XVIII

Author's Note: Been gone for a while, which is a large understatement. New challenges and new adventures in life, but it's also given me time to ponder over the creative direction of this story that I care deeply about. One notable change is the character of Noelle Sanchez. Her name has been changed to Naomi Diaz for creative reasons. I do hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

"I'm curious. Why the secrecy?"

Damon checked the seals on his thermal suit before he answered Aaron. It was always uncomfortable at first, cold and restrictive. It wasn't until he activated the gel layer that the suit cooled against his skin and warmed to his natural body temperature that he felt a level of comfort. The material around his neck always felt the tightest, like he was being gently strangled. He pulled the helmet over his head and applied the shades over his eyes.

"Because I need to know if there's any merit to this before bringing it to Rey."

Aaron grunted as he laced up his boots. He stood up and retrieved his oxygen pack and secured it to his back, linking the air hose to the back of his helmet. The possibility of Rey being interested in anything right now was remote in his mind. "And you think this is a credible threat to us?"

"I don't know yet." Damon slipped the gloves over his hands and tightened the fasteners around his wrists. "Hence the investigation. I just find this suspicious. What type of person, whose severely injured, would avoid seeking medical attention and result to stealing? It just doesn't add up in my book."

"I'm inclined to agree, yeah." Aaron turned on the oxygen and felt it flush through his helmet. He took in a few breaths until he regulated his breathing. "But we don't have all the facts yet. What I'm concerned about is where this person came from. I mean, who here is wandering outside the fence with our gear and injuring themselves? Who has access, besides us?"

Damon had an idea, but he kept it to himself. It just wasn't logical, and it only would've churned up some bad memories that weren't easily shelved. All he could do was gather his evidence and keep working and hopefully Aaron would piece it together into a solution. That was the idea, but he felt it wouldn't be that simple. It hardly was.

The two of them finished gearing up in silence, eventually stepping outside in the silent darkness with the beams of their flashlights aimed ahead of them. Damon took point, leading Aaron to the fence line and followed along its winding path. All he had was his service weapon strapped in his thigh holster, his right hand occasionally brushing against the worn material. The curtain of nightfall was nothing short of intimidating; the moon being plunged so deep into darkness that the eyes could never adjust. Beams from the flashlights only lit a few meters ahead of them, just enough to see where their next footsteps would be. Beyond that, nothing. Damon was half-expecting an ambush, a group of pissed off Grunts from the failed raid watching and waiting to exact their revenge. He knew it was unlikely, but that didn't stop him from looking over his shoulder.

Aaron had no such thoughts. "It feels good be outside without tactical gear. No vest, no heavy junk, no rifles. If I was obese, I'd feel like I lost a hundred pounds."

Damon aimed his flashlight against the fence. They were getting closer. "Is that right?"

"Heck yeah. I can finally move. None of that junk weighing me down. I don't know how my ex-wife wore all those heavy earrings and crap."

"You were married?" Damon stopped walking, turned to face Aaron with a perplexed look behind his shades.

Aaron casually shrugged. "Um, yeah. What, is that a foreign concept to you?"

"I just never figured you for the marrying type," Damon admitted.

"How thoughtful," Aaron grunted. "I also have a 13 year old daughter… wait, she's gotta be 17 by now." Aaron allowed his hand to dip, the beam of his light expanded on the ground. He lowered his head and tilted it to the right. "Jeez, it's weird when you say it out loud. That girl is 17 and probably thinks I'm dead. Probably thinks I forgot about her."

Damon started back walking, tracing his bootprints left the ground many hours ago from his patrol. "I hope not. What's the longest you've gone without contacting her?"

"Three months," Aaron recalled. "A few years back when all that craziness was going down in the outer colonies. I thought that girl was gonna snap my spine when she saw me again, hugging me that tight."

"When was the last time you saw her?" Damon instantly winced after he asked the question. It felt insensitive. The man hadn't probably seen his daughter in years, even prior to being dumped on Titan. The thought of never seeing her again was probably eating him alive.

"June of 2551." Aaron answered quickly, the date hardwired so deep in his mind that it was impossible to forget. "I surprised her at school, yanked her out and we ditched. Her mom would've raised hell. Anyway, my unit was being transferred off-world, out in the outer colonies to police the growing threats between the colonists. I didn't know how long I'd be gone, but I figured it would be a while. Didn't think it'd be four years, or that I'd still be alive."

Damon didn't know what to say, for fear he'd end up saying the wrong thing. He wouldn't say that there was a possibility he'd see his daughter again; none of them knew if he'd ever see home again. At this point, you lived hour to hour. Mapping out your life with years in view was optimism of times' past. Damon chose to say nothing and kept moving. He wasn't about unearth more internal turmoil that was probably building up inside; or maybe he just didn't want to know what he himself was holding back.

They came up to the opening in the fence, pairing their lights against the cut wire that was curled open. The scene was unchanged, undisturbed. To Damon's credit, the blood was where he had said it was. Aaron gave him a sideways glance behind his shades and nodded. The blood stain on the soil wasn't considerable in size, maybe just a few centimeters in diameter. Aaron approached it carefully, taking a knee and shining his light over it. There were droplets around the main stain, like water dripping from a wet towel as one carried it from one place to another. He turned his attention to the fence, inched closer. Dried residue of blood was evident on the edges of the metal, utterly frozen but undeniable; and of course, the bootprints that Damon described led away from the stain into the darkness toward the camp.

Aaron stood up with a sigh. "Hmm."

Damon held his hands out in expectation. "Okay, what does 'hmm' mean?"

"Well, you were right. Someone was here."

"Duh," Damon retorted. "You thought I was lyin'?"

Aaron mulled it over in his head. "No. Exaggerating, maybe."

"That's reassuring," Damon mumbled. "What now? Do we get a sample of it?"

Aaron snapped around to face Damon. "And do what with it? We can't test it against anything without the proper equipment. Not to mention its frozen and contaminated. I'm not a forensic investigator. Maybe something is here or maybe it's not. I don't know."

Damon rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I'm just asking."

Aaron stood up and eased next to the opening in the fence. He grabbed one side of the tear and began to pull. "Hey, gimmie a hand with this."

"What are you doing?"

Aaron released the fence, the cold metal rattling and creaking. "It's obvious there's evidence someone cut through the fence, but I need to know where they came from. Was this person injured here or elsewhere? Is there more evidence we can find? Can we ascertain what direction the suspect came from? These are questions we need to answer, Damon. "So, if you don't mind..." Aaron bent down and grabbed the fence again.

Damon grunted and walked over. He slipped his fingers between the links and, counting down from three, the two of them pulled the hard cold metal back until the opening was large enough for them to fit through one at a time. Once Aaron caught his breath, he crouched low and crawled through the opening on onto the other side. Damon went to follow, albeit hesitatingly. Being outside of the camp's fence line felt risky and dangerous. While he didn't expect a kamikaze Grunt to come running through the darkness screaming to blow them all to hell, it was rare anyone ventured outside of the wire unless it was for a raid or an emergency. Besides those two, there was no reason to leave. Where was there to go? Whatever. He told himself to shut-up and trailed behind Aaron.

The two of them walked a few minutes' distance from the camp, tracking the bootprints back across the empty plains. For an environment that provided little to no wind, the prints remained intact with little disturbance. It was only when the prints led them around behind a modest dune of sand that measured only two feet high did Aaron finally stop.

"There isn't a drop of blood back this way."

Damon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I noticed that. That means the injury originated at the fence. Cut themselves trying to get through."

"Yep. There's more, too. Check this out." Aaron turned around headed back into the direction of the camp. He slowed his pace alongside the foreign bootprints and highlighted them with his flashlight. "Look at the way the feet are positioned. You see how the prints are further apart, more springy in nature?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, good. Now, look at this." Aaron picked up his pace until he and Damon reached the halfway point between where the dune was and the camp. He crouched low and pointed at the ground. "You see how the soil is all churned up. It's like someone stopped here, and then a little further, the prints become more uniform and closer together." Aaron stood up with a wet sniff and cleared his throat. He pointed over his shoulder. "I don't know how far those tracks continue, but our person of interest was running until he or she got to this point. After that, they walked the rest of the way very carefully."

"And you can gather all of that from their footprints?"

"Yes, I can. It's really simple stuff, actually." Aaron vented an inaudible curse under his breath. "Okay, once we're back inside, we need to start canvassing. All indicators point that there's someone in there that doesn't belong. Who that is I have no idea, but we need to find 'em. Threat or not, we need to find out why this person is being so secretive."

Damon's eyebrows shot up. He was expecting more questions, more evidence. Maybe that's all Aaron needed. He wouldn't argue with the man's expertise. "Where do we start?"

"It can't be obvious," Aaron directed. "We don't know how long this person has been here, and that's precisely the problem. They've done an incredible job at remaining undetected, either hiding in plain sight or somewhere in the camp that's not populated. So… we need be careful. I don't want to tip them off. Talk to someone you trust. Not a busybody and definitely not a gossiper. That rules out Kipp. But we need to keep our eyes sharp and alert to anyone suspicious or that seems out of place."

"I know someone," Damon said. "The confidential type."

"Good. Start with them and get back with me. I'll let you know if I find out anything on my end."

Damon returned to the living blocks during the generated day hours, twelve hours where the camp's artificial lights remained on via a timer. It was the only way to keep the people on regulated sleep cycles, but with the moon's night cycle ending in less than 48 hours, there wasn't much time until the moon faced the sun for the next 15 days. He felt the urgency was needed. Whoever the suspect was, it was much easier to move around during the moon's night cycle than it was the day. There weren't many places to hide once the sun came up. It was a hunch, but he hoped it was a good one.

There wasn't much activity in the blocks now, despite it being the simulated afternoon hours. The few that were out simply milled about, mostly parents watching their kids play or organizing their individual living spaces. He imagined having kids in these circumstances must've been especially tough, to keep them occupied and out of trouble. It was hard enough on the adults. But now Damon had a renewed focus, no longer viewing the refugees with blind protection. He examined them, giving each one a discreet once-over as he passed them by. Were they hiding an injury? Did they appear nervous or preferred to remain out of sight? Any fresh bandages? A different gait in their walk from pain? Purposely avoiding him? These were the questions he had to ponder about now. Whether he'd get the answer to those questions would hopefully be answered soon.

He came to the old vehicle maintenance office, the door tightly shut as it always was. With a deep inhale and exhale, he delivered three firm knocks and waited. A full minute elapsed before he heard any activity inside. Footfalls slowly approached before the door unlocked and creaked open. Naomi stood on the otherside, wearing a facial expression that Damon could only register as a melting pot of confusion, irritation, and mild surprise. If she was holding a gun behind the door, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Naomi peeked her head out, glancing around Damon as if someone was standing behind him. She opened the door wider, face unchanged. "Um… are you lost, buddy? Jacen isn't here; he's still in recovery."

"I'm not looking for him. I'm looking for you."

Naomi pointed to herself. "For me?"

"You mind if we talk inside?"

Naomi seemed to debate the question, biting the corner of her mouth. In the four years they'd been dumped on Titan, Damon hadn't once ventured near her block. She wasn't even sure he knew where she stayed before now. Whatever summoned him here had better been important. She eased back, gesturing inside.

Damon went inside, admiring the interesting choices in her décor as she shut the door.

Naomi walked around in front of him, cutting his next few steps short. "I'd give you the grand tour, but I don't think you'll be here that long. What can I help you with, Damon?"

Damon lightly chuckled at the venom in her tone. This may've been harder than he previously thought. He hoped Aaron had more luck on his end. "Look, what I'm going to tell you is strictly confidential. Outside of me and Aaron, you'll be the third to know."

"You're pregnant and you're having Aaron's baby," Naomi smiled, holding up her thumbs. "Congratulations. Let me know if it's a boy or a girl."

"Oh, you got jokes? Well, sorry to disappoint. Aaron is impotent. Give us one of your eggs and we'll try again."

Naomi crossed her arms without a smile. "I had an emergency hysterectomy when I was fourteen, so thanks."

"Oh, uh… well," Damon stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm joking," Naomi said. "Calm down. What's this confidential information?"

Damon quit beating around the bush. He didn't know why he was so nervous, but he imagined it would be validated soon. "We think there's an intruder in the camp and I came to you for help. During one of my patrols, I saw that a section of our fence had been cut and there was human blood on the ground with bootprints leading into the camp."

Naomi dropped her facade. She didn't have a clue what she expected Damon to tell her, but what he said certainly wasn't in the realm of her imagination. An intruder in the camp? Impossible. Save for the Grunts dying in their methane heaven, they didn't have any active threats. She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her worn out jeans and began pacing. "When was this?"

"Before the raid," Damon confirmed. "I didn't have time to fully look into it before we left, but I was able to confirm a theory I had when we got back. I visited Dr. Mathison and he had supplies stolen that match what you'd use to treat a serious wound. I brought Aaron in and we ascertained that the intruder cut themselves on the fence getting inside.

Naomi sat down to digest the information, her brown eyes racing from side to side. "And it's not one of Mathison's patients?"

Damon shook his head. "No one was admitted with serious injuries, except us when we came back; but these supplies were taken before we left for the raid. Aaron and I also followed the tracks beyond the camp. The point is, we have someone in the camp that doesn't belong, whose stolen medical gear, and who has been under our nose this entire time without us knowing. I don't know if their a threat or not, but I don't want to wait and find out."

Naomi looked up at Damon with shrugged shoulders. "And what makes you think I can help you?"

Damon swallowed hard. Here we go. There was no point of walking on eggshells. "Because I know that, when it comes to tracking people down, you're one of the best."

Naomi gave him an uncertain glare, her head tilted to the right. She leaned back from her slumped over posture until her back was rod straight. "How do you figure that?"

Damon lowered his eyes to the grey linoleum floor and slid his hands into his pockets. "Because the UNSC keeps track of all insurrectionists and known affiliates that make a name for themselves. Our dossiers list you as La Cazadora, or the Huntress. According to our records, and rumor, there hasn't been a person you've failed to track down. Now granted, you're not very high on our Red Notice List, but you're there. We have documented evidence that you've been employed by many insurgent leaders and lieutenants, even some petty rebel groups…"

Naomi stood up, holding her palm out. "I think we're done here." She walked over to the door, opened it, and gestured her head through. "You can leave. Now."

"That wasn't an insult or an indictment, simply facts," Damon said, although he doubted it would be enough to smooth things over. The look in Naomi's eyes was more than enough to indicate that he'd struck every nerve in her body. "Look, Diaz, I'm not your enemy..."

"The four letters on your chest say differently." Naomi stiffened, the ropes of muscles in her forearm prevalent from her tightly balled fist. "Leave. I won't ask again."

Damon stood his ground. "I came here because I know you can help us, otherwise I wouldn't have walked in the direction of this office. I'm trusting you with this information. We haven't even told Rey about this. Now, regardless of who you are, I know you have an expertise in this. Give us a hand, because there is no one else better. We need to find this person."

Naomi said something in Spanish that Damon could only imagine wasn't complementary. She marked him with her eyes with an intense glare in a moment of silence. Her fist loosened. "I'll give you my answer in a few hours; but for right now, you can leave."

Damon didn't argue. He'd said what he came to say and walked out. The door slammed behind him, so hard that he felt the wind slap against his arms. Having Aaron on his side was a step in the right direction, but having Diaz would almost guarantee success. He hoped. Nevertheless, there was something inside of him that feared the past would come back to haunt them all.