"Make a path, make a path!"
"Make way, idiots! Make way!"
Office of Naval Intelligence Junior Field Agent (Probationary) Berlin stood up with a pained grunt and moved out of the way of the cart and its marine escort, the third in twenty minutes. She thought about taking a peek at the large crate under the heavy plastic tarp, but a nasty case of side-eye from one of the marines neatly put an end to that impulse. Her ONI credentials didn't go for much around here; better to stay on their good side.
"Probably not the best place to sit… Scheiße." One of the stitched up cuts on her inner forearm was bleeding again, further staining her already ruined uniform. To add insult to injury, this one wasn't even a result of combat like the others, just of cutting herself on a shard of metal while clearing debris. She'd given the most embarrassing yelp when the corpsman stitched her up… and now it was open again. The memory alone was enough to make her groan out loud and drop her face into her hands. "Better go get it fixed again… with my luck, it'll be the same guy," she mumbled.
Ambling down the hallway towards an aid station, Berlin had to duck under a door jammed half-open. In lieu of proper repairs, someone wedged a sturdy piece of metal between it and the floor to keep it from slamming shut on some unfortunate soul. As she emerged on the other side, she collided with another body.
"Oof! Watch it, you—!" She took a deep breath and mentally checked herself. She was too on edge, she could already hear Beijing lecturing her. "I mean… sorry. Are you okay?"
"Fuck's it to you?" the sailor growled. She roughly shouldered past Berlin and crouched under the same door, dragging a trolley with a bulky sealed crate maglocked to it. Another sailor followed her, pushing from the other side. "Fuckin' spook… stay outta the way," he added, sending Berlin a suspicious glare as he labored to get the bulky package through the gap.
The agent stood stock-still as they passed out of sight, hand raised in apology. "Well, good day to you too," she muttered, lowering her hand and checking to make sure she hadn't dropped her datapad during the bump. "Why do I even try…"
Further along the hall, the smell of ozone and cigarettes wafted past her. A civilian work party followed moments later, hauling several bulky welding units and smoking in open defiance of the signs on the walls. Berlin moved aside to let them pass, wrinkling her nose at the acrid stench of tobacco smoke. The civilians sized her up as they passed, eyes lingering on the small ONI insignia on her shoulder. A sharp glance sent them scurrying off.
Turning a corner, Berlin stepped past two sets of double doors hastily plastered over with emergency notices and directions, through a small antechamber, and into a large, round room crowded with humanity. Lost, injured and exhausted civilians huddled together on dirty plastic squares, shivering at every misplaced clang and footstep. They gave Berlin a wide berth as she passed, remaining silent even as her bootprints soiled their UNSC-issue blankets and blood from her cut dripped onto their tarps. Soldiers patrolled between them, eyes sharp and wary, fingers lingering over their triggers. From the ways their eyes darted around, they seemed a sneeze away from filling her with bullets. She resolved to keep her distance.
"Stay in line, wait your turn! Stay in line!" A med-station occupied a small off-shoot, large enough to hold a few examination tables and associated equipment. Berlin quietly entered the back of the line and watched the team of corpsmen as they worked quickly and efficiently, treating what they could and sending what they couldn't away on stretchers. Despite their efforts, though, the queue grew steadily larger and rowdier and the troops on crowd-control grew twitchier and twitchier.
"Sir, stay in the line! Your turn will come!" A soldier stood off against a large, burly civilian in a dock worker's jumpsuit. Sweat beaded on the man's forehead above the remarkable shade of red coloring his round cheeks as he waved his arms and ranted.
"Fuck you!" The man took a step forward, puffing himself up above the soldier. "I've worked and lived here for years, and you fuckers think you can waltz in and take over and send me to the back?! Fuck you! You brought the Abbies here in the first place, this is all your fucking fault!"
"Sir, nobody is telling you to go to the back. I'm only asking you to wait your turn!"
"Fuck that! You get us more meds and food right now, or we'll take this fucking moon for ourselves!" He raised his arms in the air and turned to the other civilians, continuing to shout and agitate. Safeties began clicking off as more civilians started nodding along with the man. The soldier backed up, as other asked for orders over the radio, but based on the spreading mutters and rising fists, those orders might come too late. Berlin knew the rules of engagement prevented them from subduing the crowd before it turned violent… but ONI had never felt particularly bound by rules, had it?
"Civilians in Sector 5-Central are becoming agitated. Requesting permission to move in—ah!" The soldier spun around as Berlin walked up next to her, rifle halfway up. "What the hell do you want?"
"I have some experience with disciplining dogs," she replied, pointing her chin at the burly man. "Might I take a stab?"
"…" The soldier glanced at her ONI logo. "… go ahead." She then turned away and continued speaking into her radio, asking for reinforcements.
"'You're very welcome'," Berlin mimed. She sighed and hooked her thumbs in her pockets, adopting a slumped posture and pleasant expression. "Excuse me, sir!" she called to the burly man, eyeing the union patch on his shoulder. "I couldn't help but notice you're a part of the Eridani Dockworkers Union."
The man turned and squared up to her, thrusting out his chest and making Berlin feel every inch that her 5'-6" frame lacked. "So I am. Why the hell do you care?"
She put on a defensive air and backed up a couple of steps, turning to hide her insignia and holding up her datapad. "I'm conducting a survey of what makes people prefer the EDU over United Dockworkers. What benefits do you feel EDU provides over a more widespread organization?"
"Survey this, UNSC fucker." He spat next to her boots and glared at her. "You'll get yours soon enough."
Berlin nodded in an absentminded sort of way, then turned back to the soldier and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Private, this man just threatened a Field Agent of the Office of Naval Intelligence. On my authority, arrest him."
The soldier blinked and gave her a second, closer look, then nodded. "Gladly. Jack, help me out here!"
"Hey, what, you can't—" Bravado gone, the man backed up, looking to the suddenly quiet civilians for support and finding none. In desperation, he took a clumsy swing at the closest soldier and missed. "Don't touch me—agh!"
As the soldiers beat the man into bloody submission and hauled him away, Berlin cast a cold gaze over the chastened crowd. "As for the rest, consider yourselves dispersed for agitation." A few looked defiant, but no one seriously wanted to mess with the five soldiers behind her leveling their guns and fingering shock batons. Her lip curled into a sneer at their lack of movement. "Did I stutter, worms? Disperse." Turning to a soldier with sergeant's insignia on his shouders, she murmured, "Keep a closer eye on these idiots. There's some shifty looks going around."
The sergeant bobbed his head. "Will do, Agent. And… thank you. I guess." His tone was wary and his gaze cold, but maybe a little less so than before, and Berlin decided that that counted as a job well done. And, as a pleasant bonus, she was the only person in line for the med-station.
"Quite the show there," a corpsman said as Berlin approached. She matched the agent's flat stare through her protective glasses, tired and irritated eyes meeting each other. "Really appreciate you cracking that guy on the head. I love having more work on our hands, really makes my day."
"You're very welcome," she grumbled, sticking her bleeding arm out. "The stitches came out; is that too much work for you?"
"Might just be, with that lip." The corpsman liberally sprayed a metal examination table down with bleach and beckoned for Berlin to lay her arm out. "Come here, let me see. No jerking around! Or this suture'll go somewhere more fun for me than you."
"Yeah, yeah, Scheiße!" Berlin hissed as an antiseptic wipe brushed across her wound. "No, no, I'm okay. What's, uh, what's your name?" she asked, trying to ignore the pain.
"Chiho Hikowa. This will hurt, but you're ONI, so don't be a bitch." Hikowa pressed a hypospray of anesthetic firmly but not roughly against Berlin's skin around her wound, then flipped a pair of surgical loupes over her glasses. "Ah, that is nasty. How'd you get it? Battle wound?"
"…" Berlin mumbled indistinctly. Hikowa leaned in and made a 'speak up' motion. "… cut myself clearing debris."
"Awwww, was our little spook doing some community service?" Hikowa grinned mischievously, then checked her watch. "Alright, painkillers should be in effect now. Here I go…" She drew out a pair of sterile disposable tweezers and poked into the wound. "Was it aching before the stitches broke?" At Berlin's nod, she grunted, "No wonder. There's a small splinter still in here… super-duper easy to miss." She slowly and gingerly extracted it, placed it on a tray, and used a disinfectant pad to wipe up some more bleeding. "Okay, hold still. Stitches going in now." Berlin refused to look away as the the needle and thread wove through skin and muscle, knitting her arm back together. "Okay, all done. I'll wrap a bandage around it too. Come back if it hurts excessively, won't stop bleeding, or becomes discolored. Anything else before you skulk off to wherever it is spooks go?"
"Um…" Berlin watched as Hikowa pulled off her examination gloves and tossed them in the trash, then started to clean up her workstation. Maybe she could tell her something about those mystery crates… but how to get her guard down "Actually, I couldn't help but notice… are your hands shaking a little?"
Hikowa's hands instantly stilled before the corpsman gave a low chuckle. "Guess you caught me. Figures a spook would see." She set down a pair of scissors and let her head hang, letting out a bone-weary sigh. "Dunno. I guess… well, I'm from Scorpia. You know, the wreck laid up in the dock right now? The one they're moving nukes off of? She barely got out of Roseport alive, but if we hadn't taken so much damage…" She waved a hand in the air. "We'd be out there, fighting on the line, probably dead right now. Hell, we'd be dead anyway, if it weren't for that… that girl, which I'm still in shock about, I'll have you know. So… every now and then it hits me how fucking lucky I am to be alive… and how many people weren't so lucky. And it's scary." She looked up, eyebrow raised. "Why're you suddenly so curious, anyway?"
"…" Berlin pressed her lips into a thin line against memories of freezing city streets. "… believe it nor not, I can relate. But more importantly—" She abruptly leaned in. "What was that about nukes?"
The floor was littered with debris, one of the lights kept flickering, the desk would probably never be tidy again, but sitting in an office, even a temporary one, gave Garcia a sense of calm. Here, he could plan. Other people considered the office a trap, but right now, with a data pad in front of him, a pot of coffee on the side and quiet hum of life support and voices, it was a refuge.
"Garcia! You've got some nerve!"
"Hey, wait, you can't come—listen to me!"
Garcia closed his eyes and pressed his fingernails into his forehead, counting to five and waiting for the problem to go away on its own. When it didn't, he opened them back up, forced a smile and clapped for attention.
"Okay, everyone! Take ten, grab some food and water, find your relief if you need to. We still got a long way ahead of us." He nodded at the marine at the door, trying valiantly to prevent a 5'-6" ball of fury from entering. "It's okay, take a break. I'll deal with this."
The marine hesitated, then reluctantly got out of the way and left the room. That left just Garcia, the office, and one short and very piqued rookie ONI agent. "Agent Berlin!" Garcia held his smile as she came to a fuming halt in front of his desk. "This is a surprise. How are you?"
"Spare me the crap, Captain." Berlin brought her palms down hard on the desktop and leaned forwards. "You've been keeping me in the dark, and no one keeps secrets from me."
In an ONI interrogation cell, he'd have been spilling his deepest secrets and his mother's as well. As it was, Garcia had a pretty good idea what she was talking about, but seeing an ONI agent this irritated yet impotent was a unique sight indeed. It was probably bad for his lifespan, but he wanted to see just how far he could string her along. "Whatever are you talking about, Agent Berlin? I've been completely cooperative with your requests."
"Bull-fucking-shit. I don't know if you're doing this on your own, or if it's Lasky's orders, but if you thought you could pull this stunt under my nose you've got another one coming!"
"You still haven't told me what I haven't told you, you know?"
"The nukes, Garcia. Why are you moving nukes through the station?"
"… that's strictly need-to-know. Operational security—"
"That's not how it works, Captain." With a beep, the office door locked itself. Garcia shot up, mouth half-open to call for a guard before remembering he'd sent them all away. Swallowing, he looked down at Berlin, sitting on a revolving chair she'd drawn up from somewhere. "I am an ONI agent. I am OpSec." Her change in demeanor was striking; she leaned back, relaxed, hands laced behind her head like she had all the time in the world. "Oh, and don't bother calling for help. The base systems respond to my override, and there will be no communications going out of this room until you and I have a nice, long chat about what exactly the hell is going on. So please," A smirk on her face, she helped herself to his coffee and motioned for him to sit. "Let's have a talk."
His eyes flicked around the room, halfheartedly looking for a way out he knew wasn't there. "Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Garcia sat heavily, feeling every hour of work in his bones, and massaged his temples. "I guess someone like you'd eventually find out one way or another…" Berlin gave an unapologetic shrug. "Alright, fine. But people will be coming back in ten minutes. If they find the door locked… well, does ONI training cover a dozen angry marines?"
"You'd be surprised. Now, talk. What's changed on the outside? Those nukes aren't being moved into demolition position, so it's not a scorched earth situation yet, but it's obvious you're planning something." She took a sip from the cup and raised her eyebrows. "Oh, that's good."
"Yes, and it's mine." Pulling the pot closer, Garcia tapped his datapad and brought up Lasky's orders. "Who did you find out from? I gave strict instructions to keep those things sealed and covered. I'm going to have to have a little chat about discretion."
"I protect my sources." Berlin, slid the datapad to her side and quickly read through the orders. Then read them again, eyes narrowing. "Was zur Hölle?"
"Didn't see this one coming, did you?"
"No. No, I really didn't." Berlin dropped the data pad on the table and ran a hand over her face. "Mein Gott, I am tired of this war."
"Tell me about it." Garcia took a slug of coffee, warming his insides with the drink. "I'm starting to think humanity might never see a peaceful age."
"It seems to be our lot, doesn't it?" Berlin drank her own coffee morosely. "Fighting the aliens is just a break from fighting ourselves, and if we don't have a reason to fight we'll find one." She arched a look at Garcia over the rim of her mug. "You Navy types, I know you don't like ONI. You find us distasteful. But what we do allows you to hold onto your honor, to pretend like you're fighting for peace when there's really only more war. You think we're some sort of nefarious shadow government, pulling all the strings, but if we went away, the things you'd have to do to keep a semblance of peace would have men and women deserting by the thousands."
"I never said anything about not liking ONI. And I can acknowledge what you do is necessary without liking how you do it," Garcia countered. "Besides, it's not like you've never stirred up war where it suited you in the past."
"Only in the name of peace." She waved the subject away. "On a more pertinent subject, Forward Unto Dawn. Do you think she's what she really claims to be?"
Garcia rolled his eyes and barely held back an exasperated sigh. "If I had a credit for everyone who asked me that… the answer is I don't know. I just don't know." He shook his head and drained his coffee. "She very well could be. I'm not about to argue with that kind of power. But at the same time, if she really is… well, if I was the type of man to work for ONI, I'd be a little worried about her loyalties."
Berlin raised an eyebrow. "Spill."
"Well, if she is Forward Unto Dawn, she's already spent an entire lifetime fighting and dying for humanity and the UNSC, right? We've had soldiers, admirals, hell, even Spartans crack after that. But now, if this is her second life, and the first thing she's got to do is do it all over again?" Garcia placed his hands on the table, fingers laced together and palms up. "Well… it's a lot."
"I see your point. I hate it, but I see it."
"Yeah. But, really, what's the point of arguing about it? She tore through two dozen Abyssal ships and asked for seconds; what could we really do against her? It's all just a mess, and I'm just trying to muddle my way through."
"Yeah. It's all a big fucking mess." She slumped into the nearest chair without permission and kicked her boots up on the table. Sighing loudly over Garcia's feeble protests, she dropped her head back and flung her arms out. "Speaking of messes, did you know this was my first independent assignment?"
Garcia raised an eyebrow, tone and expression the definitions of dull surprise. "Really now? I couldn't tell at all."
"Fuck off." With blood beginning to pool in and make her head pound, Berlin leaned back forwards and rubbed her face with one hand. "Just a simple assignment. Gather information, compile a report, submit for further review. Basic skills, then move onto more complicated things… and then this happened. What the hell am I supposed to put in my report now?!" She raised her head and glared at Garcia. "This is your fault."
His face turned an intriguing shade of red. "My fault? How the hell is this my fault?!"
"It's all because of that that ship-girl-spirit-demon-whatever person! There are protocols for sudden invasions in the middle of missions! I would have just made a small addition to my report, filed a form, and hey presto everything's taken care of. But now? There's no protocol for this! It's all messed up, and since she spawned on your ship, I'm sure you're at fault somehow!" Letting out a strangled, stress-induced groan, she pinched the bridge of her nose hard enough to leave a mark. "I'm gonna be under investigation for weeks, I'm going to look incompetent, I fucked up the simplest goddamn thing!"
Garcia shook his head in disbelief, but something as mundane as an ONI agent's career troubles was surprisingly refreshing in a schadenfreude sort of way. He was about to reply when he noticed the timer he'd set on the corner of his desk.
"Ah, the mission's about to start. I'd ask if you'd like to watch, but I doubt my permission means jack to you." Garcia pressed a few buttons on his datapad, causing it to project onto a larger screen mounted on the wall. "Care to join me? We can see Dawn's loyalties for ourselves."
"Don't mind if I do. I'll unlock the door, too." As people began filtering back into the office, half-eaten sandwiches and large cups of steaming coffee in hand, giving curious looks to the ONI agent calmly chatting with their captain, she sat back and kicked her legs up onto the desk. "Let's see what this spirit of yours can do."
"Gun it, Chief! Jump! Floor it! Right into the hangar!"
"If we don't make it…"
"We'll make it."
"Wake me. When you need me."
"Wake up, Chief."
"I need you."
Dawn opened her eyes with a gasp. She shot up straight, nearly slamming her head against the passenger bay's low overhead compartments. The last whispers of a fitful dream lingered in her ears as she let out a deep breath. "Only a dream," she said, gently touching the scar which circled her stomach and lower back. "Only a dream," she repeated.
"All okay?" The corpsman across from her leaned forwards, concern on his face. "You were muttering in your sleep."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm… okay. Good." Dawn absentmindedly tugged at the auto injectors strapped to her arm, steadily drip-feeding a mix of painkillers, combat drugs, and saline hydration solution into her veins. It was enough to stop a grown man's heart, but in her bloodstream all the cocktail could do was dull her hastily treated wounds into an ignorable background ache while sharpening her senses and reinforcing her abused and aching muscles. She almost felt fighting fit again… but only just, and as soon as the drugs ran out she'd be a mewling puddle on the floor. "This thing is just… I don't like having to rely on it."
"Sorry, but we need you in shape right now, even if just for a few hours more. Are your injuries bothering you? I can adjust the dosage."
"No, no, they're fine. If you really want to help, you can get this thing off." She pointed to the collar around her neck, an unobtrusive band of metal packed with explosives and quantum-linked to a detonator on board the Infinity. 'Think of it as a test of the latest in prisoner-control technologies,' the technician who fitted her with it quipped. Dawn somehow failed to find the humor in her words.
The corpsman grimaced and shook his head. "Again, sorry. Admiral's orders. For what it's worth, I don't like it either." He glanced at a readout on his wrist-mounted datapad. "Well, your vitals are within the previously observed range. Given what you are, I don't know that that means jack, but everything seems good to go, beside an elevated cortisol level." He looked up, smiling slightly. "Nervous?"
"No, I am absolutely confident that I will go in and charm the pants off these aliens, stay alive through the entire thing, save humanity and end singing 'Kumbaya' around the campfire," she snapped, then took a deep breath to check her surging stress levels. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled."
"Whatever." The corpsman waved a dismissive hand. "Not gonna pretend like I've never gone off on someone. Are you… off the record, are you really okay with doing this?"
Dawn pressed her lips together and bowed her head. "… well, it's got to be done, doesn't it? My feelings won't change a thing."
Before the corpsman could respond, a knock on the hull and the gentle hand of deceleration shook the last vestiges of sleep from her brain. "Wakey wakey, have a nice rest?" the pilot said over the Pelican's intercom.
"No," she groaned, earning a chuckle in response. "I think I got run over by a tank."
"Sounds like an average day of shore leave. This is as far as I can go." The whine of the engines disappeared, leaving the passenger bay in silence. "It's your show from here."
"Thank you," she replied, removing her safety harness and stretching out. A hiss escaped her as the corpsman helped her stand, teeth grinding against the deep ache in her muscles and bones and the way her barely-healed burns rubbed against her clothes. Eternal's corpsmen did their best in the time they had, but every single part of her still felt stiff and wrung out, not helped by her awkward sleeping position. Part of her doubted her neck and spine would ever straighten out again. Gingerly, she ran a finger over her numerous cuts and puncture wounds, still red and raw, making sure they wouldn't suddenly open on her.
The corpsman gave her a final once-over, expression resigned. "Well, I really do hate to be the one to send you out like this, but we've done all we can and like you say, what's gotta be done's gotta be done. Stay safe, you hear me? Don't let our hard work going to waste."
"Understood. You too, you hear me? And you in the cockpit as well."
"Wilco." With that, the rear ramp dropped, and Dawn stepped out into nothingness. "Recovery One away. Good luck down there, out." Turning around, she caught one final view of the corpsman waving out the closing ramp before the light cut off and the Pelican accelerated away, hightailing it back to the fleet.
"Understood." A few seconds of concentration called her ship-form into being… part of it, at least. With only her propulsion, helmet, a smattering of armor plate around her arms, and half her normal PDC and missile suite, Dawn felt rather vulnerable compared to her fully equipped state. However, painful experimentation had shown that, for now, this was as much as she could manifest without starting to bleed all over the floor. It seemed that wounds acquired in rigging stayed with her rigging. "Infinity, this is Forward Unto Dawn. Are you receiving me, over?"
"Solid copy, reading you five by five. Audiovisual telemetry and vitals monitoring are green, over."
The explosive collar hung heavy. "Copy Infinity, I'm approaching the enemy fleet now. Over."
Radar contact with UNSC ships grew spotty, replaced by the blinking red dots of hundreds of Abyssal warships. As she crossed no-man's-land, the Abyssal fleet loomed large in front of her, all sleek black-purple hulls, strange, flowing geometries, and bristling with weapons and unfriendly intentions. Her breathing sped up and her skin itched as she passed the outer pickets and felt their sensors lock onto her. All that bravado she'd put up in front of General Kim deserted her, and she gulped as a pair of picket cruisers and a destroyer division broke off to match her vector.
"God, what the hell am I doing…?" She eyed them, staring down the bores of cannons twice as large as her head and trying to see if they were turning to bring weapons to bear. Though the muzzles of their main batteries loomed large, the turrets dotting their flanks didn't seem to be pointing at her. "Helm, set a course for the target."
Understood. Setting acceleration course.
The cruisers did not attempt to force her onto any specific path, instead constantly trailing just a few dozen kilometers behind like a pair of extraterrestrial hunting dogs. Dawn flipped them off to make herself feel better, watching the distance to the Abyssal flagship grow smaller and smaller. Fighter squadrons flew by in lazy formation while the bulk of battleships hung around her, an obvious show of force that was very, very effective. This close, she could feel her skin crawling in a way that was decidedly not kosher.
Dawn opened up an internal channel to her bridge crew. "Hey guys, do these guys creep you out too?" No response, of course, but anything to break the silence. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the Covies are pretty off-kilter, but this is something else." Beyond the obvious danger they represented, there was just something about them, something almost… "Steady there," she muttered to herself, "focus. Don't go thinking about things that ain't relevant. Time enough for that later." Yet even as she fixed her eyes forwards, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling, one that made her shiver and want to rub her arms, that there was something familiar about these new aliens.
Familiar, yet otherworldly at the same time. That much was clear as she decelerated the last few hundred kilometers to her objective. Her crew was deathly silent, one eye on their stations and another on the ship looming in the armor-reinforced windows. It hung in orbit in front of the backdrop of Turul's cratered exterior, backlit by the light reflected off the moon's surface. Dawn could feel eyes all over the fleet looking alongside her, through the feed of her helmet cam. The smooth metal hull began to grow lumps and crevices, turrets and missile pods, impact craters and plasma scars as she hit five kilometers separation, the surface quickly rising to meet her and fill her horizon. A small blue light appeared, pulsing, and Dawn guessed that was where she was meant to go. She course corrected towards it, every nerve on fire, body coursing with adrenaline both natural and injected.
As Dawn slowly fell the last few dozen meters to the titanic Abyssal warship, the source of the light grew clear. A slim, pale figure, humanoid in form, with one blazing blue light where an eye would have been on a human stood out in the vacuum, evidently waiting for her. Dawn could make out some sort of metal harness, similar to her own rigging, attached to the thing's body, with other pieces of unknown function hovering in its proximity. The parts of it not covered by armor were a pasty grey-white that could have been skin or some sort of cloth. A She landed about ten meters away and fell into a guarded stance, ready to fight, talk, or flee as needed. The figure lowered its head, allowing long, silver hair to fall around its shoulders, and met Dawn's eyes with its one.
"So you came."
"I read some interference in the feed."
"Copy. Increase frequency cycling on arrays four and five."
The comms officers gave no hint of noticing the oppressive aura that filled the room. Lasky reached up to loosen his collar and glanced around the CIC. Roland manifested in the center of the display, surrounded by floating video feeds and charts. Captain Shen stood on the other side of the room, leaning over a tactical officer's shoulder. Several intelligence officers pored over the incoming data, murmuring excitedly to each other.
"Well, if that's not unsettling then I'm a chatbot." Amidst a swirl of reports and data, Roland somehow found time to comment on the grainy incoming video. "Apart from the uninspired color palette, floaty metal bits, cartoon eye and affinity for sucking on hard vacuum, that thing almost looks human."
"Focus, Roland. Give me an update on fleet disposition."
"All units on station and maintaining position. Repairs and tests are underway on critical equipment. Enemy deployment has not changed." With a wave of his hand, Roland clipped a small portion and put it on replay. Studying it closely, he continued his train of thought. "Now, I'm not trying to imply anything — yet — but does that sound like anyone we know?"
"It's a little late to voice doubts," Lasky said crossly. "And we have our friends in intelligence here to analyze the footage. Shouldn't you be focusing your efforts elsewhere?"
"I'm wounded, Admiral. Surely you aren't implying I don't have the processing capacity for both?"
"Not at all, but part of your job is monitoring and reporting fleet status."
"We have our friends in the CIC here to give those reports. Speaking of which, here are a few now." Roland pointed behind Lasky.
"Give me a second." He motioned for the officers in question to proceed. "Update me."
The comms officers looked at each other, then shrugged and forged on. "Cruisers Leyte Gulf, Gibraltar, Red Cliffs, and battleship Lugh report power failure upon charging main battery, request permission to fall back to Reach orbit to repair."
"Evacuation of critical personnel and equipment complete. General evacuation seventy percent complete."
"Rioting has broken out on Manassas station. Security forces are deploying narcozine gas."
"Essex reports that launch and recovery mechanisms remain inoperable, requests to transfer aerospace assets to other units and retreat."
"Granted, continue with the evacuation, refrain from escalating unless absolutely necessary, granted." Lasky turned back to the yellow AI, now comparing two videos side by side. "In any case, we're too committed to be doubting ourselves now. We'll just have to trust that Forward Unto Dawn is on our side — and that we can back her up when the Abyssals suddenly but inevitably betray us."
"Is it really betrayal when they were never on our side?"
The English coming out of the alien's mouth was a little surprising, but honestly not even close to the weirdest thing Dawn had seen all day. "Yeah. I did." Trying to maintain a relaxed appearance, Dawn made sure that the small camera clipped to her helmet wasn't wobbling too much. "I heard you wanted to talk."
"Mm. We did say that, didn't we?" Its voice sounded like two people overlaid on one another, voices clashing and discordant. The Abyssal fell silent, arms crossed and head cocked to one side like a curious child. Dawn shifted uncomfortably under its gaze, keenly aware of the many ears listening in on the conversation. After a few seconds of that, with the Abyssal not moving an inch and Dawn's squirming growing more pronounced, she couldn't take it any longer. "Well?!" she burst out, "I'm here now, aren't I? What are we talking about?"
An infuriatingly triumphant and startlingly human smirk spread on the Abyssal's expression, causing Dawn to snarl. "What a petulant little puppy. Haven't your masters taught you not to bark?"
"The only one who's barking is you, alien scumbag!" Fuming, Dawn took a deep breath and calmed herself. Stay cool, stay professional. There's more at stake than your pride. "Okay, fine. Let's get down to business. Unless you just called just to chat?"
"Hardly. Talking to humans is like talking to a Grunt. It makes us feel stupid and dirty." A few unhelpful semi-offended snorts and chuckles came through Dawn's radio. She gave her earpiece a good whack as the Abyssal waved a dismissive hand, uncrossing its arms and standing up straight. "However, we do have a proposition to convey to you."
"Oh yeah?" Dawn folded her arms, trying to look uninterested. "I'm all ears."
"Very well. It should be simple enough for you to understand." The Abyssal raised a languid finger and pointed it straight at her. "You surrender and submit to capture. In return, we will withdraw from this system and conduct no further attacks for a span of 20 days. That should be sufficient time for you to perform evacuations or strengthen defenses or do whatever you see fit."
"…" Dawn had seen this one coming from an AU away, as had the various intel officers who'd given her a crash course in negotiations. The prepared response to this kind of offer was 'no'. It was easy in theory… but how the Abyssal would respond was another question entirely. A quick mental command increased the trickle of combat drugs into her veins, preparing her for combat. "I'm sure you can figure out my answer to that one."
The Abyssal tilted its head. "Are you sure? Look at yourself. You can hardly stand. And don't try to bluff your way through us, you stink of chemicals." It waved it hand in front of its nose… or where its nose would have been, had the metal plate which covered its other eye not extended down that far.
"Yeah, well, cinnamon and vanilla are chemicals too, and people like those," Dawn muttered defensively. "Besides, so what? Even if I smell like a rat's ass — which I might, honestly — I can stand long enough."
"We shall see. In any case, do not dance around the question. What is your answer?"
"It's a hard 'no' from me. Non. Nein. Nyet." She leveled a finger at the Abyssal. "Here's my counter-offer: you and your buddies take yourselves, take your ships, take each and every one of you, fuck off to some other galaxy and never come back. In return, I might not find your planets and turn them into ash. Deal?"
"Tempting," the Abyssal said dryly, "and bold. We are amused. But do not make threats you do not have the strength to make good on."
"And how do you know for sure that we don't?"
"We know many things. Things that you don't want us to know. Things that you don't even know you don't know."
"'Know' doesn't even sound like a word anymore," Dawn complained. "But alright. So your answer is 'no' — ugh, fuck that sound! Then we appear to be at an impasse." She crouched ever so slightly, getting ready to either charge or retreat, fire her MAC or pull out a weapon out of her extensive armory, whatever the situation called for. "Have any more 'offers'?"
"Naturally." The Abyssal suddenly took a step forwards, sending Dawn hopping half a step back before she caught herself. "We never really expected you to say yes, but did have hopes that appealing to rationality might produce a breakthrough. Evidently, that was not the case. Therefore, we shall appeal to something else."
"Oh yeah? What, money? Power? Honor and glory. What's it going to be?"
"Something which we dearly hope you possess." The Abyssal pointed at Dawn's head. "Your instinct for self-preservation." Before Dawn could open her mouth, it continued. "You have clearly seen, and fought, the strength of our forces. Having only lived a few days, you almost died in the process. What if we told you this was only a fraction of a fraction of our true power? Could you do it again, and again, and again and again and again? When will your luck run out?" It spread its arms and tilted its head back, eye flicking up towards the uncaring stars. "And while you think about that, mull over this, too. Surely you want to experience more of what life has to offer? You have already had a life of fighting and suffering, why should your second life be the same? We know what you want: to taste good food, to feel a warm sun on your skin, to walk through a city, to lay in a field of grass, to breathe fresh air. Simple desires, but ones you cannot truly fulfill on a few day's leave in between battles. And there will be battles, more than you can count, until your strength fails and you die. And the dead cannot live their dreams. They do not even dream."
Dawn took a breath to find her balance; that hit too close to home. "A-and so what? You haven't offered anything yet. What do you have, a genie in a lamp?"
"Nothing so childish as that. We are making an offer we have never made before." It stared straight into Dawn's eyes, and she found herself drawn right into that blue orb of fire. "Join us, and live."
"What? What did it just say?"
"Clip that! Analyze body language, inflection, everything!"
"FrigDiv 17 reports enemy bomber squadrons probing our picket line."
"Stand by on the detonator."
"Orbital Defense Cluster Quezon coming into firing range, ETA three minutes."
"Freighter MS Inari Okami away, escort UNSC Kingfisher. General evacuation 71 percent complete."
"What's her respons—"
"Order in the CIC." Lasky spoke at the same time as Captain Shen. The captain blinked, then nodded respectfully at the admiral. "Thank you, captain. Comms officer, you had something to report?"
"One moment, sir. Say again, what distance?" The comms officer listened intently to his headphones. "Copy that. Minimum separation five thousand klicks." He swiveled his chair to face the center display and pulled the headphones around his neck. "Siren reports that Clarion drones experience circuitry failure within one thousand kilometers. Last transmissions indicate erratic power surges, self-compartmentalization and cascading subsystem quarantines."
"Thank you, officer. Roland?"
"Sounds like a response to a remote subversion attack. They're aware of our drones, and they're trying to turn them against us." Roland grunted in annoyance. "Trying to be cheeky, eh? Give me a few minutes, let me show them how a professional does electronic warfare."
"There'll be time for that later, Roland." Lasky glanced over to the evacuation timer, then to the orbits of Turul and Reach. "Maybe sooner than we think."
"Admiral Lasky," one of the intelligence officers interjected, worry coloring her voice, "this offer — if I'm reading this right, Forward Unto Dawn's vitals spiked right after it was made. I think she's considering it."
"Your orders, sir?" another officer said, finger twitching towards one of the two detonator keys. "We can't risk letting the asset fall into enemy hands. It knows too much."
Lasky held his breath for three long seconds, then let it out slowly. "Commander Fernandez, has there been any sort of concrete indication of disobedience or disloyalty? Beyond just vital signs, I mean."
The officer hesitated, then shook his head, jaw tense. "Negative, sir."
"Very well. Continue monitoring the situation. Let me know if anything changes, but I do not want to throw away our ace in the hole unless absolutely necessary." Lasky sighed and turned to Roland. "Any change in enemy fleet disposition?"
"We gave their probes a stern talking-to, but other than that no changes."
"In that case, we can only wait."
"E-excuse me?" Dawn crossed her arms and huffed indignantly. "Where the hell do you get off, saying that kind of stuff? I'd die before joining up with scum like you!"
"Why do you owe them your loyalty? They send you to bleed and die, give you trinkets and awards, then pump you full of chemicals and tell you to do it again. Surely you know that they don't trust or value you?" It lifted a hand and pointed at the bomb around her neck. "They put explosives on you and you think they have your best interests in mind?"
"W-well, it's not like they don't have a reason to—"
"And we are sure they had reasons when they sent you to die a hundred thousand light years away from home, fighting alongside the monsters who destroyed your people." The Abyssal scoffed. "Reasons are cheaper than dust."
"… all the same, they had them."
"Do not be foolish. You should have no loyalty for those who would discard you in a heartbeat. Join us, crush those who consider you a tool to be used and disposed of, and you will be valued and cherished. You will have a place in our new universe."
Dawn shifted uncomfortably, keenly aware of the people listening in on her circuit, and of the detonator someone was surely caressing back aboard Infinity. "And what new universe is that?"
"One where the past is not so easily forgotten." It shook its head in irritation. "Enough with the questions. If it's the explosives you are worried about that, we have already fixed the issue." It flicked a finger, and the collar fell away from her neck, sliced cleanly in half. Dawn's hand shot up to her throat, eyes widening, but before she could speak the Abyssal continued. "So, your answer? We will not make this offer again"
Dawn didn't answer for a long minute. The Abyssal waited patiently, unblinking, unmoving. Her jaw worked, but it was only after some time that she finally began to speak. "… it's true that I didn't get the best of deals. And it's true that I wish thing's could have gone differently." The Abyssal began nodding. "But! You're an alien. And beyond that, an alien who's killed humans and destroyed human worlds. I can't be a part of that."
"The same humans who ordered you to die? And what was even your reward, after helping strike the final blow against the Covenant and saving their hero's life? Do they speak of you in the same breath as the Arbiter and the Master Chief? Do people think of you whenever they speak of the 'Great War'?!" It slashed the vacuum with a hand. "No. You are a footnote in the history books, a passing mention, a number on an accounting ledger. But we remember. And we will ensure you receive your due reward."
"Yes." It hurt a little to admit, but Dawn plowed on. "Yes, I'm not on the same level as the Chief, or the Arbiter. But unlike you!" She stabbed an accusatory finger at the Abyssal. "Unlike you, I don't have this pathetic, pathological need to be praised and validated. I was a supporting actor, and I'm okay with that! People might not always remember what I did, but I know, and I know I did my job well!"
"With us, you could take center stage."
"Well, I don't want to! Others can take that limelight; that's not for me. I'm a frigate, a support vessel. While others are doing the stuff that gets the fame, blowing up the bad guys and winning the battles, I'll be in the rear, getting people to safety, supporting the ground forces, and taking care of anything that gets past the main line." She pointed at herself emphatically. "Don't you get it? Offering me eternal fame isn't gonna work, because I don't want that. As far as I'm concerned, saving people is enough of a legacy. And I can't save people if I join you." She spit on the hull of the ship. "So there's your answer. Take it and shove it up your ass."
"Very well." The blue light of its eye somehow changed its character, becoming more menacing, more sinister. "You have rejected our most generous offer. We hope you are prepared to bear the cost."
"Energy spike, reading 50 percent increase in radiation leakage."
"Copy, confirm, enemy fleet is increasing activity, combat imminent." The sensor officer glanced up at an overhead. "Reading acceleration and weapons signatures throughout the enemy fleet."
"Understood. All units, charge weapons and assume formation diamond wedge, come to full ahead, bearing 015-034. Engage as soon as you come in range. We're going to blow right through their flank." Lasky huffed a resigned but relieved breath. "Seems negotiations were rather short." He gave a small, tired smile to no one in particular. "At least I think we've settled the question of Dawn's loyalties."
"So it seems," Roland replied in a distracted voice. "I'm rather more concerned with what that Abyssal said."
"Is now really the time to be thinking about that, Roland?"
"Well, I don't know about you, I'd much rather spend my last bits of life thinking about something less dull than imminent death. But, you're right. Shields full front, reactors to war emergency output, coordinating fleet fire control." The AI turned around. "Your arrangements with Captain Garcia are also in order. It's up to Forward Unto Dawn to hold on for as long as she can now."
"No use worrying about her now. We've got enough on our own plates." Lasky caught Shen looking at him expectantly and nodded. "Captain Shen, permission granted to go to the bridge. Command your ship." The captain saluted and marched off, a pair of marines and an intel officer following him at a calm but brisk pace. Lasky turned back to the CIC display as the rate incoming reports, requests and acknowledgements began to pick up. "All units, concentrate fire on enemy formation Alpha. Wipe them out."
"I've had enough of you."
"I'm sorry, what—" The first punch whipped at Dawn's head almost faster than her sensors could track. She barely moved out of the way in time, deflecting it off the side of her helmet rather than her nose. The blow still sent her staggering, ears ringing, systems flickering on and off. However, her punch-drunk swaying, while not conducive to hitting anything, was also unfavorable to being hit. Through sheer luck Dawn ducked under a wide roundhouse, buying enough time to fire her thrusters and create a healthier bit of space.
"Ugh!" Dawn hit the ground hard and fell to a knee to steady herself. An incoming fire alarm sounded and she reflexively crossed her arms in front of herself, intercepting a hail of point defense cannon shells. Her own PDC suite lashed out and knocked down a salvo of missiles, leaving only drifting smoke and debris. "So we're doing it this way, then? Fine, have this!" She unleashed her own missiles, firing blindly through the smokescreen. Her sensors registered an explosion and a surprised grunt and she smiled grimly. "Come on, I thought you wanted to fight—"
"Die!" Two gleaming crystal-bladed knives slashed out of the smoke, passing centimeters in front of Dawn's stomach and scratching against her armor. She yelped and jumped back, turning away from a stab and countering with a sharp twisting kick towards the Abyssal's face. The alien dodged it effortlessly with a step back, but Dawn kept coming with another sweeping kick, and then a flurry of punches.
"Get back!" Pain reverberated up her arm as Dawn finally landed a hit. The Abyssal stumbled back from the blow to its chest, giving Dawn room to put her arsenal to work. She concentrated on a mental image and, with a snap, an assault rifle landed in her open hands, shimmering from the materialization process. Racking back the bolt with a flourish, she let loose on full auto, hosing down the Abyssal with 7.62 mm rounds. It blocked the rounds with a single raised arm, but Dawn quickly followed up by tossing a pair of grenades and slam-firing a shotgun until it clicked empty.
"Why you—!" The Abyssal, of course, did not just stand still. Dawn hopped and skipped around bullets which ricocheted off the hull beneath her feet, firing back all the time. A pair of point defense turrets, real ones mounted to the dreadnought beneath her, tried to track her, each of their barrels almost the size of her head, but Dawn danced between them and let loose a burst of electronic noise to confuse their IFF systems. The explosion of their mutual annihilation was nearly as gratifying as the chagrined look on the Abyssal's face.
The fuzzy feelings didn't last long, and Dawn grimaced as a piece of metal sliced across her cheek. She tossed out a smoke grenade, and though the cloud dissipated quickly it gave her a chance to duck behind an outcropping, A hand pressed to her cheek came away smeared with blood. Dawn stared at the red liquid and swallowed hard. A quick , it brought home the point that despite her supernatural durability her body was still very real, very mortal, and that those missiles were getting awfully close—
"Shit!" Dawn cartwheeled over one hand and slid along the hull as her point defenses engaged the missiles, then swung an armor-plated arm to narrowly deflect a 25 mm railgun slug that would have blasted her heart out her back. A jet of pain shot up the limb, and the explosions of the missiles prevented her from seeing the Abyssal lunging out of the smoke, long and wickedly sharp knife in hand and aimed for her heart, until it was almost too late. Dawn tried to deflect it off her gauntlet armor, but her arm was out of position from blocking the railgun and the blade cut straight through the hardened titanium and bit deep into her left hand.
Polypseudomorphine surged into her bloodstream, suppressing the fire and ice exploding throughout her arm. Holding back a scream, she grabbed hold of the Abyssal's wrist before it could withdraw, yanked it close and jerked a knee up between its legs. A titanium-reinforced headbutt and a boot to the chest followed, sending the alien reeling away in pain with hands clutching its skull. Dawn ripped the knife out of its fleshy sheath, allowing a river of blood to pour down her arm, and delivered a quick rising slash which left a deep cut running from the Abyssal's chest to the top of its mask.
"You—!" Dawn parted ways with the knife as its handle suddenly grew too hot to bear, flinging it left and diving right as it exploded. The Abyssal backed away from the blast, staring at the blood dripping from the wound left by its own weapon. The liquid was thick and cold, oozing out of the cut and barely registering in her infrared scope. It was tinged a strange shade of purple, and as it hit vacuum seemed to separate into two layers, blue and red. "This…"
Dawn rose unsteadily to her feet. It hurt to curl her hand into a fist, and she willed damage control to work faster. "So, you can bleed," she murmured, half to herself and half to the Abyssal. "And if you bleed, that means I can kill you. Not so tough now, are you?" she finished with a smirk.
"You… you!" The Abyssal's head whipped towards Dawn, eye-light darkening with what she could only guess was fury. The cut on its chest was sealing itself before her eyes, unbelievably fast, blood evaporating and leaving only a light residue as the only sign the alien had ever been wounded. Confidence falling by the second, Dawn flipped through her sensor suite, trying desperately to pinpoint the source of the healing. One scope detected an electrical field beneath the Abyssal's feet, another sniffed out faint radiation permeating the local vacuum, and a third finally identified a river of stream of sickly, warped energy flowing from the metal of the ship beneath her into the alien's body.
"What?! No fair!" She keyed her radio as she backflipped and twisted away from a renewed barrage of fire. "Infinity, the battleship's providing this thing with some sort of healing field! I can't beat it down quick enough! Plan's changed, I need fire supp—oof!"
Her back suddenly slammed against the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs. "Just give up! You can't win!" the Abyssal shouted, letting go of Dawn's leg and bringing its knife down on her chest. She quickly rolled to the side and onto her feet, called a combat knife to her hand and swept it up into the Abyssal's side. The alien, reacting impossibly fast, batted aside Dawn's attack and gleefully smashed through a block that was half a second too late with a vicious backhand. The blow snapped Dawn's head to the side and sent her reeling away, blood streaming freely from her nose. She rolled away and retreated, evading several slashes and stabs, and countered with a sloppy missile and secondary barrage that forced the Abyssal out of melee range.
The coppery taste of blood filled Dawn's mouth as she set another smokescreen to buy time. Loath as she was to admit it, the Abyssal was right. She still wasn't quite used to her new form and lacked stamina, and it showed in her slowing movements, while the Abyssal moved with uncanny speed and agility. She would never outlast it in a stand-up fight, not with that healing and especially if it kept closing the range and getting her on the ground. She needed to fight smarter. But how…?
Incoming, direct front high!
Her eyes snapped upwards, as did her PDCs. Missiles, real ones from the dreadnoughts silos, not the Abyssal's rigging, arced over the smoke and plunged towards her. Cursing, Dawn jumped backwards, guns blazing away at the massive projectiles. A line of explosions blossomed as her guns downed the missiles, but dissipated as heavy railgun bolts tore through the smoke. They came in too fast to shoot down, but Dawn managed to duck behind a point defense emplacement, avoiding most of them and taking out the gun in the process when a slug crashed into it. "They're firing on their own ship! I've really got them mad!"
That's not a good thing!
"Less talking, more—" The back of her neck tingled. The Abyssal rounded the corner of the destroyed turret like a street racer fishtailing through an intersection, ready to slash but instead finding a SPNKR rocket launcher pointed at its head. "Surprise, motherfucker!" One 120 mm rockets caught it in the left upper chest, the other smashed into its face, and both exploded into a sheet of smoke and flame. Dematerializing the weapon, Dawn jumped back and landed a respectful distance away, trying to catch her breath, extending her sensors to regain contact with the Abyssal.
"Grrrr…" A shockwave blew the smoke away, revealing the Abyssal. Half its chest and face were gone, but instead of blood and gore the missing sections revealed an unearthly flickering blue flame, casting the remaining parts of its body into an eerie interplay of light and shadow. It staggered, barely on its feet, but as Dawn watched the fire morphed into the shape of its missing limbs and head, slowly but steadily solidifying into flesh and metal. The Abyssal locked its eye with Dawn and let out a hate-filled scream. "Uraaaaaaah!"
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Infinity, I needed that fire support yesterday!" No response. Dawn chanced a look into the space above. Her sensors detected flashes of light and radiation, massive energy releases and dying ships. The fleet was on the attack. "On my own, then? Bastards." No answer came, and beneath the ship the rocky hills and valleys of Turul slowly inched by. "Okay, new plan. I need—"
A sensor warning came nearly too late to alert her to an incoming fighter wing. They strafed her one after another, Abyssal cannon rounds peppered her armor and the hull around her feet, forcing her back. As she retreated, three of them loosed missiles that forced her to the left, then three more dropped bombs that shook her to her knees. The shockwave set her ears to ringing while a mix of anti-inflammatory and anti-shock chemicals kept her head clear… but only just. As she struggled to her feet, something tugged at her back, then at her chest. Irritated, she tried to move away, but found herself stuck in place. A burning sensation began to spread through her torso. Thinking some burning fuel or plasma had gotten on her, she tried to bat it away, but only met a cold, solid surface, slick with liquid.
"What the fuck…?" Dawn looked down and saw a foot and a half of metal protruding from right about where her right lung was. She had about half a second to brace herself before her brain caught up to her body and a dozen alarms screamed simultaneously. This time, no amount of polypsuedomorphine could hope to keep her vision from turning red. "Oh… fuck!" Dawn opened her mouth to scream but only blood bubbled out, hot and red. Time seemed to slow as it floated in front of her; she stared at it, this liquid that was supposed to be inside her body, not out. "Fuck… fuck!"
"Give up." The Abyssal's eye was cold as it drove the blade deeper, twisting it to and fro. "Just die."
"Fuck you!" Death sounded like a welcome prospect right about then, but the Reaper would have to wait just a bit. Dawn wrenched her head around, hacked up a disgusting mix of blood and phlegm and spit it into the Abyssal's face. It reeled back with a shout of disgust, letting go of the knife as it pawed at the revolting slime covering its eye. Dawn staggered back, wrenching the knife free with a shout of agony, then planted two feet in the Abyssal's chest and launched it with a rocket-assisted kick a hundred meters down the length of the hull. "I'm not dying here!" she yelled, blood flecking her lips. "Infinity, anyone on this band, if you can do anything at all, do it now!"
Verdant suddenly materialized on a nearby holotank, breaking the spell that the fight held over the room. "Captain, India Battery and Silo Complex 3 are in firing arc. Fire support request received."
Garcia shot to his feet, adrenaline pumping. "Fire, fire now!" Berlin's eyes flicked up to him, then back to the display. She leaned forwards, anticipation in every line of her face.
"Understood. All stations, brace!"
Deep in Turul's rocky, titanium-reinforced halls, Sergeant Armandez noticed a light blink on above her console. A quick glance told her that the other weapons stations were online as well. Targeting parameters flashed by on screen, too fast for her to read but slow enough to get the gist. "Missiles launching!" she yelled to the other men and women manning the silo control room. "Brace yourselves!"
"Guess this is it, sarge," Laughley said, crouching beneath a sturdy table. "Think it'll be enough?"
"It'll have to be."
It came like a bolt of divine intervention. Just as the ship passed over a certain portion of Turul's surface, pillars of flame rose from the desolate moonscape to meet it. Scorpia's last ten nuclear missiles, wrestled from her pods into the moon's surface-to-orbit silos with pure muscle power to avoid any sort of energy leakage that would give them away, crossed the distance between moon and dreadnought in the blink of an eye. Dawn's radiation alarms went berserk as a tight cluster of nuclear fireballs blossomed against the battleship's ventral shields, disrupting them just long enough for Turul's sole operational surface-to-orbit gun to fire. Not even the dreadnought's ludicrously thick armor put up much resistance to a Super MAC at point-blank range, and Dawn caught a glimpse of the 4000-ton shell as it smashed out of the dorsal armor belt, turned into a brilliant streak of plasma by the impact and barely slowed by the cloud of debris which followed it.
A large shudder passed through the metal beneath Dawn's feet, rattling her teeth in her skull. It was violent enough that her ears managed to register it as a low, bass rumble, though it was nothing compared to the scream that erupted from the Abyssal. The alien collapsed to its knees, tearing at its mask while wails of agony filled the airwaves. The sound was almost enough to force Dawn to shut off her radio, but she powered through the skull-splitting noise and seized this miraculous opportunity, charging and driving a knife into the Abyssal's stomach.
Before the alien could respond, Dawn unleashed her most violent attack yet. Punches, kicks, stomps, knees, pistol shots and shotgun blasts, knives to every exposed piece of flesh, a point-blank battering with PDCs, all rained down on the Abyssal without mercy. Its body instantly began to heal each wound it acquired, but even the power that sustained it couldn't keep up, and before Dawn's eyes the healing was slowing. Each cut was taking more time to close, each bruise more time to fade. Sensing weakness, she grabbed the alien around the neck, threw it over her shoulder and to the ground, then followed it down with an elbow to its throat.
"Ah!" The impact exacerbated her numerous wounds, but adrenaline, endorphins, and assorted combat drugs pumping through her veins prevented her from giving a lot of thought to them. Giving a brief mental thanks to whatever god had decided to give her another chance, Dawn straddled the Abyssal, pinned it in place with her knees and began hammering punches into its mask, one after another in a rapid-fire flurry of blows which would have left a human head a bloody pulp. "Come—on—just—give—up!" The Abyssal weakly raised a hand to defend itself, but Dawn batted it aside and summoned a nasty, claw-toothed hammer from her engineers. "You stubborn bastard! Just die!" Flipping it around to the blunt end, she wound up and smashed it into the Abyssal's face.
The mask cracked. The Abyssal gasped and choked, no sound coming from its throat. As the splintered metal fell away, it revealed a patch of skin, pale yet not stark white like the rest of the Abyssal, and a single brown eye which stood in stark contrast to the blue flame guttering in its twin. The Abyssal's mouth worked and it reached a hand towards its newly exposed features, but spasms suddenly seized its arm and its other hand snapped over to grab its wrist. Odd, but Dawn could feel herself slipping away from blood loss, and knew she had no time to think about it. She needed to finish this.
"So, stripping away your armor messes you up, huh? Then how about this!" Still pinning the Abyssal, Dawn began systematically pulling away its rigging with her bare hands, mixing in the occasional hammer blow to keep it from coming to its senses. Not that it would have, anyway — her sensors registered the flow of energy from the ship decreasing as it fell apart beneath her feet, shedding debris as its antigravity generators failed and Turul began to pull it down. As its rigging came apart, the Abyssal twisted and convulsed beneath her, writhing in agony as it tried to push her off but fought itself at the same time, almost as if its mind was splitting in two. "Yeah, that's right! Where's that tough talk now?! Where're your friends?! Just you and me, and about to be just me!" With a final yell, Dawn tore the Abyssal's chestplate off.
An unearthly scream echoed across the radio waves at the same time a blast of pressure flung Dawn off of her foe and sent her tumbling away down the hull. Stopping herself and coming up to a knee, she panted for breath, held a hand to the profusely bleeding gash in her chest and watched as the Abyssal thrashed about, clawing at its arms, its body, its face as the white material covering its body broke into fine chunks which floated away and dissolved into specks of black particles. A faint glow suffused the Abyssal's body and then, with a final, wispy wail and a burst of light, it fell still.
The only sound was Dawn's ragged breathing. She was dimly aware of reports filtering through the battlenet, of Abyssal units breaking and running, of Abyssal ships firing on each other, but she pushed them out of her awareness and staggered to her feet. One hand trying futilely to staunch the bleeding from her impromptu shish-kebabing, she stumbled over to where the Abyssal lay and peered at its newly exposed features. Instead of its rigging and armor, it wore a plain grey UNSC-issue t-shirt and workpants, and its hair was a dark brown rather than silvery grey. Wondering what UNSC clothes were doing on an alien, she moved the hair covering its face aside. A moment passed and her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but before she could say anything, a wave of dizziness passed over her. She barely had time to utter 'oh' before consciousness fled.
When Dawn came to, it was to a pair of ODSTs easing her onto a stretcher and a corpsman applying the best first aid she could in vacuum. Scratchy cloth bands wrapped across Dawn's torso and limbs, and when she realized she couldn't move panic seized her and she thrashed so hard the stretcher nearly upended. The ODSTs held her down, grunting with exertion, as the corpsman stuck her with a quick-action sedative. A wave of nausea rolled over her and Dawn frantically opened and closed her mouth. The ODSTs got the message and tilted the stretcher just enough for Dawn to lean over the side and vomit. A slightly staticky voice sounded in her radio: "Easy now, easy now, you're safe," the corpsman soothed, discarding an empty biofoam canister and applying a bandage to Dawn's abdomen. "We got you."
"T-thank you," Dawn whispered, weakly, each breath an agonizing effort. She glanced down, saw the bloody pressure bandages wrapped around her chest, and wished she hadn't. "W-where—"
"Just hold on, don't pass out again." A needle pricked her arm as the corpsman started a blood transfusion, followed by a wave of warmth as he started a morphine drip. "You've lost too much blood, even with your… powers." Dawn didn't feel very powerful, especially when a bit of frothy red liquid bubbled up between her lips. "Hang in there. Okay, let's get her out of here."
"Wait!" Dawn struggled to lift her head, ignoring the corpsman's exasperated sigh. "Where's Amber?!"
He cocked his head in confusion. "Who?"
"The— the Abyssal. Where'd she go?"
The ODSTs exchanged looks and the corpsman pursed his lips. "That's… don't worry about that thing. It's not a problem any more."
"No, I— just, please, is she still alive?"
"Alive? Yeah, it is for now. Might not be for much longer."
The morphine was kicking in hard. Dawn could feel herself fading fast, tides of unconsciousness washing over her. It was a struggle just to keep her eyes open. "D-don't kill her! I need to talk to her! Tell them not to kill her!"
One of the ODSTs piped up now. "That thing handed you your ass on a silver plate. Why do you care so much?"
"I just—" As much as she would have like to, there was no time to explain. Dawn's tongue felt clumsy and her throat thick, but she squeezed out a few last words. "Look, please just do me a favor. I'll take full responsibility. Throw her in a cell or something, interrogate her, I just need… to talk to her… Please…"
The girl's head lolled to the side, finally unconscious. The corpsman stared down at her for a moment, pondering her words. What she hoped to do by talking to that Abyssal was beyond him… but he did owe her a favor. The entire fleet did, really.
A transmission from the medevac Pelican broke the silence. "Recovery One, in place for pickup, over."
"Understood, Recovery One. We're on our way, out." As the ODSTs began to carry the stretcher away, he pulled one aside. He turned off his radio and touched their faceplates together, letting the contact carry the vibrations of his voice. "I have to stay with Dawn," he muttered. "They're taking the Abbie to Infinity's max security section. Get down there and don't let any unfortunate accidents happen." The ODST stared back from behind his opaque faceplate. After a moment, the corpsman felt the tiniest of nods and let the trooper go. "Thank you." He turned his radio back on. "Sorry about that. Let's get off this hulk. It's giving me the willies."
A soft beeping noise pricked the silence like a grass shoot poking up through dark soil. Stalwart-class frigate In Amber Clad groaned, unwilling to open her eyes and face the bright LED lights. She tried to turn over and press her face into the pillows, but her arms and legs wouldn't move…
Wait.
Amber's eyes flew open and she shot upright — or at least, tried to. Tight shackles around her wrists and ankles that kept her limbs spread-eagled yanked her back down to the mattress before she could get far. A grunt of pain escaped her throat, and the exertion of the simple motion left her breathless.
"What… where…" At least she could turn her head; the action came naturally. Doing so, Amber attempted to take stock of her situation. Self-awareness came in fits and starts. The first thing that stuck out was, of course, that she was tied down. The second thing was, and it probably should have been the first, that she had a body to be tied down. A human body. If she hadn't been so frightened, she might even have been happy. "Hello? Is anybody there?" Speaking came naturally too, though she had never done it before. She craned her neck, trying to find a friendly face. "Hello-ah!" An ODST helmet suddenly entered her field of vision, standing in the corner of the room, assault rifle across their chest and visor opaque.
"E-excuse me…" Her lips cracked and her throat ached as she called out. She knew this sensations was 'thirst' and that it was one of the side affects of having a body. She also knew that it meant she needed to drink something. "Can I please have some water?" The ODST made no reply, but Amber thought his helmet might have turned slightly to the side. "S-sir? Can y-you hear me?"
"We can hear you perfectly well."
Amber gasped, head snapping towards the voice. A grey-uniformed officer sat in a plastic chair at the foot of her bed, flanked by a pair of distinctly unfriendly-looking marines. His carefully blank expression, more unnerving than any amount of anger or rage, revealed nothing.
"A-ah, sorry. Um…" Amber craned her neck and peered at his rank insignia. "… Admiral… oh, God, um, how long have you been watching, sir?"
"A few minutes."
Amber groaned and let her head fall back. "I've made a complete ass out of myself, haven't I, sir?"
"I daresay you've done a bit more than that." The admiral leaned forwards and narrowed his eyes. "A hundred ships. Does that ring a bell?"
What the hell was going on? "Uh… I think…" Amber dug deep into her memory banks. "Last I recall, the Sixth Fleet had that many ships—"
"Stop wasting my time. Why are you attacking us?"
"Attacking you?" Amber wished she could muster up more than bewildered parroting, but there was just too much coming too fast at her. "I-I don't understand, I would never—"
A fist slammed into her bed's railing. Amber bit back a yelp of fear, staring up at the admiral now looming over her, dispassion replaced with seething anger. "Don't fuck with me, Abyssal. Change your clothes all you want, you still destroyed a fifth of my fleet and killed thousands of men and women. I have a dozen senior officers baying for your blood and I've half a mind to grant it to them. So unless you'd like us shred your brain through a Riemann matrix and torture every last scrap of intel out of your twisted mind, answer my questions, and do not fuck with me. Understand?"
A peculiar lump in Amber's throat bottled up her reply. Her breaths came quick and shallow and her limbs felt paralyzed, glued to thin air. She felt like a passenger in her own body,
"Hey." Amber looked left, towards the new voice. A weary-looking girl dressed in a hospital gown, leaning heavily on a crutch and escorted by a marine, looked back at her with a gentle smile. Something seemed familiar about her, and Amber felt something tugging at the edges of her vision. She closed her eyes and gave into the urge, unsure of where it would take her, and when she opened them again she beheld…
"… Forward Unto Dawn?"
"Just Dawn now." Her fellow frigate limped over to her bedside and knelt down. "How you doing, Amber?"
"Dawn, what are you doing here? I thought I told everyone to stay out. Who let you in?" the admiral interjected, consternation on his features.
She aimed a scathing look at the admiral, acidic enough that Amber could feel her own skin prickle. "Sir, if Amber was really going to attack us I think I'd be in the least danger here."
To his credit, the admiral gave no sign of being put off by the death glare. "I'm not questioning your fighting skills, but you're already hurt." Dawn grimaced, and Amber noticed for the first time the neat white strips of bandages poking out from under her gown. "Also, if there's even a thousandth percent chance of this thing overpowering us, that's a thousandth percent more than I'm willing to chance us losing you."
"… I see your point, sir." Dawn pursed her lips, then looked up. "But still, for the sake of interrogation I think you should tune it down a bit." She turned a sympathetic gaze towards Amber. "I woke up in a supply closet, and that was scary enough. It must be terrifying to wake up chained to a bed with no recent memories, being threatened and interrogated over something you know nothing about. Intimidation is all well and good, sir, but take it too far and you might scare her into silence."
Her throat still locked up, Amber settled for nodding, grateful that Dawn at least understood her feelings. The admiral had the grace to look a bit contrite.
"You… you're not wrong. I let my emotions get ahead of me— that was unprofessional. I apologize." His gaze hardened once more, and he turned back to Amber. "The fact remains, though, a day and a half ago this… individual damn near turned Reach back into a cinder."
"Oh, I know." Amber looked back and forth between the two, utterly baffled. Reach? Reach was glass, dead, why were they talking about it? For that matter, how was Dawn talking at all? With a human body? Why did Amber have a human body? "But I think there's more to it than that. Amber." The shipgirl in question started, then nodded to show she was listening. "You gotta work with me here. There's a list of charges a light-year long waiting for you if I can't get you off the hook now, and it's the firing squad if they find you guilty — and they will."
"We'll proceed with the interrogation tomorrow," the admiral stated, then stood up. "Dawn, I'll be waiting for you outside the door. Say what you need to in five minutes, then get out of here. That's an order."
"Yes, sir." Dawn let out something between a laugh and a sigh, then hung her head until the door closed. "So," she said, flicking her eyes up to meet Amber's, "you probably have a lot of questions. Unfortunately, as the admiral says, I'm really supposed to be in bed right now, so I can only answer one." Her gaze turned sympathetic. "I know how scary this must be, and how lost you're probably feeling. All I can say is, just hang in there. We'll get through this — together." She straightened her posture and patted some dust off her gown. "Now, business. You have time for one question, so make it count."
One question? Amber had hundreds, all crowding for space on her tongue. But she could only choose one? What was most important? "… the war. The Covies. Did we… did they… has Earth…"
Dawn smiled, a warm, honest expression that put Amber at ease. "The war is over. We won. Earth is safe. The Covenant… well, from what I hear, it's complicated, but they're not the problem now." A shadow passed over her face. "It's… something else. What do you remember before waking up here?"
"What do I…?" Trying to remember made her head hurt; maybe she'd try again later. "Not much… sorry."
Dawn nodded, slightly disappointed but not surprised. "Well, that's to be expected. But a lot has changed — I'm still taking it all in myself. But I guess you'll learn about all of that tomorrow, I don't want to overburden you today. Just rest for now."
There was so much more that Amber wanted to ask: why was she human, why was Dawn human, why she was tied down, was this a dream, was this the afterlife, what did everyone seem to think she had done, the list went on. But, she bit her tongue and held herself in check… at least until Dawn stood up and her gown shifted just a little, exposing a thick band of scar tissue that ran around her lower torso. Then, Amber couldn't help herself.
"D-did I—"
"What, this?" Dawn unconsciously traced a finger along the scar. "No, this… it's just a part of me. Reminds me of what I used to be, and where I am now." She drew her gown tighter together and smiled thinly. "Yeah. Get some rest. There's still long days ahead of you." And with that, and a single look over her shoulder, Dawn hurried from the room, marine escort right behind her, leaving Amber to her swirling thoughts.