Marcus scrambled out of his emergency blanket, pulling the nose line out roughly that they used to sleep with, and shoving his helmet on. He checked the seals, pressurizing the helmet, and stood up quickly. Too quickly, he thought, as his vision blurred. As his vision returned, he walked towards the Hrungnir suit, which stood disconnected from the sled near the middle of the cave. Around him, people were being roused from their sleep quietly, and they did the same, putting on their helmets, checking their seals, and grabbing their weaponry. When Marcus arose, Brogers was already crouched behind the sled, ready to use the impeller for cover, her coilgun in hand. I really wish you wouldn't, thought Marcus, but he had no time to argue with her. He flipped a switch on the exterior of the suit, and the front opened. He hopped inside, closing the hatch behind him. He sprinted through the startup sequences, and the suit quietly hummed to life around him. The screens flickered, warmed, and then flashed to show the outside world.

Immediately, the sensors aboard the Hrungnir suit agreed with what Brogers had said: there was movement out in the sandstorm. While normally questionable in a normal day on Harmattan, these readings seemed to be consistant, and the fact that two seperate instruments reported the same movement backed up the idea that something was approaching. Marcus furrowed his brow at the reading. Whatever it is, it appeared to be one entity, and it was moving slowly. Many of the more dangerous creatures on Harmattan hunted in packs, such as natters, or yalungars. A chuma? wondered Marcus, as he turned the armored suit to face whatever was approaching, weapons warm and ready to fire. Chumas were solitary, thankfully, almost never coming in contact with one another except to reproduce.

By now, everyone was awake, including Locke, who was propped up against the wall of the cave, coilgun in hand. His bandage was soaked with blood again. For several slow, excrutiating minutes, nothing was said. They waited for whatever was approaching to appear. Eventually, after what seemed to be an eon, a figure slowly emerged from the sands. It was bipedal for sure, and Marcus hesitated. A human? he wondered.

"Hold your fire until we see who it is," said Brogers via the radio. The figure walked quickly towards the cave, until it finally emerged from the sandstorm.

"Fucking hells, Ghi?" asked Brogers aloud. The figure removed its helmet to reveal the face of Marine Lei Ghi. Marcus had never spoken to Ghi before, but he knew who he was, and had seen him around. The melee fights between Ghi and Brogers were legendary. Brogers was, according to the crew, the better hand-to-hand fighter, but Ghi was a better grappler, wrestler, and boxer. If Brogers had a knife, it was all over, but if she was disarmed, Ghi had the upper hand. Ghi was short, but absolutely ripped, and had almond-shaped eyes that seemed to always be friendly.

"Good morning, guys," Ghi said to the team, putting in his nose line to speak face-to-face, a smile on his face. "I'm glad you're all alive. We were worried about you." He stepped up to clasp Brogers' hand, and Deknost clapped him on the back with a smile.

"We had a rough time of it, but we all made it." Brogers said. Her smile withered, and she hung her head slightly. "Or, most of us made it, anyway." Ghi's smile faded, and he looked around.

"Mason didn't make it?" he asked. Brogers shook her head, and Ghi nodded in understanding. He asked nothing more of it.

"Locke was wounded by natters, and we need to get him to Thaler," said McCullagh. Ghi went over to Locke, who was still propped up against the cave wall, the coilgun in his lap.

"How are you doing, my guy?" asked Ghi, taking the wounded man's hand in a handshake. Locke nodded feebly.

"Been worse, for sure," chuckled Locke. Ghi's smile widened.

"Oh yeah, like when? Tell me about it," said Ghi. Locke coughed in response.

"Ok, maybe this is slightly worse than the last time I took a hit," he winced visibly. Ghi stood up to address the team. Marcus exited the suit. Ghi nodded in his direction, noting Marcus' status.

"Rhyne, this is the part we needed, I take it?" he asked Marcus. The young engineer nodded.

"Yes, in good condition and ready to be installed," he told Ghi. The marine turned to Brogers.

"And the intel on the Methuselah? Did you manage to get that downloaded?" he asked her. Brogers shook her head in the negative.

"No, the intel was gone. I don't know if the crew deleted it somehow, or if the computers were damaged, but the intel wasn't there when we looked." She shrugged. "That part of our mission was a complete failure. We learned nothing." Ghi nodded, clasping her shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry about that. You guys brought the part, which was, from what I know, the most important part of the mission." he told her. McCullagh, leaning against the wall, spoke up.

"We came to the meeting point on time, where were you?" The question was not without some hint of vitriol. Ghi turned to look at her.

"We were attacked," he remarked with a wry smile, "by another tank. We assume it was the one that killed the Methuselah." The cave was silent for a moment, before Deknost spoke up.

"And the Enoch? How is she?" he asked Ghi. The marine smiled.

"We took two rounds, but both richocheted because of the angle. Nobody was killed, though a few people were injured by the spalling. We dueled with the aggressor tank for about twenty minutes, swapping rounds, though past those two rounds we took, we took no more damage. Command didn't tell us how many times we hit the enemy, but we certainly didn't kill it, and it seemed like a draw to me. No way that Killigrew didn't hit the bastard at least once, though."

Marcus nodded. He remembered learning about spalling during training, when they gave everyone basic medical training. When a tank round hit armor at the wrong angle and deflected, or detonated without penetrating, the armor could still take enough damage to bend inwards. This inward buckling was rarely dangerous enough to cause serious damage to the internals of the tank, but because of the high speed of the round, and the speed of the buckling, metal fragments could break free from the armor because of the impact on the inside, and would be almost like a shotgun blast in the interior. These metal fragments, or shrapnel, could seriously injure or kill crew members, though it rarely damaged components enough to be an issue. While some of the more modern tanks had defenses built in to defend against spalling issues, older tanks like the Enoch had no such defenses, and the crewmembers that lived aboard such tanks simply had to live with the fact that spalling was a part of life.

The crew members were quieted by the news. Deknost nodded.

"Yes, we heard explosions," he said aloud, "and assumed a duel was in progress. I am glad the Enoch is alive and well." he said in his gravelly accent.

"Since we had dueled with an enemy tank in the area," said Ghi, "it was decided we would miss the rendesvous, wait twelve hours, and send a runner to retrieve the team from a safer position." He grinned broadly. "That runner is me."

"So you're going to take us back to the Enoch?" Brogers asked him. Ghi nodded.

"Apparently, we really need that part. Penske was very eager to have it. I think even Wyatt was sweating a little bit about it." He responded. Ghi gestured towards the Hrungnir suit, and the coilguns in everyone's hands. "What's up with the toys? Did you guys find those aboard the Methuselah?" he asked them.

"Yeah, we found lots of goodies aboard the Methuselah," Locke said wrly. Ghi grinned broadly.

"That is excellent! Is there more? We could probably convince Wyatt and Typhon to send another team to bring more weaponry. I don't imagine anyone would disagree; that enemy tank is probably giving us a wide berth for now." The crew was silent. Marcus spoke up.

"We can't go back, because the Methuselah was destroyed. Nuked." he told Ghi. The marine's smile faded, and he seemed shocked.

"Nuked?" he asked. He was quiet for a moment, before nodding. "Ok, this is now most certainly beyond my pay grade. Let's get you guys back to the Enoch." he said. Apparently in agreement, the team members went about preparing to depart. Marcus helped pack up the blankets and the camp stove before embarking back into the Hrungnir suit, locking it up tight behind him. Deknost and Ghi hooked him up to the sled, and Ghi whistled at the armored suit.

"I like your new toy, Rhyne. A definite improvement over Gretel. Got a name for it yet?" the marine asked him. Marcus shook his head.

"No, not yet. Been too busy focusing on not dying to pick out a name." Ghi guffawed, slapping the suit's armored leg, and walking away. His joviality is almost threatening, somehow, Marcus thought. His thoughts were interrupted by Brogers coming over the radio.

"Let's go home, guys. I've had enough of the surface for awhile," she said. Everyone mumbled their agreements, and the team set out again, this time with Ghi in the lead to guide them to the Enoch. They trudged through the sandstorm again, leaving the safety and relative comfort of the cave behind. They left no trace they were ever there, as was Typhon's popular rule for surface travel. The team said nothing as they walked, leaning into the biting winds. Back in the sandstorm, Marcus was on edge, keeping a constant eye on his instruments and sensors, but nothing came charging out of the sands like the chuma had. After thirty minutes or so of trudging, Ghi's voice crackled over the radio.

"We're about five minutes out, guys. Home stretch." he said to the team members. Sure enough, as he spoke, a massive looming shape appeared out of the sands and wind. As they approached it, Marcus realized it was another massive pillar of rock. However, unlike the last mesa they sheltered underneath, this one was much wider, and not as tall. The team walked up to the side of the mesa, where the winds weren't as bad, and began walking around it. Eventually, after a few more minutes of trudging, they rounded a corner to see the Enoch sitting pristine in a canyon. The winds were on the opposite side of the mesa here, so Marcus could see clearly. The "canyon," if it could be called that, was small, and more of a huge indentation in the side of the mesa than a true canyon. The Enoch had backed into it, so that only its front armor was visible. Any enemy tank would have a hell of a time hitting the sides of the Enoch, and Marcus was sure the angle would be too sharp anyway and cause a richochet.

The front armor on a tank was always the strongest, and in many cases, was impenetrable to an attacking enemy. Rarely, and depending on tank design, a skilled gunner could get a round between the turret and hull, but that was rare. And the other weaknesses on the front of a tank depended on the individual tank, so most gunners had intimate knowledge of enemy armor weaknesses and strengths. If a tank could, it would protect its sides and rear, and try to provide its front armor to an enemy when dueling. Marcus knew the driver of the Enoch, Pascal Modi, would do his best to keep the Enoch safe under his watch, so the Enoch being parked in such a way made sense to the young engineer. It was textbook Modi.

The team approached the tank, and a spotlight from the side of the tank covered them almost the instant they rounded the corner. Ghi waved, but everyone else lacked his enthusiasm. They trudged to the rear of the Enoch, where the cargo ramp into the hold was already lowering. They walked up the ramp, and into the hold. They stood around as the cargo ramp closed behind them, and the room pressurized with oxygen. As soon as the hold's atmosphere light turned green, the blastdoor leading from the hold to the rest of the ship burst open, and Thaler rushed in, followed by Typhon, Wyatt, Shaw, and Penske. Behind them, Atolo Killigrew, the Enoch's Chief Gunner, an older man in his 60's with a clean-shaven head, walked in, followed by his apprentice, Claire Young. Thaler went to Locke's side, and the rest of the team member stood at attention, helmets still on, at the presence of the officers.

"At ease," said Lt. Commander Shaw. Commander Wyatt stepped forward with a smile.

"Welcome back, all of you. We were worried, and rejoice at your return." He shook each of their hands in turn, though when he got to Marcus, he stood waiting, with a cocked eyebrow and a smile. Marcus, realizing what was expected of him, hurriedly disembarked the Hrungnir suit and stood at ease in front of it. Wyatt chuckled and shook the young engineer's hand. He gestured towards the gore-coated combat suit with his other hand.

"How was your first face-to-face interactions with the wildlife of Harmattan, Engineer Rhyne?" Wyatt asked him. Marcus looked into his commander's face. Wyatt had grey eyes, but they were warm, and they put Marcus somewhat at ease.

"Nothing a larger caliber can't fix, sir," he said. Wyatt chuckled.

"Good answer, Rhyne," the commander responded. He let go of Marcus' hand and addressed the rest of the team.

"It's my understanding that you lost a team member," he said. The team members were silent. Thaler had Locke on a wheeled stretcher, and he wheeled the injured marine up to Wyatt. Locke held up a fistful of dogtags in one hand, and a single lone dogtag in the other.

"Yes sir. We lost Assistant Gunner Silas Mason duration of the mission due to a chittering natter attack." A gasp from the back of the room. Young, the other assistant gunner, held up a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in shock. Beside her, Killigrew stood erect and stone-faced. Wyatt nodded, taking the lone dogtag from Locke's hand. Mason's dogtag. Shaw took the fistful of dogtags from Locke, holding them reverently. Shaw was known as a no-nonsense type of man, but he held those dogtags like they were a holy relic. Marcus understood. Commander Wyatt placed a hand on Locke's shoulder.

"You completed your mission admirably, marine. You may have saved the Enoch by retrieving the impeller we needed, and you brought your team back safely. Go and rest well; you have done your duty." he said to the wounded man. Locke's eyes became misty, and a single tear rolled down the side of his face. He turned his face to hide his tears. Marcus felt a knot in his throat. Not all of us made it back safely, he thought, feeling that Locke mirrored the sentiment. Thaler wheeled Locke away, likely to stitch the wounded marine up. Marcus was relieved that Locke survived long enough to recieve medical attention. Thaler was a blunt individual, but he was damned good at his job. Commander Wyatt turned back to the rest of the crew.

"Does anyone have injuries that require immediate medical attention?" The team members were silent. Wyatt nodded. "Good," he said, walking down the line of team members. "Now tell me about the nuke." The team was silent. Bootsman Yukon walked into the hold, nodding to Deknost, and stood beside Shaw, his arms crossed. Wyatt stood with his back turned to the team.

"Come on now, speak up. A nuclear weapon hasn't detonated on the surface of Harmattan in generations, and somehow, one was detonated aboard the Methuselah just as you all entered the safe zone, just outside of the blast radius. So speak up." The commander turned back around to look every team member in the eye. None of them said anything. Wyatt turned to Deknost.

"Workman Ginovsky, were you able to retrieve the intelligence located aboard the Methuselah pertaining to her demise?" the commander asked the big man. Deknost shook his head.

"No sir. The intel was gone when we looked. Either the computers were damaged, or it was deleted somehow." he told the commander. Wyatt narrowed his eyes at the big man.

"How convenient," he said, turning to look at Brogers.

"Marine Brogers, you returned with Exodine Helios-3 Coilguns, weapons only afforded to the most experienced and venerable of the EMC's forces. Can you explain what they were doing aboard the Methuselah?" Brogers stood at attention at the question.

"No sir, I cannot." she said, looking straight ahead with her arms clasped tightly to her side. Wyatt nodded slowly. He turned and walked towards Marcus, who swallowed and adapted Brogers' stance.

"Engineer Rhyne, you returned with a Norn Hrungnir-37 Combat Exosuit, a very valuable find. They're amazing machines, truly. However, much like the coilguns, they're reserved for the best of the best. The Methuselah was a venerated combat machine with a long history of successful sorties into enemy territory. Her crew, likewise, were well-decorated, and I knew her commander well. However, the Methuselah was not the sort of tank you'd find Hrungnir suits in. Ringlefinch, maybe. Jotunn, even more likely. But Hrungnir? Not so likely." Wyatt's face was stone-cold, and his once-warm eyes seemed to pierce Marcus.

"So, Engineer Rhyne, can you explain what a combat suit of this variety was doing on the Methuselah?" Wyatt asked him. Marcus swallowed, before shaking his head.

"No sir, I cannot." Marcus looked up into Wyatt's face. The commander slowly nodded, before turning back to the team members.

"So let me get this straight, just so we're all clear," Wyatt said as he strode down the line. "We have coilguns, we have missing intelligence that for all intents and reasons should have been present, we have a rare and powerful combat suit that, much like the coilguns, is only given out to spec ops teams, and finally, we have a nuclear detonation. Which, by the way, the Secretary of Defense has been asking me about. So, please, if anyone can explain this to me, I'm all ears." Once more, the crew was silent. They stood in silence for what seemed like a lifetime, as Wyatt drilled each of them with his steely gaze. After a time, he nodded slowly again.

"Lt. Commander Shaw, Bootsman Yukon, Captain Typhon, please escort these team members to the brig until we get to the bottom of this. Restrain Marine Locke as well, once he's out of surgery." The team members stood in shock at the command. Yukon, Shaw, and Typhon stepped forward with cuffs in hand to do as they were commanded, before a voice stopped them.

"I set off the nuke," said the voice. Every head turned to see Marine Kee McCullagh staring straight ahead. Wyatt walked up to her.

"Marine?" he asked, "would you like the opportunity to explain yourself in front of your peers." McCullagh breathed deeply, her face pale.

"I set the timer on the nuclear device to detonate once we were far enough away from the wreckage of the Methuselah," she said. "We would have gotten further away if not for the chuma delaying us." Wyatt nodded.

"Why did you set off the nuke? What was the Methuselah doing with this equipment? Why did it have a nuke?" he asked her. McCullagh stood silently for a time.

"I did it to save lives," she said quietly. Wyatt blinked.

"Whose lives?" he asked her.

"Everyone's lives," she said looking up at him. "Everyone's lives that go looking for dangerous answers. Including yours and everyone's aboard the Enoch, and anyone that comes after." Wyatt nodded.

"Bootsman Yukon, Captain Typhon, please escort Marine McCullagh to the brig, please. We'll interrogate her further later." he said, and Yukon and Typhon cuffed the marine, taking her away. McCullagh kept her head high, and didn't look back at the team members. Marcus was gobsmacked at the turn of events. Wyatt stood with his arms behind his back. Shaw stepped forwards.

"The rest of you are dismissed, for now. We'll hold a more detailed debriefing later, but for now, you're free to eat the hot food you deserve and rest up. We'll call on you when needed." he said to the team members. Deknost and Brogers walked off towards the rest of the tank. Marcus saw that Brogers' face was bright red, and she looked angry. Deknost, on the other hand, looked nonchalant at the proceedings. The young engineer was just about to join them in leaving the hold when a hand grabbed his arm. He looked to see Penske smiling at him.

"Good to see you made it back in one piece, Marcus," she said, "but you can't rest quite yet. We have a tank to fix."