A9 to C9
(Alpha Nine to Copper Nine)
Chapter 6: Unknown City Streets II
UNSC Lance Corporal Jonathan 'Rookie' Doeherty,
Unknown City, Unknown Planet
6 Hours After Drop
Rotating the bisected SPNKr launcher in his hands, the Rookie gave it an experimental shake. A soft rattle of snow dislodged from the launcher's twin tubes, the only sign that it had been exposed to the elements for far too long. No ammo, no answers. He cursed under his breath, scanning the surroundings. The trail was cold, leading him to the edge of a partially collapsed building, nothing promising, just more debris.
His VISR flickered as yet another waypoint lit up, a cold beacon against the backdrop of the storm-torn landscape. Objective after objective, none of them bringing him any closer to figuring out what had happened to his squad, or where exactly he even was. He slapped the side of his helmet in frustration, as if the tech might be glitching due to the relentless snowstorm. The icy wind was picking up, and the hospital, which had seen battle not long ago, was rapidly being swallowed by fresh layers of snow. The Rookie glanced at the eerie, quiet expanse. Time wasn't on his side.
With no other choice, he clambered down from the wreckage of the balcony, boots crunching against the snow as he followed the waypoint toward the side of the hospital. He soon found himself standing before a long stone porch that stretched around the building, leading toward its back. The atmosphere shifted. The wind, once a constant howl, now carried a soft, distant murmur, like voices whispering just out of reach. A thick fog had begun to curl around the far end of the hall, obscuring his view.
The Rookie paused, unease prickling at the back of his neck. The hallway before him seemed to breathe, the fog curling lazily as if inviting him forward into its unknown depths. He stood there for a moment, staring down the length of the side hall, a strange dread creeping over him. Something about the stillness, the way the shadows danced in the storm's light, felt familiar, like an old, half-forgotten memory.
A fragment of a poem he'd once read as a child surfaced in his mind:
"Deep into that darkness peering, I stood there long, wondering, fearing..."
The words hung in the cold air, fitting perfectly with the oppressive silence. He shook it off, tightening his grip on his weapon, and started forward, hoping, praying, that this waypoint might finally lead him to some answers.
Venturing deeper into the fog, the Rookie's thoughts began to drift. His squad, where were they? Each step felt as though it pushed him further away from certainty, into an endless expanse of doubt. The only clues he found, bottles cast into some unknown sea of chaos. Were they from the living or the dead? He couldn't tell anymore.
The hospital's shadow fell behind him as the fog thickened, revealing a buried highway, the remnants of a once-bustling artery of the city now frozen in time. Wreckage lay strewn across the lanes, vehicles crushed and twisted under the weight of war. This highway seemed to offer a path toward the waypoint, but even that beacon felt distant, like a promise barely out of reach.
Crouching low behind the decaying cars, the Rookie pushed forward. The storm had swallowed the world, reducing his vision to only a few feet ahead. Every muffled sound felt like a threat lurking in the white abyss, every gust of wind carried whispers of distant battle. With each careful step, the silence grew heavier, yet the mission demanded that he press on, through the snow, through the storm, through the fear clawing at his mind.
After what felt like an eternity trudging through the ninth circle of frost and ruin, the Rookie noticed the highway sloping downward, the incline steep enough to send a shiver of instinctual caution through him. The snowfall, relentless as ever, softened the world to a blanket of eerie quiet.
"Are your thermals just... not working either?"
The voice, disembodied and sudden, sent a jolt through the Rookie's system. He froze mid-step, immediately crouching into a firing stance, every nerve alight. His eyes scanned the haze for the source, the M7 steady in his hands. Slowly, he zeroed in on two figures standing a few meters ahead, their outlines hazy through the fog. Pawns, probably conscripts, judging by their careless posture.
"Is this your way of flirting with me again, Daryl? Because I already said I'm not interested." The second voice, distinctly female, cut through the snow-laden air, its tone flat with exasperation.
The Rookie crept closer, inch by inch, boots crunching softly against the iced-over asphalt. His eyes darted between the Pawns and his surroundings, checking for an ambush. His radials remained clear, but his instincts kept him wary.
"Wha-,No! No, I'm just asking, my thermal-vision-thingy... in my head, it won't turn on," Daryl muttered, tapping the side of his helmet with a sheepish grin. His colleague's sigh was audible even through the muffling storm.
"Conscripts don't 'get' thermal modules, Daryl. They're expensive. And we don't need bots like you losing them," she shot back, her tone sharp. "I have one because I didn't just join the Order for a place to recharge and hit on people. Unlike some I know."
Daryl stammered, trying to come up with a defense, while the Rookie silently vaulted over the hood of a nearby car, positioning himself for a clearer line of fire. The Pawns were oblivious, too caught up in their argument to notice him closing in. But the Rookie's senses were on high alert, ears straining for any hint of reinforcements, eyes scanning for any unexpected movement through the storm-shrouded wreckage.
This close, the two Pawns were vulnerable, easy targets. But the Rookie knew better than to assume he was alone out here. He tightened his grip on the M7, muscles coiled, waiting for the perfect moment.
"I-I didn't enlist just for that," Daryl stammered, his voice faltering. "I mean... it was a pretty big part of it, sure, but not all of it. I also really hate humans." He paused, fidgeting with the sights on his rifle, as if unsure of himself. "Even though... I've never actually seen one before. Have you?"
His squadmate turned, eyes narrowing, visibly offended. "O-Of course I've seen them!" she sputtered. "I've been on colony sweeps plenty of times." She shifted her weight, her posture growing defensive. "They're uh... taller than us. They wear clothes like us. And they've got this equipment hooked to their mouths. If they don't, they can't breathe."
Daryl's head tilted slightly as he fiddled more with his weapon, processing her words. "They can't breathe the planet's air?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Well, yes and no," she replied, her tone dripping with disdain. "Apparently, it's 'too cold' for their fragile lungs." Her voice took on a mocking edge. "Like they're so delicate, they need special gear just to stay alive out here."
Daryl let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fragile, huh? Makes you wonder how they even survive at all."
"That and the fact that our usual doctrine for assaulting their colonies is to deploy chemical mortars first. And...well, they can't breathe those either. Seriously, humans are fragile, dude. I'm more worried about the Sky Demons than anything. Humans are pushovers. But...yes, I have thermal vision. Let me see..."
Activating her thermal module, Daryl's teammate only had a mere second to see the shape of the Rookie appear among the fog before a silenced M7 shot ripped straight through her head, leaving a cracked hole where her face-screen was. Daryl began to panic instantly. Rookie, intending on taking him down with a follow up shot, was alarmed when his M7 jammed. Quickly, he dashed towards Daryl with his knife drawn and tackled the Pawn to the ground, slamming his hand over the Pawn's mouth to keep him quiet.
"I-Ill tell you anything! Just wait a second! Wait a second! Please!" Daryl begged, struggling to get the Rookie off of him, but even with him being a machine, he was still far too weak to push the ODST off. The Rookie took a cursory look around the guard post to make sure absolutely no one else was watching. Looking at Daryl, The Rookie motioned with his M7 for Daryl to march back up the highway to a more secluded location. In which the Pawn surprisingly enough accepted. Finding a ruined bus on the highway, the Rookie had Daryl sitting on the floor, while Rookie kept his gun trained on him. He gestured for him to begin talking.
"L-Look, I don't know how much of that conversation you heard back there. B-But. I have a secret. Number one, that girl was cute. You're a massive buzzkill for shooting her. Number two. I didn't actually join the Order for ANY of that stuff she mentioned. I'm a spy. That's my job . I suppose me telling you this makes me a bad spy. But...you're clearly a human. And only a human out of their gourd would actually help the Order. Unless the Order's been giving out really advanced armor to their slaves..."
The Rookie was floored by just how candid Daryl was being. He had expected to get answers through force or intimidation, maybe some 'percussive maintenance' on Daryl's head, but no. This bot seemed ready and willing to spill everything. The Rookie motioned for him to continue.
"You're... really quiet, huh?" Daryl hesitated, but when the Rookie gave no response, he pressed on. "A-Anyway... I'm a spy for the Shepherd's Accord. They sent me here to gather intel on the Order's forces operating in this sector of the city. Most of their troops are just Worker Drones they conscripted from the Outlands. They're a far cry from the soldiers that the Order stations in their home territories. A-Actually, they just flipped a big colony not far from here. The name's lost on me, something in Russian... rural bots, but tough. There's a reason they've survived this long."
Daryl squinted at the Rookie's armor, his eyes tracing the advanced tech as he let out a low whistle. "Huh. That's some fancy gear you've got there. Are...you from JCJenson?"
The Rookie shook his head, still keeping his silence. Daryl's face twisted in confusion, unsure why the Rookie was so tight-lipped.
"Well, whoever you are," Daryl continued, "-you've really stirred up the hornet's nest tonight. The battlenet's been lit up for the last seven hours. The Order's advance into the city has been completely halted." Daryl's voice took on a more serious tone, betraying a hint of relief.
"Which buys the Accord some precious time... time to figure out what to do next. Wherever you came from, I'm sorry to tell you that you're not safer here. Especially as a human." Daryl slowly rose to his feet, his arms raised where the Rookie could see them.
"Listen," Daryl started, his tone careful, "you seem like a busy guy. I'm also a very busy guy. I've got a mission to fulfill. You-" he gestured between himself and the Rookie "-also have a mission to fulfill."
Daryl paused for effect, trying to make his words land. "That being said, I think we can help each other out. But... I'm gonna need a little bit of trust from you, which I know is hard to ask considering all my kind has done is try to kill you all night."
The Rookie gave a short nod, the faintest acknowledgment, urging Daryl to get to the point.
"I need you to let me take you back to the outpost... as a prisoner."
Before the Rookie could react, Daryl quickly raised his hands in a halting gesture.
"Now! I know how that sounds counterintuitive right? But the Order is getting suspicious of me. They're watching every new Worker Drone that shows up at their gates. If I can bring you in... as my prisoner... and prove myself to Lieutenant Rossa,"
He trailed off, waving his metallic hands in a vague circular motion, trying to emphasize the potential outcome. The Rookie, however, raised a hand, silently indicating he understood where Daryl was going with this plan of his.
"-I can make it worth your while. Believe me. I can set you up within the Accord's system to ensure none of our patrols bother you out in the field. And who knows, maybe you'll need some help from us too, but don't expect us to be there all the time. Alongside that. I know of a weapons cache not far from here that we've been smuggling weapons from the Order out of. So I'm sure no one would notice if some ammunition and maybe a weapon is misplaced out there."
The Rookie weighed his options, realistically, he could always just reject Daryl's offer and be on his merry way, but then again, that wasn't exactly going to get him one step closer to finding his squad or re establishing contact with the UNSC's central command. That, and he wasn't really in the mood of making enemies with the Accord either. Knowing now that there were 'Worker Drones' that didn't want him dead on contact at least increased his chances of survival by some metric. With that, the Rookie gave a thumbs up, much to Daryl's delight.
Having been led through the base by Daryl, the Rookie was stripped of his weapons but still allowed to keep his ODST armor, necessary for his survival in these conditions. As they entered a large underground area, it became clear that this was once a leisure district, perhaps a resort or shopping center in its prime. Now, however, it has been repurposed as a Forward Operating Base (FOB) for the Order. The scene was a peculiar mixture of the ordinary and the bizarre, Pawns and Enforcers moving about like soldiers on a standard military base, yet the architecture spoke to its former civilian purpose.
The complex stretched upwards in tiered levels, with catwalks and staircases leading to various sections, but what caught the Rookie's attention most was the large, gaping hole at the center of the base. It burrowed deep into the planet, far beyond the foundation of the base, as though the ground itself had been torn away to reveal something hidden.
Daryl led the Rookie toward a fortified building that appeared to have once been a spa, now transformed into a command center. Two Pawns stood guard at the entrance, their postures stiff as Daryl approached with his "prisoner."
"What's your business here? Especially with that human?" one of the guards, a male drone, asked, his tone suspicious.
Daryl gave the Rookie a shove, though his weak arms made it more of an awkward nudge. "I captured this one near Checkpoint Dracula. He killed the other guard on station. I need to report this to Lieutenant Rossa."
The guards exchanged a look, and the male drone responded with a faint nod. "Oh, right. I remember her... Yeah."
"Mhmm," his female counterpart added. "She was cute. That's sad."
The male guard nodded in agreement, but then a flicker of confusion crossed his LED eyes, and he turned to her, his head tilted slightly. "Wait, she's what?"
The female drone's LED eyes flickered into unfilled ovals, clearly flustered. She quickly cleared her "throat" in embarrassment. "Y-Yeah! Go right in!" Both guards stepped aside, allowing Daryl to lead the Rookie inside.
"Thank you. Good day," Daryl replied, trying a bit too hard to sound formal as he entered the command center. Behind them, the Rookie could hear the male guard mumbling in a hurt tone, "But I thought you said I was cute…"
Inside the command post, the atmosphere shifted from the peculiar humor of the guards to the more serious military ambiance. Various computers and machinery hummed away, powering the facility. Maps of the surrounding areas were pinned to the walls, some yellowed with age and frayed at the edges. The most prominent map, however, caught the Rookie's eye, a layout of the entire complex, with the bold heading: Maya Resort and Mall. The map confirmed that this place had once been a luxury getaway, but now, it was a far cry from its former glory.
Daryl led the Rookie deeper into the command center, and the tension in the air grew thicker with each step. Faintly, a voice could be heard in the next room.
"I am acutely aware of your battalion's lack of resources, Lieutenant Colonel, but our current tactical situation demands you secure your sector immediately. We have units stalled in the north because of your battalion's... shortcomings." The voice was thick with a Southern drawl, its irritation clearly audible from the nearby room.
Daryl shoved the Rookie forward, guiding him into the room where the conversation was taking place. At the center stood a table, its surface dominated by a holographic map that appeared to display the city. Leaning over it was a figure the Rookie recognized as an Enforcer, though her uniform was far more refined than the typical soldier's gear. A red beret adorned her head, and a pair of piercing orange eyes locked onto Daryl as soon as he entered, sharp enough to slice through steel.
"Lieutenant Colonel Rossa," Daryl began, his tone stiff and formal, "I've captured a human that assaulted Checkpoint Dracula. He killed my guardmate, however."
Lt. Rossa turned slowly to face him, her expression sour and impatient. Her gaze briefly flicked to the Rookie, and her features twisted further into a look of disgust, like someone spotting a cockroach scurrying across their pristine floor.
"Oh. Yes. Unfortunate," Rossa said with the kind of detachment reserved for trivial inconveniences. "She was cute."
Her tone was sharp, cutting off any potential sympathy. Then, without missing a beat, her focus snapped back to Daryl, venom in her voice. "I didn't give you permission to barge in here unannounced, conscript."
Her shift from somber to furious was immediate, her eyes flashing with indignation as if Daryl's mere presence was an insult.
"Is there an issue, Lt. Colonel?"
The voice from earlier echoed once more, revealing itself as a hologram of a Worker Drone, stepping from behind Lt. Col Rossa to get a better view. This new figure was dressed in what resembled an officer's trench coat with fur lining along the collar; a sort of cowboy hat with a military officer's symbol pinned at the center was resting atop his bald head. Unlike the drones the Rookie had encountered before, this one had an unusual detail, faint wrinkles surrounding his LED 'eyes,' giving him a weathered, almost human-like appearance. His expression, however, was one of utter boredom.
Lt. Col Rossa stiffened, biting her lip before snapping to attention. "N-No, Grand Marshal Faulkner, of course not. Th-This conscript burst in unannounced, and I was just about to issue the appropriate punishment for his infractions, sir."
Faulkner clasped his hands behind his back, stepping closer toward Daryl and the Rookie. He first gave Daryl a quick once-over, but his gaze lingered on the Rookie, scrutinizing him.
"Hm," Faulkner mused, his voice low and contemplative. "Your armor looks... familiar. I take it you're part of the group that has been throwing a wrench in our operations all night, aren't you?"
He approached the Rookie, looking directly into his visor. Given Faulkner's short stature, the gesture wasn't exactly intimidating, but the prolonged stare carried an unsettling weight.
"I will admit, reinforcements from Earth? This soon? That's rather flattering." Faulkner's voice dripped with sarcasm, a mocking smile twisting his lips. "I figured the center of humanity would still be busy picking their teeth off the ground rather than sending an entire armed response to some backwater planet on the frontier!"
His tone rose with each word, swelling with amusement as if he had just delivered the punchline to a private joke. Then, a sharp bark of laughter escaped him, filling the room. Lt. Col. Rossa hesitated before joining in, her own laugh awkward and out of sync, more an effort to mirror her superior's mood than any genuine amusement. She shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what exactly Faulkner found so funny.
Faulkner's laughter died as quickly as it had begun. His face returned to its default state of detached boredom. His smile faded, shoulders slumping, and he sighed heavily, as though disappointed by her lackluster response. The room grew heavy with tension again.
After a pause, Faulkner straightened and addressed Lt. Col Rossa without turning.
"If this conscript managed to subdue a human and bring him in alive, it shows a remarkable degree of skill... and courage. It would be a waste to punish such a promising drone, wouldn't it, Lt. Colonel? We certainly don't want to encourage laziness among our ranks. And where would we be without a bit of initiative? Hmm? Hiding behind walls, playing cards all day long? Right, Lt. Colonel Rossa?" As Faulkner circled Daryl his words carried an air of finality. Lt. Rossa, who had been allowing herself to slump slightly, straightened once again under his scrutiny.
"U-Um... yes, Grand Marshal. Of course. I'll see to it that he's commended."
The hologram flickered for a moment, casting a cold, blue light over the room. Grand Marshal Faulkner stood, arms crossed behind his back, his expression as dull as ever despite the weight of his words. "Take that… interloper to the lower levels. Let's see if we can get better acquainted with each other down there. As for you, Lieutenant Colonel, I've redirected logistics to your sector. Expect them before morning. They'll check in with the passcode I provided. Refer to the revised operations sheet for further details."
Lt. Col. Rossa stiffened, lifting her fist to eye level in a rigid salute. "Affirmative, Grand Marshal."
Faulkner barely reacted, his return salute more of an afterthought. "Wonderful. Good night." His hologram flickered once more before vanishing completely, leaving the room heavy with tension.
Rossa let out a long breath, the tightness in her posture dissolving as soon as the Grand Marshal was gone. The room seemed to exhale with her, the tension thinning like mist. She turned back to Daryl, her expression still severe, but lacking the venom from earlier. Her gaze shifted to the Rookie, lingering on him with a look that bordered on disdain.
"Well," she said, her voice sharp but subdued, "it seems our Grand Marshal has a soft spot for you, conscript."
Daryl stood frozen, unsure whether to take her words as a compliment or a threat. Rossa's lips curled slightly, not in a smile, but in something closer to an annoyed sneer.
"Take him to the lower levels," she continued, pointing towards the nearby window, where the massive pit yawned like an open maw. "Submit him to the MPs there."
Daryl just stared, hesitant, his body language revealing his reluctance. Rossa's expression darkened with frustration, her patience fraying. She let out an irritated sigh, bending down slightly to meet Daryl's eye level. Without warning, she pinched the sides of his head, where cheeks might have been on a human, squeezing with enough force to make Daryl flinch.
"And…" Rossa's voice dripped with mockery as she jostled him around like a child, "I'll put in a recommendation for your promotion, because you've been such a good boy." Her tone was sickeningly sweet, every word laced with sarcasm and cruelty.
Daryl stiffened, awkwardly enduring the demeaning gesture. The Rookie, though silent, watched the scene unfold with a raised eyebrow behind his visor. Despite the glaring difference in species, both he and Daryl shared the same unspoken thought, reflected in the brief glance they exchanged: What the hell was that? Rossa released Daryl with a final shove, standing tall once more. "Now get out," she ordered, her voice cold again, waving dismissively towards the door. Daryl straightened himself, rubbing the side of his head and nodding quickly. "Of course. Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel."
He attempted a salute, his arm movements stiff and poorly executed. Rossa didn't bother to hide her disdain, returning the gesture with a half-hearted flick of her wrist, her eyes narrow with sardonic amusement. Without another word, Daryl grabbed the Rookie's arm and pulled him towards the exit. The door shut behind them with a heavy thud, the sound echoing in the hall as they made their way toward the pit. Neither of them spoke, the tension still hanging in the air between them, an unspoken understanding of just how precarious their situation had become. As the elevator descended, the hum of machinery faded into an eerie quiet. Daryl stood beside the Rookie, the soft creak of his armor the only sound as the platform slowly lowered them into the depths. What was once likely a nature reserve had transformed into a grim excavation site, its verdant past replaced by a graveyard of forgotten machines. Rusted and dormant, the equipment stood as hollow sentinels amidst the Worker Drones, who moved between the debris like ants, some garbed in mining gear, others donning the crisp uniforms of scientists. None seemed to pay the pair any mind, their focus entirely on the massive structure unearthed at the pit's bottom.
The first glimpse of the thing was unsettling. An enormous, unnatural wall of slate-gray metal emerged from the earth, its spires and outcroppings sharp and alien, almost as if it were some ancient beast lying dormant beneath the soil. The metal surface was scarred with glyphs and patterns, language perhaps, though none that either Daryl or the Rookie could comprehend. At the center loomed what could only be an entrance, a towering arrow-shaped door embedded into the wall. Three deep red lights pulsed ominously along its surface, their glow casting a faint crimson hue over the figures scurrying below. Windows, or what looked like windows, dotted the face of the door, though whatever lay beyond was lost to shadow. The air felt heavy, charged with a strange energy that pressed down on them as they neared.
A control panel stood before the door, surrounded by Worker Drones who tried, and failed, to make any headway. A holographic interface flickered above the panel, displaying a symbol, a circular figure, arms outstretched above its perfectly circular head. Any time a drone attempted to access the panel, the hologram would flash an angry red, halting their efforts. The frustration was palpable, though the drones carried on attempting to decipher the lock. It was then that the truth finally dawned on the Rookie as to just what this oddly familiar structure was. He had never seen one in person before, but he had read the briefings centered around the Pillar of Autumn's jump into the Soell system from Reach...and what they found on Installation 04, well the parts that weren't heavily redacted by ONI of course. This building was Forerunner. But how? If the people, well, bots here had never heard of the UNSC, or of the Covenant, and he had never heard of JCJenson. How then could the Forerunners exist here?
Daryl glanced at the Rookie, his voice low and tense. "I don't know what they're trying to do either. But from the chatter we've intercepted... this isn't the first facility the Order has found like this. Same roadblocks, same failures. If I had to guess, they're as stuck here as they've been everywhere else. Though I imagine they're using JCJenson's old research notes rather than their own...Order scientists aren't exactly the brightest drones around."
The Rookie's gaze drifted back to the foreboding structure, unease creeping down his spine. From what he understood, not every Forerunner structure was created equally, the problem was just figuring out what its purpose was at a glance. It could very well be a communication outpost, a research facility...or alarmingly enough, a weapons cache.
Moving past the Forerunner structure, the two found themselves at an area designed to be a makeshift prison out of what seemed to be various old box stores in what was once an underground mall area. At the front, a pair of Worker Drones wearing construction helmets with the letters 'MP' hastily painted on them approached Daryl, both wielding MA3 Assault Rifles far too large for their small bodies.
"Private Daryl?" one of them inquired, looking up at the Rookie in an act that was supposed to seem threatening, though failed on all margins to the far more battle hardened ODST.
"Yep! This is the human I caught. Just taking him to the cells. He's ready for uh…slavery? Or something. Which Is great because I absolutely hate humans."
The Rookie, listening to possibly one of the worst performance acts in his life just shook his head in disbelief, how Daryl had actually managed to go this long without being outed was a mystery. The MPs grabbed Rookie, though it was mostly them just brandishing their weapons and expecting the Rookie to follow them.
Now at this point in the plan Daryl was supposed to have loosened the handcuffs the Rookie was bound by and he was supposed to overpower both the MPs and Daryl and escape. Daryl would still have his credibility and the Rookie would…well not be a prisoner of war. That point hadn't come yet. The Rookie turned to Daryl and made a motion towards his binds trying to figure out just what the hell was going on with this plan of his. Daryl meanwhile just glanced down at Rookie's binds. Blinking, and then giving a shrug before offering him a wave…The Rookie had very little time to actually protest Daryl's betrayal before he felt a searing wave of electricity slam into his calf, knocking him out.
—-
Awakening some time later, the Rookie found himself in a small, empty room with what looked to be a plasma wall holding him inside, It vaguely resembled Covenant prison cells.
"Oh look, he's awake. Good for him."
A familiar voice said in a sarcastic tone, turning to see who it was, The Rookie was shocked to see one of the first Worker Drones he had encountered sitting across from him…what was her name? Kate, that's right! She was wearing the same cuffs as he was.
"Hmm. I'm surprised you weren't shredded by one of the Disassembly Drones out there. That's a pity."
Kate looked at her nonexistent nails, before glancing back up at the Rookie with an indignant expression.
"They put me here because I abandoned my post because of you had just laid down and died. Or strung yourself on that wall alongside that other guy. Then I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!"
Hearing the argument inside the cell, the guard slowly walked off, not really wanting to listen to Kate's shouting. She took notice of this, walking to the plasma barrier and looking down both hallways to make sure that the guard was out of earshot. "But…then again…"
Kate turned around and her demeanor and posture had changed. She was slumped over, like she was barely holding herself upright. Her face was marked with a large, toothy smile as she stared at the Rookie. Her 'eyes' flashed to life with some kind of odd symbol the Rookie swore he had seen before. The shape featured a hexagon with the right hand corner of it barely missing, colored blood red, three dithering arrows extended out from the center of the hexagon. All of this was encircled within an odd, circular frame with thicker lines to the left and right of the inner portion surrounding the symbol itself.
"I see you, Reclaimer" Kate, or whatever was masquerading as Kate used her hand to prop her head up, which was slumping over approached Rookie, walking in a limp fashion like a ragdoll, dragging her foot behind her. She sat down next to him and began to almost caress his helmet, an action which caused Rookie to lurch away from her.
"By your forefather's gifts, Their sacrifice for all who came after them. A seed they planted that they knew they will never see bear fruit." said, her tone both solemn and expectant.
"The inheritors of this galaxy were always meant to claim what lies dormant, knowledge that sleeps in steel and stone, technologies abandoned to the deep…pet pet" Kate seemed to be gesturing to the outside of the cell, towards that structure the Rookie saw on the way in here. All of this prose came before she began to pat the Rookie on his helmet.
Kate's exclamation of her actions caused a bit of whiplash in the Rookie's focus towards just whatever she was saying. The word "Reclaimer" had certainly come up a decent amount of times in whatever documents the Rookie was cleared to read on Installation 04. Though it was rather vague and didn't quite explain who or what a Reclaimer even was. Obviously this was way above his security grade, and really it felt as If this had nothing to do with the mission in the first place.
"But-" Kate's eyes flared to life once more. Now getting right into the Rookie's face, the red glow reflecting off of his visor.
"-there are those who see these remnants not as tools of enlightenment but as instruments of dominion. They seek to destroy, rather than uphold purpose, to be false gods to those who kneel before them in oblivion. Such is the fate of those who misunderstand my maker's gifts and desire only the control it affords. Even…I am guilty of such sins against my creators…"
Kate's visor flashed with various symbols as she spoke, the first of which being a symbol similar to that of what he first saw, except the main symbol wasn't encased within a circle. The hexagon was replaced with a standard cube shape and the arrows pointing outward were full rather than dithered, the symbol was also a bright yellow color…
Before Kate could speak anymore, the plasma barrier holding the two in suddenly vanished.
"As you were…Reclaimer~*" Kate stood, allowing the Rookie to stand up from his position against the wall. Still struggling against his handcuffs, Kate gave a gasp of realization. "Ah…one moment…"
Extending her hand, the Rookie's binds were enveloped by that very same symbol he saw earlier, though now manifested in reality as an odd hologram. He felt a bit of pressure and his handcuffs cracked. Dropping to the floor with metal still glowing orange where they were cut.
Wasting no more time, and not with so much as a parting word. The Rookie left the cell, Kate though refused to go along with him and just returned to her spot against the wall, gleefully waving him off before deactivating entirely and leaving a dead husk behind.
Keeping to the shadows and dodging whatever inattentive patrol that came his way, the Rookie made his way back towards the elevator to the surface level. He paused, coming across a storage room of sorts that seemed to contain more UNSC weaponry and even armor from Marines or even some ODST gear. Among the pile he inspected, alarmingly, was a S-1/ONI Recon helmet with a scratch mark running right through the middle of its face, nearly tearing the helmet in half. The word 'DARE' was inscribed in white text across the forehead of the helmet. Ah hell. That ONI spook that Buck was speaking to right before the drop. The one who placed the order to divert the drop away from the Prophet of Regret's carrier. Rookie wanted to say that this meant that those Disassembly Drones had gotten to Dare too, but knowing her background, it was hard to say for certain. Moving on, the Rookie found himself near a makeshift lab where a trio of Pawns were standing around a gurney with the dead body of an Elite Minor laying haphazardly across it.
"It doesn't match anything from Copper 9's native fauna either."
"I feel like JCJenson would have said something if there were armored dinosaurs wandering around the planet beforehand…"
"I think it's an alien"
"This again, Cameron? Aliens aren't real. Humanity colonized thousands of worlds and they never saw a single intelligent alien."
"We have scientists investigating alien ruins just outside of here, you're really going to say that now?"
"How do you even know that's an alien structure? It could just be a JCJenson outpost or some rich fart's secret warehouse or something. Damn. Start acting more like a scientist…"
Near one of the doors, a Pawn was standing guard, mostly though trying not to doze off. The Rookie silently crept up behind the Pawn, before wrapping his hands around the Pawn's head and taking him down to the ground before he could react, with a swift kick to the head, the guard was subdued. Rookie quickly removed the guard's pistol from his holster, checking to make sure it was actually loaded, and before anyone could tell what was going on, he bolted towards where the elevator was. Calling the elevator, the Rookie kept to the shadows. The doors opened, and standing in the elevator was Daryl. Before he could speak, the Rookie slammed the Worker Drone against the back of the elevator and shut the doors.
"Wait wait wait! Hold on! I can explain!"
Daryl kicked his legs, attempting to get the Rookie to let him go, his LED eyes shrinking to pin pricks when he noticed the gun in his face.
"I-I had to make it believable! And If I failed to get you to your cell, that would still have hurt my credibility! I would have been in that cell right alongside you! A-And who do you think deactivated your cell…huh?!"
The Rookie, hearing this, shook his head in disbelief, before dropping Daryl, who was now gasping for air…somehow…hunched over and rubbing his neck.
"Sorry for not telling you. You don't exactly have the best acting chops around…"
Pot calling the kettle black…
"Speaking of which…how did you get out of your handcuffs…? I have the key right here…"
Daryl produced a key, though with no handcuffs to unlock, it was utterly useless now. The Rookie really didn't have the time nor desire to explain to Daryl just what the hell happened in that cell. Nor did he really assume he would understand anyways.
Nearing the top of the elevator, Daryl seemed to be shifting uncomfortably in place, tapping his metal fingers together.
"Uh…so please don't get angry at me for this…but I did call out that you were holding me hostage and that we were going to be at this particular elevator…so they probably have a squad waiting at the top of the elevator…b-but If we stick to the plan. It'll all work out!"
The Rookie was finding it harder to justify keeping Daryl alive, mostly due to whatever the hell these "plans" were that mostly seemed to involve throwing him under the bus.
"Hey uh…If you have night vision in that helmet of yours, I'd advise that you turn it on before those doors open…"
Taking up position at the door, the elevator doors opened to reveal a squad of Order soldiers waiting just as Daryl said. All with guns pointing to the door. An Enforcer seemed to be leading the team.
"You are surrounded. Keep your hands up and you will be executed promptly."
Just then, the lights failed across the facility, plunging it into darkness. Switching on his VISR. The Rookie dropped the Enforcer with the first shot through the head before grabbing his shotgun off the ground. The Pawns began to panic, looking around for where the Rookie was, only to be taken down one by one in the darkness. By the time the Rookie had escaped, leaving Daryl behind, all that was really left was several robotic bodies on the oil covered ground.
With the base sirens ringing, the Rookie dashed for the gates with very little resistance due to the confusion. Promptly, he was back outside. Gaining a bit of distance, he began to take stock of his situation. Rather low on ammo and still nowhere near close to finding his squad…
Just then, the Rookie noticed a blinking light in the distance. Following it, he found that the light was attached to a metal box with an unfamiliar logo on the side. Cautiously, he opened the box to find a rifle, ammunition, grenades and some other equipment inside, including MREs. A note laid within.
"To Lance Corporal Jonathan Doeherty of the United Nations Space Command, we are grateful for your assistance with one of our agents despite the trouble you were undoubtedly forced to endure. Every victory against the Order is one step further to the liberation of Copper 9, and a better future for both mankind and our mechanical brothers and sisters. We send our condolences to you for the loss of your squad members and the various other members of your 'UNSC' that we have found across the city. We have envoys en route to contact these remnants for further assistance against our common foe. Enclosed within this box should be enough supplies to ensure that you survive another night, alongside an ID module that should keep you safe from our patrols for the foreseeable future. We look forward to greater cooperation, and wish you luck on your mission.
~ Catherine the Great, Shepherd's Accord High Command "
Stowing the letter in his pack, and attaching the ID module to his helmet. The Rookie took what supplies he could fit on his person, loaded up and set off into the city once more, detecting another waypoint he could follow. Following it, the Rookie found himself in a financial district. The waypoint being, oddly enough, a UNSC datapad. Before he could actually analyze the datapad, a squad of Order soldiers moved into the area. Forcing the Rookie to retreat into a nearby bank, making his way past the frozen skeletons, he made his way into the vault, he quickly sat himself against the wall. After making sure the area was secure, he began to view the contents of the datapad...
To be continued...