“Grab the doc, now!” ordered Garcia as he spun his M95A towards the combat form nearest him trying to stand. The blast from the shotgun sent chunks of diseased flesh flying wildly. Another combat form tried rushing forward, but was cut down by Yamato’s own M95A. Bauer had grabbed West and was already pulling him up the ladder into the main hold.
Everyone else was doomed, Garcia knew it. Still restrained in handcuffs, the eight members of the Beaker’s science team and the three members of the Agricola’s crew were now lost within a seething torrent of the Flood. Whatever wasn’t consumed would soon swell the parasite's ranks. This containment breach needed to be stopped at once.
Yamato and Garcia, seizing the Flood’s momentary occupation, quickly climbed the ladder and closed the hatch leading into the hold.
Hailing their team AI, Garcia said, “Jane, looks like Integra gets to have some fun today after all. Calling in a CODE: ANTIBODY.”
“Affirmative, captain,” Jane replied. “Spartan E-063 enroute.”
It didn’t take long before the echoing footsteps of the Spartan Epsilon super-commando could be heard, and felt, reverberating through the cargo hold. Donned in white MJOLNIR powered armor and bearing a large M7080 flamethrower, Integra approached Garcia and lowered her blue-visored helmet towards the captain.
“You call for a barbecue, sir?” the Spartan asked as she adjusted the gauges of her weapon.
“Extra crispy if you don’t mind, Spartan,” Garcia winked before gripping the hatch’s handle. “It’s going to be bad in there, are you ready?”
Integra nodded and leapt into the hidden hold as soon as the hatch was pulled up. Sealing it behind the Spartan, Garcia was confident that Integra would purge the infection below. While he knew the Spartans of today were not the Spartans of his grandparent’s day, he firmly believed the stories of what they were capable of.
Jane uplinked the video feed from Integra’s helmet cam for the rest of the task force. They watched as the Spartan bathed the infected in waves of fire, easily dispatching the combat forms that formed the vanguard of the Flood’s counter-attack. A bulbous carrier form was the next target set aflame. The carrier fell back and burst, but the surrounding flames easily popped the several dozen infector pods it carried inside. By now a wall of fire coated the hold and triggered the fire suppression system.
Scores of coal-black charred corpses and scorched cryopods were all that was left of the Beaker’s short-lived outbreak. Integra was about to leave when, from behind a nearby cryopod, a large spider-like creature leapt at the Spartan. Unfortunately for the parasite, Integra’s superhuman reflexes allowed her to drop her weapon and catch the specimen's bizarre prolapsed proboscis. As it squirmed to get free, Integra gripped its backend with her other hand and tore the beast in half.
“Clear,” Integra reported as the specimen dropped with a sickening, squishy thud.
Breathing a sign of relief, Garcia once more turned to Dr. West. The man was white as a ghost, no doubt more saddened by the end of his research than the death of his companions. There was more info that could be gleaned from him, but this little incident suggested he probably wouldn’t talk. Nor did Garcia want to talk to him any further.
“Jane, have you recovered the Beaker’s NAV data?” asked Garcia.
“I have,” Jane responded. “Looks like the good doctor purged some of the coordinates though.”
“Think you can get the rest from his neural interface?”
Stolen story; please report.
“I can. Are we “indefinitely quarantining” the doc?”
“Yes I am. Log Dr. Clapham West as violating the THANATOS Protocol if you would, Jane. Sergeant, shoot that guy.”
Yamato saluted and turned to face the doctor. She wracked her M95A and pointed its barrel squarely at West’s heart, briefly causing him to stumble back out of surprise. West seemed ready to utter a plea of some kind before the 8-gauge ammunition tore a hole in his chest.
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0800 HOURS, OCTOBER 17, 2600 [MILITARY CALENDAR]
ABOARD PROWLER UNSC POE, INTERSTELLAR SPACE
The Agricola, after a five day mandatory quarantine, was finally granted permission to detach from the UNSC Beaker and depart. Captain Garcia had met with the Agricola’s crew after containing the Flood outbreak aboard the Beaker, but neglected to give them the full story. He had informed the Agricola’s XO that a contamination hazard had occurred aboard the other ship and the occupants inside would need to be transported for medical evaluation.
Thankfully, the XO had asked a few questions, only stressing to let him know that whatever was going on with the Beaker was nothing they knew about. Garcia was happy to oblige him and feed him a cover story for the failed pickup that should satisfy their bosses as well as explain the missing three members of the Agricola’s crew.
It was here the XO let slip that they may have been outsourced for an outfit called Novus Genetrics Corporation based on the Inner Colony world of Minister. Garcia would follow up on this lead later, but it didn’t surprise him that an Inner Colony megacorp might find interest in the Flood. The larger concern was how they came to learn about it in the first place.
As the Agricola continued moving away, Garcia took a gulp of whiskey and brought up the Poe’s targeting system and locked onto the ship.
“Is the Shiva prepped?” Garcia asked aloud, knowing full well that Jane was listening.
“Yes, sir,” came Jane’s response as her avatar blinked into view on a nearby holotable.
Garcia ordered the nuclear missile to launch and shortly thereafter the empty section of space they resided in housed a temporary star. This was the worst part of the job to him, but it was necessary. The Flood was a hardy creature, highly adaptable and elusive. If even the smallest sample managed to board the Agricola and find its way to a population center, the results would be apocalyptic. THANATOS was clear: leave no trace.
As the atomic fireball began to die, Garcia turned to face Jane Doe and asked, “Any luck decrypting West’s interface?”
Jane nodded and projected a map of the Milky Way galaxy. Red bordered box after box narrowed portions of the galaxy down until, just as West said, a gas giant orbiting a black hole, came into view.
“It's just a 3D model based on the telemetry available, but it looks like the doctor was telling the truth about where he picked up the Flood samples.”
“I assume West and his crew must’ve stumbled upon a Forerunner research facility of some kind, correct?”
“Looks that way, sir. Records from the Covenant separatists back in ‘52 indicate a similar facility was found near the gas giant next to the Halo installation codenamed “Alpha Halo” or “Installation 04. No doubt not all of West’s scientists came with him, so I feel it’s likely they are keeping the facility running with active research.”
“And that is a major problem,” Garcia grumbled. The captain nursed another drink and climbed out of his command chair. Debris from the Agricola was starting to scatter everywhere, but each piece would be meticulously scanned over and over for any trace of biological material. “
“Send word to command about what happened here and give them the coordinates. We can resupply and scout the area, but we’re going to need backup. This isn’t over yet, Jane. Not yet.”
Deep down, Garcia wondered if it ever would be.