A/N: Slight naming issue with the end of the previous chapter.
New Mombasa
Earth
NMPD ( New Mombasa Police Department ) Headquarters Complex
UNSC Marine Corps/Army Joint Task Force
Limited reinforcement by ODST Drop Squad Alpha-9
Arrival of ONI Covert Detachment Xiphos ODC ( Orbital Drop Capable )
If Dutch had a penny for every wrench that ONI had thrown at the heads of the rank and file, he could've bought this town. Or, at least its ritziest neighborhood, and then built a few 100-story skyscrapers on that newfound property.
Seriously...it was the one thing they did better than anyone else-aside from spending every waking hour hidden better than Atlantis, only to jump out of the shadows like a Xenomorph, throwing their weight around...
Such as now. But it was worse than usual, as if having ONI personnel jamming the works like gum trapped between gears didn't qualify. Which it absolutely did, needless to say. Even a rawhide barely a week out of basic knew ONI couldn't be trusted, and the newest ground pounder they had ( as much as Dutch knew, anyway ) was Kivec- and he was a Private First Class ! Not even the lowest of the low, and even he knew.
Still, it was the only kettle of fish they'd been assigned to cook, so Dutch would ensure this motley band of cooks could handle it. Captain Westfield was doing a pretty good job of that on his own, sure...but with ONI shadows having contaminated the whole Op, he'd need all the help he could get.
One way, or the other...because when it came to ONI, the only course of action was: expect betrayal/ stupid bureaucracy ( which was an extreme example of redundancy ) at a minimum.
" Is that so, Trooper ?! ", the ODST Major countered-proving the point with just 4 words. His visor remained polarized, though nearly every word was dripping with suspicion. Maybe even hostility, actually. It wouldn't be much of a stretch if ONI stooges were all like that-always suspicious of everyone , and viewing them all as " security threats " that couldn't be trusted with anything resembling the full story.
Basically, they were paranoid, arrogant, and morally bankrupt-which was saying something, given that the Covenant were 2 out of 3 of those themselves. Only real difference was that ONI wouldn't shoot you through the face.
Just the back.
Best to remember that, Dutch habitually reminded himself, as he stood his ground against what was the ONI man's idea of a pining stare-which, honestly, it /wasn't, but he didn't need to know that.
Taste of his own medicine, if nothing else . Whether it mattered, or not.
Alright then...
Let's cut through the layers of malarkey you've brought with you...
Cast the lure.
" Name ' Captain Veronica Dare ' mean anything to you...sir ? ", the senior of the ODSTs present pressed.
Keeping outright derision out of his voice wasn't easy- especially on the " sir "-, but somehow, he managed it, which was impressive. Given how often he'd been royally screwed over/used ( or both ) by the likes of ONI over the past two decades, that was no minor feat. It took about as much effort to pull off as pulling off band-aids from his scabbed knees when he was 7, and even by that metric, it was pretty hard.
That, and why he was bothering to play nice with these clowns anyway. Only the distant reminder that it might give them ammunition down the line to roast him like a Texas BBQ later ( which they definitely would do, because they were petty weasels by nature )
"
Harder ? Like we're agents..
Just a hint of that idea was pure compost heap material, but Dutch knew better than to say it out loud. These ONI Operatives...they were notoriously sensitive and touchy-
" Like we're agents...sir ".
What the- ?
...It was like someone had literally read his mind word for word, then said it out loud-with a Canadian accent ! More importantly, though...a particular Canadian accent that Dutch knew well enough by now so he wouldn't mistake it for anyone else's..
As close to getting caught off guard that any ODST could get by it, Dutch glanced over, and found the young PFC standing his ground before the surly Major. The kid's expression ( and more importantly, overall attitude ) eerily rivalled that of many a rawhide that Dutch had seen at the end of their first day of the absolute grinder that was the ODST Training Pipeline...
Defiantly stubborn. Subtly angry. All of it surprised, like a current of lava under a thin sheet of metal, but if you knew what to look for , it was there. If you'd been around the block long enough, you'd know. And...pretty much everyone on Alpha-9 ( with the exception of Mikey, that shifty guy...) qualified on that front.
It was because of that hard-earned experience that Dutch knew what could easily happen if he didn't do or say a thing within the next second-
" What was that-?! "
...And, it was just barely before the window of opportunity closed. The visibly offended ( another hallmark of ONI hyenas ), and clearly " Did you just mouth off to a superior officer ?! Like me ?! " Major was bristling like a hedgehog, and was probably a hair trigger away from verbally exploding at the kid so hard, it'd humiliate even the most sadistic Marine basic training sergeant.
Something that nobody who'd ever been through Basic ever thought was possible...ever.
Anyway...Dutch couldn't stay out this any longer. On a quieter day, he'd be tempted to let the kid learn the hard way not to shoot off at the mouth to someone with brass on their collar, but this was about as distant from " quiet " as you could get. Besides...it was technically that Major's fault anyway. Too much stowed frustration , and too much power handed to him had done that. Just like with most ONI creeps...
Typical...
Well...ok, then.
Unto the breach.
Stepping forward a few paces, the skull-decorated ODST combined a rigid hold on the kid's shoulder, with an equally firm yank backwards, and finally, a loud and disciplined, " That's on me, sir. This Private is my responsibility. We're both just carrying out the orders we got from ONI Captain Dare. Don't' know where she is, though, so we're here. That's it. "
It was as close to kowtowing as any ODST worth his salt would ever get- and something told Dutch that was lost on this bully, so he wouldn't even get to enjoy it ! Sad, but...at least it did the job.
Shorthand for it being: defusing the tension- marginally, though, but defusing nonetheless. The ONI officer was still glaring daggers for another couple of seconds, and Kivec wasn't exactly looking extra-cheerful himself, but...after another few cardio pulses gone by, the real outcome of Dutch asserting some of that ODST-brand of decisiveness ( the kind that set women weak at the knees...which would've worked, most likely, had this been Dare he was confronted with ) finally became clear. His jaw finally set ,with a distinctive " So be it " kind of way, and what he had to say next was a terse ( but it could be worse ) sounding, " Is that so, Trooper ? "
For a penny, for a pound...
Go for it.
" Sir, yes sir ". The ODST didn't give a millimeter. He knew better than that.
As did, not shockingly, The Rookie. Dutch could still see him standing nearby, just a yard away, and clearly poised to speak at any second. It like like a hungry tiger, ready to strike, but not doing so without the actual order to do so. Pure loyalty to a fellow ( and senior ) Helljumper, and a ( healthy, and universal ) distrust of anything ONI was keeping him there..
Silent. Barely even moving. But, clearly on a hair trigger, and ready for action - as any true ODST should always be.
The Major was silent for another second, expression as hard and as unreadable as the stone faces of that ancient-but-still-dignified moment known as Mt. Rushmore, but finally opted to let the whole thing for ( for the moment ), by bluntly stating, " Then if he gets out of line again, its your neck as well. Fortunately, we have our own mission here, and it doesn't concern you. "
Between the savage matter-of-fact way he'd said it, and the touch of emphasis on " You ", it was pretty clear he expected at least this to freeze the ODST ( or, at least everyone else ) dead, and stop them from going with- obviously, because ONI didn't trust anyone except themselves, go figure .
But, either he'd forgotten that ODSTs were made of sterner stuff, or that they had that effect on everyone around them, or both, because Captain Westfield was next to muscle though and get a point across. " Major- these Troopers are still under orders from an ONI officer to conduct an operation at their behest ! The only reason they're right here, at all, is because they lost all contact with them. If they got word to you about it, though...these men are ready to roll. Otherwise, they stay with me. "
Nice...
..Against an ONI shadow, though ? Questionable.
Don't count on it...
A wise mentality to have...and mixed with some divine providence...it might actually work.
Maybe...
" ..What was this Captain Dare's Section, then ? ", Junhai demanded, by way of response. Tersely delivered as ever, but maybe not quite as hostile.
Definitive word being "quite ", needless to say...
" Section One, if I remember right ", drawled the skull-armored ODST. " That's all she told us. ONI ain't big on details. You would know. "
" And for good reasons, Trooper ", the Major tersely ( as per usual now ) responded , with an edge that unmistakably signaled he'd lectured someone on this topic well over more than once. The final component for constructing a full-fledged ONI operative, without a doubt.
Dutch mentally scoffed at the flair of arrogance, but as for what to say out loud, he hit back with he knew would get under an ONI shadow's skin: a nonchalant, " Yeah...sounds about right. "
Satisfying, sure, but what effect it had was impossible to gauge, as the Major just coldly ignored it ( on the face of it, at least ), and turned to the pretty, freckle-faced woman who'd dropped with him. " Gunnerson ! Run that back with the command staff. See if they can verify it "
He momentarily returned his attention to the assemblage of Marines, Soldiers, and the big ODST with the Skull-decorated armor arrayed loosely ahead of him, like a pack of bison waiting for the order to charge, with his tone now taking on a firm ( yet lecturing ) form: " If word comes down that your story checks out, we'll clear you. Otherwise, you'll be violating Code 12, Subsection A of the UNSC Uniform Code of Military Security. "
What is this- Middle School all over again ?!
Basic Training, maybe ?
At random points behind him, uneven murmurings of frustration rose from the enlisted personnel- a pretty common thing from them whenever and wherever ONI was concerned. And that would be on normal day...which, for anyone serving the UNSC over the past 30 years, equaled locking horns with a horde of murderous aliens who could burn whole planets from orbit. That was normal for them...and now, aside from having it burying them all over again on their own homeworld, they had their own spy agency trapping them under a rock during all of it !
No wonder there were a lot of angry twitches going on on more than a few faces that Dutch could see. Ones slicked like melted metal by the still-falling rain, and with patches of dust and grime stuck to them because of it. They looked like...
...Well, they looked like they'd just spent the whole day fighting the Covenant. Training and discipline had taken over, and they just wanted to get back to it, because that's what they were trained for. It's what they were used to, after more than a quarter century of slugging it out with them.
Its all they knew...
...And here was ONI, doing what they did best: pulling rank, pushing everyone around, and showing more concern for all their " classified " plans and data than the troops on the ground who were risking it all. If anything could push your everyday groundpounder over the edge, this was it.
It even seemed that might actually happen pretty soon, from the charged vibe coming off of all of them.
"...Oughta just storm those doors, Trooper..."
Dutch didn't move his head, but he acknowledged the Canadian anyway, with a slight nod. He got it. The kid was buried under a lot of anger right now, and he wasn't getting tipped over the edge by ONI's stupidity any less than anyone else. Atypical of a Canadian, sure, but then again...beware the rage of a patient man and all that.
Yeah...definitely a candidate for the ODST pipeline. For sure. Again, Dutch mentally put that down on the list of things that needed mentioning to the brass. A recommendation from a ODST who had over a dozen combat drops was exactly the kind of thing that carried weight.
Don't crash my expectations of you, kid...,
The more right guys we can find , the better
As if to prove that all ODSTs do operate from a collective hive mind, The Rookie spoke aloud right then: " Its a good plan, Marine. Hold your horses till these creeps push our buttons, though. That'll give us an excuse.."
...Now, I know you belong as well, James.
As if I didn't already. Just keep setting an example for the kid, ok ?
On that front, thankfully, things were going about as well as they could. Kivec was keeping his head on straight...mostly. He was keeping a lid on it for now, but...Dutch doubted it would for long. Either ONI had come clean, and quick...or
" Major ! Sir..! "
Back came the female XO right then, jogging quick through the puddles of rippling rainwater " Sir ! "
" What do you have for me, Gunnerson ?! ", the Officer briskly responded. From the way he'd pivoted toward her, it might as well have been that everyone else literally didn't exist.
The pretty-yet-tough 2nd came to a halt right by his side, then canted her head toward the sky- as if there was a Prowler over there, watching them. Probably could've been, actually.
" Ok, so..."
There was the briefest of pauses, then: " Command confirmed that Operative Dare did commandeer Alpha-9, the ODST unit that Trooper Miles is assigned to. They didn't share the exact details of the mission objectives, but what Trooper Miles told us checks out. ONI had OPCON of them...till they lost contact with Operative Dare during the drop. "
" Less of a drop, and more of a cluster, ma'am ", the aforementioned Trooper clarified. " We couldn't get any more scattered if we'd planned it that way. "
Probably the only thing we can't outright blame ONI for...
That pulse would've hit us whether we'd been aiming for the carrier or not.
Still...it brought us here. For better...or worse.
"...Like the paratroopers of old ", the ONI ODST known as Gunnerson observed, with a tone that Dutch could've sworn actually signaled respect. Not much, but still some.
Still, it was more than they were getting from the Major , who had once again gone pretending they weren't there as he listened to his subordinate.
Nodding slightly to demonstrate he had heard it all, the Officer didn't wait long to press her for the rest of it. " Codes, Gunnerson ? "
There was a momentary blink from the other shadow, but she quickly got it together, and answered. " ...Yes, sir ! "
" I'll send them now, if you're ready. "
" Roger that. Open channel..."
..You serious, " sir " ?!
This kind of red tape ? Here, and now...?!
Good Lord...
Things were beginning to feel just a bit bureaucratic. Just a bit. But, that was pretty poison to any ODST, or even the rank and file Marines. Dutch was actually compelled to just...turn his back on the bunch of shadows right then, as the creeping sense of annoyance and frustration was getting pretty high even for him. The whole situation had gotten pretty absurd by this point, and there weren't any options for how to get the whole show back on track- basically, actually heading underground, alone or with the shadows ( ill-advised as that probably was ) . That's what they were here for, after all. That's what they'd risked life and limb for, given that he still had 0 clue where on God's Earth Gunny Buck, or Romeo, or...or even that new kid, the rookie who'd joined them aboard the Say My Name just before they'd dropped !
Still didn't what the heck'd happened to him. Where to look for him, or any of the others. The only even remote chance he had to track them down, and get Alpha-9 back together again was seeing things through with the mission Westfield and co had OPCON'd him for...and ONI was a barricade to that.
Must've done something awful during a past life to earn this...!
Seriously: We're just twiddling our thumbs here...
ONI. The Covenant might've been genocidal and carrying on a fetish for burning planets, but ONI was just as bad...minus the planet burning, that is.
" Trooper ! "
Oh, right...
Back to it
Exhaling a huff of accumulated frustration, Dutch reoriented to face the one who'd called him: The Major again, who was actually beckoning to him now.
Could be worse..
Could've pointed. That'd just be asking for it.
" Sir ? "
" Good news ...". The way the officer spoke those words sure didn't imply he thought it was, but anyway...
" You're cleared ", he clarified. " Which is good news for you, frankly. We're headed underground , and if that's the way you're headed...you're now authorized to accompany us. However, we cannot divulge the exact details of our exact objective. Are we all clear on this ? "
For God's sake...
What is this ? A spy movie ?
Give me strength...and patience
Channeling at least some of that resentment, the ODST ground his molars, but soon enough replied.
" Been ready to roll, sir. Let's do this. "
He didn't know if that was the " right " response, but he hardly cared. He knew the regs. It wasn't dissing an officer, and said regs didn't spell out ass-kissing of an ONI shadow...so he wouldn't.
You wanna screw around even more fighting me on this ? I take my orders from the Corps, you weasel.
Don't push me...don't do it
If only he could send those thought right where he wanted them to go...if only. Still, the following , " That will do " from the Shadow was about as close as that would get, so..
Yeah. Good enough.
At least, they could finally get going now. Finally. Finally...they could get going.
" We done here, Major ? "
Westfield pushed ahead again, clearly not caring that the " question " could've counted as a demand. Unmistakably, he was done with all this ONI malarkey as well, and Dutch couldn't have been more grateful.
That, and real freaking proud.
" Got to get moving, sir..! "
"..Then get your unit organized, Captain ! ", the Shadow ordered, as he turned away to ( presumably ) do the same. " Security procedures take precedent, but that's been taken care of. Understood ? "
" Roger that, sir, but like Trooper Miles said: Been ready. "
Asserting his authority even more, the ( Non-shadow ) Officer shifted gears, and began to addressed his assembled ( though slightly scattered and spread out, to cover the square ) charges, raising his voice despite the constant pattering of the rain.
" Ok, everyone ! Ears ! "
At. Freaking. Last.
Now...this was something that was suited for an ODST. None of that ONI spy garbage-just straight, honest groundpounder work. At this point, it was one of the few things that sustained him anymore, aside from his faith, and thinking of Gretchen...
Between them , though, he had enough to keep going, as fresh activity burst among the soldiers and Marines here. He could detect and spot it among all of them, as well: They were finally getting back to why they were here at all:
To fight. That was their purpose. It wasn't about what anyone wanted or didn't want- it was about what they knew they were here to do, and they'd already had enough of getting stonewalled by ONI, and their dumbasss cloak and dagger shenanigans...and while the Covenant were contaminating the place ! As if it wasn't bad enough already, which it was.
Not anymore, though, thank God. Back to business, at last..
" Squad leaders ! Check all ammo counts, and get your gunners at the front !", Westfield continued. " At the front, understand ? We're headed underground, and that means there's a good chance we'll meet some Drone swarms ! I want those M739's fully loaded and ready before then, understand ?! "
" Yes, sir..! "
" Understood, sir..! "
And, so on, went the acknowledgments. They came from everywhere, and from everyone-the now-surly-Canadian Kivec wasn't any exception, either, and his " You got it , sir ! " had the kind of oomph behind it that was worth of an ODST, and then some. After all of this, Dutch was beginning to suspect he just didn't want to apply for the ODST Pipleline-maybe he preferred it here, among the rank and file versions of his fellow Jarheads. Assuming he didn't want to apply at all, that was..
Worth a thought, but it'd have to wait. For the moment, there was things that needed taking care of- the opposite, basically, of what ONI was all about.
A hint of a wolfish grin- just a hint- found itself tugging at the corner of his mouth...though, thankfully, it was hidden from the others by the polarized state of his visor. They didn't need to know, just yet, that ODSTs could smile as just like them.
Yet..anyway.
Maybe once they'd gotten to know him better, they would-
" Trooper ! ", called the Marine Captain who'd led them here. " Trooper Miles ! Front and center ! "
Looking around for that officer, Dutch found him already on approach, with his MA5C having been pulled off his back, and now held at the ready. " Trooper..."
He finally arrived, and stopped. " Trooper ! Have you seen Lt. Rahman anywhere ?! "
...Not quite what the ODST had been expecting, but anyway. Questions ( legit questions, none of that ONI trash ) from a superior were questions from a superior, so he answered it as best he knew how . " ..That's a negative, sir. "
Actually, come to think of it, his own conscious mind now pointed out to him..
...Yeah, actually, that's a dang good question.
...Seriously, it was. Somehow, it'd slipped his head right until this point, and now that he was thinking of it, there was a sudden flash of frustration- at himself. He should've been more aware, frankly. If it hadn't been for those ONI shadows, jamming the whole operation with their precious " secrets "...
Now newly focused , he quickly panned his field of view around, but didn't spot her among the fresh flurry of activity as the men ( and a few women, like Jackson ) set about prepping to head for the tunnels. Her face was definitely one of the few he recognized ( especially given that he hadn't known her that long..), but...no.
No, it wasn't there.
What the...?
A mild, but slowly growing sense of confusion, and concern, began to spread through him. Selfishly, he had to admit that was annoying ( ODSTs hated anything that confused them, however slight ), but there wasn't anything he could do about it.
At least, he reminded himself, he still cared.
" Wasn't she on the left flank ? ", the ODST asked, glancing around again. " Last saw her there..."
" That's affirmative ".
Frowning, the Captain nodded to confirm. " Just checked myself, and now she's out of sight...just like that... "
"..Need me to go hunt her down, sir ? " , offered Dutch. He knew, that by saying so, he was violating the cardinal rule of the enlisted man ( " Don't volunteer for anything " ), but that didn't matter- because he'd already violated it years ago by volunteering for the ODSTs anyway. He might as well go 2 for 2...
Especially for someone who'd seemed like she was worth her salt.
The Marine Officer must've been thinking the same thing, and what he had to say next, after a few seconds of biting his lower lip and clearly running though available options proved it:
"...Do it, Trooper. Find Private Kivec, and sweep the perimeter. Her own unit is already out there doing the same thing- I sent 'em there. Lend them a hand, and be thorough , but remember: We're on the clock here. "
He bit his lip again, not finishing the sentence , but...Dutch knew where it was going.
" Leave nobody behind " was a noble sentiment , and it was one that the UNSC had lived by as best it could for the past 26+ years, but...here and now, it might not be an option. They'd have to linger here for God knows how long, and even though it'd only been about 10-15 minutes from when the ONI shadows had touched down till now, this was still a Covie-contaminated town. All of New Mombasa was still crawling with them, and not stick around any one place for longer than they needed to was pretty much their only chance to stay ahead of any chance of getting swarmed.
Even if...they had to actually feed someone to the Covies.
Unthinkable.
Yet...they might not have the choice, if this couldn't get taken care of fast. That was the fine print that Westfield didn't want to say, and that Dutch didn't blame him for. Officers had to make choking calls like that on the regular- no need to salt the wound.
He'd just take care of it. Like ODSTs were wired to do.
Without depolarizing visor, Dutch nodded- a different nod, though, than before.
Decisive. Firm. Directed.
"...Understood, sir. "
" If she's here...we'll find her. "
10 years ago
Outer Colony world of New Chile
Province of Santiago
10:30am, local clock
CRMMMMM !
CRMMMM !
CRMMMM !
...It was still there.
...The Scarb.
It was still out there.
CRMMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
It.
CRMMM !
Was.
CRMMM !
Still
CRMM !
Out.
CRMMM !
There.
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMMMM !
As if that set of thunderclap-loud footsteps of a combat robot that probably weighed 200 tons stomping around barely a thousand yards away could get mistaken for anything else. Which it couldn't...
Same went for the horrible Eeeeeaayahhh screeching, wailing noise that spilled from it as it moved with those planet-shaking steps. That was...that was actually worse of a racket than the stomping. Way worse. It sounded so nastily haunting and eerie, even for an alien death machine.
Emphasis, on death machine..
...That right there, explained why Corporal Rahman wasn't watching it go past. Only listening.
Just. Listening. All she could see was the rain-muddied ground all around her- and the MARPAT camo fatigues of the dead Marine she was currently half-buried under. That's what she could see.
...That's all she could see.
As for what she could hear...it wasn't even just the bone-jarring, ground-quaking shockwaves from the giant Scarab walking off ( even though that was most of it, for certain ) that was filling her ears. It was also her own pulse. The blood was absolutely booming through her ears, as a steady thrub thub, thrub thub thrub thrub thrub thrub drumbeat that wasn't slowing down, and so much so that she was actually getting pretty dizzy from it.
Thub
It wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop, as long as she stayed put here.
But, that the other side of the coin: She couldn't move.
..Well, technically, she couldn't, but she couldn't muster the will. Or the nerve. Or...anything. Her whole body was either so numb it might as well have been made from rubber, or she was still convinced that the Scarab would spot her after just a handful of seconds after leaving cover..
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMMM !
CRMM !
CRMM !
CRMM !
..Then it would find her.
And it would kill her. Vaporized and burned to just powdery ashes.
Just like everyone else from her Company. Like the ones who were lying dead all around her. The one who's remains were currently shielding her was a rare exception.
Emphasis on rare...from what she remembered of the ambush.
Which wasn't much, frankly. Except that it'd happened quicker than a lightning strike...and that was pretty much it.
Now...it was over. There was still the thudding of the Scarab's stride, and the booming of her own blood going her head, but aside from that, there was nothing. The field was silent otherwise.
But, as long as that first sound was still auidable, Rahman wasn't moving. She'd decided that, a while ago. She wasn't moving. She would stay here, hidden...
Safe. Numb, yes, and cold ( from shock-caused chills, or the weather ? She couldn't say ), pressed under the weight and bulk of a corpse-but she wouldn't leave this spot. Not till that giant death robot was gone.
Not.
Till.
It.
Was.
Gone.
Unknown number of minutes later
...Eventually, thirst would get her, if she didn't move.
..Well, that was slightly a stretch. She'd have to stay here for literal days for that to happen, but she was so thoroughly pinned down by fear , that there was a slice of her mind that was still encouraging her to stay put. It wouldn't let go...of what she'd been through.
Biting her lower lip, she was hit yet again by a mini-tsunami of the bleeding raw, painful-as-salted-wound memories of what had happened. By sheer reflex, she fought back to stop it, but it was a lost cause to succeed 100 percent. It just wasn't...and the resulting mental flashes of Suzercki and Taylans getting literally vaporized from solid masses of flesh and bone to just equally literal clouds of res mist nearly broke her all over again.
" Hhh..! "
A gasp of air came through her badly dirt-caked lips, and a slightest of tears trickled from one eye. She squeezed both of them tightly shut, as if it would help stop the memories.
It didn't. Nothing would...not yet.
As if that wasn't enough, the older problem of needing water ( eventually ) wasn't going away either. She'd have to move sooner or later from that reason alone. She'd have no choice...
Unless that Scarab was gone. If it was...then...she could chance it.
She just had to calm down that pounding blood from her pulse so she could hear straight enough to know...
" Hhhhh...hhhhhhhh"
By nothing but what willpower ( and self-preservation ) she had left, Rahman willed herself to breathe with only shallow breaths. Again...wasn't a 100 percent success rate, but...close enough. Better than nothing, and eventually, it did work.
Barely. Good enough, though...for now.
Next...came standing.
Even that, though, basic as it sounded, took a while. It was the logical next step, but that crippling fear was literally like cold molasses, the way it slowed her down. Every movement was slugghish, labored-
And ghoulishly haunting, the way she had to push the dead Marine who'd body had been hiding her off of her to do any of this. She hadn't thought that through either, but...it'd worked, hadn't it ? At least to some level, it must've...
She was still here, after all.
...Which was more than could get said for everyone else, though.
"...Hh...hh..."
"...Oh, God..."
...That, was all she could say. Nothing more, and nothing less. It was all she to offer, as she looked around..
Looking for any familiar faces among all the sheer, mind-of-a-serial-killer carnage, even though she knew they weren't living ones...
And just saw death. Nothing else. Everywhere around her, she only saw the remains of the rest of the unit-which wasn't much. They'd been hosed down ( literally, except it hadn't been water they'd been hit with ) with beams of plasma/ some kind of energy hot enough to melt solid rock, after all, so most of them hadn't left anything behind much larger than gouged out craters who's sides were completely just scorched glass from all the heat. Some, though, had managed to avoid the worst of it-only to get caught by near misses from the Scarab's top cannon, which, while it wasn't quite as hyper lethal as the front one..
Still was more than strong enough to blast whole pieces of you clean off. An arm, a leg...maybe more. For Taylans...it was more. She'd lost one of both, which were completely missing.
Suzerki had gotten an even rougher treatment-whole lower torso was gone for him, legs and all. The only visible trace that it was even him at all was the coiled snake tattoo he'd been sporting on his right forearm. That was still here. Not much else was, but...that was.
"...hk...They...they just..."
"...They killed us. They just killed us...like...we were nothing. "
Every syllable cracked like a Minnesota road year round, and shook like a plywood shed hit by a tornado. It was mile beyond her control...
Hundreds, maybe. As was her ( lack of ) ability to...stop looking at the scene of utter and total slaughter.
Rahman couldn't pull her gaze away- as much as she desperately, feverishly wanted to. But, she couldn't. It was like two opposing magnets pulling on her to do different things, and neither was strong enough to overcome the other. All it actually did, was freeze her even more.
Sucked air from her lungs, and chilled her blood. Everything...literally everything was dead. The surrounding jungle looked like someone had dropped a tanker's worth of gasoline all over it, then set it on fire...then ran a bulldozer through it. Every tree, shrub, vine, and blade of grass that hadn't been burned to literal cinders and ashes was charred like an overdone steak so badly, that the deep jade green they should've been was outright erased. Gone.
More than half the trees were craters as well ( just like...everyone from Haybale Company ), and the handful that were left were badly bent and twisted, like a bunch of matchsticks snapped by the hand of a giant. Most were just stumps, or had been bisected, or were missing any variety and number of limbs...etc. Clouds of wood smoke still hung above them, as well as twisting wisps of more from the splintered, shredded , and burnt remains of what had been a lush, picturesque, postcard-worthy jungle.
Not anymore, though. It was just a graveyard now.
Just a crude, bloody cemetery. With no caretaker, and only one visitor.
Oh...and the architect of it all. But, that thing was off on the horizon by now...
Rahman wasn't looking for it, specifically ( Which, shouldn't be a surprise. The metal monster had carried out this whole slaughter , after all ), but...the thing was literally the size of a multi story building and as purple as an eggplant. It was kind of hard to miss.
...Also, it couldn't seem to miss anything it shot at, either.
Except for one.
Just one, and only one. All alone...
Amid the detritus, smoking debris, and the scores of corpses, ash heaps...gore. Barely any blood, though. The absolutely searing, sun-hot heat from the Covenant energy weapons had cooked that off long ago.
Just the remains...and the smoke...and of course, the raw scent of burned vegetation, and ozone. Wood smoke, melted composite armor...
And worse.
They were, all of them, the only companions to Rahman now, as the Scarab butcher began to vanish over the horizon of New Chile. There wasn't a sunset or sunrise for it to go through- just the pale glow of the thick overcast layer of cloud cover that was so complete, that the sun might as well not exist at all.
On numbed ( painfully so ) legs, with her breathing still coming only as rasping, grating gasps, and with the whole world just...throbbing back and forth around her as if the pounding blood through all her veins was actually shaking the planet.
She could barely stand, and barely even think. Nothing made sense anymore, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. Nothing at all...
What did, anymore ?
Her company- all of them- lay dead around her. The glint of what pale sunlight that was getting though glinted off their armor plating, and glowed like beacons- cruelly reminding Rahman that she was all that was left. They lay there, covering the bodies of the rest of Haybale Company as they remained where they had fallen- scattered all over, lying dead where they'd gone down amid a hail of screaming, roiling energy and fire.
A tide of pure, unfiltered death that'd left behind only one. Only Rahman.
Her, and only her.
Present Day
New Mombasa
" Hhhhh...hhhh...hhhh"
"hhh...hhheeeahh..."
Fingertips clawing through her hair, and knees pulled close to her chest, the sole survivor of the Haybale massacre finally emerged from the past.
...God alone knew how long it'd been. How long she'd been pulled backwards through the years by those unspeakable memories-but, then...that's how they worked, didn't they ? Bad memories...they truly were like hellspawned demons, given how they seemingly had minds of their own. Whenever it suited you the least, and whenever you were needed by others the most, that's when they struck. That was when they emerged from the dungeon of your mind, and pulled you, kicking and screaming, back to when they'd first come to visit.
Like now, for example.
Worst of all, though...it'd been a slow, torturous, creeping attack. The first, distant howls and wailing of the Scarab that'd hit the square had gotten the avalanche sliding downhill, and with every wraithlike-screaming call, and with every quaking footstep, it'd only gotten stronger.
Even standing amid the smoking, mangled, and shredded remains of the beast after the orbital missile strike had killed it didn't help. By all logic, it should've, but...no. No, it had down. That mental avalanche of stored agony and pain had been gathering downward force all along, and getting that close to a Scarab- utterly wrecked and good for nothing but scrap metal as it was- had only accelerated the whole process. Amplified and supercharged it, and with vicious power.
By the moment when the ONI team had landed, the burden had reached the point where Rahman honestly didn't think she could take it anymore. It was too much. It was just too dang much. With her pulse beginning to race to where she was getting lightheaded all over again, and uncontrollable shudders rippling from head to foot across her, she'd had no choice ( as she saw it ) but to get away...
Just...get away. Didn't even tell Wilson, her top NCO, about it. Just ordered him to go ask the younger of the two ODSTs if he had any spare frag grenades, and the second the opening was created, she went for it.
Slipped away, and quickly found a place to...well, basically hide, for lack of a better word. It was the first floor of the same building they'd come through to even get to the square at all.. The abandoned café, with all the tables and chairs that were either turned over, perfectly set, or both..
Chaos, and order..
But, Rahman's mind was only chaos, and it was howling at her to do something.
Careening through the rain puddles, and under the drops that were still trickling down and dripping from the tops of what street lamps that hadn't been knocked over/blasted out of the ground, she ran though the doors. She didn't care whatsoever what this place actually was- because it didn't matter. The lights were off, there were places to sit, and nobody knew for sure where she was.
That's all that mattered now. That was all she needed. That's all she wanted...
And, she soon got it. Bumping against the various chairs like a human pinball, her mind a whirlwind, she eventually let it lead her to where she might go unnoticed: an office of some kind, at the back. She didn't know it beforehand, though: things were just a blur, as she numbly ran across the floor, spotted a door tucked away around a corner, and just kicked it. It wasn't a hard strike, but the door was unlocked, so open it flew.
Charging through, she all but fell to the floor, huddling at the corner most distant from the door. She was just running on reflex, and emotion right now, as only a woman could, and was all out of steam...at long last.
Eventually...she might get it back. But , not now.
Not yet.
Not...now. For the moment, all she could do was embrace the pain. It was years old, and relentless as it was the day it'd first struck, but...there it was, anyway.
And, there she stayed. For how long, only God would know.
That's where they found her, a few minutes later.
Still haunted.
Still tortured.