"Say that again, Sergeant?"

"I said we now have a completely new type of Flood. It's stealthy. It stalks. I have the corpse with me," Greg replied.

"Well, that's good at least. What did it look like?" Gibson asked.

"Kinda like a giant bug, to be honest. Walked on four legs, then on two. It has pincer-like appendages. We had to trick it to come to us. I put it down with three pistol shots. It's definitely violent. We also managed to find another survivor, a Private. He's officially part of Task Force Reaper now," Greg explained.

"Good work. Hold onto that body. Before long you're going to be finding someone who can do research on this crap."

"You sending someone our way?"

"Not yet. Soon, hopefully. Anything else?"

"Negative. We're driving back now. Going to go investigate the observatory, Listening Post Echo, after stopping by the base."

"Affirmative. Keep me appraised. Out."

Greg sighed and grunted as he hit a bump. It had taken a solid hour to search that base. He and Coretti had gone hunting for more basic supplies after they'd secured the dead thing, what Greg was thinking of now as a stalker, in the back of their snow Carrier Warthog. They'd gathered up a bit more medical supplies, any and all guns and ammo they could find, and a few cases of meals. After Izzy had salvaged whatever parts she could from the generator, she made a sweep and scooped up any tools or spare parts that looked important.

With that done, they were driving back, and Coretti unfortunately had to sit in back with the corpse. He at least wasn't complaining.

"You doing okay back there, Coretti?" Greg asked.

"I'm fine," he replied, though he sounded tense.

"We're almost there." He activated the squad frequency. "This is Walker, we're returning to base. Got another survivor and a new Flood. These ones look like giant bugs and they sneak, so be aware," he reported. "Do you copy? Over."

"Copy all," Ellis replied. "A new Flood? Great. Over."

"Anything happening there? Over."

"Negative. No change. Over."

"Understood. Be there in a few minutes. Out."

Greg drove on. He had to admit, he was nervous, having that thing in the back. Coretti was keeping watch, but still, it was so freaky looking. But worse, it was so different. What did it mean? The questions kept haunting him even as he finished the drive back and pulled up behind Armitage Station. He saw Larsen coming out to meet him.

"What's happening?" Greg asked as he killed the engine and hopped out.

"Nothing. No activity of any kind," Larsen replied. "I heard on the radio...you said there's a new one?"

"Yep," Greg said, walking around to the back of the Warthog. "Meet our new teammate, Private Coretti."

"Oh, uh, hey. I'm Larsen," Larsen said.

"Good to meet you," Coretti replied.

Izzy joined them as Greg grabbed the limp form of the Flood creature. It wasn't all that heavy, maybe fifty pounds at most, but he hated carrying it. He hated touching it at all.

"Wow, that's...holy crap, that's ugly," Larsen muttered.

"Yep. Where are we with those jobs I left you?" Greg asked as he started walking towards the trio of sheds in the back.

"Flood corpses are out front, laid out on the landing pads. We managed to find some tarps to throw over them. We also collected up the, uh...bits and pieces that fell off in the fighting, and threw them all into a hazmat pack. We're just finishing up with the dead that weren't turned. It's looking like we'll have enough bodybags," Larsen replied as they followed after him.

"Good. Go get another one and stuff this ugly bastard into it. It's new so I think we need to work to preserve it a bit more. Someone get the door," he muttered.

Coretti quickly stepped forward and hit the access button since Greg's hands were full. The equipment shed was mostly full of dead bodies inside of bodybags, stacked like firewood. With a soft sigh, Greg found a place for the new Flood creature, set it down, and then walked out. He closed the door behind him.

"How are we gonna study them?" Larsen asked.

"Still working on that." He looked over as Ellis emerged with a bodybag slung over her shoulder. She steadily approached them and Greg opened the door for her. "How's Laney?"

"His vitals are stable. The biofoam is taking well. He seems pretty strong. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up very soon," Ellis replied.

"How about body clean-up?" Greg asked.

"That was the last one. All that's left is blood and...other stuff."

"Perfect. Well, Coretti, for the time being, you answer to Lance Corporal Ellis here. Ellis, clean and secure as much of the base with these two as you can while Izzy and I are gone. Ideally we'll be back with enough parts to fix the generator," Greg replied. "Though right now I need your help unloading the Warthog."

"Yes, Sergeant," she said, then she looked at Larsen and Coretti. "Come on, kids, let's get to work."

They spent several minutes offloading the supplies they'd found at the abandoned military outpost, then he and Izzy mounted up and started driving in the opposite direction, towards a road that would take them higher up in the mountains and towards the deep space observation post.

* * *

"You think we're making the same mistake as last time?" Izzy asked as they drove through a winding path beset on either side by icy cliffs, making their way slowly, gradually up towards the observatory.

"Which one?" Greg replied. The wind had died down enough that they didn't need their radios to talk to each other.

"Not taking anyone with us. We got lucky last time."

"We can handle it."

"You seem pretty confident."

He shrugged. "We've done well so far. But, I mean, I'm not that confident. I guess...I'm gambling."

"Gambling?"

"Yeah. That's what command decisions are: a gamble. That's what every decision is, really. Right now, we need to get that base up and running. The more people we have back there the longer, the better, because they can get the work done while we get this work done out here. Of course I'm gambling that you and I will survive."

"Been a good bet so far," Izzy murmured, though she didn't sound super convinced. He just grunted in response. They drove in silence for a few more moments. As they came around another bend in the ice valley, Greg finally got a good look at the listening post. It sat at the top of a peak, the road leading up at a bit of a steep grade. The way still looked clear. Would it stay that way? Greg felt his focus sliding back into place like a vault door closing. The time to act and complete another mission had again fallen upon him.

They crested the final rise and found themselves at the edge of an icy parking lot, vacant of any vehicles. The Flood had obviously been here, and even as he noted several broken windows in the structure ahead and a complete lack of any kind of perimeter fence, half a dozen Combat Forms came out from around the building. Greg hit the brakes, threw the Warthog into park, and shot to his feet in the seat. Izzy joined him and together they opened up with their battle rifles. It was a relatively easy task of sight and fire three Combat Forms apiece as the things came for them with waving tentacle clusters and weird growling sounds. They blew the chests out of the half-dozen monsters and then waited for any more to come barreling towards them.

None did. Greg let out his breath slowly and then hopped down onto the snowy asphalt.

"Let's secure the area, eliminate any hostiles, then get the parts we came here for and go home," he said as he set off towards the building.

"Tired of this place already?" Izzy asked, following.

"I'm so sick of this whole planet already," he muttered.

"Yeah, I hear you there."

They made a sweep of the perimeter, and Greg studied the building. It was a slim but tall structure, three stories with a big satellite dish atop it, very similar to the communications relays, though definitely smaller. He doubted more than four people lived here at any given time, probably less. There were no more Combat Forms or anything else hanging out around the exterior. A single back entrance was locked up tight, so they returned to the front entrance and entered carefully. At least, Greg figured as he scanned the entrance lobby, this place wouldn't take all that long to search. Ideally, anyway. He considered the situation.

"Stick together?" he asked.

"Yeah, we should," Izzy replied.

He nodded and headed towards a door in the left wall. They made their way slowly though the frozen, derelict structure. It was obvious that the Flood had been here, were almost certainly still here. He wondered if there were any places on Wintermute that hadn't been ravaged by the Flood, the strange electronic or magnetic or whatever it was storm, or both. It didn't seem likely, but one could hope. Slowly, he and Izzy cleared the first floor, moving with a sharp precision. The door led to a mess area. The windows had been broken in and a drift of snow had formed on the floor. It looked like it had melted for a little bit, and then whatever heat the base was generating had finally given out and it had frozen solid.

They swept the mess hall, found nothing, and moved on. They checked a bathroom, a lonely office, a small storage room, and a generator room. The generator, thankfully, looked intact. He and Izzy exchanged glances after locating it.

"Maybe you should get to work," he suggested.

"Didn't we just agree not to split up?" she replied.

"I know, but the sooner we get this done, the better. You can lock yourself in here and I can finish my sweep," Greg said.

Izzy stared at him, weighing the options, then finally sighed. "Fine. Just hurry back."

"I will," he promised.

She lingered for a moment, and he could tell she was annoyed, then she slipped into the room and closed the door. Still power in the doors, at least. Once he was sure she was secure, Greg set to work, heading back towards a stairwell they'd found and heading up it. As he got to the second floor and began clearing it room by room, he found thoughts infiltrating his normal stoicism. He was worried. About two things now.

His smaller and more personal worry was that Izzy was going to get pissed at him, because it felt like they were having a few more disagreements on what to do. She had said she was okay with him being in charge, but things changed, and he also didn't want to give her the impression that he expected her to just shut up and follow orders. Which might be one of the reasons he might not be exactly cut out for a command position. But that was a personal problem that could, theoretically, bleed into a bigger problem later.

The bigger problem right now was that he wasn't entirely sure he could do this. The situation with the Flood was so crazily out of hand that it was utterly daunting. Greg had been good at focusing on the task at hand, but even his most hectic firefights hadn't been this bad. This just felt different. This felt almost...apocalyptic.

The second floor was little more than bedrooms and offices, small rooms crammed with furniture. He doubted it was comfortable living here.

Greg ascended to the third and final story.

There had to be people more qualified to do this. But that was a useless thought. Of course there were, they just weren't here and as Gibson had pointed out, the people in charge thought that other things took precedent. But this was really important work. He had no idea if the Flood had been properly researched before. The first time it was happening and it was being done by a ragtag group of people who may or may not be qualified to do it.

The third story was where all the equipment and workstations were housed. It was mainly just two rooms, the 'listening' portion of the listening post he imagined. The place had the feel of abrupt abandonment, largely untouched by whatever had gone on downstairs. He checked out all the little niches and corners and alcoves and closets, didn't find anything worth salvaging or anything threatening, and hurried back down to Izzy.

Once he was at the door, Greg knocked on it.

The door slipped open. "We good?" Izzy asked as she appeared.

"Yep," he replied. "We lucked out. No more of the bastards apparently."

"Good. I'm mostly done. Just watch my ass," she said, going back over to the generator.

He glanced over as she squatted down. "Yes ma'am."

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "You're so immature."

"Yeah like you're so grown up."

She laughed. "Fair enough." She worked in silence for a few minutes, pulling things out of a few different panels, her hands careful as she extracted the technology and placed it all in a kit. Then, suddenly, she asked: "Can we have sex when we get back?"

He hesitated, looked over at her, surprised. "Um...if there's time," he managed.

"Good. One of those bedrooms looked basically untouched. After I get our generator fixed, I want to do it. I'm comfortable enough with you now and I'm, you know, horny. I guess there's really not a good reason to wait any longer if the opportunity arises."

"Yeah, definitely," he said.

She laughed softly. "I thought you'd be more excited."

"I am, don't get me wrong. You just caught me off guard."

"All right." She pulled something out and placed it in her kit, then snapped it closed and stood up. "Okay, I'm done! Let's get back to base so we can finally get warm."

"Now you're talking," he said, turning and heading out of the room.

They headed out of the tall, slim structure, back into the punishing cold. The winds were picking up, though he was hoping that's all it was. He'd had enough snowfall to last a lifetime, honestly. And God forbid they get caught in another blizzard.

"I would like to come back here at some point," Izzy said as they headed for the Carrier Warthog. "I imagine there's more tech stuff we can salvage."

"Definitely," he agreed, slipping into the driver's seat and firing the Carrier up. "The third floor was practically completely intact and there was all sorts of gear up there."

"Perfect."

He started backing up and prepared to head back down the way they'd come, eager to be finally getting back to base and staying there for a little while, especially now that it had been cleared of bodies and body parts.

That's when his helmet radio crackled to life.

A panicked voice came into his ear. "This is Lance Corporal Rydell to anyone! My team needs help! We're under attack!"