Halo: Indelible Past/Chapter Twelve

"Shit," Ralph muttered, kicking the scraps of what had once been a medical dolly out of his way. "Gangs really worked this place over didn't they?"
"The Commander's had Vulture and Hornet squadrons targeting this place at regular intervals," Jian's former leader--who Felix now knew as Jake-G293--replied as he swept the hallway with his assault rifle. "He wanted to deter the target from holing up here."
"And that worked out real well, didn't it?" Ralph snorted. "Waste of fuel and ammo. He should have just taken out the supports and brought this dump down from the bottom up."
Ever since Felix had landed on the hospital roof with his two new subordinates, protocol had prevented them from using their private helmet link against him. Unfortunately, that was apparently as far as protocol went with Team Jian, or at least with Ralph-G299.
"Hey, 116," the surly commando called over to him. He gestured with his shotgun at a bullet-riddled operating room. "Got a few bodies in here. Think we should check 'em over."
"If they aren't wearing armor, ignore them," Felix instructed. "The cleanup teams will follow us in for body identification. And you'll call me Lieutenant Commander or sir from now on, is that clear?"
"Not really," Ralph said. "First one's two much of a mouthful and I've never been big on that second one. Besides, I always call cyborgs by their tags, and you're more cyborg than the rest of them."
He casually drew his pistol and fired three times into the empty room. The silenced weapon made small chink noises as it went off.
"Just checking," he said, strapping the weapon back onto his SPI armor.
Felix decided to ignore the quip about his prosthetic arm and advanced further down the hall, being careful to watch for any suspicious place where their quarry might have left a booby trap. He didn't think the target would have moved this far up in the building to do something like that, but assumptions like that could be deadly in situations like this.
"That's the last of the rooms," Jake reported. "Floor clear."
"Copy that." Felix flashed a quick update to Rosch, who was overseeing their progress in his command dropship. The Commander would dispatch ODSTs to secure their progress after they'd cleared the next floor down. He was still extremely wary about losing any more of the Marines to their target.
"You know what we should have done?" Ralph asked as they approached the flight of stairs that would take them to the next floor.
"What should we have done, Ralph?" Jake replied. Felix was beginning to realize that one of Jake's best qualities was his saint-like patience for Ralph's incessant chatter.
"Given everyone in this place five minutes to come out, then blown it to hell." Ralph sidled down the first few steps, sweeping the darkened stairwell with his shotgun. "We've wasted enough time trying to waste this asshole. Why are we worried about damage control now?"
"You always question orders, Warrant Officer?" Felix demanded, following him down the stairs. Jake fell in behind, covering their rear.
"Hell yeah, 116," Ralph shot back. "Why do you think I'm still alive?"
And then a pair of grenades soared up out of the darkness. The three Spartans had just enough time to throw themselves flat on the stairs before they detonated. Felix swore as his shields flared and his helmet cams stuttered, evidence of an EMP blast. His armor was designed to cope with such attacks, but they still played hell with all his electronics.
Just as Ralph was scrambling to his feet, a small, nimble figure darted up from below, launching itself up from one of the railings below and perching flawlessly on the railing a few feet from where Felix lay. He had just enough time to make out a thin armored body and a head with the slit-visored "recon" helmet of an ONI operative before it raised a pistol and opened fire.
***
David twiddled his fingers, appreciating the new feeling that was trickling into them. The medical team had three techs working on him, re bandaging wounds and pumping biofoam into his armor. Their guards had him covered, but he made a point of keeping his arm free in case the techs decided to try anything.
This entire team was a mystery to him. They couldn't belong to any of the gangs running around New Madrigal, or else they'd have shot him to pieces the minute he'd kicked in their door. He'd been desperate, more desperate than he could ever remember being, and these people hadn't even asked for payment before they'd opened up their bags and gotten to work. Altruism was rare in the galaxy Kahn worked in; it wouldn't be good to expect generosity like this in the future.
He noticed that one of the guards was glaring at him. "Problem?" he asked pleasantly. The man just shot him another dirty look and tightened his grip on his gun.
"You mercs and your staring contests," the man that David presumed was in charge muttered. "It's a wonder you don't all just explode from testosterone, the lot of you."
David saw no need to come to his profession's defense, especially since the doctor was mostly right. Overblown machismo was rampant in most guns-for-hire. Out here they always seemed to have overinflated egos and itchy trigger-fingers. Half the time it made his job that much more easy.
He would have to keep an eye on the angry guard, though. Guys like that weren't variables he could afford to ignore.
One young woman, clad in what looked like one of the stripped-down semi powered infiltration suits that seemed to be everywhere these days, was pacing back and forth, her head bent as if she was listening to something.
"She just engaged them," she announced to the room. "She'll try delaying tactics to keep them slowed down while we try to pull out."
The lead doctor glanced up. "Pull out to where?" he demanded. "The UNSC has this place surrounded. They'll just shoot us if we run out of here, and if we're calmer they'll just arrest us for helping criminals."
"Then leave 'em behind," one of the mercenaries suggested. "Better yet, turn them in when we get out of here."
Right. It was already time to get going. Kahn eyed the pile where his discarded equipment lay a few feet away. He couldn't let the doctors or their guards confiscate them or he'd be even worse off than when he'd come in here. His hand made its way towards the pistol on his hip.
He didn't want to kill any of these people, but if worse came to worse he wouldn't hesitate to shoot his way out.
Though he did have to wonder who they had working for them who had the balls to try delaying tactics on Spartans.
***
Felix scrambled to his feet, scanning the darkened stairwell with his assault rifle. The nimble assailant was nowhere to be seen.
"Where'd he go?" Ralph demanded. He had advanced down the stairs, covering the next corner with his shotgun. "What the hell's going on?"
Jake sidled past Felix and looked down into the stairwell's depths. He jerked it back just as a dull crack echoed through the dim chamber and something fast and heavy sounding shot by.
"Sniper round," he reported, ducking low beside Felix. "Looks like he's got rappel lines clipped to different levels. Any way we go down, we'll take fire."
"What's his position?" Felix asked. "Did you see any more with him?"
"I didn't have time," Jake replied. "He could be anywhere in here."
That complicated things. "Warrant Officer, cover our backs when we reach the next floor. Lieutenant, stick with me. Keep ready for any more ambushes."
***
The time came when the glaring merc made his move.
Kahn had been shifted off to the side as the doctors focused on stabilizing the rest of their patients. He slumped against the cracked wall, playing the dazed cripple for all he was worth. Strength had returned to his limbs--the medical attention and his body's ingrained resilience had seen to that--but he was in no hurry to let these people know that.
So when the merc slipped away from the rest of the group and stalked towards him, David didn't ready any of his weapons or even move from where he was sitting. Instead, he gave the glowering man a friendly nod.
"Nice to have some company," he commented with a smile. The effort hurt his cheeks. "I was getting lonely over here."
"Cram it," the merc hissed. "You think I don't know who you are?"
David cocked an eyebrow. "Now what do you mean by that?"
The merc's lip twitched as he pulled out his sidearm. "You think this is funny, Kahn? You ruined my career back on Mars, you piece of shit. Killed half my men and the ambassador I was supposed to protect."
Kahn pretended to think for a moment. He was playing a dangerous game here, but angry men made more mistakes than others. They certainly let their guard down easier. "Be a bit more specific. I've done a few jobs on Mars."
He saw the merc's eyes blaze. "Three years ago, asshole. The summit at Johnson naval base."
Kahn nodded sagely. "Oh yeah. I did fuck that one up pretty royally didn't I? Got the mark, but having to shoot through all the grunts first isn't really my style."
That did it. The man knelt and brought his pistol up against Kahn's forehead. The cool barrel bored into his skin as the merc ground it in, hard. "You son of a bitch!" he spat. "You're the reason they're here, this is you're fault..."
"Raines," said a quiet voice. "Put the gun down."
Both men glanced up. The brown haired doctor, the one in the dented armor, was standing over them. She was unarmed, her arms clasped harmlessly in front of her, but David could see a glint in her eyes. Not anger or even annoyance, but concern. This one was actually worried they might hurt each other.
David looked into her young, pretty face with a newfound apprehension. Someone like this was dangerous, far more dangerous than this washed-up security guard.
"Sorry, doctor," the merc called Raines growled. "But I can't do that."
"He's our patient," the young woman observed. "We don't threaten patients."
David was aware that the entire room was staring at them now. He would have to play his cards just right here; Raines's logic would sway more than just his fellow guards.
"This guy's David Kahn!" Raines protested. "He's the one they're after! If we turn him in, we solve everyone's problems right here, right now."
"I wouldn't bet on it," David put in, keeping up the casual act. "I know the guy in charge of this mess, and he won't let you go just because you hand me over."
"You be quiet," Raines told him coldly. The pistol dug deeper into his forehead, and a few of the other guards had their weapons raised as well.
"We haven't turned any of our other patients in," the young doctor said patiently. "Not the gang members, not the rebels. We aren't starting here."
She paused and cocked her head, listening to something in her ear. David realized that she must be wired.
"Let's all just put down the guns and calm down a bit," the lead doctor advised. "Right now, just focus on closing shop."
The young doctor nodded. "We still have time. Nimue has the Spartans running all over the upper floors looking for her."
David moved before the name had fully left her mouth. In a flash his arm came up, snatching Raines's pistol away and pressing his own squarely against the merc's chest.
"Sorry," he said, as politely as he could, to the stunned room. "Mind repeating that? I could have sworn you said Nimue."
He was aware of the incoming Spartans and the UNSC task force surrounding the building, but right then and there all that mattered to him was knowing for sure.
Nimue was here. In this building.
And so was David's entire universe.
***
"This is horse shit," Ralph growled darkly, thumbing more cartridges into his shotgun with vicious force. "This asshole isn't even the guy we're after!"
As disappointed as he was with the warrant officer's attitude, Felix had to agree. They had spent nearly an hour combing through five floors of abandoned hospital, dodging booby traps set by the short, wiry attacker who would emerge for a few seconds to squeeze off a few rounds before vanishing again, leaving them chasing shadows and stumbling into even more booby traps. So far the attacks hadn't breached anyone's armor, but they were successfully slowing the search time down to a crawl.
"Stay focused," Felix warned. "No one's escaping this building with the siege the commander has it under. We continue the sweep."
"Yeah, whatever," Ralph muttered. "When we catch this fucker, I'm shoving this shotgun so far up his ass he'll be spitting shot out his mouth."
"Keep dreaming, Ralph," Jake said distantly. "Lieutenant Commander, we need to speed this up."
Felix kept his assault rifle up at the ready. "And how do you suggest we do that, lieutenant?"
Jake raised a hand and tapped his helmet. "I've been working on the local comm frequencies, and just about every time we get hit I trace an encrypted link from around our location."
"You think Kahn's putting him up to this?"
"Maybe Kahn, maybe somebody else. Whoever it is, they're a few floors below us." Jake indicated the floor plan in their team HUD. "Even if it isn't Kahn, I say we move in now and take them out."
Felix nodded in agreement. The plan made sense. "He's not going anywhere," he said, eyeing the floor plan carefully. "But I'm not taking any chances."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm getting support for this. Pin down exactly where that signal's coming from." Felix stepped away, opening up a secure link to Rosch. Something told him the commander would be more than happy to give him the kind of support he needed.
***
David kept his pistol trained on the furious Raines as a terrified doctor passed the last piece of his battle armor with a quivering hand. He took the chest plate with his free hand and carefully fitted it to his bandaged chest. "Looks to be in order," he said, indicating the small pile of his equipment.
He turned to the rest of the clinic staff. "Take cover and wait for this all to blow over."
"Easy for you to say," the head doctor said resentfully. "All this slaughter is your fault."
David shrugged. "My fault? Maybe. Or maybe it's the bright spark who put Yuri Rosch in charge of an urban hunt that's at fault."
The brown haired young woman, the one in fragmented SPI armor, eyed him warily. "Yuri Rosch?" she asked slowly.
"Office of Naval Intelligence," David replied with an indifferent shrug. "Hard line loyalist. The man's a basket case, if you ask me, but it looks like someone pulled his career out of the gutter for this op. Who else would co-opt a fleet of Vultures and an army of ODSTs to kill someone like me?"
"And what do you want with Nimue?" This question had an edge to it. Kahn was good at watching how the whole room reacted to certain individuals and from the slight flickering of eyebrows and cocking of heads he could tell that they weren't used to seeing this one--armored though she was--at sharp interrogation.
"I have a vested interest in her safety," he said carefully. There were so many variables now--the UNSC, these doctors, Raines, Nimue. He was keenly aware of how his life and his life's work hinged on how he handled all those variables in the next few minutes. "The real question here is what she is to you."
"She's my friend," came the defiant response. "That's all there is to it."
Kahn felt a twitch of surprise at the word friend. Nimue had friends. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? What would it mean for him to judge her either way?
"Alright," he said, decades of practice keeping the sudden conflict hidden beneath the veneer a of calm, professional mercenary. "You can come with me then."
He pushed Raines away. "I'd take cover if I were you. If the stories about Rosch are true, he's liable to take down the whole building."
Raines turned and glared at him. "What's to stop me and mine from shooting you in the back?" he demanded.
"The fact that you just threatened me like that." Kahn shrugged. "Don't piss me off even more than you already have. If I were you, I'd be worried about the source of your next paycheck."
He bent down and retrieved his equipment, rapidly strapping the components into their places on his armor. His body still ached, but it was a dull, manageable ache, nothing he hadn't dealt with before. Now all he needed to do was find Nimue, evade some kind of Spartan hunter-killer team, and escape a siege of enough UNSC troops to assault Sanghelios.
Just another day at the office.
He gestured at the brown haired doctor. "Let's go."
Her eyes flicked over him, more testy than defiant. "And why should I?"
"Because I'll need backup if I'm going to get Nimue away from those Spartans," David said, slipping his helmet on. "You look like you can handle yourself in a fight. Besides, I'm interested in hearing how you met our mutual friend."
She stepped forward, sliding her own SPI helmet on. "And what's she to you?" she asked.
Kahn had to stop for a whole five seconds, unable to find the right words to answer her.
"My daughter," he said finally. "I'm her father."
Category:Actene