The Rabbit and the Wolfe
And the wait is FINALLY OVER! I had a MASSIVE case of writer's block I could not get past for the longest time. I also got an editor, who has been doing a wonderful job so far correcting my mistakes and making sure I was giving you guys and gals the best. So, sit back, relax and enjoy the newest chapter of the Rabbit and the Wolfe: Crimson Legacy! Please don't forget to favorite, follow and review!
BIG shout out to MightyMilkDuds for being my second set of eyes and ears on this chapter! He did a wonderful job of proofreading my work! So, show him some love and give him a cookie!
07: Bright as Blood
December 3, 2561
Debris field surrounding UNSC Infinity
77 Polar System
1400 hours
"Holy…" Sandra muttered as she stared out, horrified, at the tortured, gut-twisting sight before her. Twisted, mangled chunks of titanium floated aimlessly in the void like lost souls locked in limbo. A few dozen vehicles bounced lightly around their metal playpen like ping pong balls, powered only by inertia. But among the forest of metal, lay its inhabitants, left at the mercy of Mother Nature. For all of her charms, her beauty, she can be a cruel bitch. She dug her icy talons into these unlucky souls, freezing bone and tissue, smiling wickedly as her victims strained to breathe. She relished in their suffering, tenderly kissing those who refused to succumb to her frigid embrace, sucking out the last of their oxygen, like the vacuum that surrounded them. From there it was only a matter of time until her friend Death took them under his tattered wing.
She knew Death well. While they had met on many occasions, and had seen him collect many of her friends, he had never laid a bony, chilling finger upon her. But the gaping hole in the side of the Infinity brought many faces to the surface she would have rather left buried. This ship had become her home. The people inside; her family. Someone had attacked her family, her daughter. This sudden realization brought with in a wave of nausea that nearly knocked her off her feet. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach by a Brute. Oh god, Amber. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she imagined coming upon her daughter's broken body, each one worse than the last. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head violently to banish the terrifying images. If those bastards hurt one hair on her head…metaphorically speaking. I'll- Sandra was ripped from her building rage as someone shook her fiercely. Blinking a few times, her tunnel vision cleared enough to see Kelly before her, worry written clearly on her features.
"Sandra." She spoke calmly, but Sandra could tell her scout was frightened. And angry. Sandra closed her eyes, breathing through her nose, trying to refocus. Mother or not, it would do them little good to search such a massive ship with no idea what was going on. Kelly kept her pup at arm's length, keen senses picking up that they were not alone. She knew that Halsey was no doubt curious of her behavior, but she could really use a hug right now, god damn it! Once the Infinity was clear of hostiles and Amber was safe, then she would find a dark corner where she could shower her love with affection, thanking the woman for all the wonderful work she had done.
"Yea. I'm," The blonde swallowed thickly, stamping out any thoughts which might become a distraction. "…I'm good." Kelly gave her a stiff nod and returned to her position. They launched out of the relative safety of the pelican, the blue glow of their thrusters mimicking stars moving across the night sky. And whomever was watching would hopefully believe the ruse long enough for them to board. Chief and the others were already onboard and waiting, their landing zone marked with that annoying little bobbing waypoint. It was beautiful, the way they swam through the churning debris, much like a penguin glides along the ice. The hole loomed before them like a gaping maw, ready to swallow them whole with its sharp, jagged teeth. Crossing the threshold, it looked like a pack of hyenas had descended upon the wounded vessel, ripping its titanium skin from its bones and gorging themselves on the bits of flesh within. That hole has to be 10, 15 decks tall, and at least a dozen decks deep. Not 30 seconds later, the three women touched down onto one of the torn decks, their boots muffled by the vacuum surrounding them.
"Ma'am, how much air do you have left?" Kelly asked.
"Just over twelve minutes." Kelly clicked into the TEAMCOM and relayed the message to the others.
"There is an airlock at the end of this passage." The two Spartans unslung their weapons and made their way to their objective, careful to keep Halsey shielded between them. Their suits illuminated the path before them and they reached the air lock in no time at all.
"We're on the other side. Cycle the lock." Kelly told the rest of her team.
"Negative, Blue 4. Controls are gone. You have to cycle it from the outside." Master Chief responded. She cursed under her breath but confirmed his words nonetheless. Off to a great start already. Blue 5 had already begun to work the controls, rifle clipped to her back. With little else to do, Kelly stepped around the doctor, Oathsworn pointed down the dimly lit corridor.
UNSC Infinity, S-deck
Temporary Command Center
1440 hours
Major Reilcat drummed his fingers on a metal railing, contemplating his next move, as he looked over one of the many large armories that were strategically placed during the vessel's construction. He allowed himself a small smile, savoring the progress that his cause had made. The battle for the Infinity still raged like a fire in a field of dry brush, as proven by the pistol on his hip and an assault rifle leaning against the nearby wall, but they had won several major victories. But there were still a few major pieces missing, namely Captain Lasky, Commander Palmer and Blue Team. Their continued survival would surely be a major thorn in his side for the hours to come, but with heavy fighting for engineering and the bridge, he could not afford to divert men to deal with them. He would just have to keep an ear to the ground. Years of planning. Years. Gathering intelligence, obtaining assets, it was all for this moment. Our vision is coming together. Soon, we shall be free from these imperialistic bastards. Then, and only then, we can take back what was wrongfully taken from us and begin the real task: rebuilding. This is just a battle. It is the war we must win. It was at times like this he craved a well-aged whiskey.
"Sir," Alexander's scowl did not disappear as he regarded the soldier who had sought to bother him.
"What is it?" He asked pointedly, eager for the man to leave.
"Bravo team brought back a couple of eggheads from their most recent push." He raised an inquisitive brow, waiting for the man to continue. Bravo was one of the teams assigned to push for the reactor. If they could wrestle control of the ship from Lasky and that insufferable AI, the better off they'll be.
"They know anything that could be useful?" The soldier just shrugged his shoulders in response. Whether that meant the information the scientists knew was actually useful or if he was unsure if they had any information at all was up for debate. In truth, he did not really care either way. If they did, they may prove useful in securing the flagship. If not…well, a military vessel can be a very dangerous assignment. A few more bodies wouldn't matter.
"Find out if they know anything. Keep the ones that do. Make an example of the others." The soldier nodded, but didn't leave. Instead, he bounced around on his toes like a kid in a candy shop. The major held a level glare until the man ceased his movements. "Was there something else?" The messenger's presence was becoming irritable, but his mother had instilled some manners into him.
"Well, there's this girl…one of the scientists-" He rambled out excitedly. Alex huffed through his nose as his muscles in his face tried to form a smile once more. Youth, never really changes.
"Just keep her quiet." The marine smiled in a way any normal person would have found both revolting and nauseating. "And keep this between us. I don't need every soldier whining about 'equal rewards'."
"You won't hear a peep, sir." Throwing his commander a final salute, he turned and practically sprinted down the steps, taking two at a time. It would be rude of him to make a lady wait, wouldn't it? The soldier had just disappeared from view when his coms began to chirp loudly.
"Yes?" He answered sharply. He was getting tired of interruptions.
"Sir, Tango squad is dead." This came as no surprise. Soldiers died during war. The objective was far more important than individual lives. Commanding troops had taught him that. There would be a momentary gap in the defenses while a new Tango squad was formed and delivered to their zone of control.
"I hope you aren't bothering me with trivial problems you can solve yourself."
"No, sir. They were patrolling the sector just inside of the deck breach. The only way to get there would be to-" His mind rapidly connected the dots. Either someone evaded an entire ship's worth of fighting and patrols, or more likely…
"Looks like the eagles have come to roost." He spoke, a wicked smirk spreading on his face. Finally, some real action. "Grab some rocks. Let's see if we can shake this nest up a bit." The older marine cut the channel, scooped up his assault rifle and trotted down the stairs with a newfound purpose.
"Listen up!" He shouted, his powerful cry echoing across the armory, drawing the attention of almost everyone around him. "The legendary Master Chief and his friends have come to spoil our little uprising. But, I for one, am not going to throw my rifle at the feet of a freak who thinks himself a god!" A chorus of 'hell no' bombarded his ears, pulling his muscles into an even wider grin. "So, this is what I propose: grab your weapons, grab your gear, and let's kill those sons of bitches!" Cheers and hollers spilled from the soldiers as they rapidly collected their gear, excited at the possibility of silencing the UNSC's poster child. The young and the old. The weak and the strong. The genius and the fool. Though many years have passed, nothing can erase what you have done, Spartan-117. You took my family from me. Now? Now I will take you from yours.
"Sir?" A soldier questioned tentatively. Though he was no Ekan 'Satanee, Major Reilcat did not enjoy needless interruptions. Shaking his monologue, he turned to see almost thirty armored, focused faces staring back at him, plus a few trusted Spartans sprinkled throughout. Yes, there were other teams moving on other important objectives like the engines and AI Core, but this mission was special. It was personal.
"Make no mistake. These soldiers are no pushovers. They are veterans and will not hesitate to kill you if given the chance, you must do the same if you value your life and those beside you. Yes, they may be murderers, but there is a reason they survived the entire Covenant War. They live up to the myth of the Spartans indeed. But their service ends here!" He raised his rifle into the air as the soldiers around him roared in approval. Like a tidal wave, it swelled up, consuming all other sounds in its aquatic fury. Alexander motioned to the others to follow with a wave of his weapon and they took off in a light jog to the nearest lift, excitement in their hearts and Spartan corpses dancing in their heads. It was time to hunt.
UNSC Infinity, Location Unknown
Investigative Patrol
1730 hours
Things were not looking up for Palmer and the others. Not an hour after they left the safety of the bridge and recovered her helmet did they come under attack. Shepards went down almost instantly as an 8-gauge stripped him of all his tissues and organs, down to his spine. They had been on their way to engineering, but had to pull back when their firefight began to draw more than the small group could comfortably handle. Lasky presumed the AI Core would have less resistance, hoping that the enemy would not declare it a priority. Unfortunately for Wilkes, the route they took to get there was just as deadly, as she died from shock and massive hemorrhaging when a grenade took one of her legs. Palmer had to literally drag him away as he fruitlessly tried to save her, even as bullets sailed inches above his head. Right now, they were resting inside one of the many storage areas, recuperating from the fighting they had endured.
"Tom. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could do." Palmer said comfortingly, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He looked up from his bloodied hands for the first time in almost an hour. He flashed her a small smile in thanks, but it did not reach his eyes. He drummed a bloody finger on the crate he sat upon, his hazel eyes flickering across her cyan visor, as if searching for some sort of sign as to what to say next. His brows furrowed in concentration a few times before he shook his head, apparently giving up on his thoughts. He pulled his sidearm from its holster, examining it with great interest. Sensing this conversation was over, Palmer turned on her heel to find wherever the heck Yuma had gone off to.
"What do you think they're after?" Palmer stopped, looking back over her shoulder with a serious face.
"Power? Money? Fame? A twisted sense of justice? Something else we don't know about? I don't see how it matters right now." Lasky refused to meet her eyes for a few moments, but when he did, there was that iron-clad sense of determination he often wore.
"They are my men. I should have seen this coming. I should have done something." The Commander folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him from behind her cyan visor.
"No, Tom. Though you command this ship, their decisions were theirs and theirs alone. There was no way anyone could have seen this coming, even Roland and Aura were in the dark. And, even in spite of this insurgency, you have taken control of the situation as best you could." Her words hung in the air for a few seconds. Finally, Lasky nodded, a chuckle fluttering from his lungs. Palmer quirked an eyebrow, leaning back against a crate. "I fail to see how this is funny."
"It's not." He said, waiving away any concerns she may have had. "Just…the amount of paperwork that is going to be waiting for us after this is over." Sarah let herself relax a bit."Damn. We are going to have to vet everyone. That is going to take months."
"If we're lucky." Palmer added with a wry smile. Though he couldn't see her face, he took her jest at their poor luck good naturedly, shaking his head with a smile. A friendly silence enveloped them, with only the sporadic flickering of the lights above to prove that they were even in the room. The lack of engines was disorienting. The hum that had been a constant for the past few years, had suddenly stopped. The ship felt quiet, empty without it. And the artificial voices that had often offered advice and reassurances were silent. It was chilling. Their enemies seemed to lurk around every corner. Paranoia and hate seemed to seep into every pore of the Infinity, corrupting it from within. The ship was tearing itself apart and only their enemy seemed to understand what was going on.
"They will pay, Tom. I can promise you that." Palmer assured, seeing the turmoil play out on his face. Noting the time, she realized they had been here far too long. They had to get moving again if they were to take back their home. "We need to get to the AI Core. With Roland back up, we could have a real chance of figuring out what the hell is going on."
"Agreed." Quickly confirming that he did indeed still have ammo for his magnum, he slid off the crate, his boots hitting the deck with a dull thump. "Yuma?" He shouted into the fluctuating darkness beyond. No response, nothing. The hair on his neck stood on end as a sensation of dread crept up his spine like a lion stalking its prey. Palmer slid in front of him like and over excited shadow, a finger hovering on the trigger of her DMR. Without looing away, the Spartan motioned for them to move towards the door. Slowly, they crept across the storage deck, like it was made of glass.
"What's this? The great Commander Palmer doesn't have all of her toy soldiers? How…nauseatingly familiar." A deep voice rumbled from the dark, teeming with contempt and jealousy. Palmer cursed as her motion tracker suddenly exploded with contacts. Based on the lack of a surprise attack, they had either been followed or, more terrifying, the enemy had been lying in wait. Even in the sub-par lighting conditions, there was no mistaking the EOD-class armor and the massive M247H machine gun he was hefting with one hand. His armor was spattered with blood, tissue and what she hoped weren't bone fragments. Palmer glanced about the room, looking for an opening. The door was behind them, but they were caught in the open and that machine gun's explosive rounds would rip them apart in seconds. She couldn't see anyone besides the Spartan, but she could almost feel the warm barrels being pressed into the back of her skull. She might have made it out the door with minor injuries, but Thomas wouldn't make it but a few steps before he would be cut down. Cursing herself for her inattentiveness, slid further into the line of fire. If it came down to her life or his, she would make sure he could rally their remaining forces.
"Lucky for you, I am not so forgetful." His harsh voice brought her cyan visor to bear against the brilliant red irises of the soldier before her. They seemed to shine with glee as two more figures stepped out into the flickering light. The other soldier, a Spartan as well, shoved the crewmember into the waiting hand of their apparent leader before fading away into the shadows behind them like a morning mist. "You see captain, we had a talk with your crewmember here, but he was…unfortunately unhelpful." His hand dug into Yuma's shoulder, driving him to his knees with a cry. Palmer's finger twitched on her trigger, eager to put a bullet in this Spartan's skull. Only the lingering thoughts of placing her captain in danger stayed her hand.
"What do you want?" Lasky demanded, embers of anger singeing his words as he watched Yuma spit out blood.
"We need information. You have it. So, a trade. You for him." They need information?
"Whatever they want, don't give it to them, sir!" the crewman pleaded. Lasky ground his teeth together as they man looked into his eyes with his one good blue one. The other one was swollen shut. As much as he despised himself for it, Yuma had a point. Whatever they were after, Lasky needed to prevent the enemy from acquiring such information, no matter what the cost might mean. That didn't make the decision any easier or the consequences any less revolting. He could feel his stomach beginning to churn, his mouth drying up more each word that came out of it.
"I will not surrender any secrets of this ship or the UNSC to terrorists." The storage bay went silent for a few seconds as the Spartan seemed to digest his refusal. The next thing anyone heard was the scream that tore from Yuma's throat as a monstrous combat knife was driven up through his shoulder.
"You see," The hostile soldier spoke calmly, completely ignoring the screaming comms officer at his feet. "I was kind to offer you a deal. But since you refuse my offer, I am removing my chips from the table." He hauled the whimpering officer to his feet by the handle of the blade, the steady drip drip drip of Yuma's blood felt like watching an orbital bombardment all over again. Looking straight into the Spartan's red "eyes", Lasky felt like staring straight into hell itself. This figure before him was less a man and more a gateway to the demons who called the land of fire and brimstone their home. And like the demons of the underworld, he had a bloodlust that could not be quelled. He cruelly twisted the blade and yanked it from the officer's shoulder, coating the hyperdense alloy in the slick, red liquid which poured from the open wound. "Besides, red is a much more suitable color." Tossing the blade into the air with a flourish, the supersoldier drove it deep into Yuma's neck, smiling wickedly as the communications officer began choking on the very fluid that kept him alive. He always loved irony. With much more force than he would ever need, he ruthlessly guided the ultra-sharp high carbon steel through the supple flesh, spraying the Captain and his lapdog with red.
Yuma's corpse had not even hit the ground before a volley of 7.62x51mm FMJ-AP rounds slammed into the killer's shields, which blazed an angry gold. "Kill them!" He bellowed, diving behind a nearby crate to preserve his shields. Dozens of projectiles ripped through the darkness from all directions, like messages of death from the angels themselves. Lasky was roughly shoved to the ground, as Palmer's titanium shell intercepted the attack. He was sure to have a bruise, but that was better than a corpse. Drawing his sidearm as he was dragged away, he was happily rewarded with a pained cry as his rounds penetrated an ODST's armor. White hot lead flew in all directions as Lasky and Palmer attempted to cover their retreat. The captain's shoulder flared painfully as he was tossed behind a stack of crates like a doll, Palmer crouching beside him with a pained grunt. Slipping the last spare magazine into its housing with a satisfying click, he took a few precious seconds to give his friend a once-over.
The Commander's SCOUT-variant had seen better days. The ivory titanium plates that were always polished so thoroughly they would often temporarily blind whomever passed by, were scuffed and scored. Her chest plate looked like Luna's surface, deeply scarred and pot marked with ricochets, a testament to its valiant defense of its wearer. Her deep black undersuit was dotted with hardened biofoam, a painful reminder that although Spartans were tough, they weren't invincible. He threw her a concerned glance he way as she tossed the empty magazine to the side, but slid off her visor like a hockey puck on ice.
"On my mark, make a break for the door! I'll cover you." Palmer shouted, her words struggling to overcome the sheer amount of gunfire that bounced around the room. "Three! Two!" She held up two fingers as Lasky picked up on some banging on the other side of their cover. Only it didn't sound like bullets. Risking a glance up, he caught the glint of a knife in the artificial flickering glow.
"Above you, Commander!" Time seemed to slow as Sarah twisted to intercept the new threat. But her reaction was too sluggish as the rifle was shoved aside, followed quickly by a bloody, serrated ten-inch blade being forced through her shoulder. The two armored soldiers rolled away from the melee, their augmented limbs hunting for any mistakes they could exploit. Any hesitation, any weakness would be met with a quick and brutal end. The traitorous Spartan twisted the blade in her shoulder with vicious abandon, intent on making her death as painful as possible.
"You always were a bitch." He snarled, hovering over her. Not waiting for a response, he used his other hand to reach for a second knife on his chest. Seeing her only opportunity closing before her, she struck him across the face. Hard. Reeling sideways from the blow, she managed to free her legs from his hold, kicking off her dark blue opponent with a harsh shove to the chest. She couldn't hold in the cry of pain that leapt from her throat as the weapon was pulled from her blood-soaked shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she drew her own knife from its hold, clambering to her feet to square off with her attacker. Forcing the pain to the back of her mind, she concentrated on the two pointy objects that seemed to want nothing more than to perforate her lungs. She was definitely at a disadvantage, having only the one to defend herself with. I hope those biofoam injectors can keep up. She could vaguely tell the bullets hadn't stopped flying, in fact, the firefight seemed to have only escalated. Weather that was a good thing or not was something else entirely. As if those malicious, demonic gateways sensed her lapse in attention, he charged her, intent on extinguishing her life.
He swung at her unprotected regions, the haunting possibility that this was not the first Spartan he had killed following in the blades' wake as they cut through the air. She spun on her heel and ducked, dodging the first one entirely and watching the sparks flare up as the second one scraped across her chin. Using her momentum, she drove her own blade into his side. With a pained grunt, he lashed out with his knee, catching her in the head as she tried to shift her weight. He followed her down as she crashed to the ground, carbon steel poised to enter her vital regions. Her body reacted before her mind could grasp what was happening, grabbing his wrists and using her momentum to kick him over her head. Not wanting to give him a chance to literally stab her in the back, she rolled to her feet and rushed the blue Spartan. He was halfway to his feet when the Commander slammed into his side, sending them into a poorly stacked pile of crates. Her nerves pulsed angrily at their harsh treatment as a particularly heavy crate cracked her clavicle bone. I deserve better than this, her body screamed. Ignoring the drama queen within, she pushed it off with a grunt, eager to return to the fight.
The sound of moving metal pushed her muscles into overdrive, fear nipping at the edges of her mind. She did not want to be caught off guard. Losing focus here would most certainly mean a very slow and painful demise, something she wasn't eager to partake in. Scrambling to her feet, she turned around, only to get a few cracked ribs for her trouble as a heavy metal bar slammed into her unprotected side. Swallowing a scream, she continued the fight, hoping that her ribs wouldn't become dislodged and start puncturing organs. Then she would really be in trouble. But even with her mangled ribs, Palmer seemed to dance circles around her larger opponent. But this was not a beautiful dance, full of elegance and grace. No, this more resembled a back-alley brawl more than anything else in existence. It was grueling, brutal, and merciless.
She was breathing heavily, wincing at every inhale as her organs brushed up against her injured rib cage. Sweat was cascading from her pores like waterfalls, blurring her vision and making her skin feel slick and clammy. Or maybe that was just the injuries talking. Shaking her head to clear the encroaching darkness, she gripped the blade in her hand even tighter. She had no idea where her weapons had ended up, and was pretty sure she had a concussion, but she brushed those concerns off. She could deal with her injuries later.
"I have to admit, you fight pretty good...for a woman." He taunted, his focus on the weapon in her hand. She frowned behind her helmet and felt her skin bristle angrily. For a- The backward comment cut deep. She had worked her ass off to get this position. Someone higher up the chain of command had sought her fit to be the best candidate for the job. If he was trying to rile her up into making mistakes, he was barking up the wrong tree. She was only more determined to plunge her blade into his throat. Electing not to respond, she began to circle him once again, looking for her opening.
Irked at her silence, he lunged at her again, swinging his blades with deadly precision, despite his injuries. Blocking the strikes with her armored forearms, she brought up her knife, embedding it into his uninjured side. Growling in pain and dropping his own knives, he clamped his gauntlet around her wrist and began to beat her skull like a drum. Her head bounced around violently, not unlike a car caught up in a tornado, her helmet being the only thing saving her from a crushed skull or shattered spine. Unable to really think put a string of thoughts together with the constant beating and wailing warnings, Palmer fumbled blindly for a weapon. By sheer luck, her fingers wrapped around one of the discarded knives. Knowing she was fighting an oncoming concussion, and would only have one chance to strike, she would need a moment of clarity. Unfortunately, the only idea that came to numb mind was not the most sensible one. Hell, this isn't even sane. But what choice did she have? Die? That was not on her to-do list for today.
This is stupid. Her fingers tightened around the hilt. Last chance to back out, Palmer. Her mind warned, even as her head slammed repeatedly into the unyielding deck plate. Lasky can never know about this. I'll never live it down. Taking as deep a breath as her cracked ribs would allow, she brought the knife up into an arc. Predictably, her opponent released his hold and shifted his weight back to dodge her uncoordinated strike. The knife continued its path downward, straight into the nerve-filled flesh of her thigh. At least she wasn't brain dead enough to bring the blade straight down. That would have severed her femoral artery and she would have bled out quickly, no matter how much biofoam she sprayed into her wound. This time she couldn't hold back the scream as the serrated metal sawed straight into the muscle, only the angled placement saved her life. The pain, as excruciating as it was, pushed the desperately-needed adrenaline into her system, temporarily forcing the fuzziness from her vision.
"What the f-" He began, clearly surprised. She didn't give the courtesy to finish. Grabbing the back of his helmet, she wrenched a third blade from a sheath on his chest and drove the knife into one of the demonic portals that stared back, unblinking. This time he did scream, and boy, did the darker part of mind enjoy it immensely. His bellows of agony seemed to fade in place of the dull, insistent buzzing. She could hear nothing beyond that singular noise: not the surrounding gunfire, not the blaring warnings of her armor…nothing. If there was not some part of her mind reminding her of her long list of injuries, she would almost find it peaceful. Looking out across the bloodied deck, she could see the massive knife the Spartan had used, still covered in the blood of his victims. Rolling her head, she saw that same soldier struggling to obtain his bearings, floundering about like a fish trapped above water. It was high time she finished this fight.
She must have looked absolutely pitiful, crawling across the deck like some snail pulling itself through the muck. Eventually though, she reached her goal. Her ribs felt they were on fire and her lungs felt like they were full of lead, but she soldiered on. Summoning enough strength to pull herself up on shaky legs, Palmer wordlessly glared at the killer before her. Neither of them said anything, knowing what was coming next. Roughly shoving his chest to the floor with her boot, she drove the weapon straight through the undersuit covering his throat as she practically collapsed in exhaustion, a dark red pool spreading evenly along the seamless channels of the deck. His desperate, gurgled inhales were the last sounds he would ever utter as the life slowly faded from his eyes. His limbs went limp and Palmer finally allowed herself to relax. About time, she chided herself.
Closing her eyes, she let gravity take over and toppled from atop his lifeless body. She felt utterly exhausted and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and take a nice long nap. But alas, the universe seemed to have it out for her today, as the steady thump of a pair of boots reverberated through her throbbing head. Gritting her teeth, she vehemently cursed whomever sought to disturb her. The footsteps stopped just beside her and for a few moments, there was silence.
"Bad day, ma'am?" The voice cheekily asked, knowing full well the answer.
"Just the usual, Spartan." She responded, numbly allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She slung one arm over her purple companion, making sure to keep her weight off of her injured leg. It was slow going, but eventually they limped their way back across the storage bay, where voices could be heard much more clearly.
"I fail to see how this is a relevant topic, doctor."
"On the contrary, captain. It is directly related to the success of this mission." Lasky noticed the fifth member of Blue Team had returned, with an extra Spartan in tow and quickly dismissed the previous conversation.
"Another time, doctor." Halsey made a noise of displeasure, but said nothing further. Zeroing in on where the Commander's eyes were behind her cyan visor, he addressed her next. "How are you holding up?"
"Just peachy." She rasped out between her beaten ribs. She felt bad for lying to his face like that, but she could make it up later. They had bigger problems at the moment. Lasky frowned at the obvious deflection, but did not push the subject.
"She's blowing smoke out her ass…sir." Sandra interjected, much to the surprise of her superior and the ire of the Spartan Commander. She could feel the waves of anger radiating off the Spartan beside her, but proceeded onward regardless. "With all due respect to the Commander's skill and experience, her next stop should be a med-bay, not wherever we're going, sir." Lasky seemed to ponder the words for a few seconds as Kelly gave her purple-armored lover a subtle nod.
"Chief, you passed a med bay on your way here, correct?"
"Yes sir. Secured and staffed." He responded.
The captain wiped a streak of blood away from his head, cleaning the excess off on his pants. Taking an assault rifle from Fred's outstretched hand, he quickly checked the ammo counter before addressing his soldiers. "You wanted a sit rep, Chief? Here it is: We have no engines, weapons, coms or AI. Not to mention, lights and air come and go as we try to reboot the systems. Those we still have, at least. From what we have gathered, the fighting is spread out over the entire ship, but it is heaviest near Engineering and the AI Core, but there may be more."
Fred took this lull in the captain's update to ask a question. "What should we prioritize, sir?"
Lasky pondered the question. What to prioritize indeed. Without coms, it is going to be a major hassle to obtain any information. Obviously, this isn't a problem for our enemy. The bastards came prepared. We don't want to be caught with our pants down if they call in reinforcements. But without Roland…this fight is going to be an absolute nightmare. "Get Roland back online. If we can reestablish communications, we might not be totally screwed. Reroute any forces along the way towards Engineering. We don't want them scuttling this ship when we're all still on board."
"Understood, sir. We'll get it done." Fred acknowledged firmly.
Blue Team then escorted Lasky and the others to the med bay, slowly backtracking through blood-stained corridors, bodies littering the titanium halls like grisly wallpaper. The gory reality of progress and the only currency the gods of war and death bothered to barter with. At last, they made it to the med bay, where the Commander was passed off to the anxious medical staff, torn between keeping their distance from the irritated Spartan and their duty to help. With their most pressing objective complete, Blue Team left without another word, racing towards the AI Core to try to make up for lost time.
"I believe we have a discussion to finish, doctor." Lasky pointed out wearily once Blue Team had disappeared from sight. Removing the helmet of her vacuum suit, she addressed the Captain with a neutral expression, mouth set in a tight line.
"That we do, Captain." Halsey answered succinctly, following the Infinity's captain back inside the pristine white walls of the medical center.
Come Back Next Time!
So sorry for the long wait! So much for a chapter a month, huh? I hope the fight scene between Palmer and the other Spartan was up to par. I wasn't sure as I wrote it. With school starting up, my schedule will be even more wacked up than usual, but I will try my hardest not to have a repeat performance of the two month wait. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter and don't forget to favorite, follow and review! Next time on RW-CL: The enemies that you can see aren't the ones you should fear. It's the ones you can't.
Another hearty thanks to my proofreader MightyMilkDuds for his amazing work on this chapter and correcting my earlier mistakes!
