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At the end of the road there were Five very tired Covenant, tired because they'd just run four miles dodging artillery shells. Weapon raised as he entered the structure, Mikka Masanee' watched his area of responsibility- the direction he was assigned to cover in their little formation -with a vigilance brought only be extreme self-conditioning. His muscles felt warm, tingly with light perspiration, which made his body suit feel clammy. Naturally he ignored his discomfort, keeping his posture tense.
Outside, the frigid night air was warming up. Sunrise approached.

Truthfully he was just glad to be in shelter. Ahead he could hear Urien, Snuggle and Kodos discussing whatever it was a Hari-Key, Quizal and Hunter discussed. He chose not to let his worries flow out, they did not need to trouble anyone else. Dwelling on the lives lost above could only hinder his ability to think clearly. After walking for what seemed like an eternity, the low hum of the maglev lift shocked him. His gut lulled as the lift descended. Another three minutes passed and it had not stopped, so Mikka stared off into space. There were periodic flashes of light from fixtures on the shaft wall, but they did not last long, and he would rather have not experienced them at all.
The little star-spots as a cruiser core exploded. He replayed this image over and over every time he saw a light. Eventually, he could stand it no longer, and was about to ask how long they'd been standing doing nothing when Snuggle thumped him on the knee.

"Pay attention!" His leg throbbed after that, she was quite strong for her size. He did nothing in retaliation, he had deserved it. He should have been awake and alert. He would not make the same mistake again.
Gripping his rifle and setting his jaw firm, he asked the question which had been eating at him for minutes now. "How long have we been going down?"

Tras'Lok angled a furtive glance his way. "Twenty minutes, warrior."
"Twenty minutes my Lord?"
"Twenty minutes." He repeated in identical tone and timing.

That sum could not possibly elapsed! Time could not go so fast, yet seem so unbearably slow! It was sacrilege! Smiling inwardly, his current troubles at least temporarily forgotten, he realized just how completely prophetic his thoughts had just sounded.

"We left the Lady approximately fifty minutes ago, then." Snuggle chirped in her methane-cheered voice. "I hope she is well." Mikka didn't know what to think. Shade was their leader, a skilled general and fleet commander. He respected her, but did not personally know her. Therefore he did not pass any conviction. Urien the Quizal Messenger turned Scout on the other hand, was less obligated to morals.

"How do you gratify such a creature, Snuggle?" She growled, waving her arms wide in a shrug. "She is the blight that corrupts our people!" Faster than Mikka could see, the hand of Tras'Lok had made its mark, whipping out from nowhere in particular and piercing deep into an open joint.

"That blight saved your life, Urien." Tras'Lok spoke evenly, barely concealed emotion edging his voice. "You would do well to remember that." Not much in the way of conversation happened after this exchange, everyone seemed, to Mikka, wishing to avoid the ire of their superior. He could not blame them.

In order to pass the time, he recounted the events that had led them to the point they were currently at, picking them apart in his mind. First they had dropped from the Uzumri, Shade's flagship, into orbit. The use of the initial confusion of opening combat had worked to their advantage, as the Lady had said it would. They were able to land and disembark without incident. Following that, a long and boring march to the camp, where the Lady had begun to show signs of sickness and worsening condition. After a brief treatment with Snuggle, they were on their way again- only with one less. An alien patrol had intercepted them, killing one of their number before he even reached camp. The Lady had remained behind to delay their advance. Unfortunately, that had not been the end of affairs. Mortar shells tore up the landscape when the aliens had realized there were still more threats to them lurking about the swamp. Two more of their companions had died in the inferno.

That left them to finding the structure they were presently inside, searching for the index. It seemed odd that the Lady had originally trusted only herself to retrieve the device and ended up being captured, even killed in an effort to locate it. This probably only solidified Tras'Lok's resolve to lead them in the search. Her choice must have been logical after all, he realized. If not able to take it yourself, use the one you trust the most.
He heard the distinct release of pressurized gasses, and his gut was no longer so uncomfortable with its insides. "We've stopped." He heard himself mutter. Feeling their way around on practiced drill, they arranged themselves into a rough circle. Snuggle, with her back to him, rasped out a sentence that would amuse him for a few minutes, at least.

"It sure is dark down here. Knowing my luck, nothing is going to work."
"Do not become so pessimistic." Mikka replied. Hopefully that would reassure her at least slightly. He knew the drawbacks of being on edge, and didn't want anyone else to suffer through them. He vividly recalled his training, how undisciplined and anxious he had been.

Dark indeed. He flicked on his helmet lights. After once second, nothing happened.
Two seconds.
Still nothing.

The gravelly, bass voice of the normally quiet, dignified Kodos cut through any composure he could wear. It made him jump slightly, but the Hunter set a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he spoke. "My illumination instruments are not functioning correctly."

No one needed any more direct lessons to know what was going on.

"Join hands. We shall grope our way through this place as children in a chain." Tras'Lok stomped a foot in determination. "Away, that which deters us! No simple malfunction would ever dampen the Doomharrow!"
If anything ever shook the Arms-Master, he knew it not.

And so they fumbled around in what was a black hole for hours on end; Tras'Lok leading, the rest following. Occasionally Snuggle would make a cheery or humorous comment that would assist everyone's spirit, and Mikka found himself happier in her company every moment.
When the light of - something -finally did come, it was as sudden as it was blinding. Their tiny little party tripped over one another as it navigated to the door. Mikka was most displeased to find himself entangled with the massive Kodos, who took their fall with a respectful silence. Evidently, he disliked the close proximity as Mikka did, because he was on his feet and moving away almost instantly.

Mikka, after a few breaths, saw his vision sharpen and clarify. What greeted him were the dropped jaws of everyone he could see. "What is the matter-

"Shh!" Urien snapped. He couldn't help himself. He really, really couldn't. And even if he could have, would he have?

"Ah." He blinked. "That. I see. How do you propose we bypass this... minor problem?" Yes, the room did have light, and yes it was spacious enough to fit their combined bulk a hundred times over. There was no complaining about a dull view; there were holographic star systems- perhaps slipspace charts -all within an impressive domed roof. Colorations had been done dynamically, allowing both walls and floor an interesting glassy shimmer that reflected countless blinking lights. A control interface, arranged in a crescent, had been placed against the wall. All was quiet. Quiet for now, at least.
All along any wall not occupied by computers, holographic technology, or whatever else one could think up, were clear glass tubes. Inside each glass tube small parasite infection forms slept, subconsciously daring unwary passerby to make some wrong move. They did not number in small groups, but one hundred every three rows. Up, and up, and up the tubes went, until they disappeared into the solid blackness above. Occasionally he could hear them breathing, as if they had teeth in their pussy little throats.

Wheeze.

Whistle.

Wheeze.

Whistle.


Surprisingly, it was Snuggle who answered. "Umm..." She considered her new predicament, and came to a conclusion so fast she shouted with glee. "Do nothing stupid, and there'll be no problems!"

"Silence!" Tras'Lok roared.

"Quiet, both of you!" Urien was quick to retort in spite of herself.

He saw Kodos cross his arms, puffing up, obviously trying to look as menacing as possible. The Hunter managed his own verbal communication in a grave, reasonably hushed tone. "Do not speak loudly."
Mikka whipped his head from one companion to another. He couldn't figure out which one was going to break the stalemate, or whether they would let it drop like sensible, civilized people so they could get on with the mission. As he expected, Tras'Lok immediately backed down, scanning his surroundings. Urien shook her head, grumbling to herself. The loose screw, he feared, would be their resident Healer.

Naturally, he was right.

Shaking, Snuggle opened her mouth to submit in a blind fury to pride. Luckily for her, he already had his hand around her methane breather. It would do no good to have them losing the Hari-Key in such disputes as this. The most obvious reason was that they would lack a suitably trained individual to patch up possible wounds not if, but when, they happened.
Cautiously, he removed his hand, and exhaled a sigh, relieved.

"eep." Snuggle chirped. This tiny, seemingly insignificant high-pitched sound wave was all the thin glass needed to crack, which in itself really wasn't too much trouble. Flood were, however. And when they smelled food and oxygen, they resisted not the pull that followed. One by one they awoke, century old muscles alive and ticking flawlessly. Their fleshy, muscular mushroomed heads snapped against their tiny prisons with the force of a battering ram. Already, some where falling downward.
They were breaking free.

"You've gotta' be kidding me!" The Hari-Key's eyes bulged.
He looked toward Kodos, who was staring accusingly at the Healer. "Run. For your lives and more, Run!" With this command released, he did so. Behind, he could hear several different strides keeping pace. Sometimes, when you run fast enough, hard enough, your heart, your soul, flutter free of their mortal cages and the wind just stops resisting. Now, spurred on by fear, was one of those times.

Every factor should have chained him down. Impossibly, he made fifty whole meters before he realized they were all alive and kicking. He turned around to see if this was so; the motion slowed him down, allowing three infection forms to leap into the air. He did not have enough time to execute any dodge. Today would be his death day.

He then thought it strange that although he had no time to move, the iron-fist of Kodos banished the deadly little creatures in a disgusting splash of green rather spectacularly. He must have done this before. In the same motion, his arm wrapped Mikka in a tight grip about the waist. He did not stop running, or even diminish speed because of the extra weight. He could not be seen as useless. Desperately he concocted an action, and shaking with a locked, tensed body, he drew his Needler up with one hand and depressed the trigger. Razor-sharp pink crystals sliced passed one of his friends and gored into the pursuing horde, exploding in gruesome finales. This bought time enough for Snuggle to clamber onto Kodos's back, and howl uncontrollable sobs as the Hunter, most certainly agile for his size, tried to carry two dumbstruck warriors to safety.
Suddenly, he was free. Kodos had released him. Unprepared, he dropped to the floor, but found himself able to push up on his hands and smack an airborne flood back at its creator, hopefully some unmentionable hell. He watched Kodos and Snuggle dart through the now open, hopefully thick door, and followed. Behind, he could hear Urien's soft, padded feet, and Tras'Lok in his heavy armor. Both had turned to face the newest threat. Shield activated, pistol blazing. The Quizal had enough sense to keep her distance from the Arms-Master, who held two swords in either hand, swinging them in precise arcs that he saw as little more than blurs. With each successive attack he would turn his body, move his legs and hooves in some way to compliment both his current defense, and future attack.
Mikka glanced at his belt, and noticed something he hadn't noticed before. He pressed his back against the wall and turned to the others.

"How much would it take to collapse that support beam?" His voice was oddly calm, which was to his satisfaction. He smiled inside. Perhaps he wasn't such a coward after all.
Snuggle was gasping, but she managed a reply. "I've got no idea. Do whatever you do fast." She wasn't exactly serene, but she had enough control to act sanely.

He glanced at Kodos, who nodded. They were agreed, this was the only survivable option. By now, Tras'Lok and Urien had backed through the doorway and were desperately fighting off whatever came their way. Instinctively he shuffled back, and primed the grenade. "Explosives out!" It was best to warn everyone before you threw a grenade, otherwise he supposed he would unintentionally blow someone's ear drums out, since they didn't have time to cover up.

Tras'Lok deactivated his swords and rolled away, while Urien crouched at the corner, protecting them from any stray shrapnel or plasma gobs with her shield. Everyone was covered.

He nearly laughed out a battle cry. He felt important. Needed. Really, it felt good. He leaned across the corner, and executed an underhand toss that carried the grenade into the air. It sailed leisurely upward and hung at its pinnacle for a moment, then cane crashing down, and exploded.

Hairline fractures were first to appear, then full out twisting breaks in the mineral used to construct the thing. Then it simply broke in half and dropped to the ground, crushing several flood. Supporting beams breaking only brought bad things. Beneath his feet, the floor was shaking. Pebbles fell from the roof as he watched his maneuver succeed. First came walls, then any flood crushed under what came after shattered like glass, dying with pitiful squeals and popping when their gas sacs emptied.
Nothing with any man-sized mass could've survived that.
Sighing, Mikka slid downward and sat. Rubble was dropping through the doorway and coming to a rest. Snuggle coughed, then sneezed.

None of them really wanted to admit how close that had been.
Far off, an alarm was beeping. What was...

He shook his head. He must have been hearing things, combat was brutal enough, but was he going insane? Surely not. The beeping increased in intensity. Nope, definitely not hearing things.

"Beep. Beep, beep?" Snuggle asked herself. "Why are there alarms beeping?"

"Because." Urien rolled her eyes. "We released those flood, didn't we?" Mikka frowned. That damn Quizal had her head up in the clouds, she treated Snuggle as if she was dirt. He hated that. If it continued, he reminded himself to stop it. The alarm kept beeping.
"Perhaps we broke something."


They were just relieving tension, Mikka reminded himself. Despite what was generally perceived, combat was neither easy or enjoyable. It taxed on even the Arms-Master, whose muscles were shaking with adrenaline. He could hear his breath, controlled and even, as if he was in meditation. He was trying to keep himself under control, resisting the temptation to brag. Mikka had felt that very same pull many times, and succumbed. He admired his control.

"Well I hope not. Just the same I'm glad we're all safe." Snuggle lowered her head.
Flesh pounded against metal then, and judging by the numerous sounds that followed, it was crashing passed anything that stood in its way.

Instinctively, he fed another pink crystal into his needler and crouched near the door. He heard the distinctive hum of plasma blades activating.

"Ready." Tras'Lok nodded, seemingly to indicate that Mikka was the leader in this particular instance. He didn't know how it happened, but he realized the significance and immediately relaxed.

"Away from the wall." He told his friends this out of simple logic. Not quite an order and not a suggestion either. If it was going to smash through everything, it wouldn't do to be right against whatever it was breaking apart. The thing came sooner than he expected, and not quite as head on as he'd believed. A curious finger poked the air as it slid into the door, pushing the rubble away as easily as a vapor sac. Perhaps because the finger was ten times the size of that rubble, or perhaps just because the rubble was incredibly light compared to the actual strength of the appendage.

Either way, he could tell it was trouble. The finger nail brushed against his arm. So he stabbed it.

Then he broke the needle tips off.

The needles inside the nerveless limb began glowing. The thing could probably feel that mild sensation. Probably.

But what was REALLY going to hurt was when they exploded.


When the finally did what they were supposed to, the limb retracted. All was quiet for upside of two minutes, during which time no one dared breathe. Mikka considered his options. Had it been the mere warning of the armored shell that scared the predator off?
His question was dispelled when a deafening challenge rocked the very foundations of the ground on which he stood.


RRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOAAARRRRRRRRGGGHHH!


Kodos did something very unlike Kodos. "Uh-oh."

The beast's massive arm beat the wall like a hammer on a gong, all it took was one hit for the oversized fist to puncture the metals and end up in the hallway where they crouched, children cowering from an angry father. Its fingers grasped the Hunter, not too lightly, but none too softly either. It hoisted him up, and let him hang airborne, supported by flesh and tendons and bone.
For Mikka, time stood still

Its thickly built skull was apish in appearance, sitting on a neck that was part of its shoulders, if it even had one. There was at one time fur covering the body, however, that had given way to a sickly, rock hard green mineral. The eyes were sunken into its head, and they glowed an odd black, radiating a light that seemed to run light years from nowhere in particular to get where it was. Its muzzle, distinctively canine, ended in a tapered point that curved down into a horn used for ripping things with hard shells apart. Things like Kodos. An open mouth, colored unhealthily green in the gums, expelled hot putrid gasps, moisture and ammonia clinging to everything in their wake. Yellow teeth chiseled out of meat hooks dominated a forked reptilian tongue, which flicked ungracefully about. Its finger nails looked normal enough. But that was only if you discounted the fact that they had eyes of their own, which glanced in no particular direction. The fingers that these appendages were attached to looked as if they were made for grasping things or climbing.

The beast sniffed the air- a gross, superhuman sucking wail -and sneezed (spat, depending on whether you were man sized or not). Ammonia flowered the air, and it threw Kodos down into the opposite wall with enough force to crack a large building in half. As Mikka watched, he saw Kodos actually make an indentation where he hit. Not faint, but large enough that Snuggle and Urien needed to pull him out so he could move again, even if it was just to breathe and scream for mercy.

Its hands swiped again, and Mikka dove back.

Whoosh!

There was a time when he would stop and say 'Gods, that just missed me', all he could manage however was to balk in anger when they ripped his needler apart. He would need to be more careful if he expected to survive, but how could they dispel such a creature?
It was fast!

Whoosh!

Another claw swipe had just grazed him by a hair. These were playful swipes, just meant to annoy. To poke or prod in sensitive places and make him meow. He gazed upward, and saw the attack at just the right moment. Both hands were being propelled down by meaty arms, which rippled with prehistoric muscles. Tendons pulsed, and Mikka carried himself into a summersault.

WhooshWHOOSH!

Veins bulged. Those troublesome hands smashed into the floor, and when they started upward again, he noted the hand-shaped craters in the floor. It was most assuredly strong. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Tras'Lok was making his move. Perhaps the only flaw he could see in this creature's attack pattern was that it had lowered its head to the floor. Angry father hitting his children indeed.

Mighty Tras'Lok leapt, swimming through stale air with all efforts of a fish in water. His armor-cased hulk was more than enough to give even this thing pause, however, this was not all Mikka believed the Arms-Master had in mind. One sword, carried by his momentum, drove itself into the thing's forehead, sank to the guard, and remained firmly in place. He marveled out how the thing seemed to remain there, despite his comrade's weight. Serene, content with what was happening, he propelled his other arm in its course, carving deep slices of its face. Over and over again.
It cried out several times as its eyes were destroyed, but Mikka paid those no attention, rising with battle's flow, he too leapt upward, and tried to grab a hold of its oversized shoulder, but his hands slipped. He slid downward, destined to fall. Physics applied themselves, he howled in frustration, and clawed and clawed.

With a horrendous tear he slowed, his hands whipped out. He caught... something.

He couldn't tell where he was going, but he could tell that it was trying to rip Tras'Lok off its face. That intention wasn't much good, every time it tried, it would shred its own skin. He heard a throaty laugh.

This creature may have been 'Father beating his children,' but these children had sharp, pointy things. And they HURT like HELL.

His brief dizzy spell eventually ceased, so he used his opportunity to begin clambering up the creature's arm, minding when its muscles trembled. The sickening audio of plasma blades striking flesh and bone had echoed off into history's library. He dug his claws in. Climbed. From his new vantage point, he could see nearly everything that had occurred. Maintaining his balance wasn't so difficult anymore, the creature had stopped moving and was... sobbing?
Acidic tears burned vehicle sized holes in the floor, and brought an unpleasant smell with them. Snuggle, Urien and Kodos had backed off a suitable distance, and were charging their weapons, the Hunter leaning heavily on his shield. Tras'Lok seemed dazed, slumped against a wall, single remaining sword in hand. Its hand was lamely advancing toward him. Mikka let in a sharp breath, did not exhale. What could he do?

If he did nothing, they would be crushed one after another with little hope. After two successive volleys, simple plasma bolts had only superficial effects. The real killers were Tras'Lok's infinitely useful pair of plasma swords. But those were useless without a wielder. In moments, he would be doomed if he could not move. "My Lord, arise! Arise! You will be killed, surely!" Thus was his desperate plea, doomed for deaf ears, muted groans. Bleary, uncomprehending eyes.
Something called out to him, demanded his attention. So he turned, and fell as his mount shambled beneath him. The azure star of the sword was still, waiting. Still buried in the foe it had so faithfully assailed. There!
His mind commanded of him what must be done. "I cannot wield you, you are not mine." His mental voice replied. But it was confident, undaunted. Take me. Use me! I am as much yours as that of any warrior.

In this moment, he had grown his own fate.
His sliding form stopped, force to counter-force, and slid off the top of the creature's head. In his right hand, a blazing plasma sword. "On my honor, step no more." He clenched his jaws, whispering solemn vow, ripping the weapon free and pulling himself up with his free hand, adrenaline flowing, back arched in preparation as the creature finally closed with Tras'Lok.

"Thus far, no further!" Down the blade went, propelled by muscles in a rage induced stupor, driving deep, blade tip connecting with brain. He began to do what should not be done such noble weapons- he sawed.
If it noticed, it gave no indication until its intended prey pushed off the wall, growling in challenge. Suddenly, everything became crystal clear.
Mikka could feel his blood coursing through his self, his heartbeat pounding at his ears.

Thump, Thump. Thump, Thump.

The Arms-Master had been feigning unconsciousness so as to catch the beast unawares, allowing him to attack at the opportune moment. Allowing Mikka to gain an advantage as well. Below, a warrior did battle with his enemy, blade twisting an weaving, fending off assaults that had felled thousands millennia ago. His body fatigued, his spirit burning strong. Toes and fingers separated from their host bodies, causing their owner to stumble.
Above, another warrior hacked a hole into a surprisingly resistant skull, faithful, hoping.

The creature began to show its first signs of fatigue. "It is succeeding," Tras'Lok was calm, if slightly giddy. "Assail this abomination with everything you are capable!"

Unanimous, the ranged specialists released their bolts, aimed for what was already broken, and enjoyed results that would have put any marksman in envy. The combined forces of three separate gobs of superheated plasma were enough to burn a hole all the way to the other side. With a sigh, the thing relaxed, and Mikka, having lost his footing, felt firsthand the indignities of a fall some distance above very hard flooring. He would not live to see day's end. Again the sword proved useful, for it caught its hold on the creature's throat, and slowed his fall. What might have been amusing, had you not witnessed the climax first-hand, was that as the sword fell, it tore a massive laceration down its front, gutting it near from head to crotch. He landed with a painful crack, and screamed. Am I doomed to failure in this manner forever?

The little crawling sensations he felt up and down his arm annoyed him, he could not feel his wrist or his hand. But his bones were impossibly aware. All too knowledgeable in their self-proclaimed orgasm of hurt. Sparing itself the indignity of falling face first, it stumbled back despite the forces which had acted against it, and fall on its back, heaving another death sigh. Overlapping that, Mikka felt tears in his eyes, and found it difficult to breathe. "My arm. Gods aid my soul, my arm is not-
An aching torrent ground his resolve away.

Fortunately, Snuggle was present. "Hush, you big baby." She set herself to work.
"I do not relish being called- ouch -a-
"Get ready."
It occurred to him that she was merely trying to keep his mind off his injury, more likely injuries, by engaging in pointless prattle. That was fine by him. Honor and duty be damned, he wanted this torture's end. Expertly, she snapped something back into place, and bound his arm.

"Don't be moving that, Mikka Masanee'."

Urien strolled purposefully on then, and 'accidentally' slapped the little healer on the back of the head. "Don't be moving that, Mikka Masanee'." She imitated the Hari-key's high-pitch. That was enough. He had grown tired of such provoking behavior. In short, he was tired, and about to rip the Quizal's head off.

"Quizal." He did not speak loudly, merely evenly. Like Kodos. "You will change your tone. Racism is not becoming of one in your position. If you do not stop such blatantly hostile behavior, I will gouge your eyes out with an eating utensil."

She did not respond, but scoffed and walked toward Tras'Lok, who watched impassively, yet hid a disapproving frown for any sort of conflict. Mikka sensed that he would not deign to waste words on an occasion as tense as this. His caretaker was smiling behind her mask, eyes full with gratitude. He patted her head with his good hand. He could not understand why she was so thankful, would not have anyone stood and defended the oppressed?
Their affectionate moment did not last all too long. Kodos lumbered toward them, and offered his hands, breathing heavily. They both accepted, and soon three were standing aside two, and all the closer for it.

"We must continue." Mikka voiced his thoughts with some hesitation. "There is no telling what follows in wake of the hole that creature has created." In agreement, they each picked up what was left of their bodies, and gimped away on each other's shoulders.

With Tras'Lok and Urien some distance ahead already, apparently having no trouble with the exertions that nipped their heels. Unknown to any, the creature's flesh began to knit back together, biding its time. Waiting. Waiting for sake of an adapted stratagem. Waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

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