Halo: Lost Brothers is the first novel in the Tau Squad saga. After numerous setbacks from the initial release date of February 22, 2012, the novel began releasing chapters in late July of 2014. Summary[]Dramatis Personae[]Prologue[]
Roy Koel surveyed the multitude of information surrounding him, the table in front of him covered in datapads, notepads, maps and all kinds of other ways he could learn about the situation at hand. His contact both within and without ONI had done well and provided him with more information that he could have imagined, more than he knew what to do with. The situation was dire. Dragon Squadron was on the move, preparing for their push into action, just as Jim had told him they would. The questions were numerous, but more important than any were two: where would they target, and how would they do so? The former worried Roy the most, as for all his information, and all the understanding he had of Dragon Squadron and their allies, he had no idea where the hammer would fall. Brandon had left earlier, after coming by to check on Roy’s progress and health. It had been two days now, so their wounds were healing, but that didn’t mean Roy was fully operational just yet. Even now, his ribs throbbed and the fingers on his left hand felt slightly numb. Brandon had clutched his shoulder once, but he was young and capable of ignoring the pain better than Roy who, despite his discipline and training, was unquestionably getting old. Roy cursed under his breath, slamming his fist into the table as he did. A dozen reports blew off, and a pencil snapped, a third falling into a nearby cup of lukewarm coffee. “Blast it Jim, where are you?” I will enact the REDIGER Contingency within seventy-two hours, he had said. And you know what will happen then. Think about it, Roy: would it really be so bad to be rid of these back-stabbing liars and their murdering allies? To help bring about a new era? Come on, Roy; you can’t tell me you’ve never dreamed about it. I – Roy forcibly blocked out Jim’s last words. He couldn’t bear to remember them and the haughty irony they held in them. He didn’t have the luxury of recalling the past: it would only weigh him down. His intercom toned. Roy pressed the button, and the small holographic screen sprang to life. It was Justin. “Sir, Delta Team has arrived per the transfer orders. They’ll be going with us as soon as we deploy.” “Understood,” Roy replied, “Thank you.” With that, he ended the link. As nice as it was to know there would be more back-up this time, Roy had bigger things to worry about. Within approximately twenty-four hours, REDIGER would begin unless they could stop it. Roy said a silent prayer to God, hoping He would hear him. As he prayed, his mind drifted back to Albert and Arnold, and he smiled. Maybe if God wouldn’t help him, they would. Roy opened his eyes and looked over his notes again, but paused as he noticed several of the notes shift of their own accord. Pretending to continue, he watched the papers from the corner of his eye, and noticed them move slightly, as if blown by the wind. Spinning, Roy threw out his fist, and caught his would-be attacked full in the arm, knocking the M6C Magnum from his hands and sending it sliding across the floor. The attacker recovered quickly, blocking Roy’s next strike and then gut-punching him as he extricated himself and slipped towards the gun. Roy leaped to his feet once more and tackled the assassin, but as he toppled to the ground, the man managed to turn, causing them to land off balance. In a brief span, the attacker spun around, breaking one of Roy’s arms as he planted himself on top of Roy. Pinning the older soldier down and keeping his good arm trapped, the attacker grabbed his pistol and aimed it at Roy’s head. “Goodbye, Koel,” said the man, “Martin and Jacques would want you to know they’ll enjoy seeing you in Hell.” Then he pulled the trigger. Chapter One[]
The engines of the Pelican roared loudly in Brandon’s ears as the craft barreled through the clouded lower atmosphere of Archa Nine. Although he could not see it, Brandon knew the landscape below was mostly barren, rocky plains broken only by mountains and several fertile river valleys. A backwards world, few even remembered Archa Nine existed, and that was exactly what the Sons of Perdition wanted. A rebel group formed approximately eight years prior, the Sons of Perdition had been fairly low-key until two years ago, when they had begun to reach into the criminal underworlds of the nearby systems and try to gain an influence. An agent had been dispatched from Naval Intelligence to gather the situation’s severity, but had been killed in the process; a second agent discovered mobilization of troops from Archa Nine with the intent to begin rebellion on the nearby planet of Tiber. Now, Brandon and the other members of Tau Squad , alongside other members of the 53rd Battalion’s Ninth Division, were preparing for a covert insertion to end the potential conflict before it started. Brandon quickly locked his BR85’s cartridge in place and checked the scope, looking over the entire gun once again to make sure that it was in top condition. The process was so ritualistic to Brandon at this point that even when Whitmore started talking, he continued without a flinch. "Listen up," the Lieutenant shouted, turning toward the interior as he did, "We’re going in fast and silent. In two minutes we’re gonna drop in behind their base and knock out their vital systems. The target is Charles VanKeerk; intel states he’s in charge of this operation." Cartridges clicked into place. Silencers were spun onto the ends of guns. "This is a covert op; we don’t go loud unless we have to, which is on my order and mine only. Remember Marines, we need VanKeerk alive. Understood?" "Roger!" yelled all the Marines. All save one. "Sgt. Smith?" Whitmore stared at the Marine accusingly. Brandon lowered his gun and looked his CO in the eyes. "Roger... sir." Whitmore turned around and moved for the edge of the troop pay as the Pelican swerved downward, lurching all the Marines to the side. The trees approached quickly, and the Pelican touched down in the mountain clearing, dropping the rear bay door instantly. "Alright, move!" With that, the entire group broke from the Pelican, dividing up into their smaller six-man teams. Placing the BR85 on his back and grabbing his MA5D Assault Rifle, Brandon moved to catch his own team, falling in behind Master Sergeant Jacen Nix, Tau Squad’s executive officer. Upon sighting each other, they nodded, then continued on. They moved quickly and with complete silence; no radio updates, no chatter. The only signs that their other comrades were still alive were the periodic location updates from their helmet HUDs. Marching south, the team ascended the mountains, preparing to flank the rebel base and infiltrate their coms array. However, after fifteen minutes of hiking into position, Brandon’s team met with an obstacle. Topping another crest, the six men slowed to a stop as the valley path before them was blocked by a massive rockslide. Checking the situation, it was quickly realized that going around would either place them within enemy surveillance to one side, or take too long on the other, while the rockslide itself was too unstable to try and climb. Cautiously, Brandon opened the team’s local, secure com channel. "What now?… sir" Jacen turned to look at Brandon. "We climb," he said simply. Pointing at another team member, "Schindler" as they called him, he said, “Climbing equipment, now.” Schindler tossed down the rucksack he had been carrying, and from it pulled several pieces of equipment, including harnesses, ropes, pitons and other climbing equipment. "Suit up," said Jacen, pulling on a harness as he spoke. Brandon and the others did as they were ordered, and as they did, Jacen approached the cliff. Never give an order you wouldn’t carry out yourself, Jacen had said before. The sentence rang through Brandon’s mind as he watched Jacen start climbing, heading for the top to secure the ropes that would be needed for the team to climb in timely fashion. Brandon knew there were few things that Jacen had liked about his former drill instructor, but the man’s teachings had left a deep impression regardless. Within ten minutes, the entire team had scaled the cliff, leaving their equipment in place in case the need to rappel back down arose. Crossing the plateau under the cover of the trees, Jacen motioned for the team to lay down and approach slowly as they neared the edge. Crawling carefully as far forward as they could without betraying their position, Jacen grabbed a small pair of binoculars at began to examine the situation. Jacen zoomed in further, eyeing the defenses: several gun emplacements guarded the entrance, while a pair of anti-air cannons watched the skies. The moderate sized compound had only two visible entrances, though another was present on the far side of the mountain it was set next to – a secondary entrance to the warehouse built into the mountain. Inspecting the situation, Jacen noted that the patrolling soldiers, while almost triple Tau Squad’s number, were armed with outdated weapons, and an Insurrection-era Warthog was the only vehicle to be seen. Jacen motioned for the squad to begin moving down the hill into position, then opened a com channel to Zeta Squad. "Zeta, what’s your status, over?" Silence for a moment. "This is Zeta, over. Charges set. Clear to detonate?" "Clear" "Detonation in five… four… three… two… one…" A low rumble emanated from the left side of the compound and several electric wires exploded in sparks, a radio dish groaning as it shifted sideways somewhat. Numerous soldiers began to run to investigate, and as they did, Zeta’s commander gave the signal. "All teams, this is Zeta. Enemy coms are down." As soon as the signal was given, Brandon and his two compatriots, Barney and Collins, opened fire with their silenced rifles, dropping the confused insurrectionists left and right. For some, the death was quick, while others tried to flee or fight back against their unseen foes, firing randomly into the foliage, but these attempts only led to more wounds as the trio could not kill them as accurately. Soon, muffled sniper fire rang out as Jacen and his remaining soldiers began to provide support fire as Zeta, Echo and Tau squads moved into the compound, slowly eliminating all of the guard. Entering the supply yard, the squads maneuvered carefully through the stacked crates and piping, sweeping around to the small cargo entrance. Brandon remained alert, even as the only targets he noted were already bloodied corpses. As they reached the cargo door, Brandon positioned himself between Collins and the rest of the area. Collins pulled out his blowtorch, rapidly slicing through the steel door’s locking mechanisms and gaining entry within seconds. "All clear," Brandon radioed in. Still eyeing the area warily, he was relieved when Jacen, Schindler and Rawlins arrived from their post, with Echo and Zeta Squads not far behind. The same as Tau Squad, all members stood by unharmed, save one member of Echo whose shoulder sported a single bullet graze. "Alright men." Everyone came to attention as Jacen spoke. "Let’s get moving." The descent was slow, with each corner rounded and each room entered thoroughly checked, but without a soul in sight. Breaking into squads again within from a large storeroom, Brandon moved down a side hallway with Tau Squad as they continued their search for VanKeerk or anything he might have left behind. Pulling up against a corner with his gun at the ready, Brandon quickly and accurately spun to face yet another empty hallway. Feeling something akin to disappointment, Brandon pushed it out of his mind as Jacen motioned for the team to move up, noting the door at the end of the hallway. Lining up in breach formation, the team broke down the door and trained their weapons for potential threats, only to find none yet again. The room, however, was not a total loss. "Lieutenant," said Jacen, opening a secure COM channel, "Still no sign of VanKeerk. However, we found the surveillance room – proceeding to secure any data." "Understood. Keep me posted," came the response, followed by silence. With that, Jacen gave the signal, and Rawlins, Schindler and Collins began to examine all of the computers, cabinets and equipment scattered throughout the small room while the remaining trio stood guard at the door. However, after several minutes, Rawlings spoke up. "Nothing left, sir," he reported, "Innies fried the computers and burned or otherwise screwed all the important paperwork. Looks like they were anticipating this." Jacen was silent a few moments. "I don’t like this. Rawlins, Schindler, pack up anything that looks vaguely important and meet us in the storeroom in five. Smith, Barney, Collins, you’re with me." Moving back through the hallways at a much faster speed, the four Marines kept their rifles trained ahead. "Whitmore, we have a situation, over," tried Jacen, but received only static from the COM. "Whitmore, do you copy, over?" Jacen repeatedly tried to regain contact with Whitmore, only to find his communications completely jammed. Cursing himself, Jacen drove them on faster, but as they entered the storeroom, they were not at all prepared for what they saw. As they neared the doorway, an explosion sounded, tossing a screaming Marine back into the wall not five yards from them. Gunfire rang out loudly, but was accompanied by an odd cracking boom not made by any gun. Entering the room with expert care, the marines were shocked at what they saw. In the center of the room, swinging wildly at the marines that were attempting to retreat to safety, was a mechanical suit of power armor, slightly larger than a man but still notably smaller than a standard Cyclops unit. Armed with a large jackhammer on one arm, the armored assailant swung again, skewering a helpless Marine who wasn’t fast enough to escape. Tossing the corpse at another Marine struggling with his jammed rifle, the warrior stalked forward, straight to the Lieutenant and his squad. Worse yet, Echo Squad was cut off on the far side of the storeroom by a group of Insurrectionists, well-fortified with a higher-ground advantage. "Ambush," said Brandon, gritting his teeth. "This whole damn thing was a set-up." Thinking fast, Jacen concocted a plan to try and deal with this unexpected threat. "Smith, Rawlins, Barney, head left, aim for the fuel lines. Collins, you’re on me." Swiftly, Jacen rolled behind a large pile of crates alongside Collins, trying to avoid the mech suit’s attention momentarily. As the three other team members moved opposite them, the assailant noticed them, swinging around and reaching for a nearby forklift to toss at the trio. "Collins, now!" barked Jacen, reaching to prime a grenade. Collins opened fire with his rifle at the mech’s joints, distracting the soldier just long enough for Jacen to toss the grenade. The figure attempted to jump out of the way, but the mech’s weight prevented any sudden moves. With a flash of light and sound, the grenade exploded, damaging a large part of the mech’s suit. "Smith, Rawlins, open fire!" Jacen yelled over the COM. Pulling himself up over their cover and taking aim, Brandon zeroed in on the fuel lines and released several controlled bursts alongside Collins. Metal shredded through the lines and the mech began to shudder and react widely as its controls went haywire. As the pilot tried and failed to control his armor, Brandon averted his eyes as the machine ceased to respond to the pilot’s controls, flaying wildly and tearing at the pilot’s limbs. Brandon only rested a moment, however, as more gunfire sounded from the side. Looking up, Brandon noticed a handful of non-UNSC soldiers fleeing with the remaining Marines in pursuit. Brandon motioned for Collins and moved to aid them, only to hear Jacen speak up. "Tau Squad, stay here. The rest of Zeta and Echo, track down those rebels; take them alive if at all possible! Collins, Rawlins, look after the wounded. Smith, lend me a hand." As the rest moved to fulfill their assigned tasks, Brandon walked towards the mech suit, where Jacen was now standing. A part of him wanted to stop, as the smell and the sight of the poor soul that had piloted the thing was almost too much, but Brandon put away thoughts of his churning stomach and helped Jacen pull him out of the suit. Despite the soldier’s extreme state of shock from all the pain and blood loss, he screamed in pain as they moved him out of the suit. Brandon was quick to start patching up his wounds with his Biofoam canister, but Jacen stopped him before he could finish. "I’m going to ask you some questions," said Jacen, "And until you answer them, I’m not letting him finish that patch job. You’ve already lost an arm and your legs are fractured, so don’t get any funny ideas: you’re at our mercy. Now, who do you work for?" The soldier merely moaned in response. Jacen was quick to punch him in the face. "I said, ‘who do you work for?’" "Charles VanKeerk," replied the rebel. "Alright then, where is he?" "I don’t know." Jacen punched him in the face once again. "I said I don’t know!" the rebel pleaded, wincing in pain. "He was here four days ago. Dropped off the exoskeleton, said there was supposed to be an attack on the facility in a few days and told us to get ready. Then he just left; don’t know where to." "Why?" Jacen demanded, "Why would VanKeerk leave good equipment in a facility he knew was going to be attacked?" "My legs..." the soldier moaned, "Dear God, my legs... Please, I need help..." Brandon looked at the man and then to Jacen, his Biofoam canister still clipped to his belt. "Sir, maybe if he keep him alive and take him somewhere, an interrogator could…" Jacen turned and in one swift movement snapped the pilot’s neck, leaving Brandon aghast. "I am an interrogator, son,” the officer replied, “and we weren’t going to get anything else out of him." Brandon stood there, stock still, trying to take in what he had just witnessed. His executive officer had just killed their prisoner in cold blood in lieu of taking him in for further interrogation, then stated that it was his own vocation, a fact that Brandon had never heard of during his time with the 53rd. Curiosity was now burning within him and he had to know… "Sir!" Schindler called as he walked in, cutting off Brandon’s chance for questions, "Sir, I think I’ve found something interesting." The duo walked over to where the tech specialist had sat down, pouring through data files on his laptop. "These are the files we took from the mainframe here. There wasn’t much left; most of it had been purged by the rebels ahead of time. However, this escaped their notice." Schindler pulled up a file containing innumerable lines of text and dates. "It’s a shipping and receiving log, sir," he said, "And it looks like we might have a lead on where they got the exoskeleton from." Highlighting a single line of text, Brandon noted that it mentioned a "Mk3 Exo," timestamped for four days prior and listing the place of origin "Barcelona, RA, FJ?" asked Brandon, "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means we’ve got a new nest to shake," replied Jacen, "Once we wrap things up here and check what the other rebels know, we’re shipping off. Echo and Zeta will head back and recover while all of us in Tau trace this lead." "Hold up, sir," said Brandon, raising his hands defensively, "Isn’t that Lieutenant Whitmore’s call?" "Smith, in case you haven’t noticed, Whitmore is down, and as XO that leaves me in his place. This is too big a lead to not follow, so I’ll kindly ask you to do as I say or I’ll have you booted out of this squad and back into whatever Hell hole you came out of. Are we clear, soldier?" Brandon nodded a stiff affirmative. "Alright then. All troops, gather your gear and get back to the ship. Scavenge any good supplies if you can, don’t overwork the wounded." As Jacen began to walk away, Brandon called out to him. "Sarge, where are we headed." "All black-markets lead back to one place: the galaxy’s whorehouse, Fell Justice." Chapter Two[]
“Here,” Jacen said, pointing at the holo-map on display. “This is the Sublime Grace’s Module-37 Space Port, or Port Gisborne as the locals call it. It’s the furthest dock out, so we’ll park the prowler at a UNSC-affiliated port there and then discreetly make our way down to the planet. No need to draw more attention to ourselves than we have to.” “Expecting trouble, Top?” asked Barney. “VanKeerk knew that the Archa Nine base was about to get hit,” explained Jacen. “I’d expect he could pick up wind of our recon tomorrow; if nothing else, the underworld on Fell Justice could tip him off if we’re not careful. “Regardless, once we’re planetside we need to spread out and begin acquiring intel as quickly and discreetly as possible. We don’t need to make any more noise than we have to.” “Do we have any kind of leads to work off of?” Rawlins asked. “Nothing in particular. The manifests list shipments back to Barcelona, RA; Gibraltar, CA; and Leone, SASH, but no details on any individuals involved. We’ll break into teams of two and investigate separate cities, see what we can dig up. Make sure you have everything you’ll need, but pack light; I’ll see you all in the air lock in half an hour. Dismissed.” The soldiers began to file out of the meeting room, Schindler remaining behind with Jacen to start plans for their joint search of Leone. While Collins and Barney moved towards the armory to check their gear, Brandon caught up with Rawlins. “Does it bother you at all?” Brandon asked. Rawlins was visibly confused. He mulled the question over for a few seconds, then replied, “What do you mean by that?” “Jacen’s actions lately,” Brandon answered. He continued, “I keep trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but I can’t make anything out. Plus… I don’t know, the way he murdered that soldier on Archa Nine…” “Don’t tell me your starting to get some sympathies for the Innies now, Brandon?” “No, it’s just… it doesn’t sit well. The man was injured and wouldn’t have been able to fight back, not after what that suit did to him: so why did Jacen beat him up even more? Better yet, how did he get away with killing him? I know it’s a combat op, but killing a POW? That breaks all kinds of regulations, even for an officer like him.” “Guess the brass just glances over details sometimes,” replied Rawlins. “After all, only a handful of you saw it happen, and what are the chances of anyone asking where Jacen got his intel from?” “But how –” “Look, Brandon, calm it down, alright? The man was a damn Innie that help kill a dozen of our guys and Jacen ringed him for all the information he could. He’s been at this: he knows what he’s doing. You just gotta have a little faith in your squadmates sometimes, ya know?” Brandon remained silent as the duo walked into the ship’s quarters, as if mulling over what Rawlins had said. However, when he spoke, his words came out short and almost labored. “Faith is something I ran out of a long time ago,” he stated simply, then broke off to deal with detailing his personal gear. Rawlins stood by momentarily, watching Brandon walked with drawn lips, then walked to his own section of the room with a slight shake of the head. He liked Brandon, more than a lot of the soldiers he had served alongside, but he couldn’t help but think that the boy might not have been the best choice for this operation. Rawlins had read Brandon’s file and couldn’t deny that he saw a lot of good points for a soldier: determined, tactically minded, skilled in close-quarters combat and well trained with rifles and the UNSC’s newer technology. All of these gave Brandon a boost over other soldiers that had served in the unit that usually exhibited sluggish thinking or lack of proficiency in other areas. But that attitude, thought Rawlins, I don’t think that boy knows how to trust his own mother. Although initially it hadn’t been an issue, Rawlins was noting more often just how reckless and distrusting Brandon was of the rest of Tau. It wasn’t just his questioning of Jacen either: Rawlins had seen Brandon second guess a dozen other decisions by various members of the squad, even to the point of nearly starting a fist fight with Collins. And that whole Innie thing… why does it bother him that much? Rawlins wondered. Surely the boy doesn’t sympathize with them, does he? They bomb and kill our people all the time – what does it matter if we shoot one when he can’t shoot back? Serves the damn bastard right. It took a moment before Rawlins realized that he had accidentally broken his gun’s sight. He muttered a curse under his breath and walked to a nearby drawer for a replacement, chiding himself for getting lost in his thoughts. Still, Rawlins never denied that he didn’t have a temper, and Innies did nothing but make his blood boil. Having grown up on Terceira, Rawlins experienced Insurrectionist raids all the time as a child. Nothing was sacred to them, thought Rawlins, Not property, not a person’s dignity, and not their life either. It’s all nothing to them – all about what they want, what they can get. And I’ll be damned if I let another one – Rawlins looked up as Collins and Barney walked into the room to grab their own things. Collins remained fairly silent, while Barney chattered away, per the norm. “I’m telling ya, we’ve got to visit Papua. The girls are killer, man. I don’t think even you turn one down.” Collins grunted in response but remained mostly silent, grabbing his rucksack and walking towards the door. He caught Rawlins eye as he did, signaling him to move to the docking port and get ready to depart. Rawlins nodded in turn, then picked up his gear and called for Brandon to follow. As they walked together, silence pervaded, with even Barney being dampened slightly. The mission was about to begin and each had begun to mentally prepare themselves for it. Even a single misstep could tip off their target and lead to a small disaster. When the doors to the docking chamber slid open, Brandon noticed Jacen and Schindler waiting for them, but was instead drawn to look out the nearby window. The suns were rising over Fell Justice in the distance as the rings of Azure Misery, Fell Justice’s sister planet, glittered in the light the suns cast. On the planet below, several super cells spread across the oceans while the lights of cities covered the night side of the world. “Gentlemen,” said Jacen, bringing the team to attention. “You all know the drill: go in, find out who was supplying the Archa Nine rebels and don’t tip them off. Rendezvous with the rest of us if you discover anything. Good luck.” The ship shuddered, coming to a stop as its umbilical corridor attached to the orbital spaceport. The doors slid open with a squeal and the six stepped out, assaulted by lights and sounds unlike those anywhere else. “Welcome to Fell Justice, boys,” said Collins, “Don’t lose your way.”
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