—22—

Rey had reached the limit of the reclusive nature he'd allowed himself to wallow in. It wasn't befitting, especially for morale. Everyone needed to know he was still there, some sort of figurehead they could fix their eyes on. Whether they believed in him or not, he couldn't have any doubts growing in his people more than they already were. Astrid had visited him now and again, always willing to lend a word of encouragement or two. He envied her positivity, although he imagined she had her own personal demons to deal with. The raid had impacted all of them in one way or another. For Astrid, it wouldn't surprise him if she buried herself in her work to help the civilians in all their growing needs, to organize the daily affairs. If they ever returned to proper civilization, he'd sing her praises.

He stood in front of the small water-stained mirror, rinsing his freshly shaven face in the sink below. It was more out of habit than anything, a ritual of cosmetic fraud to maintain a sense of order among the civvies. If he was able to keep himself up, then maybe the rest if them could as well. He imagined it was a forgone burden that he didn't have to carry, but it was too ingrained to stop now.

When people look at you, boy, they should be able to soak up ya confidence. They need to know you're okay, even when you're falling apart on the inside.

Rey would take his father's advice; he was hardly wrong, pragmatic but unintentionally mysterious. He wouldn't know what his father would think of the man he became now. Disappointed didn't come to mind. Maybe he would be proud, or cautiously optimistic as he always was. It didn't matter now. The man had been dead so long that the memories of him felt like they belonged to someone else.

I know he wouldn't have gotten stranded on a friggin' ice moon without a laundry list of contingency plans.

He stepped out of his room and into the corridor. The lights above looked dimmer than usual. He'd ask it about it later. For now, he went past a few of the empty offices before coming to the adjoined one at the end of the corridor that parted off like one side of an octagon. The door was open, as it always was, and Astrid was sitting at her plywood desk with metal legs. She was hunched over, focused so intently on her data pad and scribbling in her notepad that he was positive she hadn't noticed him. It was the only adjoined office in the camp, doubling as her work and living quarters.

Rey knocked twice on the doorpost.

Astrid turned in the direction of the noise, faintly surprised. People visited her often, probably more than she'd like. They always had questions, concerns, and updates that Rey had kept to a minimum as of late. There was no point in bothering her unnecessarily with questions that always had the answers.

"Reymond." Her eyes looked tired. She turned in her chair, dressed in her charcoal coveralls with the sleeves rolled up. "I didn't hear you come in."

The captain leaned against the frame with his hands in his pockets. "I didn't want to interrupt. You seemed busy."

Astrid shuffled the papers together she had across the desk, all of them different sectors of the camp with written notes in the margins of the diagrams. "I was just working on a projection for Mathison."

Rey stepped inside, always cautious to step across the threshold without permission. The logistics side of her room was nothing but her desk and two 32' monitors mounted on the wall. Empty foam cups were strewn on the far right side of the desk with opened caffeine tablets beside them. It must've been a long morning. The door to her bunk was usually always shut, but it was left open today. Rey could see her bed neatly made but nothing else.

"What did he need?"

"We have a small epidemic, a bug that's going around. Stomach related. Many of the colonist have taken ill and we're trying to contain the spread. Mathison has some of his aids there now giving out antibiotics. We don't have enough for everyone, so priority goes to the most severe cases."

Rey winced. He'd heard whispers about an illness floating around, seeing more and more of the people wearing surgical masks. There wasn't any word that Mathison was overloaded in clinic, but then again, he hadn't exactly been available to investigate.

"What are the precautions? We can't really move them to another location."

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you." Astrid stood up to throw the empty cups away, shutting the door to her bunk in the process. "The vehicle hub has become a breeding ground, especially with everyone hunkered together. I was thinking we could salvage some beds from C building and set up a temporary barracks of sorts. We have room in the old conference rooms. They're large enough to accommodate two dozen or so."

Rey folded his arms with a mild grunt. The vehicle hub wasn't ideal, but it was spacious and gave the civvies enough room so they didn't feel like sardines. Moving them into the A building conference rooms, although a fraction at a time, would put them right back where they didn't want to be. Some of the families needed the extra space, but it wouldn't matter if everyone succumbed to the contagion without the meds to fight it. They'd have to adjust. They always did.

"Okay, let's make it happen. We'll keep the infected in the vehicle hub for now and move the rest to the conference rooms. If anyone starts showing symptoms, we'll hustle them back into the hub. Make sure we have precautionary plans in place—washing hands, disinfectant, and all that."

Astrid managed a thin smile and nodded in agreement. "I'll get DEV to relay the message. I'm also having to rearrange our provisions. Food mostly."

Rey felt out of place being so out of the loop. It wasn't a good look. He knew Astrid understood, but that didn't ease his conscience. She always took it in stride, however. The woman was a juggernaut in her field, and she had more on her plate when they were dealing with the fallout the Covenant left behind in their destructive wake. She'd be instrumental in rebuilding entire civilizations. Still, she looked as if she hadn't slept in many hours.

"What's the situation?"

Astrid sat back down and turned off her data pad. "Well, the good news is that this place will shut down before run out of food. However, at the rate of our consumption, we'll eat through most of our canned stock—chicken, beans, fruits and vegetables. Rice and potatoes is what we have most, which is good… if we can keep the potatoes from sprouting. For now, to extended our stock, we'll have to get used to a few simplistic meals for a few weeks. Malnutrition is a threat, so we have to be mindful of that. Bellies won't be as full, but we're used to that."

"Yeah." Rey scratched the crown of his head. "We'll manage. You should get some sleep. I have to see Kipp to get an update on the generators."

Astrid appeared relieved, but she only seemed to shift into another gear and remained oblivious to Rey's suggestion to rest. There was no stopping her until she stopped herself. Rey didn't know if he was fond of that quality, because everyone needed a break sooner or later. Even though the Covenant wasn't breathing down their necks, she maintained that sense of urgency that most would lack in their current circumstances. Loyal to a fault and unyielding. That as Astrid in a nutshell.

"I need to supervise the food prep today," she said. "Let me know what Kipp says."

Rey gave a casual salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Astrid rolled her eyes with a toothy smirk, slipping her data pad into her satchel bag before draping it across her chest. She walked by Rey and set her hand on his shoulder on her way out. "We're still in the fight, Reymond. It's not over yet."

Captain Anderton wanted to believe that. He needed to believe that. Home. Earth. The soil beneath his boots and the planet that was the genesis of humanity. A pale blue dot from this far out, but a vibrant beacon so evident that he would do whatever was necessary for him and the others to experience it again. Hope was all that was left now. Hope that Earth wasn't discovered and glassed by the Covenant; hope that the UNSC was still out there fighting; hope that—albeit unlikely—that someone out there knew they were here. Hope was dangerous, but a small dose every now and then never hurt.

He couldn't conceive a smile, only an acute upward turn at the corner of his mouth. He moved his right hand across his body to set it atop Astrid's on his shoulder. Her unsettling pale blue eyes met his. "It's over when we're home."

Kipp could always be found in one of three places: the mess hall, as he never missed a meal; his bunk in the vehicle hub, which rarely used; and finally, where he spent the most time, the engineering block in the camp. It was one level below A Building, completely devoid of civvies, social interaction, and the constant everyday noises that grated his nerves. He felt more comfortable here, surrounded by machinery that hissed, droned, roared, or inaudibly operated without voice or opinion. By no means would he refer to them as 'friends', but they came close to the only things that deserved his constant attention. And most importantly, he never was concerned about the machines shooting back at him.

He hadn't touched his service weapon since the raid, perfectly at peace with never having to empty a round. No, he wasn't a commando elite like the others, but that didn't mean he was in any less danger than the others during that hellstorm. At any moment, one of those little buggers could've walked right up to the driver's door of the M18 and blew him to pieces. He was lucky. All of them were, except Aiden. It wasn't right that he was dead, but that was war. Whether on the largest of scales to the smallest, it always behaved the same. He had no intention of being a war engineer, but that's what the Covenant forced him to be. The aliens had special talent for it, changing everything about you until you no longer recognized who you were to begin with. He would've given anything to return home, to Miridem; but like everywhere else, the Covenant vermin made that impossible.

Genocidal monsters. Every last of them. I hope we can find their worlds and bomb them to hell.

Kipp sat up in his collapsible chair, suddenly intrigued by a subtle pop inside one of the two massive generators in front of him. It was generator number three again; he was sure of it. He closed the weathered novel he was reading, dogearing one of the pages and set it on the floor beside the chair. The heavy vibration from the generator shook his insides as he placed his hands on the warm metal. There was something going on inside the rumbling beast. He and DEV had done a thorough system check last week, but it could've been a number of potential issues that produced the nagging sound. He had to know sooner than later. The generators were their lifeline. If one of them went down, like generator 2 four months ago, then everything they relied upon would eventually crumble. It was hard enough was it was.

All the while, however, Kipp couldn't escape the feeling that he heard something else. It was faint, almost as if he was trying to hear with his head under water. He hoped it wasn't another issue. Tinkering with the heat exchange last cycle was torture in itself. It wasn't until he noticed a shadow angling against the pale gray metal of the generator that he realized he wasn't alone. To see Rey standing behind him sent his heart into his throat. He held his hand over his chest, thankful that the roar of the machines masked his yelp.

Rey waved at him, mouthing and pointing to the doors from which he came through. Kipp nodded and held up his thumb, picking up his novel and following the captain outside. When the doors shut behind them, Kipp removed the noise reduction muffs from his ears and shook his head.

"Surprised to see you down here, Captain. Is there something I can help with?"

"Yeah," Rey nodded. "I needed an update on the generators. How they running?"

Kipp didn't know if the captain had a sixth sense about things, but he always seemed to be in tuned with his surroundings or something. It was oddly unsettling. "We've had a few fluctuations lately, but they're mostly stable."

Rey cocked his head to the left very slowly. "Fluctuations?"

"It's normal with generators at this age. Since we don't have the means to overhaul them, DEV and I have had to improvise. Granted, if we need parts, we salvage them from the gennies that aren't operational."

They would potentially never work again, but Rey felt a prick of concern with Kipp removing parts from the other generators. "I see. Is there a chance our remaining gennies could fail? I know they're strained, but can they last another few years?"

Kipp seemed to chew the numbers over in his head, fiddling with his earmuffs as he chewed his bottom lip. "Ideally, yes. They're relatively strong now, but you never know with a machine. Anything can break. DEV and I service the gennies more than the other machinery here, so we're on top of anything that goes wrong." Kipp saw the change in Rey's face, a subtle morph from genuine inquisition to mild concern. "Look, I know gen 2 failed on us and that was a huge blow, but he know what to look for."

"I don't doubt your expertise, Kipp. I just need to know if our window of two years is consistent with the gennies. How are we on fuel?"

"Not great. I have each one running a sort of eco-mode to reduce fuel consumption. It dampens a few of our systems throughout the camp, but it keeps everything powered. In essence, though, these babies love to drink. I can monitor it. Best guess, they'll fail before the two years. I think we can keep them running for another year and six months. After that, I can't guarantee their reliability."

Rey sighed deeply and looked down at the floor. More bad news. "What if we found more fuel? Would that help?"

Kipp shook his head. "It's not about the fuel; it's about their strength and efficiency. When gen 2 went down, the other two had to pick up the slack. They have to compensate for the additional systems, which is the cause of the strain. Normally, these babies have 15 to 20 years in their lifespans, but by the time we arrived, they were already nearly a decade old. These two gennies are powering two entire buildings and the vehicle hub. That alone has basically cut their lifespans considerably. They're doing the best they can."

Rey masked his disappointment the best he could, seeming to take it well before Kipp's inquisitive nature. The man could pick up on the slightest mannerism, the most acute tick or discomfort. He guessed it was from his time spent with the machines, paying so close attention to them that even the smallest change that would seem insignificant to someone else would be monumental to him. His only hope was that Kipp was more interested in machines than people.

"I'm sure you've heard about the stomach virus spreading?"

Kipp found it irrelevant to the conversation, but he'd hear it anyway. "A little. I probably don't know as much as the next person."

"Astrid and I met earlier. We're moving the non-symptomatic into the conference rooms in A Building. All the sick will remain the vehicle hub. We'll provide beds. If you have anything in your bunk that you need, you'll need to disinfect it before you can take it with you."

Kipp appeared uncomfortable, suddenly taking a keen interest in his hands. "Yeah, I'll do that."

"The reason I ask is because I'm thinking of shutting down the vehicle hub," Rey admitted. He waited to see Kipp's reaction, but he only raised his brows in mild surprise. "Once this infection has run its course, I want to crunch the numbers. I'm assuming that sealing off an entire sector could lengthen the generators, right?"

Kipp wanted to touch his face, thought better of it. That's how germs spread. Now he wished he didn't know more about it. "Perhaps. I'll get with DEV and we'll run some calculations." He put his hands into his pockets. "I also wanted to run some detail maintenance on gen 3. It's probably nothing, but I need to make sure it's nothing serious."

Rey tensed, fists tight. "And what do you think it could be?"

Kipp shrugged. "I won't know until I look inside. The fuel system is fine, including the alternator. But I would like to examine the voltage regulator, heating and cooling, and lubrication systems. I just want to rule some things out."

It was better to be safe, and Kipp wouldn't have suggested it if he didn't have a solid reason. Still, if there was a problem, would they be able to fix it? Kipp and DEV were all they had to mechanics. There was no one else, at least that was alive.

"Just keep me posted," Rey green lit. "I have to get going. Thanks for everything."

"I get what you were trying to do."

The words locked Rey's forward steps like they were surrounded in drying cement. He turned to face Kipp with a look that oozed confusion. "Come again?"

"The Engineer. The raid."

"Ah."

"Yeah. I thought you were crazy, but in hindsight, we could've used it. I'm sure it could've repaired all of this, given us years to come up with a way outta this place."

Rey didn't know what to say initially. He knew he was mostly alone in the idea, but he appreciated that Kipp understood the technical side of the matter. It was a failure that he preferred not to relive. Over the course of his service, he's experienced many failed ops, both against the innies and the Covenant. Nevertheless, all of them weren't easy to accept. They stung, even years later. Now, however, wasn't the time to be stagnate. He was still responsible for the people under his care. He beckoned Kipp with a nod and walked out. There was a new plan out there, some solution that would release then from this frozen isolation and liberate them. He just had to find it.

And where the hell was Damon?