A/N: Sorry about the second update, but I only put the half-finished product up. Ehehe…silly me. Turns out, I had saved two files and, well, you know the rest.

Warrior of Virtue: Always a man of few words.

Grubby: Thanks for letting me know. Glad you're enjoying.

eliteElite: Well, Charlie Company's now in its sixth year of revision and…I can't even count how many rewrites.

WillTheWatcher: Of course! He's a marine with new toys to play with.

Jake11: You're thinking about this from a historical and American point of view, being raised with the views that we, as Americans as a whole, have. Just imagine, however, if you had been raised in a country where the belief was that the Jews were totally at blame for the shoddy condition of your country. Would that not make you angry? I'm not saying all Nazis were brainwashed, and I know it's not an excuse; it's just looking through the other side of the glass.

The Marines of Charlie Company

Book II

Aftermath

Chapter Eight

M.I.A

September 14, 25520900 Hours, Local Time

"Three hours, David." Owen said impatiently as he stood beside the Marine that he'd known for about that span of time. "Three hours and not even a scratch."

He was, of course, referring to the door that would lead the combined forces down inside the Covenant compound that had, so far, taken everything they could think of and then some. Even David's patience was wearing thin as the crews tried to come up with something else. He tapped his booted foot against the ground, creating small puffs of dust with each impact of his booted foot. His eyes gazed over the lush landscape, then back to the Covenant compound that had proved to be quite a challenge, then back up to the skies; he was watching for a flight of Banshees that he'd sent out on patrol nearly forty five minutes ago. Surely they would have been back by now…or at least sent some sort of message back to the Fury. Nothing had come past the communications crew (he was sure because he checked every five minutes), and not a single Banshee had been sighted on the short-range sensors.

He would have much preferred to go long-range, but with the possibility of CCS-class Capital Ships in the area that didn't seem like a particularly good idea. David was getting more worried by the minute and worst case scenarios began to scroll through his head like a never-ending series of really bad dreams. What if the Covenant had discovered her recon flight and shot them down? Could they have taken her captive? Then, there was always the worst of the worst case scenarios: The Flood. Installation Zero-Zero-Four was a containment and research facility for the Flood built by the Forerunner, and this installation, Zero-Zero-Seven, was more than likely built along those same lines. If that was the case, then it was a definite possibility that the Flood could be unleashed upon this ring and its inhabitants…

The memories came after that, flashing in his mind briefly, increasing in pace and intensity along with the gruesome scenes. David felt his knees begin to buckle as the gruesome voice boomed in his mind, spelling doom for his kind and for the life of the universe. Suddenly, the illusion shattered as someone nudged David and caused him to nearly jump out of his boots.

"You okay, Sarge? Hey, Sarge! Anyone home?"

David nodded slowly as he desperately fought to catch his breath, right hand clutched to his chest as though he were in pain. Sweat rolled down his brow as the strength his legs once knew returned to him. Now that he had stabilized himself, David found himself staring at a rather upset looking Lieutenant Frost. Worried probably would have been a better word, David thought, but upset could definitely have been mistaken there.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine, sir."

"Cut the 'sir' bullshit, Sarge. We both know you're in charge here. Anyway, you look like shit. Are you sure you're all right?"

This time, David paused for a brief moment and mentally checked himself over. What in the hell had just happened, anyway? Sure, he'd had flashbacks before and all of them left him a bit short of breath, but this one…there was something different about it. It seemed less of a memory and more of a premonition of what was possibly to come. Why in the world was this happening to him of all possible people? Why not someone like Master Chief or Sergeant Johnson? For most of his life, David had been a nobody. He'd been just your average Joe, G.I. Joe, Jarhead or whatever anyone called him and that didn't bother him a damn bit. The limelight never appealed to David, but the way things were going, he was going to shine in it no matter what. The thoughts lingered for another moment or two before he got back on track and nodded at Lieutenant Frost.

"I'll be fine. I'm just a little bit worried about Cassandra is all. She should have reported in by now." Owen didn't seem very convinced, but nodded and clapped David on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry, David. If Cassandra's half as tough as I've heard you are, she'll be fine. You served on Jericho Four and Reach, right?"

David nodded slowly. "My first combat op was on Jericho. That was…six or seven years ago now. I was still a kid." He paused for a second and reminisced. "Technically, I wasn't even with the Corps and was supposed to be evacuating with everyone else. My brother and I got caught there at the Tera spaceport and took up arms with the local Marines and militia. First time I ever saw a SPARTAN."

Owen's eyes widened. "You fought with a SPARTAN on Jericho?"

"Four, actually. I think they called themselves Delta Squad. He wasn't there, but Johnson was." By 'He', David meant the God of War himself; Master Chief. Whether directly or indirectly, Chief has saved David's life more times than he could imagine. Whenever news spread through the Covenant ranks of the "Demon", massive amounts of troops would be relocated to search and destroy and the rest would resume what turned into suicide charges most of the time. Needless to say, David admired the SPARTANs but he certainly did not envy them.

"What are they like? SPARTANs, I mean."

David grinned to himself. For a Helljumper, the good Lieutenant seemed to be asking a lot of questions about the soldiers they were supposed to hate the most and had an almost a childlike fascination with them, from what he could tell.

"Most of them don't talk much. Hell, they really don't have time to. As soon as they're done one place, the brass moves them somewhere else. Sometimes, I don't think those bastards even see the SPARTANs as humans. Then again, we're all tools to those guys who only care about statistics and planning, so they're really not all that different from us in that regard.

David paused.

"They're not as heartless as most people think. I've seen SPARTANs mourn over the loss of their fellows and even us Marines and ODSTs. I guess they're like family to one another, and we're like distant relatives; cousins, you could say."

Owen nodded slowly and soaked all the information in. He opened his mouth to speak again, but never did; his eye was diverted upward by the shrill whine of a Banshee engine. David glanced skyward as well and scanned the skyline; surely the CIC (Command Information Center) would inform him of any enemies in the area, so they really didn't have anything to worry about...unless CIC screwed up, in which case he and Owen would be a crater soon. Finally, the lone Banshee came into view with a thick trail of inky black smoke behind it.

"Oh no…" David said in a hushed whisper. "Owen, let's go!"

The pair took off at a dead sprint for the gravity lift, trailed by three or four other Heretics that had caught sight of the banshee. It activated as soon as everyone was on the pad and pulled the five beings aboard the Ancient Fury, where 'Takamee was waiting for them. Before David even had time to speak, 'Takamee was sprinting in the direction of the proper hangar and the others followed suit. He slapped his helmet on his head in order to avoid carrying it and the comm snapped on immediately afterward.

"Ship Master! There's a-" barked Ungarr, the ship's communications operator.

"I know about the Banshee, Ungarr! We're on our way!"

"No! There's a human ship in orbit! 'Eksa has it marked as the In Amber Clad!"

David logged that away for later and continued onward behind 'Takamee and onward to the hanger he'd labled 4C. The Banshee had made a bit of a rough landing (the skidmarks on the hangar deck proved that), and looked like it had barely made it back. Both stabilizers were marred beyond repair and bullet holes and plasma scoring scarred the hull. The pilot, an Elite named 'Enzo Malakee, appeared to just barely be alive and was surrounded by medical personnel, human and Unggoy. David slid on his knee next to the Elite.

"What happened out there, 'Enzo? Where's Cassandra? Where's the rest of the flight?"

"The…the parasite…" Enzo said in barely a whisper. "They…have her…"

September 14, 25521900 Hours, Local Time

Everything was finally in place. The scouting parties David had sent out spotted a large formation of Flood heading North toward what appeared to be an ancient Forerunner facility. It was massive, squat and scarred the surrounding landscape. The facility was built like a fortress, but exposed right out in the middle of an open field, making it easy to attack from all angles. Speed was a key factor; the quicker David and his troops could get in and out of that place, the less chance there was that any of them would be infected by the Flood. He stared at the holomap intently, marking possible trouble spots with large red circles as the strategy formulated in his head. Since the installation consisted of a series of walls, catwalks, ramps and interconnected halls and rooms, the easiest thing to do would be go in with a small squad of elite troops to avoid detection by the Flood as long as possible and leave a large force behind in reserve to cover their retreat if something went wrong or their extraction of all went right.

David would enter personally with seven handpicked crack troops, search the compound, locate Cassandra and extract her and any other captives they could find. After that, they'd extract to a predesignated extraction point and wait for the Phantoms that would be standing by. Once they were clear, the Wraiths would begin pounding the Flood David assumed would be trailing the squad and captives, until the Fury's weapons could be powered up. That would be the simple part he knew; simply take the Fury over the compound and blast it into dust particles, along with any Flood nearby, eliminating a large threat to his ship and his crew. David laughed. His ship and his crew were words he honestly believed he'd never find himself saying, but there they were. Now, though, he had a plan to roll over with his company leaders and XO.

"Takamee…I want all company COs and you in the war room ASAP. I've got a plan."

"Right away."

He cut the comm. link before 'Takamee had a chance to add in another word like David knew he would. Something was bothering David still; why would the Flood suddenly be interested in taking prisoners? There must have been some kind of greater power working behind the scenes here…something commanding and controlling the Flood here on this Halo. The images captured of the compound proved that in themselves. Instead of a disorganized mob of untamable beasts, these Flood were a unit; there were two guards patrolling the grassy plains on each side of the structure with another two waiting at the doorways. They changed shift roughly every hour or so, and each guard was armed differently; Jackhammers, A2s, MA5Bs, BR55s, Carbines, Plasma Rifles, Plasma Pistols…it seemed like these things were toting every armament under the sun. The Marine tapped his foot impatiently as he tried to figure out the only thing he hadn't put much thought into; the insertion. A Phantom would be too risky and it would blow their cover, but a ground insertion would be equally as difficult. That added to the fact that everything about this looked, felt and smelled like a trap served to increase his growing agitation with the situation.

He cursed under his breath until the chime of a door opening drug his attention away from the map; a myriad of armored Elites were filing in, each saluting the Ship Master in their own distinct way. The last one to enter was 'Takamee and then all fell silent as the Elites formed a row at attention and waited for David to speak. He eyed his troops for a few fleeting moments before enlarging the image on the holoprojector for the two dozen Elites to see.

"I've called you all here for a reason. As you may or may not know, the Flood recently attacked one of our recon flights and shot down several Banshees. Instead of turning the survivors, as they normally would, they have taken members of Cassandra's recon flight prisoner. I've been monitoring the facility closely and have decided that the only way in undetected is one man; I'm going. Any force larger than that would be detected before we even got close; I want to limit casualties as much as possible. While I'm away, 'Takamee is in charge."

David eyed the Elites in the room, looking for any disgruntled or insulted faces, but found none. He grinned softly and continued.

"I'll insert here, around two kilometers outside the facility's perimeter and work my way inside; this could be a lengthy process. Once I'm on the ground, I want total radio silence. Since the Flood retain their former memories, they could have insight on how to operate communications equipment and could pirate our frequencies. 'Tekamah, I want your officers to keep an eye on that."

The Veteran nodded.

"Now, once I've located and liberated all the captives I can, we'll begin the exfiltration. Since the facility is located in the middle of a grassland, there are four RZ points, designated Utah, Omaha, Gold and Juno. 'Muscatel will be piloting the Phantom and will relay to me the clearest of the four zones. I want the Fury's entire combat crew on alert and ready to defend from an attack as soon as this briefing is over. 'Jescazee, 'Fuzamee, have the wraith crews zero their sights in the quarter-kilometer area around the Flood facility. Once my team is past that mark, I want the artillery fire to commence to cover our retreat until 'Muscatel picks us up. After that, 'Takamee will bring the Fury into firing range of the facility and wipe it off the face of the map. Any questions?"

No one said a thing.

"All right then. 'Takamee, bring the ship up to combat alert status. Company leaders, update your platoon leaders on the situation; I want those tank crews up and going ASAP. 'Muscatel, let's go."

As the officers in the room scrambled out to give their orders, the purple clad Elite and David slowly exited and began to make their way toward the hangar. David's thoughts soon began to swirl with worst case scenarios that he really didn't feel like thinking about and tried to shut out. He didn't have time to worry about such nonsense; Cassandra was strong, he knew that, and wouldn't give up to the Flood without a fight…that also meant it was more likely she was dead if they didn't feel like putting up with any rowdy prisoners. David grit his teeth and clenched his fist as he and 'Muscatel boarded the Phantom and the pilot Elite headed forward to the cockpit. There were a couple of minutes between then and the Phantom going airborne, but David soon felt the familiar feeling of his stomach sinking as the drop ship pushed upward and the jolt of acceleration.