Chapter 17 – Insciente vinctum
June 23rd, 2545 (08:10 Hours - Military Calendar)
Hicetas System, Kholo
Township of Hayth
:********:
The battle for Hayth was over.
Operation Trojan was a resounding success. Before the end of the day on June 16th, UNSC forces had won a two-front battle. Fighting street by street, Bravo Company's 4th and 5th Platoons pushed back the Jackals to the area around the east gate. There they annihilated them. Meanwhile, Alpha Company's 4th and 5th Platoons had forced the AMADDS into the western corners of Hayth where they made a last stand at the auditorium. Flashbangs, breaching charges and quick trigger fingers enabled the ODSTs to clear it out room by room. The relative minority of mercenaries that surrendered in both the auditorium as well as across the town were sheltered in place and put under guard.
By the operation's end, the dust storm was edging over the town's eastern wall. Once it was confirmed that Hayth was under new management, Commander White gave the order for all forces to find shelter in the surrounding buildings, mainly within municipal infrastructure. The ODSTs made temporary homes out of the Bastille, the Hill and ammunition depots for well over a week. All the while, routine patrols were setup to take the place of the AMADDS. Rather than just guarding the wall, the patrols also went to shuddered homes to carefully knock on their doors, just as ready to talk things out as they were to shoot.
To practically everyone's surprise, the expected local pushback never came. The anticipated militias never materialized. While many in the town owned weapons and made open displays of it when answering the doors, they only brought said weapons to hand them over. It appeared most of the denizens had gotten the hint at who was really running things after Athena stopped responding to their personal requests. They made it a priority to address the Helljumpers respectfully and politely, handing over their weapons as a show of surrender. They even let them check the premises of their houses for contraband or AMADDS in hiding. Such affairs were usually tense since many of the folks they came across were families or friends of the Aegis Material Acquisition and Defensive Delivery Services personnel. By proxy, many of them were freely letting the killers of their loved ones into their homes without so much as making an attempt on their lives.
No matter how hard the troopers searched, they found no booby traps or deserters. There were no ambushes either. Nothing. That was the most chilling aspect about it. The people of Hayth had to have known what was done to the AMADDS and what would soon be done to them. And still, nothing.
The ODSTs didn't make the risky trips merely out of security purposes however. They also went to ensure the wellbeing of the people. Once they realized the population was self-pacified, Colonel Garrison and Colonel Hayes organized schedules for different platoons to go out. They provided necessary food and water supplies to them from the municipal storehouses. In doing so, they were able to keep the population indoors and avoided any civilian casualties from the weather. The occasion became less of an invasion and more of an emergency relief operation. Added to that effect was Mr. Green's integration into the communications system. He thereby took Athena's place as the 'local helper' AI and the intermediary between them and the new authorities. The people accepted these new conditions and supplies without much question or contention. They maintained that same chilling calmness that no one had thought to expect.
Duncan figured he knew why. The answer, for him, lay in his conversation with Reece back on their last ride to Actium together. He had told him about one of the UNSC's most controversial actions back during the years of the colonial insurrection; the nuking of the colony Far Isle. Controversial or not, planet killing historically speaking wasn't the sole patent of the Covenant. They were just the first to make an industry out of it. Still, the UNSC was shown to be capable of more than just planet or system-wide counterinsurgency operations. In terms of what they could do to punish rebellion, the sky was quite literally the limit, and these people had to have known that.
Whereas inner-colonists had the hands of ONI censors to keep shady events hidden from their news cycles, the people of the outer colonies got to see what that old war had done firsthand. Most of those here were from the outer colonies. A decent number were old enough to have remembered those harder times and keep the younger generation from trying anything. Or perhaps they understood the equally bleak reality of their present situation. Now that their hideout was discovered, there was no way the United Nations Space Command would simply allow them to continue living behind enemy lines. In all likelihood it was probably a combination of the two understandings. Maybe the people were simply taking the mental precautions for the first possibility and the physical preparations required for the second.
Over the course of the week that they were hunkered down, the most Duncan could think about wasn't how he was going to see Epsilon and his family again or how he was going to have to explain all of this to them. Rather, it was that scene back in Dennis & Grandson's that kept him up at night, staring out the windows of the Bastille at the endless whirlwinds of dust.
Arthur breaking down in tears. Olivia holding him as she shook her head at White for suggesting they were 'friends of his'. Christa starting to cry because she didn't know what was going on.
He'd known this was coming. He'd seen it from miles away. He hadn't expected it would hurt this much.
He barely knew them for a few weeks yet he felt that he'd broken something, something that couldn't be fixed by a few regretful apologies.
But what else could he have done? The question in and of itself was really a shield. He knew that. It was a good enough excuse to keep his conscience at bay whenever it tried to torture him out of his dreams. Usually, it filled them with alternative versions of the event, each one worse than the last, each night rougher than the one before.
He tried to think about other things but that often made it worse. When it wasn't Olivia, Arthur or Christa, it was O'Reilly.
Shortly after everything had settled down on the first day, Duncan had gotten another audience with Commander White. He told him what had happened right after their last radio transmission and asked if anyone could be sent out to look for O'Reilly. Much to his further sorrow, White shot down the request. He told him it would be too risky sending out a search team to or from Starship Row or Land Control, yet alone out towards an obscure location that even Duncan himself couldn't pin down. That was what made it worse, that he couldn't even figure out where O'Reilly had thrown himself. There would be no attempts made to find him until the end of the storm a week later.
In basic terms, O'Reilly was a dead man, if he wasn't already.
Just the thought of it was enough to keep his addled mind busy throughout the day.
As if he didn't have enough to worry about, there was also the fact that aside from Thurston, Squad Jinx had escaped. The response team to the ODST arrival at Land Control never arrived. The theory was that they saw the attack by the Jackal ship and, rather than going back to Hayth, they decided to head east, straight into the storm. It was believed they were going after Dr. Schonberg before Mr. Green's ability to triangulate their communications was flatlined by the storm's natural interference. They'd wanted Stewards alive or dead. He'd escaped from their grasp without so much as knowing he was a high-value target. Then there was Dr. Schonberg. He'd fled early on through an escape route. Green told him not to worry about it when he'd asked, saying there was no way anyone could have known since there wasn't even a reference to it in the local database. Regardless, those were two very critical targets that had not just escaped but in one case had left with some of the vital technologies they came to secure. Another loss. Yes, Operation TROJAN was a success in so far as it secured Hayth. Beyond that, many of its objectives remained unmet and would likely stay that way.
Arthur and Christa's tears, Olivia's disgust, O'Reilly telling him he'd 'regret it' before throwing himself into the storm, everything worked together to drive the sensation of a knife through the very core of his being. Added on top of that were a series of events beyond his control that made him question if this had all been worth the price he'd paid, or everyone else for that matter.
Some 27 Orbital Drop Shock Troops were killed in action during the op, 13 from Bravo Company and 14 from Alpha Company. They had slightly less than twice as many wounded in total. Any officer would probably see that as a good ratio given the price they'd exacted from the enemy. Of the town's 300 strong garrison of AMADDS, 186 were confirmed dead with the vast remainder either wounded, captured or probably both. The same went for 30 local constables that had given up without a fight. The Jackal force of 500 strong on the other hand had been completely wiped out, including their sole ship. No one was interested in taking Jackal prisoners. There was a sense that doing so on a glassed colony world would disgrace the memory of those who were also shown no mercy.
Those were the preliminary reports before the storm arrived and made long range communication between the three sites next to impossible. There was no telling what would turn up later. Yet as much as he was glad few Helljumpers had died, there were too many terrible things swirling in his head to really give it much thought at all.
The one thing keeping him sane, the one victory he could cling to, was that Major Benjamin Kirkley was dead. He'd seen the corpse himself when they brought it in to the Bastille. The face was mostly gone as was much of the back of the major's head. Everyone cheered at the sight of it. There was finally some sense of justice for the people killed in the Molnar Bombing, and it had been brought about by one of his own squadmates no less.
He had Deaks to thank for the island of sanity that granted him in the midst of his own thoughts, and by the powers that be, he swore that he'd thank the man when he saw him. He was aware that the corporal was on the other side of Hayth manning an observation post in all this bad weather. He'd take the first chance he could to talk to him. More and more as the days drew on, he felt that was what he needed, to talk, especially with someone close enough. Sure Deaks was something of a sociopath, but Duncan had learned to appreciate that. It was better compared to the last few weeks he'd spent among men who were, in no uncertain terms, pathological psychopaths.
Then the week was up.
The ODSTs woke up on the morning of that day with no sign of dust swirling in the air, only covering the streets and coating the rooftops. He never thought he'd be so grateful to look at a normal sky again. It was a reminder though that today would be the day he dreaded most. They would be moving the civilians off-world, requiring security to watch over the embarkation process. He accepted that White or Hayes might tell him he didn't have to be a part of it. However, his conscience was on a path to self-destruction, promising him that it would torture him endlessly if he didn't at least do one thing. He had to see off the people he'd betrayed.
The troopers didn't have any spare BDUs to give him. For his own safety, he put on his tactical gear. That brought with it another dilemma of needing to make sure nobody mistook him for the real deal. So he convinced an ODST from Bravo to give him a handful of UNSC insignia patches. He put them on different parts of his clothes. That way, anyone that looked at him from any angle would see them and know he was on their side. Anyone that was a Helljumper. The same wouldn't apply to the people making the modern-day trail of tears journey to the extraction craft.
Such was the feeling he got as the citizens of Hayth walked through the western gate. The procession was going towards the two ONI Prowlers Cape Horn and Santiago. The ships stood beside each other on their landing supports some 50 meters outside the gate. Their rearmost hanger bay doors lay open to receive their new guests. The procession split further up into two streams to funnel up the ramps into either entrance.
Beyond the ships, everyone passing by could see the distant pillars of smoke far in the west. These were different from the smoke pillar that burned perpetually in the east. Their sources of fire wouldn't just keep burning forever. That was because they were rising from the wrecks of the remaining ships and infrastructure at Starship Row which the troopers of Bravo's 2nd and 3rd Platoons had scuttled. The spectacle was just another reminder that there was no other way off Kholo aside from the UNSC.
The ODSTs of Alpha Company's 1st and 2nd Platoons stood guard on either side, the 1st along the first route to the Cape Horn and the 2nd along the second route to the Santiago. Their presence hemmed the groups in place and kept the lines moving to their respective destinations. At the ramps of the hanger bays themselves, troopers from Bravo's 4th and 5th platoons were stopping the people there in a checkpoint fashion. They sifted through the bags and suitcases they were carrying on them as well as rifling through their clothes before sending them on inside. It was the second time they were being searched. The first checkpoint was at the gate itself in the form of Alpha's 3rd and 4th Platoons who were doing the same thing. The leadership wasn't taking any chances.
Security here was paramount prior to letting the people onboard. However, by Duncan's own estimation, there was virtually no one here who actually wanted trouble.
He observed the crowds, eyeing one sultry face after the next. There were families, mothers leading sons by the hand and fathers with piggybacking daughters. He noticed how those set were among the ones who often looked back to the home they were leaving. The elderly among them were usually looking straight forward, not turning whatsoever to the left or right. Many of those closest to him ogled him like a strange creature on account of his gear.
Then he saw a change in the grouping. Several dozen AMADDS dressed in gray jumpsuits and shackled at the wrists came striding within the gathering. Two squads of ODSTs marched them onward.
As they passed, Duncan saw familiar faces. There was Captain Gonzo of Gator Platoon and Captain Ruedell of Tiger Platoon. The two of them were among those that gazed on him with such venom that he was tempted to look away. He held their stares until they passed. There was one, however, that he didn't expect to see.
Thurston was at the back of the group. He had a severe burn scar on the left side of his face that hadn't been there before. Somehow, he'd survived the ordeal that the rest of Jester hadn't. Still, by his expression as they made eye contact, Duncan sensed that he wasn't very happy to see him. Thurston stared at him with wide-eyes, mouth agape. Then his gaze narrowed. He clenched his jaw, nodded in grim acceptance and turned away; stone faced.
Duncan watched him go on. The guy never turned back around to look at him, though he imagined that wouldn't be the case if he had an M6 on him. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore. He was aware of Thurston's record, how he'd run away from his trial for killing his old CO. Now the military tribunal would have Insurrection and sedition charges to add to his list of crimes. Duncan didn't take any pleasure in that. It was just the way things were playing out and they would all be living with the consequences of it, himself included.
Someone walked up right next to him. He was too caught up in seeing Thurston that he didn't notice until they tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Irish."
He turned to see another person he didn't expect but was definitely excited to see. The Helljumper held his helmet at his side, exposing his shaggy hair and expectant grin. With his sniper rifle on his back and Silver Buddha similarly sheathed, Deaks held out his arms. "Missed me?"
Duncan laughed, shook his head and hugged him. "Not at all."
"Yeah, same here pal."
Deaks patted him on the back and the two let go. Epsilon's sniper, the man of the hour himself, looked around with hands on hips. "So...enjoyed your vacation time out here?"
Duncan held up his hands. "Okay-okay, I'll be honest. The only reason I'm here is because I needed a vacation from you guys."
"Dang, that kind of stings. We were that annoying?"
"Well, Zack was. You a little bit too."
"Uhuh, I see. Tell you what, I haven't gotten a chance to contact the others yet, but I know for a fact you'll be adding a certain redhead to that list of annoying people."
"Nova?"
"Do you honestly know any other redheads? Man, I better not tell Erica about this."
The two shared a laugh.
"By the way," Duncan said. "Nice job taking down Kirkley. That was the best news I've gotten in two years."
"No problem. I made sure to give him my, ugh, 'premium dentistry approach' if you catch on. I can give you the same if you like. It'd finally fix those teeth of yours."
"They're only as crooked as your personality, corporal."
"Thanks, that means a lot."
They shared another laugh.
"Alright, alright." Deaks said. "On a serious note though, the rest of the squad's been worried sick about you. No joke. I listened to some of the stuff Nova was saying before we came here. It gave me chills. Pretty sure she plans on shooting off your toes when she sees you."
"Ah, right." Duncan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, I'm going to have to figure out what to do about that soon."
"Well, you better figure that out fast 'cause you're going to be seeing them today. They sent some Pelicans out earlier to Land Control. Once they get back, you're screwed."
"Hmph...royally?"
"Yes, your highness. Royally"
"...Ah...right."
"...Now listen," Deaks put a hand on his shoulder. "You and I need to talk, alright? Later on, when we're on our way out of Hicetas. You mind?"
Duncan thought it over. "No problem. I'm sure I'm going to be having a lot of folks wanting to talk to me about my life choices as of late."
Deaks grinned knowingly at him. "Yeah, no kidding."
"I'll say this though, I-"
Duncan stopped. His mouth shut whilst his eyes locked onto the three people he'd come here to see.
Olivia was walking with a suitcase trailing behind her. Arthur and Christa stood in front of her carrying backpacks. Olivia's sullen bearing was the same as everyone else around. There was no sign of a spark in the eyes of the kids. Christa looked worried.
Arthur was different. He didn't seem to have a grasp on what he was feeling. There were too many emotions flickering through his face as he caught sight of the one person that was the cause of all this.
Duncan could see it written all over him. He was hurt, he was angry, and to the surprise of Olivia and Christa, he was starting to walk out of the line. In alarm they called after him but stopped when they saw who he was walking to.
Duncan didn't move a muscle. He was ready.
He noticed another ODST further down the line that was on his way to intercept Arthur. "Hey, kid, get back in line."
Arthur didn't appear to hear him. He didn't even react as he kept coming, hands balled into tight fists at his side and a look on his face that could pierce stone. Duncan felt it piercing through him as well. Nowadays it usually took more to intimidate him: a Jackal with a beam rifle, an Elite with an energy sword or a Hunter with a bad attitude. Arthur was none of those things and yet he had to fight the urge to back away from him.
"Hey kid." The ODST called as he came closer. "Don't make me ask again-"
Duncan stepped in. "Don't worry. I can handle him. I'll send him back."
The trooper looked between him, Arthur and Deaks. The corporal looked to Duncan in turn, questioningly.
"Can I get a second?" Duncan asked.
Deaks stared a moment longer before nodding off to him and stepping away.
Arthur didn't pay attention to anything else until he came to a stop right in front of the one he wanted to see. His fists tightened.
Even though his head was mostly facing down, Duncan heard his sniffling. Then Arthur looked up and met him face to face. His eyes were red and glazed over. He was gritting his teeth and visibly trying not to cry.
Duncan didn't know what to say. He didn't think there was anything for him to say that would help either. He contended with the anxiousness constricting his lungs until Arthur opened his mouth.
No words came out. There was only a choked murmur that died in his throat. His lips quivered. His breathing, already ragged, picked up speed and turned into a growl.
Arthur ran the last couple of steps towards him, reeled back and threw a punch. The blow connected. The feeling didn't. The tactical vest was too strong, yet Duncan could feel a different kind of pain from it. Arthur threw another punch at his stomach much stronger than the last. Stronger but not effective. Arthur began a steady pattern of punches, grunting louder as he tried hitting harder each time. The commotion drew the concerned curiosity of others in the line as they passed. Eventually Arthur was screaming and punching despite that it did nothing except earn the stares of some of the ODSTs.
With a final scream he drew back his fist. His footing was off and as he threw the punch, it made an impact but his foot slipped out from under him. His momentum sent him face first into the rocky dirt at Duncan's feet.
He didn't get up right away.
Duncan reached down to help him out of fear that something was wrong, but Arthur batted his hand away. The boy's chest started to heave in a rising bout of sniffling. With a whimper he slowly pushed himself onto his knees then back onto his feet. The fall had covered him from head to toe in dust. His lip was bleeding.
His hands relaxed and his shoulders slumped as he cried. "Is-...is this...what you were using the tunnel for?"
Duncan watched the first tears slip down his cheek, carving long trails across the dirt on his face.
Getting no answer, Arthur cried harder. "W- weren't...weren't we-…weren't we...friends?"
Duncan's jaw remained locked in place despite that he desperately wanted to open it.
"You played with me. I-, I let you use my ball. I-, I...let you play. We played together. You even helped me get my ball back." He held out his trembling hands to him. "...Why?"
But no reply came.
Arthur pointed at the passing crowds. "What did they do to you? Huh? What did they-...what did I do to you?"
Silence.
"AMADDS already stole my dad from me. Now you're stealing my home from me. Why do you all hate me? What did I do? Huh, what did I do? What did my grandma do? What did anyone here do to you?"
Duncan drew in a shaky breath and spoke as carefully as he could. "...Isn't New Carthage your home? You can go back now. You can go there and do what you said you couldn't do here. Gravball, remember?"
Hot anger flashed through Arthur's visage that made Duncan wince. "Is that where you think we're going?"
No answer.
"Is that where you think they're taking us!?"
The shout attracted more attention from the crowds as well as ODSTs. Duncan held up a hand for the latter to let him handle the situation. He crouched down in front of Arthur in the hopes of getting him to quiet down.
"Arty-"
"We're not going to New Carthage." Arthur seethed. "They're taking us to refugee camps. Ref-u-gee camps. We're going to be refugees for the rest of our lives. That's what my grandma told me. No one gets taken back to a normal life after that. And you knew that, didn't you?"
Duncan didn't answer. He couldn't, because he genuinely hadn't thought about that. Of all the things he'd considered in the last few weeks, that hadn't been one of them. The UNSC could not simply risk having Insurrectionist affiliated persons return to the normal civilian population. A painful truth.
Arthur pointed at Hayth. "At least here I could have done what I wanted. I could play how I wanted and keep thinking that maybe one day I might go back. Now...you ruined that!"
He yanked off his backpack, opened a zipper and pulled out his soccer ball. "Take it." He threw the ball at him fast and Duncan barely managed to catch it. "I don't want it anymore so you can have it. At least that way you don't have to steal it from me like everything else."
Duncan sensed his restrained façade about to give way when he saw Olivia and Christa cautiously coming over.
"And hey." Arthur said, sniffling as he smiled defiantly. "Maybe where we're going it won't be so bad. At least I won't have to see your face anymore. That's something."
Duncan felt the heat welling up behind his eyes which gradually glazed over.
Arthur saw it. When he did, his defiant smile widened then steadily dropped away. His gaze fell to the soccer ball in his arms. He kept looking between Duncan and the ball. He started to reach out, hesitated and drew his trembling hands back. Instead, he wrapped them around himself and began to cry again, louder than the last time.
Olivia stopped at his side. She didn't meet Duncan's eye except for once when he saw her hardened demeanor give way to a soft reminiscence. Whatever she remembered, she squelched the thought and wrapped her arms around Arthur. She pulled him close to let him cry into her chest, picked up his pack and walked him back towards the line with her.
Duncan was left holding the ball in the crux of his arm. He kept staring at it. He almost didn't notice when Christa walked up to him. There were tears in her eyes too. However, they were matched by a genuine smile.
He pried his mouth open. "I-, I'm..."
"It's okay." She said mercifully. "I'm already used to this, remember? I barely know what it means but I know I'm already a refugee. You saved me the first time. Back in that store you saved me again, me and Arthur." Then she did the unexpected and wrapped him in a hug as she lay her head on his shoulder. "I came to say thanks...for everything."
Her words cut through the haze in his mind. To him, it was like the new feeling of Noah embracing him for the first time, unfamiliar and warm. Tears rolled down his cheek and hers as well as he returned the hug.
After five long seconds he let her go. "Make sure to look out for-...for yourself, alright, and Arthur too. He'll need you."
Christa tried to speak and her need to cry stopped her. She nodded, took her hands off his shoulders, turned away and began walking back to the line. Olivia was waiting for her with Arthur still crying on her chest. Together they rejoined the procession.
But Christa looked back at him and waved.
Duncan raised a hand, holding it motionlessly in a silent goodbye.
Then they were out of sight as they reached the split in the line and joined the group headed for the Santiago.
Duncan took one last long look at the soccer ball. He stood up and did his best to hold in what had almost come out while wiping away everything that had.
Deaks and the other ODST came to his side.
"That's kind of weird." The other trooper said. "The only resistance we got from these guys was a kid trying to throw punches and another one giving you a hug. It's not much but, hey, I'm not complaining."
"...Yeah..."
Deaks put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you good?"
"...Yeah..."
"What was all that about?"
"...A ball." Duncan said. "Just a ball."
:********:
Nova hated this job.
She wasn't a construction worker for God's sake, she was an ODST. An Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. A specialist. So the last thing she should have found herself doing that morning was shoveling dirt around. Sure, they needed to bury bodies and all that jazz. All the same, that was something she figured the surviving maintenance personnel could do. They'd been digging around the place when Epsilon arrived. Why couldn't they do that now?
Sadly for her, the Staff and the captains of Alpha's 5th and 6th Platoons hadn't seen things the same way. They didn't trust them enough to let them have tools. Thus, the current task fell to everyone else.
It took no less than a full week for the storm to pass. The instant it was gone, the troopers in Land Control that had survived the siege went to work. With the appearance of the Jackal ship and the close quarters fighting that unfolded in the aftermath, the ODSTs at the LC were looking at 4 dead and 7 wounded. The numbers weren't bad considering what they'd done in exchange. The final count was 23 armed maintenance personnel killed and 45 captured. The count for the Jackals was nothing less than complete annihilation for the 70 that made the assault. Many had actually gotten into the building, leading to fighting from hallway to hallway, room to room and cubicle to cubicle. Thankfully the Jackal's ship hadn't done them in so bad that they couldn't hold their own. The debris from the dissected corridors and other damaged infrastructure gave them defensive positions they wouldn't have otherwise had. They'd won. But that was sort of the problem. They'd won too much and now there were too many enemy dead to take care of.
At first there was no way to remove the bodies because of the storm. Captain D'Amato of 6th Platoon came up with the solution of packing them into some of the garages. They sealed them in there for the better part of the waiting period. When they opened them again on the morning of the last day, they found the garages stunk to high heaven. All the corpses had already started the putrification process. They were expecting it of course. However, no one could have expected the smell.
Nova was beginning to discern the difference between human and Jackal decomposition. Humans had that dull odor of decaying amino acids that made them share more in common with high-school gym lockers than living people. Jackals were worse. Much worse. Theirs was a sharp, pungent odor that stung so bad that it felt like someone had set the inside of her nostrils on fire. She wished she had her helmet on so she could filter it out. Then again, that might not have been enough and her armor might stink of Jackal anyway. The best she could do was wrap a rag around her nose and mouth and take shallow breaths.
The ODSTs of 5th Platoon and Epsilon were digging a mass grave in front of the eastern embankment. The maintenance personnel had cleared away enough space from the Pele-5 units beforehand for them to make burial grounds. They were nothing more than two large holes. The smallest was for the humans. The largest was still being made for the Jackals on account of their larger numbers.
Epsilon assisted Squads Banjo and Burner with the Jackal grave. Virtually no one was wearing their armor out of the same fear of having the stink get into those as well. They were in their regular 'ODST' shirts and camouflage pants, clothes they were more willing to sacrifice.
They each got a shovel and a direction to throw the dirt: forward. Once the hole was wide enough, the 6th's Squad Domino brought in wheelbarrows filled to the brim with buzzard corpses. They dumped them unceremoniously down the decline so that they rolled to the center and piled up there.
Nova hated the fact that they even needed to do this on the basis of, as the Staff put it, 'hiding the evidence'. They were making sure no future Covenant visitors to Kholo saw that their earlier forces were beaten. It would make them less wary and more 'manageable' once they looked around.
Mito, Zack and Rico were working on the same side of the hole as her.
Zack, having grown tired the fastest, was the first to plant his shovel in the ground. He held his shirt up to his nose to smell it. He flinched and let it go. "Yup, I'm burning this."
"Same here." Rico grunted.
"It's for the best." Nova added.
Mito looked him over as he tossed out another pile of dirt. "I don't know if you should."
Zack looked at him funny. "Oh, and why's that?"
"Because it might just be an improvement to how you usually smell."
A round of light laughter passed among those within earshot. Zack grinned. "Oh yeah, well I bet you're just smelling like incense all the time, aren't you?"
"Hey, woah-woah-woah." Mito planted his shovel in the ground and leaned on it. "That's kind of racist, my man. Are you assuming I use incense just because of my heritage?"
"...Well, don't you?"
Mito smiled. "Yeah, I do. I'm just messing with you."
"Hah."
"Now don't go around making those assumptions about anyone else that looks like me or-"
"Or what?" Zack pointed at the sheathed Yamamoto Murasakino that was ever on his back. "They'll use their katana on me to defend their honor like you did with that poor Field Marshal?"
"Yes, I know, I'm a walking stereotype. That doesn't mean everyone else is though."
"To be honest," Rico chimed in, stabbing his own shovel into the soil. "I kind of wish everyone else was you. Madre de Dios, hermano, if everyone could hack down a technologically advanced, two-meter-tall murder machine with a centuries old sword then I think we would've been a lot closer to winning this war by now. Just my opinion but I really wish we had your ancestors in the ODSTs. They knew what was up."
"They could have dug this hole for us too." Nova said sarcastically. "But they're not here, they're dead, and we need to deal with these dead, so hurry it up. I want out of here as soon as possible."
"But they're not dead, Nova-san." Mito gently corrected. "They still exist on one of the three plains, just probably not this one."
Zack cocked his head. "Three? Wait, I thought you were Buddhist."
"Wait, you know about Buddhism?" Nova asked.
"I had to study pre-colonial religions in high school."
Nova took another shovel-full of dirt and threw it out. "You know, I honestly wonder how smart you would have actually gotten if you went to college."
Zack shrugged. "Eh. I'm smart enough already. You said you're not Buddhist though?"
Mito shook his head. "No, I subscribe to Guataman Shintoism. It's a bit of a newer interpretation of Buddhism and Shintoism. Some folks from Newsaka introduced it on Earth back in the early half of the 25th century."
"Huh, well I didn't know that." Zack nodded at the pile of Jackals. "Think there's a heaven for them?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"'Cause I'm a man of faith, Zack, but I'm not a hardline polytheist, at least not in their case. I'm betting on their Gods not being the real deal because, well, they ordered our destruction for no reason and all that. Who knows, maybe their Gods are my devils." Mito pointed at them. "Besides, when I die, you really think I want to be seeing these things up there? No thank you."
Zack laughed. "You know, for someone who doesn't like hasty generalizations you sure are a specist."
"Aren't we all?"
"Well," Zack looked around to the others. "Like the Staff always says..."
"Fair enough." The rest of the squad said, finishing the inference and getting a laugh out of it.
"Yeah, I don't think there's anything for these guys. I'd hope not anyway. Otherwise, that'll make me raise some serious philosophical questions about this whole thing, and that's one Pandora's box I'm not willing to open just yet."
"We believe you, Mito." Hector said from further down. "We believe you. Just wish you could swing that shovel as fast as you can that sword. Zack, same to you."
"Oh, you caught on to how I was trying to slack off, did you?" Zack whined.
"Yeah, now hurry up."
"But I'm pretty sure I'm don-..."
The distant sound of engines made everyone look skyward. A squadron of five Pelican dropships zoomed in from the west. They swooped down on a gentle descent and landed on the grounds between them and Land Control. With a whir of hydraulics, the Pelicans' bay doors fell open. Marines stormed out. They fanned out to secure the area, amounting to a platoon in all. One of the squads exited the middle Pelican ahead of two men, one sporting a lab coat and the other a navy officer's uniform.
"Who're they?" Zack asked.
To answer that question, the Staff speared his shovel into the ground. He came out of the hole and walked over to them.
Nova took a closer look.
As they turned to the Staff, she noted the difference between their dispositions. The Navy officer she assumed to be a captain from the rank insignia on his shoulder patches. By the light wrinkles on his forehead, the long jawline and the way his graying brown hair was receding in a V-shape above his temples, he was in his mid 40s. There was something about him that gave off the impression of everyone's least favorite stepfather.
The same couldn't be said for the guy in the lab coat who looked roughly the same age with the same hair, just cut short. The similarities ended there. He was a four-eyes, as expected, with a square face and the soft features and narrow gait indicative of an academic type. That and the child-like wonder in his eyes as he looked around made it clear he was the kind of guy that spent a lot of time in an office.
The Staff stopped in front of them. Nova strolled onto the brim of the mass grave to watch them talk. Hector ambled up next to her.
"Who're they?" Nova asked, parroting Zack's question.
"That navy guy over there," Hector replied, rolling the remains of his bandaged right earlobe between thumb and forefinger, "Is Captain Del Rio. He's in charge of the UNSC Santiago. He matches the picture I saw of him on the task force roster at least. No clue about the other one though."
Zack joined them. "Hey, how come that Rio-guy looks so miserable?"
"Heck if I know." Hector said. "He looked the same on the picture."
"Oh. Nice pun by the way."
"I try."
The Staff stopped talking to the two arrivals and turned to face the three standing on the top of the hole. He waved them over. "Ep-2, 4 and 7, on me. Bring your shovels and mine."
The three of them looked at each other and went back to retrieve their tools.
"Guess we're about to find out what they came for." Nova groaned.
Zack grumbled as he tailed after them towards the Pelicans. "It better not be to bury anymore bodies or I'm adding a new one to the list."
"Who? Yourself?" Hector laughed. "Chill out buddy, there's worse jobs we could be doing."
"Like?"
Hector thought about it and shrugged. "Honestly, I got nothin'."
They passed the detachment of Marines and the aisles of Pelicans before stopping short of the meeting. Captain Del Rio examined them with a critical eye then nodded affirmatively. "I think this will do." He turned to the man with the lab coat. "Your opinion, doctor?"
The doctor was so engrossed in analyzing the troopers of 6th Platoon working across the grid that he was surprised when he was called. "Pa-, pardon?"
"Strawson, please pay attention. We only have so much time. These troopers are volunteering to help you with your findings."
"Ah, right." He fixed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Good afternoon, or is it morning? I can't really tell around here, everything's glowing. I'm Dr. Strawson and I'll need your help digging up the ground beneath one of these Pele-5 units. I want to take some samples of the soil."
"Can't you take it as is?" Zack asked. "We've got plenty of dirt around here in case you haven't-"
Nova elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up. The Staff and Del Rio glared at him. At length, the captain gestured for Dr. Strawson to continue.
"Yes, well, I would if that was what I needed. However, I require specific access to the soil around the Pele-5 units in order to see the effects of the technology. Since a dust storm has been passing over here for a week now, I'll need your help accessing that lower sediment. Is...that okay with you?"
"Okay?" Zack huffed. "Like we have a choi-"
A second elbowing from Hector helped him catch the hint.
"Okay okay, I get it. Sure man, we'll help you out. Great, my side hurts now."
"Right this way." The Staff said and led them with a squad of guardian Marines close behind.
All across Grid-20, the Pele-5 Land Reformer system was being uprooted one node in the network at a time. Mr. Green was still in the system assisting the troopers of 6th Platoon with deactivating everything. What that created was a forest of pylons folding down to their bases like blossoming flowers in reverse. The heating plates were retracting towards each other in a manner mirroring a deck of cards. They slid beneath the surface, causing the ground there to fall and form shallow trenches around Land Control. Deactivated pylons were pulled out and hoisted into storage containers atop the mobile platforms that carried them. The heating plates had buckets of water thrown across their surface, cooling them down in bursts of steam before stacking them up on the same platforms. The handful of remaining drones were similarly being landed on the outskirts to prepare them for extraction. The surviving workers of the LC were assembled under guard outside its front steps. As for Land Control itself, ODSTs were actively moving through the building. They were setting up explosive charges for the demolition phase of their departure. The order to leave infrastructure intact only applied to Hayth. Everything else was fair game. No one was keen on having stragglers or smugglers returning to Starship Row or Land Control in order to use their surviving amenities for a base of operations. They had no such intention for leaving Hayth as it was either, though the word was that the commanders had something else in mind for it.
The group stopped at a connective pylon that troopers from Squad Bruiser were pulling out of the ground. They hoisted it onto a mobile platform, leaving behind a hole in the earth. It was one meter deep and exposed several different layers of the soil, or it did until the pylon's base was removed. The additional layer of looser dirt left by the storm now poured down into the hole, burying the muddy earth beneath.
"Let's get to it, Epsilon." The Staff said. They crouched above the edge. They lanced their shovels down into the dirt to toss it out of the way. All the while, Strawson, Del Rio and the Marines stood a few steps back. The Navy group were just far enough out of ear range for Zack to strike up a whispering chat.
"Can't believe this guy's making us work extra just to get his hands on some wet dirt. I'm tired as is."
Hector grunted from the strain of lifting up his newest haul. "Says the guy who's barely working. I'd like a vacation myself but I think we both know this is as good as it gets."
"Actually, I think he wants us to get clay." Nova said. "That's what it looked like.
"Think so?"
"Any progress?" Del Rio called over, sounding increasingly impatient.
The four of them turned to him. "Not yet." The Staff answered.
"How much time do you need, Staff?"
"Five minutes tops."
"We can't do five. Make it three or we'll find someone else who can do the job faster."
"...Understood sir."
The four of them got back to it.
"Why don't you come and do your own dirty work, you long-faced jerk?" Zack huffed.
"He's not a jerk, Zack." The Staff rebutted in a monotone voice. "He's a commanding officer."
"You're our commanding officer and you're mostly not a jerk."
"Mostly?"
"Respectfully, sir, you have your moments."
"...Fair enough."
"Please focus." Del Rio called again, a growing grimace on his face and hands officiously folded behind his back. "The less chatty you are, the faster we finish this."
The four went back to the job again.
"I really don't like him." Nova hissed under her breath. "And I just met him for God's sake."
Hector chuckled. "I think the feeling's mutual. I wonder why he's down here though and not on his ship. He is a captain. Shouldn't he be doing, I don't know, captainy things?"
"That's not a word, Heck, but you're right. My guess is he's the acting entourage to this Dr. Strawson, whoever he is." She peered over her shoulder at the two men before returning to her task. "He must be someone important to need to keep him on a tight leash like that. I bet 30 cred he's babysitting him. Or he just came to be annoying."
"Progress?" Del Rio called again.
"None to report, sir." the Staff replied, earning a sharper grimace from the captain and a sympathetic grin from everyone else.
"That last one's pretty fair." He said. "I'm ready to use my shovel for more than digging now. Let's finish this quick and be done with it."
Nova and the others nodded in silent agreement and kept digging.
:********:
Izari had endured the painful wait that it took for the dust storm to pass, during which time he suffered through the agony of the sniper wound in his shoulder. He managed to use what medical supplies he had on hand to keep the wound from leading to his end.
Then there was his charge, Kirkley.
Upon seeing the dead human with its cratered face, he abandoned it to run for cover.
He stayed hidden in the ruins, waiting for his chance to escape. That chance came once the storm passed, freeing him to withdraw to his unit's personal exfiltration craft. He found the Seraph fighter at the bottom of a valley, right where he'd left it. The fighter was still in good condition, albeit covered in dust.
Izari hopped inside, made contact with the main ship and took off from the planet as the lone survivor of his team.
Waiting cloaked in the planet's exosphere was the DAV-class light corvette High Fervency. Even without seeing it, he could mentally recall its design from times that it wasn't camouflaged. The nearly 500-meter-long vessel was a smaller version of the SDV class with its reduced size allowing for more versatility and maneuverability. It still possessed the same gently curving, bulbous bow of the SDV, the circular midsection as well as the encircling brace structure extending from bow to stern. The armaments were few primarily because the craft's main purpose was intelligence gathering and evasion, not direct assault. Nevertheless, the ship's possession of heavy plasma cannons made it a force to be reckoned with.
Rangers tended to use these ship classifications more, whereas Silent Shadows were regulars of Intrusion-class corvettes. But the DAV was preferential for the mission. This was expected to be no ordinary operation for the Silent Shadows as Izari himself had found out firsthand.
Sitting in the pilot seat of his Seraph's cockpit, he was left alone with his thoughts.
He was afraid.
It was a first in his life. Fear was something to be looked down upon in Sangheili society, not meditated on. Yet another sin to add to his growing list.
There was no denying that the operation was a categorical failure. Kirkley was slain and not even by his hand. So was the shipmistress, Nezith Fel, once he learned that her ship, the Honorable Spoils, had been destroyed along with all of the Chu'ot Marauders that accompanied her. Heaping failure upon failure and shame upon shame, both Toha and Gruko were dead. There would be no intelligence gained from Kirkley, no replacement of shipmasters for the Honorable Spoils and no victorious return trip for his team. He doubted he himself would return to his clan and his keep. He planned to kill himself before then. However, he was committed to first taking responsibility for his failures before the Sangheili in charge of this operation.
He piloted his Seraph to the preestablished rendezvous coordinates. Not long after, a portion of the space around him shifted. The stars slid away to reveal an open hanger bay. He flew inside, passed through the energy barrier and landed his craft on the circular floor.
He left the cockpit and walked down the Seraph's exit ramp as the hanger doors slid shut. The moment he was out, the craft's autopilot kicked in. It flew upwards to lock onto the ceiling docks already holding several other Seraphs. There were Huragok and Unggoy service personnel moving about the floor. The former floated about while managing vehicular inspections for the starfighters. The latter went to and fro ferrying cargo crates and plasma cells. Any that saw him passing made certain to keep their distance. For that he was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do was to bring himself more shame by killing friendly forces out of anger.
Izari travelled through the labyrinthine hallways of the midship. Soon he was coming down the last passage that ended in the doors to the bridge. Two minors stood guard at either side. They didn't salute him. They merely let him pass without acknowledging his presence, as was proper behavior towards a Sangheili in his situation.
The bridge seemed more cavernous than it did on his last visit. Set within the bow, it was comprised of an encompassing perimeter platform surrounded by a lower level of displays and consoles. The stations were occupied by Sangheili crew managing the various functions of the ship.
Standing at the center of the command platform was the silver-armored shipmaster of the High Fervency, his commanding officer, Kevaro Kovatumee. Kovatumee was focused on the proportioned holograph of the planet Kholo rotating within the projection area before him. He heard the doors close and turned to Izari. The rest of the crew also noticed him but held their peace.
Izari stopped short of the bridge's holotank, bowed his head and kneeled.
"Your report?" Kovatumee asked, his foreboding tone a sign that he already knew the truth.
Izari laid out the course of events from beginning to end. He spared no detail no matter how damning. At the end of his report, he felt the shipmaster's anger bearing down on him.
"After all that you still decided to return?" Kovatumee said and laughed. "You are a wise fool. Such an irony can be written over your tomb. I should kill you right where you kneel."
Izari unhesitantly reached for his energy sword and cast it aside so that it skidded across the floor for all to see. "Do as you wish. I will not stop you."
Kovatumee glared at him for a long while. The air filled with a tension that broke as he reached for his own energy sword, only to stop short of it. "Are you certain your entire team have all perished?"
Izari nodded. "Yes, shipmaster. Both my-"
"Commander, I have an urgent contact."
The two turned to one of the communications officers manning a nearby console.
"What is it?" Kovatumee asked.
"It's an urgent communication request from...2nd Blade Officer Toha M'darumee."
Izari's blood froze to an icy chill. He shook his head and got onto his feet. "Impossible. That's impossible. I saw him..."
Kovatumee's attention shifted from him to the communications officer and he strode over to his station. "Perhaps he somehow survived without your knowledge. Tell me, where is he contacting us from and by what means?"
The officer typed on his console and the information scrolled over his display. "From outside the human settlement, 20 kilometers south. He is using his armor's comm equipment to establish a long-range contact. The signal's weak. I do not know how long I can maintain it."
"Perhaps he escaped then. Accept the hail. Put him on my screen. We'll need to know his condition."
"Understood, shipmaster."
Izari remained quiet. He could see the memory playing out; them leaving with Kirkley, the ambush, him dashing away with their target as Toha succumbed to the barrage from the shock troops. How could he still be alive? Unless...
The communications officer finished typing. "Signal coming through in three, two, now."
A feed appeared on the forward screen.
Izari's eyes twitched. It wasn't a Sangheili face on the screen but that of an elderly human smiling a proud, toothy smile. No, Izari realized. It wasn't human. Humans didn't glow a luminous green as this one was.
"Hello there, thanks for answering the door." The artificial intelligence said. "I just came to inform you that you're all going to die. That said, do have a nice day."
As quickly as it came, the feed shut off of its own accord, leaving everyone on the bridge in shocked silence. Less than a heartbeat later, emergency sirens blared across the room. Officers from every station shouted panicked status reports.
"Our stealth coating is coming offline!"
"Our repulsor drives are shutting down! Who initiated this!?"
"Our energy shields are disabled! Our systems have been infiltrated!"
"Shipmaster, what do we do!?"
Kovatumee gawked at the sudden change in their circumstances. Izari was similarly stunned.
Another officer pointed to the other screens. "Enemy ships uncloaking off our port and starboard bow!"
Izari looked. Two different views showed human ships practically manifesting from the void of space, one on their portside and the other starboard. The first was larger than the second and more intimidating. He'd never seen those designs before. Nor did he expect to see them creeping towards the High Fervency.
"They're going to board us! Shipmaster, orders!?"
Before the shipmaster could issue any such orders a loud hissing noise filled the room. An explosion of air caused Izari's eardrums to burst. The air whipped wildly about the bridge, getting sucked into the ceiling ventilation by what he understood to be a catastrophic depressurization.
His helmet automatically switched to its oxygen reserves though not fast enough to save his ringing ears. The bridge crew were not so fortunate. The officers clutched at their throats or clawed at air that wasn't there anymore. A loss of their artificial gravity followed, sending the suffocating Sangheili floating across the room.
Kovatumee was holding on to the holotank for dear life. His jaws snapped wildly about in search of oxygen.
Izari was resolved. He knew instinctively what had to be done now that the enemy had followed him here.
He grabbed onto parts of the flooring and clawed his way over to the shipmaster. He took hold of him with one hand and pulled off his helmet. He took in one last deep breath and pulled off his own helmet then secured it over the officer's head.
Kovatumee's twitching movements grew more coherent in response to the renewed air supply, though they were too faint to fight the loss of gravity. Izari mouthed the words 'self-destruct'. Kovatumee nodded weakly and pointed to the command console on the opposite side of the projection area.
"The code is 75447." He said. "Quickly. There isn't much time..." Kovatumee slowly slipped out of reach and spiraled towards the ceiling.
Izari set his sights on the command console. It was separate from the rest of the ship's systems, free from the assault of this foreign intelligence. With a growing fire burning in his lungs, he kicked off from the holotank and floated forward. He pulled himself along using creases in the floor and the surrounding support braces.
His fingers reached out and gained purchase on the console. He pulled himself in and got underway, typing through one security interface after the next. He found the vessel's main plasma battery function that he was searching for. On the verge of blacking out, he typed in the code and put his finger over the launch symbol.
For all the humans had done to them, to his team, to him, he could still deny them one thing: this ship. There was at least some honor in that, wasn't there?
He pressed the symbol.
:********:
From the forward screens of the UNSC Aladdin, Rear Admiral Rich watched in awe as the plasma lines on the stealth frigate began heating up without warning. They brightened into a blinding illumination.
"Sheraton, pull us back 10 kilometers!" He shouted to the navigations officer. He pressed the comm-unit on his command chair. "Rich to Gladston, get some distance from the target now!"
Both the nav officer and the captain of the UNSC Gladston responded with a swift; "Aye sir!"
The two prowlers flared their drives and flew back from the enemy ship. A moment later, the craft's illumination turned deadly. The stealth corvette detonated in a flash of bright blue light. The fiery blaze expanded then diminished, hurling away enflamed gases and pieces of shattered debris, large and small, in all directions.
Rich stood up from his seat, a scowl affixed to his mouth. "How did they-? I thought we had their systems locked down. Green?"
Mr. Green appeared in his wheelchair atop the holo-pedestal beside his seat. He looked disappointed. "My apologies, sir."
"What happened? Didn't your disguise as that Elite work?"
"It did. However, it seems that they possessed a station that was segregated from the main system. I couldn't access it in time. My apologies."
Rich sat back onto his chair and exhaled his frustrations.
They'd had the ship. They detected its presence when it let that Seraph into its hanger. Apparently, its shipmaster must have only seen the other two prowlers that went groundside. They must have mistaken them for being the only ships that the UNSC had brought in-system. That made them feel comfortable enough to expose themselves if for the briefest instant. It was such a useful blunder, yet a factor they hadn't counted on had undone all of that.
It was the second ship to get away from him today. The other, a Parabola-class freighter identified as the Mayweather, had been detected fleeing through the eastern hemisphere shortly after 0700 Hours. The ship was able to escape into slipspace before he could intercept it. Not to mention that its slipspace wake collapsed fast enough for neither his prowler nor the Gladston to be able to pursue it.
Then there was this latest headache.
"I would've liked us to have that stealth corvette. I guess we don't deserve nice things."
"The Office has enough toys already, doesn't it?" Green asked.
"It's not enough until we win the war, Green. I'm sure you understand that."
"I do."
"Right. We don't have much of a reason left to be here then. How far out are Cape Horn and Santiago?"
Green pointed to one of the screens which changed to show a camera view of the atmosphere below. Two dots were ascending into the exosphere. A quick zoom in showed the pair of prowlers, UNSC Cape Horn and Santiago rocketing towards them.
"Good. We've been up here too long already. Everyone's accounted for?"
"Everyone, sir."
"The last SHIVA?"
"The ODSTs helped me bury it beneath the Bastille. I've linked it to the Oden's Eye satellite we're leaving behind. That way we can detonate it at our leisure, along with anyone that happens to make the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Hmph, good." Rich pulled out his golden flask and took a swig of the expensive whiskey inside. He thought again on ONI's plans for the planet. Operation RED SAHARA's newest platform would act as a lure for any illegal, anti-UNSC factions or any more Covenant forces that entered the system in the future. The destruction of that stealth corvette came with one advantage. In the case of the Covenant, any reinforcements would arrive with no knowledge of what to expect aside from the possibility that the corvette had transmitted some information to them. He doubted it would be sufficient to help them understand the trap they would be walking into. They would find the town, destroy it for being there and potentially sanitize the entire planet a second time like the OCD cultists they were. Better yet, they might send a scouting force to search the town for signs of life. In that case they would detonate the last SHIVA from star systems away and kick the enemy in the teeth regardless.
They were leaving behind a town-sized booby-trap for Insurrectionists or Covenant. Then there was the third faction he was predicting. Specifically, he wasn't sure if Dr. Schonberg and his escapees had left the planet or not. The Mayweather was beneath the storm for a long period. There was a chance that the doctor had fled the system alongside any parties within convenient proximity. There was also the chance Schonberg was still here. If he was then this would be a trap for him. Schonberg was a wanted dead man in the eyes of the Office. If he was on the run, they would find him. On the off chance he was on the planet, he was about to be left behind with no way off and no civilization to return to; none save for a town ready to explode on the demand of the people that most wanted him dead.
Either way he was a dead man. Now that they had his technologies, they wouldn't need him. All they needed was to win the war and have a revolutionary mind that could figure out how to utilize his technologies on a planetary scale.
"I hope to God that Halsey doesn't end up being that revolutionary mind." He thought aloud. "Making her humanity's last hope for restoring places like these is the last thing ONI needs."
"On the contrary, I believe Dr. Halsey would be the best mind for it, sir." Green said, budding in to his self-conversation. He raised his hand and eyed the code running through his avatar. "In fact, I wouldn't mind picking her brain about a few things I've learned."
"Not going to happen, Green."
"I know, sir, but I imagine it would be an enlightening conversation. My creator was a genius in his own right, but I almost can't imagine the quality of artificial intelligence her brain would make. A conversation with an AI of that caliber? Now that would be enlightening."
"I think you're taking that 'pick her brain' thing a bit too seriously."
Green laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Perhaps, sir. Perhaps."
"You seem to have had a good time in their systems."
"I have. Now I'm ready to show you all what I've found, you all and Dr. Strawson. He's made repeated requests to get data out of me about the Land Reformer. He's quite the persistent one."
"I can imagine. He's ONI but I only want you giving him what's sanctioned for his clearance level. Keep what's for us separate."
"Already categorized it into folders, encrypted and secured for special eyes alone."
"Good, keep it that way. I don't need Margaret getting on my case for data leaks. She's already too good at finding them as it is."
"Of course, sir."
Rich took one last look at the pieces of the stealth corvette floating away from the blast area. Another long drink from his flask later, he thumbed the stopper into place and slipped it into his pants pocket.
"Sheraton, get us underway."
"Aye, sir." The Nav officer said and entered the slipspace coordinates to begin their departure procedures.
In front of them, the UNSC Cape Horn and Santiago flew past the forward viewing glass. One by one they opened rifts into the alternate space and disappeared inside. The Gladston followed suit. Then a rift opened in front of them. Rich braced himself in his seat and prepared for the long ride back as the prowler shot into slipspace, leaving behind the empty space of Hicetas and the dead world of Kholo.
Insciente vinctum - Homeward Bound
