The Rabbit and the Wolfe
Hope you're ready for this next one, because it's going to be a doozy! The bullets will fly and the blood will flow as the UNSC continues its struggle against the surprise attack lead by Major Reilcat himself! But what will happen when allegiances are tested and emotions are pushed to the breaking point? Keep reading to find out! Don't forget to follow, favorite and most importantly, review!
Many thanks to my editor MightyMilkDuds for correcting my mistakes and offering tips on improving this chapter!
08: The Frightened and the Damned
December 3, 2561
UNSC Infinity, Unknown Location
77 Polar System
2200 hours
"Bretts, get your damn head in the game!" Tiffany shouted over the roaring staccato of rifle fire that endlessly poured through the doorway. Cursing in frustration, the specialist unclipped another frag grenade from her belt, primed it, and lobbed it through the open door. There were a few shouts of surprise from their enemies before the M9 HE-DP did what it does best: go boom. With a deceptively dull thud, the shrapnel tore through dozens of soldiers, throwing many others clear of the blast with sheer concussive force. Starr shot her a quick nod to her before he leapt into the fray. Bursts of his battle rifle echoed along the scorched and bloody corridors out with a sense of finality as he systematically finished off the more stubborn enemies.
Satisfied that she wouldn't be shot in the back, she jogged over to where their teal-armored companion was. Careful not to disturb his trancelike state, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Though he jumped at her touch, he turned towards her, giving his undivided attention.
"Yes?" He asked curiously, as if they hadn't come straight out of a firefight. Tiffany withdrew her hand slowly, as if his armor was like a warm fire she didn't want to go out. Patrick tracked its movement carefully; Oasis's specialist used body language to speak, just as much as she did words. Therefore, it came as a complete surprise when she knocked him flat on his ass, her fist seemingly outrunning its own shadow.
"Get your head out of your ass! Your needless worrying nearly got Stephen killed!" Crouching down beside him, she lowered her voice a few notches before continuing. "I know your concerned about that little alien and the rest of the crew, all trapped on this ship. But how are we supposed to save anyone if were dead? I know it sucks, but we can't save them all. This is war. War has casualties. Even those like that little Sangheili girl. The best way to save her is to kill as many of these fuckers as we can. Now get up! I need to find replacements for those frags you made me waste." Cradling her shotgun like it was a newborn baby, Tiffany stood up and went to regroup with their Fireteam leader in the next room.
"Hey, Nakamura!" He called after her, standing up. She paused and turned her head. "Thanks. I needed that."
"No problem!" She responded, lazily waving as she continued walking. "I should punch you more often! Its cathartic."
"Not for me." Bretts mumbled, massaging his jaw. Tiffany just laughed off his complaints.
The three Spartans policed the next room. Behind their visors, three pairs of eyes took in a mess hall, or what was left of it. The tables and benches were bent and broken beyond all hope of repair. The bill for this little uprising was going to be massive. Mangled bodies hung from the rafters like meaty lanterns, blood dripping from their severed limbs to wash the floor in red. Others suffered similarly grisly fates. A few were crushed by flying debris while other soldiers were impaled by machinery or cooking utensils. The third member of Oasis moved among the dead like Death's thieving little sister, looting their corpses of ammo and grenades.
Their fireteam leader cleared his throat, trying to alert the tactician to his presence, but Bretts didn't seem to her him. This was nothing new. The spartan often got lost in thought after a battle. The best thing to do was let him work through it on his own. Starr's blue and yellow battle armor seemed almost comical compared with the gunmetal grey walls that surrounded them, but somehow it just seemed to work. Only one thing seemed out of place: the shattered bodies of their fellow humans that littered the room. Not to mention the warm, sticky pool they were standing in. This isn't right, Bretts thought. They barely survived genocide at the hands of aliens. One would think that would go a long way to unifying people. Unfortunately, not everyone thought that way, which placed them into the situation they were in right now. Talk about holding a grudge. He had joined the UNSC to fight aliens and defend his home (the women who flocked to him were just a bonus), not to kill those he had fought with just a few years before. He allowed his eyes to wander over the carnage like camper looking for dry firewood after a rain shower, pausing when they fell upon what could only be described as the perfect piece of kindling.
"You alright there?" Spartan Starr asked, finally dragging him out of his state of deep thought.
"Come again, sir?" He thought he heard his leader sigh but chalked it up to his imagination.
"Looks like she really got you." Patrick just continued to massage and work the muscles in his jaw in silence. "What did you do?"
"Made her 'waste' her grenades." Starr winced reflexively. They both knew how angry she got over wasted ordinance, though they could never figure out why. Neither of them dared to ask. With that new information out in the open, their leader elected to give his fireteam members some distance, lest their disagreement pull him into the middle. The last thing he wanted to get in between his ordinance-happy specialist and whatever poor bastard was her target. With his leader gone, most likely to distance himself, he just watched the raven-haired Spartan with more than passing interest. Meanwhile, Tiffany herself was lost in the past.
Tiffany Nakamura, or Tiff to those who knew her, had a different story than most of the other SPARTAN-IV's. Growing up in an extremely affluent community, she had spent most of her childhood being coddled and spoiled. She was demanding and only associated with those she deemed 'worthy' of her time. Being an only child, her parents saw to keeping out anyone that may seek to 'corrupt' their daughter, using their influence and wealth to keep her safe. She went to the most prestigious schools, ate the rarest foods, and dressed in clothes that were worth more than a small car. Her friends were as rich and spoiled as she was, looking down on anyone poor, which, with their money, was basically everyone else. Though she led a sheltered life, she was not ignorant. She knew the Covenant were a serious and frightening threat, a sentiment not shared by her peers or her parents. They thought they were untouchable because of their wealth, even as the Covenant was carving a bloody swath through Humanity. But credit chips and bribes would not work on an alien hegemony bent upon the extinction of their entire species. Though she believed that the aliens were a threat, they were on another world, killing strangers. She was safe behind their private fleet of warships. She could live her life of luxury. What did she care if some poor soul was slain? It was probably some poor addict without a cent to his name. Who would care if he ceased to exist? She certainly wouldn't. The war couldn't touch her. Boys and cute outfits were her only concerns. Nothing else was worthy of her time. Or so she thought.
Her concerns about the Covenant quickly faded away. By then, Humanity had been struggling for its very survival for almost a decade and a half. Partly as a PR stunt and partly from pressure from other planetary governments, her world had begun taking in refugees. There was public outrage and the government responded, saying that interruptions to their daily lives would be 'minimal, at best'. Refugees were given a quick medical checkup, some supplies and then quickly herded into ghettos and left to fend for themselves. Murder and looting run rampant in these sequestered areas, and the rich mocked, beat and ridiculed them, generally made their lives a living hell. The planet's private security generally turned a blind eye to these events, with the occasional exception in extreme cases. Not a day went by that Tiffany and other rich people took to the streets for the sole purpose of tormenting those less fortunate, having escaped one hell just to land in another. Some refugees did not take it lying down, and fought back. Most of them were either bribed, killed or simply disappeared, never to be seen again. Life was particularly brutal on this inner colony, as the most cared for refugees were treated as second class citizens. Even the native homeless and poor were treated with greater respect and kindness. That was simply how it was. Too wrapped up in their own concerns, no one had time to care about some poor orphan from some backwater dump.
Tiffany's world was turned inside out when she turned sixteen. She just had an amazing birthday party, but she wanted some time alone. Dressed in an expensive white dress that probably cost more than the café she was currently eating at, she watched the world around her, relishing in her money like a jeweler would show his best wares to potential customers. Her quiet world was disturbed when a boy ambled up towards her. His face was dirty, covered in dried blood, his hair looked like it had not been washed in months and his clothes were torn, stained and looked as though they had never been cleaned. He walked with a severe limp from a broken leg that never properly healed. She could see his bones through his skin, as though the organ was but a thin sheet draped over his skeleton. Any doctor would have paled at his condition and rushed him to the nearest hospital for immediate treatment. But no one would take a refugee as a patient. He ambled up to her table, cracked lips croaking out a desperate cry. More out of fear than anything else, she threw her hot drink in his face with a scream and scrambled away from something as degenerative as this thing. The boy made no sound as the liquid burned his haggard skin. Instead, he bent down and began licking the remnants of her drink off the floor.
"Ha, look at him! Licking it off the floor like some kind of animal!" One patron jeered. There was laughter at a couple tables.
"What a disgusting creature!" A woman called out, horrified.
"This thing is loaded with diseases. Someone needs to get rid of it!" Several other patrons complained. It wasn't long before security showed up, beat the boy senseless, and threw him into a nearby alley, laughing the entire time. Tiffany quickly left, wanting to put as much distance between her and that café as she could. She went through the rest of her day numb to the world. Was that what the Covenant did to people?! He looked so…defeated. No, his body still moved but his mind was gone or something. Like nothing the we did could even faze him anymore. What could he have seen?
The black Spartan was jarred from her memory when her teammate slugged her in the shoulder. Rubbing the injury, she glared at him from behind her visor.
"The hell was that for?" she accused.
"Revenge." He answered cheekily, quite pleased with himself. Tiffany's scowl deepened, angry lines marring her smooth features. Trips down memory lane had never been sunshine and rainbows for the veteran specialist. They often left her remorseful, frustrated and generally in an unpleasant mood. This time was no different.
"Learn to give people their fucking space, Bretts." She snarled, shoving him out of the way before stomping past her fireteam leader without a word, leaving the other two to catch up. Patrick and Stephen quietly followed behind their only female member, using hand signals and gestures to cautiously communicate. Truthfully, they could have opened a private channel, but decided against it in the end. Tiffany was pissed off enough as it was. Talking behind her back would only add fuel to the fire. Eager not to die, the decided to leave well enough alone, already feeling sorry for the next poor bastards to stumble upon them. Marching down another grey titanium corridor with as much stealth as an elephant, anger surged through her system, fueling her movements. Hypocrites! All of them! You know what?! Fuck 'em! Hitting the door remote hard enough to crack the display, the door slid open with a hiss, revealing three soldiers within.
Bringing her M45 to bear, she blew a fist-sized hole through the first enemy's chest before he could even think about reaching for his weapon. Red gore, like the color of her anger, painted the wall behind him as his lifeless corpse was thrown over a table. Fuck my planet! Fuck its government! Fuck its security! The second soldier managed to launch off a few rounds from his magnum in the time it took the angry Spartan to sprint across the room and drive her fist into his chest. His screams reverberated around the small room as his ribs shattered like glass. A few desperate breaths were all she managed to pull from his battered chest before the angry Spartan snapped her neck like balsa wood, tearing the last remnants of life from her body. Fuck my teachers! Fuck my friends! The last soldier fired wildly, terrified by the fact that his friends had just been summarily butchered in front of him. The faint smell of ozone filled the air as the Spartan's shields flared, then failed as the rounds hammered away the last vestiges of her energized safety net. His submachine gun was slapped from his hands and sent clattering across the floor, sparing the rest of the room from further wanton destruction.
A heavy gauntlet clamped around his throat like a vice, damming up the slurs and insults that struggled to burst forth. He clawed at her arm in a desperate attempt to escape, but his deeds proved to be fruitless. As if pushed over some cliff by an unknown entity, Tiffany snarled behind her helmet, turning and throwing the man out of the room. He hit the wall with a heavy thud and slid to the floor. Drawing his head up as slowly as a newborn baby, his deep hazel eyes stared into the unforgiving muzzle of a M6.
"Go ahead, end it, you UNSC bitch." He said menacingly, venom dripping from every word. He may have a concussion but that would not shake his loyalty. The other two members of Fireteam Oasis stood at the end of his vision, not eager to get swept up in her rampage. Surprising them all, she crouched down, her shadow sweeping over his form like an extension of her jet-black armor.
"Either you tell me what I want to know or I take out my adolescent insecurities on your kneecaps. What do you say?" She emphasized her point by tapping on said body part with her pistol. The man paled, but never took his eyes off her visor.
"Ha! Nice try. You don't hav-" She stopped whatever his was going to say by driving a bullet right between his eyes. Standing to her full height, she addressed her teammates.
"I hope you know I wasn't actually going to torture him. That's not me."
"We know, Tiff. We know." Bretts reassured her. She couldn't help the butterflies that seemed to swell in her stomach, making her smile that stupid smile. Her team leader gave her a nod in agreement.
"Come on. Engineering isn't going to save itself." Their leader added, receiving nods from the other Spartans. In short order, Tiffany had recollected her weapons and they were once again on the path to Engineering.
"Hey Tiff, I didn't know you had balls of steel." Bretts blurted out over the TEAMCOM, rekindling an earlier conversation Tiffany had thought she buried long ago.
"Well you see Bretts," Starr shook his head good-naturedly at the antics of his team as they rounded the corner. "I don't have balls. I have ovaries, which are made of much stronger stuff. And they put your metal marbles to shame." Tiffany would fondly remember the time Bretts laughed so hard he tripped over his own two feet.
December 4, 2561
UNSC Infinity, S-deck maintenance duct system
0035 hours
Amber slid silently from the duct hatch down into the maintenance causeway, her black suit blending seamlessly with the shadows around her. Her muscles were extremely sore from crawling around in the cramped ducts for hours on end and her joints ached something fierce from banging them on the angular surfaces like organic pinballs. Stretching her muscles to relieve some of the pain, she glanced around the large space, intimidated, but her golden eyes still sparkled in awe. Big…and kinda scary. She swallowed the lump in her throat when she looked up and couldn't see the ceiling. The darkness could hold all sorts of scary things, something she knew quite well. Fear crawled up her spine like a feral creature, snapping at her consciousness like it would a piece of meat. A growl, raw and guttural, rose in her throat as she instinctively clawed at the suit that enshrouded her. The creature halted its approach, curiously eyeing the small saurian that sought to defy it. It was black as night, with dark and soulless eyes that seemed to consume anything caught within them. The creature, much like the faceless soldiers that tried to kill her and her mother, preyed upon fear, using this weakness to harm and maim anyone in their way. Amber didn't really understand what was going on, but her mother had told her to be brave in the face of fear. "Things are only scary if you let them be." Her mother would tell her whenever she came crying to the blonde Spartan.
"Do you ever get scared, mother?" Her mother would hum and nod her head, much to Amber's surprise.
"But your never scared!" Sandra would chuckle, wrapping her daughter in a hug as she nuzzled the gray, leathery skin.
"It's true that your mom is amazing. But I do get scared sometimes." Amber looked disbelievingly at her mother, like she had grown a second head.
"What do you do?" She would whisper, looking to her mother to give her an answer. Sandra would look her straight in the eyes and whisper back.
"I think of you and mommy."
Think of mother and mommy... She chanted. Mommy and mother. They will keep me safe. She continued to focus on her loving parents, even as Fear lost its passing curiosity and began to stalk the small Elite once more. But like a bubble shield would protect a soldier from bullets and grenades, Fear's advances were halted by the alien's hope that burned within. She glared at the creature, her golden irises burning like a sun. They will protect me. I am not afraid! The monster attempted to shield itself from the intense emotion with its inky black arms, but the burning courage within set its body alight. I am not afraid of you! Screaming in agony, the creature scampered away to the darker places of her mind where it could rest and recover, to resurface again. Safe once more, her intense emotions receded to a steady, gentle glow, filling her small body with warmth. I did it! I wasn't scared! Thank you, mommy! She cheered enthusiastically, throwing her arms into the air with abandon.
"Pick up the pace! The quicker we get there the more bastards we can kill!" a voice shouted over the rumbling thunder of the behemoths following in his wake. Amber's blood ran cold and she pressed herself into the darkest corner she could find. She watched in horror as a large group of soldiers stomped past her, their boots echoing loudly around the large corridor. A few looked in her general direction and she whimpered like a puppy, shrinking further into the shadows to present the smallest possible target. They looked like the people that attacked her! Suddenly she wasn't so safe inside of her suit. She wanted it off. Now. She clawed and tugged vigorously, but the six-year-old could not remove it. Busy with the suit she didn't see the mechanized armor until it was right on top of her. The tanks rumbled down the looming corridor, meters from her, their immense weight shaking her bones like maracas. Next came the jarring whomps as a pair of Mantises marched past her like six-meter soldiers, nearly lifting her off her feet with each step. Her heart beat like a drum in her ears, seemingly in time with her erratic breathing as the large death squad slowly, cumbersomely inched its way past her. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the convoy rounded the bend and disappeared from sight. Releasing a heavy sigh of relief, she took a few moments to collect her thoughts, rubbing her arms in a futile effort to comfort herself.
"Where are you mommy?" She whispered to herself, mandibles twitching nervously as she took a few trepid steps out of the shadows. "I'm scared." In the absence of her loving mothers, the ship was twisted into a vile, violent place filled with danger. Before, nestled in the warmth of her parents, the walls of the ship made her feel safe and secure. Now they felt…cold, devoid of life. Like a prison abandoned long ago, they still held the scars of the unspeakable horrors that were carried out within the walls. The shadows that stalked her as she crept along the maintenance causeway were no longer unexplored places that begged to be searched. No, their inky black mass reinforced the fact that she was utterly alone. She shivered involuntarily as her reality gradually sunk in. Turning to look up at the vent she had crawled out of, Amber let out a quiet growl as she realized her short arms couldn't quite reach the sill to pull herself back up. And even though the kill team was out of sight, she was terrified that making any noise would draw them back. Back for her. Suppressing the rising whimper in her throat, she was left with only one option: explore the causeway until she found another place to hide. Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath. Though it was no warm hug, it would have to sustain her as she cautiously slinked out from the shadows into the open tunnel.
UNSC Infinity, E-deck
0130 hours
Sandra checked the readout on her BR55 for the sixth time in the past five minutes. 36 rounds. Just like the last time. She allowed herself a quick glance to her lover who was patiently standing next to Fred as he buried his face into the internal control mechanism of a door. This was quickly and frustratingly becoming routine for the five Spartans. In an effort to stave off reinforcements, the rebel troops had disconnected almost every automatic door between them and the AI core. They had to clear the ship room by room, manually repairing every busted door to progress. It was an excruciatingly slow process and Sandra was rapidly descending into boredom. The Master Chief had rerouted them multiple times under Linda's astute directives, but no matter which way they went it was going to be an agonizing process, something Sandra was quickly becoming unhappy with.
"How much longer?" Sandra asked, mildly curious at the fact that Kelly's armor was still white after all the fighting they had just been through.
"As long as it takes." Frederic growled out, also displeased at their slow pace. Sandra snorted, amused, as he refocused on his task.
"Eyes and ears open, Blue Team." Chief commanded. Sandra couldn't be sure, but she thought she could detect undertones of frustration. They were all on edge. The chatter died down for another few minutes, silent accept for Fred's tinkering with the controls. Unlike her SPARTAN-II companions, she was not really one for long silences. Most of the time she could accept their need for quiet, as was their nature, and the battlefield was no place for idle conversation, but this was unbearably grating on her nerves.
"Why?" Sandra voiced a simple question then fell silent, waiting for one of her teammates to take the bait. Fred was too busy to be distracted by his purple companion, so he was a bust. Chief almost never engaged in idle talk while in a combat environment, so he was a longshot. Kelly fell for enough of Sandra's little taunts to know not to take the bait. The brunette knew she would pay for it later, so she gave no verbal reply. The only one left was…
"Why what?" Linda questioned, taking the bait. Sandra smiled cheekily behind her visor. Like a fly caught in a spider's web, the sniper had no idea what she was in for. Kelly clamped her hands around her precious Oathsworn in an effort to crush her spike in frustration. When we get out of here I am going to…
"Don't you think it's a bit too convenient?" Sandra proposed, giving her doubts a voice. Linda didn't say anything, but from the subtle shift in her posture, she knew she had the sniper's attention. "How organized these guys are? How accurate their intel seems to be while we're left scrambling in the dark?"
"What are you implying?" Linda retorted, not being able to hold the undercurrent of accusation from her tone.
"That we got stabbed in the back. I don't know who or why, but this level of control so quickly is too difficult to achieve from a surprise attack." Sandra paused, waiting for a response. Apparently, Linda had lost her neve to converse, as she elected not to respond, minus rolling her shoulders to ease some of tension within. Either they didn't believe her…or they did, and they were hesitant to voice their opinions for fear that they would come true. Neither of them were a good sign. She hoped to find some support in her lover, but Kelly was making a conscious effort not to meet her gaze. Her jaw dropped in disbelief.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Sandra asked aloud, fearing that her outburst had somehow broken the trust the rest of Blue Team had in her. Those fears were quickly assuaged by the olive-armored legendary leader.
"We work with the intel we have. Until we know more, we stay on mission, understood?" Chief addressed his Spartans, though his words were meant for a soldier in particularly notable purple armor. Sandra nodded, a smile growing behind her visor.
"So, you do believe me!" She cheekily pointed out. Chief pointedly ignored her, Linda rolled her eyes so fiercely her helmet followed the motions, Kelly shook with invisible laughter and Fred grunted, amused. Her need to communicate with others safely satiated for the time being, Sandra fell back into silence. She did not have to wait long as Fred finished rewiring the console a few boring minutes later. With a gentleness that one would not expect from someone such as him, Fred returned the control pad to its housing, tapping a few keys to cycle the power.
"Chief, we are live." Those few words brought back the heavy atmosphere that Sandra's light conversation had repelled. They were back on mission. Their leader's acknowledgement light flashed green once. Like a dance they had practiced hundreds of times before, the five super soldiers stacked up on both sides of the door. The panel lit up, eager to serve its human masters. With a nod, Fred hit the button marked 'open', and doors slid open with a less than quiet hiss, as damaged electronics struggled to carry out their tasks.
Shouting and heavy footfalls were heard the instant the doors opened, as the soldiers beyond were caught off guard, scrambling for safety. Brass rounds rained down on the doorway like a gold waterfall, painting the Spartans' armor in a celestial glow. As majestic as they looked, the door was an incredibly efficient bottleneck, concentrating all of the fire on their position. Linda was able to pick a few off in the sporadic lulls as their enemies were forced to reload, but these openings were quickly closed by nearby troops. Blue Team couldn't advance an inch. They would be cut down in the span of a few seconds, even with their shields at maximum strength. Chief would not even entertain the idea. They needed a new plan. They needed to adapt.
"I need options." He called out over the TEAMCOM, ignoring the pang in his chest from the uncertain fate of his blue-skinned companion. He swiftly suppressed it. There would be time to worry about that later. For now, he had to get them to the AI core. Luckily, for whatever reason, the troops weren't using the covering fire to advance. Instead, they seemed to be content on boring their way through the titanium walls with ammo alone. Slapping a fresh magazine into his assault rifle, the bark of his weapon was the only response, its rounds tearing through its target with ruthless efficiency. He growled in frustration as the fallen soldier was quickly replaced and he was forced back into cover by the return volley of lethal projectiles.
"You look like you can use some help, Chief!" His surprise was hidden by his opaque visor as he whipped around, rifle aimed at the fresh voice. The small group of soldiers raised their hands to show they meant no harm.
"Private Berty, sir. What a fucking mess." Although his visor hid his facial features, the slump in his shoulders and unsteady posture gave merit to the fact he had not slept soundly for a while, but he still seemed eager to fight. "We were on our way to Engineering when they hit us, the traitorous bastards. We got separated from the rest of our units and decided to reroute through the AI core." He looked upon the Spartans with joy, making them fidget uncomfortably under their armor. "I'm glad we did." He finished, tapping his SPNKr affectionately.
He was about to issue new orders when Sandra cut in over the TEAMCOM. "Chief, we still don't know what the hell is going on. And if I'm right…" She trailed off, subtly gesturing towards the group of soldiers. Three green acknowledgement lights winked once in rapid succession as the other members of Blue Team agreed with her assessment. He had to admit she had a point. With some reluctance, he flashed his own status light, acknowledging their concerns.
"Stay sharp." He ordered his Spartans before responding to the soldiers before him. They were weary, yes, but they seemed eager to fight. "Private, give us an opening. The rest will cover our advance." Their young, jovial faces lit up, as if it was their dream to fight alongside The Master Chief. It probably was. But they quickly nodded and assumed their positions. Crouching out of view of the enemy soldiers, Private Berty pulled the trigger on the SPNKr launcher. The foreboding whoosh of the high-velocity rocket howled like a blizzard as it raced through the doorway and detonated, throwing fire and shrapnel in every conceivable direction. The smoke hadn't even cleared before Blue Team jumped into action. The soldiers laid down suppressive fire as Linda rapidly picked off targets, allowing the other four Spartans to race across the open room, unhindered. John was the first one through the receding flames, rapidly killing those who fired upon him. His shields flared under the onslaught and he dived into cover as his assault rifle clicked empty. Slamming home a fresh magazine, he stood to engage the rebels when Fred's DMR barked in his ear. Each round hit right in the faceplate with expert precision, dropping them faster than a sack of bad potatoes. Giving his teammate a quick nod in thanks, they continued through the lingering smoke, rifles barking like a pack of angry dogs as they systematically downed one target after another.
Kelly put a softball-sized hole into the belly of an overzealous ODST, spraying the floor and surrounding metal with what remained of the red, gory paste that had once been the woman's intestines. Allowing her corpse to fall unceremoniously to the ground, she pumped another shell into the chamber, searching for her next target. It was at this moment she realized she was alone. The purple Spartan was right behind her a moment ago, pounding at her targets with a BR55. Where is Sandra?! Growling behind her visor, she dismissed any thoughts of her lover. The woman, as frustrating as she could be, was more than capable of handling herself in a firefight. Racing around a fallen scaffold, she eyed three Spartans who had John and Fred pinned behind a blown-out mainframe. They were steadily advancing, using the available cover and interspacing their fire so two never had to reload at the same time. Tactically, it was a brilliant maneuver, but it made Kelly's blood boil. The UNSC had given them so much, only to have it turned upon them. She suppressed her rage, opting to let Oathsworn do the talking for her. Though she was too far away for the shot to be lethal, that didn't mean it didn't pack one hell of a punch. The 8-gauge shell lifted the Spartan off his feet, blowing away most of his shields and throwing him into a partly-melted gun emplacement. To their credit, the remaining IV's reacted quicker than Kelly anticipated. Keeping the other members of Blue Team confined to their cover with a long bout of automatic fire from a SAW, the second augmented soldier threw a live frag her way, forcing her to vault over the nearest useable cover. It was either that or be killed in the ensuing explosion. A blur of color on the rafters above caught her attention. She followed its movements, believing that the source of the red streaks was who she hoped it was. Protect our own, little pup.
The woman above raced down the metal rafters as fast as her legs would carry her, her armored boots leaving shallow dents in the framework. Early on, she had broken away from her scout and climbed to the second level to provide her team with better fire support. The SPNKr missile had blown a large section of the floor away but she was able to clear it with a running start. From there, it was easy to pick off the few remaining souls that had not been executed by Linda, who wielded her heavy sniper rifle like an artist would a brush. The heavy bursts of the battle rifle punched through the troopers' armor, leaving their blood to drain to the floor below like a slow-moving waterfall. Well-coordinated and heavily armed. Not a good combination. Shaking her head to clear it of memories, she planted one foot on the railing and launched herself high into the air. Clearing the rubble at the height of her jump, she came down like a falcon diving for its prey. An armored, plasma sword wielding falcon. The rebel Spartans never heard her coming.
Just like in the action vids some of her fellow Spartans would occasionally watch, Kelly was rooted to the spot in what could only described as awe. She followed her love with baited breath as the shortest Spartan of Blue Team came down on the unsuspecting trio of armored soldiers, her twin red blades crackling with energy as they arced through the air. Sandra rammed them deep into the man's back, the superheated plasma piercing straight through, and he dropped like a rock as his internal organs boiled away in seconds. Using his smoldering corpse to break her fall, she rolled to her feet, swinging her swords in a wide, upward arc. The second Spartan had some sense enough to duck, pivoting off her backfoot to get a better angle on her surprise attacker. She backpedaled as quickly as she could, launching a burst of automatic fire into her advancing attacker. Sandra didn't bother dodging, it would have just slowed her down. The full metal jacket rounds hammered her shields, bathing her ostentatious purple armor in a brilliant, form-fitting golden halo. Today, luck was on Sandra's side as the frightened Spartan's assault rifle clicked empty.
"Shit!" She screamed, hastily throwing her rifle to the floor before practically ripping her sidearm from its magnetic holster. The rebel managed to get off a single round before Sandra was upon her. Bringing down her blades in a ferocious cross, she cut the woman's magnum into scrap. Like the wounds that would inevitably scar the survivors of this battle, her blades made their own mark upon this ship, marring the once seamless titanium with deep, angry gouges. Sandra's movements flowed like water, as evidence of her years of tutelage under a master swordsman. She carried the blade like it was an extension of her body, intending to finish the enemy Spartan off, faltering momentarily as her wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. The rebel began to laugh, believing she had somehow won, though it quickly morphed into a scream as she quickly realized the position she had put herself in. This purple Spartan wielded two swords. By grabbing her wrist, the woman had just sealed her own fate. With more force than necessary, Sandra plunged her other sword up into the enemy's throat, lifting the poor soldier a few inches off the ground. She looked upon her kill for little more than a second before extinguishing her weapons, allowing half ton body to crumple to the ground with a solid thud. Even though the fight was over, her muscles twitched excitedly, still high on electrical signals. Sandra took a few moments to breathe slowly in an effort to calm her rapid heartbeat.
"Hey Spartan, you in there?" One of their recently acquired Marines asked, knocking on her helmet. Blinking dumbly at the interruption, her bleary vision cleared enough to take in her surroundings. As her ears could attest, small fires crackled harmlessly, throwing the grisly scene in a soft orange light. Bodies belonging to all branches of the UNSC littered the metallic battlefield. Like a gutted carcass left to fester in the sweltering heat, it displayed its carnage for all to witness. Blood quietly continued to pool from twisted and mangled corpses, plainly ignoring those who trespassed upon its thick waters. Linda walked slowly into view, rifle clamped to her back, a fallen soldier cradled in her arms. The sniper gently laid the ODST's body on the ground beside Private Berty. Wordlessly, she placed the soldier's tags into the Private's outstretched hand. With a nod, Linda returned to the other members of Blue Team, leaving Berty alone with his thoughts. Though he had yet to say a word, Sandra easily picked up on the sadness and anger that raged within the man. She knew because she felt it too. They all did. They just had different means of expressing it.
"I'm alright, Private." Sandra said, turning back to the soldier beside her. He jumped at the sudden voice, but said nothing further, only moving to rejoin his fellow soldiers. Sandra felt she should to the same. Allowing the magnetic clamps of her armor to take hold of her beloved gifts, she unslung the battle rifle from her back and jogged over to the only remaining Spartans in the room.
"Linda?" Fred asked over Blue Team's private channel.
"Unless the attack on the Infinity displaced the entire AI core, our objective should be in the next room." Their resident sniper stated, throwing a waypoint up on their HUDs. Mercifully, this time it didn't bob up and down.
"Why was our objective not marked earlier? It would have saved us precious time." Fred retorted, mildly miffed.
"I just followed the signs." Linda shot back huffily. Kelly snickered quietly as the fact that there were painted signs on the floor pointing to important areas slowly dawned on him. Fred grunted under his breath and left to brief the other soldiers, only the slight roll of his shoulders betrayed his momentary naivety. Sandra watched him go with an amused smile, hidden safely behind her ridiculously expensive visor. John and Linda quickly left their huddle to police for weapons and ammunition. Without knowing who they were up against, more bullets never hurt. With nothing more to do before they advanced on Infinity's AI core, Sandra looked at her BR55. She was low on ammunition and none of the rebels she had seen carried one. I am going to need another weapon, she though ruefully, not liking the idea of replacing the older model. She had become rather fond of the weapon. Her lips turned upward in a smile as something brushed her shoulder. Craning her neck, she caught a glimpse of white, brightening her smile even surrounded by such devastation.
"Why hello there." Sandra said, trying to keep her voice low. They were in the middle of a battlefield after all. Not to mention the rest of their team was likely within earshot. Kelly elected not to respond verbally, instead offering a few magazines of ammunition. Smiling at the older woman's attentiveness, Sandra took the offered ammo.
"I noticed." Kelly said, subtly gesturing to the black rifle. Sandra nodded in thanks, replacing the dwindling mag with a fresh one. Now that the rush of battle had largely receded from her mind, Sandra was able to focus on other concerns. Like how her daughter was still missing on a vessel full of extremist rebels. The thought terrified her like none other. Amber was her little angel and if anything happened to her, it would completely break Sandra's will. Not only to fight, but to do anything. She would be dead inside. I can't, no, we can't lose her. Doubt and fear clawed at her mind like ravenous, deprived Jackals would claw at a cage when presented with a fresh kill from their masters.
Kelly rested her hand upon Sandra's and all that doubt and fear were washed away, just like that. It was an innocent touch, compellingly warm even through the skintight suit. Sandra let out a soft sigh as her muscles relaxed, wanting more than anything to curl into the woman's soft embrace. But now was neither the time nor place to show such sentiments, instead she relished in the chaste touch, twisting her wrist enough to squeeze her scout's hand to show how grateful she really was. "We'll find her." Kelly whispered beside her, unable to completely hide the tense and fearful nuances in her vocals.
"Breach in 60, Blue Team." Chief's steady voice ordered over the TEAMCOM. With some reluctance, Kelly let go of the shorter Spartan's hand. Giving her one last nod in support, she jogged over to the others. With a content sigh, Sandra keyed into the channel.
"Copy that, Chief." It was time to get Roland back online. With his help they might be able to turn this fight around, not to mention figure out what the hell is going on.
"Yeah! Let's turn on the lights. I'm tired of stumbling around in the god damned dark!" One of the few remaining soldiers exclaimed. Yeah, that too. Chuckling at the honesty behind his statement, Sandra stood beside the Master Chief, waiting for his countdown. Pumping his fist twice, John signaled the rest of the team to get ready. Sandra felt her muscles involuntarily tense for battle as adrenaline leaked into her bloodstream. A few precious seconds of silence passed through the soldiers, and with it a sense of understanding. They understood what needed to be done. They understood what it might take to complete that task. And they all understood that they had no clue what lay beyond that door. Chief then signaled the eight soldiers to move in. Blue Team was on the move again.
Come Back Next Time!
So sorry this took me so long! Damn, has it really been over three months?! Totally my fault! School had me in a Spartan hug and wouldn't let me go! But now that it's finally over, I can hopefully give you guys and gals chapters quicker, but still have good quality. But don't take my promise to heart, things may come up. Wow, it has been almost a year and I am only 8 chapters in. The first arc of RW, by this time I was nearing the end of the story…oh well. Have no fear though, I won't stop till this series is done (even if it takes me a few years)! I hope you are pleased with this newest chapter. Be sure to favorite, follow and don't be shy about leaving reviews! I love hearing from everyone. Once again, big shout out to my editor, MightyMIlkDuds for his excellent work! Till next time, Halo fans!
