IV
The Unggoy were diligent, if nothing else.
In the midst of the human attack, a few of the hardly aliens remained in their place around one of the methane pools around the compound. Their orders were clear: harvest the liquid life and transport it to the Huragok to process. Their lives depended on their efforts, which gave them a sense of pride above the others. They worked while their fellow brethren fought over food and mating rights. There was so more on this desolate human moon than squabbling. No, their chances weren't great for survival, but they were making it work.
But a great deal commotion was rumbling from within the compound. Gunshots. Explosions. Faint screams. Maybe they needed to halt their work efforts for the moment, see if the others needed help exterminating the human invaders. The humans were a sturdy bunch, fast and hard to kill. They were smart, too, just like the Sangheili, but greatly less intimidating. The pounding was growing louder and louder, building up until it reached its crescendo.
A pair of doubled doors, sealed to keep the compound's atmosphere from venting, was blown out in an emerald explosion of light. The two humans stammered out, rolling down the downward incline before frantically scrambling to their feet. Unggoy were in pursuit, hot on their intrusive heels. It was settled. Harvesting the methane would could wait. The humans needed to die.
Cover was scarce, and only sliver of protection Jacen and Naomi could find was a humming, generator of thing that the Grunts weren't too pleased they were hiding behind. It was Covenant tech for sure: smooth surface, indigo in color, and florescent lights running down its body. A flexible hose extended from its body that disappeared into the methane pool below. Measures of the colorless liquid was dumped into containers behind the machine, but they were beginning to overflow.
The Grunts around the pool held their fire, begun to spread out to flank them. They wouldn't risk damaging their precious machine. Jacen didn't share their pattern of thinking. He slipped his hand into his chest rig, folding his hand around his last frag grenade. In a smooth, non-threatening gesture, he eased the explosive underneath the machine with his thumb against the release.
"We take off around the backside of the building. We'll keep going until we reach the depot."
Naomi sighed grievously. "You're gonna have every Grunt in this place wanting our heads."
Jacen gave a nonchalant shrug. "They can get in line."
He hit the release and turned to run with Naomi already ahead of him. The Grunts around the pool scrambled across the slush-like terrain and lumbered after them with guns blazing. Out of the mangled doors came the rest of them, the silver Grunt leading the charge. It caught a glimpse of the humans in the corner of its eye, disappearing around the corner of the building.
"Back inside," it commanded. "We cut them off."
The silver Grunt and its companions were thrown back inside the compound by the detonated grenade. A brilliant explosion of cerulean and red-orange heat curled up, the frigid air extinguishing it almost suddenly. The methane harvesting machine was eviscerated, leaving behind smoking particles and bent components.
The silver Grunt rocked its way upright, staggering to the left and to the left before finding its equilibrium. Gray smoke ascended from the remains of the machine, coupled with hundreds of gallons of wasted methane that was lost forever. The silver Grunt hammered its fists into the ground repeatedly, picked up its cannon, and shoved its underlings aside. "We kill them. We kill them now!"
Naomi and Jacen slowed up about halfway around the compound, recharging what little energy they had left. They still had a ways to go. The compound was quadrilateral in shape with irregular additions jutting out. It turned a simple round trip into a zig-zag fest where every corner could've potentially housed a threat. Architecture at its worst, Naomi thought. She checked their oxygen levels: She was holding at 8%, while Jacen's had dropped to 6%. That was roughly less than fifteen minutes of air until they could fill up at the Hog, which was a ten minute hike from the compound. Why'd they have to park so far?
They made it around to the vehicle depot without incident, only to be hindered by the expanse of open ground in front of them. Jacen knelt at the depot's edge, peering across the asphalt road and out into the Titan landscape. To simply run was the obvious choice, but it meant they would be easiest targets to take down. With no viable cover to speak of, save for the checkpoint booth, there was nothing to protect them from enemy fire. Grunts may've been cowardly and individually weak, but that didn't automatically make them bad shots. Even a novice could hit a target in the open.
"So…?" Naomi squeezed through heavy breaths.
Jacen got on his hands and knees, creeping forward to steal a look inside the depot. A few Grunts were wandering about inside, holding carbines loosely in their hands. Some kicked and meddled with the old Warthogs near them, grumbling and squeaking in their tongue. If they were waiting to ambush them, then maybe it was time to flip the script.
Jacen slid back into a crouch. "There are some in the depot. I don't know how many—three or four."
Naomi tightened the straps on her pack and checked the battery on her plasma pistol. Good enough. "We can take 'em. Quick sweep, then make a run for it."
Jacen agreed. He snatched his knife from the sheath on his chest, a serrated six inch blade with "REAPER" carved into the metal. Reaper in hand, he looked over his shoulder at Naomi and nodded.
They sneaked inside the depot, each taking one side of the room. Jacen crept alongside one of the Warthogs, taking one of the Grunts that was standing near its hood. He sunk the blade into alien's throat, sliding through the flesh and vocal chords like a tender steak. Taking its carbine, he eased its body quietly on the floor.
The other Grunts were harder to reach, standing on the platform in front of the airlock. There were three of them. Naomi had wedged herself between the wall and a diagnostic worktable, just wide enough for her slender frame to fit through. A collection of stripped and rusted screws and washers were strewn by her feet. She picked up a handful of them and, gearing her hand back to thrown them. She never would.
The airlock's doors barely parted open before the silver Grunt and its companions rushed through. The underlings in the depot shrieked, startled. One dropped its weapon and scrambled to pick it up. Growls came from the silver Grunt. It shoved aside one of the three, spitting out orders that sent the subordinates running to their positions.
Naomi tensed. One of the munchkins was about to waddle past the workstation. It was now or never. They weren't going anywhere until they cleared the depot. When the Grunt came within striking distance, Naomi forced all 125lbs of her mass into the workstation, tipping it over on the Grunt. It cried out from the station crashing down on its legs. She shot the thing point blank with the plasma pistol before unloading the rest of the battery on the seven total Gas-breathers on the platform.
The Grunts dispersed, firing in Naomi's general direction.
Jacen vented a slew of expletives. So much for a 'quick sweep' Naomi suggested. He stood up, alien carbine in hand, and gutted open a Grunt pair that had clustered together. Their bodies dropped, one of them rolling off the platform. The next thing he saw was just an intense light and the sudden sensation he was airborne. A dismembered wheel smacked against him, throwing him across the grease-stained floor in a continuous roll. Something hard ceased his tumble, igniting an explosion of pain. The Warthogs that were inside were blown into contortion; one inverted, the other on its side against the wall.
He secured his fingers around the carbine, rolling the hell out of dodge and underneath the inverted Hog. On his knees just below the passenger seat, he struggled to concentrate through the shaky, cloudy vision. His body was running absent from his mind as it lagged to catch up to what was happening. There was just noise. And then there was the malady of pain cradling his torso. It felt like his ribs. Whether bruised or broken, he'd have to assess it later. For now, he had to wrap his mind around the fact a bulky, gauntleted hand had seized his left ankle and proceeded to pull aggressively.
Jacen was yanked out from underneath the Warthog by one of the Grunts who stuck its alien pistol directly against the faceplate of his helmet. He had the presence of mind to swat the thing's forearm before the luminous orb of charged plasma boiled through his faceplate and subsequent face. Snatching his M40 sidearm, he pulled the trigger three times. He didn't know where the bullets landed, but they must've hit their mark. Florescent gore coated his clothing as the full weight of the Grunt fell atop his body, dead. He shoved it off and stood up without being aware of it. Three Grunts, seemingly in unison, jerked their heads around to flag him and immediately started shooting. Jacen's heart rocketed into his throat and he dropped to the floor as plasma crisscrossed overhead.
Another boom.
The adjacent Warthog was blown in fractions across the depot. Glass, metal, rubber, and parts went in every direction. Jacen covered his head with his thoughts running straight to Naomi. Just where the hell was she. Was she alive, injured, hiding? It could've been possibly all the above, but he just hoped she wasn't dead. He wouldn't let his fears run wild. Until he saw a body, she was alive and fighting.
The Grunts were moving in now, cautious and trigger-happy. Every spark or perceived threat was met with gunfire. Jacen scooped up the alien carbine and crawled out from under the vehicle, strafing right as he aimlessly fired onto the Grunts. He slid feet-first behind the burning mass of the second Warthog that was a twisted shell of itself. There was still no sign of Naomi.
"Naomi, you copy me?" He fired over his head, feeling the vibrations from the plasma impacts from the opposite side. "Give me something. Anything."
An acknowledgement light winked once in the bottom right corner of his HUD.
Jacen thought it may've been a stray spark, maybe a flare from the nearby flames. But then the light winked again, then twice more in rapid succession a full second later. He finally exhaled the roiling angst inside his body, only for it be replaced with a knotted sensation in his gut. He rose up amidst the hellish gunfire and lined down his. The Grunt in the silver armor had ditched its fuel rod cannon—thankfully—and resumed its onslaught with a needler. Two more were by its side. Jacen dropped one of them with a few shots before having to retreat into cover.
And then Naomi appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Where she'd been hiding remained a mystery to Jacen, but he didn't ask any question. He just watched. The woman bolted against the Grunts' blindside, jumped up onto the platform, and shot down the Grunt that was on the right. She threw the empty plasma pistol at the silver armored alien, knocking off its aim before it could fire back. Like some type of battering ram, Naomi plowed her body into the Grunt. Its carbine went flying as the two of them fell together. She recovered, wrapped her arms around the midget's neck and began to squeeze.
The Grunt squirmed and bucked like an unbroken stallion, gargling to breath. It lunged back with incredible strength, backpedaling into the wall and dislodged its human attacker. Spinning around, it lashed out with a vicious forearm swing and connected against Naomi's hip. The hit took her down to the floor as the Grunt clawed its way on top of her. It furiously hammered her blow after blow like an incensed ape, striking any opening it could fire. Naomi could only hold her arms up, protecting her head as the Grunt used her body as its personal punching bag,
Jacen sprinting across the depot, vaulted onto the platform, and leapt on the Grunt's back to pull it off. The alien was no deterred. It shook him off, throwing an elbow back and hit him dead center in his chest. The air was snatched from his lungs as he was thrown back, and the Grunt went back to clobbering Naomi. Jacen sat with, fighting to restore the captive breath to his lungs. He went for his knife, crawled on his hands and knees back to the Grunt, and jammed the blade so far into its neck that a portion of the hilt went into the skin. He snatched the knife out at an angle, taking an artery with it.
The silver Grunt convulsed with a nauseating choking cry and fell off of Naomi before slowly dying. A wheezing Jacen made it over to Naomi, said nothing, and extended his hand to her. She took it in silence as they helped one another to their feet, her hip nearly giving out on the way up. Jacen stretched her right arm over his shoulder and hobbled down the few steps from the platform to the floor.
"Can you walk?" he asked her.
"Screw walking." She slid her arm from his shoulders. "We gotta run. More'll come."
"Get out in front." Jacen positioned her out in front of him. "I'm right behind you."
It was an ugly, hard run back to the Hog. They made it out pass the checkpoint booth and out into the vast emptiness. The hike through the slush-like soil aggravated every nick, bruise, and injury they'd sustained. They kept running, occasionally looking back to make sure they weren't being followed. Thin wisps of smoke slowly vented from the distant vehicle depot of the compound was growing smaller and smaller as they went. It was difficult not to think about the possible repercussions. To say the raid when sideways was a gross understatement. They'd get an earful when they got back to camp, but Jacen pushed the thoughts in the dark recesses of his mind.
The Hog was sitting right where they left it. Jacen went through the mandatory checklist: engine, hydraulics, brakes, fuel, and the all-important heater that kept everything from freezing. Everything was operational. He pulled himself into the driver's seat with various grunts, expletives, and a permanent grimace. Naomi tossed her pack full of Covenant weaponry in the back and struggled into the seat next to Jacen. She reached for the oxygen canisters behind her seat and handed one to him. It was enough to get them back to camp but nothing more.
Jacen just sat there for a few moments. His hands still shook from the adrenaline that had yet to ebb its way out of his system. He figured it wouldn't for some time. So much had been risked, and the reward didn't seem to measure up to what had transpired. It mattered, but would it give them an edge? He doubted it. If anything, it may've made their lives worse. He laughed inwardly. As if their lives could get any worse than it already was. Silver lining. There was one somewhere, although Jacen had a difficult time chiseling away thick crust of doubt to see it. He eventually started the engine, realizing he'd been idle for longer than he expected. The engine rumbled and the tires began to roll, clogged with the dirt between the treads.
The ride back to camp was a quiet one. There was plenty to discuss, but the two of them kept their thoughts to themselves. Jacen had more frustration than anything, aimed pointedly at the individual in the passenger side. She was reckless today, overwhelmingly so. Confidence wasn't a trait they lacked as fighters, but at what cost does that confidence spill over into carelessness? He wouldn't bring it to her attention, not now. They were too tired, too chewed up. Volatile was the best word to encapsulate it. He kept his foot firmly on the gas, pushing through the mostly flat, empty place that felt oddly claustrophobic. Just hundreds of miles of browns and oranges and whites. He wouldn't know his reaction if he ever set his eyes on a blue sky again, or a full view of the sun.
The sweeping dunes and lowland hills eventually gave way to flatter land. Travelling northwest for several hours brought them back to familiarity. Frozen, ill-maintained antenna dishes with collapsed receivers dotted the outside of their path. A downed Pelican, damaged beyond repair, lay nose-first in the ground with blackened rust on its exterior. It was a fitting symbol.
A distant fence line enlarged as they approached, encircling three, interconnected dome structures of frozen steel and iron and concrete. The central building came into view first, just two stories high with a sweeping crest of metal over its entry way. It was only when they drove up to the main gate that they saw the remaining two buildings—one-story trapezoids that extended less than fifty yards from the center structure.
There was no movement outside, but that was no surprise. No one was outside unless it was mandatory. A pair of lookouts stood atop a makeshift watchtower that was nothing but an empty cargo trailer with handholds cut into the metal. They looked down at the decelerating Hog through the sights of their rifles and made confirmation. One of them climbed down from the trailer, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and jogged over to the gate. He picked up the fist-sized lock dangling from a thick chain rope that kept the gate closed, slipping a transparent card with a barcode into the slit on the underside of the lock. The lock popped open with a muted vibration. With a screech, the gate retracted by the sentry's hands and the Hog drove through before it was locked back.
Jacen followed the cracked and broken asphalt that snaked through the camp, branching out to the left and to the right. He veered right toward the east building, looping around the front before riding down its body until turning into an open garage. The door rolled down behind them, sealed. He parked the Hog between a pair of UNSC Warthog variants and cut the engine. The two of them sat quietly for a few seconds, hearing the hissing of the Titan atmosphere being absorbed and replaced with oxygen and nitrogen.
Jacen released the seals on the underside of his helmet and removed it. He squinted his eyes in the artificial light, feeling an irritation atop his right eye. A look in the rearview mirror showed an acute laceration that began to bleed lightly to the touch. He rubbed the back of his aching neck, leaning back in his seat to stare at the ceiling lined with dead and dying lights. The strength to move his legs just wasn't there. He just wanted to sit, to rest, to bask in the silence.
Naomi was gingerly removing her gloves, one finger at a time before easing her helmet off. She took in a few wet sniffs, smelling the cold that stung her sinuses. Her joints complained when she moved, but her focus remained locked on the next step. You couldn't live one day at a time, hoping everything would pan out on its own. No, that wasn't the way she nor Jacen saw things. No one did. It wasn't a luxury. Fighting and surviving in the all-but-gone outer colonies taught you that. She wondered how many of the inner colonies were left. Had the Covenant found Earth? She put it out of her mind.
"Hey." Naomi knocked her knuckles on the windshield.
Jacen turned to face her, unenthused.
She stared back into his cold bluish-grey eyes, suddenly trying to deduce whether he was simply exhausted or royally pissed. It was a tossup, or probably both. She'd know sooner or later. "You know he's waiting for us." She collected the pack of stolen alien weaponry and threw it across her back, moving strains of her sweat-drenched obsidian hair from her olive skinned face. "What do we tell him?"
Jacen considered her question, raking his fingers through his scruffy beard. If it was up to him, he wouldn't say anything. No news was good news, right? Wrong. The op wasn't a complete disaster but it wasn't a success, either. They'd started a conflict with an enemy that had shown in the past how they'd react; and billions had died because of that reaction. If the kak hadn't already hit the fan, it was about to.
Jacen got out of the Hog and retrieved his rifle along with his helmet. He looked across the way at Naomi who hadn't averted her brown eyes from him since she asked the question. "We tell him the truth."