Chapter VI

—Blackout—

0600 Hours, October 5, 2550 (Military Calendar) \
Aboard unidentified Covenant Assault Carrier,
Slipstream Space—unknown coordinates.

An unsettling silence had kept the Spartan-III soldiers company for the past few hours, for the constant hum from the Covenant ship's engines had since faded. The Spartans settled down within a darkened nook a considerable distance from the hustle and bustle of the expansive hangar bay. It was an even more deadened silence between the two Headhunters. They hadn't spoken to one another since the ship entered Slipspace, and for good reason. If they spoke freely over open COMs, Covenant techs would detect them with ease; and second, what was there possibly to say?

No words of encouragement could be spoke or malicious arguing or finger pointing. From his standpoint, Jace felt that the blame should be placed upon his shoulders. He was the team leader, so the fault was his. It wouldn't even surprise him if Alex agreed with him. The Lieutenant had lost allies in the past for his drastic and suicidal methods. Even though they were successful, they usually ended with either the death of a friend or serious injury. He was reckless, something a trained Spartan should never cultivate. But it was his call and he made it.

If it wasn't for using the Tac-Nuke to rocket themselves into this ship, they would've been glassed along with that station. Still, when Jace briefly stole a glance at Alex's faceplate, it made his heart ache. She would just be another Spartan added to list of those he'd inadvertently killed—he included. It would only be a matter of time before the Covenant stumbled upon them. However, at least a dozen or so Covenant passed the inconspicuous nook and paid it no mind. But there would probably be always one curious alien to stick its nose where it doesn't belong and raise the whole ship.

So the Lieutenant remained vigilant, fighting the urge to sleep. He'd been awake for the past eighteen hours, and he could go an additional ten if the circumstances called for it. Alex was awake was well, paying more than the usual attention to the goings-on in the Covenant hangar. She wasn't about to let her guard down, not with the enemy still breathing. From her standpoint, this was a new experience. Never before had she been trapped inside a Covenant vessel while in Slipspace, and if this ship was homeward bound, the Spartans would undoubtedly be listed MIA.

The Petty Officer fought away the discouragement. Every equation had a solution, and this equation was no different. The hangar bay began thinning out now, leaving only Engineers and a handful of Grunts. All seemed clear. At the risk of being discovered, Alex opened her COMs, selecting a private channel.

"Hangar's down to its skeleton crew."

The Lieutenant didn't reply. He continued to stare indiscriminately out into the hangar, sorting and discarding ideas. No idea was credible, not unless the Spartans were immune to Covenant weaponry. Jace silently tapped his right fingers against his armored knee as he twirled a single M6D round through his dominate left handed fingers.

"So…," the Lieutenant unexpectedly spoke. "… Alex, is that short for something?"

The Petty Officer turned to face her superior, stunned by the fact he actually initiated light conversation. She always thought he viewed conversations as mundane, but with the current circumstances, it wasn't too surprising.

"Alexandria. You?"

"Just Jace," he replied.

"Your accent… I've never heard it before. Africa?" Saber-Two continued, hoping to peel back the complicated layers.

"Born in Durban, South Africa, but relocated to Johannesburg when I was four. Father was in the service, so we moved constantly—city to city, planet to planet. What about you… Germany?"

Alex raised her brow with an enthusiastic frown. "You're good. Born and raised in Leipzig before my mother's work forced us to move to Reach—Ensign Giesla Becker of the UNSC Navy. What was your father?"

"Marine," the Lieutenant quickly responded. "First Sergeant Adrian Lennox. He was a mukiwa, met my mo—"

"Mukiwa?" Alex interrupted, confused.

"It means 'white boy in Africa'," Jace translated. "My mother was a Shona, born and raised in Zimbabwe. Met my father and, well… here's the finished project."

Alex smirked; she somewhat thrilled about the information she was receiving. In the past, her fellow Headhunters never said anything about their backgrounds. They only focused on the mission, which how it should've been; but camaraderie wasn't impossible to cultivate. Something about Jace was different, for he seemed more human than his outward appearance displayed.

She felt comfortable—as much as a Spartan possibly could, however. Alex, though, understood her boundaries, so she exercised self-control as for as her questionnaire. Jace was still her superior officer, even though he rarely exercised his authority over her.

"So how old were you when you were conscripted?" Alex questioned further, simultaneously keeping a watchful eye out for Covenant scouts.

"Seven," he answered. "It was a few months after my father was reassigned to Harvest."

Alex swallowed, halting her scavenger hunt. Harvest was a sensitive subject, especially those of the UNSC. It was first planet and/or target for the Covenant. And with the Lieutenant speaking of his parents in the past tense, she could only assume they were killed during the glassing. She understood, for her mother was a casualty during the Second Battle of Harvest when Admiral Cole launched his assault upon the single Covenant Battleship. The conversation ended in a cold silence, a silence of painful memories and promised vengeance.

Remembrance of that day had long faded from memory, and Alex, for one, couldn't even remember her mother's face. Jace heard the Petty Officer yawn over the private channel, easily indicating she was growing tired. In the event a solution was uncovered to escape from this Assault Carrier, they'd need to be refreshed, not drowsy and sluggish.

"Get some sleep," the Lieutenant suggested. "We'll trade off in four hours."

Alex winked her acknowledgment light green. She slouched down against the corner of the nook, crossed her arms and ankles, and eventually dozed off. Jace crawled near the opening of the nook, allowing him to monitor Covenant activity. So the Headhunter rested his back against the wall, sighing grievously as he stared into the darkness.

1600 Hours, October 7, 2550 (Military Calendar) \
Unknown Covenant-controlled planet, Upsilon
Andromedae star system.

The air was dry, causing a multitude of harmless dust devils to swirl about. A dull, evening-like light shined from the distant yellow-white dwarf star, giving the planet an everlasting-like dusk. The landscape was desert, mountainous-like, similar a combination of the Sahara and Rocky Mountain chain. No water was visible upon the planet's surface, only underground springs that kept the planet's limited fauna alive. It was a small relatively small planet, about half the size of Earth's moon. In the dull sunlight, a Covenant Phantom hummed over a plateau, descending toward an excavation site below.

A pair of dark silhouettes stood upright, removing a carpet of dried vegetation from their armored bodies. The SPARTAN-III duo—Headhunters—observed the enemy site, scrutinizing its elements. Moderate in size, the Covenant site expanded a hundred years in all directions, supporting scores of individual alien species roaming about. The alien, however, weren't the main threat—the Scarab was. A single monstrous, insect-like machine latched its legs into the earth, firing a luminous stream of emerald plasma into the ground.

Clouds of dust blossomed around them as molten particles of stone erupted from the disturbed earth. One of the Spartans took down his DMR, resting it over his knee. He flashed a hand signal, and the second Spartan came to the fore. The secondary Headhunter raised his customized Sniper Rifle, sweeping the landscape in search of a plausible approach that wouldn't alert the enemy. He caught sight of a small, shallow rift, located just outside the Covenant site. The Spartan pulled the rounded, rubber-edged scope from his faceplate, glaring at his comrade.

"Gorge to the west. Distance? Maybe ten, fifteen meters."

SPARTAN-B038—Jeremiah—gripped his DMR, standing erect to commandeer his ally's rifle. He viewed the gorge, grunting under his breath. Ten to fifteen meters between them and the Covenant wasn't much for comfort, but it was the only available piece of cover for miles. Jeremiah handed the rifle back, gaiting slowly around behind his comrade—SPARTAN-B229, Lukas.

"Then that's our route," Jeremiah confirmed.

The Spartans of Sierra Team proceeded to their parked M12G1 Warthog, mounting it. Jeremiah took wheel, while Lukas took up the passenger side. The vehicle roared to life as Jeremiah geared it in reverse before wheeling it around. Lukas held onto the 'Hog's frame as it lunged from atop the plateau and onto a steep incline. The Spartans bounced in their seats from the rugged terrain with Lukas howling into the wind in excitement. Jeremiah steered the Warthog around jagged, spear-like rocks that protruded from the ground. He switched it into another gear, planted his boot on the gas, and sent the 'Hog soaring onto level ground.

The Headhunters, then, muffled there excitement, accommodating the appropriate persona. In the distance, the Covenant excavation site was in view now, and Jeremiah slowed the Warthog to a snail's pace. He soon silenced the engine, parking it out of sight. Lukas jumped from his seat, going around to the rear of the 'Hog. He climbed onto the back, meticulously removing the Gauss Cannon and its stand. The Spartan hefted the weighty cannon in his hands, while Jeremiah roped the belt of 25x130mm rounds.

Elusively, the Headhunters scurried across the arid landscape, eventually sliding down into the gorge that was just five feet deep. Lukas set up the Gauss Cannon, propping it on the rift's edge. He opened the rounded cartridge on the weapon's side, loading four slugs into the empty slots. To handle its recoil, the Spartan the stand's legs into the earth, hammering them down with his boot. "Cannon secured," Lukas reported, holding up his thumb.

"Scarab's going to give us hell, though."

"So am I," Jeremiah promised, positioning himself behind the cannon.

Lukas let out a miniscule grunt, climbing out of the gorge to locate a vantage point. Jeremiah watched him sprint off in the distance, soon disappearing from sight.

In just a few moments, Lukas responded, "In position."

"Copy that, Sierra-Two. Get ready to execute," replied B038.

Operation: BLACKOUT was underway, and the Headhunters readied themselves for another round with the Covenant. For Jeremiah and Lukas, this was round two. They had been chasing the Covenant throughout the Upsilon Andromedae star system, causing mayhem for the past four months now. The two Headhunters had been together since day one, having a bond so strong that only death could break.

They'd survived scores of operations, always coming back for more. With a combatability rate of 95.78, the Spartans were primed for anything the Covenant threw at them. There weren't many Headhunter teams, now with the Human-Covenant War erupting as it did. But their precise number was unknown, for Headhunters were secret to even their peers.

Over the past month, however, the Covenant's activity in the Upsilon Andromedae was growing more secretive. They'd been jumping from quadrate to quadrate, blasting and excavating nearly every planet in the system. Sierra Team, though, was there to foil every attempt, destroying one of their ships in the process. An Assault Carrier, however, had gotten away, perhaps jumping to another system.

That ship didn't matter, for Sierra Team had tracked the remaining Covenant ships to this lowly planet; and like before, they'd begun their excavation. What they were looking the Spartans didn't know, but whatever they found, it would obtained by the Headhunters before the Covenant could possibly use it against the UNSC. This wasn't Covenant-controlled space, which made the Spartans of Sierra Team all the more curious. Whatever the reason the Covenant was here, it ended today.

Jeremiah lined down his sights, aiming for the Scarab's mouth-mounted cannon. A couple of perfect shots would potentially destroy the metallic beast, but if timed incorrectly, it would give away his position and leave him wide open for attack. So the Spartan motioned the reticule over the Scarab's cannon as it charged for another shot.

Jeremiah keyed his TEAMCOM. "Execute."

The Spartan fired the shot, sending the slug into the cannon of the Scarab. An explosion occurred as the heated plasma met the Gauss Cannon round, tearing off two of the four mandible-like plates. Small flames flared around the cannon, just as Jeremiah fired another shot. This time, it was a kill shot. A bright expanse of light shined brightly as a ripple of explosions consumed the Scarab's head. Releasing an inhuman screech, the alien machine broke down, slowly collapsing with throbbing red lights. Covenant soldiers scampered from the critical machine, desperately seeking cover before it blew. In the confusion, Lukas went to work, picking off the scrambling Elites.

The aliens aimed their plasma rifle, searching for origin of the fired shots. By the time an Elite Minor located Lukas, a round pierced through its forehead. Jeremiah kept up his assault, funneling the silver-armored Ultras into his sights. He reloaded the cannon, fired three shots, then watched Lukas's exceptional sniping skills steal his target. In time, the Covenant excavation workers had been dwindled down to Jackals and Grunts, so the Spartans ceased fire.

"Get groundside, Sierra-Two. We're taking the fight to them," Sierra-One ordered.

"Copy that… moving into position," Sierra-Two acknowledged.

Jeremiah leaped out of the rift, shouldering his DMR. He coasted along the fringes of the site, downing injured Covenant who survived the assault. A few Grunts waddled about, shakily holding their plasma pistols. Fear enveloped them as an armored figure appeared through the smoke, firing a single round into their masked faces. The Spartans amplified vision fished out figures in the fog of smoke from the burning Scarab, allowing him to take down unexpected foes. But he wasn't the only one.

An injured Elite Ultra fixed its fierce eyes upon the lone Spartan, loosely holding its energy sword. It sprinted for Jeremiah, preparing to plunge its sword through the humanoid irritant. The Spartan caught sight of the sword in his peripheral vision, evading milliseconds before being gored. Jeremiah drew his combat knife, climbed up the Elite's back, and slit its throat. The Elite collapsed, just as another appeared through the smoke. Jeremiah rapidly backpedaled, firing his DMR into the Elite's shields.

The scarlet-armored alien erupted into a burst of sweep, sweeping its legs underneath the Spartans'. Jeremiah fell onto the ground as the Elite brought its fist down. The Spartan rolled right, just as the alien warrior struck the ground. Before he could strike, a shower of blood coated the Spartan's charcoal-colored armor.

The Elite Major dropped as Lukas emerged, reloading his rifle. "You're welcome."

Jeremiah dismissed his comrade, turning his attention on what the Scarab had been firing at. Lukas stayed behind, wielding his pistol to search out remaining Covenant. SPARTAN-B038 came to where the Scarab had fallen, admiring the smoldering machine. He turned his back to the burning metallic corpse, hearing faint gunshots in the background from Lukas.

An abysmal crater had been dug by the Scarab's cannon, leaving smoldering bits of stone from the plasma's intense heat. From previous encounters, the Covenant had yet to use a Scarab during their excavation, which led Jeremiah to believe that maybe they finally found what they were looking for. The Spartan pulled a flare from his gear behind his waist. He lit it against the nearby stones, then dropped it down into the hole. The flare's light continued to plummet a great depth before clanging against the bottom. Jeremiah wasn't positive, but stone didn't echo as loudly. Metal maybe, but not stone.

Lukas returned from his Grunt-Jackal killing spree, reloading his pistol before switching to his primary weapon. "All targets neutralized," he reported, staring down into the hole at the burning flare.

"Secure a line to that Scarab," Jeremiah instructed. "We're headin' south."

"And we're looking for…?" Lukas asked, waiting for Jeremiah to answer.

"You recall that ancient artifact you found a few years ago?" B038 questioned.

"How could I forget?" B229 remembered. "Covies nearly tracked us back to the inner colonies for that thing."

"ONI wants us to be especially vigilant for alien artifacts that might interest the Covenant. We can't afford for them to get an upper hand in this war. We're already losing as it is," Jeremiah explained, muttering his last statement.

It was true. The UNSC was losing to the Covenant, and giving the enemy an advantage was like feeding a forest fire with gasoline. Whether large or small, anything of interest would be taken back with the Spartans. With that Lukas unraveled a lengthy line of mountain climbing rope, latching it onto a section of the Scarab was suffered the least damage. He tugged on the line, testing its strength.

"We're good," Lukas confirmed.

Jeremiah nodded as he wrapped the opposite end of rope around his waist. He slipped the metal clip on the end of the rope around a knot he had tied, while Lukas held onto the other end. Gingerly, Jeremiah rappelled himself down into the chasm with Delta-Two feeding him meters of rope at a time. When he had reached the bottom, Sierra-One felt his boots echo against a sleek, leaden base. He activated the external lights on his helmet, highlighting a cavern made of alien medal that extended out before him.

"Lukas, get down here," Jeremiah sounded over the COMs.

Lukas promptly curled his hands around the line, delicately shimmied down as Jeremiah tightly gripped the line to prevent his ally from falling. At jumping distance, Lukas released the rope, landing beside the fellow Headhunter. The distance had to be at least five hundred feet down, a perfect concealment depth if you had something to hide. At that the Headhunters of Sierra Team braced themselves, advancing into the unexplored depths.