Chapter 19: Weather Station Z/41

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"After all the bullshit we went through on Polaris, I was pretty sure that I'd more than had my fill of being outdoors in the snow, and yet..." Izzy muttered as they drove slowly back out into the gray sunlight.

"Here we are," Greg replied, and knew exactly how she felt.

He drove the Hog forward until they were up the incline leading from the tunnel and back on level ground, where the road smoothed out, and they were given a tremendous view of the area. The road continued for dozens and dozens of miles, eventually curving to the right, disappearing behind a massive stand of trees. Off to the left was a mountain range. To the left and the right were massive ice fields and small copses of snow-capped trees and the occasional frozen lake.

Greg took several deep breaths and tried to calm down as he brought the Warthog to a full stop and put it in park. That tunnel had been...a bit much. And had definitely taken longer than he'd initially thought, and hoped, it would. According to the chronometer in his helmet, which appeared to be working decently well, they had been at it for two and a half hours down in that miserable, wretched place. There had been long stretches of nothingness, just the empty tunnel, starkly lit by the generator that Izzy had repaired, which were glorious reprieves from fighting the damned Flood. He'd seen some bad combat before, but...

Fighting literal rotting zombie monsters in a giant, underground, freezing tunnel ranked pretty high up there as far as terrible encounters went.

It might actually hit number one.

"We should, uh, we should report in, let Becker know we did it," Izzy said after several minutes.

Greg nodded and activated his radio. "Yeah," he muttered as he dialed in. He had to admit, he kind of just wanted to hear the guy's response, because the Sergeant had almost sent them on a suicide mission, and they'd come out the other side intact.

After a moment, he actually had it working. The weather seemed pretty clear now, although now that he was actually paying attention to it, he thought that he did see an odd, very light green sheen to the sky, but it might be his imagination.

"I'm sorry, who is this? Over."

Greg sighed. "Corporal Greg Walker. I'm looking for Sergeant Becker, immediately. It's urgent. Over."

"I, um...okay, one moment. Sorry." A pause. Then a belated, "Um, over."

"What was that about?" Izzy muttered, listening in with her own radio.

"No idea, but it's annoying," he replied quietly.

After several minutes, a familiar voice came onto the line. "This you, Walker? Serrano? You actually made it through that tunnel? Over."

"Yes, this is Walker and Serrano. We made it. It wasn't easy. There were dozens of the damned things down there, but we successfully restored power, cleared the worst of the wrecks out of the way, and cleaned the place out in terms of Flood, at least as far as we could manage. We probably killed fifty or sixty of the things. Over," Greg replied.

"That's unbelievable! But great! You did great! Are you okay? Over."

"We're fine. Tired, but fine. We found some more ammo. What's with the guy who answered the radio? Over."

"Oh, him? He's a civvie. We've got not the best situation here right now, and I don't have enough personnel to cover radio duty, so we allocated some of the jobs to the civilians. That's how desperate we are right now. Where are you right now? Over."

"Just outside of the tunnel on the opposite side, the mainland side. Over."

"Uh. Okay..." A pause. "Hold on. Over." Greg waited, glancing at Izzy. She returned his look of uneasy reluctance. Something about the way his tone had shifted indicated he didn't have good news for them. The radio buzzed and hummed as they waited for Becker to come back. Finally, after what felt like too long, he did. "Okay, I'm back. Sorry. Things are a real mess over here, don't know if I've mentioned that yet. In case you didn't notice, the sky is kind of green. That's a residual charge leftover in the upper ionosphere, we think, from the solar flare from the local star. We think. Point is, we don't have enough data to really figure it out, and all we really do know is that it's screwing with radar, scanners, some radios, and our ability to fly, which is making this whole situation a hell of a lot more complicated than it needs to be.

"We need more data. One of the things I was hoping to do on this little roadtrip that has completely stalled at this point was to make a pitstop at a little weather research installation hanging off the side of a cliff not too far from your current position. Over."

"...why is it hanging off the side of a cliff?...uh, over," Greg asked.

"I admittedly don't know, but it is. Originally it was government built, government funded, and eventually it got passed down to a corporation. Anyway, point is, there's a chance they might have some data that we need there, if their instruments were working properly. Data relating to the incident. We're collecting as many pieces as we can right now. I need you to swing by and gather that data if it's there. Over."

Greg suppressed the very powerful urge to sigh heavily. "Understood, Sergeant. Lance Corporal Serrano and I will proceed to the weather research installation and recover the data if it's there. Over," he replied.

"Thank you. I'm sending another data packet that has the coordinates. I'll have a second data packet ready for you after you complete this objective. I, uh, I admit that I wasn't sure if you were going to make it out of that tunnel. But you did, and you two clearly know your stuff, which means I'm going to be relying on you for a number of things. Over."

"I see." His helmet chimed as it received the data packet. He had it display over his HUD and saw that the way there was incredibly simple: drive forward five miles, then hitch a right and drive for another mile and a half, and they'd be there. There apparently wasn't anything else on the way there to even check out. "We'll call you when we've completed the objective. Out."

He cut the link. Technically, the one with the higher rank was supposed to 'out' the conversation, but Greg was having a pretty garbage day. And he was just now beginning to get an idea of the scope of how much worse it was going to get, and how much longer it was going to go on for, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to just get this over with. He looked at Izzy again, and her look told him she felt the same way.

They started driving.

* * *

Greg kept a sharp eye out for anything of value, or anything threatening, as he made the drive to the weather station. Derelict cars, Flood, wildlife, signs of survivors...He saw almost nothing. The only thing that caught his eye was a single, derelict vehicle that had been burned nearly to its frame, and also some Combat Forms moving off in the far distance through the snow.

They looked like they were hunting.

He wanted to kill them, but they were a ways out there, off the road, and he was certain he'd get more than enough opportunity to kill a lot of Flood in the upcoming future. The drive itself was easy enough. Besides the road being icy, which the vehicle handled pretty well, there were no problems. The side road they took ultimately terminated in a parking lot that was perched not all that far away from the edge of a cliff.

And suddenly Greg got an idea of what Becker had been talking about.

They got out after making sure there were no Flood hanging around, and Greg felt a bit of hope as he saw that there were two cars parked in the lot. Though it was obvious that no one had been near them in at least a few days. They took a moment to check out the cars, both of them simple civilian vehicles, but there wasn't anything of any real use in them hidden away anywhere. There at least weren't corpses in there.

"Why is this a thing?" Izzy muttered when they got up to the edge of the sudden drop where nothing more than a simple guardrail stood between them and oblivion. Over the edge, directly below them, maybe fifteen meters down, was a structure of metal jutting out of the icy rock sheer. "Like no, really, why would someone build this here?"

"There must be a reason," Greg replied, considering it for several moments. "I mean, this had to be expensive. Like, a lot more expensive than just building it on the surface. Maybe it was...maybe the placement gave them some kind of advantage? Hell, I don't know. I've got no idea. But I guess it doesn't matter. We still need to go down there."

She growled. "This sucks."

"Yep. Seems to be a lot of that going around recently." He sighed heavily. He was still exhausted from the tunnel, and all the other crap that had come before it. But hadn't he spent years now developing his endurance, building it? In a strange way, he couldn't help but feel like everything he'd been doing, preparing for, all his combat experience and training and pushing himself, all of it had led to this particular situation. Though, he supposed, technically speaking it always led to whatever particular situation he currently found himself in.

But...Wintermute did feel significant.

It was probably the Flood. He'd never had to fight those monstrous, decaying bastards before. Greg reminded himself that he'd had like twenty relaxing minutes in the snow hog on the drive over here, (though it might not even have been that much), and that he could do this. He also reminded himself that there was still potentially a recon team out there somewhere, waiting for backup, struggling against the Flood and the elements, and right now, he and Izzy were that backup, and every second they wasted was another second that brought that team closer to death. If they weren't already dead by now.

There was a simple structure next to the parking lot, and they walked over to it, shotguns fully loaded and ready for action. Greg took point, hitting the button and hoping against hope that the power was still on. And it was! The door opened up, revealing a dimly-lit stairwell descending into the frozen earth. It looked clear.

"UNSC Marines, coming down!" he called, and waited, listening.

Nothing but silence, and the cold wind blowing.

He readjusted his grip on his shotgun and began making his way down the stairs. His boots echoed and the sound was somehow powerfully lonely. Though the effect was lessened as Izzy began walking. It felt good to have her there with him, watching his back, knowing that she'd fight for him just as hard as he'd fight for her. Greg took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the frozen air fill his lungs and sharpen his senses once more.

There could be anything waiting for them.

He reached the base of the stairwell and found an open door there. It led into a simple transitional room, a metal chamber that held nothing more than a desk and a chair. He shifted behind the desk, shining the flashlight's beam into the shadowy niche beneath it, and found nothing. On the desk was a cup of coffee, frozen solid, and when he tried to activate the simple terminal he found there, it wouldn't even turn on. With a soft sigh, he left the desk and moved over to the only other door in the room, where Izzy waited for him.

This one was closed and wouldn't open. She tracked down the manual release, pressed it, and together they got the door open, shoving it into its niche in the wall. They revealed a corridor with walls mostly made of glass, including a lot of the floor and the ceiling. The view was admittedly pretty spectacular. Far below them, they could see a churning ocean, and a wall of rock and ice to either side of them. Greg also noticed that a lot of the glass was cracked.

"You've got to be kidding me," Izzy muttered.

"Nice and steady," Greg replied. "Stay two meters apart."

"Check."

He went first, keeping clear of the glass. Up ahead, between two panes of glass, mounted on the right wall, was a sign.

                                                            WELCOME TO
                                                WEATHER STATION Z/41

It, like everything else, was partially frosted over. They moved down the length of the metal and glass tunnel, their movements slow and cautious. As they reached the end of it, where it terminated in another closed door, a subtle vibration ran through the entire area, and he heard a loud metallic groan resonate all around him.

"Oh come on!" Izzy whispered harshly.

Greg stepped up to the door, found the manual release, and forced it open. He stepped carefully into the next room, another antechamber, and cleared it with a sweep of his shotgun. It was a simple metal cube with three more ways to go. There were helpful signs placed over each door. Right led to the living quarters, left led to the weather control room, dead ahead were the utilities.

"All right, we're going to do a simple sweep and clear. You should take the weather control. If there is any data to recover, you have a better chance of doing so. I'll clear the living quarters. Keep an eye out for survivors, stay in contact over the radio."

"Got it," she replied tightly. She hesitated. "Good luck."

"You too."

They split up. His door was partially open, and it took him a moment to force it the rest of the way. Once it was open, he made his way down another corridor, and again the entire thing shook slightly and a metallic groan filled the air. His stomach turned over and filled with ice. To be honest, he'd rather be facing down more Flood. If this thing went down, they were probably going down with it. There really wasn't an alternative.

Greg tried to find a compromise between speed and safety, moving down the corridor and coming to another crossroads area. Three more doors awaited him. This time his choices were Dormitories, Cafeteria, and Infirmary. The infirmary seemed like a good first place to start, though he didn't hold out much hope for finding any survivors here. As he moved up to the door and went through the process of getting it open, he felt another tremor run through the installation's superstructure. He ignored it as best he could and slipped into the room beyond, glad for the windows and the natural light, bleak and gray though it was.

It showed him that the infirmary was largely untouched, save for some electrical damage. Clearly, several pieces of equipment had overloaded. Screens were blown out, scorch marks had been seared into the walls in some places, the floor had pieces of metal and shards of glass spilled across it. Greg moved into the room, the glass crunching beneath his boots, and he quickly checked any conceivable hiding place. The cabinets were empty, the storage closet vacant, the simple bathroom at the back of the room derelict.

As he slipped back out into the crossroads and made for the cafeteria, he jumped as his radio crackled to life. "Bad news. Over."

He forced himself to relax, hating how keyed up he was. "What's wrong? Over."

"Found two dead personnel here in the control room. They were hit by overloading equipment, fried pretty much. Over."

"Damn...what about the data? Any chance of recovery? Over."

"Maybe. Not all of this stuff is fried. Let me keep looking. Over."

"Understood. Out."

The door to the cafeteria opened up easily enough, and he performed a quick search of it. As he poked through more niches and hiding places, the station shuddered and groaned twice more, and it seemed to be louder and last longer each time, but that could be his imagination. He finished his search, again finding nothing, (save for some food, the most preserved of which he tossed into his pack, because he wasn't sure if there would be enough time to come back for more), and finally moved onto the dorms.

As he got the door open and found himself in a hallway with several doors, his radio once more crackled. "Good news and bad news. Over."

"Go. Over."

"It looks like the core database is actually intact. The bad news is that it has no power. We'll need an independent power source to hook up to it, or maybe we can get the generator going. Over," Izzy explained.

"I thought this place had some power left. Over," Greg replied, remembering the functional lights on the way down.

"It does, but it's emergency power and it's failing. Some stuff over here still does have power, though it's obvious the doors lost their circuit. I might be able to figure something out from here. I'll get back to you. Over."

"Understood. I'm almost finished-oh crap."

"What? What's wrong? Over."

"Uh...just found a dead body. Someone froze to death in their sleep, it looks like...over." He had been working his way through a series of dormitories, which were little more than very small rooms meant for individuals, (at least they didn't have to double up), and found an unmoving, frozen-over corpse in one of the beds. He shined his flashlight over them and found himself looking at a pale blonde woman. She looked almost peaceful. He felt a stab of grief, and a thought that was almost like a bomb, in that it was both extremely powerful and packed with intense meaning and deep emotions, and just burst open all at once, hit him.

Who was she? What was her history? Did she have family left? Who were her friends? Was she in a relationship? Where was she at in her life? What were her goals? Her dreams? Her fears? What emotional trauma did she carry? Was she trying to work past it? Did she have a pet somewhere? Did she die happy?

These questions, and dozens more, hit him all at once because this was a narrative path that he'd been down so many times now. He'd seen so many dead people, seen people dying with blood pumping out of them. He'd seen panic and terror and rage and disbelief and, sometimes, relief. Too much lately he'd seen that look, it felt like.

That look that said: Finally, it's over. The suffering is done. Finally.

"...said are you still there, Greg? Over."

He shook his head. He'd lost focus there for a second. "Sorry. Still here. Try to find some way of getting power to that core. We need that data. Out."

Greg quickly finished searching the dorms, and found no other bodies. By his count, judging from the way the bedrooms seemed stocked, it appeared that there should be four personnel here. Unless someone was doubling up, which was possible. So far, they'd found three, but he had doubts that anyone had made it out of here alive, unless there was another way off this platform. Which was also possible.

After finishing his sweep, Greg began making his way back. "On my way to you again, Izzy. Over."

"Good. We'll meet in the middle. Over," she replied, and her voice doubled as he drew closer to the central room and saw her coming down the opposite hallway towards him.

"What'd you find?" he asked.

"That the answer isn't in the control room. If I can find a battery or a power cell of some kind, I can hook it to the workstation in question, and just download the data to a datapad that we can easily bring with us," she explained.

"Then let's get into the utilities wing and track one down, this place is making me nervous," he replied, and as if to punctuate his sentence, the whole structure once more

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