| abstract
| - Something was wrong. Tuka watched the guards around the holding room as they talked into their radios and made sure their weapons were in working order. Over half the contingent watching him and his fellow prisoners had gone dashing off not too long ago, leaving only four very nervous looking humans to hold the room. The young Sangheili kept the knife he'd gotten from Simon low. If one of the remaining guards saw it now, he'd have no chance to help his friend. From where he sat amidst the throng of his fellow prisoners, he could catch snatches of the guards' conversation. Most of their discussion seemed to be regarding what to do about the prisoners, and the snippets Tuka picked up were not encouraging. "...no use for them now," one of the humans was saying. "You heard the boss. Snuff 'em and we can haul ass to the hangar." "Well unless Venter sent down some spare clips, I'm not doing any shooting," the guard closest to the bars retorted. "I don't have any spare ammo and I'm not wasting what I've got here." Beside Tuka, one of the other warriors in the holding pen grunted softly. "Not good. I doubt we have long to live." "Don't be so sure, brother," Tuka whispered back, flashing the knife in his hands. "We mustn't give up hope yet." The warrior raised an eyebrow. "How did you get that?" "The human who fought here, the one they took away, he slid it in here before he was defeated," Tuka explained. That was the other thing that drove him not to give up hope. He couldn't die here because Simon was a prisoner somewhere. To die would be to fail him as well as the civilians here in the pen. "Well, unless he slid you a grenade I don't see how that will do any of us much good," the warrior replied, sliding back down to the floor. Out beyond the pen, one of the guards was checking a computer bank. "Maybe we should get the Reaper down here. I bet he'll have something to take 'em out with." "That hardcore bastard's probably on the front lines at this point," another retorted. "Where's those fuel canisters we hauled down here? I've got an idea." "Oh, nice thinking. We can just douse 'em and throw a match in there." The guards paused as the chamber's lights flickered. When they switched back on, several remained out. The human at the computer bank checked the monitors again. "Ah, shit. The fence is out." "Good thing they don't know that," a guard laughed as he hefted two large containers and headed for the fence. "Someone give me a hand here, will you?" Tuka tightened his grip on the knife. Thank you, Simon. Thank you for this blade... and for forcing me to learn the human tongue. The electricity on the pen was down. That meant there was nothing to prevent him from reaching through the bars... "Follow me," he told the warrior beside him. "There isn't much time." Without waiting for a response, he slipped through the crowd of despondent Sangheili. He crept closer and closer to the fence as the guard drew near. Father, mother, guide my hand, he prayed silently. The guard reached the fence, then paused to unscrew the caps on one of his burdens. There was not a moment to lose. Tuka lashed out, his arm slipping past the bars and stabbing the surprised human square in the gut. Someone moved beside him, and then the warrior he had spoken to had also reached through the pen to pluck the guard's weapon out of its holster. Adjusting his grip on the weapon, the warrior calmly took aim and fired one shot, then two, then three. The guards across the room collapsed one after the other. None of them had time to even reach for their own rifles. The Sangheili around them shifted and started to call out, utterly surprised by what had just happened. But the only thing Tuka could focus on was the pained gasps of the guard he had on the end of his knife. He had killed before, in pursuit of vengeance for his family and in the service of Sanghelios, but it never felt natural or right no matter how much he did it. "Open the gate," he ordered the guard. "Open the gate and I won't kill you." Face screwed up in pain, the guard haltingly drew a small card from his belt and swiped it down the side of a device strapped to the bars. The fence slid open, leaving a large hole for the prisoners to stream through. Tuka withdrew the knife and staggered out of the cage. It was all so surreal, the turn of events that had led to this sudden freedom. It was only when he heard a stifled scream from behind him that he realized he had only promised that he himself would not kill the surviving guard. He had made no such promises on behalf of his fellow prisoners. The warrior who had helped him was already on the other end of the chamber. He and several other freed prisoners were busy appropriating the dead guards' weapons and equipment, looping ammunition belts over there chests as makeshift bandoliers. Tuka followed them and took a human pistol for his own. "We need to get these civilians out," the warrior told him. "More guards may come when their friends don't report in." "I used to work in a mine like this," one of the prisoners said, stepping forward. "I can guide us to the quickest route to the surface." "You go," Tuka told his compatriot. "Guard the civilians. There is something I need to do here still." The warrior nodded. "The other human?" "He is bound to me by more than his gift of the knife. I will not abandon him here." The warrior rested a hand on Tuka's shoulder. "The gods be with you, young one." "And you as well," Tuka replied. He could only hope that the gods that had led him to victory against Mallunus would also guide him to wherever the killers had taken Simon.
*
* The humans had erected layer upon layer of barricades throughout the mine's tight corridors. Dozens of them crouched behind solid cover, ready to unleash a flurry of gunfire on any Sangheili that came within their crosshairs. Every Sangheili advance was met with a solid wall of bullets, grenades, and whatever other ordnance the rebels had on hand. None of it mattered. Autel and Fira led the charge, blazing away with plasma and needle fire as they tore through the humans' defenses like a raging storm. Their shields took the brunt of the defenders' fire, letting them close in to use the humans' own barricades against them as they cleared one tunnel after the other. The fury of their advance spread like wildfire throughout the ranks of the warriors behind them; the corridors rang with exuberant war cries that had many humans fleeing in terror before the battle even reached them. As Autel vaulted over the latest barricade, his plasma rifle hissed and fell silent as its power source died. He dropped the weapon and drew his energy sword in a single fluid movement, cutting the nearest human in half with his blade arm while slashing another's throat with the wrist gauntlet on the other. Fira landed right behind him and put needles in the chests of the three humans who remained standing. Gunfire rushed down the hall to meet them, but the shooters fell silent as warriors rushed up to support the officers and filled the air with scorching plasma from their rifles and repeaters. Fira let out a bellow and rushed ahead, leading the warriors onward. Autel stepped aside and allowed the rest of the lance to pass him by. So this is how humans fight. This was the most violence he had ever visited upon the species, and it wasn't like fighting the Jiralhanae or even his fellow Sangheili at all. He was used to seeing the Spartans fight, but the regular human was so much smaller and slower than the armored supersoldiers. Even the regular-sized ones in the lighter armor, the ones he had heard referred to as "threes" could move fast enough to match a Sangheili. He looked down at the humans he had just killed. They had moved so slow, and died so easily... These rebels visited death upon my homeworld, he reminded himself sternly. They butchered cities and entire keeps. They deserve neither pity nor mercy. Gripping his energy sword with renewed strength, he charged on after his warriors.
*
* The cell door slid open. Behind him, Simon heard Zoey whimper, "He's back..." The Reaper had removed the shackles around his wrists and legs. If Peter walked through that door, Simon would throttle the life out of that identical neck of his or die trying. He rose unsteadily, clenching his fists and ignoring the pain throughout his body. For once he was glad for his prosthetic arm: at least that wouldn't give out when he wrapped its metal fingers around Peter's throat. But no one stepped through the door. Simon squinted at it through his remaining eye, looking for any sign of Peter, the cell guards, or anyone else. But the hallway outside seemed completely empty. Even the alarms from before had died out. What the hell is going on? "If I were you, which I'm glad I'm not," a familiar voice floated in from the vacant hall. "I'd get down on my scabby knees and start begging for forgiveness." Simon blinked, his fingers loosening in shock. "Diana?" "Who else would it be, dumbass, Santa Claus?" "Diana," he muttered, knees weakening with relief. "You... you're..." "Amazing, I know," she gloated. "Something you certainly aren't. I didn't think it was possible for you to look anymore pathetic than you already did, but I guess even I can be wrong about some things." Simon really did fall to his knees, practically blinded by the light of the hallway and the freedom it offered. "I can't believe it..." "You shouldn't talk to him like that," Zoey said, speaking in the hallway's general direction. "He got this way because--" "Because he's an idiot, yes, we've been over this already. He reminds me of it every time he does anything." "How the hell are you even in the system?" Simon asked. "Don't tell me Venter..." "Yeah, he's even dumber than you. Can you believe he actually thought a few firewalls and no network connection would keep me cooped up?" "He actually plugged you in," Simon muttered, flabbergasted. "Well, now the squid-heads are bringing down the thunder," Diana explained. "Hence the lack of guards. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that? Maybe the beacon I'm tracing from where they dumped your armor?" "Yeah, that was me," Simon said, getting to his feet. "I made a deal for protective custody with Fira." "Glad to see you haven't gone completely brain dead," Diana quipped. "Though you're awfully quick to trust someone who tried to kill us not too long ago." "You know how they are with honor," Simon said. "But that doesn't matter now. Where's Venter?" "Still gunning for him?" Diana sighed. "Because it worked out so well for you last time..." "If you don't tell me where he is, I'll go after him blind," Simon warned her. "He's not getting away this time." "You're awfully quick to chuck around eye words," Diana noted. "But I guess there's not point in stopping you. He's already ditched the command center. Looks like he's headed for one of the hangars." Simon's fists clenched. "Alone?" "Looks that way to me." "Good." Simon staggered out of the cell with a newfound surge of purpose. "I'm going after him. Keep me updated." "Without armor? You don't even have a weapon. And don't make me bring up the eye..." "He dies," Simon snarled. It was the only thing left to keep him moving, the one thing that kept him from simply keeling over and dying from all the pain. "Fine, fine, get yourself killed," Diana muttered. "See if I care." "Mordred..." Zoey began. "You stay put," Simon ordered. "Wait for the Sangheili to find you... oh hell, scratch that. You're coming with me." She looked up at him from inside the cell, eyes wide. "Come with you?" "You owe me a lot of money, remember?" Simon called back over his shoulder. "I'm not letting you out of my sight until you've paid up." Simon, Stray, and Mordred stepped forward as one. As one they went to war.
*
* Her partner certainly was a dumbass, Diana had to admit. But at least he never made things dull. "Just keep moving down the hall," she instructed, following his progress through what remained of the security system. Close to half the cameras were already down, and with humans and Sangheili alike determinedly spraying bullets and plasma fire all over the place she doubted the remaining half would be working much longer. "If you move fast, you'll cut him off before he can find some flunkies to use as meatshields." The entire command center was deserted. Morale for the techies had vanished very quickly once Venter wasn't around to wave his gun at them, and they'd cleared out mere minutes after he'd left. Diana couldn't help but feel insulted that--once again--she was being left behind in Venter's scramble to get out of the fire. It really was her fate to be left unappreciated and undervalued. Even while she was giving Simon and Zoey directions, another part of her was busy observing the progress of the Sangheili's furious charge through the rebel defenses. Most of the surviving HLF troops had pulled back to the various makeshift hangars throughout the facility. Diana made sure to save the footage of Sangheili-on-human combat that was streaming in from the security feed. It was always good to have a reference for this sort of thing when she needed to pull Simon out of the next mess he managed to land himself in. She was halfway through guiding Simon through a small access corridor, editing the combat footage, and tracking Venter's progress when she caught something on one of the auxiliary cameras. It wasn't much, but for half an instant she saw a small tight group of humans making their own way into the facility. Humans in very distinct armor... This was bad. The UNSC was here, and they'd brought Spartans. It took her a millisecond to process the camera feed and reach that conclusion, but before she could shout a warning to her partner she felt her connection to the facility's dying systems whither away into nothing. The last thing she did before her memory chip was ripped from its console was create a flash-copy of her own data and send it scurrying into the system she had until recently been in complete control of... In the deserted command center, Peter tucked the bulky chip into a pocket on his combat vest. He flicked on his radio and opened a channel to Venter. "Hey, boss, mission accomplished. I got her." "Good." Venter's response was partially diluted by static. "Stupid not to grab her when I left. Now get your ass back here or you'll get left behind." "Right with you, boss," Peter replied, already darting for the door. He new the story of how Diana had gotten lost in the first place all those years ago and had no intention of sharing his progenitor's fate.
*
* "Simon." Simon paused and threw out his hand, nearly clotheslining Zoey as she skidded to a stop behind him. "What is it, Diana?" "Simon, Venter just entered the hall perpendicular to the one you're in. Go straight and he'll be there. Hurry. Peter has me. He'll be with Venter soon." "What... what's wrong with her voice?" Zoey panted. "It's all weird, and she's talking funny." "A flash copy." Diana had made emergency shades of herself in the past when they'd needed to hack systems without needing her data chip or a strong connection. "Peter must have yanked her from the system." "So what do we do?" "Easy." He broke into a run, ignoring his aching legs as he dashed down the corridor. "Kill Venter." "Mordred, wait!" But her cry was lost behind him as he pelted towards the door separating him from Venter. Was this how Tuka had felt right before he'd fought Mallunus? No, it couldn't be. Tuka could never have been capable of the pure, undiluted fire that pushed Simon onwards now. This animal fury, this need to kill, this wasn't a rage Tuka could even begin to comprehend, let alone possess. Mallunus had been too distant, a goal to be found and conquered. Simon could feel Venter beside him even now, handing him a pistol, improving his shooting stance, shouting encouragement into his ear... and abandoning him at the first sign of trouble. The door slid open before him and he passed through without breaking stride. There was Venter on the open floor, alone and unsuspecting. The rebel heard the door open and turned in time to see Simon hurtle through. Those mad-dog eyes widened in surprise, but he brought his pistol to bear without missing a beat. Simon felt the bullet pass less than an inch over the top of his head. Two days ago the close shave would have sent him diving to the side as he worked out a plan to avoid the next shot. But today he kept running. In the next instant he'd collided with Venter, and they fell together in a whirlwind of kicks and punches. For the next few moments Simon ran on nothing but instinct. His endurance training from Onyx blocked out the pain as Venter's knee found his chest. A block Jake had helped him perfect sent the pistol spinning away from its owner. One of the street moves Emily had taught him pinned Venter's legs to the floor. Venter's own knife training parried the switchblade that appeared in the rebel's hands and made a jab at his throat. All the pain and grief and misery that had built up over a life of nothing but pain and grief and misery were nothing but fuel from him now, an energy he directed at one target: Redmond Venter. His prosthetic hand latched onto the man's face and slammed his head into the ground. A quick twist from Venter avoided most of the impact and the next moment he had squirmed out from under Simon and scrambled to his feet. Each fighter met the other's gaze. In one, the single grey eye burned with hatred and loathing. In the other, two dark eyes sparkled with a strange blend of desperation and amusement. No matter how angry Venter got, he never lost that sense of overwhelming confidence. It made Simon want to kill him slowly and painfully, just to see how confident he looked then. "I hope there's a hell for you to burn in," he spat, tensing for another brawl. Venter just smiled and wiped a trickle of blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hope's overrated, kid." Zoey shouted something then, but Simon couldn't hear her over the sound the pistol made. A bullet ripped through his shoulder and knocked him face-first onto the floor. Rolling over, he saw Peter's cocky grin and realized just how much he was beginning to hate the sight of his own face. "Hey, cyclops," the clone sneered. "Forget to check that left side?" He raised the gun again, but before Simon could roll out of the way something large and dark collided with Peter's back. The clone let out a surprised yelp and went down under the weight of a young Sangheili warrior. "Simon," Tuka panted, pistol and knife at the ready. "I found you!" There was no time to think. Simon was up again in an instant. Venter's gun was by his feet, and he kicked it over to where Zoey was standing. "Shoot him!" he yelled at Tuka. "Blow his fucking brains out!" Tuka seemed to have the same idea in mind, but before he could kill the monstrosity beneath him his eyes widened and he shouted a wordless warning. "Wrong move, Stray," hissed a voice in Simon's ear. Venter's fist collided with his shoulder, already dyed red from the bullet wound. Simon's entire right side spasmed and in the next moment Venter grabbed him from behind and kicked his legs out from under him. "Good thing I didn't finish training you before you dropped out," the insurrectionist growled, whipping his free hand up to Simon's neck. "Let me show you how to open a man's throat with your fingers." Tuka trained the pistol on Venter, but couldn't get a clear shot. At his feet, Peter got his gun back and whipped it up to point at Tuka's head. "Don't even think about it, squid head!" Zoey had Venter's gun now, but she held it gingerly and seemed torn between pointing it at Venter, Peter, or the Sangheili that had just come out of nowhere. "Well, this is interesting," announced a new voice. All five combatants turned to see a large man in ODST armor advance through the nearest door, a battle rifle trained on Venter. Behind him followed a smaller figure in modified ONI recon armor holding a small, lightweight sniper rifle. "Kahn?" Simon gasped. "Mordred," David Kahn replied, inclining his helmet in recognition. "Can't say I expected to see you here, but then again you do have a habit of showing up in strange places." "You," Venter snarled. "What the hell are you doing here?" Kahn shrugged. "Same thing I'm always doing: fulfilling a contract." "A contract?" Venter demanded. "On who?" "You, obviously." The slender figure behind Venter suddenly spun and focused its rifle on the far door. "Incoming!" it yelled in a female voice. A young female voice. They all looked in time to see five newcomers enter the room. Three were clad in SPI armor, one wore a full set of Recon operative armor, and the last one towered above the rest in a full set of MJOLNIR armor. No one said anything for several moments as the UNSC strike team facelessly surveyed the situation. Simon squinted at the central SPI-wearing figure with his remaining eye and started when he saw its hands were shackled. No, he thought as a new horror dawned on him. It can't be... One of the other SPI's spoke up in a familiar voice. "Two Simons?" it demanded audibly. Ralph. Only he would speak up like that outside of the helmet communications. "How does that work?" "Drop Mordred, Venter," Kahn ordered, his voice unusually terse. "Now." "So you can shoot me easier? Like hell." Venter tightened his grip on Simon. "Alright, guns down!" he yelled at the UNSC. "Put 'em down or I'll kill this one." The UNSC team didn't so much as adjust their aim. Everyone was staring at everyone else, and those with visible faces all held comically confused expressions. The whole thing was funny, dreadfully, hideously funny. Simon let out a choked gargle that was halfway between a laugh and a scream. "Do you really think they care?" he asked Venter. "Shoot them," the ONI operative ordered. "Shoot them both." "No!" Tuka sprang forward to block their line of fire, and in that instant Peter took a shot at the moving Sangheili. The bullet missed, and in the next second the whole room dissolved into utter chaos.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)