNAL LOCKDOWN COMMENCING
PRIORALRT TO MODULE THREE: EQUIVALENT ATTACK LIKELY. PRECAUTIONS ARE NECESSARY.
PRIORALRT TO MODULE SIX: EQUIVALENT ATTACK LIKELY. PRECAUTIONS ARE NECESSARY. TEMPORARY PROTECTION DUE TO FIRESTORM.
PRIORALRT TO ALL MODULES TO BE REPEATED: EQUIVALENT ATTACK LIKELY. PRECAUTIONS ARE NECESSARY.
PRIORALRT TO COMMAND MODULE: ESTIMATE REDUCED ARACHNID APEX SUPERPREDATOR NUMBERS TO REACH COMMAND MODULE. PRECAUTIONS ARE NECESSARY.
RPT PRIORALRTS UNTIL RECEIVED