Yeah, I know that it's been a REALLY long time since I've updated. School. You know how it is. Plus college apps. Advice - get them done as soon as possible, unlike me.

Enough about my personal life. Let's continue, shall we?

Chapter 3: Through the Night

March 31, 2553. Somewhere in Greece.

By 2000 hours, I was thinking about stopping for the night. I had been driving for about eight and a half hours, and the 'Hog's fuel tank was just under half full. I glanced once again at the captain, who hadn't woken up yet. I had untied his wrists but allowed him to stay unconscious. In hindsight, that might not have been a good idea – if he was out that long, he might be drugged or have something in his system.

I glanced back to the dirt road I was following. It was getting dark, and the Warthog's automatic headlights had kicked in about an hour ago. Basically alone, in one of Greece's many wild mountain ranges, I didn't know how safe it was to stop. I had been hoping to reach Sparta without stopping, but that might not be an option. I was starting to feel the fatigue of a long day slip into my limbs, and I still had about twelve hours left to drive, according to the 'Hog's GPS. I had just enough gas to make it; my own energy, on the other hand, was running low.

The captain shifted next to me. I figured that it would be best if I stopped soon and woke the captain—

My right hand jerked up into the air out of pure reflex. I caught a fist – the captain's fist – in mid-swing. I slammed on the brakes and turned to face the now-wide-awake man in my passenger seat.

I shifted the Warthog into park. "Captain…Ferguson," I said, remembering his name, "they're gone. The insurrectionists are gone."

"What? Who?" The captain's voice was deep and gruff – he sounded more American, maybe Northern European, than Greek. Which made sense if his name was Ferguson, obviously.

"They kidnapped you."

Ferguson sighed. "Oh. I remember now. The traitors. So that must mean that you're the Spartan. Lukas."

I nodded. "I left the insurrectionists at the drop-off point this morning. They couldn't have followed us."

"Good," said Ferguson. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms, yawning. "Where are we headed now?"

"Sparta."

The captain shook his head. "No, not Sparta. There's an outpost we need to stop at, and we'll take a Hornet from there to Sparta tomorrow morning." He peered at the blue GPS display. "We're less than ten minutes away. Keep going, and I'll tell you when to turn."

"Yes sir." I shifted back into drive and accelerated slowly. We drove in silence for a while, each of us contemplating our own thoughts. I decided to take the time to make sure my helmet's GPS was calibrated correctly. It wasn't really necessary – I had already done so three times today – but I wanted to spend the time doing something useful if the captain didn't want to talk.

A flashing icon in my HUD caught my eye. IMPORTANT, it said. I looked at it and blinked. A line of text popped up on the HUD:

NEW MESSAGE FROM SOLSTICE

MESSAGE: Check the personnel list. S.

Who's Solstice? I thought. I maneuvered through the menu options on my HUD until I found PERSONNEL LIST. On the first page of the list I saw the name James Ferguson, Captain pulsing gently. This was getting a little strange.

A minute later, Ferguson coughed. "Turn left up ahead, right before you reach that black tree." The forest on either side of the road was filled with trees, but I saw the black one easily enough. I turned left and found myself on a hidden path, one that looked inconspicuous from the road but was neatly cleared. As I drove, the GPS screen buzzed and shorted out.

"That's part of our security," said Ferguson. "The GPS doesn't work within a mile radius of the base. So the…" Ferguson coughed again. "So the insurrectionists don't find us." Another cough.

"Are you okay, sir?" I asked. "Do you remember if they drugged you?"

"I don't think so, but I can't say for sure," the captain replied. "You'll see an electric security gate in a minute or so. Stop there."

When we reached the gate, I stopped. It looked like just plain gray metal, but as I watched, an electric crackle spread across the bars, and the gate opened. I drove inside wordlessly, looking around at the security measures. Ten-foot-high walls, metal, topped with more electric wires. Half a dozen mounted machine gun turrets on the walls that I could see. And it was all surrounded by trees. Several Marines were patrolling – not a lot, but enough to provide security. I saw some holes in their defense, but I decided to just keep my mouth shut about them.

"That way," said Ferguson, pointing to a vehicle pool. I parked the 'Hog in an empty spot and got out. Two armed Marines jogged up to the captain and I and saluted. Ferguson returned the salute and turned to me.

"Lukas, you're going with these two men for debriefing," Ferguson said. "I'll be with you soon – I just have to file a report first. About the traitors." Before I could respond, Ferguson jogged away to a smaller metal building next to the vehicle pool.

"Follow us, please, sir," said one of the Marines in a Greek-accented voice. Wow. The first Greek person I had seen in more than ten years. All of the other people I had seen here – Ferguson, the traitors, the patrolling Marines – had seemed more American, or possibly English. There were an awful lot of foreigners for a small base in the middle of the Greek wilderness.

Soon we were in the command center, a large three-story building in the middle of the compound. I had to check in my rifle, pistol, grenades, knife, and helmet at the main desk; the Marines kept their weapons. The Marines led me to a small room that looked more or less like a hospital, filled with various instruments and bottles and a hospital bed. One of the Marines picked up an orange pill bottle and dumped two small green pills into his hand. I flinched involuntarily; the two men didn't notice.

"You can get water there," said the Marine, pointing to a sink with a plastic cup next to the hospital bed. "You haven't been on Earth for a while, so we're just inoculating you against any infections you might pick up." He handed me the pills.

I filled up the cup and put the pills in my mouth. "Bottoms up," I said, and drained the water. The Marines started to leave the room. "We'll go get the captain," said one. "Stay here until he arrives." They left, closing the door behind them.

I sat on the bed, waiting. After a few minutes, a vague sense of uneasiness filled me. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

Finally, Ferguson appeared with an electronic clipboard and a digital pen. "Just a registration form for your arrival on Earth," he said, handing the clipboard and pen to me. He closed the door behind him. "I'll have to ask you some questions too. Can you talk and write at the same time?"

"I'll try," I said. I started writing my name and stopped. I coughed hard into my hand and blinked several times. "Sorry," I said.

"Are you okay, Lukas?" asked the captain. "You look a little…off."

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I think I might have picked up a bug or something. I haven't been on Earth for—" I coughed again, violently, falling forward onto the captain, who backed away involuntarily. The clipboard and pen fell to the ground. My forehead connected with his pistol, which was in a holster on his belt. It hurt, and I cradled my forehead in my hands for a second before straightening back up again. "I'm so sorry, sir," I said apologetically. "My head feels a little weird. I can't think straight."

"No problem at all, Lukas," said the captain. "In fact, I think we have some pills that could help you with that."

"I know what you're talking about, sir," I said. "These pills?"

I opened my right hand to reveal two green pills, the pills I had put under my tongue before drinking the water and then coughed back out. The captain stared, wide-eyed. It was then that I knew my suspicions were correct.

"Your Marines told me that these were for inoculation. But I was already inoculated on the Chariot of Fire this morning, before coming down to Earth. And I've seen those pills before." This was a painful memory. "They used to give us these pills every night, us Spartans, when we were kids. Said they would help us sleep and forget." I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice as I flung the pills to the ground. "Well, I didn't forget.

"And that wasn't the only thing, Captain," I continued, watching as Ferguson's expression changed from confusion to alarm. "I checked the personnel records during our little drive. You died during the invasion of New Mombasa. Or at least, the real Captain James Ferguson did. So who does that make you?"

Ferguson could do nothing but stare for a few moments. Then his face turned to a slow grin.

"And all this time I thought Spartans were just killing machines. You're smart, kid. Real smart." He chuckled for a few seconds, and I tensed up, ready to attack. But his expression quickly hardened, and he backed away from me several feet. Out of range of my fist. But not his pistol.

Ferguson drew his pistol and pointed it at me. "Don't move, Spartan. Just accept it. I'm doing you a favor. The UNSC will just use you up and spit you out dry anyway."

It was more or less true, I mused, but not relevant at the moment. Right now I had to deal with this captain. This insurrectionist. This insurrectionist who had a gun pointed at my face in a locked room.

"Go ahead," I said. "End it for me, then. Make sure to aim for my face."

The captain smiled. "Oh, I am."

He pulled the trigger.

At that moment, it occurred to me that I could have found a scalpel, or scissors, or some other kind of tool to use as a weapon, in the few minutes that I had been left alone. That probably would have been a good idea. I just had to content myself with the fact that during my coughing episode, I had ejected the captain's pistol's ammunition clip and then slipped it into a pouch on my belt.

Click, click. The captain's scowl turned to confusion as he pulled the trigger several times to no avail. "April Fools," I said blandly as I pulled out the ammo clip. Technically, it was still March 31st, but in my mind it was close enough.

That was when it hit the captain that he was in a locked room with a hostile Spartan and no way to defend himself. "Just give yourself up, Spartan," Ferguson said. "It's impossible to escape."

"Impossible? I can do impossible," I said, neatly knocking the captain out with my gauntleted fist. TELEPYLOS had been impossible. Escaping, not so much. I picked up his pistol and slotted the ammo clip back in.

Time to see what happens when group of angry rebels meets Spartan.

So...? Please let me know what you think so far. Ideas, criticism, poetic tributes, etc. are all welcome and appreciated. I will respond to all reviews. Danke gut!