"Why aren't they opening fire?" Trent asked, the horror creeping into his voice. They watched as the escape pods made their long, slow march towards the Darkwind. Any second now, both men expected to see the classic blossom of Archer Missiles, which might not have been worth much against the Covenant but could for damn sure deal with a couple of dozen escape pods. But there was nothing. Trent realized he'd been holding his breath in anticipation, and let it out in a slow, miserable exhale as the first pod crashed into the hull of the Darkwind.

It was quickly followed by a second and third, and almost immediately followed by even more. Eric was shaking his head.

"They must've been listening in, or something," he muttered.

"They're a lot smarter than we thought," Trent agreed begrudgingly. "Head for that hangar, there. We'll land and help out. Actually, call up Childs really quick." Eric nodded and silently did as he was asked. A moment later, one of the screens cleared to show Childs.

"So I imagine you've got some idea of what's happening?" Trent asked.

"Yes. Nothing's changed, not exactly. Get the Marker to Hangar Twelve. There's a contingent of ODSTs waiting for you there. They'll guard the Marker. I've been in touch with the Captain of the ship...something's gone really, suspiciously wrong with his security system all of a sudden and he's deaf and blind without that system. I want you and Eric to go to the system's core and fix it, then maybe we can get this mess under control."

"Why don't you want the Marker on your ship? It'd be a lot easier," Eric said suddenly.

Childs shook his head. "No. It's too dangerous. I don't have the proper security here and the Marker...seems to have ill effects those in close proximity to it. I'd advise you two not to linger once you get onboard, you both look horrible. Especially you, Eric."

"You really know how to lay on the compliments, boss," Eric grumbled as he brought the Pelican towards Hangar Twelve. Childs cut the link without further comment and Eric and Trent waited while the Pelican finished coming into the ship. Trent checked out his weapons, making sure everything was ready for action. He stared ahead at the hangar as the Pelican landed. It looked intact, though a few monstrous corpses littered the deckplates. He was relieved to see a contingent of a dozen ODSTs in full armor waiting for them.

Once they landed, the pair exited the Pelican and met with the ODSTs. They looked at the pair inquisitively.

"Guard this Pelican with your life," Trent said simply. The ODST apparently in charge just nodded and began giving out orders to the others, who started taking up defensive positions. Trent and Eric hurried across the bay to a console at its far side. Eric plugged into it and called up a map of the ship. Within a few moments, he and Trent had the route to the security core worked out. The men set out into the infested ship.

The sounds of combat aboard the Darkwind rose and fell around them as hundreds of men and women fought for their lives. Trent kept his attention focused, but glanced over at Eric as they hurried down the brightly-lit corridor. The man looked worse than ever. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his face gaunt and almost deathly pale now. Trent wondered how bad he looked. He decided he didn't want to know.

Another hard slog. How many of these had Trent gone through? How many more were there in his life? The corridors were rife with conflict, and they came across a dozen different firefights, bypassing most, but stopping to help with a few of them. The Marines seemed to be holding their own, but Trent and Eric knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. So, eventually, they stopped helping out.

The Darkwind had become a twisted nightmare of flickering corridors by the time the pair reached the security core. It was a large room, the ceiling twenty feet over their heads. Most of the floor space was taken up by bulky equipment. The pair of men split up, doing a hasty search of the room. It appeared almost untouched by the conflict, and something immediately threatened Trent's paranoia-sharpened combat senses.

"Here," Eric said quietly, his voice strained, as though he were putting up with a great deal of pain. He found a console and hurriedly accessed it. Trent kept watch, his eyes lingering on the deeper shadows that seemed to plague the edges of the room. Something was wrong here. Deeply, horribly wrong.

"This is weird," Eric muttered, looking up from the console. He glanced over at a panel on the wall that seemed undamaged.

"What?" Trent replied apprehensively. He kept his shotgun ready. Eric turned and began to walk over to the panel in question.

"Seems like this equipment was damaged, but the panel looks fine." He reached the panel and pried it open. The space behind the panel birthed a line of blue-white sparks, causing Eric to step back slightly. He stared into the guts of the ship, beyond the panel.

"Yes, this was done intentionally. I just have to repair some wires, replace a few-" He leaped back suddenly as a scythe came out from a shadowy crevice to his right. He backed up to Trent and they both kept their guns trained on the niche in between the wall and a big piece of machinery. Something intimidating stalked out of the shadows.

It resembled one of the original monsters Trent had encountered, though its original arms had grown long, lethal looking scythes, instead of arms that grew out of its shoulders. It was huge, easily eight feet tall, and encased in black, living armor, much like the titan they'd fought back onboard the Icarus. It loosed a roar of brutal fury as it began to advance on the pair of men. Trent and Eric opened fire, easily blowing off both its arms and its legs.

The creature fell to the deckplates and began thrashing violently, little more than a torso and a mutilated head. Trent began to walk forward, to put it out of his misery, but then faltered as new arms and legs erupted from its body.

The thing began to climb to its feet.

"You have got to be shitting me," Eric whispered.

"Eric, make the repairs, I'll take care of this thing," Trent replied. Eric glanced over at him uncertainly for a moment, then nodded. Trent began moving away, deeper into the room, pumping out shells into the broad chest of the living nightmare. He drew its attention. It roared and set off after him, not moving particularly fast, as though it knew he had nowhere to go and it had all the time in the world. Trent swallowed nervously.

He blasted the thing's legs off as soon as it was halfway across the room and Eric slipped over to the panel. He could see the tech was working as quickly as possible. Trent tried to give himself some breathing room and blasted its arms off, too. He quickly patted himself down, gathering up shells and feeding them into the shotgun. If he had more shells, he might be able to play keep-away long enough for Eric to get the job done and then help him come up with something. Unfortunately, he had enough shells for another two full loads.

He cocked the gun and waited as the beast began to regenerate itself. Trent felt panic gnawing at him. He hadn't before run into a monster he couldn't straight up kill with bullets or grenades. Grenades...that gave Trent an idea. He blew holes in the limbs of the creature as it advanced on him again, then did a quick count of his grenades. He didn't like the amount he had left: three frags, nothing else.

"Eric!" he called.

"Yeah?!"

"How many grenades you got on you!?"

There was a brief pause, then, "Two!"

Trent sighed. It'd have to do. "Throw 'em over!"

Eric tossed them hurriedly over his shoulder. Trent caught them and pocked them. He turned around, prepared to waste another four shells and reload, and barely had time to dodge back as the beast clawed at him.

"Shit!" he snapped, retreating hurriedly. It was getting faster. He quickly blew its legs off, leaving its arms, and ran over to the far wall. There was a window there, the only one in the room. Trent worked fast, he fired the last two shells in his gun into the window, hurriedly reloaded with his last eight, then began beating on the window with the butt of the gun, trying to soften it up. It cracked, but only a bit. He spun and blasted out the arms and legs of the monster, which was dangerously close, then laid all five grenades in a pile right up next to the window.

"Eric! How long?!" Trent cried.

"Done!" Eric shouted back, slamming the panel shut.

"Suit up!" Trent pulled the pin on one of the grenades and began sprinting towards the door, while simultaneously sealing his suit. There was a pause, and he made it a good distance, when all five of the grenades blew in rapid succession. Trent glanced over his shoulder as he immediately began to feel the pull of out-rushing atmosphere. The beast, which had just regrown its legs, was ravaged by the explosion and sucked out the hole Trent had made. He smiled grimly, and then continued fighting against the increasing pressure.

It was a close call, but the pair managed to make it out the far door, at the end of it being forced to crawl along the deckplates. When they were out, trying to recover their breaths, Trent patched into the comms network and sought out the Captain.

"Yes, this the Captain, who the hell am I speaking to?" He sounded harried and bitter.

"Specialist Trent Temple, from ONI. Look, Captain, we've got your security network back online. How are things going?" Trent replied.

"From bad to worse. All getting the network back up has done has showed me how hopeless the situation is. I don't know what these things are, but they seemed to be spreading faster than the damned Flood. I'm calling for an abandon ship. I swear I've been betrayed by someone on the inside," the man replied.

Eric cut in. "I'd have to agree with out, Captain. The damage done to the security core was very deliberate. And something was waiting for us there. Listen, once you get your people to the escape pods, I'd advise you to plot a course to the nearest sun. It's less than a quarter light-year from here, it's where I sent the Icarus."

There was a brief pause, then, "I'll do that." The Captain sounded very resigned, and very tired. "She was a good ship...but now she's gone bad. I hope whatever you bastards at ONI were looking for was worth it." The Captain signed off without another word. They began to hear his voice over the main comms, calling for an immediate evacuation. Childs' voice almost immediately filled both their heads.

"Trent, Eric, get back to the hangar with the Marker, now. Something's wrong." He sounded panicked. Both men shot off, racing through the derelict passageways full of blood and broken light. Uncertain shapes shifted in the darkness and Trent tried to ignore them. Several minutes later they burst into the hangar and stopped. Almost all of the ODSTs were dead, save for one, who was currently walking up the ramp to the Pelican that still held the Marker.

"Hey!" Trent called. He raised his pistol. The ODST hesitated, then reluctantly turned and fixed Trent with a solid stare. Trent was briefly thrown off by the stare. It was backed up by eyes that glowed a deep crimson from within. The face inside the helmet was lean and gaunt and very pale, but it did not look unhealthy.

More like deadly.

"Temple...I was wondering when you and Staccato would show up," the man said with a dark grin. Trent could sense Eric's distress at his side and risked a glance. Eric looked like he was barely keeping himself together now. He looked back at the mystery man.

"Who are you?"

"Razor...and your end."

"Are you Black Ops?" A look of brief surprise passed across Razor's face, but it came and went so fast that Trent thought he might have imagined it.

"Very astute, Temple. Don't bother following." Eric suddenly cried out and collapsed. Trent turned, distracted, to find Eric crumpled on the floor. He wasn't obviously injured, but Trent knew he'd need a more in-depth examination at a medical facility to verify anything. By the time he'd turned back, Razor was gone and the back ramp was closing. Trent yelled and began running forward, firing into the closing Pelican, hoping for a lucky shot. But the Pelican finished shutting and lifted off before he'd crossed even half the distance.

It slipped out of the hangar and was gone. Distantly, Trent could hear roaring and shrieking. He hurried back to Eric and lifted him, making for another nearby Pelican. He tried to check him over for more wounds, trying to see if it was something Razor had done, but finally surmised that he must have been overwhelmed by the deadly nature of the Marker.

"Childs! Childs, answer me dammit!" Trent shouted.

"Trent, talk to me, what's going on!?"

"Some Black Ops bastard named Razor just stole the Marker!"

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah! Get on him! Disable his engines or something!"

"He'll never be able to outrun is, Pelicans don't have slipspace drives. Wait...oh no. You've got to be-oh no." Trent hurried up the ramp. He felt the maddening headache, the pressure of insanity, gently decreasing to more tolerable levels now that the Marker was out of his presence. He deposited Eric into one of the seats, hit the close button on the back ramp and then strapped him in. Once he made sure the ramp was closed, he hurried forward towards the cockpit.

"What's going on, Childs?"

"A ship...it was cloaked. It's been here all this time. Oh dear God, it's-" Childs' voice disappeared in a sudden haze of static and Trent was seized with the immediate fear that the Sunstrider had been destroyed. He strapped into the pilot's seat anyway and ran through the warmup procedures. It wasn't like they could stay here.

Immense relief flooded his system as he cleared the hangar and spied the Sunstrider. It was still there, but now it was listing gently to one side, and it looked unusually darkened. At least it wasn't destroyed. All around him, Trent could see escape pods. He focused on the massive, looming shape of the previously cloaked ship. Black Ops had cloaking technology now? He spied Razor's Pelican and prepared to follow, but almost immediately the tiny Pelican was swallowed up by the massive ship. And then the Black Ops ship dropped into slipspace and was gone.

Trent sighed, feeling all of his lethargy catching up with him. They had won this battle. It seemed like they were doing that a lot lately. Too much, too often. Trent turned the Pelican and began heading for the Sunstrider.

He glanced back once at Eric's unconscious form, and frowned. There were a lot of questions on his mind, and he intended to get answers for them.