Leap of Faith

They made their way along the winding streets, the Human buildings breaking up the lines of sight. It was confusing, in a way. Everything looked the same to Alba, there was little to distinguish one building or one plaza from another. The clues might be in the flickering, scrolling signs that seemed to adorn every surface, but the strange glyphs and pictures that decorated them were a mystery to her.

As they rounded a corner, the smog-choked sky was lit by a brilliant flash of light, Alba shielding her eyes reflexively as the Unggoy turned to look back in alarm. Everything around them was cast into deep shadow for a moment, and then it was gone. When she turned to look back in the direction of the carrier, it was no longer there. In its place was a spreading shockwave in the distance, the crackling energy tearing up the buildings around it, the massive space elevator that dominated the skyline swaying as it weathered the impact.

Alba considered giving the order to take cover, but the blast was a good distance away, dissipating long before it reached them. The same could not be said of any Covenant troops that had been closer to the assault carrier. There was a sudden blast of air, sending debris and foliage flying, knocking the Unggoy down as Alba braced herself against the howling gale. It rushed between the buildings, rocking the trees, one of the Kig-yar losing its footing and toppling to the street from atop a nearby pole. It abated almost as soon as it had arrived, a secondary effect of the explosion that she had witnessed, no doubt.

"Has the Solemn Penance been destroyed?" she asked in disbelief, watching as the fallen Unggoy picked themselves up off the ground. One of them cast aside a leafy frond from one of the trees that had been blown into it, looking about nervously as it tried to get its bearings.

The Kig-yar who had been blown from its perch rose to his feet and brushed himself off, snarling at a nearby Unggoy as if it had somehow been the creature's fault, sending it scurrying away.

"No, Captain," he replied in his tinny voice. "That was a slip-space rupture. The carrier, she has jumped away." Alba was inclined to take the Kig-yar's word for it. Their people were pirates, they had a lot of experience when it came to ships and their operation. "To initiate such a slip-space jump in atmosphere...there must have been great danger."

"Many of our troops were stationed below the Penance," Alba snarled, her brow furrowing beneath her ornate helmet. "How many were just killed in the blast?"

"It is not wise to question the Prophets," the Kig-yar replied, glancing about nervously as though someone might overhear her. "Not over open channels, at least..."

More of the Kig-yar descended from their vantage points, the Unggoy scurrying over and grouping up in front of her, looking to her for leadership and reassurance.

"T-they've left us behind!" one of the little crustaceans wailed. They were on the verge of panic, she had to rally them before they scurried off like frightened hatchlings.

"Calm yourselves," Alba replied tersely, "I'm sure that they have some kind of plan. For now, we continue the mission that we were assigned. What is it that the Sangheili tell you when your courage falters?" she asked, the little aliens pausing for a moment to consider.

"When in doubt, shoot," they chorused.

"Good, now move out."

The nearest Kig-yar glanced between her and the Unggoy, perhaps not approving of her methods. Most Jiralhanae would have threatened them, keeping them in line through fear. He held his tongue, brushing himself off and resuming his patrol.

Alba was lying, of course. She had no idea if the Prophets had a plan or not, if they intended to send reinforcements, or if they had merely abandoned their troops out of simple convenience. If they were willing to sacrifice the soldiers that had been staging an invasion from beneath the carrier, then why would they care about what patrols were still roaming the city?

Worrying about it right now was pointless, but it might be wise to meet up with some of the other patrols and coordinate. She allowed herself a worried glance at the space elevator, still standing, but visibly weakened by the blast. The last thing that she wanted was to be caught beneath that thing when its supports gave out, and it came down...

The Rookie - Occupied city center, six hours after drop.

The distinctive sound of a Phantom soaring by overhead greeted the Rookie as he opened his eyes groggily, his head pounding as he looked around the interior of his battered pod. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and what had happened, the memories coming flooding back to him. The slip-space rupture, the crash...where was the rest of his squad? The monitors and readouts were all either too damaged to make out, or hissing with static, and his comms were completely shot.

Through the cracked glass of his canopy, he could see the street a good distance below him. He was high off the ground, had his drop pod somehow embedded itself into the side of a building? He was almost afraid to move lest he dislodge it. He needed to get clear of the crashed pod as soon as possible, both because it would draw the Covenant to him, and because he wasn't sure that he would survive a second fall. There was a worrying creak as he tried the manual release on the door, finding that it was jammed shut.

He reached out and armed the explosive bolts that were spaced about the inside of his pod, initiating an emergency hatch release. There was a hiss of escaping air, and then the door blew away with a bang, the force of the ejection sending it careening away to land on the hood of a derelict police car on the road below. The Rookie fumbled for his SMG, finding it mercifully intact, and then peered down at the sheer drop beneath him.

As he had suspected, it seemed that the drop pod had ended up lodged into the side of one of New Mombasa's buildings, suspending him high in the air. It was a miracle that he wasn't painted all over the inside of his SOEIV, the chances are surviving a botched drop were slim to none.

The Rookie clutched his weapon in his hand, bracing himself for the jump. It was going to be rough, but there was no other way down...

He dropped from the wreck of his pod, the asphalt rushing up to meet him. He tried to roll when he impacted the ground, but it didn't do much good, a damage warning flashing on his helmet's HUD as he felt something give. The landing was hard, and he struggled to his feet, one of his legs almost buckling. Something felt...wrong, broken, or maybe sprained.

For the first time, he took a good look at his environment, turning his helmeted head as he took in his surroundings. He had landed on a city street, it was impossible to estimate precisely where, and it was completely deserted. It was unnerving in a way, to see a metropolitan area that should be bustling with traffic and pedestrians as quiet as a grave, as if its inhabitants had just up and vanished.

Night had fallen, hours must have passed since the initial drop. The sky above him was overcast with dark, ominous clouds, the crack of distant thunder echoing. The empty streets were lit only by the eerie glow of the street lamps, the neon glare of electronic billboards, and the LED lights that helped drivers to make out road markings in the dark. He reached up and tapped at the side of his helmet, turning on VISR mode. The world around him took on a slightly brighter quality, his onboard computer outlining nearby objects in yellow, helping him navigate in the gloom. If he came across any friendlies, they would be outlined in green, while any enemies that the algorithm recognized would appear in red.

He could see plenty of cars, although their drivers were nowhere to be found. The vehicles had been abandoned, their doors left ajar, some of their engines still idling as if the occupants had fled them in a panic. There were police vehicles too, their flashing lights illuminating the area around them. Some of the cars were billowing plumes of dark smoke, and it looked as though the emergency barricades that rose from the street had been erected in some places, perhaps in a futile attempt to control panicked drivers or to impede the progress of the Covenant.

He stumbled along, keeping a careful eye out for signs of the enemy. As he made his way past the burnt-out wreckage of a bus, he wondered what had happened to its occupants. It was difficult to ascertain whether there had been fighting here or not. There were wrecked and abandoned vehicles everywhere, litter and debris all over the street, but he couldn't see any bodies or any telltale signs of a gunfight. The damage might well have been caused by the slip-space rupture. Even miles from the epicenter of the explosion, the blast wave would have ripped through the city streets like a tornado.

The Rookie winced as he put weight on his injured leg, the pain making him dizzy. He shuffled over to a nearby public bench, leaning on it as he caught his breath. Right now, he had more to worry about than the Covenant. First, he needed to find a health kit, or maybe a can of biofoam so that he could patch himself up. After that, he needed to figure out where the hell in New Mombasa he was, and where he needed to be. He wouldn't get anything done if he was wandering aimlessly with a busted leg, he needed to meet up with his squad.

There had to be a first-aid station around here somewhere, they were all over the place in most cities, self-serve kiosks that dispensed medkits. He limped along for a few minutes longer, taking in the devastation around him. Even if he couldn't determine whether there had been fighting in this area of the city, the smoke that rose into the cloudy sky, and the glow of fires on the horizon told him that not all areas of New Mombasa had been so lucky. There were pieces of jagged metal resting atop some of the buildings and blocking areas of the street. Could they be fragments from the orbital elevator?

"Need immediate medical assistance? Choose Optican!"

The Rookie almost jumped out of his skin as the robotic voice blared, and he turned his head to see one of the kiosks that he had been searching for. He hobbled over to it, the company's logo flashing on the built-in monitors. There were two health kits in sockets on the front of the machine, and he snatched one, sitting down beside the kiosk as he opened the container and disgorged its contents onto the ground. He had expected to see a green canister of biofoam that resembled a grenade, a stitch kit, adhesive dressings, and a few doses of painkillers. Instead, there was only a transparent packet of what looked like green gel. He turned it over in his hands, reading off the label and the included instructions. It was MediGel, some kind of proprietary alternative to biofoam that was produced by the company that operated the kiosks. The instructions said that it had to be applied locally.

The Rookie removed his boot gingerly and detached his shinguard, rolling up the leg of his BDU to inspect the damage. His ankle was already red and swollen, even the gentle breeze that was blowing the dust and litter felt like a thousand tiny knives against the tender flesh. He tore open the packet and began to rub the gluey gel on the swelling, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through him.

The MediGel was already doing its work, however. It must include a local anesthetic because the skin was quickly going numb, and it was pleasantly cool. He applied more of it, leaning back against the wall and breathing a sigh of relief. There was no way for him to know if his ankle was broken, but he could still move his toes, and the gel was taking the edge off the pain.

After waiting a few minutes for the painkiller to do its job, he put his gear back on and rose to his feet, noting that he could walk well enough. It didn't hurt too much anymore, the sharp pain had been replaced with a dull ache, and the swelling had already gone down considerably. He stashed the rest of the gel packet in his pocket and made his way out into the street. Time for step two...

There must be a terminal around here somewhere that would let him connect to the Superintendent, the dumb-AI that managed the city's infrastructure, and download a map of the area. With that, he could start figuring out where he was and how to find his way back to friendly lines.

A flash of lightning illuminated the roiling clouds above him, followed by the far-off echo of thunder. As he looked up at the sky, droplets of rain began to fall, rolling down his visor. Great, just what he needed.

The Rookie set off along the street, dodging past traffic cones and bollards, his boots splashing in the growing puddles. The rain gave everything a shiny, slick quality, the bright neon of the city's lights reflecting off the wet asphalt. He hugged the overhang of a nearby building, staying undercover, seeing the world through shades of yellow as his VISR picked out the details of derelict vehicles and palm trees that had lost most of their fronds in the blast. He leaned into the windows of nearby cars and chanced a look through the open doors of the buildings that he passed, searching for bodies or survivors, and finding neither. It was looking more and more like there had been a moderately successful evacuation, which was his hope.

A sudden splash of red gave him pause as he rounded a corner, and he took cover behind one of the ever-present planters, peering through the foliage of a shrub as the droplets of rain made its leaves bounce. His VISR was picking something up, and as he focused on the red outline, he recognized it.

Perhaps a hundred feet down the road was a Covenant patrol, the aliens emerging from behind an abandoned semi-trailer. There were three squat Grunts waddling along at the front of the group, he could make out the triangular shape of the methane tanks that they carried on their backs, and they were tailed by a hulking Brute.

The creature was nine feet tall, resembling a cross between a rhinoceros and a gorilla, the blue power armor that it wore glinting beneath the streetlamps. Between the ornate armored plates, and the rubbery underclothes that it was wearing beneath them, he could make out its skin. Its hide was tough and leathery like that of an elephant, grey in color, the creature shaved almost clean save for a scruffy beard that reminded him of a goatee that protruded beneath its helmet. Its tusk-like teeth jutted from between its thick lips, its face contorted into a perpetual snarl. It was broad-shouldered, with long, powerful arms that held a wicked looking weapon that was adorned with bayonet-like blades. The Rookie recognized it as a Spiker, a carbine that fired super-heated, metal nails.

As he watched, the Brute gave one of the slower Grunts a kick in the back with its two-toed foot, sending its subordinate tumbling into a puddle. It huffed beneath its helmet, appearing to laugh at the creature's plight, gesturing and waving its bladed weapon as if giving it orders. The Grunt picked itself up and hurried along to join its fellows, dropping to a three-legged gait, using one of its arms to run as a chimp might as it clutched a plasma pistol in the other.

The Rookie ducked back into cover, checking the magazine on his SMG and thumbing the safety. He ensured that it was properly synced with his helmet's HUD, his loaded and reserve ammunition displayed down in the right corner. Facing off against Elites or Jackals was one thing, but Brutes were downright sadistic. If he engaged that thing and lost, it wouldn't give him a quick death, and it would probably make a meal of him once it was finished.

They were heading his way, he didn't stand much of a chance if he confronted them head-on, he was no Spartan. He had to be smart about this...

The SMG was equipped with a suppressor, as was his sidearm, and the rain should help to cover the sound of his footsteps. He didn't know how good Brute hearing was, but he'd have to find out the hard way. There was a fragmentation grenade on his belt too, but he'd have to be very careful how he used it, as there was no telling when he would be able to resupply.

He hopped up into the planter, the leaves rustling as he obscured himself inside the bush, where he lay in wait with his weapon at the ready. All that he could hear was his own labored breathing from inside his helmet, and he tried to calm himself, trusting his VISR to keep track of the aliens through the foliage.

The trio of four-foot tall Grunts hobbled past him in single-file as he watched, making their way back up the road in the direction that he had come. Their faces were obscured behind rebreathers, snaking tubes connecting the masks to the unwieldy tanks that they carried on their backs. Their exposed bodies were a blue-grey in color, their carapaces the same texture as a lobster's shell. Behind them lumbered the Brute, even more massive up close, its muscles rippling beneath its form-fitting suit. It was heavy enough that he could feel the vibrations of its footsteps through the concrete planter, its already superhuman strength further enhanced by the powered armor that it wore. It was equipped with a shield generator that could absorb a lot of damage, even before the assailant reached the inch-thick plating beneath it.

There was no reason to engage them if he could just let them pass him by, he wasn't about to save New Mombasa by taking out a single Covenant patrol. The Rookie controlled his breathing, keeping as still as a statue as they made their way around one of the abandoned police cruisers.

One of the Grunts stopped abruptly, raising its head and seeming to sniff the air like a dog. Its comrades did the same, pausing to sniff at the ground, their beady eyes scanning the gloom. The Brute growled at them, its voice low and gravelly, the smaller aliens responding with high-pitched voices that were filtered through their rebreathers. Could the little creatures smell him through their masks?

The three Grunts spread out, their noses to the ground like bloodhounds, the Brute watching them as he gripped his bladed weapon in his hands. The Rookie clutched the forward grip on his SMG, his mind racing. Should he stay still and try to hide, knowing that the Grunts might sniff him out, or should he use the element of surprise while he still had it?

His hand roamed down to his belt, his fingers brushing the metal of his grenade through his fingerless gloves. He slowly detached it, trying not to make a sound, even the rustling of leaves could give him away. He gently pulled the pin and then tossed it out of the bush. The grenade bounced on the wet asphalt, then rolled, arriving at the feet of the lead Brute. By the time the alien was looking down to see what had just rolled into it, the Rookie was diving for cover behind the concrete planter, the sound alerting the Grunts.

"Heretic!" he heard one of them shout in its shrill voice. It was speaking English for his benefit, apparently. The Brute realized what had just happened, bellowing a guttural roar, which was drowned out by the deafening crack of the grenade exploding. Shrapnel tore through the air, digging deep into the concrete, shattering the windows of nearby cars and buildings. One of the Grunts was caught in the blast, the debris rupturing its tank. The methane ignited, sending the pressurized container flying off the creature's back, spiraling into the air on a plume of green gas before exploding like a firework. The two remaining Grunts were sent into a blind panic, screeching as they fled in random directions, green bolts of plasma reflecting in the puddles and lighting up the gloom as they fired their pistols randomly.