—39—

"If the ship isn't ours, then where is it and whose is it?"

Ross didn't answer Damon's question immediately. She held her finger to her lips as she slowly stood. Voices, deep and muffled, could be heard beyond the thin walls of concrete. They sounded close, accompanied by footsteps supporting considerable weight. Grunts and grumbles in a foreign language became clearer, closer. Ross extended her arm in a 'wait' signal, shaking her head with her finger still over her lips. The growls felt so close and deep that Ross placed her hand over her sidearm. A few seconds elapsed and the voices began to fade with the footsteps until there was only silence.

Ross exhaled and relaxed her hands. Too close. She turned to face them. "I'll explain everything, but not here. You said you have a vehicle?"

"Yes, ma'am," Damon confirmed, "parked just beyond the crater edge."

"I saw an emergency exit en route to your hideout," Jacen said. "If we double back, it's nearby."

Ross began collecting her gear and weapons, stuffing supplies into her rucksack before zipping it close and slinging it over her shoulders. "We can't leave yet. There's one more thing I need to do."

The spark of relief suddenly faded from Damon's eyes and his shoulders sagged. He turned back to look at Naomi and Jacen who wore similar expressions. Jacen covered his face with his hands and shook his head with a sigh as Naomi walked up to Ross.

"Lady, I don't know your attachment to this place, but it's not a good idea to stay here any longer than we need to. What else could you possibly need to do?"

Ross stepped back to increase the space between herself and Naomi. The gross lack of respect from civvies had worn her nerves. She imagined Cpt. Anderton had his hands full on a regular basis. Civvies weren't soldiers; there was no discipline, little respect, and defiance to authority and direction that never got easier.

"There's a prisoner that I can't leave behind. I promised him that if I had a chance to get him out, I would. Now is that chance. A few extra guns gives me that. I won't leave him."

"We respect that, but you can't save everyone," Jacen said. "He's a prisoner, so he'll be—"

"—under heavy guard, I know," Ross concluded. "We'll have to fight our way in and fight our way out. But he's an asset and he can take care of himself. Our chances are better with him."

Naomi's temper began to rise. "Well, if he can take care of himself, then he can get himself out. You did."

"I only escaped because I was being transferred to another area, probably to be killed. I got out of my restraints, stabbed my escort in the eye, and ran for my life. I've been in hiding ever since, but I refuse to leave until I get him out."

"That must've been the cyclops jackal that attacked us when we got here," Jacen recalled.

"Yeah, that was him," Ross nodded. "Felt good to put that bastard down. He killed most of my team."

"Bueno for you," Naomi lightly clapped. "But what's so important about this prisoner that we need to risk our lives for him?"

Ross grabbed Naomi by the neck of her chest rig and yanked her close. "Because he knows where to find the ship; that's why he's so important. Without him, I wouldn't know where to start looking. If none of you have any more questions, then get ready, and let's go."

Naomi forced Ross's hand off her chest and stepped aside and looked at Damon. "Your call."

Damon looked at the intensity in Ross's eyes. She was solid in her conviction and there was no telling her otherwise. It wasn't his call. She outranked him to make the call for them. At this point, Damon didn't give a damn about rank, insubordination, or a dishonorable discharge if he ever returned home; but if the prisoner knew where the ship was, then that made him priority number one.

"Lead the way, ma'am,' he said. "Let's get your boy."

It didn't take long for hell to find them. The makeshift prison that the Banished had created from the barracks was something out of a horror movie. Human technology merged with alien to entrap, torture, to detain. For anyone to survive was a miracle, but survival was the only thing on their minds when the fighting broke out.

A pair of jackals had sniffed them out the moment they stepped into the prison, immediately opening fire. Ross and Jacen took cover behind a blockade of overturned beds, while Damon and Naomi remained behind the doorway. A bolt of plasma vaporized a section of mattress from one of the beds, sending a wave of heat over Ross. She hunkered down to recover as Jacen rose up to return fire.

"They have us pinned!" He shouted over the gunfire. "How much further?"

Ross reloaded her battle rifle. "Straight ahead and to the right. Those are the priority cells."

"And you're sure he hasn't been moved?"

"They never moved him. Trust me." Ross unclimbed a grenade from her belt and primed it. "Incendiary out! Cover fire!"

"You better be right about that," Naomi chimed in.

The three of them emptied their magazines where the jackals were. The aliens backed up with their shields, absorbing the rounds as Ross stood up and threw the grenade towards them. It detonated into a spray of flames, blossoming out across the floor and sending the jackals into a partial retreat.

"Use the smoke," Ross called out. "Push up on 'em!"

Naomi rolled out from cover hugged the right side of the room as Jacen moved parallel to her on the left. Damon came up through the middle, remaining close to the bunks for quick cover. Ross layed down more suppressing fire, seeing the faint shimmer of the jackal's shields through the billowing smoke.

Jacen didn't give the first jackal a chance to react. He reached the end of his path, rounded one of the bunks, and blasted the alien with three shots. The shells ripped open the jackal's side, obliterating its right arm before it dropped. Its shield winked off as the second jackal turned and immediately began firing its plasma pistol. Emerald bolts splashed and dissolved the metal framing of the bunk, sizzling and dripping. Jacen flattened himself on the floor, wishing he had his sidearm to fire back with.

Naomi flanked from behind, firing into the jackal's back. It shrieked and spun around, eating the rest of her ammo into its shield. The flame began to spread, crawling up the fabric of the other bunks and collecting in the middle. Naomi took a few steps back and returned fire, using the smoke to hide from the jackal's keen sight.

"You stay right there." Ross aimed through her scope and pulled the trigger twice.

Six rounds zipped through the flames, two of them slicing through the jackal's head. Alien blood created a mist in the air as the body fell over.

Ross stood up, reloading her rifle. "Everyone green?"

"We're good," Naomi said.

"Vasher, on me. We need to move. The others will have heard the gunfire, and we're not equipped to deal with them."

Damon moved to the edge of the room to avoid the flames, with Ross ahead of him as they went out and turned right. Jacen and Naomi took position behind them.

"You're referring to the leaders?" Damon asked.

"Yes." Ross aimed her rifle as she advanced, left and right and then center. No surprises. "There's only three of them, but that's enough. We wouldn't be able to fight one, let alone three. You're familiar with Brutes, Corporal?"

"Our AI gave us a quick summary, but no, I've never seen one."

"You're lucky," Ross said. "You'll know when you see one. My only advice is to run. Fighting one legit is suicide."

Damon recalled the image DEV had given them: big, ape-like monsters that looked terrifying. He encountered Elites and they seemed scary enough to deal with, but those so-called Brutes seemed like they topped the food chain.

"And where is your AI? We were expecting to find it here."

Ross checked the next corner before she rounded it. Clear. There was a growing stench that she recognized as they got closer, rushing horrid memories back to mind that she swore to repress. She could somehow still hear her own screams echoing in her ears.

"I purged it," she said. "Banished or not, they're still Covenant. They know about UNSC AI. I had my AI to purge the system and then delete itself. I didn't want to risk them accessing more than they already know. And now a question for you: how many UNSC personnel are left at your camp after the mutiny?"

"Just myself, Captain Anderton, and operations coordinator Astrid Shafer," Damon answered. When he said it aloud, it dawned on him just how limited they were. How'd they gotten this far was a miracle. "The rebels made us their primary targets, nearly taking us all out. That's why we've had to recruit civilians."

Ross made a subtle hand gesture toward Jacen and Naomi. "They've had training obviously. They fight like special forces. Your friend Jasmine was the same."

"Long story," Damon said. "You can trust them. They fought with us during the revolt, but they're more like friendenemies… if that makes sense."

"Makes perfect sense, actually," Ross understood. She stopped and gestured for them to come closer. "The main holding cells are just beyond those doors. There should be a single guard. We take it out and we should be able to free him and get the hell outta here."

"And how do we know the big boys aren't there?" Jacen wanted to know. "We've made a lot of noise. They could've beefed security."

"Not here they wouldn't," Ross corrected. "The leaders stay in the control hub; I'm guessing to protect whatever they have in there of value. They don't care about the prison blocks."

"Let's hope you're right," Naomi said. "We're all running low on ammo. I'm not fist-fighting these things."

"Just follow me," Ross said with a tone of aggravation. "I know a way inside without using the doors. Stay low."

The four of them moved at an angle, close against the wall as they passed the double doors that read C BARRACKS at the top. There was an alternate entryway down the hall with alien symbols painted in red around the border. Ross gave them a hand signal to stay in place as she crept towards the entry. She peered inside, head only, and took a quick survey.

C Barracks was upgraded, meant for noncommissioned officers and the like. There were privacy walls between bunks, four to block-like cubicles. And the Banished made quick work to convert them into cells, the beds and other comforts thrown out and replaced with only a force field barrier.

The cells were empty now, once places of torment and devoid of hope. There were still bloodstains and splatter marks from the executions. She put it out of her mind and waved the three of them over. They slipped inside and remained low. Ross pointed ahead in silence, focusing their attention to a glow of cerulean-fuchsia light that danced on the ceiling. They advanced, moving between the cell blocks until a faint droning sound became more pronounced.

"Here," Ross mouthed. She held up two fingers, pointing to herself and Naomi and then to Jacen and Damon. Using her arms, she made a looping motion until her hands converged. She gave a thumbs up to each of them until they agreed and understood.

The two pairs separated, one going left and the other going right. They eased around the rectangle block of cells, this one having six. Once at the edge, Ross gingerly leaned forward to steal a look. A single jackal stood in front of the only occupied cell, the light reflecting off of its grayish-brown skin. It looked attentive, its head moving in every direction with its carbine at the ready. It suddenly became still, sniffing the air with inquisition. The feathers rose upon its head and its back arched. A low growl came.

"Now!"

The four of them leaned out and shredded the jackal with overlapping fields of fire. When the gunfire ceased, the corpse was only a pile of meat riddled with holes.

Ross sprung up and jogged toward the cell, wearing a relieved smile. "I told you I'd come back."

Jacen, Damon, and Naomi walked over to see for themselves. For everything they went through to reach him, the prisoner had better be worth it. But there was no amount of mental preparation that could've prepared them for what they saw. The look on the face of Ross gave them the expectation of a friend, a fellow soldier that she—pending death—wouldn't abandon to the enemy. Instead, confined within the cell with its long arms restrained, was a badly beaten and bruised Elite.