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| - David Kahn kept his pistol trained on the hallway in front of him, keenly aware that the young woman behind him was also armed and not exactly friendly. "How do you know Nimue?" she asked for the fifth time. "When did you train her?" "Not too long ago," he said vaguely. It was best to use her curiosity against her; as long as she wanted to know more about Nimue, she'd want to keep him alive. "If we all make it out of this, I'll tell you more." The doctor didn't answer. She was a professional after all, or at least an ex-professional. For all her youth, there was more to this altruist--and David rarely met anyone worthy of the term--than met the eye. He knew trained soldiers when he met them, and this one had definitely been trained by someone. The only question was by whom. They passed room after empty room, stripped bare by looters and rebels as the UNSC's net had tightened across the city. Yuri Rosch might have been the least subtle agent in the history of the Office of Naval Intelligence, but he was ruthlessly thorough. David was beginning to wonder if the good commander hadn't held off on the hospital's demolition for just this purpose, to hound him until he took refuge there and then send in the Spartans to finish the job. David came up short at the end of the hallway as it opened into a large atrium. Shadowy stairways leading up into one of the hospital's upper towers circled the walls, the glass paneling beneath their railings glistening dully in the bad light. "This was where she called in last," the doctor told him, faceless behind her broad-visored helmet. She gestured up at the stairways with her own pistol. "She's probably taking cover up there." "Not if this is the same Nimue I trained," David replied. He was already scanning the upper tower, his helmet's filters piercing the darkness in search of movement. "Too easy to be pinned down. No, she's somewhere else." "Then I'll call her. We get her, then pull back. I won't fight Spartans." "Smart," David replied, but there was an edge to her voice that told him her refusal was more than just self-preservation. He was already trying to decide what he'd say to Nimue. It had been three years. Three years since... And then an explosion tore through one of the upper stairways.
*
*
* "Hooked in?" Felix asked Team Jian. Both S-IIIs nodded as they mounted the railings and gripped their rappel lines. Felix opened the com channel to Rosch. "We're about to descend," he reported. "Is everything ready?" "The militia units are preparing to clear the first floor," the commander replied. "We will begin issuing the demolition warning in two minutes." "Copy that." Rosch would be giving everyone in the building a chance to surrender to the militia before he did what he did best: blast the entire hospital into next week. Jian's task would be to get down to the front floor as quickly as possible. If they engaged Kahn on the way, excellent. If not, he would have nowhere to run but into the troops securing the first floor. "Haven't done a rapid descent in a while," Jake admitted over the team channel. "Hope the railing holds." "On my signal," Felix ordered, climbing up alongside Jian. He was keenly aware of how much heavier his armor made him than the SPI-clad Jian commandos. The railing groaned under their combined weight. "Descend!" he barked, and then they dropped. The floors slid past them as they clattered against railing after railing, the ground growing closer with every stop. Felix glanced down again. Only about twenty meters to the atrium floor. The air was suddenly filled with smoke and fire, blasting all three Spartans clear off their rappel lines and sending them hurtling towards the ground. Felix felt the impact through his armor as his shields failed and he found himself struggling to rise amidst a pile of rubble. The blast had shattered the stairway above him, showering the atrium with shredded glass and concrete. His arms were numb as he fumbled to get his assault rifle off his back. "Jian," he coughed into the radio. "Sitrep! Now!" He heard a vague response through his tingling ears, but before he could call out again shots rang out through the atrium. Ducking down, Felix brought his rifle to bear and swept his smoky surroundings. Ralph was a few feet away. Blood leaked from a tear in his elbow joint, but he was on his feet, shotgun in hand. Jake was nowhere to be seen. Ralph spotted him and began to stumble over when a pistol shot cracked overhead. The Spartan jerked and fell, a dent in the back of his helmet. Felix jerked his rifle up and opened fire, peppering the smoking stairway with bullets. He saw a flash of movement as their small assailant ducked away, and then another flash as a figure lurched into view to block his path. Felix ceased firing in amazement. Jake had somehow managed to hurl himself onto the stairway when the bomb had gone off and was now slashing at the attacker with his combat knife. But the force of the blast had hit him harder; his movements were slow and hesitant. The attacker dodged nimbly around Jake and locked his arm in a fierce hold that threw him off-balance. The commando stumbled into the railing and his smaller opponent slipped the knife out of his hands and slashed at his back. The smoke obscured Felix's view of the fight and before he could adjust his visor's settings more shots struck him in the back. His recharging shields flared as he spun to fire on this new attacker. A powerfully built man in battered ODST armor was darting through a doorway, leaping for cover behind a bench while firing a pistol with powerful accuracy. Felix dove for cover of his own, instinctively shooting at the bench until his rifle clicked empty. Before he could reload, David Kahn--and Felix was absolutely sure this was David Kahn--vaulted over the bench and sprinted across the atrium. Felix reached for his sidearm, but in the next instant Kahn was on top of him. For a moment, Felix foolishly decided the fight was over. Kahn had made a fatal error in attacking a Spartan clad in MJOLNIR at close range. But as he lashed out with the butt of his rifle, the assassin ducked under the swing and jabbed a knife in Felix's exposed thigh. Pain shot up through Felix's leg, but he ignored it and connected the next swing of his rifle with Kahn's armored chest. Kahn's grunt of pain was audible even through his helmet, but he rolled with the impact and landed off to the side. His hands flashed as he moved through the air, and when he brought the pistol up Felix realized he had reloaded in midair. Felix threw himself backwards as Kahn opened fire. He landed on his back and desperately kicked at the floor, pushing himself across the ruined lobby and sliding behind a stripped reception desk. He heard a shotgun ring out, and pushed himself painfully up in time to see Ralph and Kahn exchanging pistol rounds and shotgun blasts. He threw a channel open to Rosch. "Commander," he gasped. "We've got him. We've engaged Kahn." "Excellent." Rosch's voice was as clipped and cold as ever, but there was a hint of triumph riding on the edge of his words. "I have a team on my Pelican. We'll be at your location shortly." Felix closed the link and looked up just as Kahn sidestepped Ralph's last shot and grabbed the S-III's shotgun. The fiery commando didn't relinquish the weapon and tugged back while trying to angle the barrel for a clear shot. Biting down against the pain, Felix pulled Kahn's knife out of his leg with one hand while drawing his own knife with the other. His sidearm had been knocked away in his brief scuffle with Kahn. Along with the grenades, they were his last weapons. Across the atrium, Kahn released one of his hands and Ralph immediately gained the upper hand in the struggle for the shotgun. But Kahn's fist leapt forward, smashing the Spartan square in the face and shattering his visor. Ralph collapsed, tumbling head over heels until he crashed into a pile of rubble. Felix gripped the knives and charged into the fray. Kahn spun to face him, pulling another knife from the equipment strapped all over his armor. He ducked and weaved through Felix's blinding pattern of slashes, moving faster and with more agility than Felix had ever seen from a man his size. It wasn't possible, not without physical augmentations... But that couldn't be possible, Felix insisted to himself. The black market couldn't have the genetic secrets to produce someone on par with a Spartan. It couldn't. And no matter how strong and fast Kahn was, Felix's armor would give him the edge in speed and power every time. Felix could see the mercenary wearing down, each slash coming closer and closer to striking home. The next time Felix attacked he slashed up, angling the tip of the knife towards Kahn's throat. Kahn leaned back, the knife flashing a hair's breath from his neck. It caught the jaw of his helmet, and as Felix yanked up it tore the armor clear off his head. Kahn stumbled back, and Felix saw his enemy's face for the first time. A chiseled, battered face completed by a head of stubbish, greying hair housed dark, predatory eyes that glared up at him, still ready to continue the fight. A meaty thud distracted them both as an armored figure struck the atrium floor. Jake, his armor bloody from several cuts on his arms and body, struggled weakly to rise before succumbing to his injuries and collapsing. Felix glanced up to see the small, recon-clad fighter aiming down at the fallen Spartan with a pistol. But he didn't fire. Instead, the small attacker's helmeted gaze was fixed on Kahn, who in turn had backed away and was looking up at the small fighter who had defeated Jake. There was a different look in his eyes now, not that of a hunter at all but something different. Felix tightened his hold on the knives. Something else was going on here, and he had a feeling in his gut that things were about to get worse. In a flash of motion, Kahn's hand plunged into a small pouch on his waist and withdrew a compact pistol, which he leveled at Jake. "Stand down, Spartan," he said before Felix could react. His voice was hard and deadly. "I will kill him." Felix froze. He had no doubts about Kahn's accuracy with a pistol, and if he aimed for a vital spot like the neck he'd kill even an augmented Spartan like Jake. Kahn saw his hesitation. Eyes narrowing, he gestured with his free hand. "The knives. Throw them down." Felix slowly lowered the knives, but didn't let them leave his hands. The best option at the moment was to drag things out, keep Kahn occupied until he slipped up or Rosch arrived with reinforcements. Beyond Kahn, Jake groaned and struggled to rise. His bloodied hands grappled with his helmet, peeling the constricting sealant away and freeing his sweaty head. Kahn followed Jake as he struggled onto his knees, the pistol centering on his head. Above them, the mysterious attacker was still frozen in place. Felix tensed. If he moved now, he could throw a knife, take out Kahn's hand before he could pull the trigger... Jake looked up at Kahn. His eyes were woozy and unfocused, probably concussed from the explosion. His judgement impaired, his ability to read the situation hampered, he only saw a man pointing a gun at him. And he had been conditioned to deal with that. He went for his sidearm and Kahn's arm tensed. Felix could practically see him reading the situation, reading it and deciding a hostage wasn't worth having a second opponent. There was no way he could move in time, and Jake was going to die. A cry rang out from across the atrium: "Jake!" The air was filled with the crack of a single pistol shot. Kahn yelled in pain, his pistol-arm dropping limply as he grabbed at the sudden wound punched in the back of his shoulder. Felix turned to see another armored figure, this one in stripped-down SPI armor, charging across the atrium. Kahn moved as well, deftly flipping the pistol into his other hand and whirling to face the new arrival. Something quick and light landed beside him, and with a blinding kick knocked the gun out of his grip. It was the small attacker. Kahn stumbled backwards, surprise flickering across his barren face. He and his new attacker faced each other, suddenly caught up in a world of there own. Felix felt something strange in his gut, a sickening feeling that he was intruding on something he wasn't meant to see. Kahn's uninjured arm flashed, an open strike for the small fighter's neck. It was blocked in an instant, as was the kick he sent up at the chest. The attacker caught his foot and spun in around to level a pistol at his head. Felix glanced back at the SPI-clad arrival. From the sound of her voice she was female, but he had no idea who she could be. But right now, his concern needed to be bringing down Kahn. He looked back just as a faint smile graced Kahn's lips. They moved in a quiet murmur, but Felix's helmet sensors picked up every word he said: Felix saw the attacker hesitate, saw the gun dip and the helmet twitch to the side. And then it tackled Kahn, sending them both tumbling into the darkness of an abandoned room. In the next instant, gunfire rent the atrium as assault weapons tore into the shadows after them. Armored ODSTs sprinted past Felix, pouring fire into the room with concentrated efficiency. One of them darted over to Felix. "Sir!" the man yelled, tossing him an assault rifle. Felix snatched the weapon out of the air, but didn't fire. He was still wondering about what exactly he had just seen. "Excellent work, lieutenant commander." Felix turned to see Rosch, still clad in his ONI overcoat, stride over to him. The man looked absolutely unflapped by the continuous barrage being leveled after Kahn. "More troops will be here in a minute," Rosch assured him. "Along with medics for the rest of Team Jian." "Sir, there's another one in there with him," Felix pointed out. "It's the one that incapacitated Jake." Rosch nodded. "A shame we can't take him alive, but I won't risk losing Kahn after all we've gone through here." He glanced over at the unknown SPI wearer, who was kneeling over the semi-concious Jake. "And it seems we've picked up another stranger as well." Ralph stumbled over, his nose bleeding through the shattered visor where Kahn had hit him. "Glad you could make it," he croaked. "You crashed one hell of a party." "Warrant Officer, keep an eye on the one over by the lieutenant," Rosch ordered. "Don't let her slip away." "Aye-aye," Ralph grumbled, but ambled over to retrieve his shotgun amidst the chaotic firing. Felix turned back to the doorway, which by now was riddled with bullet holes. The ODSTs were smart enough not to pursue Kahn into close quarters like that; three were now preparing hand grenades to lob in after him. So this was the end of David Kahn, Felix realized. There was something about him, something with the name and the way he fought, that kicked something in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel strangely sorry at the mercenary's passing. Not two feet away, an ODST jerked and collapsed. The air was suddenly filled with bullets as gunfire clattered down on them from above. Two more ODSTs were dropped before the rest scrambled for cover. Felix snapped his rifle up as dark armored figures blazed fire down on them from where they had appeared on the stairwell. "What the hell?" Ralph demanded, diving for cover. "Where'd they come from?" "Lieutenant Commander!" Rosch bellowed. "Get inside that door now! Don't let him get away!" Felix realized exactly what was happening and sprinted for the door. But a wave of assault fire struck him square in the chest and planted him flat on his back. He fired blindly into the shadows as the atrium descended into a brutal firefight. ODSTs fired from whatever cover they could find, pinned down by these unexpected newcomers. Rosch stood alone in the center of the atrium, upright amidst the corpses of the dead ODSTs. He fired his pistol up at the attackers, unflinching even as bullets tore through the air around his head. Scrambling back to his feet, Felix sprinted inside the room, ready for a fight. But just as he'd feared, there was no one there. Two neat holes had been blasted in the ceiling, as if Kahn and the mysterious fighter had simply flown out. Behind him, the gunfire died away, leaving a grisly silence in its wake. Ralph scrambled up behind Felix. "Shit!" he swore bitterly. "Who the hell were those guys?" He was gone just as quickly as he'd come, darting over to where Jake lay. Felix stared up at the ceiling in disgust, thinking of all the people who had died to bring Kahn to justice. Was all this carnage for nothing?
*
* Kahn's body was a mass of pain, but he kept pace with his black-clad saviors as they hustled him further down the hallway. His shoulder was a mess from where that doctor had shot him, but he was more concerned with the figure slung over his back. Nimue, his pride, his joy, his legacy was gasping for breath under her helmet, fighting to stay alive as blood seeped from the bullet wounds in her back. Wounds he should have taken, not her. "You better have a damn good doctor close by," he warned the hustling commandos. "On the shuttle," their leader answered curtly. "Just keep moving." "Right. And who wants me alive so bad?" "The Syndicate." That shut him up right away. Because when the Syndicate would send in its own private army to snatch you out from under the UNSC's nose, even someone as dangerous as David Kahn got nervous. But right now, all he could think of was how he had found Nimue again, and how close she had come to being snatched away again.
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* Ralph was standing stock still as Felix strode back out into the atrium. ODSTs and medical teams were scouring the area, looking for any wounded that might have escaped notice. But the rescue efforts weren't what held Ralph's focus. Over by Jake, the newcomer who had shot Kahn had taken off her helmet. A young woman with chestnut hair and sharp features leaned over the recovering Jake, hands deftly flashing over his wounds as she applied bandages and biofoam with an artist's speed and precision. Felix frowned, but Ralph seemed to have been knocked out of his usual callous demeanor. "I don't believe it," he breathed. "It's really you..." The young woman looked up at him with eyes full of shock and relief. "Ralph," she said quietly. "It's been... I mean, this isn't..." "Cass... and... ra..." Jake coughed weakly. "You're alive," Ralph said, stunned. "SPARTAN-G006," Rosch noted, striding over to them. He ran out the name as if he were reading off some invisible dossier. "Formerly of Team Kopis, transferred to Team Jian. Classified as missing in action, presumed dead just after the Great War." Ralph and Felix both saluted. "Sir," Ralph began. "What--" Rosch silenced him with a wave of his hand. "The Office of Naval Intelligence has been looking for you ever since you surfaced back on Famul," he told the young woman, Cassandra. His voice was as hard as iron as he waved a pair of ODSTs forward. "Take her into custody," he ordered. "Sir?" Ralph demanded. "What's going on?" Cassandra didn't resist as the ODSTs yanked her to her feet and secured her arms behind her back. "Cassandra-G006, you are under arrest for the crimes of desertion and aiding known traitors," Rosch informed her. "Your kind can never run forever. Not from ONI."
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