Whew, okay, so this week got away from me a little bit, so thanks for the patience on the late upload. Good news is, this one's pretty fun. Big thank you to BrambleStar14 for the last-minute beta read for this chapter.
Pretty Lies
I need you to see me for what I have become
-Sleep Token, 'Take Me Back to Eden'
And calm the storm inside
Just breathe through me
We'll keep the fires alight,
I'll face down the world with you
-CLANN, 'I Hold You'
"Okay, I'll bite."
Was it a good idea to open a potentially heavy conversation as the Pelican began to descend? Not likely, but the atmosphere in the troop bay was turbulent. Instead of the usual anticipation, Phoenix and the tagalong Agents were fidgeting nervously.
"How did you get a spook in your pocket?" asked Mich.
Monty quirked a small smile. While Ian was always larger than life, his brother was still and tranquil. Soft-spoken and thoughtful. Not a single movement was wasted, as if he knew precisely how much energy he could afford to spend. "Lots of talking late into the night while I was stuck in medical. Eventually you run out of wild stories about growing up beside ONI handlers and military campaigns and you have to make small talk somehow."
York leaned forward. "Shit, kid, I bet you're something else in interrogation."
"You talk too much." Monty pulled his helmet on and got to his feet, beckoning Mich with a gesture.
She slapped first the release on the restraining bar, then Rhodey's shoulder on her way past. She took her place beside Monty and faced the rest of the squad. "Just remember one thing. We're the good guys now and forever. Nonlethal force only. We're better than them. Act like it."
"The quieter we are, the longer we'll have to find what we're looking for," added Monty, "the less fighting we have to do. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
She settled her gaze on Harper. "Don't let me down."
He tapped two fingers to his visor. "Wouldn't dare dream of it."
He had been on his best behaviour since the bar. She supposed he had everything he had ever wanted—Jason at his side, his brother back from the dead, Mich out of his face. A real plan to free the colonies. A chance for peace.
The Pelican touched down on the blacksite's landing pad and the ramp lowered. Rain froze as it hit concrete and metal, turning everything to sheets of ice. Swirls of snow flashed by in the floodlights. A trail of footprints slowly filled as if the guard had been wiped from existence.
Mich and Monty waited, scanning the landing pad for any signs of the next patrol. She realized they both had one hand on their sidearms.
"So far so good," said Falcon, peering over their heads. "Good to know that IFF tag is still in the system."
Mich nodded. "Let's get this over with."
Much like the building where Phoenix had first met Irons, they were at an unassuming high rise, one of thousands in the city of glass and steel. It could take the two teams days to comb through every single room—every single hard drive if they weren't lucky. All Mich could do was send up a nonbeliever's prayer as York crouched next to the door's keypad.
Circuit promptly swatted him in the shin. "You're blocking my view," he protested, wiring his data pad to the keypad.
York stepped away, grumbling to himself.
The keypad flashed green and the lock disengaged with a hefty click. Circuit jumped to his feet, palmed the door open, and waved Alpha squad forward.
Mich stuck her elbow out, answered a second later with a tap from Rhodey as they fell in next to her. Both soldiers stepped through the door together, their armour swallowed by the gloom inside. The overhead strip lights were out, leaving only emergency lights bathing the hall in red and rich green.
"It's like fucking Christmas Eve in here." Rhodey external speakers were muted, leaving their voice little more than breath in Mich's ear. "Oregon must look like Santa with an elf."
"Crosshair's more like a Christmas tree," she whispered back. "Can you focus for two seconds?"
"Ma'am."
At least they weren't saluting in the middle of the hall like Firefly would have.
"I hate you."
But the pair continued on, striding through the hall as if they were completing a routine sweep of the floor. The best the collective brightest minds of Freelancer and Phoenix had come up with was to pretend they were extra security detail checking the building when the storm 'knocked the power out'. Courtesy, of course, of Nev and Circuit. Though the cover wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, it might at least give the actual guards pause enough to act.
"So what, exactly, are we looking for?"
Mich shrugged a shoulder. "A server farm. An archive floor. It's not like ONI blacksites advertise their attractions."
"Do I want to know how this one was picked? Did someone just toss a dart at a board, or was it a Plinko game?"
"If you must know," Harper cut across the conversation with a haughty sneer, "Spectrum's mole personally picked it out. The files are here, confirmed by the one and only Irons. I'm told he's middle-management, but the perks aren't worth it. Did you know they don't even—"
"I will pay you to stop talking on this channel," said Mich.
"How much are we talk—"
She killed the channel with a blink and instead opened a tight-beam to Rhodey.
"Thank Christ."
They cautiously opened a door, poking the barrel of their shotgun into the open-concept office space.
"Hey, I don't wanna be that guy," said Firefly, "but has anyone seen… anyone yet?"
Rhodey checked their corners before moving into the room. Following on their heels, Mich began the tedious process of searching through each and every cubicle on the left side of the room.
"Anyone can answer at literally any moment," he went on.
"God, you Innies are so needy," said York. "Shut up."
"I'm serious. I hate that I'm about to say this, but it's too quiet."
Mich hated that she had to agree. She couldn't shake the jitters skating over her skin. In fact, they only grew stronger with every vacant cubicle she put behind her. In the dim red glare, each family photo, each inspirational quote, each word-a-day calendar seemed to mock her. The base of her skull began to itch as she and Rhodey met at the back of the room. They shook their head. Nothing on their side.
So they turned as one to work their way back toward the hall.
Which was when Mich's radar pinged half a dozen contacts moving their direction.
"You just had to open your fat mouth, Firefly!" But Hunter sounded all too eager at the prospect of a fight.
"That timing's way too convenient," Mich growled. "So much for quiet over here, too."
Several voices began talking over each other immediately.
"Monty, I'm gonna—"
"I didn't even—"
"You fucking say that to my—"
"—can't believe we feel for—"
"—side is the mole on?"
Mich dove under a desk on instinct alone, watching Rhodey scramble behind a filing cabinet across the aisle. A hail of bullets shredded through a cubicle wall, sending dust and cork board spraying through the room.
The jitters silenced into a deep calm. She flicked the safety of her rifle and peered around the edge of the desk. The red half light wasn't enough to fool her FOF suite, painting each target for Rhodey. Mich aimed a burst downrange for good measure, clipping the lead guard.
Like clockwork, Rhodey leaned out of cover before the startled squawk was fully out of the guard's mouth. They took the leader out of commission along with the guard next to him in seconds, spent shotgun shells plinking against the floor in the abrupt silence. The rest of the guard team fanned out, already wise to the dangers of grouping up.
"It was Church," Crosshair said grimly.
"It was Church!" Conversely, Harper practically sang it.
Another volley obliterated the wall at Mich's back. The frame rocked before the entire section toppled toward her. The only thing that saved her from bolting out of cover was a decade of combat experience. Which left her huddled under a desk, the exit shut by the flimsy, shredded partition.
It might as well have been a foot of starship plating.
Her breathing was harsh, rattling in her own ears. Her back pressed against the desk. The partition lay across her visor and her lower legs, knees tucked up to her chest. Her rifle was pinned between the wall and her shoulder. There was no air. No space. Nothing but the smothering darkness and her pounding heart as she sucked down breath after gasping breath.
"Mich, now is not the time to go to pieces. Get your ass out here," snapped Rhodey.
She willed her arm to move. Her knee to push the wall away. Her finger to squeeze the trigger. Anything.
Nothing.
She was trapped in the pod. The top hatch refused her input. Dom was rapping on the front panel. Her legs were numb, arms aching, stomach roiling. She was about to watch her friends die before her eyes, helpless against the rising tide.
Automatic gunfire rattled somewhere so very far away. Somewhere in another life, she would have joined the fight. It was easier to stay trapped in her own grave.
"Mich, listen to me."
She couldn't. Not over her heaving hyperventilating.
"Focus on my voice. I've got you."
The darkness pressed in on all sides. Of all the ways for an ODST to go out, buried alive was cruel.
"Tell me three things you can hear."
Rhodey was cutting through the guards now that the odds had evened out. One by one, the red blips on her HUD switched to yellow as the threat level plummeted.
"Shotgun," she croaked. She regretted it when she had to pull down another great gulp of air she couldn't feel.
"Good, that's one."
"Footsteps."
The slightly uneven gait of her battle buddy hurried by. Their shotgun boomed somewhere close. Armour clattered to the floor.
"People fighting."
"Nice work. How about three things you can see?"
She wished she could laugh coldly at the suggestion. There was nothing but darkness squeezing around her chest. She was alone. She was forgotten in the crushing black.
Red soaked back into her grave. A tall figure in black tossed the partition aside without so much as a grunt of effort.
"Rhodey!"
"Get up, Mich."
"You got two more?"
She couldn't make her limbs uncurl. She didn't think they even belonged to her anymore. Her eyes darted around. "Chair. Shotgun shells."
Rhodey bent down and clamped a hand around her shoulder pauldron. They dragged her out from under the desk and pulled her to her feet. External speakers clicked on. "I'm gonna let go of you now. Can you stand?"
She nodded, trying to figure out how to feel the floor under her boots.
"Good job, Michigan. Better?"
"Ye-yeah, I'm okay, Hunter."
"'Kay. I gotta go."
Rhodey stepped away. Mich swayed, but stayed on her feet. They nodded and led her back out into the hall, pausing only to kick weapons away from the groaning and unconscious guards, to zip-tie hands.
"Are you a liability?"
The pair were standing outside the obliterated office space, door locked behind them. Rhodey held their shotgun close to their chest, as if cradling the weapon for comfort. As far as Mich knew, they probably were as they stared down at her. The blank silver visor gave nothing away. It wasn't a judgemental question. Just a seasoned veteran asking another the clinical question.
Are you going to get us killed, or are you going to keep it together, soldier?
Mich took her time to answer. She turned all the way inward, assessing the damage done. Testing her resolve. Trying to picture the galaxy if she couldn't complete their objective. If she left it in the hands of Carolina and Harper.
"I'm good," she assured her teammate. "Let's roll."
Rhodey's chin dipped in acknowledgement before they led the way to the next bend in the hall.
"Good to see a friendly face!" York lifted a hand as he rounded the corner with Falcon in tow. "Sounded like you fine folks ran into some trouble, too. These guys don't play around, do they?"
"You're absolutely certain Monty didn't have anything to do with our surprise party?" asked Rhodey.
Falcon shook his head. "Spectrum is good, but nobody's good enough to hide a betrayal that big from Circuit. They haven't left each other's side, period. Not to mention the fact that we're family. He wouldn't walk us into a trap."
"It's been years, Innie. Ever thought you don't know each other anymore?" they pressed.
Falcon holstered his pistol and put his hands in the air. "We're all just soldiers here. If you have something to say, I might say something myself. Nobody's out to get you but ONI and UNSC HIGHCOM. Let's get out from under their thumbs, yeah?"
York clapped Rhodey on the shoulder. "Come on, enough standing around in hostile territory."
They turned their back to Falcon and marched stiffly into the red gloom.
"Alpha squad on me." Geist, as always, was mechanically precise. He pinged a location on the team's collective building schematic. "Carolina and I have it."
Mich winked a green light in response, studying the schematic for the fastest route. She forwarded it to Falcon and York.
"Good thinking, Mich. I like your moxie," said the latter.
The former simply retrieved his sidearm and waited to take up the rear position as they fell into a rolling T.
Halfway to the stairwell, another squad of guards spilled out of a bathroom. Rhodey's hand flashed out, slamming the door back on the leader's face. York leaned against the wall, poking the muzzle of his rifle through the gap and firing.
Falcon tapped Mich's shoulder. She pivoted and sank to a knee, propping her elbow to steady her aim. The door across the hall slid open and the Phoenixes squeezed their triggers with practiced precision. Mich caught the one on the right, who collapsed with a shriek as blood sprayed the wall. The guard rolled, clutching the ruined mess of her knee. Falcon treated the left guard to the same greeting.
They rolled across the hall in unison, each taking up position on either side of the door. Bullets tore through the space they had just been kneeling, sending up showers of tile and drywall.
Mich palmed the door open a little wider, nudging it along its track until she could see into the supply room. A shadow shifted, black on black, and her HUD painted the outline. She silently thanked Circuit's upgrades and sent a burst into the guard's thigh. He dropped.
Between her and Falcon, it was over in seconds. Together, they carefully crossed to the bathroom. The door opened again and York stepped through, nursing a knife wound to the forearm.
"Everything okay in there?" asked Falcon.
"Oh, yeah, peachy."
Rhodey shouldered their way out, loading more shells into their weapon. "I'm fine. By the way."
Entirely used to being sassed by the rest of Phoenix, Falcon simply fell back into position at the rear. Rhodey took over point from York, who field dressed his arm in seconds and carried on like nothing had happened.
There were zip-tied guards on the stairs. Chins rested on chests, but they were breathing. Bloodied and beaten, yes, but Mich nearly didn't believe that every soldier on the mission kept to the nonlethal rule. That she was aware of.
Stepping gingerly around the unconscious guards, the group hurried upward as fast as Rhodey could manage. They didn't complain or even slow as they climbed, but after three floors they started leaning on the handrail. It was all Mich could do to stop herself from lunging up every flight, despite the burn in her chest after the fifth floor.
At the sixth landing, another squad of guards burst in on them.
Almost lazily, York and Falcon fired over Mich's head. Rhodey simply tackled a guard and armoured fists hammered against flak jacket as they rolled out of sight. For her part, Mich was busy blowing holes in kneecaps, head empty.
She flattened herself to the stairs, wiggling a fresh magazine free of her vest pocket. Falcon and York filled her silence with the paired reports of their sidearms. Then, as Mich popped her head up behind her rifle sights, she took over for them.
Falcon slipped past her, climbing the first few steps of the next flight. With his better vantage point, he fired into the hall until Rhodey emerged, blood smeared across their chest and faceplate.
"Relax," they said, sheathing their combat knife and reaching for the shotgun over their shoulder, "no lasting harm done."
Mich nudged them up the stairs behind Falcon. "Good," she said blankly, still shut down on her emotions. She wouldn't let them get the better of her again. Not after the panic in the cubicle.
"What happens when we run out of restraints?" asked Falcon.
York shrugged. Mich didn't have an answer either.
Oregon and Crosshair joined them around the forty-fifth floor. Rook and Circuit fell into step as the group filed out of the stairwell. Geist and Carolina waited with Harper and Hunter. Spectrum and Maine arrived last, having already collected Firefly and Tex.
"So these sixteen assholes were standing around a locked door," said Firefly.
"And the blond said to the brunette," Harper picked up the joke.
"'Keys weren't issued with my gear.' But the dumb blond was in luck," added Falcon.
"I brought my engineer."
Mich wasn't the only one to cast a surprised glance Spectrum's way when he delivered the punchline.
"Why aren't we just blasting a hole in the wall?" growled Maine.
Hunter cut him a look. "Do you want fire suppression to fry the entire server farm? Didn't think so. Keep your bright ideas to yourself."
"If you're finished," said Carolina, certainly not amused. She had her pistols aimed down the hall, apparently trusting the rest of the Freelancers to keep watch over Fireteam Phoenix. "I want to get this over with before we're swarmed."
But Circuit was already hard at work, data pad balanced on his knee as he hunkered down next to the security checkpoint. Beyond the fingerprint scanner, biometrically locked door and a metal detector blinked hundreds of server lights. Exabytes upon exabytes of data, compiled and stored by ONI, loomed like mountains stretching away into darkness. Nearly the entire penultimate floor had been dedicated to storing the information, an empty floor remaining overhead to protect against destruction from above. There was only this hallway with the security checkpoint, the elevator bank, and a bathroom on the floor.
Circuit's hands stilled over his data pad. He looked up at Spectrum, leaning over Circuit's shoulder with his chin resting atop the engineer's head, dislodged by the movement.
"That's not right," said Spectrum. He pointed. "That's exactly the code Beggar gave me. Scroll up?"
With so many antsy trigger fingers in the hall, Mich left the Freelancers and most of Phoenix scanning for more guards. She joined Circuit and Spectrum, though with her rudimentary tech skills, she didn't think she could do much beyond offer moral support.
Still, she crouched next to the checkpoint, assessing the cord hardlining Circuit to the scanner. "Not to be Captain Obvious," she said, "but are we sure the code really is from Beggar? This op is already compromised. Someone somewhere tipped ONI off."
Circuit tapped the edge of his data pad. "Feeding me fake code isn't as simple as spoofing an IP address and hacking the ONI intranet," he said, as if hacking ONI was something people did on a lazy Sunday.
"Had to be an inside job," said Spectrum. "No way it was someone random. No one on-site could have known. All of our planning was done in neutral territory."
"The only people who knew beyond us were Nev, Beggar and Irons," she argued. "What would any of them have gained by delivering us on a silver platter?"
"Like it'd be the first time any of us got burned by a spook." Harper had joined them, impatient with the delay. "That's why you and I are even here, Bliz."
"Not my father," she snapped.
Spectrum shook his head. "I trust Beggar."
"Nevada helped me write the rest of this." Circuit gestured to his data pad.
Mich gritted her teeth. "I think we forgot someone important. He's already stuck his nose where it doesn't belong once."
Hunter glanced over one shoulder. She could see the hot rage behind his reflective visor. "We got fucking played," he said. "We are fucking stupid."
"How the hell did Church find out?" she said aloud.
"Does it matter right now?" asked Spectrum.
"I'm trying to focus here!" Circuit waved them away. "Conspiracy theories later. Busy right now."
"We were so careful," Mich complained, drifting a few feet away to let Circuit concentrate.
"I'll be the asshole: it wasn't the most complicated code to crack," said York, taking the opportunity to chip in as the Phoenixes—past and present—fell into the defensive line next to him.
"I'll be the other asshole," said Firefly. "We've got incoming."
The emergency lights cut out, plunging the soldiers into utter darkness.
"How long, Circuit?" asked Harper.
"As long as you've got," he answered.
"Right. Bravo squad, let's move."
Carolina, Geist, Tex, Firefly, Maine, Falcon, Harper and Hunter peeled off. All Mich—and anyone else crowded around the security checkpoint—could see were thin green outlines disappearing into the black.
Rook spoke in Mich's ear. "Guess it's you and me now."
"It's amazing how fast Circuit burns through battle buddies. Guess we've both been replaced," she joked back as Rhodey took a step toward York.
Oregon dropped back to help Spectrum cover the still-typing Circuit. That left Falcon hovering near York's back, somehow managing not to seem like he was breathing down the Freelancer's neck.
There was a soft click down the hall, which would have been smothered by the ambient hum of the building's lights if they hadn't been dead.
"Three," hissed Mich, thumbing her rifle's safety.
"Two." Rook tensed at her side.
"One."
These weren't simple security guards. They moved deliberately, boots placed with the utmost care to soften every footfall.
"Mark."
Seven flashlights snapped on at once, burning the darkness away in an instant. The spec ops soldiers reeled, overwhelmed by the industrial-grade spotlights aimed at their nightvision goggles.
Mich couldn't help but feel impressed when Rook's flashlight strobed without any particular rhythm. She set hers to a random pattern, letting her HUD automatically account for the wild lighting.
Those NVGs would never be able to keep up.
The ex-ODSTs stepped forward together, him with a KA-BAR in each hand, her with her battered assault rifle. They met the first operator with the advantage, spinning around him as if on a dance floor. Rook was everywhere she wasn't, ducking the operator's every attempt to get a shot lined up. Mich got a few rounds buried in thick armoured plates, but couldn't land a solid hit. Rook swiped at the weak joints, only to be turned aside by underweave.
Fighting with Rook was nothing like any of her recent battle buddies. Rhodey was never in any hurry. They took their sweet time, only moving fast in extreme situations. They would never be rushed, never caught off guard, never waste a single movement. Circuit was erratic at best. If Mich needed him to go right, she would certainly find him moving left. It was something she learned to count on, always letting him lead. And Hunter was always caught up in his own head. Once she unraveled his rhythm, found the song he was humming in the privacy of his helmet, she could follow his every step.
Rook was content to let her lead. As he had with Circuit, he faded into her shadow, forming to her ODST-drilled instincts in seconds. When she twisted out of reach, he swept in to feint at the operator's helmet. When she pressed forward, taking aim, he fell back to catch his breath.
The ONI private enforcers were a different breed. As Mich and Rook played every trick in their books, he simply found somewhere else to be, creating space out of nothing over and over again. Mich lined up a shot only for him to roll away. Rook got a hand on the operator's weapon only for him to draw his combat knife and slice for Rook's throat.
Mich drove the butt of her rifle into the back of the operator's head. He stumbled, dragging her partner along. After regaining his footing, he plunged farther away.
The flashing lights turned the surging mass of soldiers to stop-motion horror. Jerking movements brought the ONI kill squad crashing into Alpha again and again like unnatural monsters sprinting out of the dark. Despite the chaos, all Mich could focus on was the ODST helmet being pulled farther into the crush.
On the operator breaking off from Rhodey to pounce on her caught battle buddy.
"Slip, behind you!" she shouted. She snatched her combat knife from its sheath on her thigh.
All thoughts of nonlethal force were sucked out of her as she watched, painfully slowly, the ONI operators double up on the ODST separated from his team.
She just cocked her arm back, took aim, let fly. The operator folded, knife hilt sticking out of his hand. It gave her partner the opening to kick free of the soldier still clinging to him.
"Who the fuck is Slip?" he asked, panting.
Michigan blinked. "Dead," she said, moving to his side where she ought to be. Taking aim and ensuring the ONI operator stayed down long enough to deal with the second.
The lights cracked back on. The elevator doors opened. Another kill squad swarmed out. Even with the progress Alpha had made, they were outnumbered and worn down. York's arm wound was bleeding again. Rhodey stood with their weight off their bad leg. Circuit was pinned to the security checkpoint, rifle barrel to his visor, data pad abandoned. Spectrum had been separated from him by another operative.
"Harper's soldiers, huh? I can't wait for you to see your cells. They're down so far no one'll ever hear you screaming. Weapons on the ground, faces to the wall, hands on heads," ordered one operative. Mich spotted a rank insignia and complied. The captain went on, "Some of you lucky bastards will be forgotten and never see daylight. Some of you are going to have a lot of fun these next few weeks. Let's move."
Rook on one side, Oregon on the other, Mich felt hands pat her down, searching for concealed weapons. Finding none, she was shoved roughly into file.
"Don't think about squawking for help either." The captain held up a small, slender device. "Nobody's got comms here. Your fearless leader's next, don't worry. The reunion's coming."
Alpha squad marched, hands on heads, between the two ONI teams, to the basement cells.