Ninki Nanka. A creature of dread, a harbinger of misfortune and death. A mythical beast rumored to lurk in the depths of these unforgiving jungles. They spoke of its serpentine form, scales as dark as the night itself, and eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light. Creatures that lurked in the shadows, hunting at the dead of night.

 

A legend known to all the Congolese people. And yet, no one saw them until they were mere feet away. Silently, creatures clad in dark scales slithered into the camp, moving quietly and swiftly from one area to the next. Their eyes wide as they watched the beast lurk just next to their cages, only to strangle one of their captors. Its fang raised high before burying it deep into the man’s flesh, then dragging him out of sight.

 

Chief Kasongo Nyembo could do nothing but watch. Imprisoned, enslaved amongst his people, all he could do was stand his ground in horror. He had never imagined meeting his demise within a slave’s cage. The warrior had nothing to protect himself with, but showing fear before death itself would be a disgrace to his people.

 

The beast quietly turned and hissed at them. The other tribesmen in his cage were not so quiet, however. He could not blame them, as most backed away, cramming themselves into the corner of the cage. Others even began screaming in fear as the creature hissed, marking them for death.

 

Red flicked his M1 Combat Knife to get rid of the blood, moving back to his position only to find the caged slaves next to him panicking, scrambling away from him. He tried to shush them down, but instead, the trapped individuals began screaming loudly in fear. Guards farther within the camp soon became alerted to their presence, raising their single-shot Remington Rolling Block rifles as they scanned their surroundings.

 

He pulled out his battle rifle and aimed at the man, his visor providing aim assistance, pointing out the guard’s center of mass. “Drop your weapon and stand down!” his voice boomed, amplified by the helmet’s built-in speakers. In response, the guard turned in his direction and panicked, sending an 11mm round onto Red’s shoulder plate. However, due to the lack of armor-piercing properties, the ODST armor easily shrugged off the shot.

 

A firefight soon broke out. Or at least, that's how their opponents assumed it would go. The ODSTs quickly dispatched all the armed guards and captured those who were caught unprepared in their barracks. The other buildings were also raided, and in mere minutes, the whole camp was liberated.

 

Red returned to the cage he disturbed, causing them to lose their element of surprise. Chief Kasongo was not idle when the commotion broke out; he ordered his tribesmen to break the cage open and use the opportunity to escape. But the creatures’ violence ended their captors in the blink of an eye, and now one of them stood before them. The creature drew out a dagger, causing his warriors to stop trying to open the door and step away from it. The ODST jammed his combat knife into the gap. The high carbon steel blade easily broke through the locking mechanism in a single push.

 

With the gate now fully open, the beast invited them to come closer. Panic began to spread amongst the trapped slaves. Red didn't know what to do. He beckoned them to come forth, to exit their cage, but they refused. Pondering what to do next, he noticed the lone man who held his ground, staring at his knife. Red quickly stowed it away into its sheath, thinking that might be the reason for their hesitation.

 

Perhaps they weren’t escaping because they were afraid of him? Not wanting to place their lives in the hands of a stranger and leaving the confines of their cage without anything to protect themselves was suicide. Realizing this, Red pulled off the magnetically held holster from his chest before offering his combat knife to Chief Nyembo. Nodding at him before turning around and leaving them be.

 

_____________________________________________________________

Vega couldn't believe that he actually yearned to meet the Covenant again. By every metric, the enemy was much easier to understand, strategize against, and deal with than whatever these people were trying to preach. Colonel Nicholas sat quietly while the rest of the senior staff argued, wanting to leave the conference room already. He had been awake for more than 24 hours now, and he could really use some sleep. Last night, there was an explosion. Every marine in the base was placed on high alert, anti-aircraft batteries, searchlights, all of it, manned and ready to fend off an attack. But nothing came.

 

He then thought maybe it was mutiny or sabotage and hastily assembled a company of marines to retake the ship before the Captain himself countermanded the order, reporting the accident. Still, that didn’t explain why he was sitting here, listening to them ramble about wormholes, alternate realities, and time travel. Bored, he stared at his drink before him, its condensation dripping to one side. The ship was still misaligned, and the power grid was still not stable enough to turn on the artificial gravity drives.

 

“Apollo, are you sure these readings are accurate? I mean, the ship is tilted; perhaps the angle is wrong.”

 

A bit offended by this, of course. AIs were naturally prideful of their work, as that was one of the few things they truly excelled at. “These measurements were taken long before the ship’s landing gear failed. Besides, that doesn’t change the fact that the moon does not have the infrastructure that it once had; no visual markings that it was glassed, no debris of any kind. Even the space junk created through humanity’s six-hundred-year-long space exploration was nowhere to be seen.”

 

“So this is not Earth?”

 

“The likelihood of finding a life-sustaining planet that has the near-exact replica of the constellations surrounding it, as well as other celestial bodies, is impossible.”

 

“But the calculations are wrong, right? By half a degree, you said. Maybe we are exaggerating this, maybe it's just a malfunction or something.”

 

“I may have agreed with you, but I have run diagnostic tests on the ship’s sensors a thousand times, and it's not just one star but all of them. So… this may be Earth.”

 

“How much longer until we get satellite uplink?”

 

"Sir, they should reach Low Earth Orbit in a few more minutes. However, we're facing a gap in our surveillance due to insufficient satellite deployment."

 

Irons pondered if he should risk launching more rockets. Though it was unlikely another missile pod would be destroyed, he couldn’t help but think it was too risky. “Lieutenant Elara, Your ship, is she up and running?”

 

The ONI officer was taken by surprise; she was quite distracted by the implications of the current predicament they were in. “Sir? I mean, Yes Sir. The Eclipse Runner has been restored to full working order.”

 

“Good. I want you to take as many satellites as your ship can carry and manually launch them into the atmosphere. After that, I want you to check on Mars. Bring several marines with you to help in the search if need be.” The Red Planet was a tad too far for their cameras to properly check, so a recon mission was required. Turning his attention to Colonel Vega next.

 

“Colonel. Until we sort this thing out, I need every man and woman of this base to remain in it. If you have any teams out there, place a recall order.”

 

_____________________________________________________________

Like children who had just found a new toy, ODSTs were all over the weapons their opponents were using. It took several minutes, but Patterson eventually figured it out. The weapons were quite peculiar to them. These firearms were made out of wood and metal, some even had corrosion and rust problems, unlike UNSC firearms that were properly coated to prevent contact welding. Sergeant Ramirez theorized that they were museum replicas of some sort.

 

Soon, even the locals became curious about them. At first, the Helljumpers were a bit skeptical about allowing civilians to take up arms, but in the end, the two sides ended up competing to see who could use these foreign weapons the best. They shot at some targets while the ODSTs waited for the other teams to arrive. With the recall order in place, Major Rodriguez commanded all teams to converge into their sector, saving the Pelicans some fuel.

 

Most of the captured locals had already run away. Lieutenant Harris let them be, of course; no one could blame them, really. Who’s left were those who’re too weak to move, wounded, or sick were left behind, alongside a small number of able-bodied men.

 

“Hey Red,” called out Zack through his in-helmet radio, “That guy is still staring at you.”

 

Red turned towards the group of civilians still practicing with the rolling block rifles they had looted from the camp's armory. The leader kept glancing in his direction. “Look, man, as long as he isn’t shooting me, it's all good.” They were probably still hesitant to trust them, but now armed, they should at least feel some semblance of security.

 

Though all seemed well and good, one of the captured enemies was a bit of a problem.. 

 

He could not hide his disdain as they were rounded up and tied together, with the very chains that they used to move the slaves, no less. The indignity. ‘Force Publique’ - what a joke, they couldn’t even do their job right. He knew placing them on guard duty was a mistake. After he was awoken by the first shot, he didn’t even have the chance to put on some trousers before the savages were already defeated. Placing firearms in the hands of these creatures was clearly a mistake. He thought.

 

He tried to get some rest but soon woke up when the bastards began wasting their ammunition. Those rounds were worth more than these people, and this infuriated him even more. Most of the slaves seemed to be missing, probably running back to wherever shithole they called home. They’d get captured again soon anyway, so it didn’t really matter, he thought. At least the sun had begun to rise, and it was finally bright enough to get a glimpse of their captors.

 

They captured them alive; surely this meant they were going to ransom them… Or him. Smirking at the poor devils tied next to him, not even worth a continental. Do they even speak? All they did was nod, bob their heads about, point, use hand signals as if they were talking telepathically to one another. Not knowing who they were, he began to speak every language he knew - French? Spanish? Even the tongue of the locals - but not one heeded his calls. Either none of them understood him, or they were ignoring him.

 

Annoyed, he kept trying to work his way out of his chains, jangling them about, hoping the shackles would give way. The other prisoners stared at him, the defeated look in their eyes annoyed him greatly. "You ungrateful filth! I have given you all the opportunity to rise above your circumstances, and this incompetence is how you repay me?! Once I am freed from here, I will personally whip each of you until your backs run red with blood!"

 

“Hey!” Mitch overheard the commotion and began to speak audibly. ODSTs typically operated in silence, maximizing stealth by using radio communication and hand signals. So, hearing one of them actually speak caused quite a stir, with everyone turning their attention to Mitchell.

 

“Ah! English! Finally! Someone who actually speaks a civilized language! My good sir, please! If you’d be so inclined as to at the very least separate me from these beasts, I’ll make sure my employers pay my ransom handsomely.”

 

“What?” Mitch couldn’t believe what he was hearing and began to approach.

 

“If I may, I am Frederick Russel Burnham, an American mercenary employed by the Belgian crown, by King Leopold II himself, so these…” showing the chains on his wrists. ”Barbarism is no longer required. Let’s discuss my ransom like gentlemen, although I doubt you’ll get any coin for these animals.”

 

Frederick was simply digging himself a deeper hole the more he opened his mouth. Annoyed, the ODST moved closer before removing his helmet, revealing his face to Burnham.

 

Surprised, Frederick began to speak, “You’re a goddamn Nig!…” Before he could finish the sentence, however, Mitchell’s boot planted itself across the man’s face, knocking some of his teeth out, sending the chained man falling flat on his back, agonizing in pain.