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He heard movement on the other side. Hushed voices faded in and out. Not English, which could only mean one of two options. Either way, Krone had to announce himself.

"UNSC," he said with a deliberate emphasis. "I'm UNSC, looking for survivors."

Pause. A still silence put him on edge, and for a moment he wasn't sure he heard someone on the other side of the storage access door. He glanced over his shoulder to see Finley doing the same, looking at the door as if he had heard signs of life too. A click from the lock caused Finley's ears to twitch, and Krone tensed, hugging his BR55 tight to his shoulder raising it just as the door opened with scrape of metal against rust. An M392 barrel was pointed directly at him in the moment it took for him to sight in on the man holding it. Half a moment later, he identified the man as local security just as another, a bearded man in tattered civilian garb, placed himself directly in front of Krone with both hands raised.

"Sadiq! Sadiq! Friend!"

That was the end of it. The sergeant pulled his hand away from his weapon grip and raised it as a show of peace. This seemed to satisfy the militiaman well enough for him to lower his rifle if a bit less trusting. That was until Finley growled and let out a low bark at the civilian.

"Sadiq," Krone repeated, before adding, "Salam" in hopes that it might appease everyone, the dog included.

His Arabic was about as developed as his Sangheili, but everyone seemed to get the idea.

Description

He heard movement on the other side. Hushed voices faded in and out. Not English, which could only mean one of two options. Either way, Krone had to announce himself.

"UNSC," he said with a deliberate emphasis. "I'm UNSC, looking for survivors."

Pause. A still silence put him on edge, and for a moment he wasn't sure he heard someone on the other side of the storage access door. He glanced over his shoulder to see Finley doing the same, looking at the door as if he had heard signs of life too. A click from the lock caused Finley's ears to twitch, and Krone tensed, hugging his BR55 tight to his shoulder raising it just as the door opened with scrape of metal against rust. An M392 barrel was pointed directly at him in the moment it took for him to sight in on the man holding it. Half a moment later, he identified the man as local security just as another, a bearded man in tattered civilian garb, placed himself directly in front of Krone with both hands raised.

"Sadiq! Sadiq! Friend!"

That was the end of it. The sergeant pulled his hand away from his weapon grip and raised it as a show of peace. This seemed to satisfy the militiaman well enough for him to lower his rifle if a bit less trusting. That was until Finley growled and let out a low bark at the civilian.

"Sadiq," Krone repeated, before adding, "Salam" in hopes that it might appease everyone, the dog included.

His Arabic was about as developed as his Sangheili, but everyone seemed to get the idea.