Chapter 13 – Fucus
June 14th, 2545 (15:36 Hours - Military Calendar)
Hicetas System, Kholo
Land Control, Grid-20
5 Kilometers Northeast of Hayth
:********:
The afternoon heat of Hicetas was bearing down with an unrelenting intensity. More than a few times, Duncan had to use his sleeve to wipe away the sweat constantly draining down his face. Whenever he was done, he regripped his shovel and plunged the metal head back into the soil. With a good thrust followed by a kick or two to force it deeper in, he would pull a pile of the sediment out and wheel around, dropping it into a nearby wheelbarrow. He'd have to wait of course while either O'Reilly, Al or Thurston did the same. They were all sweating and heaving dirt, sharing a wheelbarrow as they worked with a dozen others to level out the dirt embankment to the east of Land Control.
Grid-20 itself had become the new development site following the completion of Grid-19. After Nomad and Hunter Platoons had successfully scouted out and secured the surrounding area two weeks ago the goal had become preparing the expansion zone. It was an expectedly wide-open desert plain surrounded by a few sinking ruins and small hills. So far, the job was nearly done. Much of the vitrified topsoil had been unearthed and most of the heating plates and connective pylons were already installed. However, there was still an obstacle keeping them from finishing, that being the eastern hill. While many of the others were reduced first to embankments then smaller terraces and eventually flat land, the eastern hill was proving to be a much harder task. At 5-meters tall and 60 meters long it was the highest and longest formation, requiring a greater number of workers to level it out.
It just so happened that today it was Gypsy's turn to be of service. They came at dawn to help the maintenance personnel hollow out then ultimately downsize the eastern hill.
To Duncan it was a strange sight to witness. Men and women who were trained killers having their rifles exchanged for shovels and spades, their tactical gear replaced with sweaty T-shirts, dirtied short pants, denim work jeans or muddied overalls. Rather than helmets, they wore boonie caps. In the place of a Warthog for three was a wheelbarrow for a group of four. Twenty such groups were combining their efforts, civilian and mercenary alike.
The heat helped cook up a sweat as over the course of the day they reduced the hill to a semicircular embankment. At noon, they took shelter in the reinvigorated garages and office spaces of what was once a four-story corporate headquarters for a car company, now the new home of Land Control. The second Hicetas wasn't trying to give them heat strokes they went back out across the glimmering soil of the expansion zone to get back to work.
If Duncan had to guess, it would probably take until evening for them to get the whole thing down to 4 meters, 3 if they really worked at it into the night. Otherwise, they were looking at spending the next three days of their downtime digging away at a slowly diminishing pile of dirt. But he knew that they didn't have that kind of time.
Neither did Hayth.
Two days ago, he'd returned to his secret satellite in the far outskirts. The meeting was quick and to the point. After providing his report on the going's on at Land Control, Commander White delivered on his promise and updated him on the details of the impending Operation TROJAN. Dates, times and targets were all sketched down into his memory with perfect clarity. The situation on Kholo was about to ignite anew for the first time in years. He knew exactly where he wanted to be when he set off the beacon and who he needed to be around when he did it. Then again, he was more than a little concerned about who was coming to rescue him. The second White told him that the 7th would be involved he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He hadn't told Epsilon anything about this entire mission. Truthfully, he hadn't told anyone, not even Erica, mainly because he could see her trying to talk him out of it had she known what White had talked him into that day.
Even now as he shoveled away at the small cave cut into his section of the embankment, he thought back to what had happened behind the scenes.
It was the day just before he agreed to his second meeting with O'Reilly that they came to see him. He was still brooding about how things had gone wrong on their first meetup and was unsure what to do next when Falchion's local AI, William, contacted him. He told him to go to the Center. His presence was requested at the building, though he didn't say why.
He'd promised Erica it would be fine before he left her and Noah in their room. He appeared at the Center's front lobby minutes later and was met, much to his surprise, by an entourage of several MPs led by a man with unusually white hair. He didn't say anything at first or even introduce himself. He only nodded for Duncan to follow him and he did, having noticed the insignia of a commanding officer on his uniform.
The mysterious man led him down several suspiciously empty corridors then eventually down a long hallway with only a single door at its end. The two came inside alone while the MPs stood guard outside. They settled down in a near-featureless room of only two iron chairs on either side of a single metal table.
Duncan felt like he was being interrogated. The walls seemed to move past their cubed-perimeter to collapse in on him.
Ten silent seconds passed where the officer pinned him under his examining gaze. Then, reaching out of sight, he pulled up a folder, from where Duncan couldn't tell, and slid it over to him.
Not sure what exactly he wanted him to do, Duncan carefully reached for the folder, making routine glances at the mystery officer to make sure it was okay. He opened it up and froze.
"Recognize him?"
Those were the first words out of the man's mouth. They were the perfect question as well, because Duncan did indeed recognize the orange-haired and smugly grinning face of his good friend. It was a picture of O'Reilly next to information about him, some of which was hidden by lines of black ink.
"Ye-, yes." Duncan replied. "How-...what's this about...sir?"
The officer folded his arms across his chest and smiled. It wasn't in a friendly way, more like he was pleased that he caught him confessing to a crime. "My name is Commander White. I am with the Office of Naval Intelligence, Section I, and I'm going to need your cooperation."
The conversation took off from there. The way in which White introduced himself as part of Section I to a mere grunt like Duncan told him two things. One, he had to have known about at least some of his past dealings with ONI in order to be willing to give up that kind of information. Two, he knew a lot more than he was letting on and was only giving small pieces to lure him in. It worked.
White laid everything out plainly. ONI had been listening in on his calls with O'Reilly and had also observed their latest meeting in New Alexandria. Not only that but they'd had their eyes on the Irishman for a while since his disappearance on Draco III. Now, after overhearing the details of what they'd discussed at the café, they wanted him to reconsider, to take O'Reilly's offer and to be their informant in the AMADDS.
There was silence in the aftermath of the pronouncement. Duncan didn't know what to say, or at least how to put it. He wasn't sure how to say 'no' to a superior officer from an organization that could easily make him and his family disappear. White predicted what he was thinking and promised that he wouldn't get anyone else other than him involved in the decision. It would be of his own fruition given how dangerous the assignment was. Duncan told him he needed to speak with his squad-leader first but White replied that he needed an answer from him then and there.
He asked if he could tell his family where he was going. As expected, White said that he couldn't say a word unless he wanted his wife and son to possibly get mixed up in an ONI operation.
In the end he agreed to it. He would tell no one where he was going or why. He'd give Erica a cover-story and hope to the high-heavens that she could forgive him when she inevitably learned the truth.
The purposes of his mission notwithstanding, he had only one reason that he was personally doing all this.
Amidst his own shoveling, a commotion off to his left made him look over. Across the numerous sub-caverns being dug into the embankment, he saw a group gathering around what appeared to be a burst water main. O'Reilly stood right in front of it with shovel in hand, grinning as he examined his accidental handiwork. The last of the rust-yellow water inside was spewing out into a small pool. Somehow, it had survived the superheated temperatures of the glassing. By chance, O'Reilly had struck it and burst it open. Soon the water changed to a clearer translucence that attracted the attention of several more maintenance crew. They stood amazed at first, then shouted sarcastic congratulations and patted him on the back. They trudged into the small pool to take handfuls of the clearer water from the pipe. They poured it over themselves to cool down or tossed it at each other in what quickly became a water fight. O'Reilly laughed as Al was forced beneath the pipe by two others giving him what one of them called "A badly-needed shower". Al didn't take too kindly to it. He took in mouthfuls of the stuff then spat it back in their faces so that they let him go. A second later he was wrestling them into the water to try to give them the same treatment.
Duncan soon noticed that he himself was smiling. So was the orange-haired friend that he'd come to save.
He would work for ONI. In exchange, White would have O'Reilly pardoned for his defection to the Insurrectionists. That was their agreement.
It only applied however if he convinced him to defect back to the UNSC. Even that was harder than he thought it would be. After seeing his response to the UNSC abandoning Kroedis, he was certain there was some part of him that was still loyal. Now he wasn't so sure. On several occasions he'd struck up conversations where he tried to lead him in that direction, usually when no one else was around back on the Hill. However, no matter how much he harped on about who was right and who was wrong, O'Reilly never seemed to budge. Of the two times Duncan thought he was close, he would run headlong into a wall of anger, bitterness and sadness. From there he'd have to drop the conversation entirely before things got too heated.
He didn't know if a pardon would be enough or if O'Reilly could even be brought back into the UNSC with all that had happened. But after how far they'd both come on this journey, he didn't want to see his last friend from Ravenport fighting the people he'd trained to fight with, or even worse, dying on the side of those he'd sworn to fight against.
Even while his friend was smiling at the water fight, behind O'Reilly's gladdened eyes, Duncan knew that wall was still there. He needed to find some way around it before his last two days were up. Once that time was gone there would be no turning back. No, he thought as he glanced around to everyone else working beside him, not for anyone.
As he looked about, he saw a figure walking past him. There was a boonie hat atop her head beneath which amber hair had been tucked away. It was Ambers. She wore a pair of jeans, a T-shirt dampened by sweat and a pair of shades which she tipped down to expose her cold glare.
The guys at the broken main saw her coming and one by one fell silent. Eventually, only Al was making noise as he finally forced Thurston under the outpouring water which chose that exact moment to run out. The two finally heard her footsteps and turned to find her standing over them beside a tense O'Reilly, her eyes full of sharp disapproval, sharp but weary. She sighed at the sight of them.
"Stop messing around and get to your Hogs. We're leaving."
The group quickly perked up as she turned to leave, making the announcement on the comm-pieces they all had in their ears. "That's enough for today, Gypsy. Return to your Hogs, we're pulling out."
"Wait-wait," Al called after her, "Don't we need to-"
"Schonberg's saying we can leave after we've brought our wheelbarrows in. We'll come back tomorrow. Right now, I need a break."
I need a break. It was an agreeable sentiment. Duncan moved his last shovel's worth of dirt into the nearby wheelbarrow. He threw the tool inside as well. He pushed the one-wheeled transport over to O'Reilly for him to put his last batch in.
"Thanks boyo."
"Yup, now let's do what the boss-lady says and get out of here."
"Agreed."
They and the rest of Gypsy headed out with tools in hand and wheelbarrows in tow. Al and Thurston took longer since they spent the last seconds trying to push the other into the muddy water one last time. They left the maintenance crew behind to keep at it. Hopefully that set got more done before they got back, meaning less work for them.
They headed over to a temporary landfill setup on the grid's northern perimeter. There they added their piles of fresh dirt to the mounds of sedimentary extract already there. Once that was done, they headed off to Land Control. Thanks to its design, the building had two wings, one extending north of the main building and one south. They came to the north wing and found the doors of the vehicular garages that lined its length mostly opened. Staff inside took their equipment from them and they were free to leave for their personal Hogs parked within.
Reaching their troop carrier, Duncan admitted that he didn't feel strong enough to take the wheel. Neither did Al. O'Reilly, feeling too sore himself, made the mistake of asking Thurston if he wanted to do it, only realizing too late what he'd asked.
Thurston slowly looked between him and the front seat, then down at the ground. He shook his head. "Ugh, yeah...no. I think I-, ugh...I'll sit in the back."
No one pressed him on it any further. O'Reilly took the wheel to avoid saying anything else. They all got in and drove off, joining the rest of Gypsy's convoy in circumventing Land Control. The old remains of an asphalt highway came into view that they used to head southwest for Hayth.
Duncan sat in the passenger seat. Behind him, Al and Thurston took up either side of the troop section. The ride was quiet, awkwardly so. Along the way, Duncan could see it in O'Reilly's face that he wanted to apologize to his teammate for asking such a sensitive question, especially at a time like this.
The funeral for Gypsy's four fallen had been just yesterday morning. They'd had it at a small graveyard near the Bastille Building. It was a gathering of a few hundred, mainly old friends, teammates and townsfolk in the area. The families of the four dead showed up. However, there was only one family that he hadn't wanted to see. Palakiko's wife Alaine was there, along with their kids, Kevin, Malia and Ron. Haskin was the only one that was closed casket, and while his wife cried for him, it was Alaine and her kids whose voices remained prominent throughout the funeral. They tried to hold it in as Kirkley and Stewards gave their eulogies and remarks, but they let everything out when they laid flowers on Palakiko's grave. His head had to be partially restored by the Mayweather's morticians to make him presentable, that and his neatly pressed uniform. But to his family, he might as well have been just as Duncan had seen him when he'd gotten crushed beneath the wheels of that trailer. Even though the kids balled their eyes out, for him, it was Alaine's cries that struck him most.
For the briefest moment he let his guard slip and he imagined something. It wasn't Alaine crying but Erica. It wasn't Kevin, Malia and Ron hanging on to her dress but little Noah clinging to her hand, trying to understand what was going on. It wasn't Palakiko in that casket anymore. It was him.
He stopped himself from continuing the thought. The only way to do it as he stood by was to think of doing his job as part of the 21-gun salute. He, O'Reilly, Thurston and Al were among the crew of 7 waiting off to the side. They were dressed in full tactical gear and ready to pay their final respects. As they waited, despite everyone's steeled expressions, rifles held at the ready, out the corner of his eye Duncan saw a single tear inching down Thurston's cheek as Alaine's cries rose.
Then their time came as Kirkley and the rest of the mourners turned their attention to them. Stewards led the procedure as he ordered them into the necessary positions. At his say-so, they aimed into the air and fired once, twice then a third time. The last salvo echoed long after the caskets were lowered and the crowd dispersed.
Today, on the way back to Hayth, the event hung over them like a pall that was best left unrecognized. Doing so helped keep the peace.
Being too tired to do anything else, Duncan thought of Erica and Noah. He hoped deep down that they would never have to see him like that.
Then another worry crossed his mind that reminded him of what he needed to do next, and where he needed to go once they got back.
:********:
Hayth was a nice place. It was hot though, really hot. Actually, it was really-really hot.
Christa wasn't sure how people here were able to live like this. In the morning she found herself sweating beneath the sheets of her new bed. At noon, she was greasy even with the store's air conditioning. Close to evening and here she was lying down beneath an AC vent with the cool floor on her back. Trying to keep cool was all she could think of doing. Anything else was too much trouble, especially after everything she'd had to do.
Because of the nice man with a gun that she learned was named 'Duncan', or 'Mr. Old Blue-eyed Man' as Arthur called him, she was saved from Kroedis II and even got a new home. Her mother was afraid they would wind up in a refugee camp somewhere. They hadn't. Or at least she hadn't...
She tried not to think about it. Every time she did, she ended up crying, causing the nice lady named 'Olivia' to come to help her. She would tell her to try to think on something else or would show her something new around the store, even tailoring a new uniform just for her. She'd taught her how to stock and restock the shelves with foods, cleaning stuff and all kinds of things that her mother used to buy when they...
Arthur liked to help her just a wee bit too much. He was nice but he usually showed her how to do things she didn't think of doing. Things like helping the adult customers find what they were looking for or getting ladders to reach and restock things high on the shelves were fine and all. However, they were doing it almost all the time whenever she wasn't on her break. Arthur was good at keeping up with everything going on around the store at any time. Not her. Trying to keep up with him had landed her on the floor beneath a vent the second that the last customer was out.
Feeling the cool air on her face and the cold floor on her skin, she felt relaxed, so relaxed that her eyes grew heavy.
She was close to the blackness of sleep when she blinked and saw a soccer ball hanging over her. It dropped from someone's hands to bounce off her head.
"Boop."
She heard the voice and figured out the face before Arthur leaned into view, smiling in that grinny way that he did as the ball bounced back into his hands. "Mornin'. Had a good sleep?"
Christa breathed out and yawned, stretching her arms. "No."
"Well, that's too bad." He bounced the ball off her head again and caught it, flashing his eyebrows. "How about it?"
"Noooooooo."
The ball bounced off her forehead a third time. "Yeeessss"
Christa rolled onto her side. "Noooooo."
Arthur leaned over so she could see him again. "Yeeessss."
Christa turned the other way. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Say no if you mean yes."
"Yes."
"Haha, gotcha."
Christa groaned loudly and rolled onto her face just to not look at him. He had a habit of taking her out on the roof to play long soccer games that he never liked to lose. It would be hot up there, and heat was the last thing she needed. But she knew Arthur wouldn't leave her alone until she said yes. "Uggghhh...okay, fine."
She got up and Arthur happily led the way to the back door. He hailed Olivia on the way behind the counter. She looked at her worried and Christa shook her head. Olivia nodded, though still worried. "Just don't keep her up there too long, Arthur."
"Yes mam. I'll only be 10 minutes."
"Make it 5. It's hot out there and not everyone's built like you, little man."
Arthur opened the door. "Alright-alright, 5 minutes."
Christa saw him cross his fingers on his freehand as he looked back at her, grinning, then led the way inside. She rolled her eyes as they went out the back and into the alleyway. They slipped up the ladder onto the rooftop.
Sure enough, it was super-hot. The floor under their feet had her trying to tip-toe so that she wouldn't feel like she was being grilled. She shuffled over to her box on the right side while he took his usual one on the left, not even stumped by the afternoon heat. He slapped the ball hard. "First to 10 wins the match."
Christa groaned again. "Why not 5?"
"Because I'd beat you too fast. It wouldn't be as fun."
"I'm already not having fun." She grumbled.
"What was that?"
"Just start already."
"Okay."
Arthur lay the ball on the ground and gave a hard, leftward kick. He followed it. She didn't move. By now she could tell it was a trick to get her to run after it so he could kick it through her legs. Not this time.
Her guess was right. He frowned as he got the ball back between his feet slightly closer to her goal. He tried to kick it in anyway. She caught it right under her foot, gave him back the same playful grin and raised her leg as if to kick it to her right. Once he saw and moved that way, she quickly kicked it left and ran.
"Hey, that's-"
"No, it's not!" She shouted back, giggling at seeing him trying to run after her. She got to his goal before he could stop her and kicked with her toe. The ball rolled on into the box, knocking it back but staying inside.
She lifted her hands up as she ran back. "Gooaaalll!"
Arthur bit his lip, fuming. He grabbed the ball and tried to make a play, but Christa saw him coming and used the side her foot to swipe it out of his path.
"No, you don't."
In a sudden scramble, Arthur reached it first as it bounced off the wall. He slipped it past her legs like he'd wanted. Laughing, he took it all the way to her goal and toed it in.
"Heh, 2 to 1."
"Huh? No, it's not. You have 1 and I have 1."
"Duh, obviously I got another one in while you weren't looking."
Christa folded her arms over her chest and raised her brow. "How?"
"One word. Time travel."
"That's two words, you ninny."
"Oh...just like how I have two points."
"Okay, you know what? I'm gonna beat you just to shut you up about your time travel and your magical point."
"You can try. I'll just pause time and get-...hey!"
She burst off running back to her goal, took out the ball with her foot and started back for his. He dashed after her again. "How'd you-"
"Time travel!" She kicked the ball in such a way that she hooked her foot underneath it before launching it into the air. Arthur raced past her until he was between the ball and his goal. He reached up and caught it.
"Hey, that's cheating!"
"No, it's not." He pointed down at the floor and the small rectangle of rocks around his box. "That's the goalie box. Once I'm in it, I get to be goalie."
"Meaning?"
"I told you this already. The goalie is the guy who stays in the goal. Goal-ee."
"But you didn't stay."
"'Cause I'm the goalie and the rest of the team at the same time."
"Uhuh. Okay."
She swatted the ball out of his hand before he could react and picked it up.
"Hey!"
"Hey what? I'm the goalie." She pointed down. "I'm in the box, aren't I?"
"Yeah, my box."
"Oh, I'm in your box?"
"Yeah!"
"Perfect." Christa lay the ball down. Just as he figured out what she was going for he closed his legs too late. She kicked it straight through into his box. She raised her hands up shouting; "Goooalll!"
"What!?" Arthur growled. "No, you have to be outside the goalie box."
"Whose goalie box? Your goalie box?" She stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, does it really matter?"
"Yes, it does." He stuck his own tongue out at her.
"Oh well, I've still got 2 and you've got 1. We're even."
"...You suck."
"No, you suck."
"Or maybe you both suck."
The voice was too deep to have come from either of them. They turned to see someone coming up the ladder. It was Duncan. He hailed them as he walked over. "Hey kiddos. So, how're you two getting along?"
"Aren't you supposed to be working now?" Arthur asked, looking over his dirty jeans.
"Nah. We're done for the day. I came to see how you two were doing. You're not at each other's throats so that's something I guess."
"Not yet."
Christa stepped out in front of him with a smile spread from ear to ear. "Yes, I'm having so much fun showing him how much better I am at soccer than he is."
Arthur stepped up next to her and elbowed her aside. "Only 'cause you're not following the rules."
She elbowed him back. "The rules you change every two seconds?"
He pressed back again. "You're lying, its every 10 seconds because the rules say I can do that."
"That...doesn't even make any sense."
"You picking up the ball in my goalie box doesn't make any se-"
Duncan pried the two apart and held his hands out to keep an arm's width of space between them. "Okay-okay-okay, geez, you guys are acting like actual siblings going at each other's throats here. Calm down."
"I'm not trying to go at his throat." Christa said. "I'm going at his knee, which I kicked by the way."
"That was yesterday." Arthur hissed back.
"Hope it still hurts." She stuck out her tongue at him. Angered, he tried to run at her but Duncan held him back. He put a hand on her shoulder as well.
"Can you two please keep things civil for me? Can you do that?"
Arthur stopped trying to run at her and looked confused at the taller of the three. "What does 'civil' mean?"
"Ooh, I know what it means. I know, pick me." Christa said, causing him to get a little angrier.
"Really? Then what does it mean, Einstein?"
"It means something you're not." As she pointed and laughed at him, Duncan had to again stop him from running at her. But he got the better of him by throwing the ball at his face. As Duncan brought his hand up to block it, he lost control of Arthur and he ran at her full-force.
Christa smiled, stepped aside at the last second and held out her leg. He tripped right over it. She watched him fall face first onto the floor.
"Haha, nice tr-"
His left leg quickly knocked both of hers out from under her and she fell down next to him.
"How's that for a kick?" Arthur grinned as he tried to get up, only for Christa to tackle him back down, screaming like a wild animal. She forced her long hair into his face and even into his mouth when he tried to shout.
"How's that taste, huh? Tell me."
Christa was enjoying herself as he choked on her hair. She realized too late though that it was a bad idea until he bit down on it and shook his head around like a dog. She could feel the pull on her scalp and screamed.
Neither of them noticed that their shoes were being taken off, Arthur his right and Christa her left. Then they both felt the light brushing of fingers against the soles of their feet that made them start laughing.
Duncan held their feet as he'd crouched down to tickle them in order to stop the fight. Christa laughed uncontrollably. So did Arthur. They begged for him to stop. Whenever he did, they tried to throttle each other again so he kept at it.
Soon 30 seconds had passed and both of them were too tired out to keep going. They lay on the floor, trying to breathe through bursts of laughter. Duncan stood over them, arms folded.
"Let's try that again. Can I count on you two to keep things peaceful?"
"What's-"
"Peaceful," Duncan said, cutting Arthur off, "As in not kicking each other to the floor," He turned to Christa. "And not stuffing your hair into someone else' mouth or kicking their knees."
"Hah, you have one more thing than me." Arthur said.
"Yeah, just like how I have two points and you have none."
"Wha-"
"Hey." Duncan clapped his hands to get their eyes back on him. "Keep...things...peaceful. Keep the peace. Arth, I'm counting on you especially since you're the oldest, okay?"
"What, why him?"
"You heard him. 'Cause I'm the oldest."
"So, you better be the mature one." Duncan said, pointing a finger. "I'm leaving her here so you can watch out for her."
"Yeah, so watch out for me or I'll-"
"Christa, you too. You can't count on Arthur to always look out for you. Sometimes you'll need to look out for him, even if it's just you protecting him from himself."
Christa poked her tongue out to tease.
"Or you."
Seeing that Duncan wasn't messing around, that he was being serious, she stopped acting out. "Fine." She sighed.
"Arth?"
"...Fine."
"Thanks." Duncan gave them a hand and pulled them onto their feet. "Now, it looks like you need a referee. So how about it?"
Arthur moved to answer. Then Duncan touched something in his ear. "What? Where?" A second later he turned away to Hayth's wall. "Seriously? How?"
Christa and Arthur looked at each other then back at him, not sure what was going on.
"Okay, I'll meet you out front." He turned back to them, looking worried. "Ugh, alright guys, something's come up. I'll have to visit later, okay?"
"When's later?" Arthur asked.
Duncan jogged to the ladder. "Maybe tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
Christa called after him. "Where're you going?"
"To do my job."
They watched him slide out of sight. Not long after, they heard a rumble coming from out front. They walked over to the wall on the other side and saw him jump into the passenger seat of what Christa recently learned was called a 'Warthog'. Then he and a couple others with him sped off down the street.
"What was that about?"
Arthur shrugged. "They're AMADDS. They're probably going to steal something."
"Steal?"
"Yeah, that's what they were probably doing when you found them on your planet too. It's what they do."
She noticed how he soured a little when he said it. She wanted to ask more questions but was too curious about his change in mood. They'd already had a small fight after all. Instead, she asked it to herself in a low whisper.
"So, what're they stealing now?"
:********:
It was a downed reconnaissance drone.
Land Control had lost contact with it while flying it in a mostly unexplored area 2-kilometers northeast of Grid-20. The report was that they were trying to measure the thermal displacement of the ground near the smoke pillar when the drone was believed to have been caught in a sudden dust storm. The alarm was set off and a response team was rounded up for dispatch. The team was comprised of a quartet of maintenance personnel from Land Control accompanied by a security detail of seven AMADDS.
Their trio of Warthogs left Land Control armed and ready. Travelling along the crumpled remains of a highway was Ambers on the turret of the lead vehicle and two of her team riding front. The maintenance crew manned the troop carrier in the middle. The last carrier at the rear hosted Al and Thurston with O'Reilly at the wheel and Duncan riding shotgun.
The entire recovery team wore military issue head-scarfs wrapped around their faces. Added to that were special thermal goggles looking more like compact shades that would help them in the weather they were about to run into. While the security detail was decked out in their tactical gear and weapons, the maintenance crews were geared up with service tool boxes and handheld blowtorch canisters. Behind them, mounted to the back of the middle-Hog, was a small platform with four wheels that was connected to the vehicle's front 'tusks': the winch system. Their focus would be first to see if the drone was recoverable and to bring it back atop the platform. And second, if it wasn't recoverable, to salvage what was left.
Duncan eyed the rear platform as he quietly thought about the specifications of their mission. He mostly checked his gun, trying to understand why an armed detail was needed on a planet devoid of any life that wasn't AMADDS-affiliated. There were no wild animals either. He hadn't seen a single cockroach here, the insects fabled to be capable of surviving nuclear blasts. Naturally, the glassing beams were just that thorough, being more like the power yielded by a nuclear warhead but concentrated to a pillar of directed energy. No one could survive that, so why the guns?
Then he saw that on the eastern horizon, rising above the distant ruins was what looked like a towering sea-wave rolling towards the coast. Only there was no coast and that wasn't the sea. It was a dust storm stretching from one end of the visible horizon to the next, and it was slowly rolling towards them. They, however, drove towards it faster, making its job easier.
He asked a different question over comms than the one he was actually thinking. It was just as, if not more important.
"Since when do dust storms start out east?"
"They don't." Al replied. "Not at this time of year anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Seasonal change." O'Reilly answered as he maneuvered the wheel. "It shifts with the air currents. Those are a bit choppy because, well, the planet's a mess. You have the Covenant poking bloody holes through the atmosphere to thank for that."
"Usually, the change doesn't come until January." Thurston added. "So that?" He nodded at the incoming storm. "Yeah, that's a wild one. I don't know where it got the gall to suddenly show up like this."
"Maybe it's one of those rogue ones we get now and again." Al said.
A chiming in their comms indicated that Ambers had established a solid link with theirs and her team's. "O'Reilly and crew, keep your eyes up out there. We do this quick and clean, go in, give the maintenance guys the time they need to figure things out and get back. Athena says by the way conditions are looking that this thing will reach Hayth in 40 minutes. We have to be out of there before then, otherwise we'll get locked out when LC and Hayth hunker down. Understood?"
"We copy, mam." O'Reilly said. "In and out."
"Good. I'd say 20 is all we need. Let's get this done."
"Yes mam."
Duncan was still worried, not for reasons he could say openly however. Operation TROJAN's plan relied on the bi-weekly storm to come in from the west, not the east. What would that entail for the situation at Starship Row if that change continued? They would basically have to deal with the weather like a game of Russian roulette, something Yuri had told him was only fun once because you usually only got to play it once. The same thing applied here. They would only get one chance, and if they lost the initiative right off the bat then a number of things could go horribly wrong for everyone involved. Everyone.
He subconsciously looked at O'Reilly, his attention set on managing the way ahead, and turned away before he could ask him what he'd really wanted to since day 1 on Kholo.
The storm came up fast. Soon they were within the outer bands. The enormous face of the storm was swallowing up a small decline in the highway when they drove down into it. The light faded almost immediately, replaced by a dim, undulating world of dark and light brown dust. Ruins close to the highway became less defined. Those further out were reduced to ghostly silhouettes that were there one moment then gone the next. The downpour of dust whipped around them from the westward moving winds. Dirt quickly collected in the folds of their scarfs and on the windshield, forcing O'Reilly to routinely reach out and brush some off just to get a better view.
"I hate this stuff." Al huffed from the back.
"Just try not to talk too much." O'Reilly warned. "It'll keep the dust out."
Al started spitting. "Ah, too late."
Duncan kept an eye on the way forward. The highway and the Hogs ahead regularly dipped out of sight. He kept his MA5B in hand but kept his goggles off for the time being so to preserve their short-term battery.
For 5 minutes they carried on straight ahead. At 6, they diverted off an exit route on the left and along several perpendicular turns through what he guessed were neighborhoods. At 7 minutes, they arrived at the outskirts of an open area. There was an encirclement of silhouettes low enough but see-through enough to be a fence. By their shape relative to the fainter silhouettes of the surrounding buildings, they were coming out onto an old baseball field. Because of the shadows he recognized that they were maneuvering across the outfield. The area itself, grass and all, was reduced to glassy soil being whipped over with dirt gusts like the desert it now was.
Ambers spoke into the comms. "The objective is 30 meters ahead. O'Reilly, split off to the left and take up a position 5 meters past the drone. We'll split right. Setup a perimeter for the maintenance crew."
"Copy. Okay guys, if you haven't already, switch on your thermals."
Duncan finally slipped the goggles over his eyes as did Thurston and Al. Switching them on changed the world around them to one of mostly dark-blue hues, hues matched over the contours of a baseball field enveloped within a sinking neighborhood. The dark blues vacillated with heavy wisps of violet in the place of the dust storm. Then there were their Hogs driving forward in the image of melded greens, mild yellow-oranges and hot reds. The concentration of reds and oranges coalesced on the persons in the vehicles. It wasn't VISR mode but he could still make do.
Further up, Duncan saw they were moving towards an object blending in almost seamlessly with the rest of the environment. It would have, were it not for its unique, avian shape with a small heat signature originating around a ventral engine. The drone was tilted onto its side at the end of a 5-meter-long scar in the ground, having stopped right on top of where the pitcher's mound would be.
Getting closer exposed more of its features. There were two large, segmented wings of 1-meter spans that both lay at the rear of the main body. As the two security Hogs moved past the front, they saw that the wings were folded against the rear of the body itself which had an hourglass shape. It curved back out into a glassy, black orb with a multifaceted surface that looked more suited to an insect's eye. The landing gear was pinned and crumpled up beneath it. Duncan could tell that the wings had automatically slipped back behind the craft as it came crashing down. That, combined with everything else, made it seem a lot more like a dead queen ant.
The two Hogs stopped at a position close to the 1st and 3rd bases. Duncan hopped onto the ground with the rest of their group and fanned out, as did Ambers' two men. Ambers herself stayed posted on the gun, scanning across the eerie ruins in the distance.
The maintenance crews parked right behind the drone and were quickly moving to examine the craft. Tugging his scarf over the bridge of his nose, Duncan patrolled closer to get a good look for himself. As he went, he nearly tripped over something hard. He rounded on the cause: a small, spherical object half-buried in the dirt. The thermals were dark so he temporarily switched them off, reached down and pulled up whatever had tripped him. He held it close to his own eyes.
It was an old baseball helmet. The metal surface was rusted, dented in places and had a faint red coloring. He wondered how it got there or who it might have belonged to until he realized that the head-size was too small for an adult or even a teenager. He reverently rested it back where he'd found it and went on his way.
He stopped at the head of the drone. The front was a glassy orb, probably the main observation mechanism, or at least he thought so. Then he looked a little closer. The thermals, as well as the fact it was cracked open like an egg, allowed him to see the camera device hidden within. It was damaged atop its interior rotational gimbal, its circuitry exposed and ripped out by the fall, sparking every now and again.
Two of the maintenance crew were huddled around the front canopy probing its innards with their tools. A bright spark of hot-red light turned him to see the other two. They were using their blowtorches on the joints of the starboard wing which had mostly broken loose.
O'Reilly walked up next to him. "This thing's really banged up."
"Yeah. How big do you think it is?"
"Don't know. Three meters. Four tops."
They moved off around the drone's portside to make it seem like they were still patrolling. The damage was less obvious on that side since it was tilted starboard. However, as they reached the middle of the craft, Duncan noticed something odd.
There were multiple spots of bright yellow on its surface; over a dozen. There was something simmering there. He came closer and switched off the thermals to see it with his own eyes.
They were burn marks. He walked along and saw that each one was a scorched section of melted plating bent inward like burnt paper. But it was spotty, not all over like a regular fire from a crash. The charring was strange, strange because he'd seen it before. "Is that..."
O'Reilly came by. "What? Those marks?"
Duncan looked him square in the face. "Riley, what does that look like to you?"
"You being sarcastic or..."
"No, seriously, take a look."
O'Reilly stepped closer. Duncan heard the buzz of him turning off his thermals. "It's just-…" He suddenly reeled back.
"You don't think-"
"That's not possible. We would've noticed-"
"I'm getting something on my thermals." Ambers said. The two of them instantly shifted their attention to her. She was maneuvering her turret from left to right, aiming out across the buildings to the northeast. Duncan used his giggled to look around for himself. There was nothing, nothing but darkened windows and hollow structures.
Then out the corner of his eye he saw a flash of red, though not where Ambers was aiming at. It was off to their left where he guessed the northwest to be. He took aim, but by then it was gone. "Saw something."
"Where?" O'Reilly asked, trying to follow.
"Apartment building, 100 meters out, north by northwest, 10th floor."
"...Don't see anything."
"It was there a second ago."
Al, Thurston and Ambers' two guys were now searching about. The maintenance crews were looking around concernedly as well.
There was nothing but a long, windy silence, the feel of dust washing over their clothes and a vast blue, coldness.
Suddenly a flash of white-hot light lanced through Ambers' chest, throwing her clear off the gun. She grunted as she landed in a heap.
All at once a group of yellow-red silhouettes appeared in the windows of far-off structures. Duncan saw the shots before he heard them as flashes of white-hot lines landing all around the field. He fell low, as did O'Reilly. Everyone else scrambled for the Hogs. Al and Thurston slammed themselves against the side of theirs amidst a hail of fire. Duncan and O'Reilly were closer to the one with the turret and ran for it. Ambers' guys were too far out but tried anyway. Halfway there one of them took a particle round through the back of the head. As he and O'Reilly slid to the vehicle's side, he saw the last guy get to within several meters before taking one to the back. He stumbled to a knee, tried for a running start but was floored by another shot.
Duncan remembered and checked on the drone. The two engineers at the craft's front already lay dead. The two with the blow torches at the middle made a run for their Hog. Particle rounds stopped them cold. Two struck one of them through the back. Three hit the last guy just as he reached the hood, one to the back of the leg, one through the shoulder and the last in the neck. He clutched at his throat before collapsing, letting out gargled screams as he writhed on the ground.
"What was that!?" Al shouted on the comm. When no one answered, he asked again; "What was that!?"
"What do you think it was!?" O'Reilly replied.
"Jackals." Ambers said, her voice weak.
Hearing her, Duncan and O'Reilly finally took notice. She was lying on her back a meter away from the rear of the Hog that they were huddled behind.
O'Reilly instinctively tried to crawl over. "Ambers, you-"
The lightning flash of a particle round struck mere centimeters short of him. He scrambled back.
"Don't try to reach me." Ambers insisted through labored breaths as she held up a hand. "Stay there. Stay...there. You know what they're doing. They could have finished me off by now and they haven't. Just stay there."
Duncan knew what she meant. He gritted his teeth, frustrated at the situation he hadn't seen coming. They were using her as bait. She would have to stay there until either they cleared out the area or...
"But when did they even get here!?" Al asked, sounding more panicky.
Duncan saw Thurston put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Don't worry about that. All that matters is us getting that drone and getting the hell out of here."
"We can't." O'Reilly admitted. "You saw them, didn't you? There's at least a dozen out there. We're not going anywhere."
"But we can't call for help." Duncan said. "They won't send any in a storm like this. I don't know if we're that worth the risk."
"The drone, maybe. Not us. Even then, I wouldn't bet on it." O'Reilly tried his long-range communications. So did Duncan. Only static answered them. "Yeah, thought so."
"We're waiting this thing out then?" Thurston asked.
"We'll have to. There's no way we can deal with all that on our own."
"Wait-wait-wait." Al butted in. "Is no one else curious about how the alien bird-thingies got back on Kholo? Guys, doesn't that mean the Covenant...you know, came back?"
"Maybe." Thurston thought. "Or maybe they're scavengers working on their own out here and we just so happened to run into them. Think they were the ones that took down the drone?"
Duncan considered it. "It's likely. We spotted plasma scoring on the portside. Chances are they might have shot it down to keep us from seeing their territory."
"You're saying they have a setup down here too!?" Al was panicking even more and everyone could hear him breathing harder. Thurston tried to calm him down again.
O'Reilly peered out a little over the top of the Hog. "I can barely see anything at this angle. If we look any further out, they'll just right up and shoot us, and Ambers is too exposed to bring her in. Mam, how're your wounds lookin'!?"
There was no answer.
Duncan checked her. Without the thermal view she was barely a silhouette despite how close she was. On thermal, she was a flickering figure of orange and red clutching one-handed at her stomach, the other hand clawing into the dirt at her side. She was lying in a pool of bright red that was slowly turning a dull blue.
"Ambers!?"
She took a worryingly long time to respond. "They hit me in...the stomach, lower-right side. It's hard...to stay conscious right now."
"Sounds like a liver shot." Duncan said. "She's incapacitated. If we don't do something soon, her chances will start dropping. We've got to figure something out."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, maybe we-" In the middle of his adrenaline he got a stroke of suicidal genius. Since he was the closest to the driver's seat on their Hog, Duncan scooted over to it and peered in from the side. There was a small, red tool box near the manual breaks. If he could just reach it to get what was inside.
"Flares."
"What?" O'Reilly asked.
"Our SOS flares. They have to be using thermals just like we are, right? We can use flares to overload their visual sensors. It'll blind them for a couple of seconds, enough for us to get some good shots in."
"Wouldn't that blind us too?" Thurston asked.
"Not if we fire it out towards them instead of shooting up. The further out it is, the less the effects will hit us, the more it'll be their problem."
"We'll have to figure out the timing."
Ambers spoke up, sounding even more hoarse. "I'll keep...an eye out...have the best angle...tell you when to shoot."
O'Reilly took in a calming breath. "Thurston, can you reach yours?"
Thurston eased over to look into the driver's seat on the other Hog. "Yeah, I-, I think so."
"Duncan?"
"Yeah."
"Alright. It's our best chance. On three."
Duncan slipped closer to the seat.
"One...two...go!"
Duncan and Thurston both reached in, keeping their heads low as they grabbed the tool boxes and yanked them out. A few particle rounds rang out in response but struck the other side of the vehicles. The two of them safely crouched back down with the boxes in hand.
Duncan unlatched the top and popped his open. He switched off his thermals to see better as he sifted through the inside. His hand found what he was looking for and he pulled out the flare gun by its handle along with two shells. Just two shells.
O'Reilly didn't look enthused. "Two shots, great. Thurst, how 'bout yours?"
"Same."
"Perfect. One flare will only be enough for one side. We'll have to shoot two at the same time. We only get two chances at this so get ready."
Duncan opened the long-barreled gun, popped the orange shell inside, flung it closed and thumbed the hammer. "Ready."
"Just say when." Thurston said.
O'Reilly braced himself. "On three...one...two...three!"
Duncan and Thurston stood up over their Hogs and fired, sending the live stair shells arcing across the field and over the far-off fence before they ducked back down. Ambers sounded off just three seconds later. "Now."
Switching back to thermal, Duncan stood up with O'Reilly and took aim. The star shells were a blinding spot of light blowing slightly off course in the storm, but were far enough away to not be a problem, for them at least. Thankfully, they kept the dozen heat signatures that surely did look an awful lot like Jackals from noticing them. They stood in the windows and on the balconies of buildings from the northeast to the northwest, holding the V-shaped frames of beam rifles. They were trying to aim while also looking away from the incoming flares.
Everyone picked a target and poured fire into them. Duncan wasn't sure how effective the MA5 would be at 100 meters, but there was no way around it. He got off several controlled bursts to stay as accurate as possible then ducked back the instant the flares fell away.
They were all crouching down before the return fire flashed overhead.
"Got one." O'Reilly said. "How about you guys?"
"I took one down." Duncan replied.
"Two for one." Thurston triumphantly declared. "Man, I should've been a sniper. Carseago had it all figured out. Al, how about you?"
"Yeah, I got one." Al said, sighing with relief.
O'Reilly pulled out his spent magazine and slapped in a fresh one. "We're giving it a second go, boys. This one's for all the marbles, yeah?"
They quickly reloaded their rifles. Duncan eyed the last star shell, wished it luck and popped it into the flare gun. "Ready."
"Okay, you two shoot from the sides this time. That way they won't know where to aim 'till you're already done. On three. One...two...three!"
Duncan and Thurston repeated their routine, this time side-stepping out from behind the hood of the Hogs to fire. Several particle rounds slashed at the ground at their feet, too far off-target to have been focused shots. The Jackals were getting desperate. Regardless, the flares arced out. Thurston's spiraled towards the buildings. Duncan's, much to his chagrin, didn't get very far. The wind forced it to fly too low and it bounced off the very top of the field's encompassing fence.
Ambers' call never came.
O'Reilly took charge of the situation in a blink. "Now!"
They rose up again to fire. Though Thurston and Al didn't have the same problem and got off good bursts, Duncan and O'Reilly had to wait an uncomfortably long second. They searched through the additional glare brought on by the flare landing too close. Duncan's view cleared enough to spot two Jackals on the same level of a leaning apartment building that were similarly struggling. He put a pair of three-round bursts through the head of one. He sighted along that same level to the next one positioned higher up in order to give it the same treatment. O'Reilly fired off as well at a neighboring apartment.
Particle rounds flashed past, forcing the group back down.
"I didn't see those last two." O'Reilly snarled. "I know where they are though but now that's all our flares. Thurst, Al, how'd you do?"
"Our side's clear." Thurston answered. "We got all the ones to our northwest. You said there's just two left?"
"Yeah, unlike our flares." O'Reilly leaned forward and peeked out at the turret which faded in and out within the dusty winds. "...Guys, I'll need you to cover me."
Duncan saw what he was going for. "Rile, that's not-"
"Cover me. Three...two..."
"Crap."
"One!"
Duncan, Thurston and Al all rose to just a little over their Hogs and found their targets. Their targets had also found them. Even as they opened fire, the particle rounds started coming in, zipping perilously close.
O'Reilly ran out and pulled himself up onto the turret. He swiveled it out towards the last apartment where the hostile fire was coming from and returned the favor a hundred-fold. Duncan got to see the triple-barreled M41 rattle off in one direction, cutting down the Jackal there. The last sniper fired a particle round straight into the Vulcan's left gun palisade. It miraculously ricocheted off rather than piercing through. O'Reilly redirected the turret and stitched the last Jackal full of 12.7 millimeters. The body fell over the balcony wall it was hiding behind and plummeted a few stories to the ground.
Silence followed, punctuated only by the crew reloading and scanning the area. O'Reilly swept his gun from left to right. "That looks like all of them."
"How can you tell?" Al asked.
"'Cause my brains are still in my skull." He peered behind him. "Duncan, check on Ambers."
"Copy." Duncan ran over and slipped down to her side. He switched off his thermal view to see her condition. She wasn't moving. One hand was on the bloody hole in her stomach, the other resting at her side. She was staring straight up into the sky. He moved her scarf a little to hold his hand over her mouth. Nothing. He put two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse.
Nothing.
"...She's dead, Rile."
"What?"
He turned up to face him. "She's dead."
O'Reilly looked between him and Ambers for a moment then turned away to land three heavy punches against the metal hide of the turret. Grasping at his head, he looked around. "Alright...alright...okay, here's-, here's what we're going to do. We don't know if they've got reinforcements on the way. We'll secure the bodies on the Hogs first. Then we'll secure the drone and get back to Land Control, copy?"
The three of them gave a less than speedy reply as they got to it. They took the bodies first. Duncan carefully picked Ambers up and carried her to the passenger's seat of her own Hog. She was surprisingly light. Once she was in place, he ran around to help Al and Thurston with the dead maintenance crew and their two fallen platoonmates.
With the bodies secured, they worked on fastening the tow ropes of the maintenance crew's vehicle to connective points on the drone. Thurston, with a bit of finagling in the driver's seat, got the pulley underway. They eased the damaged craft onto the wheeled platform and roped it into place.
"Good stuff, guys." O'Reilly said. "Now choose a Hog and get behind the wheel. We're leaving."
"I've got the one with the gun." Al said, jogging up to him.
Thurston walked to the middle. "I'll carry the drone."
Duncan shrugged. "Guess I've got the rear then." He got behind the wheel and got the engines back online.
During the rumbling start-up, he heard the faint sound of fast footsteps. Startled, he looked around. "Hey, you guys moving back there?"
"We're all in the Hogs, boyo. Why? You see something?"
"Thought I heard something."
"Yeah? Well, that's are cue. Get us movin', Al."
"Roger."
The lead Hog pulled off. Thurston went next with the drone in tow and Duncan quickly followed.
The ride back to Land Control was relatively quiet. The storm remained ever-present around them.
They got within comm-range and O'Reilly contacted Athena, telling her their situation and requesting for her to open up a garage for them. But she replied that the storm had already reached them and that they were in lockdown. The sheltering procedures would be too much to undo and leave them too exposed to the weather. Instead, she instructed the crew to head to Hayth and return the drone later.
O'Reilly reluctantly agreed.
They carried on to the town. Headed southwest, they were soon driving past the greenhouses. Then the wall came into view, hazy against the backdrop of the storm that had already reached there as well. Duncan only hoped they would be willing to let them in.
:********:
First Blade Officer Izari Okenraree held on tight to the rear of the last human vehicle. He kept his head low so that the driver wouldn't look into the rear-view mirror and notice his shimmering form. The two shimmers of his subordinates on either side of him did the same. The dust storm swirling about them caused their active camouflage units to react with numerous flickers, their armor trying to catch a proper hold of their constantly changing environment.
They remained just an arm's stretch above the passing road by keeping their boots hooked into the undercarriage. The strain on their muscles was prolonged by the journey. Still, not a one of them would risk letting go, to risk being exposed, to risk compromising their mission.
Not a one.
They held on even as a massive wall came into view. Seeing it, Izari felt a sense of relief mixed with anticipation and justification. It was exactly what they'd been hoping for.
The group of vehicles briefly stopped outside a set of massive metal doors. He counted off the beats of his hearts in his mind as they waited, waited, and finally the doors opened up.
The vehicles drove inside. They entered into a human settlement of glassy houses and buildings. The streets were quiet and abandoned. Every door was shut and every window shuddered down in the face of the storm.
They waited, waited until the wall fell far behind them and they were well into the settlement.
Then Izari let go.
His fall was whisper-silent. He rolled back-first over the dirt into a controlled tumble that ended with him landing into a kneeling posture. He stood up. The shimmers of his subordinates stood nearby, the dust covering much of their armor after their own controlled tumble.
Though mostly invisible, he knew they would see it and understand as he held up his right hand and swiped it to the side; the signal to move out.
As expected, his two subordinates dashed away. One headed left, the other right while he himself sprinted back for a nearby alleyway. Their tracks rapidly vanished underneath the dusty gale as if hidden by unseen hands. The Gods had truly blessed their mission. He gave his quiet thanks to them as he his team of Silent Shadows dispersed into the human town to begin their mission.
Fucus – Drone
