Chapter 14 – Liberandum

(7th Cycle, 20 Units - Covenant Battle Calendar), 9th Age of Reclamation

Daedalus system, Ballast

:********:

Their descent would be swift.

The way was clear.

Their goal was in sight.

Tartarus had watched as the Divine Confession's last salvo disappeared into the gaping hole in the ground where the human facility had once existed. The subterranean complex was reduced to an inferno as a fiery abyss was drilled through its heart one bombardment at a time. He was patient enough to observe with calmness as the last three torpedoes flashed inside, detonating with a distinctively hollow explosion a moment later.

He watched it all from the partially open hangar bay of his Phantom as the salvos ceased. His starboard-side position offered a circling view of burning earth, red-hot metal fragments that jutted out like teeth, and at its center, the throat of the abyss itself that burned bright. To anyone else it was a vision of hell. To the discerning, as his uncle would put it, it was the way to salvation. With faith, devotion and a final show of plasma artillery, the way into the good graces of the Gods had been opened.

The Divine Confession's shipmaster spoke into his comm-unit shortly thereafter, merely to confirm what Tartarus could see with his own eyes.

"Our sensors detect a cavern within. Your way is clear. Advance and recover our charge."

"I will tell you when I have found the oracle." Tartarus said. "Until then, finish your preparations. Once we have it, our withdrawal must be swift."

Perhaps sensing Tartarus' commanding air, the shipmaster's tone shifted to a mild displeasure. "I will be prepared. The question is, will you?"

"That is no question. I will have it. You need only concern yourself with our departure." Tartarus ended the conversation there by squelching the channel. He switched to communications with his pack. "Bearers, our victory lies below. Begin your descent."

At his order, the two Phantoms ceased from their encirclement. They began gliding down towards the abyss, circling one another in a downwards spiral. Approaching the surface, Tartarus felt the heat of the surrounding flames wash over him. He cared little for the temperature aside from the one burning within him, the one that enabled him to block out everything else while drawing a grin across his face; the desire to win. As the two Phantoms slowed, oriented themselves properly and began a more direct descent, Tartarus knew this achievement as well as the day itself would both belong to the Jirilhanae.

Not the Sangheili.

The dropships passed side by side through a lake of fire that funneled through the surface for 100 meters. From there, they entered into the long tunnel at its center.

The pilots made sure to orient their craft with perfect balance so that a lack thereof would not send them careening into the walls, the burning and glassy surfaces of which gradually grew closer.

The length of the descent gave him an idea of how deep the human facility actually went. He hadn't expected to see what were essentially blown-open cross-sections of maintenance tunnels, hallways and the fiery remains of rooms. It had all been righteously burned through in order to provide them the path they needed.

After a few hundred meters, the last sights of eviscerated substructures fell away. All that remained were layers of vitrified soil and molten bedrock. The scene carried on in the same hellish fashion until finally he made out a growing glow beneath them. As the Bearers behind him had already done, Tartarus grasped a handhold within the interior. He leaned out of the bay to see.

Less than several hundred meters and closing fast lay the bottom of the pit. An assortment of burning boulders and debris lay piled up like a landfill in what appeared to be a subterranean cave. The cavern's mouth was still glowing from the heat of the Divine Confession's energy weapons, as was the debris on the bottom. But not everything was burning.

The moment he saw it, his heart raised its tempo and filled his chest with a swelling pride. He laid eyes on a set of doors near the back of the cave. Their massive size became increasingly apparent the closer they came. He could see that, though featureless, the two metal giants stood open, revealing a lightless space on the other side. A fair amount of the debris had fallen in between the doors, ensuring that they could not be closed.

Tartarus' grin widened to the point that he bared his teeth in zealous glee. The Gods had truly blessed his path and that of his Bearers. They had proven so righteous in rewarding the faith of their followers that they willed it so that the doors were wide open for them. Of course, there was some Jirilhanae assistance involved, but the Gods had wisely guided their actions. They had chosen to bless his own beliefs; that fire and faith go hand in hand.

"Prepare to land." He said and spotted a good landing zone. "Pilots, drop us off at the space directly in front of the doors, but do not land yourselves. We will secure the holy grounds within first."

His pilots replied swiftly: "Yes, commander."

As they reached the last 20 meters of their descent, a thought crossed Tartarus' mind that made him wary. He looked around and sniffed the air in the cavern. There was no sight or scent of the human incursion forces. There was no trace of Ludumee and his Zealots either. The absence of both was a good sign. Perhaps the humans were caught in the bombardment and never made it to the cavern. He hoped that the Sangheili team had suffered the same fate. What was more amusing than to see the fools destroyed by their very own ships, by their own kind no less?

Nevertheless, he remained wary, namely because of the doors. They lay open but it was obvious to anyone and everyone that they were opened during the bombardment, possibly before it even breached the cave.

Were the humans dead or had they somehow found their way inside? The same could be asked of the Zealots. Was divine providence what willed the doors open or something else? Either way, even if the humans had gotten inside, he would have them hunted down and torn to pieces before they could do anything to the oracle. He was of the same mind with the Zealots. If both were in there and fighting over the holy one, he would simply kill them both. One he would destroy as a trapped enemy, the other as a rival lacking the one thing that they would need most; witnesses.

The dropships passed into the cave where the temperature rose to a low boil. He ignored it as they finally slowed, coming to hover two meters above the ground. He was the first to jump out. His bare feet crashed down onto a hot but otherwise bearable spot of open ground. A squad of half-a-dozen of his Bearers leapt down behind him as another squad leapt from the other Phantom. Their boots crunched into the ground, cracking the sparsely vitrified soil. Behind each squad, a pair of Huragok floated out from the hangers and hovered safely to the rear.

Tartarus took one look behind him at the mountain of semi-melted rubble that formed a kind of artificial hill. Seeing the damage done to the cave from the inside, that the debris as well the cave walls themselves were still steaming, he felt more reassured that nothing could have survived.

"Follow me." He said and strode towards the doors.

The path forward was not a straight one. Far from it. Instead, the Bearers had to navigate through a labyrinth of boulders, pushing smaller ones aside while maneuvering around or climbing over larger ones. The Huragok had the easiest time of it since their air sacs buoyed them along. However, they always made sure to stay behind Tartarus, possibly out of acknowledgement that as leader he was to reach the doors first. Or maybe they were more terrified of what lay beyond the doors than of him.

With a final heave, Tartarus rolled aside an exceptionally large boulder that would have given even the most impatient Mgalekgolo a hard time. It settled off to the side, leaving nothing between him and the doors but several-strides' worth of open ground. He was briefly held in awe of the two constructions. They were even larger up close.

His squads came up behind him and the Huragok stopped overhead, both waiting for his next order.

"Commander."

Tartarus turned to the speaker, a Bearer on his right who was pointing down to the ground. The soil between them and the threshold was relatively unvitrified, hence why he could make them out perfectly. Scores of shoeprints were scattered about. Alarmed, Tartarus took a knee to examine them more closely. Though the tracks moved left and right, they all generally headed towards the threshold. They were too small to be Sangheili but just the right size and number to belong to the humans.

Tartarus' grin faded behind a scowl. He smelt the air. To his sore displeasure, multiple scents wafted from the area beyond the doors. Among the many he had never smelt before, there were a number of which he knew well.

Without a word, he reached back and pulled forth the Fist of Rukt. He arose and strode forward with haste. The Bearers followed his example, whipping out spike rifles and grenade launchers as they moved in.

Stepping past the threshold, Tartarus was engulfed in a world without light. The little there was came from the minute amounts of sunlight that still managed to filter in from above. Not that he needed it. His nose was sufficient. He took in a variety of metallic smells that were alien to him, although he didn't need them either because he could notice the change through his feet. The floor was no longer soil but became that of a cool metal. He sensed that wherever he was now, it was a space far larger than the one before it.

To some extent, the only thing he needed were his eyes, because as dark as the space was, it was illuminated enough to know where to go.

He had the three orange lights to thank for that.

They lay straight ahead and so that was where he would go. Moreover, he had a sneaking suspicion about them. He felt that he was looking directly at what their mission was purposed for, at what Ludumee had likely died searching for and what the Hierarchs and the wider faithful so dearly sought.

The idea alone caused his anticipation to resurge with a vengeance. His hope was slowly being restored with each step.

Against his expectations, the smell of the humans was fading rather than growing stronger. That was only possible if they were too far away, or more likely, if they were no longer present. But why, Tartarus wondered, would they leave the most valuable thing here? Why would they leave the oracle behind or not even destroy it in order to deny it to the Covenant, if he was indeed looking at the oracle that is. Whatever the reason, he grew more certain they were gone. His mind could conjure a single explanation for their absence and the oracle's presence. The humans were imbeciles that did not know a valuable thing when they saw it. For that, he inwardly gave thanks to the Gods for giving them such a foolish enemy. No wonder they wanted them all dead. They were too stupid to be allowed to live.

His suspicion about the three lights was confirmed as he stepped out onto what he felt to be a platform. The Bearers came to a stop behind him. They were close enough so that the three lights could expose the finer details of their owner's shape. Though a faint specter amidst the dark, it was roughly the same form and size as that of the first oracle residing aboard the holy ship.

There was no mistaking it. They had found who they were looking for.

Despite absorbing the abundant pride of his newest achievement, the magnitude of the occasion brought Tartarus to kneel before the oracle. The others did not need to see him to mirror his example.

"Holy one, vessel of divinity, our oracle, it is us, your faithful." Tartarus said, beginning one of the most sacred and rarely uttered prayers of the holy writ, the Invocation of Acquisition. "We have partaken in a long journey to see you and to behold the magnificence of your presence. And now that we are in it, we are overwhelmed. Now we wish to bring you before those you have elected for salvation." He deepened his bow until his head touched the floor. "On behalf of our Covenant, our species and myself, I petition you, oracle, to grant us your grace and permission to bring you to your servants, our prophets. We seek your counsel. In these days of reclamation, we ask that you be our guide. Please grant us your light, that with it our feet may not stumble but find the path."

He waited for an answer.

None came.

None was needed.

His excitement slowly removed the mask of humility from his face and replaced it with a self-satisfied smirk. He arose to his feet as did the Bearers behind him.

"The invocation is complete. Now we will have our prayers answered." He gestured to the four Huragok who's purple, bioluminescent sacs made them visible in the air behind him. They floated down, descending upon the oracle like visages of heavenly servants. Two attended to the lower base of the upholstery on which the oracle was set. Two more attended to the upper areas. Their tentacles made contact, their millions of fine cilia forging an equal number of electrochemical connections with the ancient systems.

Tartarus made sure to keep an eye on them while they completed their work, more so on the oracle. He remembered part of the conversation about this holiest of assignments that the Prophet of Truth warned him about in their private meeting. The Hierarch had remarked in passing, although Tartarus felt that it was indeed a subtle warning, that the new oracle might show "unusual behavior" if provoked to consciousness. Then, in a far more direct manner than Tartarus was used to, Truth had told him; "Do not disturb the oracle's sleep under any circumstance, but bring him here to us." The Prophet's more direct tone carried in it an unspoken threat, one that Tartarus was not eager to learn its true meaning. So he watched and waited.

The Huragok moved with deft expertise. As their tentacles slithered about, images of glyphs would momentarily flicker into being on the device's surface, revealing the shape of the oracle's mounting. Several of these flickers later, a number of glyphs were simultaneously illuminated across the exterior of what was clearly an ornate dais. They stayed active as a mechanical phenomenon unfolded. The dais began to move about, disconnect and pry apart, its components shifting outward like a blooming flower. There were several succinct clangs from behind their charge. Then the lights on the dais faded.

The Huragok turned towards him, signing with their tentacles that the oracle was successfully disengaged. Tartarus used their bio-luminescence to point to four of his Bearers then to the oracle. The chosen four surrounded it and carefully reached in behind it, taking hold of its form. The Huragok hovered close by, watching with keen interest as they pried the oracle away from the dais and carried it between themselves. Even for four Jirilhanae, the task of carrying the divine vessel looked challenging. The Bearers had to bend their knees or lift with their backs. For Tartarus, it made him consider that the humans probably could not have carried out the oracle even if they wanted to.

He turned back towards the doors and started walking. The procession followed him. The Huragok stayed overhead, naturally lighting their way. He was amazed to see that they were actually on a large bridge. He glimpsed the darkness below and felt comfortable walking closer to the middle.

The Bearers carrying the oracle remained right behind him, grunting and huffing from the effort.

"Don't drop it." Tartarus growled. "If it falls, so will you."

After his warning, the four handlers carried the oracle with a pronounced discipline.

Tartarus switched on his comm-unit. "Shipmaster, we have the oracle and are headed to our transports. Have you finished your preparations?"

"They are complete." The shipmaster replied. "I am gathering all ground forces now. I'll inform our escorts that we have what we need."

"And tell them swiftly that the 'Bearers' are the ones who are carrying it."

The shipmaster paused, palpably irate. Still, he dared not reveal too much of it in his tone, not to those who would soon be given the applause of the holy ones. "May the prophets be praised, for our path is blessed."

It was indirect, noting the prophets for praise rather than the Jirilhanae. Even if done in spite, Tartarus could not bring himself to see it as an insult.

They reached the doors. The light of the outside world reclaimed him from the darkness along with his Bearers and, for the first time in ages uncounted, the oracle of the Gods.

"Yes, the prophets be praised." He echoed, switching off his comm-unit. His grin returned. "For my path is blessed."

:********:

The corvette had landed on top of the preserve. Through his scope, Deaks saw exactly why.

Throughout the preserve, Covenant forces were streaming past the greenhouses and down the streets towards the eastern end where the ship had settled down. It had crushed about a quarter of the buildings in the process, creating a landing zone sizable enough for those on the ground to reach it. And they were in a hurry.

Scores of Grunts, Jackals, Elites and even most of the Brutes were making their way towards the portside hanger. Its energy shielding was deactivated and ramps were extended down from the lower hull to expedite the boarding process. Even while it was obvious that the majority of Covenant forces were retreating, what was far less obvious was the reason why, and even less so why not all of them were doing so.

Panning back to the northwestern sector, Deaks spotted the two squads of Brutes from before. They were still standing before the alleyway between one of the concrete buildings and a nearby greenhouse. It was clear they were still arguing, though at this point he could detect that the focus of the arguments had shifted. They were no longer gesturing towards the seemingly unconscious woman in their charge. Instead, their attention was oriented towards the western tree-line. Increasingly, the Brutes were peering around the perimeter, sniffing the air, bearing their weapons or engaging in shouting matches with each other. At the heart of the debate lay the golden-armored second in command, jabbing an accusatory finger at its chieftain then pointing a suggestive one at the trees. Despite the chieftain's unwillingness to concede, the second-in-command kept arguing, more so, Deaks thought, to convince those around it rather than their leader.

Deaks came to realize that what he was witnessing was a power struggle. Two dominant alphas were trying to establish their authority over the other. One was stopping the other from doing it directly, so the other was trying to convince the rest of its pack to follow it indirectly. That way, it too could become chieftain by proxy of numbers rather than through a direct, and probably bloody challenge. What was a chieftain without its pack? That was likely the line of reasoning the Golden Brute was relying on. So far, it appeared to be working.

However, that did not explain why they were staying put when everyone else was leaving. Was the chieftain merely inept or had the bone of contention grown so poignant that their chain of command was too paralyzed to act? The last one seemed most plausible.

He was certain their commander or maybe their shipmaster had ordered all groundside forces to withdraw. That much was clear to see. It made sense that they would be leaving now after the two Phantoms had gone underground, either having collected their objective or reported their failure to acquire it. That is, of course, after the extraction team let them go without any trouble.

Arguably, the only reason the Brutes were still alive was because the recovery team had saved their lives. And they had done so by saving their own.

Minutes ago, the 2nd Lieutenant received a direct communique from the team. The Staff informed them that they had 'found' an escape route and were, by his estimations, headed west. Precisely what he meant by 'found', the Staff refrained from explaining, only telling that he would have to include it in their post-mission report to 7th Battalion's top brass. The Staff left him with a final ominous detail, mentioning that ONI would be putting them all under a serious gag order once this mission was over.

Although Deaks was not too comfortable about that last part, he was relieved to know they were mostly okay despite a handful of casualties from Lima and Kilo. ONI gag order or not, either way it was now time to leave.

Baelson called for the extraction team to prepare to move out. Out the corner of his eye, Deaks could see through the shrubs to the staggered lineup posted throughout the bushes of the western ridge. The troopers of squad King were repacking their gear and equipment with deliberate slowness. That way they would avoid attracting more attention than they were already getting.

Deaks was the sole outlier. He didn't make any moves to do the same. Not yet.

He looked over at Zack who was crouched down just behind him. Epsilon's radioman had laid his rocket launcher in the dirt so that he could reach for his back. Undoing a few straps, he freed himself of his radio equipment. He gently rested the gear on the ground, although its removal did little to change his rigid posture. His shoulders were still tense. They carried a new weight on them; a heightened chance that he might be about to die, a risk that he had willingly agreed to.

Deaks would make sure it never came to that. But even his own promises to himself and Zack were only as good as their best performance. They would need to pull this off without a hitch, if they were allowed to at least.

Deaks was trying to organize his ideas for when he ultimately had to explain them to his superior, but the devil himself caught him in the middle of his brainstorming.

"Ep-3, Ep-7, what are you two waiting for?" Baelson asked

They met his gaze as he quietly slid in behind them.

Zack tried to talk up an explanation that quickly turned into a nervous mumble.

"We have a plan, sir." Deaks said. Staying crouched behind his rifle, he pointed along its lengthy barrel and down to the band of Brutes. "I've figured out a way to get at the hostage."

Baelson paused. "A rescue attempt?"

"Yessir."

Baelson grew noticeably stiff, looking away to the not-so-distant corvette and its three portside plasma cannons. The shipboard weapons of mass destruction, ones meant for tearing apart UNSC frigates with 60 centimeters of titanium-A battle plating, were pointing in their direction. All they had for cover was a camouflage of underbrush. It was too thick to see through but too shallow to offer any kind of meaningful protection. Deaks could see the point Baelson was trying to make. "Look closer, sir. The guns are offline. Looks like they're directing the plasma to their drives instead."

Zack nodded. "Yeah, th-, they're getting ready to leave, so...we should be good."

Baelson pulled out his integrated binoculars and zoomed in. Sure enough, the corvette's plasma lines, specifically those around the cannons were empty. The lines most aglow were concentrated near the stern where its repulsor drives were beginning to warm-up again.

He sighted down to the Brutes in the northwestern corner.

"What about them? They don't look ready to leave." He lowered his binoculars. "Listen, guys, I know what you're going for, but that's a high price."

"We're willing to pay it." Deaks said.

"And high stakes."

"Not too high for us, sir."

Baelson cocked his head in visible confusion. "Trooper, you're facing down an entire pack. Chances are that they know we're here now and are only debating over whether to come at us or not. We're leaving."

"Without the hostage?" Deaks asked, refusing to back down. "I can't do that, sir."

"There's nothing that can be done for her that won't potentially sacrifice the entire extraction team. We still don't have a clue exactly where the recovery team is either. Any step we take in that direction risks having us compromised and this mission jeopardized. Do you understand what that means, trooper?"

The two stared each other down. Then Deaks returned to his scope, once more centering his sights on the woman in the alley. "I know what I'm asking for, sir." He peered over his shoulder at the lieutenant. "Which is why I'm asking it."

"And what're you asking for, corporal?"

"That you leave me and Ep-7 here behind. We'll let you get as much ground between you and the preserve as possible-"

"Ep-3, you can't-"

"Sir, I can." Deaks gestured up to Zack. "We can."

Zack nodded more confidently. "We can do it, sir. We'll give you guys the time you need. The Phantoms are gone. There are no Banshees or other pursuit craft in the air either. Plus, that corvette's grounded, its guns are offline and most of the enemy is retreating into it."

"It's only sixteen Brutes, sir." Deaks added. "We can manage."

Baelson stopped to marvel at the sniper. "Only...sixteen Brutes?"

"Yessir."

"...And you don't see that as a problem?"

"Not one we can't handle."

Baelson stopped to stare between the two of them. At length, he placed his binoculars back into his utility belt. "You know, I almost forgot. I was trying to figure out why you two are so insane. Then I remembered you're Epsilon." He let out a long, regretful but understanding sigh. "Five minutes. Give us that much and we should have enough of a running start."

"Agreed." Deaks said.

"Agreed." Zack echoed. He picked up his radio and held it out. "Also, sir, can you give this to King-5 to carry back please? It'll be too heavy for me. I'll need to be light on my feet."

"No need." Baelson said as he took the equipment and began strapping it onto his own back. "I'll carry it." Fastening the last restraints securely through his armor, he rounded on the duo. "You two focus on what you have to do. You've got something more important to carry out of here, you copy?"

The two of them nodded.

"Make sure you get right on our tails as soon as you can. Once those Pelicans take off, they're off."

"Copy." They replied.

Squad King's lineup began to withdraw from their positions. They commenced their westward retreat into the forest. The rest of the extraction team did the same unseen on the northern and southern ridges.

Baelson turned to join them.

"Good luck, sir." Deaks said.

Zack picked up his launcher with one hand and gave him the thumbs up with the other. "Yeah, good luck, LT."

Baelson stopped. He turned back to them one last time and gave a subtle dip of his head. "Good luck to you too, troopers."

Then he was off.

Deaks and Zack watched as Squad King ambled stealthily through the forest, heading down the gradually curving slope of the western ridge. Soon, they would be running to LZ Alpha.

Deaks hoped he and Zack would be doing the same and soon. He pointed two-fingers at the radio-less radioman, then down to a particularly thick area of underbrush on the slope leading down to the preserve. Zack flashed his acknowledgement light. He kept his head low and started maneuvering one foot after another through the mishmash of shrubbery, creeping down towards the perimeter.

All the while, Deaks settled his oracle scope on the Brutes, picking his targets in the alleyway. His reticle settled on the temple of one of the pair guarding the woman, the one on her left side. From there, it would be a quick switch over to its partner standing on her right.

This would have to be quick and smooth, though he doubted very much that it would be the latter. It was almost never smooth when it came to Brutes. But the memory was now fresh in his mind. He could vividly recall that firefight in Sycion, failing to help save a squad from annihilation and leaving a company commander to a fate worse than death. Carefully hooking his forefinger through the trigger guard, he was determined not to lose another one.

:********:

Archoneus stood firm. Every fiber of his being wanted to lash out and strike down the foolish captain major. The last dregs of his self-control held him in place as he reiterated his point.

"You heard the commander's order just as well as I did. It is time to leave." He pointed around. "See? No other pack is debating over this. They are all gone."

"That is because none of them are in our position." Karagim asserted with greater adamance. "They cannot smell what I smell because they are not here." He pointed back to the western ridge. "That does not mean the humans are not there! You can smell them yourself!"

Archoneus could in fact smell them. The shift in the winds allowed his nostrils to pick up on their scent. The only problem was that he could care less.

"Our mission is complete. The oracle has been recovered. Why waste time and energy on a few pests?"

"Pests that are close enough to intervene." Karagim pressed. "Don't you see, they are so close that they might be able to spot the oracle when it is taken into the ship. They may see what it is we are after and inform their fleet."

"Their fleet is more likely to intervene if we do not leave at this very moment. We have our orders. You would be wise to follow them."

"Would I?" Karagim hissed, flashing his fangs. "Chieftain, if that is what you are, understand this. Which will you disobey, a mortal's command or the wishes of the Gods that we should recover their oracle safely? Let us hunt the humans and kill them. We must leave no witnesses or we risk ALL we have gained here today. For once, Archoneus, listen to reason."

"Reason? If you listened to reason, we would be onboard already. No, you listen, you who have forgotten your place." Archoneus pointed back to the human female behind him. "That is to be our prisoner. It will come with us for questioning. We will learn how the humans found this place, if they have discovered luminaries of their own to use. Such a possibility could turn this war on its head. Therefore, on my word as chieftain, this one shall live."

Karagim shook his head. "You speak of reason and yet here you are again spouting your nonsense. The Gods would never yield such a blessing to those consigned to damnation." He too gestured to the female. "We must kill it. It has seen too much. It might even know of the oracle." Karagim started towards it. "If it is somehow recaptured by the other humans-"

Archoneus' hand shot to the captain major's chest plate and pushed him back. "My word as your chieftain will stand." He nodded to one of his two warriors standing guard in the alleyway. "Secure the prisoner."

As the warrior moved to pick up the female, Karagim suddenly rushed forward with renewed fury, coming on so fast that Archoneus barely caught him in time. Karagim pointed past him to the warrior. "Touch my prize and I will kill you myself."

The warrior hesitated.

Archoneus strained against Karagim and he against him, both pushing without allowing any hint of the strain to show. With a weighted push, Archoneus ultimately forced him back a step.

"We are leaving. I will not say it again."

"We are not going anywhere."

Archoneus felt the eyes of the rest of his pack. They were all watching, emitting more pheromones of caution along with a readiness to take action, though what kind and in obedience to whom, he could not discern. However, he could definitively sense the lustful hunger oozing from the Jirilhanae in front of him.

"Your belly leads you astray, Karagim."

"No, you have led me astray." Karagim rebutted. He turned around to face the others. "He has led us all astray. How many cycles has it been, brothers, since we have received proper leadership from the likes of this mongrel? How much longer will you tolerate him? You have heard my logic, you have seen my reasoning and you know my wishes; to see the holy ones exalted. Yet this babbling fool is an idol unto himself. A God unto himself. And now I ask you, will you bow down and worship this false God, or will you remain faithful to the Gods of our fathers?" He stopped to let his words settle, meeting the gazes of his pack. "Those of you who still count yourself among the faithful, follow me. Those of you who still count this liar as your chieftain, well, I pray you will find mercy in the thousands of hells that will await you. Do not hold your peace. Speak now and let it be settled."

The proclamation was met with abject silence. Though there were a few half-steps towards the speaker, a few half-hearted looks of approval, that was it. The air of hesitance was too strong to be broken.

Archoneus could see right through him. He was making another play for power. "They give no answer."

Standing in the middle of everything, Karagim's head lowered. A hand snaked towards his grenade launcher. "Then I will answer for them."

Archoneus' eyes narrowed as his own grasp tightened on the gravity hammer at his back. "Think well before you act. Our battle is fated for after the mission, not during. If you move against me now, you will be in disobedience to the commander even more than you already are. And wasn't it you who said you could not allow the oracle's recovery to be compromised?"

"I will not take orders from a foolish mortal that fancies himself a God."

Archoneus' frown deepened. He fully whipped out his hammer and held its staff at the ready. "Then come, and I will show you that there are no Gods among us."

Karagim's hand fully grasped his grenade launcher. He grinned victoriously. "Spoken like a true heretic."

Archoneus heard the sound before Karagim could turn to face him, the noise of two loud THUMPs that came one after the other. As the captain major was in mid-turn, Archoneus heard a whispering noise, one that started small then grew fast into the roar of storm winds, too fast for him or anyone else to realize their mistake. A fatal mistake.

WHAM!

His senses were drowned out in a burst of light, heat and thunder.

WHAM!

An explosion went off nearby, the force of which picked him up and tossed him aside. He landed hard and tumbled across grass, concrete and grass again. He slid to a stop on his belly. He cracked his eyes open. Stars shone in his vision against a backdrop of grass and the lightning shimmers of his flaring energy shields. He struggled to suck in a breath, the air having been cleanly knocked out of his lungs. He inhaled smoke and exhaust. Looking around brought even more agony as he forced himself up onto his hands and knees.

The lawn on which he lay was quickly catching fire, as was the smoking figures of the other Jirilhanae. The pack, his pack, lay scattered across the grass, doing their best to scramble, limp and crawl away from two steaming craters. Not everyone moved. He saw four that lay motionless on their stomachs and backs. Their armor was broken and smoldering, their limbs missing as their faces were contorted in confused, enraged but otherwise silent screams.

CRACK! CRACK!

Two shots from a powerful human rifle lightninged from the western tree line. He heard a bellow and a groan come from the alleyway.

Still disoriented, he saw the moment that a figure came rushing out from the distant bushes. By the black armor and the size, his haggard mind could at least tell that it was a human shock trooper. It ran with all its might, pumping its legs in a dead run across the grass, headed for the alley. Archoneus struggled to get on his feet. The strength refused to return to his limbs and he fell back down.

PING.

He caught a small glimpse of the shock trooper as it tossed two metal cylinders ahead of itself. He didn't have time to close his eyes before the grenades hit the ground, bounced into the midst of the pack and detonated.

The resulting flash stung his eyes and he joined a few others in a pained howl. His world was reduced to white blurs, then slowly resolved into hazy afterimages that melded into each other. He rubbed his pupils with his freehand while still grasping around, searching for his hammer, praying to the Gods that they would at least allow him to die on his feet.

By the time his sight returned, he heard a general uproar from his pack.

He looked and now saw the human shock trooper sprinting away from the alley...with the prisoner held in its arms, grasping tightly to its chest plate. They were headed for the forest.

Along their path, another of his warriors moved to intercept them and leveled his spike rifle.

CRACK!

A sniper round struck him in the back of the helmet, blowing bits of brain matter and armor through his forehead as the force twirled him about and tossed him onto his back.

Archoneus followed the round's path to a distant point in the tree-line around the top of the ridge.

Another of his warriors came racing behind the humans. His upper armor broken off, he was armed with nothing but his bare claws and ferocity. A muzzle flash went off in the same spot on the ridge as the warrior flipped backwards from the round that flashed through his head. He tumbled aside as blood flooded out from a cratered eye socket.

The humans slipped into the underbrush and disappeared.

Anger flushed through Archoneus' entire being. He willed himself up to his knees.

A shadow passed over him. He looked and saw Karagim rushing past, grenade launcher in hand, though not aimed at his chieftain. The captain major was growling and howling with the two warriors that ran after him. They bolted across the lawn towards where the humans had escaped...without his orders to do so.

Wrapped up within the coils of an even greater rage, insult having been heaped upon insult, Archoneus searched for a weapon. Any weapon. Then his eyes found his hammer lying ownerless on a sidewalk near the entrance of the alley. Not feeling the strength that he needed to walk, he instead forced himself back down and crawled towards it, swearing bloody vengeance upon the humans and Karagim.

:********:

Deaks saw the three Brutes rushing towards the tree-line. He was too busy discharging an empty magazine and sliding in a fresh one to stop them, much to his chagrin. However, seeing so many dead Brutes scattered across the lawn, including the four he'd shot, was encouraging. His one regret was that he couldn't have his way with them. Not now. Now was the worse time for it, even when the opportunity had never been so great.

He stifled the feeling, watching relieved as Zack burst through the bushes to his right. He nodded down to the woman. "Got her!"

"She's still breathing!?"

"Yeah!"

"Good!" Deaks shouldered his rifle and slapped the bipod back against the barrel. He got up, sliding the magazine's first round into the chamber. "I got your back! Let's go!"

Zack pivoted and dashed down towards a path leading to the base of the ridge, the woman cradled in his arms. Deaks followed close behind, his rifle cradled in his.

They had gotten what they came for.

Now it was time to run like hell.

Liberandum - Rescue