37

Damon and Naomi didn't waste time, dropping the precious coffee they'd found and made a brisk jog to vehicle maintenance. Upon their arrival, it was as Jacen said. A body was lying motionless on the floor, facedown with dried and frozen blood around the head. A gruesome impact wound was at the base of the skull, just behind the left ear.

"He's been here for a while," Naomi examined. She knelt next to the body, giving it a quick once-over. "I'd say at least a few months with decomp."

"Is that so, detective?" Damon looked over at Jacen. "You recognize him?"

"It's Quinn," he said.

The name gave Damon pause. He immediately went around to where the dead man's face was, grabbed his stiff shoulder, and angled his face in the light. Despite a secondary injury to the left side of the man's face, his identity was undeniable. The sunken cheekbones, the wiry facial hair, thin lips, and the perpetual dark circles around his lifeless eyes--yeah, it was Quinn.

Damon stood up. "I guess that solves the mystery. You think Jasmine killed him?"

"It's fairly obvious, don't you think?" Naomi pointed to the back wall. "Check the blood splatter. It looks like he was hit from behind. If that wasn't the killing blow, the second one definitely finished him off."

Jacen held up a small pipe, no longer than his forearm. The metal had weight, maybe 10 pounds. Blood coated the opposite end. "I guess she used this."

Damon exhaled. "She never mentioned what happened to him. Why not tell us? It's not like there would be any love lost over this scumbag."

"No point in trying to unravel what's in Jasmine's head," Naomi said. "You can ask her when we get back."

Damon wanted to know more, but it would have to wait. He was dead and it was a loose end that was tied off. Whether it was out of survival or a disagreement, Díaz was right, he could ask Jasmine later. He looked up at Pearce to see if there was a reaction, but there was nothing on his face.

"Fine. Let's get the fuel and get outta here."

"Didn't you say you had a major find also?" Jacen asked Naomi.

"We did." Naomi unbuttoned one of the pockets on the right thigh of her pants, excitedly yanking out the silver packet and handing it to him. "It's real coffee, Jacen. None of that substitute garbage."

Jacen took the packet in his hands, bringing it close to his face to smell the contents inside. "Are you serious? Is there more?"

"Hundreds more," Damon confirmed. "We have a few cases of it."

Jacen tossed the packet back to Naomi before slapping his hand against the large fuel tank that was against the wall. "Screw the dead guy. That's much better. Look, there's still a few hundred gallons here. If you'll back the M18 in, Vash, I'll fill her up."

"All right." He secured his helmet over his head. "Get ready. I'll kill the oxygen on my way out. Diaz, there were additional O reserves in the supply room. Grab as much as you can with the coffee. I'm sure we'll need it."

Naomi performed a lackluster salute before he walked away.

Damon had the M18 backed up to the vehicle maintenance room within a few minutes. Jacen opened up the garage door, with hazy orange light peeking inside. Naomi had just returned, having several cases of coffee and four small oxygen cylinders at her boots. The engine to the M18 ceased and Damon jumped out.

Jacen unraveled the hose from the fuel tank and dragged it over to where Damon was, watching the Army corporal open the vehicle's fuel cap before inserting the nozzle. He locked it into the place, walked back to the main tank, and started the filling process. The tank rumbled and began to vibrate, the hose wriggling as the fuel flowed through and into the M18.

Damon and Naomi loaded up the coffee and oxygen as Jacen watched the fuel gauge. He shut it off at Damon's command, the corporal removing the hose for Jacen to return to the maintenance room. Complete, Jacen closed the garage door and sealed it, and jogged to the M18 for his shift to drive. He started the engine and pulled off to continue onward.

It would be another 9 hours before reaching the camp in Selk, but Damon was sure he was going to lose his mind before then. The incessant crunching from Naomi's food grated on his nerves. There was no radio in the M18, not for music. Had Kipp installed one, he would've had the volume maxed.

Another crunch.

Damon winced with hunched shoulders. He turned in his seat. "Could you have picked a louder snack?"

Naomi sat up in her seat in the back, brows furrowed with a pretzel between her fingers. "I'm sorry, is my hunger bothering you?"

"Your chewing is, yeah."

"You should relax." She extended the bag to him. "Here, have some."

Damon waved his hand. "No, thanks. Just know that you being here means that we have to change our approach."

Coordinating just himself and Jacen seemed much easier than having to add Diaz into the mix. He had no authority over them. While he wouldn't go as far as to call Pearce and Diaz renegades, they had no cause to listen to him. If things went south and needed to give direction, would they disregard it? But one thing was for certain, when it came to combat skill, he was definitely the lesser of the three. Damon didn't know where the insecurity had come from, but he needed to kick it. Leadership wasn't insecure. There was nothing to prove. So why did it feel like he did?

Naomi had her ideas. "If anything, I feel like our little team has gotten better. You've been spending too much time with Rey and not enough time with that Filipino chick you've been hooking up with."

Damon's eyes enlarged. He swiftly shifted in his seat to look back at Naomi who had a placid look on her face. "That… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't be like that," Naomi laughed, patting Damon on the shoulder. "I think you can do better, but to each his own. What's her name… Linn, I think. Yeah, she's not exactly the type for longevity."

"I agree, Vash, you can do better," Jacen added. "Why not talk to Lauren? She works in meal prep. Nice girl. She even likes you."

Damon covered his forehead with his hand and leaned back in his seat, looking longingly out of the window. He wondered if the glass was as reinforced as advertised. Maybe if he shot a round through it, the two of them would suffocate before too long.

"No, no." Naomi wagged her finger in Jacen's peripheral. "I agree Lauren is nice, but the girl has this Amish vibe going on. I mean, she lives in that apron and someone needs to tell her chopstick exists. No, Damon needs someone with some… conservative fire." She slapped Jacen's shoulder. "Amy in the clinic!"

"Your radar is defective," Jacen laughed. "Amy's more into clams than sausages."

Naomi looked shocked with her hand over her chest. "No way!?"

"You haven't shaken her hand? It's like a bear trap," Jacen added. "Not to mention she also told me."

"Okay, I don't need relationship advice or suggestions from the two of you!" Damon interjected. "What I do in my private time is none of your business. And I don't need to spied on. Learn some boundaries. Damn."

Naomi held her hands up in retreat and scooted back in her seat. "Okay, you prefer a sneaky link. Just trying to help. Forget I mentioned it."

The three of them didn't speak further for several hours, with Jacen swapping driving shifts with Naomi when his time was over. She found herself alone in silence, with the growling of the engine being the only vocal partner. Jacen and Damon had since dozed off, a miracle that the two of them weren't the type to snore.

She hadn't kept track of how long she'd been driving; an hour, maybe two. Highway hypnosis had taken over, her motor functions on autopilot as she guided the rachitic M18 through the blandlands. It was definitely that: bland and featureless. A perfect physical reflection of the life they'd lived here.

Naomi didn't believe a word from Jasmine's mouth, but it was enough to force Rey's hand to embark on this little enterprise. All those years seemed like a waste now, a solid union suddenly crumbled with a few words and streaks of bullets. It was supposed to be the three of them until the end of time: Jasmine, Jacen, and herself. Why was it so easy for her to turn her back, after everything they'd experienced together?

A chain of iron isn't easily broken, unless rust begins to set in, someone once told her.

It was one of the hundreds of lessons taught, but it was nonetheless true. Corrosion was progressive, and in the right environment, it was unavoidable. Maybe there was nothing she could've done about Jasmine. Time here had changed everyone, some faster than others. And now she murdered Quinn, which wasn't a damning offense. Naomi thought of a dozen reasons why he was worth killing, but where was her loyalty if it wasn't with them or Quinn? That made her a wildcard.

Naomi slowed the M18 to a complete stop when she regained her focus. It was then she noticed the pulsating red dot on the console screen. She pursed her lips together and emitted an ear-shattering whistle.

The two men sprung awake, hearts racing and eyes shifting in search of the sound.

Damon held his hand on his chest, feeling his heart vibrate into his palm. "For the love of God, Diaz. First, you infiltrate my personal life and now you're trying to burst my eardrum."

"Yeah, I think I've asked you fourteen different times to stop doing that," Jacen added.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up." Naomi pointed forward. "We're here."

Damon leaned toward with eyes squinted. He panned to the left and then to the right before sitting back with hunched shoulders. "I don't see anything."

"Yeah, because I parked out of sight. The camp is up ahead, down in the crater."

"Then let's get this done." Damon grabbed his gear and weapon and exited the vehicle after Jacen and Naomi secured their helmets.

He crept up to the edge of the Selk crater and looked down into it. The crater was more shallow than he imagined, but the edges were raised enough for him himself out of sight. The camp was in its center, a single structure in a trapezoid shape. Its interior looked dark from a distance, cold and lifeless. He pulled at the hook and loop fastener on his chest rig, removing his binoculars and maximizing it to full zoom.

Jacen took a knee beside him. "What do you see?"

Damon said nothing for a few seconds as he continued to survey. "Nothing so far. A fence around the perimeter. Looks intact, so no forced entry anywhere that I can see."

"Any movement on the rooftop, sentries?" Naomi asked.

Damon shook his head with a frown. He pulled down the binoculars with a frown. "No, nada. You'd think if Covenant was here, they'd have lookouts, right?"

Jacen took the binoculars from him and took a look for himself. "Not necessarily. You don't have to look over your shoulder if you're the top-dog on the block."

"Then maybe we can use that to our advantage. Sneak in, get what we need, and get out."

Naomi stood up from beside Jacen and drew her weapon. "Just like you with Linn. Gotcha."

Damon grumbled. "I'm tempted to leave you out here. Ok, Pearce, you're the master strategist here. What's our route inside?"

Jason pointed east. "There's supposed to be an access door towards the rear. It should take us into the camp's storage area. Not too far from where we need to go. If there's Covenant inside, let's hope they're not occupying it."

"Hope isn't a tactic, but ok." Damon slung his weapon over his back and began descending into the crater. "Let's move. Diaz, hang back and keep an eye out for movement. Hustle."

Damon and Jacen skidded down the incline of the crater, leaning back and taking long strides across the flakey ground beneath them. Naomi remained a healthy 50 yards behind them, occasionally peering through the scope of her rifle. She swept the rooftop once more, expecting to see an alien mug looking back at her at any moment. The moment never came, even after they'd traversed across the open and up against the wall of the building after cutting through the fence.

They stopped to catch their breath before moving in on the access door, creeping within the shadow cast lengthwise along the structure. Jacen led the trio, shotgun at the ready with the stock buried in his shoulder. It was deathly quiet, with only the sound coming from their gear and movement. The wall of metal siding gave way into an inward indentation with a single door within, matching up to the schematics that he studied.

The three of them stood in front of it, reading the discouraging words painted on the metal: WARNING. EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. ALARM WILL SOUND WHEN OPENED. And in smaller print underneath: PLEASE VENT OXYGEN BEFORE EXIT.

Damon sighed. "Now what? We can't gain entry here. I prefer not to use the front door."

"DEV can bypass," Jacen suggested.

Damon walked up to the door and pointed at the words. "Exit only. Alarm. Hello? The second we open this door, our element of stealth, is over. If there's Covenant inside, they'll know we're here. I don't know about you, but I'm not trying to fight our way outta here."

"Who's to say the alarm is even active?" Naomi asked. "We didn't notice any running power. It could be empty. Covenant could've trashed this place and moved on."

Damon cradled his weapon in his arms and looked into Jacen's dark shades that showed a faint sight of his reflection. "I don't like it."

"Then let DEV run a scan," proposed Naomi. "If there's an alarm, we'll find another way inside."

Damon reluctantly agreed. He extracted the small device from his chest rig and thumbed it on. While it was only of DEV, the AI was still more capable than them. The cut-down version of him reminded Damon of the primitive voice-activated AIs back in the 21st century he read about.

"DEV, give me a reading on the building: alarms, power, everything." Damon extended the device towards a dark panel and inserted it into the slot beneath the screen.

"Affirmative," the AI replied in a deadpan, synthesized voice. The panel's screen suddenly lit up, displaying a rotating UNSC insignia. Within seconds, the scan was complete. "Summary: security protocols have been deactivated. Structure power levels are at minimum operation levels of 25%. Oxygen levels at 21.2%. Sections E through G are uninhabitable due to structural damage."

"Any lifeforms inside?" Damon asked.

"Unknown."

Damon took a step back and looked across both Jacen and Naomi. "Well, there you have it."

Naomi swung her rifle over her shoulder. "Then let's get inside."

Damon exhaled and turned to face the door. "DEV, crack it open."

The hinges on the door crunched and squeaked with flakes of ice falling to the ground. It opened just a few inches, venting what was left of the atmosphere that was built up inside. There was no alarm, at least one they could hear.

Jacen clicked on the flashlight on the rail of the shotgun, peering inside for a quick initial inspection. He eased the door fully open with Naomi and Damon standing at the ready behind him.

They entered inside, walking through the oxygen chamber that automatically closed behind them. It was a claustrophobic sensation, the doors sealing tight and rushing breathable air inside until the monitor in front of them flashed green.

Damon looked at them both. "Ready?"

Naomi and Jacen both gave a thumbs up.

Damon nodded, pushing his fears to the back of his mind, and pushed open the door. The smell hit him immediately, a waft of something rotten or dead. It clung to his nose so much that he began tasting it in the back of his throat. He resisted the urge to snatch off his helmet and spit.

"Dios!" Naomi gagged. "What is that?"

"Hell if I know," Damon coughed. "It's nothing good, I bet."

"Keep your bets," Jacen said. He aimed the cone of light at the ceiling a few meters ahead to the right.

There, hanging by one leg from the ceiling, was a corpse. Decomposing and mutilated, the body looked as if it had been hacked with a hatchet. The head missing with the spinal protruding from where the head had been severed. A wide stain of dried blood smothered the floor underneath.

Damon couldn't hold it back. He staggered into the nearest corner, ripped his helmet off, and vomited.

Naomi rebuked the bile rising and cleared her throat. She walked up beside Jacen as he was inspecting the body. "Quite the welcoming decor."

"Or a warning." Javen took a few steps around, tilting his head. He waved Naomi over. "There's something written on the back."

Naomi walked around to where Jacen was standing and grimaced. A word was carved into the skin of the corpse, inverted and possibly done before the poor bastard was strung up. She tilted her head to one side to make out the word.

Banished.