A shadow crossed across the surface of Kess'nho, the moon of Glar'ted. This Covenant outpost had been running for nearly three centuries. The small prototype ship glided silently through space and moved into a stationary orbit on the dark side of the moon. The Enzo was being piloted by Simman Ferenga, call sign Target. A few feet away was Katsue Basha, call sign, Ora, sitting in the Index Decoding chair. Glancing over at Ora, Target heard him talk to Gyro his pet Monitor Lizard sitting on a empty place on panel: one of the few spots not covered in hard copy printouts.

"One three nine Gyro?" he said. The lizard flicked its tongue. "Really? Maybe your right, one seven nine then."

Smiling at Ora's conversation, Target went back to making small adjustments in lateral and vertical thrusters, to steady the ship. Eventually, the rumbling of hull stress subsided and Target turned to Ora. Laying around him was a chaos of papers, notes, and fruit peelings. Sighing, Target stepped around the mess as Ora mumbled some number and fed a piece of apple to Gyro.

"Can't you drop the peelings in the compactor?"

"Too noisy, can't concentrate." Ora mumbled softly.

Grimacing, Target took his seat on the next panel and brushed a few papers to the side. Cricking his neck, he concentrated on the touch screen. Grabbing the Covenant Engine file and pulling it down to the Enlarge Box, he surveyed the last update sent in by Special Operations. His eyes flickered back and forth amazingly fast from long hours of reading. Reaching out he saw a few errors in the way they had put it back together. Tapping the flow inductor, he moved a small, abnormal shaped piece to the power core inverter. Target pressed a button and the file saved and then was sent back to the U.N.S.C. for re-examination.

Leaning back in his chair he rubbed his eyes and pulled up a small, movable table and set it between him and Ora. Taking out an antique soapstone chess set, he set it up. Black for Ora and white for him, like always.

"Alright Ora, how much is on the table this time." Smiling he waited for Ora to realize he had spoken and turn to him. Target knew he would never win. The bets were to simply give Ora a reason to play with him. When he had first met him, he wouldnt talk for anything and had been rather rude. Ora straitened up and twisted to the board. Pulling out a wallet he set down three thousand dollars. Target scowled. "You going low on me?" Smiling Ora picked up Gyro and waited for Target to put the money on the table. "Ah, hell. Ill win it back on the next slingshot. Every time you think I wont make it and I get all my chess money back."

Pulling out the cash, he slapped it down and moved a piece forward. Hunching down Oras eyes centered on the board and became still.

"Yes I see that. I could also do that one there." Gyro flicked his tongue and Ora moved a piece on the board.



Eight moves later the game was over. Target left his money and stood up yawning.

"Well, time for bed. Next time the lizard stays in the room though. And please don't leave your fruit around tommorrow morning..."

Ora Remained awake a while longer, he always went
to sleep two hours after Target, and got up two hours
later. He needed this time to himself, even with how
quiet Target tried to be, Ora still needed time without
him there. Ora looked to his monitor, watching the
communications code, deeply transfixed on the
monitor. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought
something very important was being said at this very
moment. Relying on his instinctive thought, he marked
the section of code for later, so he wouldn’t have to
dig to find it. And he, of course, made a hard copy of it
in the unlikely event data was corrupted. Once he
spent close to an hour taking notes, watching the
numbers roll, he then decided to take a break. Picking
up the M80 next to his desk, he brushed his hand over
the polished surface. Looking over it he smiled at the
engraving he had done of the reptiles from home, it
was a pleasant reminder to him always of what he
fought for. Most fought for family, revenge, or the
human race. Ora himself felt as though he didn’t fight
for humanity, but for the life of his world, and all the
creatures who sat helpless, completely unaware of the
impending cataclysm that threatened them, and if it
came, Ora knew they would be defenseless. In his
early life, he always wished to study zoology, and
become a conversational biologist. But now, he felt as
though this, this war was exactly that, and he would
always remain proud of it. Ora then looked to the
monitor, and found he had spent more then thirty
minutes in reminisces. But it didn’t matter, that was
mostly what he had to do in the past. And he didn’t
mind it even now, it helped him to focus, and to
remember what he was doing here, and why he had to
tolerate Target. He then looked at the images on the
weapon, and remembered his home, and how he
enjoyed it. The heat never bothered him, he was
always outside. He enjoyed the water, and the wooded
areas equally. And he hoped to see it again some day.
But until that time, his little piece of home, Gyro,
would have to do. Ora then stood up, and picked up a
small reseal-able container, and opened it, putting a
dab of its contents onto a small plate for Gyro to eat. It
wasn’t fresh meat, but it would do just as well. Eating
some himself from the container, he then picked us his
fruit peeling and dropped them inside the empty
hollow before dropping it all into the compactor. He
didn’t start it, but left that for Target to do each
morning, so he was asleep and didn’t have to hear it.
Ora gave a slight smile as something came to mind
concerning the Covenant code. Noting it he then
grabbed Gyro and headed to bed . . .

Target yawned and rolled from bed. His feet hit the cold, steel floor and woke him instantly. The maetal walls all around his quarters were plastered with bits of code and papers. Every morning he sat here for a half an hour and thought. Strange, that this was his way, but living with a seeming autistic person for months on end gave certain quirks to a person. The pages whirled i his head and his eyes barely blinked. As he analyzed, he knew that Ora had taught him a bit of his close-mindedness, just enough to be able to cut himself off and have his mind make the connections without hard thinking. This was subconcious though, and toTarget it seemed like the usual. He didnt get anything this morning, so he stood up and slipped into a baggy green shirt and green sweatpants. Trotting through the ship he warmed up for the gym. The ways around were strange on this prototype Enzo class ship. There were no elevators, just vertical and horizontal hallways that used artificial gravity to allow you to walk around the ship any way you wanted. This was adapted from covenant gravity, and Target often walked upside down on the ceiling. Thereasoning behind theis design was exercise; if the team didnt get the needed exercise weekly, they would not be fit enough if something came up. The Halls were circular tubes, which had paper thin slits that emitted a soft, blue glow, not unlike that of the purple glow on covenant ships. Target geared up for his exercise routine by sprinting through the grav-halls to the gym. Gonna be a good day.

Darkness filled the cold steel room, all lay at rest,
silent and peaceful. Soon though, it was all going to
change as the flourescent lights above flickered to life.
The room around him all coming to life with the lights
above, classical music slowly faded into existence as
the heating unit in the room then started to click and
rattle, vents expelling air and the smell of burning dust
on the coils. Ora’s eyes opened slowly, laying on his
left side, back to the door, he winced at the reflecting
light off of the steel walls. Covering his eyes, he rolled
to his right side, and waited a minute or so for the
room to warm up a bit. In about two minutes Ora
finally decided to get up. Sitting up, he gingerly
applied his feet to the floor. Standing, he moved up to
the glass cage on his dresser where he kept Gyro at
night. Opening the top of it, he removed the lizard and
set him on a towel he had pre-prepared on the desk. He
then moved to the opposing side of the room to sift
thru drawers cleverly built into the steel walls.
Leisurely, he collected a shirt and a new pare of pants.
Getting dressed he looked to Gyro, who waited
patently for Ora to finish. Ora looked to Gyro a
moment, taking in the reptile’s features a moment.
“You must be in a hurry to get started I take it?” The
reptile only looked back, watching him with it’s
common Reptilia like gaze. Ora then smiled. “I wish I
shared your enthusiasm this morning Gyro.”
Opening his bedroom door he stepped out, knowing
Target would likely be working out, as Ora always
started his day an hour after Target got up. “Well
Gyro, I suppose we need our exercise. Lets go for a
jog.” Ora then proposed, heading down the halls at a
moderate, but brisk pace. Later he came to a stop near
one of the maintenance rooms. Opening the doors he
stepped in and set the reptile down on an adjacent
storage chest. Then moving to a pipe exposed from the
wall, he continued his routine with ‘chin-ups’. These
workouts continued for close to thirty minutes before
he headed to the cafeteria. Arriving he noted Target
was still here, making something to eat apparently.
Ora found it odd that Target was here later then
expected. He moved closer to the steel counter and
leaned over it, setting Gyro down as he watched him.
Target seemed to be making a larger portion then he
usually ate, twice as much to be exact. Ora’s face
contorted consciously to display his perplexity on the
situation. Though not asking questions, or even
speaking to notify him of his presence, this was the
most attention Ora has payed Target when not in a
game of chess. But with his routine disrupted, all he
could do was wait until Target was done so he could
access the food and preparation appliances anyway.

Target showered a bit after the workout. Not looking up as Ora came in, he finished with what he was doing, and handed Ora the other platter. Smiling, he slid past him and sat down at the only table. Ora stood for a moment in confusion, and then sat down silently, evidently accepting this gesture as tolerable, though he did only eat the fruit, giving a bit of the meat to Gyro, who flicked his tongue unappreciatively at Target, who merely smiled, as Ora glanced up every few moments.
"Weird day, huh?"
Ora flashed target a look. Target furrowed his brow at this. Ora was responsive for once. Target switched to is "make Ora talk" mode.
"Penny?..."

“Penny?” Ora asked, astonishing Target in that he
actually spoke to him. Sitting across from Target, Ora
then looked down at Gyro, who he sat on the table
next to him. Target had learned a long time ago not to
comment on Gyro being on the counters, as Ora
tended to take offense when he did. “Penny!” Ora
suddenly lit up. “Yes! A penny!” Getting up Ora raced
to the counter, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen.
Sitting back down, he started to write. “A penny! Does
that sound reasonable to you?” He looked at Gyro,
who only stared back at him, his gaze unmoving. “Of
coarse not! You already ate!” He protested. Gyro still
looking at him, the reptiles expression just as bland as
it was every day. “Gyro! Be serious! This is very
important!” Ora waved his pen at Gyro, then returned
to writing.

Target grimaced slightly and looked around. He knew he was probably supposed to leave now, so he did. Walking to the bridge, Target stared at the upload screen that showed they were receiving thedaily upadate from Earth. Target's eyes glazed over as he stared off into nothing at the screen. He was thinking about covenant code. How it never made much sense. How it never made any sense. And how it might never make any sense. Suddenly a notice popped up on the screen and jolted Target out of his trance. "Error: Upload disrupted at source." Target's brows furrowed and he looked around, wondering what to do. Slowly, he walked over to the comm station and activated a couple of switches, starting to emit a low energy message signal to Earth.
"Earth this is the Enzo, our upload signal has been cut off, what is the problem."
Target switched off the comm and wondered what to do now. He had three hours to wait for it to get there, and three hours for the return message. Oh well, might as well go check up on Ora...

Ora looked over the new numbers, and looked to the
code sample he had written down. It still didn’t seem
to fit, something about it was wrong. He had always
thought that dividing the primary numerals down to
their absolute, then multiplying them would yield his
answer. But even still, though he thought he made a
break through, it turned out to be incorrect. Target
had suggested it was likely based on their doctrinal
manuscripts, as most other things were. Ora never
really thought it was likely, even researching the
Covenant religion, nothing seemed to turn up. But
then, he noticed a constant in their code with the
manuscripts. But not in the way Target predicted, but
rather in the manner of their page numbering. Though
he wasn’t sure exactly how, or even if it was just a
coincidence. But what he did know, was that the
Covenant manuscript is only numbered by Kullith, a
Covenant ancient numeration system, and not their
more modern version. Kullith has a modern Covenant
equivalent, unlike the Covenant modern, Kullith is
only counted in tens, fifties, or one-hundreds. No
ones or fives. It was originally developed to keep
track of large numbers of items, people, or such. It
was used as an intergalactic numeration for trade, and
basic speech when the races first met. It was easy to
teach, easy to speak, as well as convenient. From it, a
number of other terms then were developed from
these numbers. But Kullith remained the basic
numeric concept for the interspecies communication
before the Covenant was formed. This then; being
such a popular numerical concept, was used for the
early Covenant manuscripts, and still stayed in the
later versions. Ora then tried to use the Kullith
numeration and addition system, every fifty changing
the numeral to the fifty, or one-hundred
representation. But the trick was, to include a penny.
But without a one in the Covenant Kullith, it made
this at first seem impossible. But not if he instead of
trying to add zero-point-zero-one to the equation, he
counted every one of the seemingly random and
scattered numerals then for every single numeral
multiplied it by zero-point-zero-one percent, rounded
up to the nearest tenth, then took the entire sum of
numbers and changed them to the Covenant modern,
literate symbol, then spelled out the words to make
sentences and add spaces as necessary. He likely
would have never came to this conclusion except the
Covenant code had an untranslated portion with it
that had referred to any number of human articles that
were confiscated, which coincidently always had
human pocket change mixed in with it. So it would be
seemingly the perfect code if they somehow learned
the amount of human change, and pretended it was
mixed in with all other raid items, and acted as
though they didn’t know its purpose. But in truth,
used it to signal how many decimals to multiply the
covenant numerals and decode it. It seemed very
reasonable, still a long shot, but reasonable! “Gyro,
Gyro! I got it!” Ora yelled just as Target entered the
room. Ora then ran up to Target, his enthusiasm
assured it HAD to be right. Overwhelmed by the joy
he felt, he ran to Target and stopped. “I got it! Not
just the penny, but all of it! The change matters! If
multiplied by book and numbers, use decimals, and
round it up! You then turn it all over and add spaces!
Its perfect!” Ora now had Target by the shoulders,
shaking him almost violently as he nearly yelled.
Then letting go, he ran back to the table and grabbed
Gyro then bolted pass Target, nearly knocking the
man out of the way just to get through the door. All of
this leaving Target completely stunned many long
moments after he was gone.

Target walked into the room and was immediately greeted by Ora's enthusiatic topic. He listened carefully while being shook and thought about what he said. Several minutes after Ora left the peices clicked inside of his head. A penny, a decimal, he must have put it to the right as a decimal and rounded up. Target's mouth dropped open and he bolted to the bridge. Sprinting through the hallway's he jumped a vertical shaft and slid to a stop in front of the door. Pounding at it for not opening fast enough, he slipped through as soon as the crack was wide enough and exploded into the control room. Running up to the screen beside Ora he watched the calculations he was inputting and squinted at he paper underneth his arm. Yes, he WAS doing what Target assumed. Reaching down to the controls, Target began to input the proper sequencing equations that needed to be put on both decoding stations and finished a few seconds after Ora. Looking at each other they needed no voice to know what to do. Counting to three silently in their heads, they ech pressed a button and allowed it to scan their fingerprint's. The screens blinked twice and then went blank for 15 seconds. Target's open mouthed admiration and excitement soon turned into a frown. Then the screens clicked once more and whirred to life. Words started to scroll acorss the page in human text and continuously went faster as the computer learned from each word. Soon the whole screen was filled and going so fast Target couldnt read it. Sitting down, Target stared at the screen and sensed Ora sitting down in the other chair. The two of them sat there, reading for many hours, awed and impressed by the breakthrough. When they were finished Target smiled and turned to Ora. Likely he would understand what each word meant approximately, for the words were general terms, and Target was still trying to stream them together.


"Well," Said Target, "We have the penny, now how about the whole buck?"


Ora turned and smiled at Target, it seemed, that they were better at working together then he had once thought...

Soon, their monumental triumph was
interrupted. As all the screens halted, and
the main monitor came to life. Soon a voice
came from the ship. “Warning, possible
collision detected.” Ora then turned in his
chair, and tapped a few buttons. The monitor
then shifted to display the object in question.
A Covenant vessel. It seemed to be a scout
class jump ship, and it was in a ruined state.
It appeared a number of blasts were made
through it’s hull.

Ora then paused a moment, setting Gyro
down he tapped some more keys. Soon the
computer responded. “The target appears to
be a Covenant scout class jump ship. There
seems to be a number of breaches all along
the hull. Unusual.” The electronic female
voice paused. “All of these damaged areas
are Covenant. Even more unusual, is that
they all came from inside the ship.” Ora then
looked over at Target, and Target to Ora.
“Yes, it looks like they used plasma batteries
and practical burst canisters from their ships
main weapons. I wonder if it could be the
flood?” Ora and Target then looked to one
another, there eyes trading unspoken words
of concern. “Uhh, guys?” The computer
continued. “About that collision warning.”
Ora then looked over, but before his head
even finished its pivot, the ship then rattled
horrible, a deafening ‘bang’ accompanying it.
“Yeah, that. Well, I suppose you guessed
what happened. But what you don’t know is
that the collision breached out hull, and I
think that caused a fuel leak for the lateral
thrusters. We may want to look into that.”
Ora was the first to act. Punching in the
correct keys to cut all fuel to any of the
lateral thrusters, incase a spark somehow
managed itself down there, he didn’t want an
explosion.

Target watched as Ora stared at the screen. His mind was reeling. As sson as Ora took action, Target snapped out of his trance. Turning as Ora went to suit up and check the Slipspace Generator thats was perched deangerously close to the hull breach, Target pulled off a maintenance duct cover. Climbing downwards and across he headed for a small manual control room on the left side of the ship near where it was breached. Emerging into a dimly lit chamber he looked over the controls and screens that showed exact measurements of the impact. Target reached over and grabbed a lever and pulled down. Pressing a button he started a mechanism going that activated two huge hull plates going that were out on the ships hull. Slowly, they slid together over the damaged section and sealed with a hiss of steam and hydraulics. Sighing, Target turned on his microphone to talk to Ora.

"Alright, its sealed. Once you pressurize it, make sure the Generator is okay and then get the hell back here. This is something that must be sent back to O.N.I."

Target got no affirmation except a subtle change in radio static that told him that the message had been heard and acknowledged with a nod. Climbing out of the duct, Target heard a sound behind him in the duct; a shallow scraping noise, as if a metal boot had pulled back slightly. Target turned and grabbed up a pistol on the desk and leaned over into the duct, pointing the gun downwards: nothing. Turning, Target slowly set down the gun and secured that hatch door closed. Ora then walked into the control room and Target could tell by his demeanor, that things were not looking good with the generator.

"Oh, shit."

Ora nodded to Target’s remark, affirming him
that there was something wrong. “The slip-space
rupture generator seems to be damaged. I think it
is something inside the primary plasma
converter. And if that is so, then we will need a
replacement. I would suggest getting one from
storage room C, but it seems that is the one that
was breached in the collision. And I believe the
rapid change in temperature, and pressure likely
caused the spare to be damaged, rendering it
unusable. And if this is also the case, then our
only option is to salvage one.” Ora finished, his
voice calm and soft, his eyes intent as always.
“Oh, and don’t worry, I left Gyro upstairs to keep
an eye on the pressure levels, just incase the seal
breaches.” Ora added with a slight nod. He was
clearly nervous, as he wasn’t used to talking,
atleast not with people.

Target nearly exploded.

"What the hell is a lizard gonna do to save us?" Target sat down and set his head in his hands. "Damnit, damnit, damnit."

Target didnt swear this much usually, but it was an unusual time of stress for him. Straitening up he stood there for a second. He breathed in and out slowly.

"Alright, sorry about Gyro Ora. But the only place we are going to get a Slpispace Rupture Generator around here is floating outside and we need to get it before it falls out of its geosynchronous orbit." Target glanced at the screen briefly, "It will reach the keyhole in about eight hours so we dont have much time. The docking port was damaged and it needs to be repaired before we can get onto that thing unless we are going to go out into open space. What else should we do?"

Now that he was calm, Target was ready. But he had to work with Ora, not over him. He knew that Ora had a million suggestions, and he knew some of them could help. . .

Ora listened as Target spat. Hearing him yell
about Gyro caused Ora to cast his gaze to the
side with a scowl. He knew Target was probably
right, but it did offer Ora comfort until this point.
Target then apologized, Ora only glancing at
him, his scowl still present. Then, taking a deep
breath, he calmed himself, and looked back to
Target, who then laid out his ideas on the
situation. Then asked Ora for his own. Thinking
on it, Ora decided. “We should repair the
docking bay, it will be much easier to get the
eight foot plasma converter back here with a
pelican, rather then trying to push it back. Also
we will need the Pelican to carry some of the
equipment we will need to move it to the air
lock. As well as any cutting tools we may need to
open some of the damaged doors. And besides,
Gyro doesn’t have a space suet.” Ora said the last
bit with the same calm, strait face he had said
nearly everything lately.

Target was amazed at Ora's self-restraint and grimaced. He had nearly slapped himself for insulting Gyro but they didnt have much time right now.

"Alright, so you get the suits and I will get the tools." Target turned to the computer to speak to the on-board A.I. "Does the lift still work?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I need you to get it up to the mech level so that I can load it with parts and tools."

"Got it."




Target and Ora raced to fix their battered ship. All the while Target thought about how this ship had gotten there. When he got the mechanical tools down to the hangar level, Ora was waiting for him with suits ready and an extra anti-gravity panel on which to pile some of the extra from the overloaded one Target now carried. Slipping into their suits and making sure they were sealed, they said nothing. Once they were ready the triggered the depressurization sequence and entered the cold, lifeless docking level, which included the pelican hangar as well. Target and Ora pushed the anti-gravity panels over to the first and largest rupture.

"Well, lets get started."

Target grabbed up the zero-oxygen plasma welder from the panel.Ora hefted a large panel into position over the hole. A flame bellowed forth from the machine in Targets and an orange glow played over his helmet as he lowered it to the metal.

Gonna be a long day. . .

Six and a half hours later, the repairs finally were
finished. And Ora gathered the last of the
weapons and armor into the pelican as Target
finished moving the rest of the equipment back
onto the service lift. Target returning to the
vessel, Ora was there waiting. Placing his M90
“Komodo” variant into the weapon’s rack on the
wall within the pelican Ora started to explain.
“You and I both know that our space suits are
not capable of taking gun fire. And to ware them
into an active combat environment, is stupid at
best. While you were putting the rest of the
equipment away, I was conferring with the
computer-” Ora was then cut off by a female
voice over the speakers within the Pelican.

“Rena?” The voice suggested somewhat
sarcastically.

Ora glanced over, without a word in response, he
looked back to Target and continued. “And it
seems there is a large section of the ship that is
still, habitable. We will have to wear respirators
because the air in there is likely questionable, if
there is any at all. According to, Rena, there
there is the high possibility other Covenant are
still alive. So with, Rena’s, help I planned out a
rout that should keep us away from the damaged
sections. This path will take us to the Slip-space
engine room. This will allow us to see if we can
salvage their primary plasma converter. If not,
we will have to scavenge across the ship to find
where they might keep a replacement, and hope
where it was kept isn’t destroyed.” Ora finished,
removing the last of the suit. “Don’t worry. R-,
Rena says the interior of the ship is still
surprisingly warm. She thinks it is coming from
the primary reactor. As if it was damaged, it
could give off lot of heat. The com-, Rena also
says that the radiation is localized to only the
reactor room, and a couple adjacent rooms where
the radiation shielding was damaged. I myself
don’t trust computers, even Rena, but Gyro
seems to think so too, so I am willing to give the
computer a chance.” Ora added with a nod, them
smiling fondly as he brushed his hand over the
polished chrome of the barrel, his fingers sliding
over the etchings of various Varanus
Komodoensis. And one image of a sand monitor,
likely Gyro.

The reparations of the docking bay and hangar holes had taken nearly seven hours. This meant that they had only one hours before the covenant ship reached the Keyhole; The lowest point an object can get to before it must go down through the atmosphere on the next revolution. Target and Ora suited up with respirators and armor, Target had to borrow Ora's backup chest plate. Target pulled his souped up M9x pistol from his locker and looked it over. It was still perfectly fine, all of its oversized rounds were in place so Target slipped it into a side holster he had fashioned. He only carried this small weapon because, no matter how much training he had, no matter how good he was at plotting coordinates in space and blasting things from the sky with Magnetic Accelerator Cannon rounds, he was still the worst shot ever with normal, projectile, handheld weapons. Target had developed an eye disease five years ago, that porgressivle caused his body to attack his own retinal cells. It had been caught a bit too late to make sure no damage resulted, and Target's vision range now varied from fifteen to twenty five feet. He had almost a secade of medication stored on the Enzo, and that was what kept it at bay. It was treatable, but not reversible. If he went more then ten hours without this medication, his antibodies kicked in again, and started in on his eyes. When this happened at first the retinal shock would blind him for a number of minutes, and then it would return, slowly. Luckily, this only happened when he hadnt had his medicine for a while and very occasionally when the antibodies adapted to fight, and he had to increase his dosage. Whatever the reason, he needed this weapon. This pistol would not blow them up if he missed and shot close enough for splash damage. It would also destroy anything he managed to get a shot in on.

Target sat down in the Pelican's control seat, bringing it up and out of the hangar. The Pelican drew nearer and the hulking derilect grew larger as Target brought the Pelican around on its lateral axis. Down on Kess'nho it would have looked like a monumentally important event. A large shudder and hiss told Target that they were attached to the Covenant ship. Standing up, he and Ora walked up to the door, pulling two anti-grav panels behind them. Slowly, Target triggered the door and watched as it slid open sliently. Ora's eyes shifted as the pair walked slowly into the darkened vessel.

Upon connecting with the craft alien craft, Ora
got up from his seat and grabbed his M90
‘Komodo’. Checking the outside pressure and
oxygen via the onboard control panel. Ora then
figured it was safe enough. Making sure his
armor was strapped on tightly he looked to
Target, who was doing the same. Opening the
back hatch, a sharp hiss of the decompressing
hydraulics echoed down the dark halls. Steam
emitted by hatch pooled across the metal grating
of the pelican’s flooring as the back dropped
open, now forming a ramp into the gloomy
depths of the forsaken vessel. Ora held his hand
up a moment to Target, then pulled his combat
shotgun into a focused aim. Allowing his eye to
peer along the top of the weapon, lining up the
sights of the weapon. Ora then stepped out
slowly, sweeping the room with his weapon as he
moved. Nothing. Overturned storage containers
and damaged vehicles. Glancing around, he saw
no signs of activity. Raising a hand, he motioned
for Target to fallow him with the equipment after
sealing the pelican. Moving into the primary
junction which connected the docking bay with
the rest of the ship. Ora and Target saw nothing
but blast marks and wrecked equipment littering
the halls. Now approaching the opposite door,
Ora looked back at Target. “Turn on the active
motion tracker.”

Target then turned to Ora. “It is on. There isn’t
anything here, not yet anyway.”

Ora then returned his gaze to the door, not sure
what he was expecting out of Target. But
somehow feeling that a blank motion tracker
wasn’t comforting. “Keep an eye on it, I don’t
want us to have any surprises . . .”

Target only nodded in response. Then looked
back to the motion tracker. Looking to the door,
Ora opened it. Looking inside he was met with a
security checkpoint. There seemed to be heavy
pieces of equipment thrown about, some peices
blocking doors, and others smashed against
walls. Blood as well as small bits of carnage
seemed smeared over the flooring and walls. Ora
then glanced over it all a moment, taking it all in.
“Gyro, where do you think happened here?” He
asked over the radio, waiting a moment for
response.

Soon the radio came back to life, a voice coming
back through it. “Perhaps there was an
accident?” A female voice guessed.

“Your not Gyro! Put him back on this radio this
instant!” Ora protested.

The holographic image of Rena stood on the
control panel on the bridge of the Enzo, looking
over at the sleeping reptile. “I think he is a bit
busy at this time, can I take a message?” Sarcasm
clearly evident in her voice.

“No I will not leave a message with you! Put
Gyro back on this instant you crooked piece of
software!” Ora insulted, fed up with her sarcasm,
and wanting only to speak with his ‘pet’.

She then looked over at the sleeping Reptile, and
shook her head. “Look, he’s out like a light.
What do you want me to do, kick him off the
table?”

Ora snorted. “Perhaps a slight bit of vociferation
close to the audio receiver canal on the side of
his neural processing partition might be enough
to register your presence?” Ora suggested
sarcastically, giving emphasis on the
unnecessarily long words and descriptors he used
in mockery of the computer A.I..

She then sighed. Leaning down to the reptile she
tried to coax it awake. Meanwhile Ora continued
into the room, muttering to himself in his native
language. This time, there still was little to show
for opposition. Moving to the next room, it was
again, empty of all life. This continued,
occasional displays of blood across the walls.
Now, they made it to the primary Slip-space
engine’s maintenance room. Walking in, they
saw the primary plasma converter, resting inside
the flux field transfer conduit. After checking the
room, and finding again, no opposition. They
started to remove the device. “Target.” Ora
started. “Have you noticed? Through all the
sections we made it through, we haven’t seen
one body. Not one Covenant corpse anywhere.
This is starting to really unnerve me.”

Target at this time had any number of tools in his
mouth, holding them as he rapidly exchanged
them, working on disconnecting the plasma
converter from its place. Only able to nod to Ora
in response, he was still quite surprised the man
was talking to him like this, using his call sign
even. This was defiantly a historical day.

Later they disconnected the plasma converter,
Target directing the operation. Then laid it on the
anti-grav pad. Target then turned to Ora, still
thinking over what he was to say. “I think we
should try to find their spare, just incase there is
something wrong with this one. Any idea how
we could locate it?”

Ora thought over it a moment, then looked up.
“Well, I could always try to access the ship’s
manifest, and see if the kept a record of where it
was.”

Target nodded. “Then lets do that, there should
be an operational terminal back at that security
checkpoint.”

Later, after loading the plasma converter onto the
pelican, and returning to the security checkpoint,
Ora tried to access the computer. “Rena, is Gyro
up yet? I could use his help.”

The computer A.I. Sighed. “Yes, he is up, and
sitting right here looking as enthused as ever.”

Ora ignored her sarcasm this time. “Ora, any
idea how to get into the ships manifest?”

After a long moment of silence, there was a
quick click in the static, then fallowed moments
later by Rena’s voice. “Ora, tell your lizard to
stay off the equipment.”

Ora ignored her, typing as though he already
received his answer. “Found it!” Ora smiled. “It
is just two halls down from us. About two
hundred feet from out position in storage room
thirty-three.”

Target smiled. “Maybe we can find it and get out
of here, this place is giving me the creeps.”

Later, they came upon the storage room. Black
scoring blistered the paint on the alloy door.
Blood coated it, and ran down it’s surface. Bits
of flesh and mangled pieces of gore clung to it,
giving a dire warning of what lay beyond.
Opening it, Ora took point, a combat flashlight
hung below the barrel active, casting light over
the storage containers. A eerie mist seemed to
lay, enshrouding the metallic floor in a yellowish
haze. Entering cautiously, Ora spoke softly.
“Maybe we should go back.” But before an
answer could be given, a scraping sound came
from the shadows. Turning, Ora shined his
flashlight on to the direction of the shadows.
They watched, the sound came again, its source
obscured by a large stack of containers. Ora held
his breath, waiting for their foe to become
known. Within moments, a twisted, insect-like
shrill came from every direction as the brutalized
form of an elite made it’s way about the
container, then set it’s sights on the two. Ora
then lined it up quickly, placing it’s body in his
sights. Pulling the trigger, the massive slug
roared from the barrel, instantaneously fallowed
by a burst of flame. The massive piece of led
then punched it’s way through the beasts
abdomen, ripping it in half. Without shields to
protect it, and bypassing it’s armor, it was easy
prey. Turning, he then spotted more of them
charging from behind any number of storage
containers. Target yelled a moment in shock,
only vocalizing Ora’s same feelings on the
situation. Backing up, Target fired the M9X, the
14.5mm rounds punching strait into the combat
forms, only to pass through the other side and
ricochet off the storage containers. Ora then fired
again, another massive roar came forth, the
weapon forcing itself against his shoulder,
pulling itself up into the air some. Pulling it back
down, he quickly fired again, backing up to the
door. Target already waiting for him.

Target was horrified by the creatures coming at him. They were appiritions from the deepest horrors of his mind. Backing up he fired wildly into the crowd of fatally spongy things. Feeling behind him he found the door frame he heard Ora fire a couple of times into the hellstorm of reanimated bodies. Watching him turn, Target stepped across the partition to the hallway, and fumbled with the panel as Ora began to sprint for the door. Target saw that one of the things was on his heels. Waiting for the right moment, he gave Ora a look that said plainly what to do. Ora jumped through the air and through the open space as Target pressed the Close button. The door slid shut and locked on the thing that had tried to travel through it behind Ora. Target lifted his hands to his face as this thing squeezed slowly. It deformed, then resumed shape, and then deformed again. Then, with a sickening splatter, popped all over Target.

Ten seconds later the pair was running down the hall, shutting all doors behind them. Target was covered in a green slime, that seemed to have gotten in his eyes, mouth, and nose. He didnt know how, but somehow the blast of the exploding form had knocked his breathing apparatus from him. His slippery shoes were lined with gunk that made him trip at nearly every bump in his path. Horrified, they ran, stumbling to get away from these things. Target spat repeatedly, and blew his nose, screwing up his eyes blowing so hard. Finally, Target waved Ora through one last door and turned to lock the partition device. Behind them, he saw shadows leaping and hurling themselves forwards. His hands shaking, Target pressed the close button, and pulled an electronic device from his pocket. Reching over he slapped it onto the door and watched as it realeased hundreds of codes into the door system that overloaded the conduits, and caused it to freeze all signals other then the one it was currently set on; closed. Target watched as he was stepping out of the door. Ora had run over to the control station and starting releasing the docking clamps. Target had one thing on his mind as he ran to the lift. The machine took him to the one level he wanted to go; the fire control room. Sighing, he sat down at the singal screen and ignored the sludge he was getting on the keyboard. The screen showed the covenant ship as it released from the Enzo. Steadying his hands, Target typed in the coordinates of where the vessel would soon arrive. Counting down he set the timer. Five, four, three, two one, Enter. As Target hit the button a Magnetic Accelerated Cannon round exploded through space from the Enzo. A millisecond later and the covenant vessel was no longer more then ionized particles.

Ora didn’t remove his respirator, but simply
watched Target with caution. Soon a voice
started from Rena. “Target. What is that you
have all over you?”

Before Target could reply Ora spoke.
“Something from some kind of flood form I
guess you would call it. It exploded all over him,
knocking his respirator off.”

Rena paused a moment. “You do know that
could be a very bad thing . . . Ora, get your lizard
out of here now, and don’t take off your
breathing apparatus.” Ora did as she asked,
putting Gyro back in his cage. Rena in the mean
time watched Target intently. “Alright, I need
you to listen to me. You are, at this time, a bio-
hazard to this entire crew. Even the lizard. Don’t
do anything stupid now.” She ended in a threat,
giving it a moment to settle it, she resumed. “The
ship has filters sophisticated enough to filter
flood spores, but as for you. Well, the only thing
I can think of is immediate antibiotic treatment.
For you and the Lizard. I estimate that if you
move fast, you ‘might’ stand a fifty percent
chance of surviving the infection. And a ten
percent chance of it not enhancing your current
illness and blinding you more now then you
already are.” Rena then sighed. “If I had the
means, I would kill you for bringing that
onboard. You know, the Lizard has a higher
chance of survival then you at this time. And
now I will also have to sanitize the room after
you leave. You have just compromised the ship,
and it’s crew. And if this was a ‘real’ ship, with a
‘real’ crew, you would have just insured the
deaths of at least three percent of its members.
Think about that next time before you come
charging onto deck after a close encounter with
the flood like that. You know the standard
sanitation procedures. Now hurry up and get that
taken care of, and don’t contaminate the rest of
the medical supplies.” With that, she ended,
allowing him to rush to the medical room. Then
drowning the room in Haylon, after that, filling it
with a ‘sanitizing’ vapor that would dehydrate,
and kill nearly all known forms of bacteria and
viral infections.

Targetwas pissed. Rena was mad at him for not recognizing the Flood, which by the way he had never seen before, and Ora could get infected. But a fifty percent chance of recovery was pretty damned good. Alrady Target's eyes were fogging up a bit. His immune system was drifting off elswhere to fight other things then blindness. Running to the Medical Room, he entered the one chamber that nothing could get out fo but people through the door, and bacteria from death. Slowly, he walked over to a shower stall that was there for cleaning up, and dumped his clothing in an incineration tube. Walking over, he steeped under the head and he was immediately barraged by scalding hot water. Surprised and shaken, he managed not to yelp but to endure the process of getting used to the warmth of the water. Getting out the water which was filled with watered down viral and bacterial destroyers, he slipped onm a paper gown that was hangin on the wall. At least it was over the head so his ass didnt stick out. . . Sitting down on the one chair in the room, he watched as a tray came out of the wall holding a full syringe of antibiotics; triple the recomended amount. Sighing, Target grabbed it up, found a vein, and got ready for the sickness of detox. . .

Rena’s voice came to him through the main
speakers. “You can be mad at me all you want,
but you know that it is standard procedure to be
sanitized after returning from a derelict vessel of
alien origin, ESPECIALLY if you get splattered
with an unknown substance while your there . . .”

Mean while, Ora was being instructed in how to
sanitize Gyro, and give him the proper injection.
Now in a clean room, Ora worked carefully,
talking to Gyro softly, trying to keep the reptile
calm. There was little he could be to do other
then fallow the computers instructions. He did
all he could, with as stable hands as possible.

Target was still sitting in the chamber several hours later. Around him, the glaringly white walls had faded to grey. He thought that maybe the environmental systems were malfunctioning. Looking around, he didn’t see anything else wrong with the temperature or humidity of the environment.

"Rena, is there anything wrong with the lights?"


An annoyed voice spoke, "No. Why?"


Target looked around and blinked furiously. Nothing changed at all. Looking around again, his vision faded a bit more. Within seconds everything was pitch black. After a brief pause and another round of blinking as fast as he could, Target slumped against the wall. Sighing, he accepted the darkness as his friend.


"Nothing Rena. Its just. . . you were right about my eyesight."


A slightly amused and triumphant sound came from speakers and Target grimaced. He had known this could occur, and he was ready for it. He would most likely lose his vision, and he had prepared himself enough that he could control his fear, and accept the fact that he might never see again. Lying down in the now black room, he slept, and darkness descended.




A terrible screaming awoke Target; he struggled upwards a few seconds before realizing that it was his own shriek of absolute fear. An utter wail of despair ripping from his lips. Collapsing onto the ground, he screamed louder as he felt the pain in his chest, as he saw the danger in him and knew it couldnt be beat. Stunned and paniced into pure helplessness, he flopped around the unseen floor. Descending amongst this chaos of raw terror and pain, sleep overtook Target.





"You there, defend that door.” An alien voice said, "We can’t let the flood take out our slipspace generators."

Target nodded in obedience. Walking to the door, he took up a fighting stance. To his right, also ready, were seven more Elites. Looking down, Target saw his elongated fingers and hands. Somehow, he understood how they fit. Wrapping his hands around a Plasma Rifle, he looked up at the bend in the corridor in front of him. The squad of Covenant stood stock still, almost as statues, for several minutes. Not a sound issued anywhere. Then, a ventilation duct clattered to the floor from the ceiling. All eight Elites brought their weapons up at once, ready to fire upon whatever came from the darkness beyond the light that entered the duct. Their sights were steadied for firing upwards, only to have to bring them back down again when a crowd of flood took this opportunity to rush from the corridor turn. Target put a bolt through one's head, and was delighted at his hit for a moment until the combat form kept on coming. He shot wildy at it, hoping and praying to the Prophets to deliver him from this evil, until a pulped mass finally fell dead on the ground only feet before him. However, behind that one, from the space left by the now dead creature, another combat form emerged. Again, Target sprayed energy bolts rapidly until the attacker was a bloody mass. Nevertheless, another was there. Every one of the Elitese experienced something similar for a few moments, until one ran out of energy cell power, and was quickly engulfed. Soon, others were being overtaken in a flailing mass of reanimated bodies. Target backed into a corner, firing wildly. A sudden blow to the side of his head dazed him, and he felt something warm and slimy fall into his hands. Looking down, he saw a bit of helmet under a grey, bloody mass. Shuddering, he tried to figure out what it was, until he realized that the right half of his brain was lying in his very own hands. As Target stood there, horrified, he was swarmed over and covered by an uncountable foe. His vision faded out and darkness resumed.

Target got up. Many, many flood were now standing idly around, paying not a bit of attention to him. Confused, he looked around and saw a group of flood gathered around a door. A sign over it read "Spare Parts." Lurching forward, Target shoved into the group. He suddenly realized that in his hand he carried some type of card. Pushing through the other flood, he arrived at the door. Automatically inserting the card into a slot as if he had known to do this, he watched as a light placed above the door coalesced from red to green, and opened quickly. The shuffle to get inside was hazardous, but all of them braved it willingly. Once Target was inside, he looked around yet again. He was looking for a place to hide in wait. Seeing a place above the door that seemed very advantageous, he hopped up onto a small ledge and wrapped his long, whiplike tentacles around a couple of columns for support.

Target stayed like that for three days, poised in the same position, not moving, not doing anything but waiting. One thing in his mind drove him. Nagging instructions that told him what to do. A far-off link to a far more powerful mind. While he waited, he loathed. Darkly, he despised that which he was to kill, and that which he wasn’t supposed to kill. Target hated everything the same, but the for-off link kept him from attacking everything in sight. It channeled his anger into waiting. A slight jolt in the ships gravity told him that the trajectory had changed. His body, which had slackened slightly over the long wait, resumed its carefully judged position from which to pounce. Target was ready for another sentient to come through that door, and he would not be disappointed.

A half an hour later, two men walked through the door under Target. He watched them slowly enter, and decided to wait until they were further inside the chamber to attack. Waiting, silently, he observed as the pair stopped just inside, spooked by the furtive movements in the room. A flood form suddenly jumped from the shadows and was gunned down by a very large blast from a shotgun held by the shorter of the pair. Not fazed in the slightest, Target dropped down as the two men retreated. One of them fired off a short burst of pistol rounds, and then backed out of the door, beginning to fumble with the controls. Target sprinted after the one with the shotgun and watched as he jumped through the closing door. Target screamed a cry of pure hatred as he leaped at the rapidly shrinking opening.

Searing pain met his assault on the exit. He felt as if he were being crushed into oblivion. Resisting, Target pushed outward in a futile attempt to survive the crushing force, and thenn surrendered all power.

He had a million eyes. Three hundred and sixty degrees all around, he saw where he was traveling in every way. One section in particular blasted forward with happiness. Each particle roared in success as it traveled to the desired opening. Triumphantly, Target took over the spores that were entering the mans mouth. Suddenly, he was traveling quickly through the fluids and tissues of the body he had entered.

Darkness. Pure and utter darkness met him. Target was in the man's mind. Looking around, Target found that he could dredge up things that somehow told him information. Things that allowed him to change this information. None of it had any understandable information, just pure instinct. Target found something that appeared to govern cell structure, and realized that this was exactly what he had been looking for. Target roared in happiness and began twisting the very make-up of the DNA in this human's body. But, as he was just starting his manipulation, a wave of resistance slammed against, and immobilized him completely.

Target struggled. He struggled against this force that resisted him. Losing ground slightly, he could feel his life slipping away. Nevertheless, he could beat it, he had to. Struggling, he shifted through the mind. Searching, and not finding, he gave a shriek of absolute pain as the force renewed its assault with vigor. He lost control of his memories, and they flooded awayto show what they may. His thoughts passed on and his identity morphed slowly.

Target watched. During the final memory, he started to realize, started to see a dim outline of what was happening. This was his mind becoming one with the evil that inhabited him. He fought. He looked deep into his mind, and found festering pits of deep, degrading horror. He fought against them. As he fought, he began to do things he couldn’t before. His bloodstream thinned at will, antibiotics rushed inwards at the festering horror. These clumps of evil shrank, and began to break apart. Target was in complete agony. He was completely blinded by the fighting, and he still couldn't stop. His mind wouldn't stop attacking. Target searched for relief. Searched while he obliterated the evil with assault after assault. Finally finding something, adrenaline rushed through his system, and suppressed the pain that pulsed through him. his mind fought again, without regard for torture or fear. He fought.

And slowly, haltingly, he won. . .

Target yet again awoke. His head must have been trying to kill him. Looking around, memory flooded back in a rush of pain and agony. He wasn’t yet sure if he was awake, since he couldn’t see anything. However, he knew that if he could ponder over whether or not he was awake, he was awake. The gloom that enshrouded him started to evanesc into light. Squinting slightly, Target got up. He could see, but something wasn’t right. His vision was a bit fuzzy, and too dark. It looked as if he had a black veil over his eyes. Sadly, he knew that wasn’t true. . .

A voice issued from speakers. "Are you okay?" Ora spoke slowly and deliberately.

Rena's voice poked through. "Is it you?"

Target eyed the room a bit crazily. "Yes, I am fine. But I need my medicine. My eye medicine. Now. A box. A case. A whole case."

The microphone clicked as if someone had been about to say something. A case was a weeks supply of medicine. Target lay on the floor, feeling the pain in his head recede slowly. He thought that they were going to leave him be, but a small box suddenly slid out on a tray. Standing up, Target walked over to the box and picked up one of the needles beside it. Opening the case, he pulled a vial of serum with a clink and filled the needle. Finding a vein in his arm, Target injected the serum. Again, he filled the needle, and injected it. His vision stabilized alrogether and Target sighed. That was double the dosage, he would be a bit lightheaded for a while. . . Putting down the needle, he turned and looked around the room. It was now he noticed that half of it was covered in the foulest of things to come from a human body. Issuing a disgusting noise, he pressed a button, and watched the box slide back into the wall.

"Rena, you have to flush this room with water. Hot water. Hot water with lots of antibacterial. LOTS. The wont hurt me if they go over my skin and I will shower again after. But this needs to be ejected into space.

A slight click over the intercom told Target the he was acknowledged, and a barrage of water jetted from the ceiling and filled the room in seconds. When it was sompletely full, all of the stuff that had been on the floor was thoroughly washed away, and the room drained. Target stood, dripping wet, under the shower to wash the burning from his skin. As he did so, something in his brain clicked, and his adrenaline levels rose, blocking out most of the pain. Shocked, he ran to a mirror where he saw his pupils dilate from the burst of speed and energy he had.

"Ora, is it at all possible that I can control my adrenaline? Because when I was in my mind, it seemed like I could do that and also thin or thicken my blood at will. Is that even possible because I think I just did it. . ."

Ora paused a moment, the information all
settling in. But before he could even completely
set in, Rena spoke. “It’s hard to say. The flood
spores that infected you tried to rewrite your
DNA coding. This means that anything could
have happened. However, it is known to us that
the flood do have the ability to manipulate brain
cells, and then eventually gain complete control
over the brain. It usually starts within the Limbic
region of the Cerebrum, encouraging irrational
behavior commonly associated with severe
paranoia. It then also starts to infect the
Hypothalamus to increase body temperature to
further the infectious process. Then, once the
active there, the infection will move on to the
Precentral Gyrus of the frontal lobe, which
controls voluntary actions contractions of
spacific muscles, or muscle groups. This allows
the flood to first; render the subject violent, and
seeking escape. This causes the subject to flee
allies who may try to help them, buying the flood
more time to work. Also, it is more likely that
allies will be injured during this escape attempt,
or in attempt to rescue them. Next, it then starts
the incubation process, where it will increase the
subject’s body temperature to aid in the
reproduction of infectious viral bacteria,
allowing the flood to work more quickly. Then it
moves to take over muscular movements so that
it can eventually render the subject unable to
control it’s own body until the rest of physical
changes take place. You seemed to have had all
three of these beginning phases take place in
your brain. Now other changed did seem to take
place, and could have linked some functions to
more sensitive emotional states. This means that
even becoming mildly angry, or afraid can likely
cause an adrenal reaction. Now I mind you, this
isn’t healthy, and can likely ware your body out
and cause premature death is used too often. If
you don’t control your emotional state, you could
accelerate your bodies aging process and shorten
your average like expectancy by as much as sixty
percent. Meaning you could die at about the age
of forty. As adrenalin can severely stress the
body, which can simulate aging, giving grey hair,
and ruining body functions. So please be careful
with it.” Rena finished, her tone warning. “I
don’t know exactly what all happened to you, as
this is a scout vessel, not a medical craft. I don’t
have the proper equipment to figure out all of the
changes that had taken place, so if something
else happens, don’t start saying ‘Rena! My finger
fell off! Why didn’t you tell me this would
happen!’ Because I don’t know what will happen
to you. Bu-"

Rena paused, cutting herself off as she stood on
the desk next to Ora in the operation room silent.
Soon, Rena changed the subject, her voice
greatly concerned. “Ora, did you put that lizard
of yours back in it’s cage?”

Ora looked over at her a moment, then replied.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Rena paused again, then answered. “Because,
someone just opened the cafeteria room door.”

Ora grabbed his M90 ‘Komodo’ which leaned
against the desk next to him. Standing he moved
over to the door. “Rena, don’t you have a camera
in that section?”

“Yes.” Rena paused. “But it went down about
three minutes ago. I assumed it was just a power
surge from the reactor, as with the Slip Space
Rupture generator off line, it is expected that
some minor systems would experience power
surges. I am still waiting for the circuit to
register green again so I ca make contact with the
device and restart it.” Ora then checked the
weapon just to be sure it was loaded, then
opened the door. “Ehh, Ora.” Rena started. “I
don’t know if you want to go shooting anything
with that thing.”

Ora then looked over at her. “Why?”

“Because, this ship’s interior walls were not
made to take gun fire. And that weapon is likely
to put a whole through something even if you hit
your target.” Rena warned again, causing Ora to
sigh quietly.

“Well, if it is a hostile, I doubt they will have the
same courtesy for our ship as your asking of him
Rena.” Target noted, hearing there conversation.

“True . . .” Rena speculated. “Well, I suppose
you will have to be able to defend yourself
somehow.” Rena thought a moment before
coming up with a solution. “In the weapon
storage room just to doors down, there is a Ex-
13-B flame thrower. It jets flames about twenty
feet, which are hot enough to turn titanium to
butter in moments. That should do the trick, plus
if you do hit the walls, you will stand a far less
chance of damaging something. I warn you
though, the Ex-13 is heavy. And it contains only
enough fuel for about twenty seconds of
sustained flame. It will only take about two to
kill an elite with shields, but anything without
shields will be ashes and soup within a moment
after contact. You will have to ware a breathing
apparatus, as the toxins produced by the flames
are very dangerous. Also, a flame resistant, floor
length coat would be recommenced as well. And,
I have also sealed the mess hall, so whatever it
was, cant escape.”

Target then spoke up. “What about me?”

Rena chuckled a moment. “Yes, your considered
sanitary to leave quarantine. I would say
otherwise, except you are an invaluable member
of this crew, and Ora will need a set of eyes on
his back. I also think there is an old nine
millimeter, hand gun with some hollow-point
rounds you could use. Which, unlike the M90,
and the M9-X, wont easily penetrate the walls of
the ship.” Rena ended, opining the quarantine
room and allowing Target to move into the
observation room.

Target grunted quietly in surprise to Rena opening the door for him. Walking out quickly, he headed for the vertical corridor that lead to the armory level. Making sure his cotton medical gown didnt flap, he jumped above the shaft, and slid down the corridor. A unique sense of vertigo from the sudden and intense change of gravity gave him butterflies. Sliding to a stop in front of the armory door, he heard Ora burst into the corridor behind him. Target stood up and entered the access code into the armory. Ora entered slightly behind him, and Target headed to a shelf. The room was rectangular in shape, and had many shelves lined against the walls. Half of them were empty, only fully stocked once in the Enzo's lifetime. On the shelf, Target pulled a green, long-sleeve sweatshirt and an identically colored pair of sweatpants, along with socks, underwear, and a green pair of leather boots. When he had dressed, Target went over to a shelf that Ora was already in front of. Pulling out a shoulder gun-sling, Target flipped it over his arm while he watched Ora strap on a waist level supporting strap for the flamethrower. After setting the Flamethrower on the support strap, it was balanced perfectly to pivot and move without working your arms on the heavy mahcinery. Target pulled a .44 Magnum from a rack and stared down the barrel.

"Nice."

Slipping the weapon into the holster, Target saw Ora nod in apreciation. This gun design may be old, but it was still powerful enough to pack a punch, but not enough to blow through the ships hull. Target smiled at Ora's answer. Target and Ora slipped on respirators and some fire-proof gowns and exited the armory and headed for the cafeteria. As they approached the door, Rena appeared on a hologram pad beside it. Turning to stare at the door, she grimaced slightly.

"Opening door in five, four. . ."

Target and Ora took up position on either side of the door.

"Three, two, one. . ."

The door slid open with a hiss of hydraulics, and light poured into the dark space beyond. Target motioned with his gun for Ora to enter first. Ora stepped inside and swept the gun around as the lights activated. Target entered after and looked around, the room was completely empty. Ora lowered the gun about an inch and walked over to the food device. As Ora examined the machine, Target walked over to a station that monitered and purified drinking water. Suddenly, Targets poor eyesight flashed breifly, and an automatic reaction made him duck and swing around as a tentacle snapped from an impossibly small place between the wall and purifying machine, that no man could fit in. Backing up and firing wildly, Target watched as the creature squirmed from the crack and gaped at him.

"Oh shit."

Target fired again as Ora closed within twenty feet to fire. . .

Ora moved forward, watching the
Misshapen monstrosity grip hold and drag
Target to itself. Ora ran over, kneeling
down just ahead of Target, who was
making every effort to pull away. As he
dropped to his knees, Ora used the
movement to add power as he brought the
back end of the flame thrower down on
the beast’s tentacle. The weight of the
weapon smashed into the persisting
appendage, crushing it against the steel
grating that made up much of the floor.
Ora then pulled a knife from his boot and
slashed into the resilient tissue. The
creature then let go and forced itself from
it’s place, just before running into the
cooking area and diving out of sight
behind the counter. Ora looked over at
Target, then back to the counter, shaking
his head Ora didn’t wait for Target to get
up, but simply stood and moved two about
seventeen feet from the counter, and then
cut loose with the flame thrower. With
both Target, and Ora equipped with
respirators, like Rena suggested, they were
safe from the toxic fumes of the flame
thrower, and melting materials. A shriek
was heard from the inhuman life form as
the counter melted on contact. Smoke
filled the room as flames towered to the
ceiling. Rena held off the Hylon system
while they waited to see if anything would
move. Withing moments, Rena allowed it
to activate, and soon the room was filled
with the vaporous gas, and the fire
extinguished. There was very little sign of
anything left, even the floor melted
through at various sections into the sub-
level. Ora looked to Target, who was only
three feet behind him, gun ready and
aimed, waiting for any movement.

Target waited until the haylon systems had deactivated. Standing up, he and Ora slowly moved around in a circle until they were standing and looking down the counter space. Nothing was left but a large hump of melted metaland masses of bubbles popping up from the floor. Waling forward, the two kept their weapons trained. Targets eyes were as horrible as ever, and his hands were moving back and forth as he tried to find a purchase to rest his aim on in the flickering light. The two walked forward and moved their guns about, seeing nothing in their total overview. Target sighed, and slid against the wall in relief when nothing showed up. Finally he closed his eyes and rubbed them to relieve the pain from staring so much. . .

Ora turned to Target a moment, glancing over
him as he knelt down next to him. Not asking a
single question, he simply looked him over.
Finally, the silence was broken as Ora spoke.
“Are you hurt?” Target looked up at him a
moment, and thinking a minute, he then decided
to reply. But before his reply could escape his
lips, Ora spoke up again. “We should probably
head back if your not hurt, Gyro is probably
worried . . .” At this, Target could only shake his
head. A Flood somehow mannaged it’s way onto
their ship, their slip-space rupture generator still
needed to be fixed, not to mention the kitchen is
now destroyed, and all Ora can think about is his
lizard. Target then nodded to Ora, a silent “Yes.”
to his prior question. Ora then reached down and
helped him to his feet before heading to the door.

Target was alright. He nodded and let Ora help him up. His eyes had restored to their new normal again, and the two walked out of the room. Target thought that he should probably show more compassion to the lizard, it did show human characteristics every once in a while. . . He walked alongside Ora and they arrived at Ora's quarters. Target followed Ora in and they moved over to the cage. Target stared in at the sand moniter, and it stared back. Obviously, it hadnt had the hell Target had.

"Lucky bastard."

". . ." Gyro flicked his tongue noncommitally. Obviously, he was quite happy with the turnout.

Target was slightly surprised at how this could be enterpreted, but all that had happened today, he wouldt be surprised if Ora was right about him talking. . .

“There you are!” Ora seemingly chimed with
glee as he stepped over to the cage and opened
it. The sand monitor sat there, his’s tail
flicking about excitedly as Ora removed him
from his cage. Ora then healed the Lizard to
himself and turned to Target. “Lets get that
Plasma inducer fixed.” Moving out of the
room, Target and Ora headed to the Slip-
Space Rupture Generator. Ora then looked
over the part he had moved in here prior to
Target’s recovery. “Not I had already started
to work on it. But because I am not an expert
in this, progress was slow. The only reason I
manage to make any head way was because of
Rena’s step-by-step instructions. I am good
with electronics, and mannaged to get the
SSRG’s main CPU off line and cut the power
to it’s Bipolar Field Generator so we could
hopefully cut down on power surges.” Ora
paused a moment, just realizing Target had
already started. Looking at the fellow marine,
he saw any number of tools clamped within
his teeth, and laid over any number of areas
around him. Ora sighed, mumbling to himself
about the number of tools, and how he never
understood why there had to be so many.

Working on it, many long hours later, Target
locked in the last ECA, or Electronic Circuit
Accelerator, and sealed the servo junction just
left of the device. Target then smiled ad
turned to Ora, his face coated in a black
metallic soot like resin from a converter flux
as he connected the power only moments
earlier. Which was always a risk, as the
Reactor of the ship was impossible to shut
down, and it would normally be hours of work
just shutting off the secondary converter. And
the flux wasn’t life threatening, so chancing
one was a common short cut, and with as bad
off as his eyes were, the risk of eye damage
wasn’t a big concern to him. Ora smiled at
Target slightly, as the marine gave him a nod.
With that, Ora started the plasma inducer and
locked in the start up procedure of the SSRG.
As the start up commenced, it clicked through
all of it’s system checks, before eventually
starting itself. With a loud hum, both marines
remained hopeful there work would hold.
Soon, the hun reached it’s climax, and a loud
“Click” was heard as the sub-systems of the
device all switched online, and power fed to
the hulking piece of Covenant machinery.
And then, the all the lights, systems,
machinery, and computers cut out, as power
suddenly withdrawn from the ship. Soon, red
backup lights came to life as the ship moved
to secondary power mode, feeding from the
Reactor, but though less conspicuous, and less
capable channels. Ora and Target then looked
to one another, surprised. Ora what the first to
speak. “Rena, what happened . . .”

Silence then filled the room, but was soon
dispelled by a voice crackling in over the low
powered speakers. “I am not sure. Though I
detected a powerful fluctuation somewhere
near the Reactor. I think the sudden draw of
power might have overloaded something.
Either popped a breaker, or fried some wires. I
can’t say for sure.”

Ora then turned to Target. “You keep working
here, I’ll go take a look at it. And if I come
across a mechanical problem that Rena can’t
guide me through, I will signal for you.” Ora
said more then sudgested as he picked up
Gyro and his M90, along with a tool belt.
Then heading to the door he started to talk
to Gyro, leaving Target alone with only Rena's
voice to keep him company.

"A real team player isn't he?" Rena commented
once the door was sealed, trying to start
conversation at Ora's expence.

As Ora talked, Target checked over what he had done so far. Everything was perfect except one or two fasteners needed tightened or loosened to maximize effects. Target wanted this thing in. As Ora explained what he had already done, Target started the long hook-up procedure.



Several hours later, Target finished up with the Slipspace Generators insides, and smiled at Ora weakly. He had debated breifly over what to do with the Conertor Flux, since this was their only generator, and it would take many long hours if it would have been possible to repair it if it had short circuited, but he had carefully set caution to the breeze and hooked it up without shutting down power. And then the power cut out. As a red light grew into existence via the hidden backup power, Target looked around. Ora explained what he would do as Target finished the Generator and left. Rena's voice issued from speakers as the door closed.

"A real team player isnt he?"

Target glanced up at the speakers and grunted noncomitally. Working fast, he began setting up the inner sheild which he had removed in the beginning of the installation. This inner sheild was a system of interlocking panels that guarded the covenant machineries core from energy and radiation emissions, and also stabilized the inner workings a bit with the electronic feild it directed inward. The outer sheild did the same, but was much easier to remove its eight panels to get to the simpler workings of the generator. Each peice of sheild was half an inch thick, four inches length and width, and seemed to be made of a material that could resist nearly any heat. As the last segment was hooked into place, he reached back and used a tool that held this item in place only. All of the bits of the sheild were interlocked, leading up to only one panel being secured in place. Without removing the secured sheild member, set at random by the puzzle peicer, it was nearly impossible to to get through the sheild. The whole generator was covered in nearly seven hundred small sections, making it extremely hard and studious to find that particular parcel. As this panel was secured in place, a crackling interrupted over the radio.

"Target, the wires were melted. Our visitor is still with us. I need you to get down here and repair these."

Target bolted up and dumped the tools into a case.

"Roger, I have just finished up setting up the inner sheild here, so it will be fine as long as Rena secures and seals this room entirely."

Target reached behind him to the small of his back and pulled out the .44 magnum, which he ahd secretly hidden there, of fear for this. He had spent many hours in that cafeteria, and had found the trap door behind the counter. It had seemed perfectly good to him to ignore this threat, but at least he had prepared himself this small bit. Walking out of the room, he sighed as the doors sealed behind him in a hiss, and he heard blots and pistons lock into position under the six inch thick, titanium alloy, heat resistant door.

Launching off, he sprinted down the corridor, using his jump move to traverse from horizonatally gravitated, to vertically gravitated corridor. As he moved from a vertical corridor to a horizontal corridor, and the one in which the wires had been fried, Target saw Ora standing at the end of the corridor, pointing his shotgun at him. Target turned around to where Ora was pointing the gun and frowned at nothing. Glancing back slightly, he wondered if Ora was imagining things. Target looked around. Slowly, he walked up to a vent on the wall. He looked at it. Leaning down, he examined the cover, and then the screws that held it in place, everything was untouched.

A screeching whine exploded from all sides and Target jumped backwards and brought his gun around on anything he could see. It was all around him. A rattle to the right made him pull his gun around for a second, before a cliang to the left made him spin into a one-eighty. Where was this thing? Suddelny, the screech subsided into nothing, and Target stood there, listening as hard as he could with his knees wobbling.

Across the corridor, Ora looked around slowly, his head shaking. And then the sound burst out upon him too. Turning slowly, he waited for something to emerge, but again the sound subsided after a short bit. Target and Ora looked around a while, and then looked at eachother. And then the wailing was flung upon Target again. He swung his pistol around the ceiling, the floor, the walls, whatever it could be in. He heard Ora yell faintly over the scream, he truned around and saw a pulp of green blood and bones squirm from a small gap between the panels from which the artificial gravity device was stored and emitted its work. Target reached his gun back, and smacked it on the head as hard as he could. Even as the blood splattered , the thing lept from the space, shoving Target backwards against the wall. He stood back up and held the gun in front of him. As far as Target was concerned, it had been this one to explode over his face. A movement from the creature made Target stand to the side slightly as a tentacle snapped with bonechrushng power. Another shout from Ora, who was running up to bear on this thing with that giant shotgun of his, made Target realize he was in the way of this forms death. Target dove backwards, firing his gun at the flood as he landed and rolled into a side corridor. Target made one hit as a loud blast alerted him to the firing of Ora's giant shotgun. The combat form twirled slightly in place, and then smashed away from the scene, leaving green blood to glow strangely in the blue grav light. Launching himself up, Target pushed forward and lifted his magnum up to eye level. There were two rounds left in the chamber as Target squeezed the trigger. Two objects of metal, filled with explosive powder and set to fire, exploded from the tip. The first impacted right between the shoulderblades, and the other through the head. Target smiled as a mass of flesh smashed dead to the plating. Target turned as Ora walked up and smiled warmly at him. Ora walked over to the lump and pointed the gun at it. Kicking it once, He jumped back as a hand grabbed at him. Another deafening roar rang out as the flood jumped up and screeched in an unearthly wail, and sped off down the corridor. Ora loosed another shot at it but it kept on going after a bit of a stumble. Its blood was everywhere, but Target knew that that was no reason for it to die, and the flood probably didnt think so either.

"Rena, track any doors that open that we dont open. And seal off the sublevels."

"Too late." Said Rena angrily. "A camera just taped it moving into Sublevel-C, and there arent any door sensors or cameras down there."




Half an hour later, the mess was cleaned up, and Target was surveying the damaged power lines.

"Well, we are going to need to run a new section. We will have to get one of the small bots in the lab that can crawl through these four inch pipes and pull up the damaged wire while replacing it with new." Target glanced up at Ora, who leaned over his shoulder, looking at the raised bubbles of melted plastic coating. "Unless you want Gyro to do it." Target said jokingly. . .

Ora looked over at Target, his eye’s showing
that the marine took his last comment
seriously. “I am sure Gyro wouldn’t mind
helping out, except with those claws of his,
he wouldn’t be able to properly manipulate
the tools. So I think one of the service bots
would do a fine enough job.” He paused,
picking Gyro up from a storage container to
his left and stroking the reptile slowly. “And
besides, I need his help with the message we
likely received from ONI by now.” With that,
Target could only shake his head and fallow.

Later, Ora sat down soundly in his chair,
setting Gyro next to himself on his desk, he
punched up the com. system to check and see
if any new messages were received while
they were away. Looking over the screen, he
saw nothing. “Yeah, nothing yet Ora.” Rena
started. “It’s likely the message is still in
transit. Anyway, you two- err, three should
probably get some sleep.” Rena corrected,
taking Gyro into account for Ora’s sake. “I
have already sealed off sublevel-C. So our
‘guest’ should stay down there a while. I hate
to leave it unattended like this, but you need
to get some sleep, you both are worn out, and
judging by the feedback information I
received, your weapons use was getting
sloppy. I will give you both about six hours,
by then ONI should have sent their reply, and
you both should be fit enough to find and
neutralize the flood form. Down there isn’t
any critical systems, mainly secondary power
cables, and spare part storage. Part of the
level was also where we had that collision
previously. So get some sleep, and then take
a moment to wake up. I don’t think it is
going anywhere.” Rena assured then. Pausing
a moment, she then added. “And besides, I
will be keeping watch to make sure
everything is in order.” With that, Ora gave a
sigh and took Gyro to bed, Rena prescribing
them sleep aids to help them rest.

Target followed this conversation very slowly. He was too tired to pay much attention. As he and Ora headed up to get some sleep, he stumbled quite a few times from his fading vision. He noticed that it faded whenever he was stressed, and came right back when he was relieved of stress. He hoped this meant it was only temporary to the time of stress each time. Sighing, he opened his quarters as Ora stepped inside his behind him. Smiling, Target flopped down on the bed as the doors flowed shut behind him.Darkness enveloped him and relaxed his body as he drifted into empty space. Slowly, he floated into the black abyss that awaited him.



Target stood inside a long tunnel, bathed in a soft white light. The walls shimmered quietly and when Target reached out and touched it, he realized water was quietly flowing down them. Smiling, he ran his hand up and down them, shuddering in happiness. Turning forward again, he started walking that way. He smiled happily as he found a side-corridor, and walked down that. He emerged into a spherical chamber that glowed a soft blue and had thje same water runiing from an invisible point, and flowing down an invisible drain. Walking in giddily, he lay down in the center, feeling the water run over him and cool his body. Target closed his eyes and lay there for many long minutes, feeling the tranquility flow over him. A quiet splash made him open his eyes lazily. In his pereipheral vision he caught sight of a figure standing slightly lopsided. Sitting up, Target turned around to look at the person. In the doorway stood a grossly disfigured creature. Scrambling backwards, Target stared at the thing. It had no face and one arm was amazingly different from the left. Staring, he started to scream as it walked forward with its whipped arm raised. As the appendage lashed out Target felt a searing pain on his forehead. And again, stillness enveloped him. . .



Target woke up screaming. His bed was covered in sweat. Looking up, he realized where he was and slumped back down in bed. This dream was probably not a good thing. . . After a while, he sat up in bed, and turned on the lights. He was glad the room was sound proofed. Looking at the clock on the wall, Target sighed as he got ready for the day. . .

Ora awoke, holding his head he sighed.
“Again, another headache.” Sitting up he
reached for a bottle of acetaminophen.
Sighing he removed three tablets and reached
for a bottle of water he commonly kept next to
his bed. It then took a moment for him to then
realize it wasn’t there, as his hand probed the
surface of the table lethargically. Glancing
over, he frowned and leaned down to pick the
bottle up off the floor. Ora then gave a huff as
he realized that he must have knocked the
bottle off in his sleep. He then realized,
something was different. Looking over the
bottle, he then felt some form of sticky resin
partially encompassing the container. His eyes
then dilated as the realization of danger set in.
Looking up, a sudden though crossing his
mind, he saw Gyro’s cage overturned and torn
open. At that moment, Ora regretted taking
the prescribed sleep aids, and even more so,
regretted trusting the abhorrent computer.
Sitting up slowly, Ora then reached for his
M90 “Komodo”, then, his breath stopped as
he realized it wasn’t leaning against his night
stand as usual. Taking yet another deep
breath, he opened his night stand drawer, and
retrieved his M9-X hand gun. Scanning the
dim confines of his chamber, he searched for
Gyro, but when nothing turned up, he looked
to the door where the manual light switch
was. Not wanting to get off of the seemingly
‘safe’ plateau he now sat on, he called into the
darkness. “Rena, lights please.” Ora then
dismayed as he heard no response. Taking a
deep breath, he knew he was on his own.
Leaning himself against the wall on the
opposing side of his bed, he listened carefully.
Then with nothing forthcoming, he moved
about a bit, and heard a scrapping noise in
response, from under the bed. Ora looked
down, and aimed his weapon, pulling gently
on the trigger he then stopped himself. “What
am I doing?” He whispered in the dark. “Gyro,
it’s just Gyro.” He said to himself, though the
reality that Gyro was likely no more, a
monster of the real world was what lurked
below. Deciding, Ora then took action.
Jumping from his bed he flew across the room
in sharp momentum, colliding into the door
with a resounding thud. Quickly scrambling to
his feet, his half-dazed mind desperately
searched for the switch. Pounding the switch
into the ‘on’ position, he healed his breath as
nothing happened. He then took into
consideration the room around him. A red
eerie light covered the world in a dim, if not
grim hope, while the blackened shadows of
death lurked about him, threats of their
contents blighted, scourging all rationality
from his as he realized how bad the situation
had just gotten. Again, a scraping noise came
from under his sleeping place. Ora raised his
weapon at it, holding his breath as he
watched. Then a small clatter emerged, and an
eight gage, magnum shell rolled ominously
from the darkness. He then realized this flood
form was playing games with him. Soon,
using this, he flushed a bout of anger through
his mind, and fired his weapon into the
shadows, hoping to destroy the monster of his
nightmares. One round after another punched
into the wall, each with it’s own metallic
clatter. The weapon then gave a mute click as
he continued to pull the trigger, smoke raising
from the barrel, intertwining with itself as it
rose gently to the ceiling. He then threw the
weapon under the bed, a clatter then sounded,
and to his surprise, and horror, it lunged at
him from the depths. Clearing the space
between them quickly Ora yelled in surprise
as the form flew at him. Swatting at it, the
form vanished, Leaving Ora stunned, and
looking about. Realization then cleared his
mind. It was Gyro, and he just swatted him
across the room! Ora then stood up, then
glanced to the side. “Gyro!?!” Moving across
the room, he gently slid debris from Gyro’s
cage out of the way as he looked for the
lizard. Then he saw it, watching him intently
in the corner. Ora then reached down, seeing
the lizard part way under a sheet of some
kind. Grabbing hold of the sheet, Ora paused.
His hand clung to it as a sticky substance
seemed to coat the paper like material he
gripped. Letting go, he pulled back, and then
it came on him. Something enveloped him as
he fought, screaming and yelling, he attacked
it. Soon, a sound was heard, but it didn’t
concern him, all he cared about was the fight
at hand, and surviving it. Soon, the creature
retracted from him, and he saw its misshapen,
droopy form move away quickly, leaping at it,
Ora perused it. Not allowing it to recover.
Then he felt it, a sound hit, as his fist
connected with the target. Ora then continued,
strike after frenzied strike. Then a voice called
to him, he didn’t care at the moment, his mind
was set, and he would kill this thing. Again he
struck it soundly, the form moved feebly
under him, as though restrained.

Then the voice from around him sunk in, and
was registered. “Ora! What the Heck are you
doing! Stop!” Ora paused, realizing it was
Rena calling to him. Now in the moment of
silence, he heard a sharp groan. Looking
down, he pulled at the disfigured tissue.
Pulling it aside, he saw Target beneath it, his
face bloodied, and is expression completely
stunned. Ora then got off quickly, and pulled
the marine to his feet. Target then backed
away, and Ora healed his hands up partially in
a show of none-aggression.

Target then gathered his wits and looked at
Ora, holding his face. “What the heck is
wrong with you!” Target exclaimed, clearly
upset by this.

“I-“ Ora started, unsure of what to say. “I
thought you were, well; that thing!” The
marine gestured to the fleshy mass on the
floor. Ora then turned and ran to the corner
and picked up Gyro. Looking the lizard over,
he sighed a bit to see he was alright. Then, a
gloom came back over him as he turned back
to Target. “Lets get, ehh, that looked at, and
then figure out how this thing got in my room,
and where my shotgun went.”

Target’s expression froze, his visible skin
seemed to pale at his words. “Your gun is
missing?”

“Yes, the M90 ‘Komodo’” Ora elaborated
with worry lining his voice.

“Lets hurry up...” Target insisted as they
headed for the bridge.


Later, after tending to Target’s wounds, Ora
turned to Rena. “What happened? I thought
you said you would be keeping an eye on
things!”

Rena sighed a moment. “One system I didn’t
think was accessible from sublevel-C was the
door sensors. Apparently, it managed to
squeeze itself between a couple of secondary
junction panels, then force its way through a
transition hatch into sublevel-B, from there I
am guessing that is where is disabled the door
sensors, and then caused a power surge to
knock out the security cameras. I don’t think
we are dealing with any ordinary combat form
here.”

Ora then looked down a moment, then back to
where the holographic image of Rena
normally stood. “Rena, why didn’t it kill me?
And why on earth did it leave a full suit of
dead skin hanging in the corner of my room,
then blissfully run off with my shot gun after
knocking Gyro on the floor?”

Rena pondered a moment, then spoke. “I-“
She paused. “I am not sure. You don’t seem to
show any signs of being infected, and Gyro
didn’t become a snack. I am not sure why
either of you are still alive. Target realized
something was wrong when he stepped into
the hall and the entire ship was in low power
mode. I wasn’t available until that point, as
the power surge overloaded my systems and
caused me to shut down to prevent any
damage to my circuits or hardware. Then the
reboot prosess took about fifteen minutes in
low power mode. As I came back online, I
heard the gun fire from your room, and Ora
dived to the floor instinctively until he
realized it wasn’t aimed at him. Then, it
stopped and he approached the door. I had to
override you door lock, then Target entered,
seeing you fighting something, he reached
down to pull it off. He was stunned by the fact
it was just dead skin, but you didn’t seem to
notice until later. You then attacked him,
thinking he was a retreating flood form, then,
well, you know the rest. I am assuming it got
into your room via the ventilation shaft in the
center of your ceiling, and likely, that’s how it
left.”

Target listened, again bewildered by it’s
ability to fit into the smallest areas. “Why did
my room still have power?” Target asked
perplexed, as the rest of the ship was in low
power, why not his room?

“Well, when the surge took place, I found
myself overwhelmed by it, and likely the local
system BIOS did as well. Which I do believe
left a couple areas on the ship still active, as
part of a system glitch developed by the
surge.” Rena finished, explaining the error to
him in relitive detail.

Ora then took the moment to get strait to the
point. “Alright, it is clear we are in no way
safe. So, how do we kill it?”

Rena again paused, then replied. “Alright, you
two should first head to the armory, I am
getting just as tired of this thing as you are,
and this time, we'll give it war. Now, I want
you two to get to the armory, carefully, and I
will further instruct you there.”

Ora then turned to target, who nodded, and
they moved to the door.

Later, upon reaching the armory, Ora sealed
the door. Looking around they waited for
Rena to respond.

“Alright.” Rena’s voice started, crackling
through the speakers about the room. “First
off, be careful. We don’t know if that thing is
in here, and remember, it has Ora’s shotgun. I
want you two to sweep the room, and make
sure your safe before we proceed.”

With that, Ora started first, feeling he was the
most capable. As Target tried to fallow, Ora
held out his hand for him to wait. Moving
forward, Ora slowly moved to one of the
lockers and open it, removing his armor and
quietly putting it on. Meanwhile, Target stood
by the door, magnum revolver tightly
clenched, scanning the world around him, he
waited for they’re hostile from his position.

Ora finished equipping his armor, then looked
around a moment. “Rena, are there any
weapons close by that I can use safely here?”

Rena paused, then let out a quiet sigh as she
pondered. “Well, technically one of the first
rules of weapons handling, as well as common
sense is: Not to discharge weapon in an
armory filled with live ammunition. But
really, I don’t think we have much of a choice.
Alright, I think I have something we both can
be happy with. This ships armory wasn’t
cleared out before they sent you off, so there
are a number of weapons still here from the
last mission. Due to the sudden decision to
send you on this mission, they didn’t have
time to do anything but throw some extra
equipment in here just before they sent you
off. But I do think a ex-Covenant left
something in locker fourteen that you would
find very useful, and safe for the ship.”

Ora then looked to the locker she spoke of,
which lay about thirty-six feet at the end of
the room. Taking a deep breath, he walked to
it cautiously. Making it to the end of the
room, he reached for the locker. Opening it,
he saw a small metal shaft about one foot
long. Pulling it out, he then realized it was a
Covenant energy sword! Holding it out, he
clicked it on and watched as the blade flashed
into existence. Smiling, with the voice that
came though the speakers next, it seemed
Rena was as well. “There it is. It is incredibly
affective against flood combat forms. The
only drawback is that it requires you to be
withing striking distance of the thing.”

Ora looked around a moment, checking the
rest of the room, before circling completely
around the center weapon racks. The interior
of this armory being the old standard used in
many war vessels even today. One of the most
notable ships to ever have used the armory
layout being The Pillar of Autumn.

“The area is secure enough for the moment.”
Ora said, knowing the thing could still be in
here, but also knowing they didn’t have the
time to search for it more throughly.

“Alright.” Rena started. “Now, here is the
plan: We are going to take our ship back, one
room at a time. First off, we will need to be
properly equipped. We have a total of seven
Deadlock Auto Sentry Guns. Which are tripod
placed weapons that, when activated detect
movements, lock on to them, and fire. They
are very indiscriminate, but as long as you
don’t step in front of them, you should be
fine.” Now, from what I have seen so far, this
flood form regenerates tissue quickly, so if
you injure it, make sure you kill it. Now, our
first objective here is to recapture the primary
fuse box for the door sensors and cameras,
repair it, and place a sentry gun to protect it.
Once that is done, we will be able to track the
form much more easily. Now Target, that’s
where you come in. I am positive you will
have to be the one to fix the thing. As flood
are never gentle, so you will need to likely
replace the whole set up, and wires. And that
will take about half an hour. Now Ora, you are
already versed in the proper use of the sentry
guns, and how to safely handle them. Now, as
you know, the new Mk. Seven ‘Deadlock’
Sentry Guns area very formidable. Boasting a
personal shield generators, and magnetic floor
clamps to keep them from being flipped over.
They sit low to the ground, and fire nine-
point-five millimeter rounds at a rate of five
hundred a minute. They come fully loaded
with about six-hundred and fifty rounds a
piece, and are capable of sophisticated firing
patters and ‘leading’ targets. One of them is
more then enough even for a handful of flood,
if we place them right. Now, as we have seen;
this flood form is smart. So it likely wont get
itself killed on stationary guns. Now the
purpose of this tactic will be to take the main
corridor just outside, weld the bedroom doors
closed, and secure the bridge and armory.
Then, once we have throughly checked each
area with the motion trackers, and are positive
all areas are secure, we will then slowly
expand out field of influence, moving sentry
guns as needed, making sure we are
completely encompassed, leaving no side
unguarded, and welding extra doors as we go,
only leaving one side for it to come at us
from. Now, we will persist in this up till we
make it to level one of engineering, which we
will use to make it down to the sublevel-B.
Now, I recommend extreme caution when
using the shaft serves down to the sub level.
Because the main lift isn’t working, and I
suspect that the power to it was cut in the
sublevel as well. As the lift is hooked up to
secondary power. Now, Target, you stay
behind Ora in this, as you need to be in decent
medical health. You are very important to
these objectives, as your extensive mechanical
knowledge will be required. As we both
know, the flood are never gentle with there
targets, and most of the supporting equipment
to these objectives probably will need to be
replaced. That’s why we need level one of
engineering barricaded. As most of the spare
parts we have left are in storage rooms linked
to that area. We will need to also get control
of the atmospheric regulation system. Because
as I am sure you can feel, it is getting quite
warm in here, which means the enemy is
trying to propagate infection forms. So once
we have the security systems online, we will
head strait for the atmospheric regulation’s
service box on that same level. Once we get
control back, we will turn down the ships
temperature to about minus fifteen degrees.
So both of you had better get warmly dressed.
But also, to bate it into moving where we
want it, we will keep sublevel-C relatively
warm. Now, this will cause the flood to
become more lethargic, and will keep it out of
the ventilation ducts as well as forcing it to
move downward so it can’t harm more
important systems. Now, to set a trap, we will
continue to seal off areas until we make it to
sublevel-C. Then, once we have all access
narrowed down to one hatch to the sublevel,
we will use one of those repair bots, like the
one you used yesterday, to scout down there. I
will have it’s visual system at my disposal to
monitor all it sees. With this, we will make
sure it is down there, and once we are sure we
have it trapped, then we will collect all our
sentries, leaving one at the hatch, then bring
them here. This phase of my plan is the most
risky, but it involves killing that thing once
and for all. Now, we will then send another
bot down, just to make sure the hatch is safe,
then move down with two sentry guns and set
up a perimeter. Once this is done, we will then
expand our field of influence through the
sublevel, just like we did through the rest of
the ship. And eventually, if you are through
enough, we will eventually corner it and kill
it. I recommend the flamer for Ora, and a M7
Sub Machine Gun for you Target. Now, the
SMG is only for your protection, if you hit
that fuel tank on Ora’s back, you will kill both
you and him, and likely destroy any number of
systems. What do you two think of this plan?”
Rena finally finished, laying out each step in
detail as she spoke. Ora nodded a moment as
well, apparently agreeing with it himself.

Target watched the glowing weapon. Smiling, he realized how beautiful and graceful it was. It seemed to cut through the air with an elagent sweeping motion. Tearing his eyes from the deadly weapon, Target looked around at the armory. Smiling slightly, he turned to Ora, who stared blankly at the plasma sword in his hand. After while he shrugged and glanced up at Target. He gave a small smirk at the longing on Target's face and deactivated the blade, handing it over. Target grinned in happiness as accepted the gift. He activated the plasma sword in his hand. A fwoosh split the air as a glowing white blade burst from the handle. Waving it slightly, Target got the feel of it and began to like it alot. He did a quick twirl which he had learned weilding a wrench and a jubilant smile split his face. Deactivating the sword, he looked around. Ora started and looked around also. The two glanced at eachother and nodded. Both had flaslights equipped to their guns. Ora took the lead as they began to search the armory. Stepping forward, the pair surveyed the shelves with their weapons held forward in a threatening gesture. Ora moved forward a bit and the two created a system; Ora shuffled sideways with the weight of the flamer, as Target stood and kneeled the various hights to check each shelf section for inhabitants. At one point Target held up and hand and looked a bit deeper. He cocked his head as something shined dully in the darkness. Reaching in, he came out with two combat knives in their sheaths, both with metal hilts. Target shrugged and handed one over to Ora, while pulling his open and staring at the highly sharpened, serrated edge. The pair put these weapons at their sides and continued their search. Each shelf held something, but most of it was of no interest. An SMG here, a frag grenade there, it was all very well and good, but not what they were looking for. As the pair moved around the room, they got to the opposite point from which they started. This left all but the sentry casings. The two teammates stepped forward and brought their weapons to bear. Ora reached out and with a flick of his wrist, pressed a button on the side. Two milky white, sandblasted glass doors slid open. Target flinched slightly as the light flickered on and momentarily blinded him. Nothing was inside but the turrets. Sighing, Target lowered his weapon and looked around. The place was clear. He was glad that they had not actually needed to ferret out this dangerous flood. After a few seconds of silence, Target had a very scary idea. Dropping to the floor, he aimed the SMG under the three inch space from the shelves to the metal, and pulled the flasglights free to get a better look under the shelf while sliding along. Shrugging, Ora did the same on the opposite side of the room. Target moved along. Dust bunnies and dirt were all he saw. And then his light flickered out. Grunting, he banged it on the floor until it came back on. Smiling, he pointed it at the space again. Before Target could adjust his eyes again, the flashlight was knocked spinning from his hands. All of the sudden, every light cut out in the armory, and the chattering of an SMG sounded. All that could be seen was the lazy turning of the flashlight. After about five seconds of fire, the weapon was silenced, and Ora was staring across the extremely dark space, trying to make out shadows from shades. The flashlight finally spun to a stop on Target'ss motionless body. Getting up, Ora walked slowly over to the scene. When he stood directly over Target, he leaned down and looked at him. Targets eyes were clamped tight as if in pain and fear.

Target heard a sound above him and brought the SMG still clamped in his fingers up to bear on Ora. After a second or two of stunned silence on both of their parts, Target sharply point the gun back at the space under the shelf. A aplattering of gore was all that remained. Both teammates jumped as the lights blinked to life, and showed Target what had happened. The remnants of flesh were splattered in a three hundred and sixty degree pattern from under the shelf. Apparently, this had been an infection form that Target had heard about, because they popped, and that was all that could have happened here.. Standing up, he turned towards Ora, and smiled weakly. . .

Helping Target up, he had the marine bring a
pare of sentry guns up to the door. Moving to
the door himself, Ora glanced over at Target,
to ensure they were both ready. With a subtle
nod from the marine, Ora unlocked the door,
and moved through it quickly, Target taking
his flank. They watched the hall closely, and
then Ora whispered to Target to keep an eye
open while he set up the first turret. Target
agreed, and stood guard, the active sword in
one hand, and the SMG in the other.

Ora then reached back inside the doorway and
pulled out one of the turrets and then tapped
Target’s shin as he knelt down next to him.
Signaling for the marine to cover his back.

Target turned, pivoting on his heel to face the
opposing side. Watching carefully, everything
was going according to plan. After Ora set up
the turret to cover the engineering room door,
as well as his bedroom door, they would then
move through the hall to search out each nook
and cranny along the walls, as well as sealing
ventilation shafts, and doors along the way.
Target was then snapped from his thoughts by
a beeping noise from behind. Resisting the
instinct to turn and see what it was, he
reminded himself it was probably just the
turret coming online. Then a shard metal-
against-metal sound told him the turret was
now clamped to the floor.

He then heard the re-ignition of Ora’s
weapon’s pilot light as the marine came back
to his feet behind him. Then with a light tap
on the shoulder, Ora motioned Target aside.

Moving ahead, Ora swept his weapon from
side-to-side while Target fallowed closely
behind, checking between the pipes and gaps
between the walls and floor grating as they
continued. Then pausing at a ventilation shaft,
Target grimaced. Not wanting to have to get
so close to another dark space so soon after
his incident in the armory, he paused. Then,
squaring his shoulders, Target started to kneel
down, then froze as he felt a hand firmly grip
his shoulder. Ora then, again without a word,
ordered him to keep an eye on the hall as he
took care of the vent. Unable to protest,
Target took him up on the offer and moved to
guard the hall, opposite the turret.

Ora then kneeled down with a grunt, the
weight of the weapon making such movement
difficult. He then removed a handheld
welding device he had acquired from the
armory. Activating it, he started to arch-weld
the ventilation shaft to the wall permanently.
He wasn’t sure if it could hold back this flood
form, but welding it to the wall did strengthen
the metal grate more then the simple four
screws which held it in place. Finishing, Ora
gripped some of the pipes with one hand,
grabbing the flamer with the other. Then
pulling himself to his feet, he gave another
grunt at the effort it took him. Continuing, Ora
took over most of the welding, to his door,
and any shafts they found along the hall. But
when it came to the last one, Target stopped
the marine. Feeling he was putting Ora
through unneeded physical strain, he decided
it was best if he took back over the welding
for the rest of this ‘operation’. Once finished,
Ora and Target took one last look down the
hall to make sure they didn’t miss anything.

Searching up and down, the only sounds heard
were their footsteps, and the methodical beeps
generated by the automated turret. With
nothing in sight, they turned to the door on the
opposing end from engineering. The bridge.
Knowing they had to secure it, they moved to
the door. With Ora taking point, they prepared
to open it . . .

Target looked over to Ora, and nodded quietly. Ora stepped u to the door, and Target reached out with his fingertips, and pressed a button. The doors slid open with a slight hiss and Target saw Ora step forward slightly. A sudden clatter made both jump back, and Target turned to get a better view of the room. Looking around it, he saw nothing. Then he spotted out of the bottom of his eye something rolling on the floor. Bringing his weapon down as fast as possible, he stared for a full ten seconds. Sitting on the floor was Ora's flashlight, which had fallen from its clip on Ora's weapon. Both sighed visibly, as Ora leaned down and replaced the flashlight in its correct place. Ora again moved forward, and the pair entered the room. Ora swept his flamethrower from side to side, as Target slid along the wall. Jumping slightly, Target felt something on the wall behind him. Swinging around quickly, he saw the access panel, held firmly in place. Relaxing again, he moved on. The room was mainly shaped like a trapezoid, with two extra angles. The long flat wall contained the entrance to the center and the access panel to the right, from a perspective of the center. After that wall, to the right at a ninety degree angle, and about a third the length of the first, was the second wall. It was completely devoid of anything at all. Farther to the right was Ora's station, with a highly developed computer screen in the forward slanted bulkhead, and the keyboards, controls, and writing space was on a desk-like shelf, again slanted. Oras space was cluttered with paperwork and pencils. Then came the middle section, parallel to the entrance wall, but about a fourth as long. This held the main view-screen. This is where the front view was continually displayed. At the moment, blankness hung there, with an occasional glimmer to indicate stars beyond the camera's current view setting. Then came Targets station. It was neat and clean, and had a stack of blank sheets and a stack of work sheet. Three pencils lay parallel on it. Targets space also held a small coffee maker. Besides the point that the caffeine kept him awake, he loved the stuff. Then there was the last wall, which held the trash compacter. In the ver center of the room was a holo panel for Rena to appear on. As Target rotated his view to encompass the whole thing, she flickered to life. Target walked slowly over to Oras station, as Ora surveyed Targets. Both held no mysterious creatures lying in wait under the legspace. Straitening up, Target headed to the trash compacter, and also found no deadly monster lying in wait here. Both team-mates looked at eachother and shrugged as Rena surveyed the scene silently. Walking over to the access panel, they both took out welders, and finished up securing the bridge. . .

Ora then, secured his welder and hefted his
flamer back up to an erect position to his right as
he observed his handy work. If this area wasn’t
secure, he would have allowed Target to do it
alone, as someone should always be keeping
watch, just incase. Pressing the ‘ignition’ button,
he watched as the pilot light flickered to life.
Smiling, he turned to the door. He looked down
to the weapon, and he admired how much it held
like a Covenant brute shot, with the forward
handle, and rear grip. Ora reached down to a
large pouch on his left side, opening it, Target
glanced down and saw Gyro within it. Ora then
stroked the Reptilia a moment then closed the
pouch once again. The pouch seemed to have
three button snaps which kept the lizard inside
without smothering it.

Then, the sound of gun-fire rang out through the
ship as the two marines looked to one another.
Ora then motioned quickly and the two headed
back to the main hall. As they approached the
door leading from the bridge to the hall, the loud
roar of Ora’s M90 ‘Komodo’ echoed through the
halls, punching strait through the steel door and
passing just between the two of them. Dropping
to the floor, another shot reverberated off the
bulkheads as it punched through some metallic
object. Then, the gunfire stopped. Waiting
moments, Ora looked to Target then whispered.
“Do you think our ‘guest’ did the turret in?”

Target already knew the answer, he could still
hear the subtle ‘beeps’ given off by the piece of
machinery, he could only hope that the flood
didn’t make it. “No, the turret is still going. Lets
check it out.”

Nodding, Ora stood to his feet and opened the
door. Looking, he saw a thin haze of smoke
hanging in the air as the machine beeped
methodically, still oscillating in it’s ninety
degree arch. Moving closer, they saw where the
M90 had managed to hit turret. Target then knelt
down to it as Ora helped the turret keep watch of
the hall, peering into the darkness of the hall,
looking for the remains of the flood.

Target then saw where the M90 left it’s mark.
Twisted metal, and slight sparks as the base of
the tripod were what drew his attention. Looking
over it, he noticed the M90 had passed through
the shield barrier, and smashed into the tripod,
breaking two of the three legs from the base of
the turret.

Ora again hefted his flamer to his right as he
grabbed for his flash light. Clicking it on, he saw
a mess of fluids and tissue, but nothing
resembling the actual remains of the creature.
Ora then whispered for Target to turn it off, and
to keep a light down the hall. Nodding, Target
pulled his flashlight, and Ora instructed him how
to deactivate the device.

Once the turret was deactivated and removed,
Target and Ora took a deep breath and headed
for engineering, unsure of what might await
them . . .

Ahead of them were three corridors, all at right angles to eachother before they would be at engineering. Ora walked slowly down the first corridor, the flamethrower held at ready and his eyes searching for access points. Target followed, waving the flashlight around, with his plasma sword at the ready. They moved past the first corridor without finding access points for the flood, and turned onto the next one. Moving forward, Ora came up on a access channel at the right. The pair stopped momentarily and stared at it. Target moved forward and got ready to pull the cover free. Ora got in positon as Target popped the cover off. As Ora stared into the black beyond, nothing happened. Ora moved forward to look inside, but Target stopped him. turning on the Energy Sowrd, he stuck it inside the hole and waved it a bit. The blade overloaded and deadctivated as a bonecrushing roar split the air. Target jumped out of the way as Ora moved forward and pointed that flamethrower slightly downward. Letting it loose, he waited as the walls scorched and began to melt. Turning it off, he and Target replaced the covor, and welded it on. The two looked at eachother.

"That was a tricky thing to do to it." Ora stated.

"Your right. To kill a bastard, you must be a bastard."

Ora smiled at him, and the pair moved on. Soon they came to the engine room. Ora entered first, and Target followed after. Target smiled as Ora immediately checked under the drive. All that was in the room was the large, currently silent engine. Target walked over to the control panel, and was surrised that it was untouched. Looking around, he walked over to the access panel, and motioned for Ora to start welding, while he held a plate in place over it for extra strength. This plate was three times thicker then the others, this engine was their one and only. Target figured that it wasnt damaged becaudse the flood would be needing it. But if it got desperate it might just go after it.

After the welding job was done, Target followed Ora out the door, and sealed the door behind them with the welders. They would have to cut back through when all was said and done but for now it needed top security protection. Target smiled as he realized how much pof a team they were. They really had grown on eachother, and could now even be quilifed as friends. He chuckled slightly and waved off Oras stare and head-cock.

"Nothing, nothing. Lets move on. . ."

Ora then looked to Target a moment, thinking
over the last hour or so they had been on the
hunt. “Target.” Ora started, allowing a pause to
assure he had his friends attention. “Do you think
we killed that thing? You know, back at the last
junction point?”

Target thought a moment and shook his head. “ I
don’t know. The heat of the flamer, and my
energy sword I would have thought would have
taken care of it. But with our luck lately, I have a
bad feeling it is still waiting for us; somewhere .
. .”

Ora nodded slowly, looking to the floor in
thought. “Yes, I suppose your right. Well, next
up is to take the shaft in engineering down to the
first sublevel, as Rena had planned. As I am sure
you well know, had been selected because it was
closest to the environmental backup control
conduit. As well as also the primary power
access point.” Ora finished, hefting his flamer to
his right side while he spoke. The pilot light
being the brightest focus of light in the hall, it
only added intense lines of dark shadow across
Ora’s already narrow features.

Ora somehow seemed to remain calm, even now.
Though deep inside he was frightened, and was
constantly tense in his shoulders, and hands. But
other then this, there seemed to be no other signs
of his fear. Perhaps it had to do with his training,
or his time alone. Or maybe, it was simply how
he chose to deal with the situation?

Target found it hard to imagine that someone
could just ‘chose’ to be clear headed in a time
like this, but then again; Ora wasn’t like many
others, and perhaps, even if he was frightened,
something unique in his mental state, and
personality type allowed him to remain clear
minded, even when confronted with the intense
fear of unnatural pain and death, as they were
now. And even, to cope with the primal fear
“what if . . .” “What if, you didn’t die when the
Flood took you.” Or: “What if, you sat within
yourself, watching in pain and torment as your
mongreled, mishappened body tore every one
you came to call friend to pieces, only to put
them together again in the same twisted form as
yourself, for the vile conquest to destroy
everything, your home, and everything you came
to know and love . . .” Target just didn’t know
how else to explain it, or how else to look at it.
None of this seemed to affect Ora, and
something about him allowed him not only to
have strength for himself, but his strength
seemed to surround him in an aura that even
Target could feel and take comfort in. And even
if Ora had been cold and harsh to him for most
of their time out here; Target knew deep down,
Ora was probably the best friend he could have
ever had, and would rather no one else to be at
his side in this horror, that is their reality . . .

Target hated this thing. It had tried to do exactly what he had described, he just didnt want to think it was true that this could have happened. Ora. . . Ora was a brother to him. One of the lifechanging people you meet, only when guidance is needed, and they guide you. Ora had taught him patience, and the virtue of thinking something out quietly. Ora was there for him now, in this time when death and pain and fear of hurting your own family were staring Target strait in the face. It touched something inside him, that Ora follow him into battle with this thing, and not say a thing. It was more Targets battle then his. Target had been grasped and taken over by this thing. Ora didnt need to fight. He could simple seal everything off and keep going. But Target hoped that he felt his anger, and shared in it. Because Target knew, if he didnt get this thing now, it would haunt him forever, ethically and mentally. This bond with the flood that Target now held, showed him their horror, and thius was one of the main suppliers to that terrifying evil. The pair moved on.

Target was almost happy now. With Ora here, he could get this thing once and for all. The two now stood in front of the shaft that would lead down to the first sublevel. Target smiled. With this friend at his side, he could win, and overpower the monster with vigor. He stepped back and watched as Ora removed the screws. They both struggled for a moment to remove it, but then realized that this panel was welded from the other side. Ora gave Target a look, and motioned for him to stand some feet away. Target shook his head and stepped forward, inserting the plasma sword in the cracks where the panel sat. It cut cleany as Target moved it down and up, soon moving to the other side,m then the top, and finnally the botton. Target looked at Ora, and the both kicked the panel in unison, and watched as it fell backwards onto the plating. Target made a thumbs up sign at Ora, and stood for a moment, getting ready to enter theis chamber. . .

Ora then watched, his eyes fixed skeptically into the dreary
gloom. Watching the mire of shadow and darkness, he then
shook his head and stepped back. “Target, do you have some
tape?”

Target glanced over at him a moment, then nodded and
reached into his tool belt to remove the silvery black roll from
it’s place. Handing it to Ora, Target watched with interest at
what Ora might have been planning. “I should have done this
earlier . . .” Ora sighed, somewhat dissatisfied with his lack of
foresight. Then, setting a sentry turret to watch the new
opening, Ora turned and removed his helmet. Taking his
flashlight, he turned it on and carefully aligned the light of it
then took the tape to attack it in its current position. After
many layers of tape, Ora refitted his helmet and watched the
light, to check and make sure it was adjusted comfortable to
his view. “Target.” Ora started, making sure he had his friends
attention. “I think we forgot something.”

Target looked back, his mind going over the equipment they
had with them, checking to see what they had missed. “What
would that be?” He said finally, unable to figure what they
didn’t bring with them.

“The motion tracker.” Ora stated simply. “We really should
have taken that from the start so we could track the flood’s
movements. So I think we should set the last sentry gun to
help cover the opening, then go back and get it.”

Target then thought over the idea a moment. Nodding finally,
he agreed mutely to the idea.

Later, after recovering the motion tracker, they returned to the
access point and deactivated the turrets. Looking then, deep
into the darkness, Ora turned his flashlight back on to
illuminate the blacked abyss of sub-level one. Seeing no
immediate threat Ora started to climb down the later. Target
wished they could just send a repair bot to scout sub-level one
first, just like they planned to with sub-level two. But without
Rena’s security systems and primary power activated, the
primary shield generator was offline. And with the shields
deactivated, remote systems would be subject to the electronic
interference from the nearby moon. As Covenant high density
electromagnetic communication frequencies; like the one
being projected from station on the nearby moon, tended to
interfere with most remote systems of human make. Once
they repaired the BIOS for the primary power system, this
would no longer be an issue.

Now within the depths, Ora scanned the area quickly before
setting up the sentry turrets to allow Target to get the
equipment he would need. Looking about, there were only
two possible access points. A large door to his right, and a
ventilation shaft to his left. Taking a deep breath, he turned
his back on the closed door and set up the first turret.
Constantly watching the pipes and small ducts that ran the
walls and ceiling. After setting it, he heard something, a slight
clatter, Turning sharply, he saw nothing. Standing up slowly,
watching his right side, he lifted his flamer. Upon standing, he
heard another noise, this time directly behind him; like the
sound of metal gliding against metal, or the sound of a door.
Turning quickly, he nearly threw himself of to the side with
the weight of his weapon to see the door open. Holding his
breath now, Ora scanned the room with his flash light,
sweaping his weapon quickly from side to side. “Target!” Ora
called.

“I see it.” He heard echo from above, apparently as skeptical
over the door as Ora was.

“Target, I want you to drop a flair. Now.” Ora ordered, his
voice trembling slightly from tension.

Fallowing the order, Target lit a flair and dropped it into the
blackened depths, its brilliant red incandescence illuminated
the room to a more perceptible degree. Ora then turned
slowly, seeing nothing, but not trusting his eyes, he spoke
again up at Target. “Target, do you see anything on the
motion tracker?”

Looking closely, Target shook his head. “No, nothing, not a
thing.”

Ora then sighed and walked over, scanning all the piping and
ducts about himself critically, lightly kicking the flair ahead
of himself to keep his shadow from obscuring his line of sight.
After a few minutes, Ora then knelt down and set the second
turret to watch the open door, keeping a watchful eye to the
blackened hall ahead. After it was set, Ora stood to his feet
and kept his eyes around himself, Kicking the flair back into
the center of the room. “Alright Target, go get the equipment,
I will keep an eye on things down here.”

Nodding Slowly, target stood and let out a sigh of relief,
resting his arms at his sides and trying to loosen the tension of
his shoulders as he headed to the door. He thought a moment,
how odd it was for a Covenant ship to be out here like this,
damaged and broken with no help from the near by moon.
Then, a wash of fear overcame him, as he realized no
Covenant ships seemed to have arrived to investigate the
explosion of the derelict craft in his hasty attack on it. It is
only logical they would have picked up the attack and came to
investigate. And even more so logical that they would have
helped their craft, or destroyed it long before it had a chance
to be completely overtaken by the flood! Or even afterward
they should have destroyed it, but didn’t. Could this suggest
that the entire Covenant force in this area was overtaken
without their knowledge? And even worse, that the flood now
knew where they were because of their contact with this ship,
and now only waited in ambush!?! Target paused a moment,
feeling he should tell Ora, this was defiantly a real possibility,
and more so, a real threat! Turning, Target moved back to the
opening, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a solid,
ominous “beep”. Standing still a moment, he heard it again.
Then again, this time a second overtook the fist noise, stating
there were more then one now!

Below, Ora heard Target start for the door then pause.
Waiting, Ora listened to assure himself all was well. Standing
still, he remained quite to hear his friend’s actions. Then, his
heard seemed to almost stop, and time seemed to slow a
moment as a crisp “beep” came from above. Listening,
wondering if he just mistaken the turret’s sound for the
tracker above, he waited. Hearing it again he lifted his
weapon slowly and looked about. “Target . . .” Ora barely
uttered, hoping for good news, but knowing better.

Target quickly lifted the motion tracker up, looking over it,
and he knew the position was off to far to be Ora’s. Racing
over to the opening he was stunned am moment by the loud
roar or an all too familiar firearm; the M90 Komodo. Target
paused as his breath caught, just barely hearing a loud yell end
with a fading growl as something, perhaps a armored body
clattered to the floor, it’s sound deafening in the moment as
Target feared the worst. Then, as soon as the growl started, a
loud, alarming series of beeps started, and were quickly
accompanied by rapid gunfire, and a loud, inhuman howl.
Target then quickly gathered himself and forced himself to
the opening, which now was alight with the flash of the sentry
gun’s rapid offensive. Quicky jumping onto the service latter,
he slid down, only to hear another “roar” as the dreaded M90
let lose, punching strait through the left side of the later just
shy of his helmet. The gnarled metal flung apart with such
force it cut deeply into Targets left hand, causing him to fall
from the later in a small spray of crimson droplets. Landing
on the ground; Target’s military training took over, causing
him to roll backwards to his feet, and reaching for his
weapon. Drawing the 357 to his eyes, he tried to peer through
the flash of gun fire, to no avail. His mind stammered and his
sight failed as the flash blinded him to the world around. Not
wishing to be the flood’s next victim, he dropped his weapon
and pulled his SMG up from his side, and strayed it in an
arbitrary arch across where he figured the hall should be.
Soon, the turret ended his assault, as did Target. Turning, he
looked to Ora, who lain of the floor, a slight groan emitted
from him as he had his hand lain on his chest. Target moved
closer, trying to focus enough to see the extent of the injury.
Finally, his sight returned to a barely acceptable extent, and he
sighed as he saw the weapon didn’t penetrate the armor.
Though it did score deeply into it, shattering a section of the
reinforced plexiglass, and passing into the titanium underlay,
uprooting a mass of kevlar, but clearly the projectile made it
no farther.

“ORA!” Target yelled soundly, hoping to get a response. “Are
you alright!?!”

Groaning, Ora gritted his teeth a moment, and forced himself
to sit up. “Yeah, I’m alright I think.” His words issued
somewhat stalled through gritted teeth. “Let’s keep going. I
don’t think we’re finished with this thing yet.” Ora then stood,
giving a pained growl as his body protested heavily to the
weapon’s weight, as well as his actions. But he had little
choice, he couldn’t be a liability, not now, not when Target
needed him the most . . .

Target bit his lip as Ora gave forth a growl of pain. Trying not to be too brisk in the process of trying to brush off the event, he nodded, and the pair moved on. Target stared ahead, as Ora took point leading through the hallway. At one point, Target stumbled once, and dropped the motion detector. At the same moment, an ominous beep issued from the machine, and Ora stopped, and turned ever so slightly to give Target a questioning look. Target reached down and scramblingly pulled the machine back so he could see the screen. All was clear. He shrugged and looked at Ora. Both turned to look at their respective hallway ends, and saw nothing. Target smiled grimly, and shined his light in the shadows. Nothing.

"It was probably the bump. . ." Target said, not as sure as he sounded.

"Yeah. Probably."

Target cricked his neck, as the team tiptoed on slowly, waiting for any signs of flood inhabitance. As they walked, Target wondered how fast something had to be moving to register on this motion tracker. A sudden beep stopped both of them in their tracks, and made Target slam himself against the wall when the tracker showed it right on top of them. The motion detector beeped wildly for a moment, until it all stopped, and nothing moved. Target tried to remember the last location of the dot on the screen, but it could be anywhere from five to seven feet away from that exact position. The two both looked up and down the corridor, flipping their flashlights to high intensity illumination, and continued to see nothing. Target flicked his upwards, and saw a lone venilation shaft sitting in the center of the ceiling. Morioning towards Ora, he waited until he looked up, and saw the shaft. Then, Target moved forward slowly, setting the tracker down, and handed Ora his SMG, unloading the flamer from him. Ora understood, and nodded quietly. Target set the flamethrower aside on the floor, and held his hand cupped, to recieve Ora;s boot. Ora stepped up, and was slightly surprised by Targets strength as he was lifted lightly from the ground. He was now a foot or so under the shaft. Reaching up, he tapped it lightly, and realized the panel was just sitting there. giving it a good bang, he dislodged it, and pushed it aside. Snapping his fingers quietly, Ora waited for Target to look up, and lift Ora slowly into the shaft, until his SMG was aimed up at the shaft bottom, and his eyes were an inch or so under the lip. Ora breathed out slowly, and pushed up that small bit more. Inside the shaft, was nothing. Breathing a bit heavily, he laughed a bit, and looked around up here. It was really just a secret storage room, evidently unopenable from the outside except for here. Snapping his fingers again, he told Target he wanted down. Target was not dismayed by the boot he was now holding, they were on a spaceship. These boots had never touched real ground, and were replacements of the previous ones which had worn out over time. Looking up as Ora snapped his fingers to get down, he began to lower him down. All of the sudden, Target was thrown off balance as the floor under him heaved upwards and fell back down. Dropping on his side, he lost his breath as Ora and his entire armor weight fell on top of him. Rolling him off, Target grabbed up the SMG, as Ora pulled up the flame thrower. On the floor, a three foot section had heaved up and was sitting eskewed. Target fell back, as Ora let loose with the flamethrower, in such a frenzied burning that nothing could have survived. Target let out his breath explosively, and stood up, cradling the SMG, and moving forward slowly behind Ora. . .

As Target moved up behind Ora, he saw the marine
was perfectly still. Even though his vision was
fuzzy, he still guessed that Ora didn’t even breath.
Walking up to him, Target placed a hand on his
shoulder. “Are you alright?” And even here, he did
not see, or feel Ora’s movement, not even to take
breath.

The marine seemed tense, then suddenly, he
dropped the flamer, allowing it to clatter on the
floor. Lowering his extended arms slowly, he then
stood with a growl. Target backed away, utterly
bewildered. “Yes.” Ora grunted through clenched
teeth. “Now, can you help me get this flamer back
on?”

Target questioned his behavior critically. And
guessed that he wasn’t as ‘alright’ as he acted.
Walking to his side, he kneeled down. Looking at
his masked face, he could feel Ora’s intense gaze,
even from behind their mirrored visors. Placing a
hand gently back onto his shoulder, he made an
effort to make eye contact through the respiration
equipment. “Your not alright, are you?”

Ora gave a bit of a sigh, still coming from between
clenched teeth. “No, but it doesn’t matter. I am
needed, and I wont let you do this alone.”

Target tried to persuade Ora, his voice grim, and his
features; though hidden, where dismayed. “Ora,
your not much good to me if your hurt like this, I
can finish it on my own. I am a solider, I have arms
training, and there isn’t much more left to do.”

Ora lifted his head to look at Target a bit more
directly. “You forget Target.” Ora grunted, then
pushed Target back a bit and forced himself briskly
to his feet. “I am a solider as well, and we both are
expected to give our all. And no, I am not much
good to you like that. But-, but I wont slow you
down. We have to finish this mission. I can’t
do it without you, and you can’t do it without me.
Your half blind to start with, and your even more-so
now that we are in the dark. You can’t possibly take
on the flood, especially with your bad eyesight, and
no one to watch your back. No, I will help you,
even if it kills me.” Ora finished, then started to
pull his weapon over with a grunt and a slight
growl. He would get this thing on, even if he had to
do it by himself . . .

Target stared at Ora. He was shocked by his reactions. Ora was a soldier, and given to his own decisions for his health, but he was also a friend. No one had ordered him to help Target.

"Ora, its not like we had to go it this way. I am only important because of the plan. You are important also. Without you I can't crack that code. Or fight anything else off that happens to come around a corner.If you die it will be useless, because then we will have failed on our mission. We are both equally important. You to our survival and mission, and me to getting this damn thing back up and running.If your going to go along, your going to give me this-" Target said stepping forward, and pulling the flamer from Ora's grasp as he still tried to get it on. "And take this." Targte pulled a can of biofoam and bandages from his pack. "As much as I can figure whatever the injury is will probably be helped by this."

Ora stared at him with his mouth open. Pain lanced out across his chest from his ribs as he breathed. He knew that look on Targets face. It was the look he had gotten when that flood had crept through his body, while he was writhing in pain on that sterilized floor. It was the one that said he would never give up. It told Ora that he wasnt giving out on this. Ora wore a similar face, it said the same. A silent faceoff began. Each crew member vying for the spot of most stubborn. Ora opened his mouth to speak, and put his words as clear as he could. . .

Ora shook his head. “No. That wont do anything.
There are no entree wounds, just the force of that
weapon I think broke a rib or two. We would have to
cut the injured section open, reset the wounds, and
inject a Bio-Recombination back. This would
accelerate the healing process, but we can’t turn
back for that. It would take to long, and the plan
would be for nothing. Lets just hurry up and deal
with the flood. The sooner we kill it, the sooner I can
get this fixed. So stop wasting time.” Ora said
aggressively, clearly losing patience due to the pain.
Ora then took hold of the Flamer, and jerked it
slightly in Target’s grasp. Clearly, whatever pain he
was in, was intense, and was causing a lack of
patience, and severe aggression. “Don’t worry about
me Target. The code is cracked, and you still have
all of my hard copies incase you need them for
anything. I even have a copy of my most critical
notes hidden in a failsafe box under my desk. And
they are all written in English. You will need the
password for the box, or everything inside will be
destroyed. But I am positive you know what it would
be. Even still, I don’t have any intention of dying, I
never did. But we have to finish this plan, and kill
this flood entity. Or everything we have done thus
far will be a waste of my time, blood, and possibly
life. Now, if you will kindly give me my weapon
back, and get some welders and some large metal
panels, as well as safety hooks, and steel cable. We
can make a bridge over the wires and electrical
devices that remain, and cross this melted metal
hole. Because, once we get the main power back on,
we wont want to have to wade through electrical
wires now will we?” Ora said, slightly sarcastically
from between clenched teeth.

Target grudgingly released the weapon and stood.
Feeling he should be happy enough Ora wasn’t going
to help carry the metal sheets and such himself.
Leaving to collect what was asked, Ora stood watch,
and set up a pare of sentry guns to watch the room.
He noted where the flood had come from, and
wondered if they had gotten it, or if it got away. He
then backtracked to where Target had brought the
equipment, and picked up a device. Looking over it,
he say the name “Simman” written on across the
side of he textured plastic surface of the divice.
Switching it on, Ora watched the screen ask for a
password. Thinking long and hard, Ora brought up
what he knew about Target. This man had no family
Ora knew of, no relative, and no close contacts he
ever received mail from. He only played chess
because Ora like too, and Mechanics were a passion
of his, but not as much as other things. Ora then
thought a moment, but then nothing. Thinking,
trying to focus through the pain, he still got nothing.
Then, in a moment, he remembered clearly, one
brief mention from Target. Target may have had no
family, or friend, save for one. Smiling he started to
tap the keys, and procured the simple four letters
“Kain”. Realizing this was the one person Target
rarely mentioned, but the only one he ever did, it
would make a perfect password against the Covenant
ever accessing the schismatics that were locked
within this device. He recalled the name as the
schematics loaded. About five months from their
missions start, Target was still trying to make
contact on occasion with Ora. The air feeling
awkward with having another person around who
avoided social interaction even more Target himself.
During one of his one-sided conversations, he
mentioned doctors. Ora only scowled at the subject,
having his fill of medical physicians and
psychiatrists. Not that he ever needed them, but the
routine checkups were always an uphill battle. The
doctors complaining about the medical issues of
owning a reptile, and the problems with the hours of
exposure to various bacteria, as Ora spent more time
with the reptile then he did other people. And that,
being the psychiatrists problem. Lectures of how he
was socially deficient in skills, and productivity. SO
he didn’t really wish to hear of “doctors”. And
apparently Target agreed, on all cases but one. Dr.
Kain. Though he never gave a last name, this man he
said, was the one who saved his eyes, and his arm.
Ora was only mildly impressed at the time. Feeling it
was probably blown out of proportion. Ora almost
laughed to himself. Both of them had their flaws,
and problems. But both of them seemed to be
invaluable to each other at this time, regardless of
any differences they had in the past. With how
Target spoke of this “Dr. Kain” Ora knew this was
likely the only person that mattered to him through
his life, until perhaps now. Ora wouldn’t be
surprised if Target even outright hugged this doctor a
couple times before he left for the U.N.S.C..

Shaking his head, Ora looked over the schematics,
his head whirling as he tried to make sense of the
jumbled lines and blue backing. After tampering
with the controls a minute, he managed to make
sense of it all. Then found that the compartment
below the floor was yet another secret storage room,
but also served as a ventilation conduit. Supplying
the area with circulation and air conditioning. Also,
it seemed to house power for some of the sub
systems. They would have to secure the ventilation
duct before they could move on however. So the
flood doesn’t return this way . . .

Target sighed, as he looked over the supply room, trying to find some metal panels thick enough to build a bridge, or indeed a new floor. He was uneasy about all of this. Ora was there alone, with an unneutralized threat, and a possibly reflexive diminishing injury. Speeding up his search, he stopped suddenly as he uncovered a box, stamped for date of shipment only several days before their mission start. Cocking his head, Target gave it a knock, and pulled open the lid. Set atop whatever was inside, was a sheet of padding, imprinted with something. Target leaned down the read: "Highly Flammable Military Ordinance. Use is prohibited to military personnel only." Target squinted slightly to make it out, having to redirct the light setting behind him. Shrugging, he pulled the padding off slowly, and was surprised to uncover ten grenades, though they didnt look normal. Biting his lip, knowing every moment he wasted was another where Ora was alone, Target pulled onout and looked it over. It was completely red, shiny and bright, and seemed to be meant for aimed placement. Turning it around, he read: "Enemy Suppression Grenades. Warning: Discharges pressurized plasma upon activation after 2.04 seconds." Target raised an eyebrow, and dug back into the box. Checking under the grenades, he found a manual, which he pulled out, and flipped through, before immersing himself into the short summary.

Fifteen minutes later, Target came around the corner to see Ora still alive and well, and continuing his poking of the wires. Lugging the necessary metal along, with three boxes of fire grenades place on them like a sled, he stopped and left it with most of the equipment. Walking over to Ora, Target stared down into the hole. Then, reaching down, he looked around his equipment until he found his datapad. Switching it on, he entered the password, and saw the main screen come up. Among other information, there was a line which displayed the date and time of the last logon. Target always checked this just in case, even though that was about as paranoid as you could get.
Startled, he saw that it was within several minutes of now. Glancing over at Ora, who was too preoccupied to notice what he was doing, Target raised an eybrow. Looking back down, he smiled. Going into the logs, he saw he hadnt even needed more then one try. Smiling more, Target glanced over at Ora, and decided to let it alone. Going into the mathematical physics and engineering program, Target enter the parameters of the metal sheets, and also the hole on the ground, and came up with several support designs for a new deck emplacement. Switching the datapad off, Target set it down where he had picked it up, and walked over to Ora.

"Well, we have the necessary materials to cover it up, and indeed seal it. The problem comes with leaving something down there to get out."

Ora bit his lip and nodded.

"Im a bit apprehensive about that."

Target nodded in agreement and continued. "Well it seems the Central Intelligence left us some gifts before we took off." Target pulled out a fire grenade and tossed it to Ora, who caught it and looked over the label. Handing it back, making sure Target could see it in the partial darkness, he asked what it did.

"Well, apparently it emits a highly pressurized stream of plasma gas, just cool enough not to melt deckplates, but hot enough to sterilize the affected area. Now, each one is effective for about twenty square meters, and I have reviewed the storage room under here. Its about eighty square meters, so I estimate if we toss four down in there right before setting down the last deckplate, we can get anything in there beforehand. There is no way in or our of there but here, it was apparently waiting for us. Now I doubt its a combat form, I think it may be a couple dozen infection forms, hiding in a remote corner somewhere. The flamethrower probably put their systems into shock. So I am thinking this was planned to the letter."

Ora nodded and looked over to the metal plates doubling as a sled. "Are those all fire grenades?"

"Yes. There two more up there, but we dont need that much fire in one place. Theres ten to a box, so we will have many many more if we run into other places we dont feel like clearing ourselves, maybe even enough to get that final kill without ricking our lives." Target's anger at this thing had somewhat calmed. In some places, he now counted it as a favor. He was virtually unambushable by flood now, which he thought was quite a profit indeed. His vision would have gotten here eventually. The only plus about that was that his vision deteriorated less now, apparently a byproduct of the flood virus. He assumed it was because flood could regenerate tissue, usually as deformities, but here, it was just enough to battle the steady decay, and keep it at a steady, and very slow degradation.

Ora thought over the plan.

Leaning back against the wall, Ora tried to occupy his
thoughts with their plan, instead of the pain.
Thinking over it, he then realized it couldn’t
have been infection forms. And Target must have
missed the Ventilation duct Ora spotted in the
schematic. “Target.” Ora started, his voice
accompanied by a subtle growl of pain. “The fire
grenades wont be needed. I reviewed the
schematic a couple minutes before you arrived,
and thought over our attack earlier. And it is my
conclusion that infection forms had no possible
way of lifting that floor panel out from under us,
as that would require the ability to lift well over
three-hundred pounds upward. Also, there was a
ventilation duct I spotted earlier on the
schematics that went into that space. It provided
a large percentage of the circulation in this area.
As the room was merely covered by steel alloy
grating, so the air would just blow strait up
through the floor. Besides, my flamer ruined
everything down there. As the high temperature
was enough to melt almost anything. But I think
the flood retreated again once as we were still
heading for the floor.” Ora then paused,
coughing violently a moment, gripping hold of a
portion of half melted pipe handing from the
wall. His legs threatened to buckle under the
pain, and he nearly doubled over under it’s
oppressive edge. Target stood to the side and
moved over quickly, gripping his free arm,
Target helped try to keep him on his feet. Soon it
passed, and Ora groaned deeply as he stammered
more then a bit in pain. Target went to speak,
likely a inquiry of concern, but Ora cut him off
with a sudden idea. “You know.” He rasped ever
so slightly. “I think I know why the flood is
playing games with us. I think that beast is trying
to trick us into using this weapon up. I mean,
look, I am already at five percent. This thing
isn’t even really worth it’s weight anymore.” Ora
clenched his teeth tightly, letting go of Target
and unstrapping the weapon. The hunk of
weaponry then clattered to the floor in a thunder,
echoing down the halls in violent conflict with
the remainder of the metal floor. “What I think
we should do is go down into what is left of the
room, and weld a plate of heavy steel over that
air discharge duct below. It will keep the flood
from backtracking, then we can rebuild the floor.
After we are through with this, we will probably
have to change all the air filtration devices and
clean them before we can even safely remove
these respirators. So, lets get started.” Ora stated,
before grabbing a welder from the pile of tools
next to himself, then raising the SMG Target had
given him earlier to watch the vent. “I don’t
think I can make it down there, not like this. So I
will keep an eye on you from up here.” Ora
suggested, turning of the two sentry guns, so they
didn’t have to worry about getting in front of
their motion sensors.

Target sighed slowly, and sat down for a moment, motioning for Ora to sit beside him. As Ora eased downwards carefully, Target rubbed his eyes and looked over at Ora.

"I looked over that schematic for five minutes. I didnt see a thing. The hard truth is, that my vision is, basically, shit. I squinted and truned it to several angles, looking for almost anything. I found nothing. You will have to be my eyes from now on. From here on out, you will examine eveything we find, for any details I may miss. I have noticed occasionally, that certain blind spots from the disease originally, have enlarged slightly. As with everyone, my mind covers them up, with continuations based on the surrounding patterns and colors. From now on, we cant trust anything I dont see, unless you dont see anything either. So. This leaves us with a conundrum."

Ora's eyes shifted around in thought. He knew what Target meant. he thought for a while. "I think, that you knew you had probably missed something there."

Target lowered his eyes. "Yes, I did. But, I am just so tired of these games. I wanted so much to have an easy solution for once. That, and I knew, that it would be extremely dangerous for one of us or both of us, especially when we each have a disability now. But I dont think, that this form is waiting for that flamethrower to run out of gas. That just doesnt fit in with the intelligence it has displayed so far. And if it was waiting for a moment without that, it has had more then plenty."

Ora nodded slowly. "Maybe it needsto infect us, so that it can run the ship."

Target smiled. "My thougts exactly. If we arent here, it cant run the ship. Plus, we have the limbs needed to remove all of the blockages we have used behind us. Wherever this thing came from, and why it is so smart, are just details. I admit, I am curious. I heard that there were things called flood commanders. Certain forms with a much more prominent link with gravemind. That these allowed them to soak up and ally information for itself, and become more intelligent then any parasite should be."

Ora smiled now too. "Thats a bit biased now isnt it? Just because its a parasite does that make it less then worthy of intelligence?"

Target punched Ora in the shoulder jokingly, and instantly regretted it at the sound of pain from Ora. The pair sat in silence for a moment. Ora knew Target had been playing around. Also that he might have been striking out subconciously at his predicament.

"Well." Ora said slowly. "I think we just got nominated for the sorriest two-man-team this side of Kess'nho."

Target chuckled slightly, agreed. "And it seems, that we have something we need to think out rationally."

Ora paused a moment and chuckled. “You do realize we left
the sentry guns off don’t you?” Ora’s voice said cheerfully, but
some slight tone within it was off, like something was wrong.

Target then stood and looked down the hall, only to see the
door at the other end of the melted expanse open, a subtle
‘beep’ then issued and it closed once more. Slowly, Target
removed the energy blade from his belt, and with a fleck of his
wrist, the weapon flashed to life.

Ora stood with a grunt, and held up his SMG, and scanned in
front of them. “A game?”

Target paused a moment at Ora’s voice, then spoke back to
him. “A game?”

Ora chuckled. “Yes, a game. What do you think, Clue, or
Chess? Perhaps maybe Mouse Trap? Or, I know! Maybe a
game of duck hunt.”

Target became more and more perplexed with every moment
Ora spoke. “Wait.” Target spoke softly, a vague idea of what
his friend was getting at, starting to blur into focus. “Do you
mean-?”

Ora then cut target off. “Yes, duck hunt. Don’t you remember
Target? That archaic two-dimensional game? I do. Where I
would send that dog into the bushes, and the ducks would go
flying, then I would use my ever sharp eyes to tag them right
out of the air! I never missed one of those slimy fowls . . .”

“Yeah, I remember that game.” Target added, starting to get
what Ora was getting at. “Too bad for the dog if those duck
could bite back, ehh?”

Ora then tisked. “Don’t be silly, if those ducks tried to bite my
dog, he would rip them apart in a flash.” Ora emphasized the
last word ever so slightly. “And besides, I wouldn’t let my dog
get beat up by some chump duck! That dog’s my best friend
after all. I just wish I could go charging into those bushes
myself.” Target laughed lightly to himself over it. But then Ora
cut him off. “Target.”

The marine paused. “Yeah?”

“When you walk into the woods, what is the biggest difference
between the real thing, and duck hunt?” Ora added, his tone
slightly hushed, and a slight edge seeming to belay a controlled
intensity.

“There is more then just ducks out there?” Target guessed, but
feeling what he said didn’t cover the true answer.

“Yes, and though you are looking at ducks in front of you, one
of the most important things to remember is this isn’t a two-
dimensional world.” Ora finished pointedly, then went silent,
even his breath seeming to cease.

Target could easily guess at what Ora was saying. And
guessing, Target whipped around and saw Ora motionless,
standing in the hall, SMG aimed at past the marine, but directly
behind him, the flood combat form stood, its body mutated, its
flesh bloated, its surface slick with slime, and it’s precious
internal fluids, infection forms silently pulling themselves from
breaks in the putrid mass.

Target saw the danger, and was barely able to believe the
thing there behind them, after all the precautions they took. But
it didn’t matter, however it got there, it was as he saw, and it
was intent on making them, like itself.

Ora then quickly stepped to the side while Target charged the
creature, energy sword in hand, intent on ending this nightmare
once and for all. Ora growled loudly, resisting the edge of pain
caused by his rapid move. The creature now discovered
roared and struck out at the charging marine, Infection forms
becoming alert as well leapt from the beast to seek hosts. Ora
Quickly sited and fired at each one, bursting their fragile forms
rapidly in an effort to give Target his chance.

Target swiped at the incoming tentacle, cutting it from the
body in one clean motion, only to see the beasts other arm
raise, M90 ‘Komodo’ clutched within it’s deformed claws.
“Target, The Komodo!” Ora yelled, unable to get a clear shot
of the creature through Target. Ora made an effort to get a
better shot, moving around the two, but was it too late?

Target saw the Komodo swing up, and his eyes were set. In his mind there was the affirmation of what could happen, and what he could do. He was too far away from the komodo to render it useless with the sword, and the bastard was too clever. So he did something it wouldn't expect.

Flicking off the sword with a squeeze, he tucked and rolled. The flood had expected him to back away fearfully, and be in the best position for shooting for his carelessness. Instead, Target was now at his side, and the beast had put too much forward motion into the gun. this is where Target had him.

Target had been trained in close-quarters combat. He knew that, up close, a knife was at least marginally better than a gun, and the person with the firepower would very likely end up with a blade in his through, with the gun half raised. The plasma sword was useful, because he could activate it at the moments notice, but keep it safe beforehand.

Now he made very good use of this ability, and switched it on just as his fist was head for the chest cavity. The flood saw it coming, and tried to twist away. The bugger almost did too, but Target had known an enemy would do everything in their power to escape a blade. What he wasn't expecting was that the flood would drop the Komodo. This freed the extra mass of its body, and allowed it to step back much faster than Target had been planning for. His now ignited sword sliced through the front if its chest cavity, but no more. A blood-crudling screech rang in his ears, and he almost put his hands to his head - a fatal mistake if he ever made one. this was the first time he had heard the sound up close, and he realized how tortured and decayed the vocalisations were. And then, he knew he was dead but for the moment he had been given by the very creature which was attacking him now. Springing backwards, the sharp edge of a tentacle lashed and thudded into the deckplate where he had been. He landed behind Ora, and his head on the Komodo. Stars erupted and he was out.

Ora stepped to the side, then was surprised as Target lunged
forward in a roll. He had expected Target to back, just as the
flood did, but he intended on firing at it while Target was
vulnerable. But it didn’t happen that way. Ora raised his gun
lightly as Target then rose right into his line of fire, and stabbed
out at the vile combat form. Watching the scene play out, the
M90 was eventually dropped, and knocked over to his side,
then soon Target fallowed, landed, and didn’t move much at
all.

Ora then took action, responded, knowing he had to fight. He
also had to reacquire his gun as well, as it was all he could
reason would kill it. But getting his weapon would be a task,
he couldn’t simply pick it up, it would take too long. So he
would have to somehow buy time.

With this in mind, Ora’s mind soon flooded with a memory,
brief and too the point, a situation far away from the depths of
space, yet even still, not so different. Hunting, an accident, the
unexpected, then a series of actions that saved his life. It was
these actions that he remembered, and it was these that he did
next. Ora then fired his current weapon into the flood as he
backed, using his backing motion to deliver a controlled blow
to the weapon below Target’s head with his foot, dislodging it,
and sending it back a short distance. Then thrusting his arms
forward while he continued to back into a kneeling position
throwing the weapon, and quickly swipping his left hand back
to find the M90, the only thing he could think of to end this
nightmare. With his left hand’s fingers angled up, as his palm
nearly touched the floor in his sweeping motion, he hoped to
encounter and grasp the weapon, hoping it would be where he
intended.. As he did this, his right hand raised over his chest
while he leaned on his left foot for balance. The flood charged
ever closer, seeming only mildly slowed by the former attack,
it closed the space between them with effortless ease. As it
came withing a single foot, and thrust to attack, Ora raised his
right foot as his hand touched his weapon. And in one planned
action, kicked off against the wall to his left, and grasped his
gun, sending him and the weapon to the right side of the hall.
As controlled, timed, and well executed the motion was
however, the flood’s attack was not entirely fruitless.

Ora then felt his airborne motion jerk to a sudden stop as the
beast gripped hold of his leg. The sudden jerk racked the
marines body with pain, causing his whole body to
involuntarily tighten, however, he still kept hold of the weapon.

Target’s mind swam, thoughts and dangers passed away as
darkness and haze clouded him almost entirely. Knowing
somehow, he was supposed to be doing something, somehow,
Target was at a loss as his entire body seemed to lose feeling
nearly all together. Sound deemed to dull, and the noise of
gunfire barely caught his limited attention. His eyes opened
slightly in a reflexive action, but all still seemed unnaturally
dark. He then heard a voice, a yelp cut short, Ora’s yelp. And
with this, something he wasn’t able to focus on pulled him out
of the blackened nether, wrenching his consciousness back to
the world around him. Recalling danger now, he then, in one
fluid motion, leapt to his feet and pivoted toward the direction
he could hear Ora from, just in time to see Ora sail through the
air directly at him.

Target was still dazed, unable to properly register what it was
that approached him, and quickly dropped his weapon and
threw himself to the side to avoid it. That is when he saw the
flood right on him.

Ora then hit the floor hard, his body nearly writhing with the
immobilizing pain that took him, clouding his thoughts, his pain
to the point he felt he might explode. His grip on his weapon
was one of death, his knuckles stark in shade, his hand feeling
as though it would break itself around the weapon. He
couldn’t stop! He couldn’t succumb! No, it won’t end this
way. To his knowledge, Target was still out, and he couldn’t
just lay here and die. But then again, he tried to focus on the
reality of the situation, they wouldn’t die, no. They would be
infected, transformed as a basketball sized mushroom tears its
way into his still living chest, pushing all else aside, and
eventually talking over his body. Injecting toxins and
metamorphic fluids into his body, frying it, changing it, and
leaving nothing of himself standing. These thoughts strived to
force him up, to take action, even if it was one final action. He
had to move, he had too. And with just those thoughts, a shrill,
decayed, broken cry twisted through the air, the startle giving
Ora that last inch to force himself into a kneeling position, and
open his eyes.

Target heard Ora yell, but it was only a background noise
compared to the torrent of options his mind quickly whisked
together. Now he recalled what was going on in general, and
realized he was now unarmed. The flood struck out at Target
fast and hard, intent to kill. Leaving the Marine on the
defensive, using his agility to dodge the beast and move to its
side, using a carefully placed kick to the handle of the energy
sword, knocked it into the flood form’s ankle, cutting it deep,
causing it to drop down to one knee. But he couldn’t let it sit,
kicking the flood form in the face now, he inteded to catch it
unbalanced. His attack meeting with success, the flood fell
back against the wall, still trying to lash out, causing reckless
damage to itself as it tried to knock the energy sword away
from itself, the blade still effortlessly buried within it’s leg.
Target then moved to strike again, but a loud, daunting,
explosive roar echoed down the hall, and before the sound
actually registered to him, he felt himself suddenly coated in
slimy ichor. Target then stumbled back, trying to gain footing,
and recover from the startle, only to hear another roar, and
feel the slick, grotesque sensation of being further coated in
goo. A clatter then ensued, as though an armored body
collapsed, then all went quiet . . .

Target watched as the body crumpled to the ground, and a feeling lifted from him. It was not just that the burden of destroying this beast was gone. It was something more, like a ripping fear had been banished. It was then that he realized that the psychic link which he had with this creature had been much stronger, even if subtler, than he had expected. It had darkened his thoughts and buried his mind on more confusion than the situations had merited. He let out a brief laugh, and passed out, just as Ora slumped to the ground.

He awoke to the sound of a voice yelling at him.

"Target! Simman Ferenga wake up this instant! You're not physically injured beyond consciousness."

Target opened one eye, and for a moment he was confused, and then it slowly slid into place. Jolting upward, he looked around quickly. Ora lay unconscious on the ground several meters away, and the body of the flood commander was right in front of him.

"What happened?"

Rena's voice rang out sarcastically, "You've won the gold medal for bravery."

Target grimaced, and stepped over the dead flood form. Moving to Ora, he rolled him over, and checked him for injuries. At that moment, he opened his eyes, and Target smiled at the M90 X shotgun barrel that he was looking into before Ora realized who he was. Ora searched Target's face for a moment.

"Is it over?"

"Depends. Gyro might be more well-suited to make that analysis. Maybe a slight bit of vociferation close to the audio receiver canal on the side of his neural processing partition might be enough to have him tell us?"

Ora smiled, and held out a hand. Target grasped it, and pulled him onto his feet.

"Yes. Rena. Would you do the honors?"

Rena laughed, "No need to ask, putting him on now."

Ora listened to the static for a moment, and Target imagined the flicking of his reptilian tongue, and maybe a swish of the tail. Rolling his eyes, he cut him off and turned to Ora.

"All right. We may have killed this damned thing but we have other problems. Now that this immediate threat is over we have to consider other ones. Earth and ONI are out of contact, and I don't think we're going to have much luck getting them back. We need to remove our countermeasures, and I think we have some messes to clean up."

Ora nodded. "Gyro agrees."

Target rolled his eyes, and spoke to the communication system, "Rena. First thing's first. I want you to take those scans that were made in my detox experience and check out to see if my brain chemistry shows any difference from beforehand. I don't doubt it but I'd like to see the proof. If I really do have a psychic link with the flood, I want to be sure, and then work out the advantages and disadvantages. Gyro, I want you to be monitoring the temperature of the ship. Anything changes, you alert Ora the way you do that. I've got some thoughts about you now that I've been through this, but those'll have to wait." Target now turned to Ora. "You get up to the infirmary, and get some pain meds. With you the way you are, you'll need a day at least before we can start major repairs. Just switch off the sentry guns, I'll remove them on the way up. I'm sorry, but you may be injured internally, and we can't take a rosk anymore. Don't lug that shotgun with you - it's too heavy and it will be too effective anyway. The most you may encounter will be parasitic infection froms, so take the SMG. I'll see you when I see you."

Ora hesitated a moment, looking like he was about to refuse, but Target saw him wince a bit as he took a particularly deep breath. Ora smiled, knowing that had assured his hospitalization, and nodded. "I'm not going to sit on a bed though. As soon as the medical scans are over, I'm heading up to the bridge with Gyro. I'll monitor things there."

"Good. After I get a grav-pad down here, I'll dispose of this thing, and start to move through our route, deconstructing everything that needs it. Then it'll be good to have you on the bridge, because even though daddy's gone, doesn't mean the kiddos don't got them needles. I may have been vaccinated, but you and Gyro aren't. So be wary, and I know I don't have to tell you to watch your surroundings. After I'm done, we'll need to move into a single room, and have Rena cleanse the ship of any unwelcome inhabitants. While I'm working, you'll be planning that. I don't know what's aboard that could effectively rid us of unknown visitors in the night, but we need to use it as soon as I'm done. After that, we're going to make this ship good enough to fight a war - our war. And then we're gonna go after those Covenant bastards. Earth's gone, I think, and so is most of the shit on it, most likely. Everything I have here is all that's left, and there's no use being anchored to a ball of glass. So we go, and we fight these megalomaniacs. you know what I mean?"

Ora scowled for a moment. Since the flood had died, he had taken on a more silent demeanor, but he was expressive. His face hardened as he realized Target was probably right. All of those helpless creatures on that planet were gone, and they weren't coming back. He scowled, and nodded curtly. "I guess you've learned to play chess a lot better since we started having problems."

Target was quizzical. "Chess?"

Ora smiled, "Strategy is strategy."

Target grinned. "Well, I was half-blind, a bad shot, and I hopped around in an annoying manner that may have ended up making you shoot me. I had to think of something!"

Ora turned, and headed upstairs. Target turned around, and his demeanor darkened as he realized the work he was in for. . .

Ora made his way down the hall, intent on returning to the
medical station. His steps staggered, his breath forced and
broken. Every breath hurt, every step seemed wavering, every
motion felt as though it drew much of his strength. He posed
as best he could while still in Target's sight, but once the door
closed behind him, he leaned heavily on the wall, hoping to
releave some of the effort. Finally reaching the latter, he
looked up at it sadly, but daring not to sigh, for fear of further
pain. His ribs were definantly broken, and he believed one of
which punctured his right lung, he did all he could not to caugh,
not to react to the blood filling it, but he didn't know how
much longer he could take it. Growling, Ora took hold of the
latter, he couldn't sit down, even as he thought over it, he felt
increasingly tired, and his vision started to darken slightly. He
didn't have time to wait, he had to move, crawl blind if he had
too! But he couldn't rest, or he would likely drowned in his
own blood. This whole thing was starting to very much feel
like a bad idea . . .

Target jumped slightly as a voice came from a nearby display
panel. “Target.” The voice started.

Target let out a slight sigh of relief as he looked toward it.
“Yes Rena?”

“It’s about Ora.” The computer started to the point. “You
should really go get him.”

Target paused a moment, then spoke, his voice edged with
concern. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think he can make it to the medical station on
his own. I know he has at least one broken bone, a number of
fractures, and his body is probably about down off the
adrenalin high by now. You’ll probably find him passed out
somewhere on the way to the medical center. Now he is as
good as alive if he gets to the medical center, but if he doesn’t,
there isn’t anything I can do about it. So why don’t you go
catch up to him and see too it he makes it to the infirmary,
alright?” Rena briefly explained, then ended with a suggestion.
However, without a word, Target was already through the
door and quickly catching up to Ora as quickly as his legs
would carry him.

Ora made his effort up the maintenance latter one bar at a
time, he shook his head lightly, trying to clear the darkness,
trying to stay awake. This was bad, and he knew it. The only
display panel nearby was back at the bottom of the latter, and
it was a manual device, so he couldn’t use it from here to get
help. As he gripped again at another bar, suddenly it seemed
the world had lost color somewhat, and everything grew
darker. Soon he felt a chill over himself, and knew quickly he
was about to pass out. It was all he could do to place his
hands on either side of the latter rails, and then do the same
with his feet, making every effort to remain conscious long
enough to reach the flood and maybe ever ease his fall once he
had landed. However, this wasn’t the case. About half way
through his descent, his vision went dark, and his body numb,
except the feeling of cold sweat against his skin.

Target made it to the door just outside the maintenance access
junction, which is where he would then use the latter to make
his way up to the primary level, and hopefully find Ora.
However, as he reached to the door, he heard a clatter, as
though something collapsed or fell. Opening the door without
further hesitation, he saw Ora laying at the base of the latter
out cold. Rena was right, his injuries were bad . . .