Bloodlines Chapter 5: MTAE

Chapter 5
Means To An End






These Covenant symbols make absolutely no sense. At this rate I’ll never get down there. I’ll get those goddamned lizards for making such a confusing language.

***

‘Hello?’ Marcus called out from his stationary position on the steel beam. ‘Is anyone here?’ Silence and the flickering sound of fire answered him. Something crashed deep within the room.

Where exactly was ‘here’? Marcus wondered. He looked around at his surroundings. He had been on-duty when the blasts had hit the ship, so he should be near… there. He spotted the remains of his station in the ship’s reactor partition. It had been crushed to small fragments by part of a large ventilation conduit. Steam rushed out the exposed piece of piping. He grimaced and looked above him. What he saw confirmed his suspicions.

A ship the size of the Herodotus still had plenty of reactor piping- two of the three tree-sized reactor pipes had been sheared apart by explosions. The remaining pipe looked serviceable, but wasn’t functioning. Marcus again looked around himself. There had to be someone here but him. He gradually lifted himself off the steel beam and stood up straight, fighting off the protests of his muscles. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called out again.

‘Is anyone alive?’ he yelled. He took his hands away and listened carefully. Again, all he heard was silence. He squinted into the dark interior of the reactor chamber. Somewhere in the far reaches of the room, he thought he saw a shadow of a person. It was upright, but it wasn’t moving. He struggled to walk- they might need help.

He moved across the room, using whatever debris he could find for support. It was slow going- fire blocked his path in some places, and fallen bits of everything else blocked most of the rest. It took a grueling six or seven minutes, but he made it the fifty yards to the human-shape. Having reached the figure, he recognized it as one of the lab technicians, and-

‘Oh, G-‘ Marcus gagged, lost his grip on the wall, and looked away.

What he hadn’t seen when he thought he’d seen a full human torso was the fact that he only saw the upper half on the body- the rest had been sheared off by part of the reactor coil and lay a few feet away. Blood droplets slowly dripped from various exposed parts, and the face held a look of mild surprise. Eyes still open, perpetually open, staring at a fate he thought he would never have to face again.



***


Isma remained where the battle had ended, staring at the clear portholes that led to the now-empty escape-pod hatch. His breath condensed on the port windows, as he imagined the shipmaster’s expression still staring back at him. Faintly, he could see the gigantic ring structure, floating in space like an omnipresent shark. He had one hand on the edge of the door, the other hanging by his side. In a moment, he heard hoof-clops running up behind him.

‘Isma!’ Kira called as she reached him. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him away from the door.  Isma saw Esma standing a few feet behind Kira, waiting, plasma rifle drawn. Kira, however, gave Isma’s torso a once-over, and then brought his eyes to hers. ‘Are you ok?’

Isma took a moment to gather his bearings before answering. He looked at Esma, whom had a hint of concern in his eye. And unless he was mistaken, a hint of pride, as well. ‘Yeah… yeah, I think I’m ok.’

This earned a skeptical look from his sister, who proceeded to turn him back around to look at the armor’s backpack. It didn’t even take one look at the damage the grenade had done for her to ask the obvious question. She could feel the result with her hands, at any rate. ‘Your shields are gone. I don’t know how to repair them. That grenade did more than I thought.’

Isma shrugged his sister off him, and turned back around. She caught his eye, and there was concern there. ‘I think I’ll live, as long as there are no more crazed people with guns.’

Kira shook her head and hugged him briefly. ‘Don’t do that again. I didn’t find you just to lose you again.’

Isma hugged her back- and for just an instant, a barest fraction of a moment, everything was right in the world. They weren’t on an enemy ship millions of kilometers into unknown territory with a giant artificial ring right next-door. They weren’t on the verge of danger every time they turned a corner. They were together, like they were together before the war. Like they were before everything was torn apart. Like they were when everything was right with the world. But this was different; it was better. Because they would never separate like that again. That’s what the point was. So that could never happen again.

But as soon as that thought crossed Isma’s mind, he thought he felt Kira tense; just a little bit. A single emotion played through the tiny sensation- fear. But then it was gone.

He let go of her, and looked up to find Esma looking on with a face that expressed little in the way of emotion. Or, maybe, Isma thought, there were too many to show at once. That was certainly how he felt at the moment.

A small part of his brain wondered if Esma had any family to go back home to. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s why he had followed Kira out here on this mission of reunion. Maybe Kira was all he had left. Isma took a breath and addressed the red-clad soldier.

‘Esma, make sure the bridge consoles still work. I want to get this over with.’
***



Marcus had given up hope at this point of finding other survivors; and in the process had wondered exactly why he was one of them in the first place. The rest of the analytical part of his brain was busy unconsciously cataloguing what exactly was wrong with the part of the ship under his control.

Firstly, he noticed, no messages were coming in to the reactor room via the ship’s voice intercom. There were many places that could be done from- including the bridge. Either the system was broken, or the people there to operate them were. And judging by the state of this most important room, the bridge being out of commission didn’t seem too far a stretch.

Secondly, and perhaps most annoying, the lights were out. Even some of the dim red emergency lights were not functioning. This indicated a problem with the electrical systems, at least in this part of the ship. The vessel had to take quite a beating for this to happen.

Neither of these systems he could fix, and both of them pointed to the worst possibility- that he was, indeed, alone. This dredged him into a momentary despair; but then something he had noticed earlier caught his eye.

The one functioning reactor coil hung above his head like a taunting tree limb holding a particularly delicious piece of fruit. He strained his neck and cast an experienced eye at the complicated piece of equipment. There was no humming sound to indicate that it was running, but the problem didn’t look mechanical- just electrical, he decided, noting that the final coil’s computer station was also intact.

The decision gave him further purpose, and carried with it the force of fate itself. He brought himself to his feet.

If this were all that was left that he could do, then he would do it. To what higher power had granted him this opportunity, he would never know. But it lay before him, and he would take it.


***


Isma walked with a purpose up the ramp to the top of the command pedestal. It had been some time since he had done this- but the controls to operate the ship jumped out at him with startling clarity. As if nothing had ever happened, Isma reflected.

Esma was already seated at his accustomed station to Isma’s left, and Kira stood just behind them both, looking a bit lost as she tried to decipher exactly what they were doing.

The first step was to establish a communication line with whatever artificial intelligence that lay on the Herodotus. Isma came to that problem first- there was no AI unit on the ship, as it was deemed unnecessary. Working with the ship’s remaining electrical computer system would be more difficult, but it could be done. Isma tapped in the required codes and sent the burst transmission to the ship. He got no response.

Isma frowned and tried again, to no avail. He activated the external camera to take a look at his former craft. It was in bad shape, to put it bluntly- the Seraph fighters that had been sent to attack it now orbited around it like a swarm of bees with a lack of directions or orders. The outside skin of the ship was pockmarked with black from the laser bursts, and certain decks, which the fighters had targeted, were in terrible shape. He would need to try something else; but first those fighters had to be brought back in.

‘Esma, tell the fighter commander to bring his ships back in.’

The elite nodded and tapped a holographic symbol, speaking into the microphone. ‘Fighter squadron commander, this is the bridge. Report back to bay six and remain there until you are debriefed.’

There was a hesitation over the line, which sounded like a rush of static. ‘Who is this?’ the commander asked accusingly.

Esma furrowed his brow. ‘Shipmaster 'Vataree does not have time to direct your squadron. He is busy with his security team. We think we have intruders aboard. Copy?’

The line crackled with static. For a brief instant, all three of the elites stared at the controls, worried that the commander was too smart. Then the line cut in again. ‘Fighters returning to bay six. Out.’

Esma sighed in relief as the two-dozen teardrop-shaped ships grouped up and rocketed off, disappearing inside the belly of the Covenant ship. He made sure the bay doors were locked and secured, then looked at Isma. This earned him a nod of approval.

Isma turned back to the ship’s master controls, and looked over his options. The Herodotus’ communication’s package seemed to be out of action. It made sense, when he thought about it. That was usually the first thing the fighters went for. This left a direct connection, and fortunately, this ship had the means for such a thing.

‘Esma, launch the probe.’ He nodded and tapped a series of buttons.

The covenant ship had, despite being stripped for use by the pirates, several methods of reconnaissance. Three of those had already been used; the fighters, the external cameras, and it’s ship-to-ship communication’s package. The remaining method that could be used was the single probe. Effectively a small metal ball packed with communication gear and cameras, it was one of the most effective means of gathering data because of its small profile. Coincidentally, if there were no other means of reaching Herodotus, this would be the cure-all.

The probe launched out of it’s bay and rocketed toward the human ship. Isma pulled up the camera attached to the ball and watched it’s progress with the radar array. When the probe was within half a kilometer from the ship, it’s retrorockets fired, slowing its momentum. It came to a stop barely meters from the ship’s skin, firing its array of engines to keep up with the cruiser. A small magnet activated, and the ball slowly moved toward the ship, finally attaching itself with a clang to the hull.

Isma looked back at his controls and tried to communicate with the ship once again. He got a weak handshake reply from the computer systems, despite the differences in the hardware. The probe adapted its software routines to match the signals beaming from the human ship, and eventually the weak reply turned to a solid one, despite the hull’s thickness.

The first thing the computer asked for was the password. This wasn’t as simple as it sounded. On a ship this size, there would be several layers of security. The password not only had to be right, it had to be entered in the right way. This meant the codes had to be sent from the bridge. Esma spotted this problem almost at once.

‘Hold one, commander,’ he said. He tapped several buttons and started entering lines of code onto his display. Kira was a bit miffed at being left out of the loop, but said nothing. Isma, however, noticed her confusion and addressed her.

‘If the ship doesn’t think these codes are being broadcast from the bridge, it’ll lock us out for good. Esma is making sure it likes us first.’

Kira frowned. ‘Why don’t you maneuver the probe to the bridge?’

Isma looked back at Esma’s progress, and saw that he was done. ‘No need.’

The display shone still with its request for a code. Isma input the complicated series of numbers and letters, and sent the information. The display blinked for a moment, and a whole new set of instructions came up. They were in.

Here, Isma set his impromptu plan into motion. There were three tactical nuclear devices aboard the ship. If they were all blown at once, the force would be sufficient to destroy the ring. First, the nukes had to be armed. Then he would move the ship onto the ring. He could only hope nothing else went wrong.


***


Marcus was surprised that the elevator to the top level still worked. It was akin to a miracle, taking into account the rest of the damage to the ship. Unfortunately, the door at the top was slightly jammed, and he had to force it open, which took a great deal of his remaining strength. Oh, well. Win some, lose some.

Once he was at the top of the reactor control room, the problems he had theorized took on a physical shape. The reactor coil was mainly intact, but one of the loops was not aligned with the rest. Normally a team of technicians would fix such a problem. But as Marcus eyed the damage, he thought maybe- just maybe- he could align the coil enough to get the ship at least moving slowly. Assuming, of course, that the ship was going anywhere soon.

He moved as carefully as he could over to the coil, keeping an eye on his footing- he wasn’t too sure of how stable the floor below him was.
Suddenly, the floor beneath him that he had been monitoring so carefully fluttered. This got his full attention- a ‘flutter’ in a solid-steel platform was something to be alarmed about. He snapped his head up instinctively at the coils; they were alight with power, and trying to start the reactor. But the damaged loop prevented any of the power from reaching the system. At that instant, Marcus knew that this was the moment for which he had been spared.

He walked out to the coil’s station, grabbed the console, and leaned out with his legs, directly across from the damaged coil. The radiant heat was already climbing, and soon the coil would overheat and short out the rest of the system. He eyed the misaligned loop once more, and positioned his booted foot. He pulled it back, braced his arms-

And kicked.

Despite the million-to-one odds at this desperate maneuver doing anything, the payoff was instant. Two things happened. The first thing was that the two misaligned coils snapped back into their holsters, and power surged through the connection. The other thing was, that, despite the rubber sole of Marcus’ boot, a surge of electricity also surged through his body- not enough to kill him, but certainly enough to throw him off his perch, and down to the reactor room floor below.

Marcus somehow hit the ground on his feet, but they immediately buckled and he fell hard to the floor, landing ultimately on his back, face up to the coil. Stars exploded in front of his eyes as his head hit the ground and his breath left him in an explosive burst. The pain was instant and overwhelming. As he faded from consciousness, his last sensation was that of the ship moving. He grinned with what little resolve he had left. He had done his duty.


***


‘There it goes,’ Isma said. ‘The engines didn’t want to start.’

‘Engine,’ Esma corrected, looking at the readings. ‘Only one of them is working.’

They all went silent and watched the ship’s cameras as the impact of what they were actually doing hit them. The ship’s one working engine didn’t initially move the vessel, but as the frictionless thrust built up, the ship gradually moved faster and faster towards it’s destination- the looming Halo.

It was almost a serene sight to behold- something so small being compared to something so magnificent.

The ship’s journey was uneventful until it reached the ring’s atmosphere. Isma had plotted course to land on the ring itself. If the ship had been parked outside the structure, the blast might not have destroyed the ring entirely.  There, the problem with deep-space ships became apparent. They were built outside an atmosphere, and were not rated for atmospheric flying. Once the ship had gravity beneath it, it dropped like a rock, with little more elegance.
Once the ship had left their sight, Isma switched the camera view to the one on the Herodotus’ underbelly. All the elites saw for a few moments was the red glare of the atmosphere-, which gradually gave way to orange, then yellow, then a pure white as the ship descended over a brilliant snow-covered valley. The ship drifted lower and lower into it; and then the camera went blank into static as the vessel crashed into the planet’s surface. Isma addressed the red elite beside him, still staring at the static.

‘Detonate the nukes,’ he said.

He heard a button tapped beside him, and watched the external camera. For a long minute, nothing happened. The Halo remained stationary in the sky. He looked over at Esma, who looked as confused as he did. He tapped the button again. Nothing happened for second, and then a message popped up on the screen. He looked at Isma.

‘We… lost the signal.’

Kira, who had remained quiet all this time, now stepped between the two of them, looking at the Halo. She was silent for a second, and then spoke.

‘Well, then. We have no choice,’ she said as she looked at Isma. ‘We’re going down there.’