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72 HOURS FROM TITAN NIGHT CYCLE
The core group reconvened 12 hours later, a few of them together in the command room. They were expected to meet within the next 30 minutes to prepare the mission. Rey figured it would be good for them to use the time to digest what was ahead of them. With a few exceptions, the UNSC Army captain could admit that he didn't know most of them well. They were just people he had sworn to protect and keep alive. So to ask them to put their lives on the line for pure survival and the people around them somewhat irked him. He didn't know if they had family or friends waiting for them elsewhere, or whether or not anyone was still alive for them to get back to. All he had was an ex-wife and an estranged daughter; but it was still someone. God, he prayed he was making the right decision.
DEV had fired up the TACMAP, laying out everything for the group to review. The Grunt compound was in the center of it all, its entrances and exits all marked. Astrid circled the table, having almost zen-level concentration on every facet of the compound. She'd spent her 12 hours reviewing everything there was to know about the structure—blueprints, engineering, maintenance, high traffic zones and zones less traveled. If they had the power to spare, it would've been nice to access the compound's camera systems… if they were still operational. A peek inside would've worked wonders. It seemed even the simplest surveillance methods weren't available to them. She coordinated small operations, mostly intelligence gathering against the insurgents; this was Rey's forte, not hers. She signed and rested her head on the edge of the table.
Damon came over and touched her shoulder. "You all right?"
"Just trying to figure out what I got myself into," she replied, her voice muffled. Astrid pulled her head up, her nose catching the nearby aroma. "Is that coffee?"
"More of a substitute, really. Ran out of the real stuff a few years ago," Damon shrugged nonchalantly. He handed her one of the two cups in his hands. "Here. Thought you could use it."
"Danke." Astrid took the cup, holding in her palms to warm her hands.
"So..." Damon patrolled around the TACMAP, analyzing the numerous notations Astrid had made across the blueprints. It was crude, at best: scribblings, arrows, German expletives that made his brows rise. "How's it lookin'?"
She grunted. "D'you want an open or closed casket?"
"I always preferred a closed casket," Damon masked. "Adds mystery."
"I'm not seeing how you're so calm about this," presumed Astrid.
Damon wasn't flattered; he was just ready to get this over with. Whether he would be alive or not depended on how coordinated they were. He trusted Astrid, to an extent. Her background was sufficient enough to make her qualified, but he couldn't help thinking that he would've preferred someone more battle-tested, someone who had their boots on the ground when the bullets were flying. But she was all they had; everyone else was dead.
"To tell you the truth," he started off, "I'm friggin' terrified; but we're trained not to show fear, 'cause it'll get you killed faster than anything else. Well, that and being stupid. But I wanna live just like everyone else. I don't know if this alien will help us get off this moon, but if there's a chance, then you bet I'll give it everything I got."
Astrid took comfort in his words. She didn't know much about the young corporal, but from what she could see, he was the right choice for Rey's number two. To be one of the few remaining soldiers must've been sobering, a forceful kick into the fray that she imagined he wasn't prepared for. There were lieutenants and sergeants before him, valiant men that Rey had at his disposal when they landed. But now he was only one left standing.
Rey's cot squeaked, gaining the attention of Damon and Astrid. Instead of studious prep work, Rey opting for a recharge. Astrid wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep for, but it was substantial. He staggered out from behind the curtain that closed off his sleeping quarters, an unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His oily black hair was ruffled, growing just below his ears. He desperately needed a cut.
Yawning, he took a quick glance at the clock on the wall and grumbled. Just a few minutes until they went over the mission's strategy. Whatever. He'd find the energy. He made his way over to Damon and Astrid, lightly slapping the sides of his face with both hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep that long."
"No such thing," Damon brushed off. If there was anyone who needed the sleep, it was Rey. You could only survive off a few hours of sleep before your body crashed and forced you to rest. "The others should be on their way."
Rey nodded. "Good. DEV, where are you?"
The A.I. scooted through the air, landing on the table. "I'm here, sir."
Rey overlooked the work Astrid had completed so far, nodding as he went through it. In an odd way, he felt the most difficult part of the coming raid was over. He never thought he'd be able to convince people that this was their only shot for survival. The actual combat portion of the raid was fine by him: crisscrossing bullets and plasma, coordinating troops, fighting for your objective—that's what Rey knew best. Reaching people, however, was another thing altogether. Some people were just better than others when it came to motivation, to reach their hearts. He hoped he'd done enough to fuel them through this, to fuel himself through this.
Within the next few moments, the others began streaming into the room. First Aaron, Kipp and Aiden, and then Jacen and Naomi. They exchanged limited pleasantries and settled in around the room. Rey looked at them all. To say they were enthused was a gross understatement. The expression on their individual faces ranged from obvious displeasure, pessimism, and general fatigue. He got the feeling none of them had taken the time to sleep.
"This is where we make magic, people," Rey announced. "The plan we formulate here will either guarantee our success or help dig our graves. Let's all aim for the former. So let's get started."
"If we all gather 'round..." Damon waved them closer to the TACMAP.
The five of them made their around the table, each one gaining a vantage point.
"Okay, this is a time sensitive raid, so understand that this will be a night op." Rey glanced at the clock. "The moon's night cycle will start in less than 72 hours. By the time we're finished prepping, we'll be well into nightfall. This will allow us to get in close to the Grunt compound without being readily spotted, possibly infiltrating. We haven't done a night op in a while, but the rules haven't changed. Since we haven't been able to observe the Grunt's sleeping patterns, we don't know how they've adapted to the moon's extended nights—whether they sleep more heavily or have heighten awareness. We simply don't know. As for our entry, I'll let DEV and Astrid take it from here..."
"I do enjoy the spotlight." DEV stopped the rotational spin of the compound and highlighted the numerous ins and outs. "The Grunt compound has a total of twelve entrances and exits, but that number has been reduced to five, due to previous raids, technical issues, and blockades formed by the grunts themselves. The vehicle depot is the latest entry/exit point that is no longer available."
"Oops," Naomi said under her breath.
"But there are two points that DEV and I believe are our best options," Astrid chimed in, pointing at the map. "Here and here. One point on the east end and one around the rear of the building. For our exit strategy, the rear exit is probably best. Schematics show that this used to be the compound's loading docks. It's spacious and can accommodate multiple vehicles. The only issue is that we don't how the grunts are using this space. The docks have four bay doors, which are all sealed. Normally it's not well ventilated, often cold; but with the grunts using the engineer, they could've altered the conditions."
"So there could be a legion of them in there?" Aiden supposed. "That makes getting out a problem."
"It's possible," Astrid had to admit. "The docking bay is the largest space in the compound. If they aren't concerned about personal space, you could easily fit 200 to 250 grunts in there."
A round of hushed expletives went out of their mouths. What kind of exit strategy was that? It was understood they'd have to fight their out, but to face that number of hostile aliens spelled instantaneous failure. They'd be clawed to shreds or shot to smoldering puddles.
"We'd have to clear them out," Damon proposed. "Otherwise, we won't make it out."
"Yeah, but we don't have the ammo for that," Aaron disagreed. "And we're not sitting on explosive ordnance like we used to."
"Then let me finish," Astrid countered. "If the docks are housing the bulk of the grunts, it's safe to say they're comfortable, right? No masks, no tanks—they're enjoying their methane-rich air. Well, what if we blow the bay doors? This moon has 1.4% of methane in its atmosphere, less than one fourth of what the grunts breathe. We blow those doors and they suffocate; and coupled with the severe cold, they'll freeze to death in the process. The only thing we'd need to be concerned about is not tripping over the bodies."
Kipp lightly clapped his hands. "Dang, lady. I guess it's true: there's nothing more dangerous than a woman with a plan."
"I have the alimony papers to prove it," Aiden laughed. "But she lived on Eridanus II, so I can thank the Covenant for dealin' with that."
Rey held up his hands amongst the array of laughter with a smirk on his face. "Let's stay focused, people."
Astrid continued. "DEV and I selected the entry point because it was designed for the maintenance crew. It's a shortcut, really. It leads directly to the engineering conduits of the compound, but it spider-webs into tunnels that were once used for general maintenance purposes: electrical, water filtration, etc. If the engineer alien is mainly focused on machinery, then this is the place to start."
"This also requires us to split into teams," Rey added.
"And what happens when we actually find it?" Naomi inquired. "Do you expect it just to come with us, or are we taking this thing by force? None of us knows who this alien is going to react."
"Yeah, I've been wondering that, too," Aaron concurred. "Tell me we were bagging a human, then that'd be fine, but a floating gas bag with tentacles? Anything is harmless until you try to take it somewhere it doesn't wanna go."
"I have a plan for that," DEV made known. "I analyzed all the available data concerning the Huragok species and a solution for its capture is quite simple: we lure it to us."
DEV's statement seemed to garner their attention.
Jacen unbridled his lips. "How's that?"
"Engineers are single-minded, meaning their only motivation is the upkeep and improvement of any and all technology. Anything that's broken or malfunctioning will attract them. So… we give it something to fix."
"We have one of our vehicles, preferably one of the freighter trucks, parked at the docking bay," Astrid took over. "We plant a low yield explosive against one of the bay doors, just enough to rupture the seals. This should clear out the dock of any Grunt presence. Unless the Grunts have their own procedure to repair breaches, the Engineer should be stimulated to investigate."
"This is why we're splitting up into teams." Rey pressed his finger against the receiving docks. "We'll have one team positioned at the docks. Once that door is breached, it's a waiting game. If the Engineer arrives, that's when they blow the door's remaining seals. The team will then gently encourage the Engineer into the truck's trailer, lock it up, and drive like hell back to camp. That's where you come in, Kipp. You're in charge of the explosives."
Kipp's mouth partially opened. He often wondered just why Rey had selected him to take part. He wasn't adept as a fighter, having only basic weapons training. The best he could provide was technical support, but it suddenly dawned on him what his role was. "Uh… well, if we have the materials, I can rig something up."
"I'm sure we do," said Rey. "DEV will help you."
"And the other team?" Naomi followed up.
"Assault," Rey clarified. "The purpose is to pull as much attention away from the capture team as possible. I don't want the Engineer being caught in a firefight. If this thing is killed, this will have all been for nothing."
A multitude of grunts and groans.
Jacen spoke up. "We're not going to beat the Grunts in a straight up fight. Even with our best fighters, that's an exceedingly tall order. We'd need multiple fallback positions, 'cause we will get pushed back. Naomi and I barely made it out against a handful of them."
"That's because you suck at stealth," mumbled Aaron.
Jacen gave Aaron a sidelong glare, dismissed the remark. He turned his attention to the chart table, circling it with an inquisitive nature. Damon followed his movements, always cautious. He never knew what went on in Pearce's head until he spoke. The word stoic didn't seem appropriate, taking into account his background. Aloof or apathetic would better describe him. Naomi was another monster altogether. Damon figured he could fill a thesaurus with her traits. He hoped it was a good idea to keep them around.
"Where do these doors lead?" Jacen pointed out the secondary entrances along the compound's western points. "I noticed them during our last raid."
DEV rose up, his body shifting, reconfiguring, like he'd compressed the information and needed to process it. "They connect to the utility tunnels underneath the building."
"How many tunnels?" Jacen asked next.
DEV hesitated for a beat. "Four. Two across, two down. They merge in the center."
Jacen pulled up from the chart table. "Well, there you go. Four points of ingress and egress. If the Grunts don't know about these tunnels, why not just smuggle the Engineer out of there? Saves us from a big fight, conserves ammo, and gives us relatively safe passage back to the vehicles."
Astrid opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. It was a tactically sound strategy, but it also meant scouring the compound to find the Engineer and coerce it follow them down in the tunnels. They'd be caught long before that happened.
"I see your point," Astrid prepared to disagree, "but it doesn't seem practical. It's too many unknowns. We don't know the integrity of those tunnels, whether or not it's safe to use them. Not mention our goal is to lure the Engineer to us, not go on a scavenger hunt in the middle of a Grunt fortress."
Jacen consulted the A.I. "DEV, do any of these tunnels connect to engineering?"
"They're utility tunnels, so… duh."
Rey sighed in aggravation. "DEV..."
"Always the killer of joy, Captain." DEV lifted up the top layer of the compound and highlighted the four utility tunnels. He isolated the second tunnel that ran the length of the building, pinpointing a small section near the southern tip of where the tunnel ended. "Schematics shows that this area here is positioned directly underneath engineering, the location where you initially discovered the Huragok. A service ladder should be nearby that will bring you up into the room via a sealed hatch. It locks from the inside, so you'd be able to access it."
Damon rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. "That's great. Now what?"
Jacen figured they'd catch on, but the skepticism appeared to blind them. He didn't blame them. They already had a plan in mind, and any deviation from that may've been an overwhelming risk they weren't willing to take. But that's what they were here for, to give their input. "We get into engineering and, instead of damaging a door seal in the docks, we hit them where it hurts—the oxygenator. It's how their atmosphere is created. We damage it, at least enough to get their attention, and the Grunts send in the Engineer. We neutralize any escorts with it and bring it down in the tunnels with us, seal it up, and we're out."
No one spoke for a few moments, the gears turning in their heads. For Rey, it wasn't the best strategy he'd ever heard, but in their circumstances, it was a solid method. A snag or two would effectively deflate the whole thing, but that was with any strategy. It could work, barring a few adjustments to the personnel.
"I like it," Rey finally admitted.
Astrid gave him a what the hell look.
Rey met her eyes, holding a reassuring hand up to her. "Let's consider the dynamics: simply damaging the oxygenator won't have an instantaneous affect. If we were to shut off the oxygen within the camp, we wouldn't know it for hours. Same idea for the Grunts. For maximum success, I say we take it a step further, killing two birds with one stone—we destroy the oxygenator. Without their Engineer there to repair it, the atmosphere dies off and it solves our Grunt problem; and we ensure that by enacting Astrid's plan. However, instead of a low yield explosive, we blow that whole docking bay open. The secondary team will move in through the tunnels, blow the oxygenator, and wait for the Engineer."
Naomi raised a single finger. "Isn't that a bit much? The Engineer may not be interested in the oxygenator if all the Grunts are scrambling from the dock blast."
"A one-two punch," Rey said. "The oxygenator is the first target to go. Once the Engineer comes to investigate, then we attack the docking bay. That should stir enough confusion to smuggle the Engineer out with minimal enemy contact." Rey nodded, more to himself than the others. "This could work." He settled his eyes on the group, meeting each of their faces. "Any objections?"
Aaron adjusted his pants to fit on his waist with a grunt. "I think we all universally object, but… hell, let's go for it."
"Then let's get organized," Rey finalized.
There was a growing turmoil inside of Damon's gut. He walked through the interior of the camp, just outside of the living blocks. The group had disbanded hours ago once everything was set. The only thing that remained was getting the gear and vehicles squared. He figured they'd need sufficient ammo, enough to last the mission and then some for possible snags. That would leave them just above being critically low. He hoped this would be the last time they'd have to fire their weapons. Bullets couldn't be replaced as easy as they were before.
And then there was their vehicle situation. They had two Warthogs on the decline, one badly requiring shocks and rear brakes that were practically metal on metal. Maybe Kipp could figure something out. But that wasn't the worst of it: the freighter truck was their means of extracting the Engineer out, and it was by far the riskiest vehicle they had. The thing hadn't run in a year. There was a possibility the battery was dead or the fluids were too thick to flow properly. Lastly, it needed a solenoid purge valve. If that thing stalled on them, they were dead.
Damon kept his eyes firmly on the colorless floor ahead of him. He didn't know how many people may've passed him, but he couldn't bear to look at them. They were walking corpses if they failed. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was going to come out alive. He wished he had the confidence Rey saw in him. The shoes he'd had to fill was a constant burden on his shoulders; and it was only by the grace of God he'd maintained thus far. Rey often said he deserved an officer's rank after what he'd done so far. Maybe that was true, but it wasn't like Damon had any other choice. The others were dead. He had to step up.
Whatever. Damon put it out of his mind for the time being. He had other matters to handle. There was still the issue the perimeter walk: the broken fence, the blood. It'd had taken a backseat to the Engineer discovery, but Damon couldn't leave it alone. If there was even small change they were infiltrated by an unknown person or persons, he had to know.
He eventually made his way into the camp's clinic. Over the years, it remained the only place Damon could sleep properly. Maybe it was the clean, sterile nature of the atmosphere. It always smelled of disinfectant, rubbing alcohol, and an underline odor that Damon could never quite figure out. Dirty laundry? Cigarette smoke masked by a pitiful fragrance? One may never know.
Damon went through the glass double doors, passing a row of sparsely positioned chairs on both sides of the entry way. A few people sat patiently in them, some of their faces flushed or dried out. Muscle and joint issues were the most common, Damon came to find out. The gravity on Titan was slightly weaker than that on Earth's moon, causing mild muscle atrophy to osteoporosis and negative effects on the balance, bone density, and cardiovascular system. If they ever got back to Earth, he imagined they'd have a hard time adjusting back.
He went up the front desk where the receptionist was sitting, her head low as she scribbled on a yellowing notepad. Damon remained patient, clasping his hands on the cold ceramic counter.
"I'd appreciate if you kept your filthy hands off my desk," the receptionist suddenly said. She still hadn't looked up, but she knew Damon's smell, his mannerisms, and those hands. She set a small bottle of sanitizer on the counter and pointed to it, head yet to rise.
Damon sighed and squirted the transparent liquid into his palm before rubbing it into his skin. "You fail to disappoint, Donna. How are you this lovely autumn afternoon?"
Donna checked the condescending tone in his voice and rolled her brown eyes that made her fledgling wrinkles more prominent. She retained a measure of youth for her age. "The day is still young, for now." She stopped writing. "Did your mother know who dirty you keep your hands?"
Damon vented a nervous laugh. If he'd known walking in with an acute sinus infection one day would spark an interrogation, he would've checked in to medical to avoid an epidemic. "I thought you were my mother, Donna. Listen, is Colin here?"
"The day heisn't is the day I finally sleep in my own bed," grumbled Donna. "He's free right now, but you better make it quick."
"Thank you, Donna." Damon walked into the back, passing the one-room examination station and into the interior offices. A bit of stirring emanated from one of the two procedure rooms. Damon went around the corner to see a man crouched low, rummaging through the cabinets with hair white as snow. "Dr. Mathison."
Dr. Colin Mathison looked over his shoulder with a surprised expression that went across his olive green eyes. He stood up with a groan, fetching his white coat he left folded across the gurney. "Mr. Vasher." He glanced at his watch. "A little early. You turning in already?"
Damon shook his head as he stepped into the room. "No, I'm fine. I came to talk to you, actually."
Mathison removed his frame-less glasses and cleaned off the lenses with furrowed brows. "Oh? I have a few moments before my next patient. What's on your mind? Still having trouble sleeping?"
"No, this isn't about me," Damon waved his hand in dismissal. "I'm looking into something and I thought you'd be able to help."
Mathison nodded, nibbling on his thin lips. He went over and slid the door shut. "All right..."
"In the past day cycles, have you noticed any of your supplies being missing or unusually low?"
Mathison pinched his smooth chin, ponderous. He leaned his 5'10" frame against the counter and aimed his eyes on the floor like he was counting the linoleum tiles. It was a question he certainly wasn't expecting, nor was it something that never merited his concern. "Not that I've noticed, no. I mean, I do an inventory once a month… well, what would be a month if we weren't here. What have you found?"
Damon sunk his hands into his pockets and widened his stance with a deep inhale/exhale. "I don't know yet. It may have occurred between your checks."
Mathison wore a vexed expression. "You think someone's stealing the supplies, perhaps self-medicating?"
"It's a possibility, but I don't think that's the case." Damon could see his words were beginning to trouble Mathison. The good doctor must've found it horrifying that some of his supplies may've gone missing. Not as much as a cotton swap wasted under his care. If anyone knew how precious rationing supplies was, it was him. The day they depleted their medical stock weighed heavily on Mathison's narrow shoulders.
"Look, Dr. Mathison, a few of us are headed out again. It's another raid, a big one. We leave in the next 30 hours or so, but if you could procure a list of your current supplies and compare them to your last inventory, I'd like to see where we stand. Okay?"
Mathison nodded. "I can do that."
"Thanks." Damon turned and prepared to walk out before Mathison called after him.
"What's the captain got you raiding this time?"
Damon looked back at him, considered the question. He laughed. "If I make it back, you'll see."