Halo: Insurrection
Chapter 1: Information
1000 Hours, October 24, 2558
Sedra, Orrichon System
Derrick Laramie sat at the top of the ridge overlooking the forested valley. His legs dangled off of the cliff's edge, and the young man swung them idly as he took a long pull from his water bottle. Off in the distance, sailing far above the verdant sea of trees, the city of Sedra cast glimmers of sunlight into the cloudless sky. Above the city skyline a flurry of large cargo ships circled, swooping and diving like mechanical birds. Derrick turned and reached for his backpack he had set on the ground and fumbled for his binoculars for a moment. He managed to pull them out, and peeked through the viewfinder. He trained his sights on the ships, watching with squinting eyes while reaching for his ChatterPad with his free hand. Derrick set it to receive mode, placed it in his shirt pocket, and began to talk.
"October the twenty-fourth, two-five-five-eight. This is my second time at the ridge this term. Attached to this video will be a full-length report of my findings." Derrick spoke as his viewfinder trained on a freighter with distinct olive-colored paint.
Derrick was silent for a moment, watching as the freighter descended quickly towards a small hill on the outskirts of the city, only to watch the ship be swallowed by the canopy.
"That was a UNSC Cargo Freighter, and not the first to land in that area. Over the past few months, over three hundred individual freighters—designations in the attached file- have landed in that sector of land, which historically was controlled by the UNSC military but never built up. Now, however, it's a different story. When I went in for a closer look, I was stopped around five klicks away from the landing site by electrified barbed fencing. Additionally, armored UNSC patrols made sweeps every ten minutes—clearly they've decided that this area is worth something to them. Keep in mind, the UNSC has managed to militarize the zone rather quietly— I haven't seen a single thread on the ChatterNet about this rapid increase in military presence. I'm not sure what's going on, but I believe that this should be taken as a warning to all Sedrans—history should tell us that escalation of military presence escalates the dangers to both the defenders and aggressors." Derrick finished his speech and turned off the feed to his ChatterPad.
He set the binoculars back into the backpack and pulled the pad out of his shirt pocket. Derrick sent the recording to his ChatterNet bank and saved it, then put the pad back into his backpack. He stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked away from the cliff.
A small dirt trail snaked its way down the hill, and standing at the foot of it was Matt. Derrick took a double-take, then fumbled to push his reporter's bag behind his back so that his roommate wouldn't see.
"What the hell are you doing here, Matt?" Derrick more yelled than asked.
"Relax, Derrick. I'm not gonna snitch on you or anything. You've been spending a lot of time away from the dorm—Trey suggested that I should follow you out, see what you were doing." Matt said, a twinge of relief in his voice.
"Without my permission." Derrick grumbled.
"Well, we thought you were selling contraband or something. Trey was worried about you, and I thought if you were doing some shady stuff, I wouldn't want the bastards finding their way to us." Matt said with his unforgettable smirk.
Derrick sighed, allowing some of his nervousness to subside. Although a new worry filled him—If his roommates knew about his disappearances, who else would?
"Nobody followed you here, did they?" Derrick said.
Matt laughed and shook his head.
"Just me, Mr. Giraud," sarcasm flooding his voice.
"C'mon man! That's not funny. Way too soon." Derrick said, a little offended by the remark.
"Alright, alright. But really, this is what you've been doing? Documenting UNSC patrols? You know that's probably not the most legal thing to do, right?" Matt replied, his green eyes gazing from furrowed brow.
"Yeah, I know. But somebody's gotta do it. UNSC patrols and ordinance deliveries have nearly sextupled since my first recordings last term. Something's up, and Sedrans have the right to know what it is." Derrick said, nodding to himself.
"Eh, you and I both know the UNSC isn't exactly the most liberal with its allowances of wartime reporting." Matt said.
"You and I both know that's just what the UNSC is calling it. It's martial law with a fancy coat of paint, that's all." Derrick spat, looking up to another transport ship.
"Hey, we're in agreement on that one. But seriously. We gotta head home." Matt said, gesturing towards the path.
Derrick turned on The Sedran Report as he and Matt hiked to the bottom of the ridge. The only thing the Report seemed to be talking about, which was just as true for many of the outer colonies, was the recent communications blackouts on numerous Outer Colony worlds. As Matt and Derrick slipped through the forest canopy, the main anchor issued a chilling cry.
"With each blackout, we lose more and more information about the welfare of these planets. Scattered sources have been claiming these blackouts are the result of a Covenant attack, while others claim something much more dangerous is occurring. Several reputable emissaries from Outer-Colony worlds have mentioned similarities to the New Phoenix event—an event that killed Billions on Earth in July of last year. All of our UNSC sources continue to refuse comment—a cause for concern, certainly. Billions are unaccounted for, and with no way to reach their home worlds, it's feared that it may stay that way for the foreseeable future. Please, if you have any information or are from the affected areas, please contact our affiliates. You voice does not need to be silenced."
They reached the car park as the segment ended, where Matt's CivHog sat waiting. Derrick threw his reporter's bag into the back and hopped into the passenger seat, where he programmed their journey home. As the engine started and the Hog pulled out of the parking lot and onto the large arterial motorway, Derrick began to compile his findings. Matt glanced to the ChaterPad every so often from the driver's seat.
Derrick saved the complied documents onto a secure section of his ChatterPad, and sent a backup into the general ChatterNet forums for proofreading and peer analysis. As this was all Derrick wanted to risk doing from a traceable Chatterpad, he set it at his feet and laid back in the passenger seat. The hog's open top allowed the warm Sedran air to whip at his face and tousle his thin brown hair.
"You know you're sitting on a goldmine there. I'm sure there are a lot of people who want the info you've complied." Matt said from the driver's seat, his eyes looking straight ahead.
Derrick turned to face him.
"Yeah, and that's why we need to give it to everybody." Derrick said, closing his eyes.
Derrick awoke to the sound of the car pulling into the driveway and shutting down. Wiping the grogginess from his eyes, Derrick stepped out of the car and grabbed his stuff from the back. He looked up briefly at his house—the medium-sized, white and grey tract-style dormitories Sedra City College supplied its students with. The yard was colored with dark green grass and a Sedran flag hung proud from a holder on the second story terrace. Sedra-Lillies lined the concrete footpath to the door, their sixteen-spoked pedals waving and dancing in the faint breeze that blew through the town. Matt stepped quickly up to the front porch, and Derrick followed. Derrick stood at the footpath to the front door while Matt scanned his fingerprints on the knob. The front panel chimed and the door opened, and the two boys stepped inside. Derrick set his bag on the hangar beside the door and shrugged off his coat. A cocktail of aromatic spices wafted to greet Derrick, and he rushed into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Trey. Matt walked beside him and sat down at the small table beside the kitchen, where he promptly tilted his head back and began tossing an old hacky-sack up and down. Trey stood at the kitchen throwing strange greens into a large pot, stirring it with a spoon.
"Wow, what's the occasion, Trey?" Derrick asked as he filled up his water bottle from the fridge.
Trey turned around, his brow furrowed. "Well, the occasion is that this is the last of the food in the fridge. We're kinda broke."
Derrick looked at Trey for a moment, unsure if this was a strange joke he was attempting to play.
"You're kidding." Derrick said, shocked.
Matt caught the hacky sack he was tossing and sat up in his chair. He looked straight at Derrick.
"Well, we've been broke for a little over a year and a half. Trey didn't tell us, but we've been on an Opportunity Grant the whole time. They've cut our funding," Matt pulled out his pad and forwarded the ChatterMail to Derrick.
Derrick opened his pad and read the letter.
Dear Mr. Laramie, Paulson, and Petrovick,
It is with our deepest regrets that we must inform you all that effective Twenty of October, 2558, you will no longer be receiving funds from the Sedran Colonial Authority. Due to lack of academic output by your group, as well as the increased population of University-ready Sedrans, it has become necessary for the funds to be re-allocated for the remainder of the term. If by the next academic term your group can present the Board sufficient evidence of your academic improvement, then there may be a reversal of this decision. It would be advisable to contact your social workers to discuss these matters further.
Best of Wishes,
Dr. William Broadwick,
Ministry of Education, Sedra Colonial Authority
Derrick set his Pad down on the table and fell against the wall.
"How are we gonna pay rent?" Derrick asked, more to himself than to his roommates.
"Matt… There's always the option of talking to your dad." Trey asked hesitantly.
Matt turned and pelted Trey with the hacky-sack.
"You know the situation with 'Senator Daddy'. Completely cut off for ten years." Matt said, his words dripping venom.
Matt got up off of the chair and waved Trey out of the room. Trey walked out with the stew-pot in his hands, shaking his head and glaring at Matt. Derrick ran his hands through his thin hair, trying to wish the whole situation away.
"Hey, Derrick. I've got an idea on how we can get the money, but I don't think you're going to like it." Matt said quietly, and motioned for Derrick to follow him.
"What is it?" Derrick asked, standing up and following Matt down the hall towards the office.
Matt was silent as they walked down the hall. This would've had to have been serious—Matt never let anybody in his office. Even the girls he occasionally had over were forced to sleep on the couch, much to their contempt. Matt was a sociable guy, but he was extremely paranoid. His room was his inner sanctum, and not meant to be tread on lightly. Matt undid the multiple analog locks and opened the door. It swung open silently and the two stepped inside, Derrick closing the door behind him.
The office was covered in posters and ripped paper. The air reeked of old books and the metallic smell of solder. A holoboard was hung next to the door, strange symbols and electronic components displayed in the screen. A flag hung behind the office desk, a beige canvas with a snake chopped in pieces, old type claiming "Join or Die". To the right, the wall was covered in papers and filing cabinets—some academic, many not. Drawings of strange glyphs peppered the wall, including one that was instantly recognizable—The infamous Seeing Triangle of the Office of Naval Intelligence. It seemed that the office could double as Matt's room if needed—a small bed was pushed into the corner next to the filing cabinets. The scene looked as if Matt was living in his own private police station.
"What the hell is this, Matt?" Derrick asked, more than a little worried.
Matt walked around the room, eyeing the holoboard before sitting down at his desk. He motioned for Derrick to join him behind the table, and Derrick did. Matt manipulated some buttons on the desk and the holoboard next to the door pulled up a picture of a man. The person was middle-aged, with a large scar that ran from the bottom of his neck up to his jaw. His eyes were sharp, glimmering with powerful emotion. The man's face made Derrick shudder.
"Who the hell is that, Matt?" Derrick managed, looking at Matt.
"I mentioned earlier that that info you got is a goldmine, right? How much do you think you could get from a major publication?" Matt asked, staring at the holo-projected face of the man.
"I…I don't know. This was meant to me a Magnum Opus of sorts. A springboard to launch my journalistic career." Apprehension began to creep into Derrick's head.
"How much could you get, Derrick?" Matt continued.
"…Probably not enough to sustain us until the end of the year." Derrick replied, running the numbers in his head.
"Then I have a proposition for you. For us." Matt spoke simply, still staring at the screen.
"And what would that be? Who is this guy?" Derrick replied, his stomach churning in anxiety.
Matt turned in the chair and pointed to the picture on the holoboard.
"This man is in a particular business—he sells information. I've been in contact with him for a while. In fact, he contacted me first, looking for you. He's willing to part with a generous sum of money for your information." Matt said, looking at Derrick with pleading eyes.
"Who does he work for?" Derrick asked, caution grabbing hold of his words.
"That I don't know. The guy's a ghost. I've spent nearly the entire month trying to track him down. According to records on Sedra, as well as multiple forums on the ChatterNet, this guy doesn't exist. All I know is that he's willing to meet with us and exchange, but just you and me. He says he needs your information very soon. Do you want to do this?" Matt asked Derrick.
Derrick stood there, motionless. All his instincts were telling him to say no.
"How much is this guy willing to part with?" Derrick asked.
"Two hundred and fifty million Credits." Matt said.
"Shit, that's a lot."
Derrick was lost in thought. He had heard stories of people who had done shady deals in Sedra who had disappeared. Derrick knew that information on the whereabouts of UNSC troops was important to their enemies—whoever that may be. The Covenant came into Derrick's mind first—it had been just two years since the Covenant had killed thousands in their biochemical attacks on the City, and somebody had to have sold out somewhere for that to have occurred on a peaceful planet. Additionally, with such a large amount of credits on the line the deal almost seemed too good to be true. But Derrick had been planning on giving the information away, and he knew its value. He knew that the result of his findings could lead to many number of outcomes- the military escalation of the Sedra Colonial Guard, a potential conflict with the UNSC, leverage to negotiate better trade and autonomy deals—in a perfect world, the removal of martial law on Sedra. And even a fraction of the credits was enough to get himself off-planet for a long while—perhaps enough for a permanent tour of the Inner Colonies.
"If we do this and we're caught, they'll ghost us too. Selling UNSC military secrets isn't a light offense man. We go to ONI prison for that. And nobody gets out of ONI prison. How do we know this guy is legit? That he isn't just a spook for ONI?" Derrick asked.
"We don't." Matt replied.
Derrick sat down on the table and stared out the window. The money was enticing—it would save all three of them from being kicked out of the college. Plus, it was no secret that many Sedrans were unsupportive of the UNSC's continued presence post-war. Perhaps this man could spread the world to other colonies.
Derrick looked at the picture of the man one last time. The man's eyes seemed to stare at him, calling. They were not angry eyes, more the eyes of a man out for revenge.
"Okay. Message this man and tell him we can meet. Tonight."