Chapter 39: In The Presence of Enemies Part INaomi gasped sharply as the mech's massive claw compressed her cockpit, metal shrieking in her ears as panels buckled inward. She strained desperately against the controls, trying futilely to free herself from the crushing grip. Panic surged, wild and cold, through her veins. Her eyes darted toward the retreating figures of Castin and the others as they vanished into the distant building.
"No!" she screamed, voice breaking in desperation. "Wait! Come back!"
But her cry was swallowed by the mechanical cacophony, leaving her utterly alone. Pain blossomed fiercely through her chest as she struggled, each breath feeling shallower than the last. She forced herself to stillness, focusing her thoughts, reaching out desperately with her power for any nearby mind, any lifeline she could grasp onto.
To her surprise, she encountered something, something unlike anything she'd felt before. It wasn't a mind exactly, but rather a kind of anchor, a waiting connection, hovering at the edge of perception. She probed it carefully, bewildered and cautious.
The mech suit?
Confusion clouded her thoughts, a faint tremor shaking through her limbs. How was that possible? These weren't living things; they didn't have minds. And yet, there it was, unmistakable, a mental pathway laid out like circuitry, a subtle invitation from the machine.
"No," she whispered, incredulous and desperate. But denial wasn't a luxury she could afford. She latched onto the strange anchor, embracing it fully, her own consciousness sliding like liquid metal through channels built meticulously, built, she realized with bitter clarity, by Nikodemus himself.
Maybe I can use this to free myself, she thought urgently. Maybe I can still get out...
A sudden violent spasm interrupted her, wrenching her body forward in a coughing fit. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, warm and thick. Trembling, she reached up with shaking fingers, touching them gingerly to her lips before pulling them away, confirming her fear in stark crimson.
"Damn it," she murmured weakly, determination flickering through growing desperation. "Come on."
She pushed deeper into the unnatural mental framework, her thoughts threading delicately through alien channels, bridging gaps and forcing connections until another inert mech nearby groaned and shuddered to life. She focused harder, commanding it forward with precise, careful intention.
The massive suit lumbered toward her crushed cockpit, its heavy footsteps echoing through the cavern. It stepped carefully past the mangled remains of the mech she'd defeated earlier, looming above her with careful, precise control. With agonizing slowness, Naomi guided its mechanical claw downward, instructing it with surgical care to peel away the warped metal imprisoning her.
A sharp, blinding pain exploded through her as the claw pulled away a shard of steel embedded deeply into her lower back. She screamed, vision darkening momentarily as agony blurred everything into a haze of white-hot torment.
Finally, with a tortured groan of metal, the cockpit bent open enough to grant her release. She tumbled from her ruined seat, landing roughly on the cold, unyielding stone floor below. Tears stung fiercely in her eyes as she gasped for breath, her entire body trembling violently.
Helpless sobs shook her shoulders, each breath a struggle against the searing pain coursing through her. Yet as she lay battered and bloodied, despair slowly gave way to raw, primal anger. Rage kindled inside her chest, fierce and burning, chasing away the numbing fear.
"I won't..." she hissed through clenched teeth, forcing herself upward, using the mech's outstretched claw as a support. "I won't die here. Not here. Not now."
Staggering onto her feet, she fixed her gaze unsteadily upon the main facility building ahead, its imposing structure illuminated harshly under the distant lights. Nikodemus waited there, she could feel it, the knowledge as certain and undeniable as gravity itself.
She moved forward haltingly, driven by sheer stubbornness. Tunnel vision narrowed her focus solely onto her destination. She stumbled frequently, yet each time forced herself onward, eyes locked relentlessly ahead, utterly oblivious to everything else, the catwalks looming silently overhead, the quiet whispers of machinery in the cavern shadows.
When at last she reached the massive doors, she paused, swaying unsteadily, her breath shallow and ragged. The familiar, disembodied voice began its greeting once more.
"Biometric match identified. Wel—"
"Shut the hell up," Naomi growled harshly, silencing the voice instantly.
With a trembling breath, she stepped forward, the doors sliding open soundlessly before her.
Naomi crossed the threshold, staggering slightly as the heavy doors hissed shut behind her, sealing her within the sterile confines of the facility. The sudden shift in atmosphere was disorienting; where the cavern had been dimly lit, rough-hewn, and oppressive, here everything gleamed harshly beneath clinical, white light. The acrid scent of antiseptic and bleach filled her senses, sharp and overwhelming, nearly choking her.
She stumbled forward, one hand pressed desperately against the slick white wall to steady herself, leaving a streak of vivid crimson trailing behind, a violent splash of color against the pristine, sterile backdrop. Pain pulsed rhythmically through her body with every faltering step, each breath ragged and wet, her vision swimming in and out of focus.
Terminals lined the walls on either side of her, screens flickering quietly, attended by empty chairs that spun slightly, moved by some unseen force of her passage. Everything seemed abandoned, left untouched and eerily pristine, as though whoever had been here had simply stood and vanished in the middle of their tasks.
Naomi barely registered any of it. Her gaze was fixed unwaveringly on a set of double doors at the far end of the hall, two slabs of black glass, starkly out of place amid the uniform whiteness that surrounded her. They stood ominously silent, like a dark promise of answers or perhaps more questions, waiting beyond.
She pushed forward again, propelled by sheer willpower alone, her footsteps echoing weakly against the polished floor. Each step was an act of defiance, a silent scream of rebellion against the weakness spreading through her limbs.
Reaching the doors, she paused, swaying unsteadily on her feet. As though sensing her presence, the black glass panels whispered open without a sound, revealing a laboratory beyond, expansive and filled with technology that felt alien and unnerving in its complexity.
At its center stood a figure, back turned to her, attention absorbed entirely by the terminal before him. Naomi recognized him instantly, a chill running down her spine, mixing strangely with the feverish heat radiating through her veins.
Nikodemus.
He stopped abruptly, fingers frozen mid-motion over the keyboard, seeming to sense her presence. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression one of mild irritation rather than surprise.
"You look lost, little wolf," he said softly, almost dismissively, his voice calm, tinged with condescension. "Run home. You don't belong here."
With that, he turned back, resuming his typing, effectively dismissing her entirely.
A bitter rage surged through Naomi, sharp and raw, stinging her eyes with tears of fury and pain. Her voice trembled, echoing harshly through the sterile room, shattering the fragile silence.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Nikodemus made no response, his fingers continuing their work uninterrupted, his back to her as though she was beneath his notice. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, vision dimming dangerously as the room seemed to spin.
Naomi staggered forward another step, her voice dying in her throat as darkness clawed at the edges of her vision. Her strength evaporated suddenly, legs buckling beneath her as she fell heavily to the cold, white floor.
As consciousness slipped away, a detached mechanical voice filled the void around her:
"Low biometric life signs detected. Preparing emergency medical attention."
The last thing Naomi felt before blackness swallowed her completely was the cool, unyielding surface of the lab's floor against her cheek, and the bitter certainty that, once again, her fate lay in the hands of forces beyond her control.
Beyond the walls of the facility, moving through the stark, cavernous expanse of the compound. Castin's eyes flickered downward with every step forward, tracking the thin trail of blood droplets that marked Naomi's erratic path. The facility around them loomed silently, filled only with the oppressive hum of distant machinery and the occasional drip of condensation echoing from far above.
Illuminated dimly by rows of stark white floodlights suspended high in the ceiling, the space was dominated by massive machinery, storage containers, and loading equipment scattered haphazardly across the concrete floor. Long shadows stretched across the expanse, twisted by the uneven lighting, as if reaching toward the group with grasping fingers.
Castin paused momentarily, inspecting a smear of crimson against the dull grey of a support pillar. He reached out, touching it gently, still sticky, still fresh.
"She's barely holding it together," he murmured quietly.
Matias moved beside him, his gaze scanning their surroundings warily. His voice was low, tense. "Yet she still keeps moving forward. Wherever she was going, she was determined to reach it."
The group fanned out slightly, weapons raised cautiously as they maneuvered around a forklift whose mechanical arm hung suspended mid-task, its heavy load abandoned and forgotten. Castin noted how nothing around them appeared disturbed by combat or rushed abandonment, just suspended motion, as if the facility had simply been frozen in time.
Lorne moved quietly, his eyes flickering uneasily upward toward the network of metal catwalks suspended far above their heads. They crisscrossed chaotically, dark and silent, like metallic spiderwebs woven above their heads.
"Feels like we're being watched," Lorne muttered uneasily, his voice edged with latent paranoia. "All these catwalks, perfect place for an ambush or a sniper."
Vance grimaced, eyeing the shadows warily. "Could be. Or maybe whatever crew was here packed up and left in a hurry. Sure feels empty, don't it?"
Matias shook his head slowly, his voice barely a whisper. "Empty or not, stay sharp."
Castin led them further, following Naomi's intermittent trail of blood droplets, crimson flecks stark against the dullness of their surroundings. His footsteps echoed quietly, disturbing the fragile quiet around them.
To their left, several large containers lay stacked, their faded labels unreadable beneath layers of grime. Castin glanced at them briefly, recognizing UNSC symbols half-hidden beneath dirt and corrosion. Stolen Supplies? Smuggled Weapons? He didn't have time to investigate now, but it left a nagging question at the back of his mind: How deep had Nikodemus' reach truly extended?
They pressed onward, passing beneath a row of inactive industrial lifts, their empty harnesses swaying gently in some phantom breeze. The rhythmic creak of their motion resonated softly, eerie and unnatural in the otherwise motionless space.
Matias broke the silence again, glancing toward a massive machine bolted into the floor, its angular arms poised mid-action, halted abruptly as though in response to some invisible command.
"These machines," he said quietly, "whatever happened here, it wasn't a sudden attack. It looks like everything was stopped deliberately, paused right in the middle of work. Controlled, precise. A mass exodus."
Castin nodded grimly, eyes narrowing as the insight settled coldly within him. "Seems to be exactly Nikodemus' style."
The towering doors to the main facility loomed in front of them, cold and unyielding. Their smooth, reflective surface bore no mark or handle, just a seamless expanse of polished metal, an imposing barrier between them and whatever lay beyond flanked by a complex array of dormant security panels.
The blood trail grew thicker and more pronounced, smearing across the threshold like an accusation.
Castin stepped forward cautiously, placing his palm against the chilled metal. For a heartbeat, nothing happened, then a smooth, mechanical female voice filled the silence around them:
"Unrecognized biometric signatures. Access denied."
Castin hesitated, keeping his palm against the cool, smooth surface of the door. Frustration prickled at the back of his neck as he withdrew his hand, eyes searching for an alternative.
Matias paused, scanning the doorway carefully. "Well, judging how doors seem to just open for her. Chances are she's inside."
Lorne stepped forward, trying a control panel beside the door. He punched a few buttons cautiously, but the panel remained stubbornly inactive, its digital readout blank and unresponsive.
"Damn it," Castin growled softly, stepping back and clenching his fists at his sides. He glanced briefly toward Matias, frustration simmering beneath his words. "Without Naomi it looks like our welcome has ran out."
Vance exhaling a tense breath. "Either way, she triggered something we can't. Obviously she must be special in more ways than one."
Matias scanned the surrounding walls and panels intently, his eyes calculating and methodical. He turned back to the group, voice steady with determination. "Then we find another way in."
Lorne glanced upward, squinting toward the darkened catwalks crisscrossing high above them. "Maybe there's a vent, or maintenance shaft? Facilities this size always have auxiliary access points."
Castin considered this, already moving along the smooth walls, his fingers tracing seams and panel edges. "Alright, fan out. Look carefully, there's got to be something."
The team quickly dispersed, combing through the nearby clutter of abandoned machinery and tangled cables, each movement filled with quiet urgency. Matias pulled aside a thick bundle of cables, revealing nothing but solid concrete. Lorne checked along the base of the wall, fingers testing each seam carefully, shaking his head in silent frustration.
It was Vance, finally, who called out quietly from near the far corner, his voice a blend of relief and sardonic resignation "Hey, found something over here. You guys are gonna love it but you're gunna have to think Rat for this."
Castin moved swiftly to join him, the others close behind. Vance stood beside a partially obscured maintenance hatch, hidden behind stacks of equipment and tangled wiring. The panel was dull with corrosion, its edges worn from years of disuse.
Matias pried at the edges, muscles straining against the stubborn metal. Castin cleared his throat "Hey, not that you aren't doing a great job but uh, maybe I could try?" Matias stopped, shooting Castin a dirty look before continuing.
The hatch finally opened with a final groan, revealing a narrow, dimly lit crawlspace behind it. The narrow tunnel stretched into shadows, barely large enough for a single person to crawl through at a time.
Vance peered inside, letting out a sarcastic sigh. "See, you're gunna have to think Rat. Well except for us Matias, we'll just have to think... us."
Garret's absence loomed heavy in the silence, a reminder of how precarious their numbers had become and a reminder of how only Garret thought Vance was funny.
Lorne stepped up patting Vance on the back, eyes scanning the crawlspace uneasily, then turned to Castin. "We'll have to holster our weapons going through there, tight quarters. Means we'll be vulnerable."
Castin nodded slowly, jaw tight. "We don't have much of a choice."
He lowered himself onto his hands and knees, the rough metal scraping uncomfortably against his palms as he entered the cramped, shadowed passageway first. "Keep it tight. We move slow, we move quiet."
Matias followed immediately after, his voice grim but reassuring. "We'll get through this."
One by one, they entered the narrow space, their breathing echoing softly against the close metal walls. As the panel swung gently shut behind them, the darkness closed in, claustrophobic, oppressive, and thick with tension. They moved forward cautiously, the passageway pressing in around them, aware that every inch deeper brought them closer to Naomi and whatever awaited within the heart of Nikodemus' lair.
Castin stumbled forward, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the stark, overwhelming brightness of the facility's interior. Gleaming white walls stretched out around them, pristine and clinical, a jarring contrast to the grime-caked tunnels and rust-streaked caverns they'd passed through.
"Well, wasn't expecting a hospital," Vance muttered sarcastically, wiping dirt from his hands and grimacing at the cleanliness surrounding him.
Castin let out a grunt "I hate Hospitals."
Vance chuckled "you should try apples."
Matias stepped cautiously forward shaking his head, eyes narrowing sharply. His gaze quickly settled on the stark crimson handprints smeared hastily along the wall, the blood startlingly vivid against the white backdrop.
"Looks like Naomi was in a hurry," Matias observed, his voice taut with concern.
Castin stepped closer, staring at the smears of blood with growing unease. "Or desperate."
Lorne moved slightly ahead, craning his neck to scan further down the stark white hallway, stopping when his eyes landed on a set of imposing black glass doors at the far end. "Well, if I had to guess where the ominous villainous lair is, I'd put my money on those doors," he remarked dryly, glancing back toward the group with a wry, tense expression.
Before Castin could reply, movement caught their collective attention. The black doors slid open soundlessly, and a figure stepped calmly into the hallway. He was tall, with a composed, commanding posture, eyes sharp and penetrating, yet something about him felt distinctly off.
Instantly, weapons snapped up, trained unwaveringly on the newcomer.
Castin advanced carefully, weapon leveled, voice edged with suspicion. "Just who the hell are you? Where's Nikodemus? Where's Naomi?"
The man tilted his head slightly, a strange smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He regarded Castin with unsettling calmness. "Oh good emissaries of the King and friends of my little wolf. I'm so glad you're here for her, but she's a bit busy right now, you see. She wasn't in the best shape when she arrived."
He gestured subtly toward the bloody smears on the walls, never breaking eye contact with Castin, his expression polite yet profoundly unnerving.
"Seems I may have been a little rough trying to ward you all off."
Castin's fingers tightened on his weapon, a cold shiver of unease running down his spine. He gave a subtle signal to the group behind him, voice low and urgent. "Something's wrong with this guy. More than what's obviously wrong with him."
Vance, however, was already staring off to the side, his shotgun wavering uncertainly in his hands. "Uh... I don't mean to interrupt our little moment here, but if he's Nikodemus, I think they're Nikodemus too."
Castin glanced sharply where Vance indicated. His blood ran cold as five identical figures materialized from an adjacent hallway, there forms seemingly coming together out of thin air at first glance. Upon closer inspection it seemed they were made up from the same scale like material the large door was from before. their synchronized footsteps echoing gently against the stark white floors. They halted, forming a neat line beside the first man, identical faces calmly regarding the infiltration team.
As one, the Nikodemuses spoke in a chillingly synchronized voice, smooth and devoid of emotion
"I don't think you'll be joining her. You'll have to leave."
A tense silence stretched through the sterile hall, every muscle and nerve among Castin's team poised to react. Castin drew himself up, determination solidifying in his voice, a fierce resolve cutting sharply through his growing dread
"Like hell we're leaving without her."