Chapter 14 – Amica
June 16th, 2545 (02:01 Hours - Military Calendar)
Hicetas System, Kholo
Aboard Corvette-class prowler UNSC Cape Horn
:********:
Colonel Garrison stroked a contemplative thumb across his new beard as he pinched his chin. He examined the tactical planner before him with marked curiosity and worry. Curiosity by virtue of the newest details being unveiled in White's latest mission brief. Worry due to the nature of those 'newest' details that no one had seen coming.
Captain Udaijah, the man at the helm of the prowler UNSC Cape Horn, had allowed the three leaders of the groundside operation to setup a quick meeting on his bridge. While he remained at his central seat and his bridge officers at their surrounding stations, the meeting's members had assembled at the rear. A few steps behind the captain's personal station was the bridge's tactical planner that, were it not for the holographic image projections, would have made any unfamiliar person mistake it for a pool table.
Garrison stood on the left side dressed in his casual trooper shirt and dark camo pants, arms crossed over the words 'ODST' and brows furrowed. Commander White stood at the head of the table. On the right side stood the 10th Shock Troops Battalion's commander, Colonel Hayes.
Hayes was a man who, for as long as Garrison had known him, always somehow managed to appear interested in, understanding of and confused by everything he ever looked at. It was all in the eyes, those hay-colored pupils that narrowed and squinted every so often, only to open up at the behest of some unstated revelation. He was a dirty blonde through and through with his stubbly beard and side-parted hair being cosigned by the same pigmentation. That wasn't to say there weren't some grays here and there.
Garrison could still recall the day that Taylors, Hayes and himself had graduated together from the Special Warfare Center in United Korea as part of Class 179. Things were simpler then when the main concerns were home-grown terrorists and wannabe revolutionaries in humanity's backyard, not planetary destruction and a growing likelihood of extinction now knocking on its front door. Hayes had personally saved his life during the Battle of New Constantinople back in '37, and his and Taylors' twice again some 5 years later on Alluvion. The two of them were among only several from his original class that he knew were still alive and active, and though it had been a few years since he'd last worked with him, here he was a welcomed addition.
Though his body had aged, his spirit did not. He hadn't lost that young spark. It was the kind Garrison had long ago misplaced since the events of his drop on the first colony world that the Covenant had ever found. That kind of consistency over the years wasn't possible without some serious effort. Hayes' gray hairs were evident yet he still, by demeanor alone, could be mistaken for 30 years old, 23 years younger than he actually was. The slight bags under his eyes indicated that he laughed a lot even when the wrinkles of time had naturally set in. That was probably how he did it, learning how to laugh in the face of the ludicrous. And this was the ludicrous.
The three of them eyed the basketball-sized projection of Kholo. Behind it, past the bridge's forward screens, was the dust-bowl of a planet itself hovering like a Christmas ornament amongst the stars. However, the real-deal was simply too large and filled up too much of their view to make the necessary observations. The holograph would have to do. That was why they were able to see the amalgamation of spikes and random ship parts hanging over its midwestern atmosphere. In fact, they wouldn't have known that it was a Jackal ship unless White had made that part clear on the way here.
It was just sitting there, floating in space.
"Well, that's an eye-sore." Hayes said, smirking disappointedly at the sight of it. "Man, you'd think that if the Covenant can afford to burn planets for 20 odd years straight that they'd be able to pay their workers enough for decent ships. But that thing? I almost feel insulted by it, like we're just that cheap."
"Or maybe the prophets are just that stingy." Garrison said. "The Covies had you thinkin' about switching jobs, Hayes?"
"To be honest, no. Not anymore. The UNSC pay scale is a little wonky but at least we get good ships, unlike whatever the hell that's supposed to be."
"A Jackal ship." White reaffirmed. "It hopped into the system three days ago. Our satellite didn't detect it until late yesterday. Our analysts have guessed that it may have had its profile mistaken for an asteroid exiting slipspace."
"I can see that." Hayes scratched confusedly at his beard. "I still don't get how those things find their way in there."
"Well, they do. In this case, this ship certainly did, so it's clear that its capable of intersystem travel. What isn't clear is why we weren't able to detect it sooner. Udaijah thinks it hid on the edge of the system doing some slow reconnaissance before moving into a range where we could see it better. I'm thinking it might have stealth properties. Now as to why it's here," He looked around. "Well, that's in debate."
Hayes shrugged. "Scavenging maybe?"
"Are you sure they're on their own?" Garrison asked. "As in, they're not part of some larger operation?"
"We're certain." White replied. "The Office has made regular observational studies as to the Jackals' behavioral patterns. They tend to be a bit more 'individualistic' from the rest of the Covenant hegemony, more pirates than warriors. Whenever they get the chance, they move on their own to scavenge wherever they can. In those situations, they tend to use their own ships, possibly because the Covenant don't trust them enough to give them command of theirs. Right now, they're stepping on our toes and they don't even know it."
They couldn't have known, Garrison realized, because even while the planet was visible, the Cape Horn's stealth coating was still in effect. It had been so the moment they entered the system earlier that morning, and would remain active until the second they dropped HEVs onto the planet's surface.
The UNSC task force, other than its composition of just under 400 ODSTs, was comprised of a quartet of prowlers. The other three were the Corvette-class UNSC Gladston, UNSC Santiago and the Sahara-class Heavy Prowler UNSC Aladdin. The moment they exited slipspace the navy force had split into two groups. The Cape Horn and Gladston went to pre-mission positions above Kholo's south pole. Meanwhile, the Santiago and Rear Admiral Rich's personal ship, the Aladdin, went into a holding pattern above the north pole of the gas giant Hicetas II. While Commander White's group handled the ground invasion on Kholo, the Rear Admiral's group would stay above Hicetas II as lookouts. Theirs was arguably the more consequential position despite how actionless it might prove to be. They'd chosen the gas giant on purpose. Its strong gravity well incidentally caused most of the slipspace transit points into the system to be attracted to and to curve around its atmosphere, much like a ball of yarn. If any Covenant patrol ship came into the system it would likely be at an exit route around the giant. That gave the Santiago and Aladdin the opportunity for an ambush of archer missiles and SHIVA nukes that could silence a CCS before it called for reinforcements. The setup was better explained by a mom and dad waiting at the bottom of the slide to grab their kid as he came down, only with nuclear minefields and fissile explosives rather than loving hands ready to catch them.
"What does the Rear Admiral think we should do?" Garrison asked, understanding that this was technically more Rich's purview than the men going groundside.
"He believes in one of two possibilities. The first is that they followed one of the ships from Hayth from a less secure system to here using their slipspace wake. We both have our doubts about that given how these people had to have maintained tight slipstream routines in order to avoid discovery for so long."
"Second possibility?" Hayes asked.
"They led the Covenant here on purpose and, at the same time, unintentionally."
Hayes looked even more confused than usual.
"Right, I'll explain. I can't reveal too much, its highly classified information, but the Insurrectionists are known for a history of short-lived alliances with the Covenant, namely the Jackals."
Now Garrison and Hayes were both confused and it showed. Hayes blinked a few times in amazement. "They had alliances with the Covenant?"
"'Short-lived' alliances, ones that usually ended in betrayal by the Jackals. The chances that Kirkley made the same mistake are low, but the chances that someone else made them..."
Garrison nodded. "So, it's someone else. But who?"
"A close ally that we haven't tracked yet maybe. Whatever the situation, it seems that the Jackals got here potentially by using tracking devices. Perhaps they came to scavenge. They often do that right after a planet is glassed in order to sniff around for surviving goodies and trinkets that catch their interest."
"Buzzards." Hayes said.
"Nevertheless, the probability that they would come here at the same time we did, just to look for random black-market opportunities, is next to zero."
"They're going to raid Hayth before anyone else can get the treasure. Blackbeard would've been proud to have known he had next of kin in space."
Garrison agreed. "Birds of a feather I'd say. Have they made any moves?"
White nodded. "They've dispatched a force to the surface a few kilometers northeast of Hayth. Satellite thermal imagery shows close to 500 of them are slowly advancing towards the town as we speak."
Both colonels winced at the news. Garrison cleared his throat. "Those numbers will easily be enough to overrun the town. What's stopping them from sieging the place now?"
White calmly held out a hand towards the projection and forced his fingers outward to zoom in on a particular part of the surface. It was a part dominated by a massive weather disturbance that looked like a spiraling cloud. "That's what's stopping them. It's a dust storm. We observed a change in the weather patterns of the planet three days ago. A sudden but radical shift in the polar westerlies and the equatorial easterlies led to a bit of a clash between the two major air currents."
"A bit?" Hayes asked.
"Its massive. The currents split it up further into two weather systems. The smaller one is passing over the town now."
"And this one?"
"That's the smaller one." White pinched his thumb and forefinger to twist the planet westward, revealing a storm three times the size of the first coming in over the east. The rest is currently on its way to Hayth. It'll reach there around 1020 Hours today."
Garrison and Hayes quietly considered the new realties for a moment. "So, what does that mean for the mission?" The former asked. "Operational changes?"
"A few." White said. "First, Starship Row is now in play. With the storm no longer coming from the west as we anticipated, there's going to be a slot of time where they'll be able to access their air power. That ups the ante on it as a priority."
He zoomed in to a level of resolution that made the overlapping, gridded and slanting patches of ruined civilization more visible. Pointing his fingers, he highlighted three separate locations in green that the two colonels already recognized. He zoomed closer to the location in the far west. Starship Row was shown as two aisles each of a half-dozen star freighters of different shapes and sizes. They were all positioned east of several make-shift hangers and just a short walk to the south of a flight control tower. Two yellow bars manifested. One was coming at the flight tower from a northerly angle. The other was taking up a slanted position on a series of small hills just a few dozen meters west of the ships.
"Garrison, we'll need your 2nd and 3rd Platoons to land simultaneously with the rest of the ground forces rather than right after the storm. 2nd Platoon's commencement of the assault will still begin with the control tower and 3rd Platoon's rocket teams will likewise move in from the west at roughly the same time. However, we can't launch a general strike. They'll need to prioritize any craft that possess high-caliber weaponry or fissile material that could be used against us. That, and anything that manages to get off the ground. They'll have to work smart and fast. Once they've cleared out those hangers, have their teams search those ships. We need anything they can find; cargo, shipping manifests, onboard black boxes, star charts, nav data, everything."
"Understood, sir." Garrison said, inwardly bothered by the change. Much of this was last minute and it would be a real task trying to brief the men beforehand.
White pulled the projection over to a detailed image of the town. Now it was surrounded by eight yellow bars just outside of its four gates with two for each gate. "Just to make sure we're straight on everything, Garrison, your 4th and 5th Platoons will still be assaulting the southern gate. Same goes for your 6th and 7th Platoons going to the east gate. Hayes, your 1st and 2nd are still taking the west gate with the 3rd and 4th taking down the north. Pre-assigned objectives for each unit apply; ammunition dumps, armories, you name it. However, keep in mind that the auditorium, the Bastille Building and the Hill can become successive holdouts for the AMADDS if we don't act quickly. Once preliminary objectives are in place, we'll need those platoons assigned to it to converge on the Bastille. If Kirkley's there, we can't so much as risk giving him any opportunity to escape."
"So business as usual then?" Hayes asked.
"Not quite."
White pointed to and correspondingly made an intimidating patch of red appear on Hayth's eastern perimeter. "Chances are high that that force of Jackals will reach at the same time as or right after we take Hayth. We'll have to essentially seize the entire location beforehand and use the walls as part of our defense."
"...Yeah, saw that coming. Respectfully, sir, do we actually need to defend that place? Why not let the Jackals do the work for us? You said your informant has an emergency local planned in case his original position for extraction is compromised. If we get him out of there, we won't risk losing anyone and get a win out of it in the proce-"
"You know we can't do that, Hayes." Garrison intruded in a voice bordering on reproving. "There are civilians down there that we'll have to defend and then move off-world."
"Why move them?"
Garrison and White both turned to give him their full attention. He pointed at Hayth. "In all seriousness, we don't need to take any of these people. We know for a fact that almost everyone here is Insurrectionist affiliated. They chose to be here. And we know that they chose to be here because they don't like us. Honestly, the chances are pretty high that they'll take up arms against us and add to the AMADDS' overall numbers, and there's 5,000 of them down there in all. Plus, now we've got practically half a battalion's worth of Jackals involved. Imagine us getting sandwiched between Hayth's walls, walls being defended by every mercenary and their grandmother mind you, and a brood of greedy Jackals that'll think we're trying to call dibs on the place first. I can't see any way we get out of this without either some serious casualties or dropping nukes to clear house. And nukes obviously aren't an option, but letting them have at each other is."
"So you want to play them off each other then move in on the scraps?" White asked as more statement than question.
"Exactly. If the Jackals start winning, we intervene before they win so much that they become a problem for us later. The same applies vice versa. That way we get to decide the winner with barely any of our own skin in the game."
"You're forgetting something, buddy." Garrison said.
Hayes squinted at him. "Really, and what's that?"
"When's the storm passing over Hayth right now supposed to end, commander?"
"At 0924 Hours today."
"And it's been hovering over it for how long already?"
"Today makes 3 days."
Garrison nodded. "Right. How long is this next storm suspected to last as it passes over?"
"A little over a week."
Hayes looked away, starting to get the point. Garrison chose to hammer it in. "Right. I doubt that'll stop the Jackals from trying for it regardless. And how long will our operational window be to engage them between storms?"
"Since the next one will be in by 1020 Hours, that gives us under an hour and possibly less before the Jackals arrive. They're the real wild cards here."
"Right. Our operational window will be limited." Garrison turned to Hayes. "So we can't just wait things out. We wouldn't have a good idea of the situation down there for a whole week except through the eyes of our informant, if he even stays there and doesn't go to his secondary rendezvous point. The next thing we know, the AMADDS have won and resolidified their defenses against any further attacks, meaning they'd probably rely heavily on a civilian militia like you said. That'd make it a whole lot harder to dislodge them. Or worse yet, the Jackals win and would have killed everyone before we got down there, men, women and children."
Silence pervaded the conversation for a full three seconds, during which Hayes looked to be wrestling with the facts being presented. He took in a deep breath. "I've lost an entire company already." He said, closing his eyes at a painful memory and breathing out slowly. "I just don't like the idea of me putting the lives of my ODSTs on the line for people who'd probably shoot them in the back the first chance they got. That's all. I know they have kids down there, but these are my boys and girls that we're talking about as well."
White didn't say anything. In that moment, Garrison noticed how he was watching Hayes, like someone who was trying to keep a mask on, like he knew that some part of what Hayes had said wasn't completely accurate. He made a mental note of it.
"And they're both human." Garrison added.
"I wasn't saying they're not. What I am saying is that there's no precedent for the UNSC fighting 'for' Insurrectionists."
"There's precedent."
The two colonels turned to White.
"Really?" Hayes asked sarcastically. "And who's the guy that set such a high bar for us?"
"A Navy liaison officer that was way over his head and too far under his heart."
"You know, I was thinking more along the lines of a UNSC service vitae than a haiku but I think I still get your point."
"We're saving them, colonel. That's our duty here today. There's no getting around it."
"...Let's just hope they see things the same way then. So what about Land Control?"
The topic now changed; White was free to rotate Kholo over to the aforementioned location. It was a building in the middle of a flat plain east of Hayth. It was shaped vaguely like a winged bat with the wings outstretched around a circular body. The immediate grounds were covered in gridded rows which rippled out across the surface in a radial pattern. Three yellow bars appeared that descended on the building from the north, south and northeast, the last one noticeably smaller than the others.
"Hayes, your 5th and 6th Platoons are moving in as planned with Garrison's Squad Epsilon. However, there will be a change. Because the next storm as well as the Jackals will reach this location before they reach Hayth, our best bet is to deploy them a few minutes ahead of the rest of Alpha and Bravo. If they time their attack right, it will warrant Kirkley sending a response team. Epsilon, as the carrier team, will plug Mr. Green into the system just before Alpha and Bravo Companies land. He'll overthrow Athena, override Hayth's perimeter gates and leave the city wide open for us to invade, all while we secure Schonberg and his equipment. By then, the AMADDS' response team arriving on the scene will run into the Jackals and hopefully provide us a good deal of unintentional support."
"Inadvertent reinforcements." Garrison thought aloud. "I like how your mind works."
"Yes, well, thank you. We can still play them off each other in this case like you asked, Hayes. However, the probabilities are high that the bulk of the Jackals will run into that location. If they stay the way they are, all bunched up and travelling together, then the ODSTs at Land Control will be facing the brunt of their forces. For that kind of situation, I'm warranting that several radiomen be utilized as air combat controllers."
Hayes cocked his head, flashing that accustomed look of confusion. "But won't that risk damaging the Pele-5 equipment? I thought you wanted that stuff intact."
"Along with the doctor, yes, but we may not be able to have our cake and eat it too. Given those numbers, we may have to destroy some of the technology. There's no way around that either. We'll just have to make do with what we have left when the smoke settles."
He held out his hand and closed his fingers together, closing out the projection. "That's all the updates I have. In your own views, are we good to go through with the operation, gentlemen?"
Garrison nodded. "Looks like we're good to go."
Hayes shrugged. "I guess we're in it then. Hope you like wind in your hair and dust in your jammies, Gary, because I don't."
:********:
Zack scratched his head as he sat at the table, once again confused by his squadmates' explanations. "So...why are we calling it TROJAN then?
Rico, sitting at the opposite side, ran his hands through his mohawk in frustration as he explained it for the third time. "Because, Little Z, we've got a guy on the ground, probably our guy, who's pretended to be a hermano for the AMADDS when in fact he's no brother at all. He's kind of like a Trojan horse. Well, that's what I'm thinking anyway."
"You mean Duncan's a Trojan horse." Nova tersely corrected.
"Si, Dama Roja, it's our boy Irish who's the big wooden stallion."
Zack thought about it. Doing so made him feel a decent amount of jealousy. They lost track of him for one week and now Duncan had gotten a whole operation named after him. "If it is Duncan anyway."
Nova shot him a hot glare that threatened the stability of his unfortunately full bladder. "You still don't think it's him, really?"
"I mean, hey, it could be. Could doesn't mean 'is'. That's my point. You guys are making a huge assumption and taking it as fact."
Nova's glare became sharper and he felt the urgent need to run to the bathroom. He really needed to pee, and falling asleep with it hadn't helped either. In fact, it had made it several degrees worse.
Before she could speak, Renni who was sitting on his right put a hand on his shoulder. "To be fair, Zack, and this is more so for your sake, they do have a point."
By now, with the entry of Epsilon's medic and former ONI agent, everyone else at the table leaned into the conversation, everyone except the Staff whose seat was empty.
"They do?"
"They do. You see, I can't say too much but I know how operations like these work, at least whenever the Office uses HUMINT assets for field work. Often the agents aren't part of the Office necessarily. They're from other branches of the wider UNSC or even different sectors of civilian life. However, the recovery team's going to identify this informant using their service number, which means they aren't a civilian. It's someone UNSC affiliated. And even in the circumstances where it is an ONI agent, we have policies against using service numbers for identification and extraction. Doing that can risk compromising the identity of the person involved to others."
"Others being agents in the Office, right?" Zack asked. "I don't get it, it's your own guys at that point. Why would you be worried about who learns who the other guy is?"
"Because not everyone in ONI is a team player. They may not look it, but they're really an umbrella organization for different factions that function more like feudal kingdoms than a single intelligence organization. You'd see it firsthand if you worked for them."
Zack made his best attempt not to seem caught unawares by that last sentence. So did everyone else other than Mito who all had to play it off as more an offhanded comment than a reality. "Right, so that means..."
"It means the only other person it can be is someone from another branch of the UNSC. We know from the briefs that the AMADDS are interested in recruiting former armed services personnel for operational reasons. Then someone like Duncan disappears. It's likely he got roped in, maybe by a person he knew already, and the commander found a way to contract him as an agent before he took the deal."
"I just had a gut feeling about the whole thing." Hector said. "But hey, your explanation's good too."
Yuri grinned at her from the seat opposite hers. "You honestly sound more like agent than ex-agent, knowing so much about operations you say you left behind."
Renni grinned back. "Who knows, I might still be in ONI right now, spying on all of you."
"You know, in ancient Japanese culture, Oni is a type of ogre demon." Mito noted from further down.
Renni's grin widened. "Perfect."
Yuri grasped his chin as he scrutinized her. "Yeah, you're right, you do look kind of like ogre."
Renni's smile fell away. "What'd you just say?"
As Yuri was getting a laugh out of it, Nova slugged him hard in the shoulder to shut him up. "You're not the smoothest guy in the bar, are you?"
"No, but I'm bravest. Tell you what, I'll be racing all you guys when we drop. Whoever can beat me to ground gets 30 cred."
"I'd take you up on that deal," Deaks said a seat down from him as he ran a towel over Silver Buddha, "But I think I'd be too busy trying to survive the impact to do anything like that. Well, and being off to Hayth and all with a different squad. If you want, I can take it off your corpse after you hit paydirt. How's that sound?"
"Sounds sucky. You'll have to take money from me while I burn up in atmosphere."
Deaks held the butcher knife out at him. "Credit chip or hard currency?"
"Try flaming debris and screams. We'll both be pretty rich in those by that point."
"True enough."
As the conversation leveled off, everyone returned to performing maintenance on the myriad of weapons resting on their table. Assault rifles, battle rifles, DMRs, pistols and SMGs were being properly lubricated and wiped down. Bullets for each weapon type were being taken out of small ammo crates and slotted into individual magazines. These were in turn lined up around each person. Frag grenades were checked and managed for signs of possible damage or defect, then placed down beside the prepared magazines, making their setup seem more like a casino table.
Across the cafeteria of the UNSC Cape Horn close to 200 fellow ODSTs from both the 7th's Bravo Company and the 10th's Alpha Company were doing the same. Individual platoons were using the several dozen tables within the cafeteria' roomy, rectangular space to conduct their final equipment checks. It was more a means of biding their time than inspecting their gear. Since they'd left Reach and rendezvoused with the 10th Battalion, no one had found much interest in sleep. They were up at odd hours of the day, chatting and trading stories while swabbing down their rifles and running through scenarios on their unit's specific assignments. That hadn't changed even with the upcoming operation taking place in a few hours. It was technically still predawn on the planet, but to the ODSTs, the overhead lights kept them moving at a noontime speed.
Zack had actually wanted to see the 10th's legendary Bullfrogs unit, the competitors to the 22nd's' Bullfrogs. The two shared a famous rivalry over who were the real 'frogmen' of the ODSTs. The 10th's frogs specialized for elevated urban combat and mountaineering scenarios with Series 8 SOLAs. They were among the flyboys of the shock troops, the only ones that got to freely go back up into the air after being dropped down from orbit. Captain Aiken, the leader of Alpha Company's 5th Platoon that would be supporting Epsilon during the push to Land Control told him they weren't available. They were undergoing mountaineering requalification for another operation. It ran in tandem with a general decision by the UNSC to retrain and reinforce all available forces on a rotational basis, something they'd just started after Actium. The change wasn't much welcomed by those who hadn't been in Aquilla at the time, but for the folks who had been there, they knew it would be a much-needed wake-up call for everyone. Fighting a war for 20 years straight tended to make refreshers like these necessary, however much Zack wished he could see the 10th's Bullfrogs in action.
He placed his radio in his lap to run yet another maintenance check. He started with the antennae section and worked his way down to the other components on its model gray exterior. "So what're we going to do with 'Irish' when we find him then?"
"We're not the ones picking him up." Rico said as he inspected a line of half a dozen 40-millimeter grenade projectiles like an archeologist with a magnifying glass. "Singh's handling that, remember?"
"Yeah, I know. I meant what are we doing with him after Singh gets him back?"
Just then, Nova slapped a clip into her M6 with such force that it got the two's attention. "We blow off the big toe on his right foot for leaving us, then we blow off the left one as a warning not to do it again."
Zack swallowed hard. Rico held up a tentative finger. "Actually, the Staff has...something else in mind. He sees this whole thing a little differently than we do."
"In what way?" Nova asked, now glowering at him.
One of the main cafeteria entrances slid open.
"Well...why don't you ask him yourself?"
Epsilon as well as the rest of the ODSTs in the cafeteria all turned their heads to see. A dozen ODSTs walked in, all dressed in the casual black shirts and dark camo fatigues of Helljumpers. The difference was that they were the captains of the platoons going in, and they were each carrying a datapad, some scrolling through files and others looking straight ahead. There was a uniformed wariness in their expressions that made Zack worried.
He watched the captains disperse towards the tables where their platoons were and start talking to them. Among them, he saw the sharp jawed Captain Ortega coming in. He and his 2nd Platoon were the only ones from the 7th's Alpha Company that had been present at Falchion in time for the operation. However, they wouldn't be tagging along except as additional support wherever it was needed on the ground. Whatever meeting he'd just come from, it looked like he was more pleased with the final decision. The same couldn't be said of the Staff walking next to him who's stern glare said otherwise. The two talked as they walked into the cafeteria then broke off for their individual tables.
"What's the news, boss?" Deaks asked.
"It's not good. Not like we have a choice though." The Staff held up his pad between two fingers. "There's been a few changes in our plans so listen up."
The table listened in as he began explaining what the leaders had just gone off to discuss. Their eyes widened quickly at news that truly wasn't so good, mostly due to the mentions of 'Jackals' and 'Superstorms'. From what Zack got from it, they were overhauling much of the original strategy to compensate, mainly the timing. He wasn't sure how much he was going to like it, especially when told that Epsilon would be in the worst position out of anyone, all for the honor of going in first.
While the Staff was still talking, Zack noticed that Renni wasn't tuned in. She was staring off into the distance. Out the corner of his eye, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He followed her gaze to an aisle between a few tables closer to the center of the cafeteria.
Colonel Garrison and Colonel Hayes were walking through with troopers standing and saluting them as they passed. Then there was also Commander White.
He looked like he'd been walking in the wake of the other two, probably having led the newest briefing, when he'd stopped in his tracks.
White was staring right back at Renni, and she at him, although he was much more poker faced about it than she was.
After a tense moment he turned and continued on his way. Renni kept watching him until he, Garrison and Hayes had left the cafeteria through another door. When she finally noticed that Zack was watching her, the look she had vanished automatically and she focused in on the Staff as if she'd been doing so the whole time. Zack just kept his mouth shut, not giving it much of a second thought thanks to the newest mission details that required his full attention. All things considered; he was quickly warming up to his newly reinstated role as Epsilon's air combat controller. If push came to shove, he would be the one telling the flyboys where to drop their heaviest payloads.
:********:
Duncan couldn't sleep. Barely anyone could for most of the night. Even well into the early morning he found himself to be a straggler sitting in front of the living room projection screen. He was trying to understand Waypoint's evening show host Daniel Romello as he explained how the UNSC were beginning mass retraining efforts across remaining systems in response to the Covenant's 'latest actions'. Gypsy's house, as well as every house on the Hill, were quiet. Quiet at least in the face of the dust storm that had now spent the last three days whistling and moaning through Hayth.
The entire settlement was on lockdown. No one had left their homes except to brave the gales for much needed supplies. Even then, it was hard to find a store that was still open. He was pretty sure Olivia had kept hers open to help the people in her neighborhood. That was the rumor anyway. He couldn't confirm any of it since he was stuck on the Hill.
After learning of the events surrounding the recovery of the downed drone, Kirkley ordered a complete shutdown of everything. The news of the Jackal presence required that a greater number of AMADDS be stationed on the walls at all times. They were preparing for possible, if not probable retaliation.
Gypsy's response was one of silent somberness. One day after they'd buried four of their comrades and already they had three more to bury. The loss of Ambers was a hard blow to the platoon, compounding the hole punched into the leadership following Haskin's demise. Barely anyone talked about their losses as of late. Fewer still chose to think on it.
Joining him in the living room's U-shaped arrangement of chairs was O'Reilly and Quinn who were among those biding their time. Once the storm passed, the platoon was expected to be divvied up. They'd reorganize their numbers into two squads; Jinx and Jester. One would serve with the defending garrison. The other would be shipped over to Land Control to provide additional support to the maintenance personnel stuck there. When things were calmed, it would be a non-stop rollercoaster from there, that is if the Jackals didn't strike now.
In the meantime, everyone who wasn't trying to get some sleep was in the living room. Quinn had been awake for a few Waypoint segments before Daniel Romello put him down. He was snoring, arms propped over the middle couch, legs spread over the seats and head leaning back; the very image of a couch potato.
O'Reilly was watching the news attentively. There was no show of emotion to be exposed by the highlight reels of flying ships and rumbling tanks or the single counter light that Al had left on in the kitchen.
Duncan sat in the couch facing his, fading between consciousness and something that wasn't quite sleep. It was that twilight realm of thoughts, memories and imaginations that acted as the bridge between awareness and a creeping slumber.
He saw many things. Faces. Places. Events. He was jumping out of a tree, pretending to be an ODST in a pod then breaking his ankles. Then he turned and kneeled down to put Erica's ring on her finger. Then he was running away from something, only to end up running backwards far faster. He crashed into something hard. Turning again, he saw an open casket with his father's face on the inside rather than his mother's. He noticed how the rain was falling up into the sky rather than down like it did on her funeral, only to find that he was now looking at Reece decked out in his full BDU. Duncan handed him something heavy and watched him run with it. He was escorted by two tanks, one piloted by Colonel Mentieth, the other by Marty and Shugart. The tanks backed Reece up, firing into the buildings of New Alexandria as he ran straight into the open doors of the Molnar Colonial Bank. The bank lit up into a small sun, the blast knocking him back onto dirt. Coughing, he raised his head and saw that he lay at the edge of an impossibly large crater, one wedged between the leveled hills of the Sabat Mountain Range. Everything was smoldering, everything except a pool at the side of the crater within which a diamond-shaped, granite object was slowly rotating. It was the Molnar Bombing memorial. But coming closer made him see that the inscription on the memorial was changed. On it was the writing his dad had left for him on his Harvest rock, telling him happy birthday and that he'd be home soon. The rock started speeding up its rotation. The more it did, the more the world around him spun faster and faster until...
He was sitting on an operating table next to Stewards. He listened in as the captain asked him: "What do you want for your own life that at the end of it, you can say it was everything you wanted it to be?"
The words echoed off the walls of his hollow mind, coming back to him over and over again, gaining resonance with each repetition. Soon it was so loud that he shot awake.
O'Reilly turned to him, worried. "You good, Sunny Jim?"
Duncan's breathing was rushed and ragged. He took in slow breaths to calm himself. "Yeah...yeah, I think so."
The sounds of the raging winds outside turned his gaze to a nearby window. The world on the other side was darkened to a brownish nighttime.
Stewards' question was still there. It was like he was talking to him in a billion different conversations each asking the same thing. He couldn't answer any of them. However, he felt that he knew what the answer was, or better yet, where it was.
It was outside, hidden behind the storm.
It was Hayth.
More specifically, it was the idea of Hayth. Something about it drew him in right then. Stewards had asked him a question that cut through one excuse and life priority after another until it struck something he had never even bothered to notice. And yet he felt like he had an answer that he couldn't explain with words because of how insane it was. It brought a level of peace that he hadn't seen coming.
That peace, for now, was ignored for the sake of his mission.
"Hey Rile?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you think of this place? You know, life at the town compared to the old life?"
O'Reilly settled deeper into his seat. "Well, to be honest, it's not too different."
"How so?"
"Early morning wake-up calls, maintenance shifts, on-base utilities, its practically the same. It's just that the causes are different."
"I don't see how. Both are trying to defend some part of humanity, right? However big or small?"
"I don't see it that way. I don't think the folks on Kroedis saw it that way either."
Duncan chose his next words with the caution of an EOD specialist finding the proper way to approach the source of his livelihood.
"They were too busy looking at us leaving them behind to really worry about the UNSC, don't you think?"
The blow-up he was fearing from O'Reilly didn't happen. Not this time. Instead, he just looked tired. "Maybe..." He pulled at the back of his neck and cracked it loudly. "Or maybe not. I don't really know anymore."
"There wasn't much difference between the people on Kroedis and the folks here. They ended up with the same circumstances. They just didn't get the same result."
O'Reilly stared at him, though Duncan felt he was almost looking through him. "Can I ask you something, boyo?"
"Shoot."
"What would you have done differently, hey? If you could go back to that op, what would you do? Who would you have saved?"
"You sound like you've been thinking about this for a while."
"It's been...bothering me lately. I don't know. I don't know who I would have picked. Maybe I would have traded places with Palakiko. Maybe I could have said the right words to...stop Stewards at that starport." His gaze fell to the floor. "I could've said something. I could've, but I didn't. I just watched him cut those people down like grass. Grass, Duncan. Not people."
Duncan, knowing both their minds were addled by a need for sleep, felt freer to take off his filter, to say the things he normally wouldn't. "You think the guys aboard those Navy ships on Draco III maybe saw you the same way?"
O'Reilly stiffened up. He didn't answer right away. The question had obviously struck a chord he wasn't expecting it to.
"No." He said. "And yes."
"Which one?"
O'Reilly laughed. "Don't know. I didn't get to ask them what they thought, and they sure didn't care what I thought either."
"Did you care?"
"About?"
"What those people thought about us as we lifted off from that port?"
O'Reilly leaned forward and ran his hands over his face like he was trying to wash something off. "What do you want from me, Duncan, huh? What're you really askin' me? Come on, come clean."
Duncan leaned in as well. "Don't you think we're just like the UNSC?"
"No." O'Reilly said adamantly.
Duncan responded with equal adamancy. "Both sides saved people in the past. Both sides abandoned people in the past. They had different reasons but at the end of the day they did the same things."
O'Reilly shook his head. "Yeah, well, the AMADDS didn't abandon my entire company so there's that.
Duncan nodded. "You're right. We just abandoned 8 million people. That's all."
O'Reilly's brow twitched. "And what would you have wanted us to do, take the whole city in our pockets and run away with them?"
"We could have tried to help some of them. Even if it was just a few, we could have let some of them onboard-"
"I was going to say that back there when our captain decided to smoke them. It wasn't my call. So-, so what about you and the militia, huh? It wasn't hard to switch from killing hinge-heads to killing your neighborhood gunmen. How's that?"
"By then I was already used to it."
"Oh, really? Interesting."
"And you?"
"Took a little longer but I did the same."
Duncan leaned back out from the conversation and decided on a different tact before things got too heated. "All we're doing now is arguing about who could have done what and who was right to leave who. I don't think anyone's right, Riley, not even me. I just think we're still alive, so there's still a chance for us to do what we didn't do. I want to know what that thing is, I've wanted to know since I left Reach." He fixed O'Reilly with his stare. "Riley, if you had the chance to go back to the UNSC as you knew it, even to our Ravenport days with Cosmo, Stanton, Dalton and Mahoney, would you take it?"
O'Reilly teetered on the verge of visibly thinking on it and fading in and out of consciousness.
"...I don't know..."
A silence lasted between them for several long seconds.
O'Reilly sat upright by force of will alone. "What about you? After that op, Stewards said you could arrange for us to bring your family here any time. You have that escape for them now that I told you about. After all that, would you go back to the 7th, to the UNSC?"
"...I don't know..."
It was a lie, and not the first one either. He knew exactly what he wanted. In the lengthy quiet that followed, Duncan sensed a courage welling up within himself. He wanted to tell O'Reilly the truth of why he was here, that there was still a chance for him to come back. He still had a choice, and he wanted, no, needed to tell him that. His mouth opened to speak.
Quinn snored louder and fidgeted back into consciousness. He glanced between them. "What-, what're you two still up for, hmph?"
"Nothin'." O'Reilly said. "Right, boyo?"
"...Yeah..."
Satisfied with the answer or perhaps not caring to begin with, Quinn slowly returned to a fitful sleep. Duncan wanted to say it the moment he was sure the man was out, only for his own eyes to betray him. They closed before he could realize they were beyond his control. A second later he drifted off.
:********:
Christa couldn't sleep. Well, she could sleep and did, but she couldn't anymore. Her stomach wouldn't let her. It kept growling and burning all throughout the night because she hadn't eaten enough when Olivia had made dinner. She thought she was okay when they all went to sleep. Then her belly woke her up in the middle of the night. So did her dry throat.
Eventually she couldn't take it anymore. She was still tired and barely able to stand up straight when she got out of bed. It was one of the three that Olivia had in her bedroom in the back part of the store. Arthur was snoring away on the bed in front of hers, and Olivia was sleeping quietly on the larger one to the left of theirs. Christa could hardly open her eyes as she threw off the sheets. The coldness of the floor was the only thing keeping her from getting comfortable enough to pass back out.
She kept her heavy eyes partly closed as she quietly opened the door. She shut them tight while she headed down the hallway outside with its bright lights. She reached the last door and stopped.
For a second, just a second, she thought she heard the sharp sound of glass twinkling on the other side. She was too tired to care. She grabbed the handle and opened the door.
The first thing to greet her was the feeling of wind. She could hear it raging outside but she could feel a slight gust in her face that was too warm to be from the AC. She went on anyway, not caring for anything besides the burning in her belly and the dryness in her throat.
She figured water would be easier on her stomach as she rounded the check-out counter. Hopefully it wouldn't be too cold. She headed left for one of the aisles she knew had water. Her hazy, sleepy eyes stayed nearly closed all the while.
She barely noticed how the floor felt dustier beneath her bare feet, writing it off as Arthur not having cleaned up with the broom like Olivia had told him to. She thought the same thing for the harder pieces of whatever was also scattered on the floor, some of which felt a little sharp. She didn't care. She just wanted some water.
Christa moved down the aisle. Through her squinting, she saw the part of the shelves where they usually kept the water packs. Sure enough, there were a few packs there and they were low enough for her to reach. She headed for it.
Nearly there, she suddenly bumped into something hard and big. She backed up a little, rubbed her eyes and blinked to see what she'd run into.
There was nothing there.
She looked around, trying not to get pulled back into sleep. She figured she'd accidentally walked into one of the shelves after dozing off a bit, but she was sure that she'd kept far enough away from them. Stranger yet, the aisle ahead looked odd, like she was looking at it through water. Maybe she really was too tired.
She decided to walk closer to the side with the packs just in case. The water bottles came up. She tip-toed to get closer, wormed her hand into a hole on a side of one of the packs and pulled out a bottle. It wasn't too cold or too warm. Perfect. She screwed off the cap and started drinking.
:********:
Izari had to restrain every urge within his being to not kill the little human female standing in front of him.
The creature had appeared unexpectedly while he was examining the shelves of the place he'd most recently broken into, one he suspected was a food inventory of some sort for the local denizens. As he studied the contents, searching for any indications of his quarry, the tiny parasite of an organism bumped into the side of his left leg. He drew out his plasma rifle at that very moment and took aim.
But he didn't fire.
He noticed that the creature looked tired. It didn't seem aware enough to know what it had just bumped into. He held his breath and steadied his aim as it peered into and through him, trying to figure out what it had knocked against. Whatever conclusion it came to, it obviously didn't think he was the culprit because he watched it walk past him, staying closer to the other shelves. It took hold of one of the plastic water containers and was gulping it down without reservation.
The entire affair was unsightly. His plasma rifle remained aimed at the back of its head, more than enough at this range to blow it completely off its shoulders with just a single plasma bolt. He'd only had to use a few throughout the night so missing his first shot wasn't a concern here.
But he didn't fire.
As he watched it, he thought better of his intentions and decided not to pull the trigger. He waited for it to finish. When it did, it walked off with the water container, squinting in the light that led it to a door at the back of the inventory. He kept his footsteps slow and silent behind her.
She went in and left the door open. He carefully opened it up more and brought his head down in order to step into a corridor. He watched the human pass several other doors before slipping into the last one.
Izari closed in. He gently pulled at the door with one hand and aimed into the darkness inside with the other.
Despite the lack of light, his trained eyes penetrated the dark. The little human female had returned to a bed on the far side of the room and had fallen asleep. There was a young human male in the bed next to hers. Closer to the door was a larger bed hosting a larger, elderly female. She was big only by comparison to the little spawns, not to him. He could crush its windpipe then and there if he so chose. But he could just as easily dispatch all of them. They were all asleep, out of action, non-threats.
He wanted to kill them. He could have as well. It would require little effort to spare a bolt for each of them. However, he had to maintain his discipline. After all, he wasn't here for them.
Izari turned his back on the door. He searched the others but found nothing. Disappointed, and increasingly angered, he stealthily went back out into the main inventory. He returned to the glassy doors at the front which he'd bashed his way through earlier and disappeared into the stormy night.
:********:
The morning had come quickly though not quick enough for O'Reilly to notice. He was woken up after feeling a heavy object fall into his lap. Coming to, he found his MA5B there.
Stewards was standing over him with much of Gypsy Platoon nearby donning tactical gear and grabbing weapons. "Get geared up. We're heading to our first station."
He saw that Duncan was getting his equipment on as well. He remembered their conversation as he got up. There was much left unsaid there. He wasn't sure if it needed to be brought back up again or not. One thing was for certain; he was worried about his last reply. He wondered what his friend was actually thinking, not just what he was willing to say.
O'Reilly grabbed his tactical gear off the couch and slipped everything on. He noticed that the windows were letting in more light than before. There was no brown hue to it indicative of the storm. It had definitely passed, a welcomed relief.
"Alright," Stewards said, "Let's head out. Everyone assigned to Quinn goes with Jester. Everyone going with me is with Jinx. We're moving out to the first stationary positions. Let's go."
O'Reilly followed what remained of Gypsy out the front door. The calm, sunny day outside was also a big break from the monotony of the storm. However, in its wake, it had left everything caked in a layer of glassy dust, from the central parking lot to the surrounding houses.
Moving towards the parking lot showed them even more of the same thing just on a larger scale. The entire town was sparkling. Hayth, starting from the bottom of the Hill to the wall, was layered in bright brown, glittering dirt. People were walking briskly across town while kids played in the dust piles on the streets like it was a snow day. For the most part, the roads were occupied by AMADDS platoons driving in flatbed trucks to different positions around Hayth. They flocked to the wall, mainly to the four gates. Machine gun nests were being setup atop those sections of the wall and watch towers were being hastily constructed. AIE-486H heavy machine guns were getting set into place there along with their M247H cousins. Several of either kind guarded the roads leading to each gate with overlapping fields of fire. It would definitely be coming in handy soon, and he hoped if there was an attack that they would have the homefield advantage.
Gypsy was part of several platoons moving to fortify positions around the Hill. They used supplies brought in by a convoy of Hogs to create machine gun and sniper emplacements on the overlooks. Those would be the best spots from which the main forces could renegotiate a deteriorating situation should hostile forces push into the interior.
Gypsy focused on a wide alleyway between two of the houses to the east that came just before a 20-meter cliff, the highest point on the Hill. They were filling up sandbags with piles of the dust left by the storm when the sound of engines caught their ear.
Two flatbed trucks pulled into the alley. They slotted themselves neatly into the frame of the sandbags they were laying. A second look revealed that they were actually missile trucks. That was due to the imposing sight of the launch platforms mounted on their backs, and atop those were situated a set of intimidating weapons systems.
Each was a metal cylinder 1 meter in width and 5 meters in length. The forward tips were capped with an iron black dome. The rest of the body was segmented into three equal compartments, each covered in several steel stabilizer fins.
They were military-grade hardware: SHIVA-class thermonuclear warheads. There were two of them, one on either truck. The mechanisms of the launch platforms rurred up and elevated them so that they would have a good view of the east. With that much ordnance, O'Reilly knew they could take out a whole Covenant ship. One for the energy shielding, one for the hull. He smiled, confident that with these Hayth had little to worry about.
But he noticed that while everyone else was grinning with a similar satisfaction, there was one who looked worried. No, he seemed on the verge of horror. It was Duncan. The look fell off his face a second later, replaced by a faked grin that only O'Reilly saw.
Duncan whistled as he walked over to Stewards who was standing out in front of the trucks. "Where'd you guys get heavyweights like these?"
"It pays to work with weapon's development companies." Stewards said, hands on hips. "Sometimes they give you offers in exchange, sometimes they show you better ones that they didn't even offer."
"I see." Duncan marveled at the devices. "So we're nuking them just from here then?"
"No, we have four more of these. As far as I know, they're setting up two at the auditorium and two at the Bastille Building. If the Jackals bring in the big guns then we'll have to make sure these boys are ready to fire on demand. We'll nuke them from a distance if we need to. We just need to confirm where the Jackals are."
"...Right, guess the planets already glassed anyway. Man, this is some serious stuff."
Stewards turned to him. "We're very serious about protecting our people, Duncan. I'm sure you'll understand when you bring your own family here." He patted him on the shoulder and moved on to another task.
Duncan kept staring at the two warheads. O'Reilly stared at him in turn. He saw that same worry from before resurface on his face then subside again, replaced by a subtle determination. Duncan moved off.
O'Reilly kept an eye on him. He wanted to know what had him so bothered.
Five minutes of packing sandbags later, he saw Duncan pass him by and approach Stewards. He asked the captain if he could quickly run down to the town to check on the Dennis and Grandson's store. O'Reilly perked up when he heard the name. Since they were done establishing their positions, Stewards let him go on his way, telling him to get back quickly before they left to recon the outside area.
O'Reilly waited a few minutes. Three at first then two more before he went to Stewards. He asked to be sent after Duncan to make sure he didn't get caught up in one of Arthur's games. The captain agreed, gave him a similar warning and sent him off.
It was also a lie. Sure, Duncan might get caught up with Arthur's antics. However, that wasn't why he went after him. Something felt off, wrong even. He couldn't tell what exactly it was other than that he didn't believe him when he said he was going to check up on the store. Their conversation earlier had unsettled him, even more so now that he was acting strange after seeing the SHIVAs.
He came down the Hill's main driveway into the town. What unsettled him even more in passing through the streets were the disturbances he found. At the same time as denizens of the town were re-shuddering their houses and preparing for the anticipated Jackal assault, there were several occasions where he found houses that had been broken into. Both teams of AMADDS and the local constables would be gathered just outside, standing around a body covered in a bloodied sheet and lying on a stretcher. A few times he even saw hands or legs sticking out that appeared burnt. He grew increasingly alarmed because he could recognize plasma scoring when he saw it.
Had the Covenant already breached Hayth? If they had, why was there no announcement made to the local garrison? Was it possible then that Jackals had infiltrated them during the storm when their defenses weren't as strong? And if no one else had heard any reports about Jackals getting in, did that mean that there was a gag order imposed from the top, or that it wasn't the Jackals at all?
He wanted to ask the people investigating the 'crime scenes'. Nevertheless, he had to keep moving. He didn't want to lose Duncan wherever he was going, assuming it wasn't the corner-side store.
His suspicions were growing by the second. He needed answers. He felt like he needed to figure things out now or he never would.
When he reached the Dennis and Grandson's store, he discovered the glass of the revolving front doors were shattered. Olivia was on the outside and Arthur on the inside, both using brooms to sweep up the glass shards and dust strewn all throughout. Olivia stopped once she saw him. "Oh, morning James. What're you doing here so early?"
"What happened here?" O'Reilly asked, skipping the formalities.
"Some robbers broke into our store last night." Arthur declared.
"What?"
Olivia waved a dismissive hand. "Don't mind him. We don't really know if it was a thief or not because nothing was stolen. All our inventory was still there and accounted for. Chris is inside doing a few extra checks for me just to be sure. It looks like whoever they were, they decided to break into a few other homes in the neighborhood too. By the sound of things-"
O'Reilly held up a hand for her to stop. "Who's Chris?"
"She's the little girl Duncan brought to us for safekeeping. Apparently, he saved her on Kroedis II and brought her here. By the way, I think it's a fine thing what you guys did saving her from her home and-...what's wrong?"
What was wrong was written all over O'Reilly's stunned face. When had Duncan ever saved any locals on that op? Or anything other than... a single fusion core. That part of the chat the other night where he questioned him about saving the folks on the planet now rang warning bells in his head. He remembered watching just as stunned as Duncan hopped off their Hog in New Palermo and ran for the spilt fusion cores, saying he wouldn't let their efforts be for nothing. He remembered how Duncan had forgotten 'something' back aboard the Mayweather and had chosen to stay behind to find it and get another ride. He remembered how Stewards had received that complaint from Schonberg after they'd delivered the goods to Land Control, informing him that one of the 20 cores had been apparently disassembled. It was missing its main plasma core and was just an outer shell. A shell more than large enough to fit a small person, even a little girl.
Something wasn't just wrong here; it was suspiciously out of place.
And it all revolved around his friend.
He thought to ask to see Christa in order to talk to her when he realized the higher gravity of the situation. He needed to know what other secrets his 'friend' was hiding.
"Did Duncan come by here earlier?
"He did, actually. He came to check in on us to make sure we were okay. Why, what's wrong?"
"He's been acting a little weird. Do you know where he went?"
"No idea, but he said he'd be back soon to help us make repairs for the next storm."
"Ah. Mind if I take a look around?"
"Sure."
"Thanks." O'Reilly walked along the side of the store.
"Oh, and if you see a thief back there, let us know, okay hun?"
"No problem." He turned the corner and kept on moving until he was at the other end of the store. He came to the alleyway between the back and the appliance shop which lay right before the western side of Hayth's wall. He walked in, searching for any clues. The only thing there was a single dumpster.
Upon closer inspection he found an odd detail that stuck out to him. The dumpster was positioned slightly over an old manhole cover, though not completely. However, the cover was slid partly away from a darkened entrance. What lay beyond, he couldn't see. It was most likely from the old colony on Kholo.
"Don't tell, Gran."
He turned around. Arthur was standing a short way's off behind him. "Why'd you follow me, Arty?"
"Ugh." He looked about for what O'Reilly knew to be a good excuse. In the end he found none. "Okay, it's just a sewer tunnel. That's it, I swear. I didn't mean to hide it from you guys."
O'Reilly lightly kicked the lid. "Does Duncan know this is here?"
"I only use it to go outside sometimes, honest."
"Does Duncan know this is here?"
"Ye-, yeah. I showed it to him once when he came with me to get my ball back."
"...Has he used this thing at any other time?"
"I-, I don't know."
"Okay." He set his boot on the cover. "Did you close this thing completely the last time you were here?"
Arthur nodded hesitantly.
"And do you know where it leads?"
"It ends at a couple buildings a short walk past the wall." He pointed. "Just please don't tell Gran. She'll never let me have any free time again if she knows I've been sneaking out."
O'Reilly mentally recorded in what direction he'd pointed. He feigned a calm smile. "No worries, boyo. I'll keep this just between you and me." He used his boot to kick the lid back into place, sealing the entrance shut. "You, me and Duncan."
:********:
Thermonuclear warheads weren't part of the brochure. Duncan was sure of that much as he sprinted across the deserted wastelands to the east of Hayth. Stewards hadn't been too revealing on those kinds of details. The AMADDS truly did run on a need-to-know basis. Now he knew, and now he was racing to tell others who needed to know before it was too late.
There was no telling how the storms might have changed Operation TROJAN's timeline. For all he knew, HEV pods could come raining down at any moment. If they came in without the knowledge of the SHIVAs, or without the tactical recalculations that would undoubtedly be required following that level of intel, the lives of every member of the operation could be put at risk. The best time for the op today was at the point between the last storm and the next one, AKA, at any second or however long this calm would last. He needed to act fast for everyone else's sake.
After he'd left the sewer tunnel, he ran at top speed in the direction of his communications device. Weeks before this, White had given him the long-range radio equipment to keep in touch. It had proven amazingly flexible in that it could be compacted down to the girth of a few sheets of paper. It was that extreme flexibility that enabled him to slot it into a secret section in his bag, the same bag Quinn had had Al search back at that hotel in New Alexandria. He was then free to bring it with him, that and two other items of importance. He might have to use all three soon, but only after he did what needed to be done.
Eventually, baptized in sweat and taking in shallow breaths, he arrived at the old intersection between the four sinking skyscrapers. His kilometers-long run turned the trudge up the slight incline leading into the scraper on his left into a literal uphill battle. Near the precipice he noticed the storm slowly slipping over the far eastern horizon. It gave him all the extra strength he needed to get inside and power through the catacomb corridors to reach the central space.
At the top of the pile of debris within the ruined chamber was the glint of the satellite dish. It still peeked out from the surviving steelwork. He ran up to its side, hassled his way through the boot up process and selected the 'emergency call' function. The initialization symbol kept going, going and going for what felt like hours.
Then it stopped and the image of Commander White flashed onto the screen. He almost didn't recognize him since he was inside an enclosed space and dressed in a kind of battle-armor. The strange ODST variant he wore had a slit visor which depolarized to show his face. He did not look happy to see him. "An emergency contact risks overwriting radio security, Iris, so this better be-"
"They have nukes sir, SHIVAs."
White's displeasure evaporated. Visibly taken aback, he asked; "Numbers and positions?"
"Six of them. Two on the Hill. Two at the auditorium. Two at the Bastille Building. They're using mobile launch platforms to maneuver them around in preparation for the Jackals. Sir, those things are meant for taking out Covenant ships in space. I'd hate to see what they could do in-atmosphere."
Judging by his expression, Duncan became aware that he'd just thrown a very large wrench into the UNSC's plans for Hayth. "Did you learn this just now?"
"Yes. They must have kept them hidden. I was only able to learn they had them now."
"I'd like to know who the fools were that allowed them to get their hands on that level of tech." White commented, his voice growing hoarse. The firmness in his tone quickly returned. "Iris, do not return to Hayth. There's no stopping the operation. ODSTs will be dropping down in 10 minutes. But if worse comes to worse, we'll need you to stay where you are."
"I don't know if I can do that, sir."
White glowered, stern but quizzical. "And why not?"
"There are civilians down here I need to secure first."
"There are plenty of civilians there to secure, trooper. Our problem is that now that we know they have SHIVAs, the last thing we'll need them to also have is a UNSC hostage. You would have to have left your post to get here, right? If so then there's a chance that you're already compromised."
"I don't believe so, sir. I made sure to let them know I was going somewhere else."
"And did you stop to think that they might've found you walking off at a critical time like this suspicious? That they might've followed-"
Duncan saw when White stiffened as he looked at something past him. He felt a chill permeate his entire being.
"Iris, behind you!"
Duncan swirled about as the communications link flashed off from White breaking contact. That was the least of his concerns. Right then, his main worry, the one that put a cold feeling in his gut, was seeing O'Reilly staring up at him.
He was standing near the bottom of the debris pile outside one of the corridor entrances, looking wide-eyed at him. The afternoon light shone down on them through the hole in the roof. They stared at each for a short eternity. Then O'Reilly's brows slowly pinched together and arrowed down into the single most menacing look he had ever seen on the man's face. For all his jovial nature, Duncan never thought he could seem so angry and so betrayed.
"...Riley...I-"
"Who's your friend, Duncan?"
He winced at the bitter plainness of his voice. He saw the MA5 in his hands and remembered the one that he now held in his own. "Listen, Riley-"
"Who's your friend, Duncan?" O'Reilly asked more harshly.
Duncan didn't know how to answer in any way that would end well. But now he was cornered and was fresh out of lies and half-truths.
"Riley, let's just talk-"
O'Reilly brought up his rifle and aimed at him. "WHO'S YOUR FRIEND, DUNCAN!?"
Who was his friend?
The question sounded different in his own head than it did out loud. Right there, at that moment in time, who really was his friend?
"I can explain."
"You better start, boyo." O'Reilly warned. "'Cause I'm ready to start somethin' myself right now, you traitor."
Traitor. The word stung in a way he wasn't expecting it to. Not because of who he was never allied with, but because of who'd said it. Duncan swallowed hard, closed his eyes to steel himself, then opened them and dropped his rifle.
O'Reilly briefly watched it slide down the pile. It was long enough for Duncan's right hand to slip to his sidearm. He brought his M6 to bear, saw O'Reilly's eyes widen even more as he realized his mistake all too late and pulled the trigger.
The first shot hit him in the right shoulder and he spun back from the force but didn't drop the gun. He tried to take aim again and Duncan willed himself to put the second round in his side, bypassing the weakest part of his vest completely.
O'Reilly staggered back, staring up in shock. He finally dropped the weapon and fell onto his back, clutching at his wounds and groaning.
Duncan abandoned the communications device. He pulled an object out of his pocket, dashed down to O'Reilly at full speed and slipped down to his side. Before the Irishman could react, he jammed the needle of the morphine injector into his right thigh and watched its contents hiss into his bloodstream.
"What'd you..."
O'Reilly's eyes rolled back into their sockets and he went limp. It was a powerful cocktail of medical morphine and a specialized sleeping agent. White had handed it to him on the condition of injecting it into O'Reilly if he refused to defect, but advised he do it only if the man was still in a vulnerable enough position to try. It had worked.
"I'm sorry, Rile."
Duncan hoisted his friend over his shoulders and carried him outside. He was immediately surprised to find a Warthog parked at the bottom of the skyscraper. That must have been O'Reilly's. However, the storm had proved faster. It was almost right on top of them now, hanging as a giant wave of swirling dust quickly rolling towards them. Seeing that it was less than several hundred meters away, he decided on a last-minute gamble. He ran down to the Hog and placed O'Reilly in the passenger seat. He strapped him down with the safety belts first then hopped behind the wheel and got them moving.
Reaching the Hog's top speed allowed them to race through the ruins. However, the storm was the faster of the two and remained at their heels.
At what he deduced was a quarter of the way through the journey, the sandstorm finally overtook him and swallowed them up into its mirky depths. He could hardly see the road 5 meters ahead of him as he turned onto different routes, all hopefully leading to the same destination. All the while the winds wailed around him as the dust scratched at the exposed parts of his skin. He could hardly imagine what O'Reilly would be feeling if he weren't drugged.
"Why're you...doing this?"
Duncan nearly floored the brakes. He looked over to O'Reilly. The man was clinging to consciousness, fighting to stay aware of his situation.
"Just stay still, alright?" Duncan warned. "Your wounds will get worse if you move too much so stay put."
"...You...shot me."
"I'm getting you out of here, Rile. You gave me no choice. I'm sorry, I really am."
"You're taking me back...to the UNSC...for them to finish me off...aren't you?"
"I'm saving you. I'm saving you. Just hang in there."
"I...didn't ask you to...save me." O'Reilly groaned at some unseen effort. "You'll live...to regret this, boyo...all of it."
The seat belt keeping him down came loose and O'Reilly, with all the force he was able to muster, hurled himself out of the Hog. Duncan watched in horror as he barreled away and disappeared into the dusty whirlwind. He'd realized far too late that his charge had been slowly undoing his restraints.
Duncan turned hard and hit the brakes. The Hog screeched from the effort. He drove back to where he thought he'd landed but couldn't find him.
"Riley!" He called.
Nothing answered but the wind. The more he drove the more he saw that he wasn't even on a road anymore. There was just dirt beyond his windshield. Endless spans of dirt. He couldn't see any landmarks that he could have used to tell where O'Reilly had fallen either.
"Riley!"
Again, nothing but the wind answered him.
"RILEY!"
Amica - Friend