Halo: Feet First

by MikeDice

Halo: Feet First covers the story of a team of UNSC Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the 7th Battalion, 105th Shock Troops Division. The main character, Duncan Iris, faces the full horror of the covenant war effort against humanity as well as the brave retaliation of outnumbered and outgunned UNSC forces. However, he also witnesses the turning of the tides as the war progresses.

139. Battle of Reach - Chapter 12 (Naufragi)

Chapter 12 – Naufragium

August 12th, 2552 - (05:15 Hours - Military Calendar)

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach

Viery Territory, Aboard Covenant SDV-class heavy corvette

:********:

Smoke.

A whole lot of it clogged Duncan's lungs so that he could hardly breathe. He tried to open his eyes and was met with heat. As his senses returned, he realized everything around him was hot. He coughed and wheezed as he found the strength to prop himself up on his hands and knees. The smoke threatened not only to choke him but to cost him his breakfast. He held it down, figuring that throwing up now would only make matters worse.

He was sore from head to toe. It seemed no part of him was spared the pain of the fall, especially not his shoulder. A dull ache pulsed from the wound, growing sharp if he moved his arm the wrong way.

What happened?

As if to answer his question there came a deep, metallic groan that resonated from somewhere in the ship. No, he realized, not somewhere but everywhere. The whole corvette was shaking sporadically.

Memories of being tossed around like a ragdoll came rushing back. He put the pieces together and figured that they must have crashed. But why? They had almost taken control. Had the shipmaster settled on taking them out with him rather than handing over his namesake? Then he remembered the explosion from the direction of the stern. The crash wasn't controlled whatsoever so it made more sense that something had happened directly to the engines rather than any action taken by the bridge.

He slowly rose to his feet, not an easy task with the floor being so uneven. However, it didn't take long for him to perceive that he wasn't standing on the floor.

There were breaks in the haze that allowed him to see more of where he'd wound up. He was still in the brig. However, the dimensions didn't make any sense, that is until he saw that he had one boot on the wall and another on the actual floor. The entire room, no, the entire ship was lying partly on its side.

He heard voices in the smoke. There was coughing, shouting, calls for help and more coughing. He recognized a few right away.

"Epsilon, sound off." The Staff said.

Through a wheezing breath, Nova replied. "Ep-2 here, sir."

"Some cruise that was." Zack coughed. "Nothing on the itinerary mentioned crashing. Someone want to explain that 'cause I think I missed that schedule change."

"You and me both, hermano." Rico said. "Hey, where's Ep-8? Ep-8, you still in here?"

"Right here." Duncan replied. "Wherever here is."

"Can you move on your own?" Renni asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Where are you guys? Can't see a thing right now."

"Hold on." The Staff said before placing a Nav point at a distant spot in the brig. "Alright, everyone, regroup on my position. Hotel, Lima-6, same to you. Double-time it."

Duncan got a move on. Despite his shoulder, everything else was recovering just fine. In seconds he went from hobbling to jogging. The Nav point led him along what he saw to be a sweet spot between the walls of the lower cells and the floor. He made careful strides whenever he passed the cells, putting a hand against the raised floor to avoid falling into one.

On the way he spotted an ODST a few steps ahead. The sheathed katana on his back was a dead giveaway.

"Ep-9?"

Mito briefly peeked over his shoulder to see who it was. He gave him a thumbs up. "What's up, buddy?"

"Not much, you?"

"Just enjoying the rollercoaster."

Duncan noticed he wasn't putting a hand to the 'floor' to balance himself. Instead, he was crouching and putting one foot ahead of the other along the makeshift pathway. His hands were free to shift his rifle from right to left, searching for anything hostile. To Duncan, his appearance struck a chord. From the way he carried himself to the katana to the dark armor he wore, Mito really did look like the shinobi, the 'ninjas' that he admired so much.

Seeing him also reminded Duncan that he'd lost his rifle. Once again, he was forced to rely on his pistol. He whipped it out with his freehand and kept using the other to guide himself forward.

"Hey, Hanzou?"

"Yeah?"

"How're you doing that, the balancing thing?"

Mito peered back at him, changed his visor and flashed a smile. "Practice. Years of practice."

"Think I can get the hang of it in a couple seconds?"

"You could try but I wouldn't advise it. There's-"

A shape came tumbling through the haze overhead and flew right between them, landing with a loud thud against the wall. They took aim only to find that it was the body of a dead Brute.

"Where'd that come from?" Duncan asked.

"Probably from the second floor on the other side. I think the tilt is making the bodies-"

Another loud thud from behind made Duncan jump. He whirled around to see someone struggling further back. With the weight of a Jackal on top of him, Hector was fighting to avoid falling into an open cell.

"Hey, Ep-4, need some help?"

Hector shook his head. "No thanks. I got it."

In a strained move he shrugged off the corpse like an uncomfortable fur coat, letting it slip into the cell instead.

Hector cracked his neck. "Those things are heavier than they look."

"Especially when they land on top of you." Zack added as he emerged from the smoke behind him. "It's raining dead Covies around here. I could definitely appreciate it more with an umbrella."

"Or something heat retardant." Hector huffed. "Let's get out of here, I don't want to get roasted."

Mito carried on at the head of the group. Through the smoke, Duncan picked up on the fact that he didn't see many dead Covenant lying around. At one point he looked down and found them. Most of the corpses had fallen into the prison cells on the brig's portside. They were open and wide enough to receive the enemy's corpses like metal tombs. That was precisely what they were now. Grunts, Jackals, Brutes and Elites lay in large piles, left in awkward positions indicative of a long fall.

He made out the silhouettes of other troopers moving on their right and left. Groups of several at a time were clambering along the second-floor catwalk. Others skirted along divides in the flooring of the courtyard like ledges. He switched on his VISR and saw them more clearly. Everyone was headed towards the Staff's Nav Point which lay less than 20 meters ahead. He could see the Staff himself and a few others already there, waiting at what looked like a set of doors.

In the last 10 meters his group came to a particularly wide cell, one Duncan guessed was used to contain either bigger prisoners or larger amounts of them. Mito was the first to jump. With a running start he leapt to the other side, sticking the landing. He turned around and gestured for them to do the same.

"You really are Hanzou, you know that?" Duncan kidded.

"Yeah, well you're Kato Danzo then." Mito replied. "Second best doesn't sound so bad, right? Now come on, let's see some magic."

"Guess I'll put on a show." Using a running start, Duncan jumped across the mouth of the cell. His boots made contact but slipped off the other side.

Mito managed to grab his hands before he fell. "Hey, think you could use some of that magic to make yourself a little lighter?"

"Nah, second best, remember?"

"Right."

Mito pulled him up enough to get his footing back. Duncan reached for a better handhold but stopped, hearing a groan from somewhere down below. It had come from the cell. It sounded human.

Once he was safe from falling, he leaned over the edge to peer back into the dark. "I think I heard somebody."

"I heard it too." Mito replied, looking in as well.

Duncan's VISR mode gave him a glimpse of everything inside. There were a few dead bodies that the software rightly recognized as Covenant. What it couldn't recognize was a single form, smaller than the rest, that still moved. It was human though not an ODST which immediately narrowed down the list of suspects.

"Isn't that that friend of yours?" Mito asked.

"...I...wouldn't call him that." Duncan said. "I don't think he'd call me that either."

"He might now. Looks like he needs help."

Al needed more than just help. That was obvious from the pool of blood forming beneath him. Duncan saw he was grabbing at something. At first, he thought the former merc had spotted him and was reaching for a weapon. However, the VISR couldn't identify it as such. He had to rely on his own eyes to see that it was in fact a piece of metal pipework, one that had broken free from a jagged hole in the rear wall of the cell. Al wasn't holding it but rather holding onto it from where it had impaled him.

Al's groans turned to ragged coughs. Blood seeped out of his mouth to drain down his paling face, joining the growing pool around him.

"Want to leave him like that?" Mito asked. "I mean, he did stab you. It looked bad too."

Duncan eyed the mercenary and his struggles. He could see as clear as day that he wasn't going to make it, not by himself. The numbness in his own wound was setting back in. Despite what had just happened, he still felt a tug on his conscience. The feeling was amplified when a set of sparking conduits suddenly caught alight on the opposite side of the cell. The conflagration filled the space with illumination so that he could see the look on Al's face. There was no anger there anymore, only a wearying and grim realization of what was about to happen. Al's struggles petered out. He stared at the flames as they consumed one corpse after another, making their steady advance towards him.

Duncan was grabbing onto the edge of the cell wall before anyone could object or figure out what he was doing. Anyone, even himself. He clambered down halfway before dropping to the bottom.

"Ep-8, what're you doing!?" Zack called down. "Come back up here man, let him burn!"

Duncan ignored him. He crouched over to Al and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Try to stab me again and I'll shoot you."

Al's bloodshot eyes fluttered as he craned his head to see him. He took a deep breath and spoke with barely contained agony.

"Does it look like...I can stab anyone...right now? Besides..." He glanced at the flames. "I don't think...you need to worry about shooting me...at this point. I'm done."

"Not here you're not, not like this."

Duncan edged closer, checking to make sure his quarry's hands were empty. He checked on the fires as well to see how far they'd spread. They were burning through a pair of Brutes and were inching their way towards the worst things possible. A trio of Grunts lay just between him and the flames. The methane tanks on their backs were bad news. Once the fires reached them, the whole cell would light up like an oven.

"Ep-8, the tanks!" Hector warned.

"I see'em!"

"You've only got a minute or two!" Mito added. "If you're saving this guy then make it fast!"

Duncan nodded as he got on his knees. He reached beneath Al for the part of the pipe that was sticking out from the wall. He got a good grasp and tried to bend and pry it from the base. Al gritted his teeth, hissing from the pain. That was all the act accomplished. The metal was tough. Nevertheless, Duncan kept trying.

"'Zander', huh? That was smart. I really didn't pick up on that one."

"What?"

"Looks like this thing just missed your spine." Duncan reached his leg into the hole in the wall and put his boot up against a lower part of the pipe, a piece that was further away from Al's back. He pressed his boot against it. "You're not the kid I remember. Your little stunt just now told me that much. Life hasn't been too kind to you these last few years, has it? Or is it the reverse?"

"Why do you care? You're the one...who got me here."

"I didn't get you anywhere, Al. I was just doing my job."

"Your job screwed up everything I had. That was your fault, not mine."

"...It did...but didn't you just say you deserved to be here?"

"I-…" Al paused for a while. "I-…"

"So, which is it?"

Al said nothing.

Duncan managed to bend the pipe though only by a few degrees. The material was strong, his legs less so. "I need something better than my boots here."

Al's weak voice reached his ears. "Why are you trying...to help me? I stabbed you."

"And it looks like the ship returned the favor. Right now, I don't want to see someone I know burn like they're really in hell, so do yourself a favor and look for something that can help."

"Why? I'll only...get arrested and-...and end up in a cell no better than this one."

Duncan depolarized his visor to flash him a desperate grin. "It's better than getting barbecued, right?"

Al's placid face showed no sign that he'd caught the joke. He turned again to the fire which was now beginning to move on. It was gradually crossing the gap between an Elite and the Grunts by consuming flammable debris.

Duncan didn't know what else to say. His worries were interrupted when Hector's massive frame hopped down between Al and the Grunts. The bulky ODST got to work grabbing the aliens by their gas tanks and dragging them further away from the flames.

He tossed the last one against the wall as far as he could. "That should buy us another minute. Alright Ep-8, what do you need?"

Duncan pointed to the pipe. "Something strong enough to break this."

"Or sharp enough." Mito said.

The two of them looked to their squadmate and followed his pointing finger to the dead Elite. Most of the alien was already burnt or burning though not all of it. Its belt was still relatively intact. On it, the curved hilt of an energy sword glinted in the fire.

"That'll do." Duncan said.

"You want me to get that?" Hector shook his head. "Sorry, there's no way I'm cooking myself for an Innie, especially one that tried to kill one of my guys."

"That's fine." Al said. "Leave me...be. Let me die."

"It's what he wants, Ep-8. We should respect his wishes."

Duncan shot him a look that pierced straight through his reluctant facade.

Hector sighed. "God, you've got to work on that bleeding heart of yours, man."

Duncan watched him approach the flames. Hector took careful steps between the pieces of burning debris. A small wall of fire stood between him and the Elite. He took out his SMG, grabbed it by the barrel and reached for the sword with it. When he was close enough, he hooked the stock around the hilt and pulled. The weapon fell loose from the belt and right into the flames.

Hector groaned. He quickly reached in a hand and pulled it out though not before some of the inferno spread to his arm.

He furiously patted it out and ran back over with the sword. "This thing's burning through my gloves here. How do you want to do this?"

"Shave some off the top first then cut him loose."

"Alright." Hector held the hilt out in front of him. After a bit of fidgeting, twin forks of azure energy lanced out from it. The size made it obvious how big the disparity was between the Elites meant to wield it and humans. Even for someone as big as Hector he had to use both hands to get a good handle on it. He crouched down beside Al, planting a boot against the nearby wall to brace himself. He leveled the blade with the part of the pipe poking out from Al's chest and started to saw his way through. It didn't take long. In under a few seconds, a piece of the pipe fell off to the side, leaving a little stub sticking out of Al. Hector bent down and started on the pipe beneath him.

Another conduit within the cell sparked with life and exploded into flames. More fires arose across the floor and closed in on the Grunts.

"Not good." Hector complained, sawing twice as fast. Flames had reached the legs of the first Grunt when he finally cut through the last resistance. The pipe broke off, freeing Al. Duncan grabbed him by the arms and maneuvered him over his shoulder, remembering too late that it was the same one that got stabbed. He winced and quickly put him down.

"I'll carry him." Hector said. "You go on up top."

Duncan nodded and began clambering his way back out.

"Hurry up." Zack insisted as he skirted around the edges of the opening to reach the other side. "Those tanks are going off any second now and Ep-1 wants to know what's taking us so long."

"On our way." Hector replied.

He took Al and draped him carefully over his shoulder. Once his charge was secure, he used the floor and the wall to make whatever handholds and footholds he could. The extra baggage couldn't stop him from clearing the cell right behind Duncan.

The two of them escaped a moment before the flames reached the gas tanks, setting off a chain reaction of chemical explosions that brightened up the whole brig.

The four troopers moved along the last of the cells before arriving at the rendezvous point. The rest of Epsilon was there as well as Hotel and Lima-6, standing, leaning and crouching on either side of one of the brig's exits. Those assembled took a second to espy the wounded mercenary with Hector.

"Hey, hermanos, why'd you bring Señor McStabby along?" Rico asked.

Hector shrugged. "I don't know, ask Señor McStabbed over here."

Everyone looked to Duncan who was already prepared. "Sorry for the delay, Ep-1. I didn't want to see him burn."

Renni's surgical gaze sized up Al's injury. "That looks serious, Ep-8. I don't think he's going to make it."

"We don't have to save him." Duncan explained. "I just want to move him."

The squads looked amongst themselves uncertainly. The Staff didn't say a word either, glancing between the merc and his subordinate. At length an explosion from deeper within the ship stole their attention as the floor vibrated beneath them.

"That one sounded closer." Hotel-1 said.

The battalion's communication frequency came alive in their helmets with many voices calling for aid or issuing orders. A single voice cut over them all, that of the colonel.

"Alpha, Bravo, heed and stand to. Start extracting yourselves from the wreck. Use whatever routes you can find to make your way portside. The crash tore a few breaches in the hull so there's more ways to get out than just the hangar. Once you're outside, head for the mountains to our immediate west. We'll regroup there. Get to it, there's no telling when this whole thing might go off."

Another explosion in the distant bowels of the corvette added extra weight to his words.

Seeing that everyone was accounted for, the Staff pointed to the doors. "Let's move. Keep it nice and orderly. There's no way to know what all got shaken around in the crash."

The two squads converged before the doors which still had sufficient function left in their sensors to activate at their presence. They cycled apart to reveal the slanting corridor that awaited them.

"That's looking more like a climb than a jog." Hotel-1 noted as he joined the Staff at the threshold. "Sure your guys can keep up?"

"That's my line." The Staff replied. "Follow me people, slow and steady."

The two squad leaders were the first to descend into the corridor. The others funneled in behind them, grabbing onto divides and small compartments in the wall to keep themselves upright.

Standing at the back of the outgoing crew, Hector tapped Duncan to get his attention. "About what you said, Ep-8. Since you want to move him, you can have him."

"What, is he too much for you, big guy?"

"No but it makes a lot more sense for the person who wants to get him out of here to be the one who makes it happen."

Duncan peered at Al and his half-conscious state. "Alright, I'll take him."

"What?"

"I said I'll take him."

"Ugh, I was only joking, man. You can't carry him. He's busted but so are you."

"No, you're right. I said we should get him out of here, I should be the one to do it."

Hector stared at him to see if he meant it. Duncan never wavered. Ultimately, his squadmate planted his charge over his shoulder. Thankfully it was his good one.

"You-, ugh...you sure you're good?" Hector asked.

Duncan bit his lip from the weight of his new burden. To relieve it, he took his rucksack off his back and handed it over to Hector.

"Okay, good to go."

"You sure you're sure?"

An explosion blew through a set of doors on the other side of the brig, sending their remains clattering and sliding across the courtyard.

"I'm sure enough." Duncan said and hustled after the others. Hector rushed out as well, sticking close to keep an eye on him.

:********:

The corridors of the corvette wound on and on. The floor and walls blended into the same thing, forcing the ODSTs to walk on uneven surfaces. The jungle of dangling conduits and debris didn't help matters. Neither did the ceiling lights which were either completely dead or suffered from sporadic flickering.

Duncan was taken to task trying to move with another person. Everyone else passed through the carnage of the passageways with the same difficulty as each other, having to step over fallen crates and dead Covenant. He had to do it all while carrying someone on his shoulder. Said someone hadn't said a word or even made a sound since they left the brig, that is aside from an occasional wheeze.

The group travelled in a single line. The way the corvette had landed made it nigh impossible to do otherwise. At first, they were heading towards the portside. If the ship was grounded then there was a high chance a few chunks had been torn out of its side. Like the colonel said, there should've been plenty of room to make an escape. However, spreading fires from damaged components and barricades of tossed materials sealed off those routes.

After a third try at finding a hull breach was halted by a massive inferno, the Staff made them change tact. Instead, they navigated back the way their HUDs identified as south. They made for the hangar in the hopes of using the bay doors to escape.

The way there was clogged with smoke that swamped them from all sides. It played hell with their vision and overwhelmed their helmet filters. Coughing and haggard breaths became the order of the day. They moved faster to try to clear those passageways with greater amounts of fumes. Duncan wasn't sure how Al fared in those tough spots because he was too busy trying not to lose himself along the way.

They leapt over intersections-turned-shafts and pried open jittering doors through which energy still coursed. In the span of a few minutes, they reached the entrance to the bay and were pleased to see its motion sensors respond to their arrival.

The hangar's overhead lights were dead. However, the bay was still well-lit. That was thanks to the abundance of morning sunlight that streamed through the doors on both sides. Their energy barriers were down. While the tilt of the corvette had turned the starboard door into a pseudo-skylight, anything that could fall had slipped towards the portside door.

The sight waiting for them outside was a welcome one. The corvette had crash-landed at the base of one of the mountains within the range. They just so happened to have also stopped within the wide and grassy expanse of the valley that ran between the mountains. Past the spacious fields of wreckage that had spread out from the ship, Duncan made out the greenery of the valley floor. Farther away, it soon became a mass of forestry in tandem with the gentle rise of the neighboring mountains.

Hundreds of ODSTs were already traversing the debris field. They treaded through the labyrinth of burning and smoldering wreckage, the biggest and most immediate of which were the ruins of the selvage rim. The giant hull extension had broken up in many sections but was otherwise the most intact part of the corvette. It formed a long ring around the vessel that burned in some places and sparked in others. Those outside had found a way past it in the form of a giant breach that halved the rim in two. Troopers strode, sprinted, hobbled or were helped through the chasm as well as the last field of wreckage on the other side. Like ants, they formed a stochastic line that trickled across the valley floor, up the rising slopes and into the forest.

As the group negotiated their steps towards the main bay area, Duncan spotted a squad that had stayed behind near the portside door. He recognized Whiskey thanks to the still dust-soaked armor of their two snipers. Mackley and Lang had recovered enough to hold weapons again, although both now held needle rifles to replace their lost pieces.

Dalton sighted them as well and waved to them. "Over here, Epsilon."

The group moved towards them. However, the slanted nature of the space made crossing over to them a hand-to-floor affair. They walked, slid and grasped their way to Whiskey, eventually joining them at the lip of the bay door.

"Good to see you made it." Dalton said as he shook hands with the Staff. "We were worried how you might've fared after the ship went belly up."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't easy." The Staff replied. "How'd you manage here?"

"We got thrown around a lot. We didn't have it too bad though. Other squads got it worse." He nodded to a group of ODSTs who were carrying several troopers outside, none of which moved on their own. "A couple guys took bad falls. A few even got crushed when some of the Seraphs and Banshees decided to come loose. It wasn't pretty."

Duncan looked back up to the ceiling of the bay where he expected the spacecraft to be. Only a handful were left clinging to their moorings like bats hanging from a cave. The same went for the Banshees, half of which remained in their housing stations high up in the walls. Everything that had fallen free had gathered to form a wall of damaged vehicles, lost components and Covenant corpses just outside the bay door. Luckily, the blockade had enough gaps in it to serve more like a fence than a wall.

"There's no telling how stable this ship is going to be or for how long." The Staff said. "Let's get going before there's more casualties."

There were no debates to be had there, not when everyone was quietly happy to leave the ship. The same ship that had been a death trap since before they even landed on the hull would remain so upon their departure.

Thanks to the lean of the corvette, there wasn't much of a drop to the ground. The platoon and the last of those to leave leapt down from metal floor to green grass. The transition was roughest for Duncan but also the most satisfying. The relief of knowing he was out of the ship was instantaneous. Now all that remained was to get out of any potential blast radius.

They flowed through the blockade of Seraphs and Banshees to reach the carpet of rubble between them and the selvage rim. They slipped through the gap in the rim with no issue and started clearing the last sprawl of debris that lay before the western mountains.

While trying not to trip over dead Grunts and Elites, Duncan peered back at the corvette.

It had survived the crash albeit in tatters. Fires raged over much of it, especially those parts where hard impacts had cracked open the hull, bleeding out flammable coolant that pooled into small lakes of sapphire flames. The bow was so horribly battered that it looked as if a giant had punched it in the nose, making him question how anyone had survived on the bridge. That wasn't to mention that at least a third of the ship was simply missing. What had once been the stern was spread out over a four-kilometer-long scar across the surface of Reach, a scar that had maimed the face of one of the eastern mountains further to their south. Not even the base of the one they'd ultimately landed on was spared. Its forested slopes were ploughed through, leaving in the ship's wake a chasm of exposed roots, decapitated trees and scorched bark.

The whole thing was beginning to remind him far too much of that op on Osiris-7. Out of paranoia, he wondered if the AI, Mr. Green, had played some part in the corvette's demise.

"How are we even still alive right now?" He thought aloud.

"No idea." Hector answered as he walked in beside him. "That's not to say that everyone else did though. Need some help with him?"

Duncan checked on Al whose face was so pale that he almost thought he was dead. A few faint breaths let him know that he was still hanging in there.

"No worries, I can carry him."

"It's a long way to the rendezvous point, man. I don't know if you can make that as you are."

Duncan turned back to where the others were headed. The trail of ODSTs was leading up the closest mountain to the west. There was a Nav point planted on its face, specifically on a natural plateau some 300-meters further up.

"I'm not going to the RP just yet." He replied.

"Then where're you headed?"

"Somewhere I can talk." He gestured to Al.

Hector was quick to catch on and said nothing more, instead following him the rest of the way to the tree line. Renni and Rico were the only ones waiting for them there. The two didn't bat an eye or say a word when Duncan entered the shade of the trees and went off in a different direction than everyone else. They followed him instead, joining him for a 200-meter climb that ended at a small clearing on the slopes. The open patch of grass offered a near panoramic view of the valley below. It also allowed them to see beyond the eastern mountains to the expanse of land just before Big Crater Bay. Szeged was there, only a 20-kilometer trek from where the corvette had crashed. The town still had pillars of smoke rising high into the sky. However, the sounds of battle were sparse as they echoed into the mountain range.

Duncan laid Al on the grass for Renni to check his vitals again.

Finishing, she got up with a sigh. "A few minutes, that's all you'll get."

Duncan nodded.

Renni left to join Hector and Rico who had established a watch near the trees. Duncan meanwhile took off his helmet and sat down next to Al.

Neither spoke.

The fiery eye of Epsilon Eridani stared back at them from over the sparkling horizon of the bay. The early morning wind whispered through the canopy as if the mountain was taking counsel with itself. Their surroundings seemed to quietly consider the plight that had been brought to their home and the burning wreck that had been laid at their feet.

Then, despite the dried blood that threatened to seal it shut, Al's mouth cracked open. His voice croaked out in a low rasp.

"Why did you...save me?"

Duncan met his eyes for a second then turned back to the strange beauty and terror of the scenery. "I didn't. You're still dying. I just moved you."

"...Why'd you move me?"

"Forgot already? Like I said, I didn't want to see you burn."

Al considered it for a moment and the two were again left in silence.

"I still...hate you." Al finally said. "I hate your guts, Duncan. "

"I know."

"But...thanks."

Duncan glanced at him and, if only for a split-second, caught a glimmer of the kid he used to know. He patted him on the shoulder. Again, a brief and hesitant silence.

Al settled his head into the grass like it was a pillow. His eyes began to shut, shoot open then shut again like he was fighting sleep. Except it wasn't sleep.

"Why were you here, Al?" Duncan asked in an effort to keep him awake.

It worked.

Al raised his head to talk. "I already told you. Reach is...UNSC paydirt. There's no better place...to raise hell. With you asking, I guess...you have a hard time making peace with that. After all that, you hate my guts too, right? Right?"

"No." Duncan said, shaking his head. He hesitated. "...I just feel sorry for you."

Al's eyes widened though he remained quiet.

"They were your friends, right? Quinn, Haskin, Palakiko, they were like family to you, not the best of people but not the worst either. They were all you had...and now you don't have them anymore. I get that." Duncan looked to the smoking corvette and deliberately kept his voice at a calm tenor. "What I don't get is why you never tried to find that again. Why didn't you just keep your head down and try to find where else you fit in? We would never have caught you. You would never have wound up here."

Al grimaced at him, if the weak flexing of his face could still be called a grimace. "Are you criticizing me?"

"No. I think you and I both know you're too far past that point. I'm just trying to understand why you never tried anything else. You were out here for years. You told me you lost all you had with the AMADDS but that wasn't true. What about the family you said you had on Sigma? You could've started over; you could've disappeared but instead-...instead..."

Duncan sucked in a shaky breath and laid his head in his hands. He could feel Al staring at him until he started coughing again. No blood came up this time though his breathing became more of a long, drawn-out wheeze.

"You want to know what happened...after Kholo?"

The question triggered Duncan's interests right away. Memories of his last visit from O'Reilly made him curious.

"What happened?"

"After you screwed...everything up, we managed to get to the Mayweather, remember her, our old ship? Well, we left the system and...stayed on the run for...a while, debating what to do next. Riley..."

Duncan's eye twitched. "What about Riley?"

"He wanted to...come here and find you and...get even. He really wanted to, but Stewards warned him against it. I did too...for all the good it did. He wasn't having any of it...so...we dropped him off in-system. Never heard from him after that. You're still here so...I guess he changed his mind."

Duncan kept quiet.

"As for me...I ended up going off on my own a little while after Riley. I came here...looking for him and hoping...he could help me with sticking it to Reach. Ended up having to do it without him."

"And Stewards?"

Al raised a weak smile. "The captain? What...about him?"

"Where is he now?"

Somehow, Al had enough strength for a mild shake of his head. "Haven't seen him...in years." He managed to grin. "Why, you worried?"

"...Yes. He's one loose end we never tied up."

"Rest assured, he's out there. If I know him...he's up to something, God knows what." Al stopped to pull in a few sharp and pained breaths. "You brought me here to...die, didn't you?"

Duncan didn't give an answer. He knew he didn't need to.

Al cracked his hazing eyes open to lock him with a gaze bordering on sorrow. "Can I ask...something?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you know...what happened to Riley? Did you ever see him?"

Something like an invisible hand gripped Duncan's heart. It squeezed and refused to let go. He felt his stomach burning him from the inside out. The faint sense of desperate pleading behind Al's stare made it so much worse. At length, his will won out against his warring conscience. He shook his head.

"No."

Al's worried demeanor dissolved behind a look of barely hidden relief. He nodded and laid his head back down on the grass.

"Good...good. He might've made it then...that's good. At least one of us should." Al's breathing quickened as he looked at him again, this time with his eyes already glazed over. The first tear slipped out before he said what was on his mind.

"Hey Duncan?"

"Yeah?"

"You talked about my...aunt and uncle on Sigma, the ones I told you about. You think-...do you think maybe they survived all that?"

"Maybe." He said solemnly.

Al's sniffling rose and Duncan found that he could no longer bear to watch. He had to turn away from him, choosing instead to look straight ahead at the valley.

"Hey Duncan?"

"Yeah?"

"You think if I went back-...if I went back, they'd...be happy to see me? After everything?"

"...Maybe."

The sniffling slowed and ebbed.

"Hey...Duncan? Think maybe...you could..."

"Yeah?"

But there was no reply.

The wind picked up again. Duncan felt it rustle through his hair as it did the leaves of every tree. He sat there for a while waiting. Waiting for what, he thought? The strength to turn around maybe?

He gained it and willed himself to see.

Al was still looking at him as if he were trying to talk to him. His mouth was frozen open as if he still had something to say. The wind was rustling his eyelashes and drying the last tears that had escaped. By the expression on his face, the question he wanted to ask was still there, but Al wasn't.

Duncan reached over and shut his eyes for him. He grabbed his shoulder and shook it comfortingly one last time.

The conflict was immediate. He balanced on a knife's edge of not knowing whether to weep or be satisfied. He couldn't tell whether it would be for a monster or a man. He couldn't figure out whether he was only a menace that had gotten thousands killed or just some lost kid like the ones he'd spoken of. Just some kid that had run away from home and made all the wrong connections in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. Perhaps both.

Mourn or find satisfaction, in the end he did neither.

He let Al go and stood back up, staring down at the body of what he ultimately considered an old friend, menace and all.

Hector came up beside him to see as well. "Why'd you lie to him?"

"About what?"

"O'Reilly."

Duncan examined the sadness on Al's face and wondered if it had been hidden there when he'd gotten stabbed. That twisting feeling in his gut came back. He breathed in and exhaled the truth.

"I figured he's lost enough friends already."

"...I see."

Duncan turned to him earnestly. "Would you have told him?"

Hector spared a merciful glance at the body but said nothing.

Renni walked up behind them. "It's time to go. Ep-1's asking us where we're at."

"Did our birds arrive yet?" Rico asked.

"No but they'll be here soon. Most of them are busy picking up everybody who didn't stick the landing further south. They'll be here any minute though." She pointed to the body. "Who's carrying him?"

Duncan raised his hand. "I'll-"

Hector put his hand back down. "No, you won't. Like I said, you're busted as it is. If you take him any further, you'll tear something."

"I think I already did." Duncan groaned.

"Which is why I'll handle it." Without further debate, Hector took Al's body and laid it carefully over his shoulder before giving them the thumbs up.

"Alright then mis hermanos," Rico said as he hustled past. "Let's split."

Rico took the lead. Duncan and Renni jogged after him with Hector on their heels, carrying Al with them up the slope.

:********:

The Staff scanned the vast tracts of the plateau for signs of the rest of Epsilon. There was none to be found yet but the plateau was filled with plenty of ODSTs from other squads, platoons and companies. The colonel had established the area as a casualty collection point for Alpha and Bravo Company. Dozens of small tents were set up to treat those in more immediate need of attention from the company medics. Others whose needs weren't as pressing were laid on the grass. They were tended to and watched over by their comrades who implored whatever basic first aid was required, applying tourniquets and biofoam injections where necessary.

There were others who needed no care at all. They were busy forging a layered perimeter around the plateau and the surrounding trees. Squads were patrolling the natural pathways that crisscrossed the area. More still were clearing certain spots to act as landing zones for the inbound dropships.

There were others as well who required no aid beyond that of someone placing them on the grass and covering them. The Staff counted over 30 body bags set at the center of the plateau. In rows of 10 each, the BDUs of those inside created bumpy dimensions in the fabrics, causing them to wave a lot more in the breeze than they should. Several troopers moved between the rows like farmhands in a field. They reaped a harvest of dog tags, munitions and personal belongings from the dead before zipping their pale faces away within the darkness of the bags.

The Staff grimaced at the scene. What made matters worse was that because of the elevation of the plateau, he got a good look at the burning corvette. It was just across the valley from them. His point of view caused him to see the flaming wreck behind the boots of the assembled dead. It brought with it a surreal feeling that he was quick to turn away from. He already had enough bad memories to wake him up at odd hours of the night. This was one he didn't want to add to the list.

He turned to Zack who was crouched to the ground, having taken his radio off his back to inspect it directly.

"Are they close yet?"

Zack shrugged. "Not sure. The corvette's releasing some extra crazy amounts of EM waves right now. I guess the fires are starting to chew through its communications systems. Either way, it's playing hell with my long-distance comms. If it helps, last I heard, they were only a few minutes away."

"Alright, tell me when you get in touch."

"Copy that."

The Staff made the mistake of looking again at the bodies. The thought crossed his mind that there were far more casualties than these alone. There were likely others left on the corvette who were unrecoverable or others who had met their deaths on its energy shields. Even then, there were still more missing across the mountains who might very well stay that way.

A heaviness clung to the atmosphere across the plateau. There was barely any conversation, merely the howls of the regional gale that raced south through the range.

"Think it was worth it, sir?" Yuri asked.

The Staff was aware that the rest of 1st Platoon was standing and sitting at his back but refused to look them in the eyes. He didn't have the fortitude for it. He kept staring at the ship, the operation's lost prize.

"Sir?" Nova called, hoping for an answer to Yuri's question just like everyone else seemed to be.

"No matter what, we still won." The Staff replied. "Even if we didn't take it, that's one less ship we'll have to worry about glassing us from orbit later. Either way, we won."

No one said anything for a while. Whether they believed what he said or not, the Staff couldn't tell. He couldn't tell if even he believed it himself.

"One less ship..." Mito thought aloud, saying it without any kind of satisfaction.

Everything went quiet after that as Epsilon and Whiskey stared at the valley. An air of disillusion was palpable as the corvette continued to burn. The only reprieve from the deafening silence emanated from the random sounds of fighting that came from Szeged. Within his own thoughts, the Staff hoped that at least Charlie, Delta and Echo had fared better than they had.

The stifling stillness was interrupted by fast footsteps. The platoon's attention turned to several troopers who had rushed to the different landing zones across the plateau. They each whipped out smoke grenades and tossed them into the middle of the LZs. Red smoke hissed out from them and created crimson clouds that marked them out from the rest of the mountainside.

The shrill cry of hybrid fusion drives turned their attention skyward. A squadron of four Pelican dropships appeared, flying around a set of mountain peaks further south. They crossed the range, their shadows passing over the valley as they grew larger and closer. The aircraft slowed upon approaching the plateau and descended to the landing zones, sending pulses of wind flooding over the ODSTs.

The second they landed and their hangar bays fell open, scores of Marines stormed out. They were mainly corpsmen that beelined for the medical tents. They went inside and reemerged shortly afterwards with stretcher bound ODSTs, helping their comrades carry the most critical patients into the Pelicans.

"Looks like we're going to be here for a while." Mackley groaned.

"Medevac takes priority, trooper." Dalton scolded. "You'll get your chance, just keep it zipped until then."

"Hey, I think I see them." Mito said, pointing everyone else back towards the eastward end of the plateau. There on the edge of the perimeter Rico slipped out from the tree line. Duncan and Renni came next with Hector carrying both the rear as well as another person. The mercenary was draped over his shoulder, noticeably less alive than the last time they had seen him.

The Staff's relief turned to suspicion. He wanted to ask them what they'd been up to when the four troopers and everything else disappeared in a flash of light. His stinging eyes were the least of his worries as a shockwave of air struck him like a giant fist. He fell over, crashing into someone before tumbling across the ground.

Then the light dimmed just as quickly as it came.

Dazed, he picked himself back up to see what had happened. Across the plateau, everyone else who had been tossed around also got back on their feet. Some of the medical tents had collapsed and ODSTs and Marines were struggling to set them back up again. A few of the occupied body bags had been tossed out of alignment with the rest. Troopers tried to put them back where they belonged as they searched for the cause of their trouble.

The Staff's relief came rushing back to him once he saw Duncan and the others getting back on their feet. However, he looked past them and saw that a mist of leaves and broken branches were raining down over the plateau. Many of the surrounding trees were dented backwards at a slight angle, leaning away from the valley. Beyond them lay the source of the sudden change.

Where the corvette had crashed there was now a fiery crater. What remained of the wreckage was blown across the valley with larger pieces catapulted into the mountains, crashing down into the forests in clouds of smoke. Flaming debris precipitated from the sky and landed across the mountain range, a final farewell from the enemy vessel.

The Staff wondered if every ODST that could had actually gotten off the corvette in time. Despite how many had come to the rendezvous point, he doubted it.

:********:

From 500-meters further up the mountain Colonel Garrison watched the corvette explode. He was winded by the shockwave and momentarily blinded by the blast. He would have been permanently blind were it not for his visor. It had likely saved him from losing his eyes altogether.

When the light faded, he saw the crater left in the ship's wake. The sight of it made him sit down as he ripped off his helmet and cast it to the ground.

From where he was atop one of the many cliff-faces of the mountain, he could see everyone else on the plateau below. They were picking themselves up from the blast. With the dropships still in one piece and everyone else only rattled, he allowed himself the chance to sit at the very edge and stay there.

He had stolen away from the plateau shortly after the arrival of the first platoons. He had hoped to have at least a minute to himself. He wanted to sort out his own thoughts before he fell into what was likely to be an absolute maelstrom of a debriefing.

What would General Montague have to say?

What about Brigadier General Abajjé?

Had Taylors and his 22nd Battalion fared any better with their own corvette further south?

The questions, however, clung to the very back of his considerations. In their place, the memory of the explosion and everything that came before it looped in his mind.

The dozens that died on the drop, their HEVs obliterated by the energy shields.

The dozens whose pods bounced off the hull, their drag chutes snapping and braking rockets failing so that they plummeted to their deaths.

The dozens that died fighting in the ship's interior, heads blown off, bodies destroyed, faces burned beyond even basic recognition as human.

His view of the burning crater hazed over. He felt a few rogue tears escape his restraint. The sobs came out of his throat and soon overtook him. He planted his face into his gloved hand in the hopes that his cries wouldn't echo down the mountainside.

He gritted his teeth in anger, not at the situation but at himself. He hated that he felt relieved, relieved that those troopers who'd died had done so without ever knowing that all their sacrifices had amounted to one big, smoking crater in the middle of nowhere.

And it was his fault.

He'd always done his best to lead from the front and knew what it felt like to lead men to their deaths. This was different. This time he'd done so despite sensing in the back of his mind that something was off. From the very start he harbored doubts about the mission. From the beginning it was hard to see how the operation would ever turn out well for them. He went along with it anyways. He didn't voice those doubts to his superiors because he believed his troopers might be able to handle it. That overestimation on his part had cost them.

Without any say on their part, the engines of the corvette had gone off with a bang. Taking the communications center, the hangar, the battery and even the bridge hadn't helped. At the end of the day the enemy was one step ahead of them. One step was enough.

Now he was sitting on an operational death rate that he hadn't seen since Ballast. Of the 500 ODSTs that had deployed with him from both Alpha and Bravo companies, he estimated that at least one in every five of them were dead. That wasn't to say anything of the wounded or the missing that had miss-dropped tens of kilometers further south. The devastation didn't rival those losses taken by Delta on Ballast, but it still worried him that this mission had even come close.

For the miss-drops he had managed to get in contact with many of the NCOs among them. They were currently assembling their people to make it easier for exfiltration craft to find and recover them. The numbers of lost who were reportedly found was hopeful but not calming. By comparison, Alpha and Bravo's three sister companies had had a much easier time with Szeged. According to reports from their company commanders, taking the town had inflicted minimal casualties across the board. Were that it had been the same here.

Szeged belonged once again to the UNSC, but he was beginning to sense that Reach was going to be an entirely different affair.

His sobbing eventually finished and all that remained was a simmering pain. He ignored the last bit of tightness in his chest and wiped his face clean. He forced himself back to his feet, slipped on his helmet and walked off as if nothing had happened. He was still colonel after all and there was still work to do.

He left the cliff and started back down the mountain, moving through the trees with steps that never betrayed the emotions raging behind his visor. He purposed to leave it so. What his troopers needed now was strength and direction and he had no intention of giving them any less than what they needed.

He was 100-meters from the plateau when a trio of ODSTs came within sight, one of them armed with a back-mounted radio. They were hurrying up the mountainside. The way they sprinted up the incline made him think something was chasing after them and a hand instinctually fell to his pistol. Upon spotting him they immediately picked up the pace. The three didn't stop until they were right in front of him, pausing only to catch their breath.

"What is it, troopers?" Garrison asked.

"We...came to find you, sir." One of them said. "You were out of radio range, so our CO sent us up here to look for you."

The radioman stepped forward and saluted. What lay behind his depolarized visor struck the colonel right away: a look of pure terror.

"News just came in from the main assault at Szurdok Ridge, sir." He said exasperatedly. "It's bad, real bad."

Naufragium - Shipwreck