Relic of the Past
Chapter 2: Flawless Cowboy
?/ Barren Wastelands/Rim Billinton Outskirts
John's footsteps crunched against the gravel as he approached what looked to be a city built on a giant vehicle. The first spark of civilization he had seen in the past few days after meeting the wayward miners was a grim landscape of steel and smoke dominating the horizon.
According to his map, he had entered the country of Rim Billiton. The sun barely pierced the smog that hung over the city like a shroud, casting an eerie glow upon the land. He knew that somewhere in this sprawling metropolis lay the fragment he had been searching for, but finding it would not be easy, especially if he had to search under the nose of an active city.
John had been walking for days in the barren wasteland, with nothing but sand and scorching heat all around him. He had begun to believe the map Sergei had given him was wrong until he saw the faint outline of the city on the horizon. As he approached closer, he realized that it was indeed built on a giant vehicle, a massive structure on wheels with multiple levels and compartments.
"A mobile city," Durandal commented through his helmet speakers. "Likely to avoid those surface disasters from destroying them. The resourcefulness and mechanical ingenuity required to devise such a structure is impressive."
John couldn't disagree with Durandal's assessment. The mobile city was no doubt a marvel of engineering. He had never seen anything like it, a city on the move, likely one constantly shifting and changing in the face of the dangers the surface wrought. He wondered what kind of people lived there, what kind of life they led. Was it one of constant motion and uncertainty, or did they have some semblance of stability and routine? He knew he would soon find out but didn't have time to dwell on its construction. He had a mission to complete.
Taking a deep breath, John walked towards the city's entrance, his footsteps echoing against the metal surface as he entered the structure, gravel terrain giving way to smooth metal.
As he approached the massive gates at the base of the settlement, he was greeted by the sounds of clanging metal and hissing steam.
"Welcome to Steel Robot City," an automated voice announced from a speaker hidden among the rust-streaked walls. "Please proceed with caution and remember: safety first."
"Right," Master Chief muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. He had learned long ago that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. The sooner he could locate the fragment, the better.
"Welcome to Steel Robot City," a gruff voice greeted him from a booth perched near the entrance. Most likely a customs clerk. "You here for work?"
John noted the Australian English accent, but it had a distinctive difference from what he used to.
"Maybe," John replied tersely, his gaze locked onto the structure's interior before him. Beyond the gate was an elevator that likely would take those welcomed to the city up to the surface. "First, I need some information."
"Depends," the booth attendant said, crossing his arms. "We don't have much use for outsiders here, especially the Victorian type, judging from your accent. It's a little odd, though. What are you, a Catastrophe Messenger? You here to warn us of an incoming Catastrophe headed our way?"
Again, John was mistaken for a 'Victorian' and a 'Catastrophe Messenger'. Though he noted the given description of the latter. So, these 'Messengers' were a form of early warning systems placed to avoid frequent and destructive natural disasters to move their cities regularly to avert massive losses?
If that was the case, then these 'Messengers' undoubtedly held high importance to these nation's cities. He knew he had to tread carefully.
"No, I'm not a Catastrophe Messenger," he replied, maintaining his composure. "Though I am a carrier of some sort."
"Oh yeah?" The attendant sniffed. "A courier then?"
"Of a sort." John knew the attendant was suspicious, but he had to keep his cool. He needed a way to enter the city and find the fragment, and getting this man to grant him access was critical.
There was no doubt that he could likely find a way to infiltrate the city, but he wasn't sure of the security within the city. From what he could see of the booth attendant and the security officers posted around the gate, a massive telltale sign of the native population was those rabbit ears on their heads. A feature John distinctively lacked.
Added with his towering height and less-than-conspicuous appearance, he would no doubt stick out like a sore thumb among the general populace.
If he could, he would rather not have Rim Billiton authorities hunting for him during his search if he could help it. After his altercation with the Sarkaz days ago, he wasn't exactly raring to go head first into another one in his current condition if he could help it.
The attendant regarded him for a moment, his gaze scrutinizing as he took in his imposing stature and the mining hammer strapped to his back next to his ruck.
"Fine, but I need to check your papers and verify your identity before answering any questions you've got," he said, gesturing for John to hand over his documents.
John hesitated momentarily, knowing he did not have the necessary papers to show the attendant. He could try to bluff his way in, but the attendant seemed too careful for that. He needed a new strategy and fast.
He couldn't let the lack of papers and identity hinder his mission. He had to improvise. He reached into his ruck and pulled out the thick envelope Sergei had given him, tossing it onto the booth counter. The attendant picked it up hesitantly, eyeing it warily.
"What's this?"
"Payment," John replied coolly. "For access to the city and information."
The attendant raised an eyebrow, but the envelope's thickness and weight seemed to convince him. He opened the envelope and peered inside, his eyes widening at the sight of the stack of large blue bills.
John didn't know the amount Sergei had given him, but it must've been a high sum from the reaction.
"Alright," The attendant said, pocketing the envelope as subtly as possible, eying the nearby guards as he did. "I suppose we can bend the rules a little. What do you want to know? And keep it simple, ask anything too crazy, and I'll make sure you're kicked out without a refund."
John nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He had passed the first obstacle: time to cash in what he could before moving on. "What kind of nation is Rim Billiton?"
The attendant chuckled at John's question, shaking his head. "You don't know much, do you?" he said, his rabbit ears twitching. "Rim Billiton is no nation-state like the rest, mate. It's an expansive mining originium company that got their fingers in every pie from Yan to Kazdel. Not a lot happens without their say-so. They own it all."
"It sounds like this Rim Billiton is more of a widespread mega-corporation than a true nation, but with enough resources and financial support to start and maintain their own if they wish to," Durandal commented.
John nodded, his eyes narrowing as he took in the attendant's words. Rim Billiton was clearly a powerful entity with vast resources and connections across this portion of the supercontinent. He knew it wouldn't be easy to retrieve if the fragment was in their possession.
"And mobile cities like Steel Robot, is that the norm around here?" he asked.
The attendant leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful, though he could see the flash of suspicion in his eyes. "That's the norm, mate," he said. "Nomadic cities are what keep the civilization of every nation existing. We're all always on the move, never staying in one place for too long. That's how we avoid the Catastrophes that plague this side of the world, you see."
John nodded, remembering Durandal's earlier observation. "And what kind of people live here?"
The attendant shrugged. "All kinds," he said. "Most of the natives are predominately Cautus here, though."
"Cautus?"
The attendant didn't verbally respond at first; instead, he pointed toward the rabbit ears sitting on the top of his head. "We've got these babies that give some unique abilities that make us valuable to the mining operation."
"Unique abilities?" John echoed, intrigued.
"Yup," the attendant continued. "Our hearing is incredible, for one. They can detect even the slightest vibrations in the rock, which helps prevent cave-ins. Plus, we're nimble and quick, good for getting into tight spaces." He shrugged. "At least, that's what our bosses tell us when they want to pump up the miners to work harder. Makes them feel special."
"Interesting," John mused. "Why is originium mined so frequently? Is that the main resource traded around these parts and further up north?"
The attendant's brows shot up, seemingly surprised. " You touched in the head? Or have you been living under a bloody rock or something? You gotta touch grass more often, champ."
To be fair, John had been under cryosleep while being hidden inside a mountain, so the rabbit-eared man wasn't that far off.
"Originium is the backbone of the entire world," the attendant continued, his tone slightly condescending. "It powers everything, from the mobile cities to the weapons everyone uses to fight and their arts. Hell, even my toaster's got a good piece of originium keeping it running. It's the most valuable resource in the world, and Rim Billiton controls the vast majority of it. Yeah, we own our territory between Yan and Kazdel, but our work is international. We've got a finger in just about every nation's originium stocks. Long story short, if originium is what powers the world, we're the ones that make sure everyone's got enough of it."
John nodded, taking in the information. It was clear that Rim Billiton was a powerful and influential entity, with control over the lifeblood of the world.
If the fragment he was seeking was in their possession, he knew it would take considerable effort to retrieve it.
"It doesn't seem so, Spartan," Durandal responded to his thoughts. "The signal is below of us, not above. There is a strong possibility that it's underneath one of their mining facilities."
Underneath his helmet, John's eyes flickered with a sense of unease. Even if the fragment was indeed located in one of Rim Billiton's mining facilities, the task at hand might still be a difficult one. Infiltrating their mining camps might be easy enough if he played his cards right, but extracting the fragment might be a different story.
The attendant noticed his hesitation and leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "Is there anything else you want to know?"
John could feel the man's growing weariness with him by the minute.
"And what about the security here?" he asked the attendant, trying to get a sense of the measures in place to protect their valuable resources.
The attendant leaned forward, his gaze wary. "We've got a pretty tight security system in place," he said. "We've got guards posted at all times, and our mobile cities are outfitted with state-of-the-art defense systems to ward off any threats. But if you're thinking of trying anything funny, I wouldn't recommend it. We take our security seriously around here."
John nodded, acknowledging the warning. He knew he would have to be careful if he wanted to retrieve the fragment without getting caught. If the guards here were as tough as the Sarkaz, then he'd need to be careful.
"Last one," He assured the slowly impatient attendant. "Has Rim Billiton ever dug up anything other than originium? Perhaps something that can be considered an artifact of some sort?"
The attendant raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "You're asking about artifacts? You one of those treasure hunters or something?"
John didn't respond, but his silence seemed to confirm the attendant's suspicions. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Well," he said slowly. "I can't speak for all of Rim Billiton's operations, but there have been rumors of some interesting finds in certain areas outside and around here. Artifacts, like you said. But those kinds of things are kept pretty hush-hush, you know? If the higher-ups know anything about them, they haven't told us anything. But I've heard rumors of...strange things down south in Iberia."
John leaned in, his interest piqued as well. "Like what?"
The attendant shook his head. "I can't say for sure. Just rumors, you know? Besides, as far as I know, that kind of stuff is the kind of work for bounty hunters. But I've heard of stories of ancient ruins but never gave them much thought before. They just sound like old fairy tales to me."
John pondered over the attendant's words. Ancient ruins and artifacts. It was worth investigating if there was even a slim chance that these were Forerunner artifacts or structures that could lead him to the control room.
"Anything else you want to know? I'm on the clock, got business to attend to and all that."
John turned and looked behind him, wondering if anyone else had appeared at the entrance while he was gathering information.
There was no one there. He was still the only one at the customs booth.
Facing the Cautus once more, John shook his head. "No, that's good for now. Thank you for your help."
The attendant nodded, his rabbit ears twitching as he did. "Good, if you asked another weird question, I would've sent you packing. Remember what I said, mate. Keep your head down and your business to yourself. You don't want to mess with Rim Billiton."
John nodded, his eyes flickering with a sense of determination. He wouldn't let a mining company stand in his way. He had a mission to complete, and he would do whatever it took to complete it.
As he walked through the now-opened gate and into the massive elevator, his mind raced with the information he had gathered. Rim Billiton was powerful, controlling the world's most valuable resource. But there were whispers of something more from the other surrounding nations, something that could be the key to his mission. He would have to investigate further, but he knew he had to be careful. For now, infiltrating their mining camps would be his main objective. While the possibility for danger was high, he had faced worse before. He was a Spartan and prepared to do whatever it took to complete his mission.
?/Steel Robot City/Rim Billinton
As he walked through the bustling streets of the mobile city, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. The sheer size and complexity of the city were astounding, and it was a testament to this mutated Humanity's ability to adapt to a world filled with Catastrophes.
The buildings were towering, their metallic surfaces gleaming in the bright sunlight. John could hear the hum of machinery and the chatter of people as he made his way through the crowded thoroughfare.
The streets were packed with the native people, this Cautus race, with rabbit ears in full display as they went about their day-to-day lives. However, John could make other races intermingled in the crowds, people with antlers, cat ears, and even some with scaley tails.
Tails.
He saw miners, their rugged clothing and equipment marking them as workers for Rim Billiton. He also saw traders, their wares ranging from food to weapons, and even some black market dealers selling illicit goods under the noses of the city's authorities.
John had to remind himself that he was here on a mission, and not just a tourist marveling at the sights. He had to keep a low profile and avoid attracting too much attention to himself.
It was just, different for the Spartan, to be in a still intact city that wasn't enduring a current crisis or alien invasion. To simply look at all the life surrounding him, merely living their lives.
But amidst the marvels of the city, there was a sense of unease that lingered in the air. John knew that beneath the glimmering facade of the city lay a world of greed, corruption, and danger. A company such as Rim Billiton didn't reach the level of expansion as they did without some skeletons inside their closet. He had to stay alert and keep his guard up at all times.
As he made his way from the city's outskirts toward its center, John tried to blend in with the crowds of people rushing about their daily business. But his Spartan physique made him stand out in the crowds, and he could feel some people's eyes lingering on him a little too long.
John adjusted his hood, hoping to obscure his helmeted features even more. But he quickly realized that trying to blend in would be futile. He was a Spartan, bred for battle, and trained for combat. He was meant to stand out, to be a symbol of hope and courage in times of crisis. He couldn't change who he was, and he didn't want to.
He noticed a few groups of Rim Billiton guards patrolling the area. They were heavily armed, their weapons gleaming in the sun. Despite not being armed with guns, John knew he had to be careful. Any wrong move could lead to a confrontation, and he didn't want to risk blowing his cover.
As he made his way deeper into the city, he noticed a group of people huddled together, their eyes fixed on something in the distance. John approached them cautiously, his hand resting on the pommel of his hammer.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice low.
The group turned to him, their eyes wary. One of them, a woman with pointed ears and a scaley tail, stepped forward.
"There's a commotion up ahead," she said, her voice tinged with fear and pity. "Something's happening in the market square. They say another person's been infected with oripathy, Margery's little brother."
John nodded, his mind racing. If there was trouble up ahead, he had to investigate. It could be a chance to gather more information about Rim Billiton and its inner workings.
He thanked the woman and pushed his way through the crowds, his senses on high alert. As he approached the market square, he could see a large crowd of people gathered in front of a small medical clinic. There were screams and cries of panic, and John could see a group of Rim Billiton guards trying to push their way through the throngs of people.
John pushed his way through the crowd. He didn't know what oripathy was, but he had a feeling it was something important he needed to see if it caused this type of reaction from the locals. As he reached the front of the crowd, he saw a crying young Cautus woman at the entrance of a clinic surrounded by Rim Billiton security guards. Clinging to her was a fearful little Cautus boy, his little hands grabbing fistfuls of his elder sister's dirty mining pants.
However, what caught John's gaze was underneath the boy's teary eyes, smattered on the side of his face, alongside his jawline.
Black crystals, not unlike the ore of originium he'd seen before, growing from the boy's skin.
The Rim Billiton guards had a firm hold of the woman's arms, and though she was trembling, she clung tightly to her younger brother. John watched as her eyes grew wide with fear and desperation as she begged the guards to let her take her sibling for medical attention. She yelled out plea after plea through gritted teeth, tears streaming down her face.
"Please don't take him! I can take care of him, I swear! Please, he's only a kid," she pleaded, her voice trembling.
The guards refused to budge and tightened their grip on the woman as they tried to take her brother away. She screamed out, "He's just a boy! He needs help, not to be taken away from his family. Please listen to me!"
She kicked and writhed in the guards' clutches. With each movement she made, the fear in her eyes grew more potent and profound. Her brother clung tightly to her neck as if his life depended on it; he buried his face in the nape of her neck and continued to sob, his rabbit ears folded underneath his sister's face. His cries pierced through the air like an alarm that could not be silenced until it was heard by everyone present at the scene.
Still, no one moved. In fact, some looked like they were even glad to see the boy being ripped away from his sister's arms.
The woman then shouted out louder than ever before, with anguish that seemed too heavy for a human heart.
Without hesitation, John stepped forward, mouth opening, ready to command them to let them go.
A hand grabbed the sleeve of his coat before he could, and when he looked down, he saw the offender to be another Cautus woman, who simply shook her head sadly.
"No, don't do that," she whispered. "It won't end well for you, especially since you're an outsider. These guards won't hesitate to use force."
John hesitated for a moment, but his instinct to help others kicked in. He had to do something.
"What's going on here?" he asked the woman, his voice low and urgent.
The woman sighed.
"This child has oripathy," she said, gesturing towards the little boy. "Rim Billiton doesn't allow infected people into their public facilities with the rest of the uninfected. They're trying to send him away to the infected block with the rest."
"They can't just cure him?"
The woman shook her head, a rueful smile on her face. "If only it were that simple, stranger. Oripathy is a death sentence. The best those infected can do is either work in the mines until they succumb to the disease or fall into despair. The poor child is doomed for an agonizing remainder of his life."
John's hand tightened into a fist, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the young boy, who was now crying harder, clinging to his sister as the guards got closer. He couldn't stand by and let another innocent life be destroyed by discrimination. He was a Spartan, and it was his duty to protect those who couldn't defend themselves.
"Spartan," Durandal spoke up warningly. "We cannot interfere. We'll jeopardize our mission if we do."
John shook his head, not taking his eyes off the child.
"This is a kid we're talking about," he growled. "We can't just stand by and do nothing."
Durandal sighed, it's monotone voice becoming softer but still holding a warning tone. "They will not be pleased if we interfere. Our mission must come first."
John gritted his teeth, but he knew Durandal was right. No matter how much he wanted to help the child, they had a mission that was more important. Potentially compromising it now would only not be an ideal choice, but might serve to make it even harder for him to reach the fragment, and he wasn't in a good enough condition for either.
Fighting against his instincts, he took a deep breath and forced himself to step back, his eyes still fixed on the child. He watched as the guards dragged the boy from the woman, their cries of protest falling on deaf ears.
Two Rim Billiton guards stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the woman's path. She clawed at their arms as she struggled to reach her younger brother, who lay slumped between them as he was dragged away. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to beg them to let him go so he could receive medical attention. Her desperate pleas were met with icy silence.
He couldn't help but feel guilty, like he was abandoning the innocent boy to his fate. But he knew that there was nothing more he could do without likely drawing the ire of the people here. He was already pushing his luck after the stunt with the booth attendant to let him gain access to the city. He had to focus on the mission at hand and not get sidetracked by his emotions.
Besides, these weren't his people—not his Humanity. John was not obligated to protect them like those he swore to protect.
And if what Durandal told him about what he'd done when he first awoke was true, they'd probably be better off without any form of protection he could offer.
He had been the reason why his Humanity had been wiped from the face of the galaxy, and that likely part of the reason why he was left behind on this planet.
To rot or to pay penance; he wasn't sure with these gaps in his memory.
And part of him didn't want to find out.
?/Steel Robot City/ En Route to Mining Facility 5/
Rim Billinton
John trudged towards the mining station Durandal had guided him to that was closest to the fragment signal, lost in thought. He had been walking for a while after the market square incident; his footsteps were the only noise that could be heard, aside from the faint sound from the distant mining station. With each step he took, the sound grew louder and louder until he finally reached it: a large complex of metal buildings that towered up into the sky like giants. He had no trouble identifying it - huge cranes dotted the peak of the buildings, their mechanical arms carrying heavy loads of ore across the platform.
Scanning his surroundings, John noted the various workers scurrying about their tasks with an air of exhaustion. His eyes caught movement on a nearby ledge – humans with rabbit ears, more Cautus, darting in and out of crevices as they helped shift debris.
"Excuse me," he called to a group of workers taking a brief respite from their labor. "Could you tell me where the mining foreman is?"
One of them eyed him tiredly, tipping up the helmet on his head. "Looking for work, eh? Well, I'll be. It's been a while since we had any new blood to break in recently. Don't think the big boss got time to see ya, no offense. You'd be better off talking to our shift supervisor."
John shrugged; that was fine with him. "Know where they're at?"
"Sure thing," the worker replied, pointing towards a tall, imposing Cautus in the distance. "That's Jarek – he oversees this entire section. Good luck getting him to talk, though. He doesn't take kindly to outsiders."
"Thanks," John said, offering a nod before heading towards Jarek. As he approached, he mentally prepared himself for a potentially difficult conversation. The fate of him finding the truth of what had happened depended on him navigating these tense encounters with strangers, earning trust while keeping his true intentions hidden.
"Jarek, I presume?" John asked when he reached the shift leader. The man's eyes narrowed as he assessed this unknown visitor.
"Who wants to know?" Jarek retorted, arms crossed defensively over his chest.
"Spartan," John replied, deciding to adopt a congenial approach. "I'm new in town and heard you might be able to help me find work."
"Work, huh?" Jarek eyed him skeptically. "What can you do?"
"Whatever needs doing," John answered firmly. "I'm strong, fast, and not afraid of hard work."
"Got a work visa?"
"Yes," He handed over the card the gate attendant had given him.
Jarek looked over it, before eying him skeptically.
"We don't usually hire outsiders. Especially ones dressed like... that." He waved a dismissive hand at his helmet, body suit, and coat combo. "Got your own tools, at least?"
"Got a hammer."
Jarek mulled it over for a moment before nodding reluctantly, handing back the visa. "Fine. We could use some extra hands around here. But if you mess up or cause trouble, you're out. You'll be assigned to Group Three, pick a cot at their bay. We form up for the day at six sharp tomorrow morning. Understand?"
"Understood," Master Chief agreed, inwardly relieved at how simple the interaction was—he guessed the mining facilities weren't too picky on hirlings, and needed whatever hands they could get. This job would give him access to the mines and get him closer to finding the fragment while avoiding suspicion. Now, he just had to keep his focus on the mission and suppress the growing concern he held for originium, and that uncurable 'oripathy' disease it caused – a worry that threatened to distract him from his true purpose.
As John made his way towards Group Three's bay, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was off. He had seen firsthand how the people in this town treated individuals who were different or infected, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of suspicion about how easily they accepted him. He understood Rim Billiton was, all things considered, a mining company the size of a nation. Still, he didn't think he'd be accepted that quickly, considering the issues he faced just trying to gain access to Steel Robot City.
When he entered the bay, John was quick to find an empty cot to unload his personal items, unloading his ruck against the head of it while keeping his hammer close to his side.
As he unpacked his stuff, he couldn't help but feel the time was running out as they still hadn't been able to pinpoint the fragment's location.
"Durandal," he said, activating the AI. "Any luck in finding that fragment yet?"
The AI hummed for a few moments before delivering its answer. "I'm afraid not," it replied. "Your helmet's scanners lack the necessary power to properly scan this area. The signal is strong, however."
John sighed; he had anticipated as much. If he'd had his proper MJOLNIR scanners, he'd already have a waypoint on his HUD to follow rather than having to deal with all this staggering in the dark. He thought for a moment, before an idea struck him.
"Do you think you'd be compatible with the technology here?"
"Have something in mind, Spartan?"
"There's a possibility of there being a mining scanner in this facility, to make sure they'd know where to start digging. Since it's buried, think you can use it to pinpoint the signal's frequency?"
"Hm," Durandal hummed. "Due to my decayed operability, I'll need manual access to the scanner. If you can find access to one, I should have no issues being uploaded into its terminal and using it to narrow down its location."
John nodded; that seemed like a viable plan.
"We'll do it tonight then, during lights out." he decided, glancing up at the clock by the entrance of the bay. "We'll have to move fast."
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed throughout the bay. John quickly stowed away his equipment, turning to face the source of the noise. It was a group of Cautus workers, led by Jarek himself.
"All right, listen up!" Jarek barked, his voice echoing across the room. "We got a new guy joining us today. He's been assigned to you guys in Group Three. Show him the ropes. Make sure he knows what he's doing."
The workers grumbled in response, clearly unimpressed by the new arrival. John could feel their eyes on him, sizing him up, and he knew he had to prove himself to them if he was going to fit in.
Jarek gave him a quick nod before turning and walking away.
"Good evening," John greeted with a slight nod as a few of the miners turned their attention toward him.
One of them, an older man with graying hair, looked him up and down.
"You the new blood, huh?" he asked, his voice gruff. "Got a name?"
"Yes," John replied with a nod. "I'm called Spartan."
The older man grunted in response. "Doesn't sound like much of a name. Name's Tom, the lead miner for Group Three. You got any experience mining?"
"Not much," John admitted. "But I'm a fast learner."
Tom raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing toward the hammer leaning by John's side. "We'll see about that," he said before turning away.
John suppressed a sigh as the workers dispersed, going towards their cots to unwind, their shifts now over. John took a deep breath, sensing his new colleagues' mistrustful and curious glances, their voices lowly, muttering of his strange appearance and quiet mannerisms before moving on to other topics. He knew he should've been playing his part - the new guy, eager to learn and willing to prove himself, but he wasn't here to make friends.
No, he had to focus, these people were just another obstacle in his way to his next objective, the mining scanners.
As he settled into his cot, John couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. As if someone was watching him.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots shuffling closer made him turn his head. A young Cautus man, another miner with Group Three, approached John, offering him a friendly smile.
"Caleb Flanagan," He introduced himself, holding out a hand. "I'm part of Group Three, too. Was actually the new guy till you came around. Don't mind the other's, Spartan. They're pretty decent once you get working with them. Until then, I thought you could use someone around here to show you around the facility and familiarize you with the common areas."
He paused, before continuing in a softer tone. "I know it can be overwhelming at first - I was exactly where you are when I started - but don't worry, everyone here is willing to help you out if you need it."
"An opportunity, Spartan," Durandal commented. "Perhaps you could get him to show you the location of the scanners?"
Even though he agreed, John still hesitated to accept the sudden offer. He eventually sat up on his cot to shake his hand with a polite nod. "Thanks."
Caleb grinned in response, and then motioned for John to follow him as other members of Group Three shuffled out.
"Come on," Caleb said. "Let's get you something to eat."
Slinging his hammer over his shoulder, John quietly followed Caleb by his side as they left the barracks and entered the canteen. The room was filled with miners eating dinner and exchanging stories from their shifts - some loud and boisterous while others more quiet and reserved.
Some of the chatter abruptly stopped when John and Caleb walked in, eyes turning toward them as they made their way to the food line.
John could feel the weight of their stares, and he made a conscious effort to ignore them. He knew he had to keep his guard up, but at the same time, he didn't want to come off as paranoid or suspicious. He grabbed a tray and started filling it with the food that was being served, mainly containing some kind of 'Fowlbeast' meat, grunting in acknowledgment as Caleb made small talk with some of the other miners.
As they found an empty table to sit down, Caleb started to ask him questions about his past. John kept his answers vague, not wanting to reveal too much about himself.
"Where are you from?" Caleb asked, taking a bite of his food.
"Here and there," John replied with a shrug. "I've been around."
Caleb raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the answer. "What brought you here?"
John hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Just looking for work, I guess."
Caleb nodded, seemingly accepting that answer. "Well, you're in luck. Rim Billiton is always looking for new workers."
John removed his helmet to eat, ignoring the insecurity he felt from the lack of Durandal's presence from his mind once the protective cover was removed.
Seeing the massive man's face, Caleb couldn't help but comment on his features, his various facial scars drawing his eye.
"What happened to your face?" Caleb asked, his curiosity piqued.
John paused, eyeing the younger man for a moment. He didn't like talking about his past or the scars that adorned his face, but he knew he had to play along if he wanted to keep himself in the friendly man's good graces.
"Long story," John said, his voice low and guarded. "Got caught in a few skirmishes back in my younger days."
Caleb nodded, understanding the implication behind John's words. "I see," he said before shaking his head. "Well, at least you're still here to tell the tale, Spartan. That's more than most of us can say. Besides, with how reclusive you lot are, I never thought I'd meet an Aegir way out here. Bet you've got stories for days."
Aegir.
Another designation to note.
John just nodded silently, and Caleb, sensing that John didn't want to talk about it, changed the subject.
"So, have you had a chance to explore the facility yet?" he asked.
John shook his head. "Not really. I've just been settling in."
"Well, there's a lot to see," Caleb said. "There's the main work area, the barracks, the gym, the medical bay, and the control room. But if you really want to see something interesting, I can show you the miners' quarters."
"The miners' quarters?" John asked, intrigued.
Caleb nodded. "Yeah, it's the recreational area where the miners go to unwind after a long shift. There's all sorts of things to do there - gambling, drinking, and even a few dancers if you're into that sort of thing."
John felt a twinge of unease at the sound of it, especially the dancers, as that sort of stuff wasn't really his thing. He had a job to do, and he couldn't afford to get sidetracked by distractions. But at the same time, he knew that he needed to blend in and gain the trust of his new colleagues.
"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Maybe later, though."
As they ate, John couldn't help but notice a group of isolated Cautus huddled together as they sat down at a table far away from the rest, their faces marked by pain and exhaustion. They were dressed in tattered clothing, many of them bearing the telltale scars of their work. Clearly, they had seen better days, their weary eyes reflecting lives filled with suffering.
"Who're they?" John asked, nodding towards the sickly miners.
Caleb followed his gaze before turning back to him.
"Them? They're the infected," Caleb replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Got oripathy from working in the mines. Nasty stuff, that. Best leave them alone."
"Oripathy?" John echoed, reminded of the scene with the siblings he had seen earlier today, studying the infected more closely. Their bodies seemed to be failing them, each movement a Herculean effort. Though, as some moved, their clothing adjusting with their moments, tiny black glints appeared on the exposed surface of their skin.
"Yep. Never seen one in person before, huh?" Caleb eyed him skeptically before he continued. "It's terminal. Contracted through either blood exposure to stray originium particles from the mines, or long-term exposure. Makes you grow black crystals on your skin, and it starts to mess with your insides. Eventually, they'll die and blow up into little originium particles, infecting anyone else nearby. Not much of a life, if you ask me."
That sounded awful.
Suddenly, John paused, his mind flashing back to the skirmish he had partaken in with the miners and their Sarkaz attackers.
How he had thrown a bundle of originium into the enemy's lines.
—Now that he thought about it, there were remnants of what seemed to be black dust that had been hovering around the camp. It was only once they faded, that they allowed themselves to make a new pot of food for the camp to dine in on.
Most of them had worn their masks during that time, while others, like Sergei, had either taken theirs off before the fight or had gotten it knocked loose during it. Occasionally, while he was treating the miners, he had seen the resigned look on their weathered faces.
Had I…?
A deep pit grew in John's stomach, almost enough to make him stop breathing as the implications of what he had done struck him to his core.
"…Heard there's no cure for it. That true?" Willing himself to relax as best he could, John couldn't help the hint of concern leaking into his voice.
"None that anyone's found yet," Caleb shrugged. "Some say it's only a matter of time. Others think we're all doomed. Me? I just try to keep my head down and get the job done. Though it sucks, having to share some of the common areas with them. I'd prefer it if the company just kept them away from us healthy folk, not trying to catch what they've got if I could help it."
John's frown deepened as he listened, his thoughts turning towards the infected miners. If exposure to originium was such a danger, why weren't they doing anything about it? Especially when it was the primary source of energy used in these people's day-to-day lives?
Setting the guilt he felt to the side, he made a mental note to investigate further when he got the chance.
As they finished their meal and left the canteen, John, his helmet back on, kept his eyes open for any signs of the scanners, but they were nowhere in sight. Caleb chattered on, pointing out various features of the facility, but John's attention was elsewhere. He needed to find those scanners, and he needed to do it soon before they would be sent to their barracks for the night.
As they walked, John couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over him. He had been in dangerous situations before, but this felt different. The constant threat of oripathy, the tense atmosphere among the healthy and infected miners, and the feeling that he was being watched by the residents were all adding up to make him feel on edge.
"Hey, you all right?" Caleb asked, noticing the change in John's demeanor.
John nodded, although he wasn't sure how convincing his act was. "Yeah, just a little tired."
Caleb nodded understandingly. "Yeah, it's about an hour until lights out. Best get a shower in and bunk down while we can."
John nodded in agreement, but decided now was better than any time.
"Question."
"Shoot."
"Is this facility equipped with mining scanners?"
Caleb raised a brow at what he must've considered an odd request. "In the control room, yeah. Next to the miner's quarters. They're a bit off-limits, though, unless you have clearance. Those are usually reserved for the senior leadership here, though."
John nodded in understanding, but he couldn't let that stop him from doing his job. He needed to find a way to get access to those scanners, even if it meant breaking a few rules.
As they made their way back to their barracks, John couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt like he was being watched. He kept his head down, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Caleb chattered on, oblivious to John's discomfort.
"We're lucky, you know," Caleb said, slowing down to match John's pace. "This is one of the better facilities. There are some that are practically made inside the mines themselves, live and breath work around the clock, you know? At least we have some amenities and live above ground here."
John grunted in agreement. He had seen worse mining facilities in his time, but he had never seen one so heavily guarded and secure as Rim Billiton.
They reached their barracks, and Caleb went to his bunk, leaving John to his own. As he entered, he noticed that a few miners were already asleep, their snores echoing in the otherwise silent room. He went to his bunk and sat down.
And waited.
?/Steel Robot City/ Mining Facility 5/Rim Billinton
Hidden in the shadows of the facility, John moved silently despite his huge stature, bypassing the languid guards patrolling the area as he did. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: getting access to the mining scanners.
Despite the darkness, John was able to navigate his way through the facility with ease. He had spent the time with Caleb studying the facility's layout, committing it to memory so he could move undetected.
As he stealthily made his way to the control room, John couldn't help but call out to his AI companion with something that had been churning in his head for a while now.
"Durandal."
"Yes?"
"Oripathy. What do you make of it?"
"Hm," He could almost feel the AI think. "Spartan, do you know what 'cancer' is?"
"Cancer?" John echoed the unfamiliar term.
"Yes, cancer. It's a disease that affects the body and causes abnormal growth of cells that can spread to other parts of the body. It's a bit like oripathy in that sense, but it's caused by different factors."
"How come I've never heard of it before?" John asked, still confused.
"Well, cancer had been a disease that plagued Humanity for centuries, but your people had found a cure for it decades after exploring the stars. However, before then, many types of cancer had been treated with chemotherapy, surgery, or radiation therapy. However, some types of cancer, like pancreatic cancer, had low survival rates even with treatment. It was a complicated disease that required decades of study to cure."
"I see," John said, mulling over the information. "So, oripathy is like this cancer, but caused by originium exposure?"
"Correct. Oripathy is a type of cancer that is caused by exposure to originium particles, affecting the cells to cause originium shard growth on the skin and inside the body. It seems to be a relatively old disease in these parts, and from the sound of it, there is still a lot to be learned about it."
John absorbed this information as he reached the control room, finding the door to be locked. "Digital lock, think you can hack it?"
"Press my data shard toward the lock, Spartan."
Extracting the crystal from his helmet, John did so, watching as the green glow from it faded before returning; the door unlocked itself within seconds with an audible click.
Reslotting the shard, John entered the control room, quickly making his way to the mining scanners. He had to be quick; he couldn't stay in one place for too long. The last thing he needed was to be caught.
As he approached the scanners, he noticed that there was a password prompt on the screen. John frowned, but simply removed Durandal's shard once more before pressing it against the terminal.
Once more, the shard's luminescent green glow faded, and John watched as the password prompt disappeared, the mining scanner's interface appearing on the screen before data began to scroll rapidly through the screen as the AI worked its magic.
Watching as lines of code flashed across the screen, John squashed the growing anxiety he felt as the seconds passed with him exposed. He knew that he was on a tight schedule. He didn't have much time to waste, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught and be labeled as a corporate spy.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the data stopped scrolling, and a beep echoed across the room, signaling the end of the scan. The data crystal glowed green once more.
Durandal's voice broke through the silence as John slotted him back into his helmet. "I've got it. I've calculated the approximate coordinates of one of the fragments, pinpointing its location on your HUD. Beware, though, the location is deep in the mines. It would probably be best to maintain your cover as a miner to gain access to it in the morning."
John felt relieved, one step closer to his objective. "Thanks, Durandal."
"Yes, but that's not all," Durandal replied. "Going through the mining site's data banks, I've come across some interesting information. It seems the natives of Bastion call it Terra instead. Also, they share a calendar system similar to ours. It's currently the March 4th of the 1077th year on record."
Terra?
That was considered another name for Earth his people used once space travel became widespread, last he remembered.
But that couldn't be right. Earth was a planet that was inhabited by humans, not these genetically modified ones, and it was likely light-years away from the system this Shield World resided in.
John's mind was racing. What did this mean? Was it just a coincidence, or was there a connection between Earth and Bastion? He needed to learn more about what was happening in this Shield world. He had so many questions, but he had to push them aside for now. He had the information to the AI fragment; now, he needed to get out of there and back to the barracks before anyone caught him.
Filing the information for later, John nodded as he snuck his way back out of the control room.
"Also…" Durandal began again. "I came across a second signal coming from the vicinity of the fragment. It was extremely faint, however. I can not ascertain the certainty of its existence."
Perturbed by the AI's hesitance, John spoke up. "What is it?"
The AI's following words made his blood run cold.
"A Spartan signal."
A/N:
Yup, we're in the Arknights year of 1077, about 20 years before the main game's events. The same year as the Sarcophagus findings, which was sent to Chernobog for research, and the subsequent Purge that happened soon after with Kal'sit's research team. The same year of Kashchey's Invasion of Lungmen, Patriot's creation of his Shieldguards, and more. 7 years before the Kazdel civil war and the formation of Babel. And 17 years before the formation of Rhodes Island. The lore is pretty expansive. For those that need a recheck on the history or never played Arknights beforehand for reference, all in the timeline events of then are shown on the Official Fandom.
Also, supposedly Misha and Alex were alive during this time in 1077.
How the hell?
I thought they were still kids or teens by the time the main story happens, not adults. Someone please explain cuz I'm confusion. Are they just small for their age? Just want to clear some things up so I can move forward without causing confusion on either side with how I want to do some things.
And for those who are concerned about Endfield lore being integrated into the story, relax, please. It's set 500 years after Arknights, so unless there's something in the game that pertains to the story, which I've heard it's trying to distance itself from due to the amount of time that had passed, there might not be much to put here.
It's crazy, to find out that the Angelina we have in Endfield is actually some type of clone made from her genetic data.
Anyway, stay safe out there y'all.
Please feel free to review.