Chapter 3:

She could have reasoned with him. She could have talked him into lowering his weapon. She could have spoken calmly, told him who she was, explained the situation, maybe even recruited him into helping her fend off their enemies.

"Ha ha!" crowed the Red Sergeant, jabbing her in the back with his shotgun. "Did you see that, Lopez? Caught myself a dirty, dirty Blue! Caught him blue-handed, trying to get the turrets back online. I knew he was up to no good the moment I spotted him sneaking across the canyon."

"Lo que. No cuido."

"Now the epic stalemate is officially over! We couldn't attack before because the only Blue here was a girl. But now that there's a girl and a guy, all bets are off! All glory for the Red Team! Yah! Though I have to say, he's awfully… curvaceous for a fella."

"Eso es una mujer. El pelo corto no iguala al hombre."

"No congratulations necessary, Lopez, but thank you! And yes, I do deserve a medal for this brilliant takeover."

"Palma de la cara."

Kat gritted her teeth when he jabbed her again.

"What's your name and rank, Blue?" growled the Red Sergeant.

She could have reasoned with him. She should have reasoned with him. But… she was having a really, really bad day.

When she felt the muzzle of the shotgun withdraw from her back in mid-jab, she sidestepped. In one fluid motion, she turned, grabbed the barrel, and slammed it backwards into his solar plexus. The Sergeant exhaled explosively and doubled over.

"My name and rank," said Kat, "is Lieutenant Commander Catherine-B320."

"Oh, son of a bitch," wheezed the Sergeant, right before she snapped the weapon upwards so the butt caught him under the chin, knocking him unconscious.

"But you can call me Noble Two." She considered adding punk to the end of that sentence but the Covenant were inbound and every second mattered.

She turned to the robot, who took a step backwards.

"Mierda santa! Usted eliminó al sargento! Mire, señora, yo no quieren apuro…"

"Command: program identification," she barked. "Voice verification Sierra-Foxtrot-Niner."

Lopez jerked as if a jolt had gone through him and snapped to attention, though his salute seemed rather surly. "Yo soy robusteza del UNSC, número de serie LPZ-1278-5."

"Hmm…" She went down on one knee and popped open a panel somewhere below his waist. Just as she suspected, it was a mess down there.

"Qué usted hacen? Hey! Ese daños! Hands off my switch, Lady!"

"There," said Kat, shutting the panel and standing back up. "Voice unit fixed. Now, get these chainguns loaded and operational while I drag this idiot out of the way. Notify me the moment dropships are within visual range."

"Yes ma'am."

She hooked her hands under the Sergeant's elbows and dragged him into the base.

"Holy crap!" shrieked Private Grif, when Kat unceremoniously rolled him down the ramp. "Did you kill him?"

"No," said Kat. "Is there a basement here?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good. There's going to be an attack. Get yourself and the Sergeant to the basement and seal the door behind you."

While she was talking, Kat dragged the Sergeant down to the basement and checked to make sure the blast doors could be rigged to lock from the inside. Grif, who had blanched when Kat mentioned the attack, followed obediently.

"I'm commandeering your armor, Private," said Kat. "Stay here and do not, repeat, do not open the door until either I or other UNSC forces give you the all clear, understood?"

"Ok," said Grif. Her pale face peeked out from between the blast doors. "Um… do you wanna make out? For good luck?"

"No… And put some clothes on! That's an order, Private!"

The blast doors slid shut.

Moving quickly, Kat retrieved Private Grif's armor, affixed the pieces she needed to herself, and locked them down. A diagnostic appeared on her HUD and confirmed that she had a complete suit of armor. There was a satisfying hum as her shields recharged, albeit sluggishly.

A weapons check proved more disappointing: only a standard issue magnum and three spare clips. There was lipstick on the barrel, for reasons Kat decided not to think about. No grenades. No mines. The turrets could take out most infantry, but they were in trouble if the Covenant brought heavy vehicles.

She also found a canteen, but spat out the first mouthful she took. Apparently, it had been spiked with something fruity and alcoholic.

"Who the hell is running this army?" Kat muttered.

After hacking into Red Base's system, Kat found that there were no other members of Red Team in the canyon, but there was a warthog which could be controlled remotely via the robot.

There was a pulse over the COM, and Lopez's flat, robotic voice came through. "Lieutenant Commander, there's a Covenant dropship in visual range. Turrets are online."

"Alright," Kat said grimly, making her way up to the roof. She holstered the magnum and picked up the Sergeant's fallen shotgun. Above, the sleek, purple Spirit dropship was descending. Plasma turrets warmed, ready to rain down death and destruction. "Let's rock."