—21—

There had to be a punchline somewhere, and Aaron was willing to wait for it. If he wasn't mistaken, he and Damon had a very in depth conversation on his thoughts. Granted, he knew how left field his theory was, but all the evidence pointed to a plausible explanation. And yet, as if to taunt him, there was Diaz leaning against the wall of the conference room with her arms folded and steely brown eyes aimed at the floor. Damon stood at the head of the table, hands grasping around the backrest of one of the chairs. The audacity was ballsy, Aaron had to admit.

He casually pointed toward Naomi with his thumb. "If you don't mind me asking: what is she doing here?"

Naomi looked up, sighted Aaron. Her jowls tensed.

Damon held his hand up in defense. "I asked her to come. She was my…," he mentally rummaged for the sight word, "… source."

Aaron raised his brows, glanced over at Naomi and then back to Damon. He laughed with scorn. The joke seemed to be an extended one. He raked his hands through his graying brown hair in silence. The unchanging expression on Damon and Diaz's faces was all the confirmation he needed. He let his hand fall and sighed. "She knows?"

"Yeah, I do." Naomi pushed off the wall. "I'm not invisible over here."

Aaron glared over at her. "And what exactly do you know, since I wasn't privy to your unsolicited invitation?"

Damon shook his head with rolling eyes. This was going to be a long morning.

"Vasher briefed me. You're looking for someone you suspect's a threat. I'm here to help you find them."

Aaron folded his arms. "Oh, really? I suspect you'd be quite talented with this." He met Damon's eyes. "Swell choice, buddy. Mind if we have a word in private?"

"I'm right here, Aaron," Naomi asserted. "Whatever you need to say, you can say here. I know you're not a fan of me, and trust me, the feeling is highly mutual. So, what's on you mind, puta?"

"She's here to help," Damon cautioned Aaron.

Aaron moved one of the chairs aside and marched toward her. Damon motioned in front of him. "I think whoever's lurking around here isn't a stranger. In fact, they may even have some striking similarities to those already among us. Maybe one that got away that we didn't put down."

Naomi walked a wide angle around the two of them, her predatory stare unyielding to the cryptic orbit of Aaron's words. Aimed at her, she knew, but the words flowed in an indirect circumference of something more that he wasn't saying. To the stranger among them, what possible similarity could've he been referring to? 'Maybe one that got away…' There couldn't be a connection. No, it was a reach—an extensive, implausible reach. '… that we didn't put down.' Naomi ceased her steps. The rage came, bubbling underneath the surface—molten, untamed, world-ending. His world.

"In what universe do you think that's even an option?" Her words were calm, teetering on eruption building behind her sharp tone.

"There's only one universe, so my option is quite clear," confirmed Aaron. "The evidence is plain to me. My only question is are they receiving help to stay hidden for this long? Maybe someone who can empathize with their cause, their struggle almost."

Damon closed his eyes with a sigh and massaged his forehead.

"You're about to cross a line you can't step back from," Naomi primed.

Aaron shrugged with an uninterested frown. "You drew the line. I just didn't care where you put it."

The number of scenarios galloping through Naomi's mind was enough to surprise herself from the level of creative violence that surfaced. It was the audacity; the nerve; the unmitigated gall. She envisioned herself clearing the distance between within milliseconds, taking his incredulous head and bashing against the corner of the table. It would be simple to get behind him, dislocating his shoulder from the back before subsequently slamming the backrest of the chair at the base of his skull. If he survived, he'd be paralyzed without question. But at what cost would retaliation solve, only to prove his point further.

Naomi swallowed the enormous pill of rage down her throat, switching her glare to Damon at boiling point intensity. "So this was your plan, to lure into some trap of accusations and outlandish claims by your UNSC mutt? I'm outta here. You approach me again and I'll flatten your trachea with my boot."

"Diaz, wait, wait!" Damon rushed in front of the door, blocking her escape. He held his hands out. "It's not what you think. I didn't bring you here to accuse you of anything. I just needed your help to find this person."

"Vasher, move the hell outta my way!"

"Look, you have every right to be pissed, but we're not on the same page about this. I don't think you have anything to do with this." The corporal attempted to reach out to touch her shoulder, thought better of it. "I know you have a nose for this sort of thing, and I wouldn't ask you to be here if I thought you were a suspect or something."

"Maybe you're trying to keep your enemies closer."

Damon considered her retort. Reassuring words wouldn't work now, neither would an apology. It was beyond that. Reasoning was his only card left the play. At any moment, he suspected she would force him away from the door. Despite her size, he'd seen her in action—the violence, the aggression, the precise nature of her style. She could level a man twice her size. Damon wasn't going to be one of those men. He eased aside from before the door.

"You can leave; just know that we're just trying to cover our basis. We've got a possible threat lurking in our camp. I'd like to find out who it is before something bad happens. I can't speak for Aaron, but I know that I need your help with this. Please."

Naomi loosened her jaw, easing the tension against her gritting teeth. Why would she even consider giving him another chance? Between Aaron's accusations and Vasher's pathetic attempts to calm the situation only added fuel to the inferno. They were cut from the same cloth, the same uniform, the same idealistic prejudice pumped into their heads the day they enlisted.

I didn't start the fight with you. I'm not a terrorist; I'm not a rebel—I only wanted to survive. But don't lump me in with those pendejos.

The once cold metal from her sidearm had grown warm in the small of her back. She had even forgotten the gun was there until now; and now the urge to point it in someone's face was growing more and more intense. Their logic didn't make sense, not to her. It was narrow minded, impulsive. She needed to get out of the room, to have space and decompress before she lashed out.

"Step out of the way, Damon. Final warning."

The corporal didn't press it. He didn't Diaz's limits and he wasn't about to test it now. He gave the former MP a thanks-for-ruining-this glare and stepped aside from the door. Aaron rolled his eyes with crossed arms and watched Diaz stomp towards the door. He sighed with angst.

"I was expecting more a fight from you. Didn't think retreating was your style."

Naomi dug her fingers into the handle depression on the door, the tips white from the pressure. She turned, the profile of her face set to Aaron. "My style would put you in the ground."

"Then prove me wrong," replied Aaron, "because I hope to your God that I am."

Naomi spun on her feet and stormed toward Aaron until she was in his face. Damon expected a thrown punch, but it never came and Aaron never flinched from his spot.

"What you think is moronic," she blasted. "And what's more is that you believe I'd help one of them. I killed some of them. As for the rest, they're frozen corpses in that wasteland out there."

"No bodies, no evidence," shrugged Aaron.

"Then do the math. Factor the time. That's all the evidence you need."

"That's what I said," added Damon.

Aaron held a middle finger up in his direction, maintained eye contact with Diaz.

"If I was harboring one of them, why would I help you find them?" Naomi put to Aaron. "It defeats the entire purpose of trying to hide someone."

"To push suspicion away from yourself, to point us in the wrong direction. We'll be chasing our tails. But if you're telling the truth and you're not responsible, then who's to say it isn't someone else? What about Pearce? You're thick as thieves, but I doubt you know his whereabouts 24/7. Maybe he's involved and you don't know it."

Naomi shook her head with a humorless laugh. "You're unbelievable. It's baseless. Everything you said has no merit. You don't know Jacen and you don't know me."

Aaron stood from sitting on the table, his 6 foot frame towering over her. "I know enough. I know that you and Pearce pick your battles. I admire that. I'm the same. If I see a fight I'm not going to win, I don't pick it. If anything, I join the winning team. That's what you did, both of you."

It happened before Naomi was aware it. Aaron was doubled over on the table, cupping the right side of his jaw with a guttural moan. Her fist hung low, knuckles rose red and primed for another blow. Damon pulled her back before she gave it more thought, stepping between the two as Aaron righted himself with a trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, let's keep it civil here!" Damon held them at arm's length. He didn't know if he could repel both of them if they decided to have it out. It would be long overdue, a pot finally boiling over. Diaz he could probably restrain up to a point, but Aaron would bulldoze right through him.

Naomi slapped Damon's hand down, pointing across him to Aaron. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

Aaron grunted as he wiped the blood from his mouth, rubbing it away between his thumb and index fingers. "That's your free shot. The next one will cost you more."

"I'm banking on it."

"No one is banking on anything." Damon kept his hands up, a finger pointed at Aaron. Back off. "Are we seriously doing his now, with so much at stake? You can't bury your beef until we're done with this?"

"You brought her into this." Aaron jabbed a finger across the way. "And you expect me to be cool with it? Nah, buddy, you got your wires all the way crossed."

Damon put his arms down. Had this what they'd become? Nearly three decades of fighting the Covenant and they remained divided by petty borders drawn in the windswept dirt. In the next few years would any of that matter? Hell, would humanity even exist outside of small groups of survivors like them, hiding across the galaxy as the Covenant hunted them down? That wouldn't be Damon's reality, hiding out in some hole until the Grim Reaper came knocking.

"You don't have to like each other. I personally don't care. What I do care about is whether or not there's a threat hiding in our camp. I don't like it, but I am responsible for what happens to you." Damon felt like a fool for saying it. It meant holding on to a code that he didn't even fully believe in anymore. The UNSC had either long forgotten them or no longer existed. But some part of him—no matter how small—had to maintain the idea at least. Otherwise, what separated him from the other refugees?

"We have to know what we're dealing with," he continued. "Let's sort this out and then you can go back to hating each other. Is that something you can live with?" He looked at both of them, their faces giving no tell whether his words penetrated. It was back to poker faces.

Diaz chewed her lower lip with teeth bared, releasing an elongated sigh. She swept her hair behind her ears with both her hands as she gazed intensely at the floor as if something of interest was there. Damon could tell she was working it out, whether to agree or simply walk away. She had every right. Aaron's hypothesis, while grossly farfetched, had enough merit to stir up volcanic contentions. And he remained where he was, standing just beyond the table, still working his bruised jaw from side to side. It was a good punch, quick but restrained; enough force to stun and send a message that more was available. Damon hoped to God that Aaron didn't want more.

"Okay," Aaron said at last. "I'm willing to make this work." He squared his shoulders, seemingly look past Damon and straight at Naomi. "But I meant what I said and I'm standing by it. I hope I'm wrong, about everything… including you."

Naomi massaged the knuckles on her right hand, the skin sensitive but intact. It wasn't an apology, only a pending indictment. She shrugged casually without looking up, casting her gaze anywhere except on Aaron. "Whether this is some junkie tweaker or an actual threat, I'm game to find out. Where do we start?"

A waterfall of relief washed over Damon. There was no time to waste. The peace agreement wasn't solid, and one inconsiderate comment or accusation could derail the whole thing. Damon went over to the table and waved them over. He reached into his pocket and took out a disc-shaped device that resembled a black coaster, setting it in the table's center. Clicking a small switch on the side, six cerulean lights winked on around the device's edges before suddenly expanding an interactive TACMAP that stretched half the length of the table.

"All right," Damon rubbed his hands together. "I was able to download the entire camp's layout. With this, we can start by isolating any possible places where our friend may be hiding."

Aaron leaned forward at the head of the table, hands resting on the surface. He analyzed the slowly rotating holo-image. "Does DEV know you have this?"

Damon nodded. "He's the one that helped me access it. Don't worry, he doesn't know what it's for."

"I certainly hope not," Aaron commented. "If he knows details, then he might alert Rey. We don't need those type of problems."

"Trust me, I know." Damon reached out to the image and contracted his hands, shrinking the image to a smaller size. He flipped the layout horizontally and began pointing to each area. "Okay, we know the camp is divided into three separate structures—A building, B building, C building. Let's start by eliminating where X isn't."

"X?" Naomi raised a brow.

"It's what I'm calling our intruder," Damon clarified. He went back to the map. "We can eliminate building C for obvious reasons, so that leaves A and B buildings. This is where we concentrate our search. I understand there are thousands of places to hide in there, but we need to make that number as small as possible, check those areas, and see what we come up with."

"And we're absolutely sure building C is no longer viable?" Aaron reasoned. "It'd be perfect: not a single soul would be in there. Complete privacy."

"DEV sealed the building after everything that happened. He vented the atmosphere, cut the power, and locked it down from the rest of the camp. No one can survive in there, not without gear."

"We need to start from the beginning," Naomi suggested.

"And why is that?" Aaron kept his tone mild. "We've put in a lot of investigative work up to this point. Starting from scratch kinds defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

Damon winced, but it didn't seem to bother Diaz. Her eyes met Aaron's for a split second before refocusing on the map. "In my experience, the beginning is just as important as the end. It's there we can learn about who our mark is, what their habits are, and how we can use their routine—or lack thereof—against them. All of this eventually culminating to our goal: finding X."

Aaron and Damon went silent for a moment. The word experience wouldn't have meant much coming from anyone, but with Diaz's background, it leveled upon the two men of the gravity of her alleged skill. How many people had she tracked down before being stranded here? How many could say that they'd been found by her and survived? La Cazadora was a recurring name among the outer colonies, especially among the innies and other outliers. She was in her element now, something Damon was still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a complete disaster.

"Vasher, let's go back to where you found the blood and the prints. How often were your patrols?"

"A patrol is conducted every 72 hours."

"Are you the only one?"

"No, I share the patrol with two others. We rotate in shifts. Rollins had the shift before me, but he never came to me and reported anything. All clear, from his viewpoint."

Naomi massaged her chin. "Rollins. Is he UNSC?"

Damon shook his head. "No, he's one of the refugees that volunteered for training. He's a good guy."

"But not a soldier. He probably wouldn't know what looked suspicious unless it jumped in his face, no offense. He's a civvie. If that's the case, then that's potentially over three days unaccounted for until it was your shift. We start there. X could've entered the camp within that window, and it's been three weeks since then. That's more than enough time to get comfortable, to establish a routine." Naomi nodded to herself with a smirk. "This is good. Next, we start with point of injury—"

"This is ridiculous," Aaron spat. "We're going in circles. We already know about the injury, the stolen meds, and beyond that. Retracing our steps is a waste of time. We need to start canvassing. Let's just deduce the most plausible area of the camp where X could be laying low and start looking."

"We don't need a plausible area, we need an exact position." Naomi pushed back from the table. "Have you sat back and thought about the size of this place? In terms of scale, yeah, it's fairly small; but it's intricate, layered. The nooks and crannies someone could hide in would take more time than we have the manpower for. I get that you want to isolate and search. I want to do the same, but if we spend too much time in the wrong place, then we're back to square one. Trust me on this, which I know is a stretch for you."

"Yeah, a big one," Aaron scoffed.

Damon lightly kicked one of the legs to the table. The TACMAP winked off in the vibration and kicked back on. "Cut the crap! I asked her to help us out with this, man. If doubling back helps us get this guy, then we'll do it." He faced Naomi. "But I need to know where you're going with this. Time isn't exactly on our side. Once the day cycle starts, our target may move on and find somewhere else to hide, somewhere even you may not be able to sniff out."

Naomi grunted. She doubted that, but Vasher made a good point. The night cycle gave X more freedom to traverse the camp that daylight would limit. DEV, under Captain Anderton's direction, lowered the power output even more during the night. Some areas of the camp were so dim that you could barely see a few feet in front of you.

"Fine," said Naomi. "Point of injury is important because I doubt our guest would be highly mobile. I'm guessing without proper treatment, X would bleed out in an hour or two. That makes the clinic the first and most important target."

Damon twisted his mouth. "Yeah, but that was during the day cycle. It's available at all times, so someone is always on duty. Even now. It's still impressive that X was able to steal supplies without being caught. Dr. Mathison is the only one who has access to all the serious meds. Gauze and stitches are easy to get."

"Maybe our intruder had help," Aaron mentioned in a low voice.

Naomi cut her eyes over at him. Not this again.

Aaron held his hands up like a surrender. "Look, before you start throwing punches, lemme explain. To think Mathison is the only person that has complete access is ludicrous. He's a busy man, and I doubt he has time to stop and unlock the med cage each and every time someone needs something. Think about it. We never questioned all of the staff, just a few. We don't if our target is prone to violence, but since Mathison wasn't aware of the supplies going missing, then maybe someone didn't have a choice in helping."

"Yeah, but someone would've said something by now, right?" shrugged Damon.

Aaron laughed. "You gotta drop this boyscout attitude. A good threat can go a long way, trust me. Ain't that right, Diaz?"

Naomi couldn't help but agree. She's dished out a multitude of threats over the years, and the power behind them could make a person clay in your hands.

Damon pursed his lips with folded arms. "What's your point, man?"

"When was the last time you saw Donna?"