Chapter 13

The Rookie – Occupied city center, eleven hours after drop.

Once they were done with their impromptu meal, the Rookie led Alba out onto the street again, following the route that was plotted on his map. They were finally nearing the city limits, and once they reached the freeway, they could hopefully follow it all the way out of New Mombasa. That was the plan, at least.

They reached another one of the massive gates that blocked the street, this one had closed on a car, cutting it almost in two. There was no driver inside it, fortunately. It wasn’t as though the doors snapped shut like a trap, the owner would have been given ample time to get out of the way.

Alba waited as he checked his files for the correct code, entering it into the numeric keypad that was embedded in the metal, then he took a step back as it began to slide open with a mechanical rumbling. There was a creak as it released the car, the metal bent beyond recognition. They stepped through, dodging around more abandoned vehicles, the glow from the streetlamps casting eerie shadows. The sky was still dark, storm clouds roiling, the glow of far-off fires staining the horizon red. As the gate began to close behind them, Alba stopped him, holding a finger to her helmet.

“Wait,” she muttered, “I am picking up something...” Her eyes widened beneath the shadow of her helmet, and she took the Rookie roughly by the arm, practically dragging him off the street and into the darkness of a nearby alley. Before he had time to ask her what was wrong, his VISR alerted him to enemy movement nearby, a shape outlined in red rounding the corner ahead of them.

“Be silent,” Alba whispered, “Covenant patrol.”

“Which faction?” the Rookie asked.

“It does not matter, both are bad for us...”

He watched from the shadows as an entire pack of Brutes made their way along the sidewalk, strolling about like they owned the city, he counted at least a dozen of them. They looked so out of place, contrasting with the mundane scenery around them, the colorful armor that they wore reflecting the light of the street lamps and scrolling advertisements. They were armed to the teeth. The Rookie could pick out the purple shine of Carbines, and the gun-metal glint of Maulers, cruel shotguns that the aliens wielded one-handed. At the head of the pack was a Brute in ornate, golden armor, a gravity hammer clutched in his hands. These guys meant business, if Alba had not been with him, he would have wandered right into them.

He wondered why they weren’t picking up Alba’s transmissions in kind, but perhaps their comms system could be set to receive-only. The Covenant BattleNet, as it was known, had notoriously poor counter-intrusion security. The Rookie had even been in a combat situation where they had been broadcasting unencrypted orders over the E-band frequency, the same one used by the UNSC. Even with the civil war going on, it might not occur to them that hostile parties might be listening in.

The pack of Brutes approached the door, the golden-armored alien at their head shouldering an abandoned van out of his way, pausing to inspect the now sealed gate. The blue-armored Brutes that made up his entourage fanned out, as though they were trying to figure out how the door had been opened. Perhaps the noise had alerted them.

The gold one put a finger to his ear, planting the haft of his long, heavy hammer into the asphalt as he appeared to have a conversation with someone on the other end of the radio. The weapon was massive, to say that the head of the hammer was as large as an engine block would be no exaggeration. It was probably just as heavy.

“He speaks to the carrier,” Alba whispered over the Rookie’s shoulder. “He heard the sound of the gate opening and is confused. He wants to know how to proceed.”

“You can eavesdrop on their comms?” the Rookie asked, and she nodded her helmeted head.

The golden Brute seemed to grow frustrated, walking up to the door and examining the numeric keypad. He tapped at the buttons clumsily with his sausage-like fingers, a warning icon flashing in red as he was denied access. He roared like an angry gorilla, lifting his gravity hammer over his head and bringing it down on the gate, the metal ringing like a gong. It was a futile gesture, but the force of the blow sent a spiral of dust into the air, the windows on the buildings to either side of the door shaking in their panes.

The Brute barked at his pack, and they fell into formation, heading back the way that they had come. The Rookie watched them from the safety of the alley, thanking his stars that they hadn’t been sniffed out. It was probably only thanks to the dumpsters that surrounded them, the stench of rotting garbage sneaking its way through the filters in his helmet.

He waited with bated breath until the last red outline had vanished, then finally exhaled, Alba checking her comms to ensure that the pack was gone.

“We should be safe,” she said, “they continue their patrol.”

She sounded as relieved as he was, she really wasn’t fucking around. He got the impression that she would have been in as much trouble as him if they had been discovered. How could she explain why she was wandering around in a deserted city with a Human in tow?

The Rookie took a moment to modify his route, steering well clear of the street that the Brutes had vanished down, then waved for Alba to follow him.

They wandered the empty streets, the Rookie keeping watch with his VISR, Alba monitoring her radio carefully. The sky was starting to clear somewhat now, a few twinkling stars visible here and there between the dark clouds, and the rain had finally let up. They came across another large, open plaza, areas that Alba told him were used as staging points by the Covenant. Due to the gates blocking the streets and sectioning off the different parts of the city, the aliens had been hopping between the plazas in Phantoms, setting up FoBs wherever there was room. They had been tasked with patrolling the walled-off areas, finding and killing any enemy forces therein.

“We should go around,” she warned, “there will be Covenant forces stationed there.”

The Rookie pulled up his map, checking the maze-like layout of the streets. They all funneled into that plaza, there was no way to avoid it without doubling back and taking a completely circuitous route that would add hours to their journey. It was more of a traffic circle than a plaza, really. Four large roads intersected there, and the simplified map showed a circular junction with an island of grass in the center. That would be where the Covvies would have set up shop, it would make an admirable landing pad in a pinch.

“All roads lead there,” he muttered, Alba keeping a lookout while his map filled his field of view. “Can’t go around. We’ll stick to the buildings, stay under cover.”

She still seemed nervous, but they had little choice. He closed the map, peering up at her as she was lost in thought for a moment.

“Very well, but we must be careful.”

They made their way towards the junction, staying off the street as much as possible, cutting through empty buildings wherever they could. As they neared what they assumed to be a Covenant FoB, Alba stopped him, one finger pressed against the side of her helmet.

“What?” he asked, “you pickin’ up traffic?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “That is the problem. Alba knows that there is a forward base here, or we would not have encountered patrol, yet I hear nothing. There is no chatter, the local channel is quiet. There should be two teams patrolling at least, and large Covenant presence at the plaza.”

“So what does that mean?” he asked.

“I ... do not know. It is unlikely that they would change their broadcast frequency.”

“We have to pass by there anyway,” he replied, checking the ammo counter on his carbine. “We’ll take a look see.”

The Rookie led Alba to an office block that overlooked the junction, and they made their way to one of the upper floors, giving them a higher vantage point over the traffic circle. He instructed her to stay away from the windows, making sure that the room was clear before taking a look outside. It was a generic office, packed with cubicles and computer terminals. This place would be a great sniper’s nest, and he didn’t want to stumble across another pack of Jackals.

He crept over to the nearest window as Alba watched from the doorway, peeking over the sill, exposing as little of his head as possible. His VISR was able to penetrate the gloom, outlining objects in yellow, and enemies in red.

There was indeed a large, grassy island in the center of the intersection, the circular road absolutely clogged with abandoned vehicles. The Covvies had erected a forward operating base there, just as Alba had said. He could see a floating guard tower, stacks of pod-shaped crates that must have been offloaded there by a Phantom, and the aliens had erected rows of purple barriers to serve as fortifications. He counted three plasma cannons, and one of the broadcast towers that the Covenant used to boost their comms signals. They had the place on lockdown, even with a full team of ODSTs, it would have been a pain in the ass to assault.

“What do you see?” Alba asked.

“There’s a base there,” he replied, “but no Covvies.”

“What?” she grumbled, perhaps assuming that he had made some kind of mistake. “Your primitive visor must be malfunctioning, move aside.”

She ignored his request to stay out of sight, marching across the office and shouldering him out of the way. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out over the intersection, her frustration replaced with confusion.

The Rookie gestured to the window as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“But this is not possible, where could they have gone? They would not have been recalled to the carrier, the battle is all but won.”

He gestured for her to hand him the needle rifle, and Alba tossed the weapon to him. He leaned his carbine against the wall, then shouldered the rifle, peering through the magnified scope.

“There’s your answer,” he said, “they’re dead.”

“Dead?” Alba repeated, failing to conceal her shock. “Impossible, give me that.” He passed her the weapon, and she looked for herself, muttering something under her breath in a language that he didn’t understand. “We must go down and take closer look.”

“Uh ... thought you wanted to bail?” he said, gesturing behind him with his thumb.

“We met full Covenant patrol not half hour ago,” she replied, leaning down to pick up his carbine and thrusting it into his arms. “We must solve this puzzle. If your UNSC are the culprits, then salvation may be closer than we think. If it was someone else, well...”

The Rookie swallowed, the implication not lost on him. If there were Sangheili in the area, then they needed to get the hell out of dodge, and double-time it. Those ugly bastards wouldn’t care whose side he and Alba were on, they would shoot first, and ask questions never. As much as Alba liked to tout their concept of honor, he had seen more than one person impaled through the back by a cloaked Elite.

They headed back down the stairwell, creeping out onto the street, their weapons raised as they scanned their surroundings for movement. Everything seemed quiet, but there was no telling what might be lurking in the shadows.

In his black BDU, the Rookie could go unseen when he needed to, he was the size of a mouse in comparison to some of the Covenant species. Alba, on the other hand, was nine feet tall and covered in gaudy armor. Going unseen was the last thing that she was built for.

He clambered over the derelict cars, Alba simply pushing them out of her way, wading through them like she was walking through waist-high water. When they reached the grass, the Rookie shouldered his carbine, checking behind one of the purple barricades. He swept his weapon across the Covenant base, checking the watchtower that was suspended on a beam of energy, his VISR picking up nothing.

“I smell blood,” Alba said, sidling up behind him and lowering her rifle.

As they moved into the base, the Rookie began to paint a picture of what had transpired here. There were dead Covenant strewn everywhere, Brutes, Jackals, and Grunts alike. Technicolor blood stained the grass, burn marks, and embedded needles peppering the barricades. There had been one hell of a fight.

“Tiny man,” Alba said, getting his attention as she pointed to a pile of dead Brutes. He recognized one of them, its armor tinted gold. “This is the patrol that crossed our path.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. He and Alba hadn’t been far behind the Brute patrol, and they must have been relatively close when this firefight was going down. If the timing of events had lined up a little differently, they might have been caught up in the slaughter.

“Don’t see any UNSC,” he added, turning over a dead Jackal with his boot. It had been killed by plasma fire, its wounds cauterized and blackened.

“Here is culprit,” Alba said, the Rookie rounding another purple barricade to see a dead Elite slumped against a crate. It was wearing armor in an odd style, colored a dark shade of purple that bordered on red, with black underclothes. The shoulder pads were rounded and curved, tapering into a triangular point, the full-faced helmet similarly pointed.

“Stealth Sangheili,” the Rookie muttered, “probably assigned to a special operations team.”

“They use their cloaks to launch surprise attack on base,” Alba added. “Is no wonder they suffer so few casualties, they would have taken the defenders completely unawares.”

“If they’re not lying here full of holes, then they’re out there somewhere,” the Rookie said as he looked about nervously. “Just what we need, fuckin’ SpecOps splitheads runnin’ around...”

“We should not linger here,” Alba said as she moved over to the dead Brutes. “But first...” She leaned down, facing away from the Rookie as she seemed to struggle with something for a moment. She stowed her needle rifle on her back, then stood up, the golden Brute’s massive gravity hammer clutched in her hands. “Alba always wanted one of these, but they would never have bestowed the honor upon a female.”

The Rookie gestured for her to follow him, and they set off into the night.

“Now what?” Alba asked. They had stopped in front of a long, underground tunnel that passed beneath a section of the city, leading to the coastal highway that they intended to follow out of New Mombasa. The mouth of the tunnel was closed off by a gate, but that wasn’t the issue. The pileup of abandoned cars that completely blocked their path was. Closing blast doors on a busy highway seemed more dangerous than blocking off random streets in the city, and it had caused a large traffic accident.

“Can’t get through this way,” the Rookie muttered. “There’s gotta be maintenance access somewhere.”

He began to clamber over the derelict cars, making his way towards the tunnel. It seemed as if those at the front had stopped suddenly, and those behind had rear-ended them. There were no bodies that he could see, but it was hard to imagine there being no injuries in such a big crash.

To the left of the closed gate was a maintenance access door, as he had hoped, but it was protected by a metal cage that was secured with a hefty padlock. Only city workers were supposed to be able to get through this way, and there was no keypad on which to enter a code. He wrapped his fingers around one of the iron bars and pulled, straining against it, but to no avail. When that failed, he tried to break the rusted lock with the butt of his carbine, but it held fast.