1600 Hours UTC, 22 September 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Sol System, Earth, UNSC Science Outpost 01A-77
Eastern Boundary Access Point, Omega Complex

Digging Deeper

The Doctor still had his body positioned firmly in the middle of the doorway. Though such an unconditioned, lanky physicality would do little to prevent or even deter two UNSC personnel from barging in, Major Wu and Chief Fontaine held fast at the threshold. The Major himself had no reason to act further; he'd been shown a reasonable amount of respect and received what was required for the 906th to carry out their orders in full. He appeared rather reserved, but nevertheless observant as they all remained at the threshold for a moment longer.

But the Chief grew suspicious. More than the recent anomalies fresh in memory, it was the Doctor's temperament which had started to rouse curiosity in the Warrant Officer. Rion remained expressionless as the civilian glanced at his instruments, twitching toward them as though they suddenly appeared into existence.

"What's that you have there?"

The civilian posed the question as if the Marine would instantly grasp the folly of his intentions—whatever they were—and turn the other way. He suddenly showed an intense interest about the portable equipment in Rion's hand, but not intense enough to attempt venturing any closer. Surely, the Doctor's time and patience was finite, as engaged as a doctor would presumably be in their occupation. But they both hesitated doing anything.

The Doctor studied the electronics. The Chief studied the Doctor.

The civilian's large, intelligent eyes began to exhibit a peculiar stare as if he should've been instantly familiar with what Rion held and was beating himself up for not figuring it out by now—as if knowing was paramount to resuming whatever duties he had beyond these doors. A few more seconds and the Doctor might realize exactly what he was looking at.

The modified setup in the Marine's hands was now clutched loosely at his side, the weight of it becoming apparent. He then watched as the Doctor's stare turned into something that the Chief interpreted as a growing concern to the item and to his presence here. It slowly morphed into a subdued scorn, his sights fixed to the spectrum analyzer and its shoehorned antenna.

"Is that a signal conditioner of some sort? Why did you bring it here?"

Rion sighed. "I'm tired of getting the run-around like I don't exist." The Chief raised the equipment briefly, flaunting the feedhorn just in front of the civilian's face. "This antenna has a pretty high amount of directivity, Doctor. Seems to me that everything goes haywire whenever I point it your direction. Whatever you're doing down here, I think you need to tell me about it. Two UNSC priority assets are non-functional because of it. What is generating all this interference?"

The Doctor smirked, a behavior seemingly incongruent to that of a chief scientific figure leading an entire outpost full of bright, hard-working intellectuals.

"Interference…What interference?"

"This…" Rion queued the last few moments of the device's logging buffer, the strange waveform consuming nearly the entire chart. He swiveled the spectrum analyzer's display into the Doctor's view.

The scientist studied the signals on-screen. He got a few seconds of it before the recording ended, marking the point where the signal was too strong for the equipment to sample further.

"You think you know something. You know very little. And that's the way it is going to stay until an appropriate authority deems it otherwise."

"You were so eager to provide me with the most luxurious vehicles in your stable, start a food delivery service, now this. Stark contrast, if you ask me. You've been accommodating, but maybe too accommodating, almost as if you're trying to keep me at arm's length."

Major Wu then suddenly interjected, though with a disposition of calm and diplomacy.

"None of us have an axe to grind here. We're just doing our best to prepare, and truthfully we can use all the help we can get. You know, Seventh Army can technically commandeer this entire land mass. All facilities, resources and personnel if need be."

"Only if we come under direct Covenant attack and we both know that. Don't try to insult my intelligence by literally sneaking a foot in the door." The Doctor folded his arms across his chest and feigned a smile. "So, what else? We have extremely important work to do and so far my time has been wasted listening to you."

The Major nodded, then glanced at Rion with a shrug. "He's right about that one." Wu looked back to the Doctor, jaw clenched, perhaps teetering on the verge of frustration. "It's obvious you know a thing or two about the Seventh Army's policy publications, but I wonder how long you can keep operating under that excuse. The Covenant have unlimited momentum now. They're on the way here and they're getting closer with every minute we spend on bickering. We should all be supporting each other. You can save everyone a lot of grief and either let us inside or at least tell us what's going on, because when the Chief tells me that his equipment is not performing to spec, I share in that concern. And when an Army Major takes issue with something, you should too. We're all utilizing the resources he's providing us. The least you could do is respect the man."

"Rank means nothing here, gentlemen. You cannot and will not pass through this door and that is the final say. I'm just the messenger."

"Fine, we'll play that game. So you know, as soon as the enemy slips the first molecule of Earth's atmosphere, I'm coming here to break this door down."

Major Wu glimpsed warily at Fontaine, turning away to make for the surface. "C'mon, Chief."

Rion remained for a moment and shook his head at the Doctor.

"This isn't going to go over well with the Colonel. The Seventh's—"

—Kleiner cut Fontaine short with a dismissive wave and refrained from answering. The only thing the Doctor gave both men was a sidelong glare before retreating into the Omega Complex, the doors swinging closed upon his withdrawal.

1615 Hours UTC
Main Elevator, UNSC Science Outpost 01A-77

"Well, that didn't go so well." Fontaine said, staring at the brushed metal panels in front.

Major Wu called the elevator. "He was your contact?"

"Yeah. He picked me up from the ONI site, brought me to the rooftop and showed me around a bit. Then he disappeared."

"What's their operation out here?"

"I…I don't know. No one ever said."

"You never asked?"

The doors parted with a chime and the two stepped in.

"Well, it never perked my interest. I don't know…everything happened so fast. I think I met one person before everything fell apart."

"Well, Reach getting glassed might have something to do with that. Hell, that's why the Nine-Oh-Sixth is here, anyway."

"True. I still can't get to the bottom of all this interference."

"You think the good Doctor knows about it?"

"Can't be sure, but then I can't be sure about much of anything with him shoving us off so quickly all the time."

"You said two-thirds of your equipment is non-op because of this."

"That's right." Rion sighed.

"Well, that's a non-starter in my opinion. If that Doctor knows what the source of interference is and won't tell you, I'd say it's time for us to take matters into our own hands."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I'd do it. The man's aloof, and the only thing up and running is that LASER link of yours. What if it too goes down?"

"You've got a point. Three links are always better than one."

"And certainly better than none."

"How do we go about our fact-finding?"

"Remember what I said down there?" The elevator doors opened and the two stepped out into the sun. The Major paused at the surface to take in the hive of activity occurring just outside the parking garage, a polar opposite to the silence and vastness of the underground. Vehicles were moving about the perimeter of the structure, zipping off in orderly lanes indicated by reflective palisades driven into the dirt. A motor pool was set up on the Southern front where any vessel could park and receive depot-level maintenance if needed. All other fronts were designated strictly for staging sorties and convoys to the combat zone in the East, where the Covenant would inevitably assault at their onset. "...I said that when the Covenant arrives, you and I will be heading down to that Omega Complex, but next time we won't be knocking."

A lone Warthog driver hurriedly waved them across. The two waved back in reply before scurrying toward the shade of the parking garage. Rion glanced behind and saw a team of combat engineers bolting the sections of a base defense turret together. The same action had occurred at all other corners of the building.

"You can head for the rooftop if you want to," Major Wu said, "but I'm going to walk up and see how our deployment is progressing."

"I'll make the rounds with you."

The two proceeded to the deeply-shadowed central ramp, ascending its incline with long strides.

At the second level, Rion observed sleeping tents and shower stalls being erected beneath rows of recently hoisted floodlamps. Water purifiers hummed, feeding massive storage bladders adjacent to the soldiers' living quarters. More camouflage netting draped the exposed ledges, helping to further conceal the unit's residence. Some personnel had already begun initiating a staggered, twelve-hour shift, heading inside the tarp walls for their sleep cycles. They'd begin their watch upon their next waking.

"Looks like the Nine-Oh-Sixth is now fully self-sufficient." Fontaine remarked.

Wu nodded and led the upward journey to the next level.

1700 Hours UTC
Rooftop

Wu and Fontaine ascended the final ramp and were met with natural light, slightly obscured beyond the camouflage sheeting now strewn across the entire expanse above them. The Major nodded at the Chief before breaking off toward Lieutenant Colonel Watson and a small group of Captains and Lieutenants. Rion saw Wu off with a nearly identical gesture, watching the small crowd gather. The Major stood at parade rest and listened intently as the 906th's Deputy Commander began formulating the air supply route schedules to and from the twin command posts—this rooftop and the rooftop of the Hospital deep inside Mombasa.

Rion felt his presence was superfluous for the moment—with no purpose or direction. He disliked that feeling, especially while so much was happening around him.

He proceeded into his ops tent, first reaching for a cold water bottle inside the fridge before working up the nerve to power up the last remaining spectrum analyzer resting on the table. He set his current, modified equipment down on the cot and enjoyed a few gulps. A few gulps turned into Rion downing the entire contents of the bottle in a few seconds, the Warrant Officer only now realizing how parched his body became. He set the clear container down on the table and scowled at the inert spectrum analyzer. It was bricked following his visit to the sub-complex, which meant he now only had one other such tool at his disposal—worth half a year's wages by his estimation.

Before energizing the last known working device on the table, he bent down to the cot, removed the parabolic antenna from the damaged unit and set them side by side. He then reached into another case, retrieving from it an in-line attenuator. The rectangular potentiometer would step down the amplitude of incoming signals and impedance-match them to the spectrum analyzer's input, ensuring the equipment against an incident that would erode away at his options, such as what happened moments ago underground. Rion was finished running on chances and coincidences and gambles and good faith. Something nebulous was taking place at this location, he now concluded. Soon, he hoped, the root cause of it all would be uncovered.

Armed with more assurance, he rigged all the components together, returning the damaged unit to its original box and sealing it.

"Chief."

Rion wheeled around to face the entry way. Major Wu had returned.

"How about that link?"

"Right, sorry. I'll get on it right now."

"Appreciated, Chief. How long until we can start using it?"

"I'd say ten minutes, tops. You guys didn't bring your own stuff?"

"We have RF capabilities, but no fancy space assets like you." Wu smiled.

Rion smiled back, carrying out of the tent with him a short spool of fiber optic cable.

1725 Hours UTC
Rooftop

"I've got your VLAN setup to the Hospital. All they need to do is get their SAT-link up and running and both sites should be able to pass traffic."

"How much information do you think this link will be able to carry?"

"A forty meg piece of the pie? Should be real fast, Major. I provisioned as much priority as I could against the requirements that the Doctor originally had. You two are more or less equal, although at peak load the people downstairs have the lion's share. But it really doesn't matter because this is more than you'll ever need. Even if everyone on the net is talking simultaneously, no one should notice any degradation in speed or quality."

"Much appreciated, Chief. I'll inform Hospital HQ of the good news. You have no idea how helpful this is going to be. These dinky, little handheld radios only support one-hundred sixteen channels. With your link, we should be able to provide thousands of extensions. Enough for everyone in the Nine-Oh-Sixth."

"Glad to be of help, sir."

Wu flashed a thumbs-up. "Let us know if you ever need anything, Fontaine."

Rion looked around and saw that the 906th was more or less finished in their preparations at the rooftop. A fully-featured communications relay had been setup and was just now interfaced with the high-speed LASER uplink. A networked, telephoto lens was anchored to the top of the Eastern parapet. Swarms of mini-drones buzzed high overhead of an HQ fully veiled in an active cloaking camouflage. And sniper-scout teams were perched at the top three levels—actively surveying the unit's defensive radius at all four corners of the parking garage. Down below, multiple battalions augmented with heavy mechanized forces and an entire wing of aircraft lied in wait. This entire structure, for all intents and purposes, was poised to wage regional war.

The Chief again ventured to the Eastern parapet to take another downward look for himself. The assembly of the base defense turrets was also fully completed, the automated sentries sweeping across their pre-programmed azimuth and ready to barrage anything without a UNSC IFF transponder. All anyone could do now was...

"Wait." Rion said, stopping the Major short.

The Southeastern Earth-native spun on a heel and arced a brow at Fontaine. "Yes?"

"Actually, I do have something."

"What can I help you with, Chief?"

1745 Hours UTC
Rooftop

Rion furiously typed.

The Master Station Log's last entry was dated the twenty-first of September. Long-winded, mundane details of the initial site setup and equipment configuration were all that the paragraphs consisted of prior to then, taking up entire pages of the chronology report since deployment to this science outpost's parking garage. He'd neglected this archival, among other things, ever since news of Reach's demise was received. Things were taking shape too rapidly, he mused in his own defense. He then doubted anyone at his own HQ would care anything about the Chief's MSL.

"Okay, Chief, I'm ready to help. What do you need us to—"

"—One sec, sir. Okay, just had to finish that thought." Rion spun around in his chair. "Keeping a journal of events."

"Sergeant Lake has volunteered to help you, Chief."

The female Sergeant stepped forth as the Major withdrew.

"Erica Lake." she said, removing her helmet, wiping a few beads of sweat from her forehead.

The Sergeant awaiting further instruction at the threshold projected a discipline uncommon among most NCOs, it seemed at first glance, with her alert posture and her gaze locked solid onto the Chief's. This character was usually evident among younger, less jaded troops. Most NCOs would promptly volunteer one of their own soldiers for outside favors to neighboring units, a private or perhaps a corporal. Fontaine readily took notice of her willing disposition and saw that this particular Sergeant was more committed to cause than most others. The uniform disguised her femininity, which was only visible in her soft eyes and freckled cheeks. She wore her helmet low before curtly removing it a moment prior, the front of it tipped forward, which had most of her features shaded ahead of introductions. She uncannily reminded him of his wife, a much younger and intrepid likeness of her. It made him wonder how far along in the journey she was toward that majestic, countryside cabin. The Chief cut his speculation short when the Sergeant asked right away, "What needs done?"

He could safely assume Sergeant Lake never wasted time in her real-world taskings.

"Okay, you just need to take this spectrum analyzer and haul it around the perimeter of the parking garage. The antenna needs to be pointed toward the ground at all times. Press the INIT button on the front panel right below the display and it will begin processing everything it receives. When you've made one complete loop, hit that same button again and the histogram will stop recording." Rion smiled. "And that's it."

"That's it?" Lake accepted the devices, donned her helmet again and smirked. "Sounds too easy, Chief."

1830 Hours UTC
Rooftop

The Chief had finally recalled everything. The log was caught up to the present day's events. He was just about to provide pretext for Lake's upcoming findings when he realized it was dark outside. He hadn't left his post since he started typing. It was like a recollection of not-so-distant memories playing out before him by his own hands. He stood, stretched, reached for the fridge, then stopped. He suddenly pictured his family driving along some interstate highway, likely awaiting his contact. The only line available to the outside world was the LASER link. He glanced about the rooftop through the narrow slit in the tarp, rubbing at his chin. A 64 kbps circuit was hardly anything in comparison to the wealth of capacity the entire site possessed. Even if someone or some automated SNMP-Trap was actively monitoring the aggregate flow of this communications pipeline, they probably wouldn't notice Rion's hands reaching into the cookie jar—or even care if he did.

Before Rion could rise from his chair to snatch the console from the table top and start dialing, in came Sergeant Lake with the spectrum analyzer in hand, smiling. "The readings were strongest toward North-Northeast. Give me something more difficult next time, Chief." Lake said, setting the equipment on the table adjacent to the Warrant Officer. She flashed another smirk before exiting the tent.

Rion was delayed in returning a nod, Lake having already departed, but he instead cast his thankful gesture toward the display in-hand. He remained standing as he watched the entirety of the test's progression. If Lake started out her journey in a counter-clockwise loop, his estimation would have her stumbling upon the strongest readings thirty seconds after leaving the Garage's Eastern entrance. A clockwise rotation would've taken much longer. His first guess was accurate. Little more than half a minute after Rion started the instrument's playback, the display went from an erratic noise to an explosion of activity. Ten more seconds of this chaos manifested, then the signal attenuated somewhat, dwindling as she'd roamed about the circumference at a steady walking pace, he imagined.

The Chief annotated everything that'd happened in the log, sighing after he saved it to the local storage array. Another piece of the puzzle was revealed, though he surmised there'd be plenty of gaps to fill in the days ahead.

Now, alone and free to take his own steps, Rion swiped the GUI off the table and started to access the Global Information Grid. He twiddled his fingers for a moment before deciding whether or not to proceed. He hesitated for a few seconds, reminding himself that what he was about to undertake would surely result in some kind of disciplinary action were the War not so close to Earth. But now, all the chips were down. The Covenant found Reach, conquered it, and they'd surely find Earth.

The Chatter Net was undoubtedly the ideal soft target—exploited by just about everyone—despite the under-enforced legalities of doing so.

"All's fair in love and war."

Fontaine executed a Sloloris v5 attack on the central Chatter server, inundating it with terabytes of synch/handshake requests on all the open ports it currently advertised. The first few hundred ports were promptly locked down by generic, automated security counter-measures, but Rion found a dozen other choices once his tunneling protocol's payload snuck past the firewall. His pseudo-NMS software was a chameleon, faking its way around the vast infrastructure and mapping its entirety as it traversed. In seconds, it revealed several unsecured virtual console lines normally reserved for Network Administrators and Rion logged in as one with a devious smile.

"Too easy."

Geo-positional metadata on a certain user ID was the next objective. He found a call manager application inside of some Management Information Base and entered the numbers of his wife's Chatter device and awaited the search results. A map software program loaded almost instantaneously, normally requiring some serious computations and a lot of waiting, but the LASER link and all of the Chief's efficiencies were a step ahead of the game. There, steadily migrating West by Northwest was the red blip denoting her real-time vector and speed. Rion smiled and touched the view screen, scooting the slow-moving indicator along with a finger. "God's speed, ladies."

They were nearly at the home stretch, maybe only four or five-hundred kilometers to go. For their time zone, Rion imagined they'd be pulling up to the Ranch just before sunset. He surmised their most likely route. They'd be passing through Denver, Colorado.

Before terminating the program, he beamed her a text message.

AVOID ALL MAJOR CITIES. TAKE THE BACK ROADS. SEE YOU SOON. LOVE, RION.

Rion glanced at his surroundings. All was quiet and calm and a sense of control had spread throughout the entire outpost. He began to perceive his own fatigue slipping in. Setting the device down again, he climbed into the cot and closed his eyes, hoping he could experience at least one uneventful night.

And he would.

But the next day would bring great pandemonium. Not just for him, but for the entire galaxy. A human supersoldier in some remote locale of the Milky Way had just turned the tide of the War. With the ringworld destroyed, the human race had momentary respite...

...but the tide was sweeping this way.