Chapter 4: Slave Labor

"I hope you know what you're doing," Kelly muttered, ducking as another blast from a plasma pistol nearly took off her head.

"Me, too," her partner, Quill, grunted. He bit off the end of the roll of tape and secured it. "At least you get the easy part."

"Easy my ass," the Spartan II replied.

Tuckkit pressed a hand to his bleeding side, his other hand gripping his pistol. His rifle lay outside of the spot of cover he had found, but constant bombardment from plasma pistols would soon destroy the weapon. Kelly and Quill had responded to the Spartan IV's call for backup after the ambush had killed his small team. Three bodies lay in the hallway, none moving and riddled with plasma burns. Their vital signs had flat-lined.

"I'm sending medical and backup," John told the pinned team over the radio. "Get under cover and hold your position." Kelly could hear the faintest line of stress in his voice, though it would take a lifetime of camaraderie to know it. To the rest of the soldiers around the ship, it sounded like the Captain was calm and confidant.

"You heard the captain," Quill chuckled. He bounced the five taped-together grenades in one hand. The pins had been tied together. The plan was simple but relied on the grenades. With five of them, Kelly hoped they would blow through the wall between them and space, sucking out the ambush team and allowing her a moment of confusion to snatch Tuckkit out of harm's way and retreat with him.

Quill waited for a short lull in the shooting; the Jackals fired at about the same rate and did not stagger their reloads. He stood, turning side-on to the enemy to minimize the target area of his body, and hurled the package down the hallway. It struck a Jackal's shield and bounced towards the outer wall. Quill dropped back down, the pins on the deck next to him, and covered his head. Kelly dropped her rifle next to him and put a hand on the edge of plating they were using for cover.

The five grenades exploded and the outer wall, weakened by abuse and neglect, tore open with a grinding shriek. Four Jackals were immediately sucked out into the vacuum as Kelly sprinted out of cover. A couple of Jackals remained by the time she slid to a stop next to Tuckkit, shielding her CO with her armor, but they were hanging onto anything within reach for dear life.

As gently and quickly as possible, Kelly picked Tuckkit up and sprinted back towards her partner. Quill was already at the next hallway junction, holding the doors open with their rifles slung over his shoulders. Kelly ducked under his arm and Quill let the purple doors slam shut. The hallway they had been ambushed in would be devoid of atmosphere and life within moments.

Tuckkit groaned softly and grit his teeth as Kelly set him down. She none-too-gently shoved an empty magazine from her pouch into his mouth and pried his hands away from his wound. The blast had destroyed the biofoam injection ports which explained why his armor had not yet plugged the hole. Tuckkit had lost a lot of blood, some of it smeared on her armor, but Kelly thought he would make it. She pulled the can of biofoam from its destroyed housing and manually injected it into the wound. Tuckkit gasped and grabbed her forearm, biting down on the magazine to muffle a shout of pain.

"We'll evac you to the bay, sir," Kelly told Tuckkit. He nodded and let Kelly help him to his feet. Quill took point while Kelly one-handed Tuckkit's pistol and kept her other arm around her CO, balancing him and keeping him moving forward.

~~Back on the Odysseus II

How did this go so wrong? John asked himself, staring at the reports coming in. Eighteen casualties reported so far – and three MIA, suspected KIA – plus twice that in wounded. Resistance was much heavier than any other captured Jackal ship, and to make things worse, this ship had been able to punch through the scrambling codes and send a mayday to Eayn. Within three hours, a dozen warships would be bearing down on the humans.

Fred had wrung the location of this ship, a high-profile target on the UNSC list of known pirate vessels, from the Jackal currently recovering in his jail cell. While John had been cautious, even expecting an ambush, the sheer number of Jackals on this ship had caught everyone by surprise, especially after the last few boardings had gone so smoothly.

Maximus had plotted the course to an outlying asteroid in the system and found the ship, Killing Blows, in an orbit around a small Kig-Yar mining colony. The colony had raised no alarm when Maximus had sent in a small probe, leading the AI and bridge officers to conclude that the colony was abandoned or severely understaffed.

"Recall all boarding parties," John ordered Kent harshly. "We'll take them out from here."

"We're being hailed, Captain," Kent replied tersely.

"By who?" John asked incredulously.

"Eayn, sir."

John paused and considered this news. The bridge officers were tense as they waited for their captain's next orders.

"Patch it to my office," John finally ordered. "Kent, take over here – get our people out of that ship."

"Aye, Captain." Kent turned towards the bridge officers while John quickly trotted out of the bridge and towards his quarters. On the way, he smoothed his formal uniform and hair down, knowing he should look at least presentable.

"I will translate," Maximus said as soon as John opened the door to his office. "You look fine, Captain. Remain calm and firm. Jackals respect a solid leader."

John nodded his understanding – and his thanks for the advice – as he sat down behind his desk. He could hear the faint click from the outer door as it locked. The room lights dimmed and a communications screen popped up above his desk. John accepted the call and straightened as the connection was made.

Three Jackals were standing on the other side of the call, dressed extravagantly in purple and blue hues, the colors of Jackal royalty. John could see the well-groomed teeth and thin layer of blubber that marked the three aliens as high-ranking officials, rich enough to feed themselves well. Two of them had plates instead of spines, marking them as female.

The largest, and presumably the leader, stepped forward, putting herself ahead of her comrades. "I am Chur'R-Wit, Shipmistress of Glory Unfolding," the alien said. Maximus translated. "My partners are Chur'T-Hil, Shipmaster of Newcoming Sunrise." The smallest inclined his head slightly, his spikes glittering slightly. It looked like they had been painted with gold dust. "And Chur'R-Sal, Shipmistress of Unspoken Maladies." The one to Chur'R-Wit's right exposed her teeth which had silver cases around them. "We have been nominated by our peers to speak with the Shipmaster of the Odysseus II."

"I am Captain Sierra-117, Shipmaster of the UNSC Odysseus II," John said formally. This seemed to make the Jackals nervous; Chur'T-Hil twitched and looked worriedly off-screen at someone.

"You are the one they call the Demon?" Chur'T-Hil asked cautiously.

"I have been called that," John agreed. His reputation during the Human-Covenant War still had an impact on the cowardly aliens, it seemed.

"We wonder why you have attacked our ship and request that you cease your attack at once. Your attack comes unprovoked and we can prevent loss of life on both sides if you would agree to discuss your reasons for this attack," Chur'R-Wit said, her plates rattling slightly as she tried to appear larger.

"According to our treaty, you gave up all rights to this ship once it became known as a pirate vessel. Since you have failed to uphold the terms of our agreement and stem the piratical ships leaving and returning to Eayn, the UNSC has sent us to assist you in your task." John raised an eyebrow slightly. "We have allowed your official ships to pass unmolested and only destroyed those which have been confirmed as pirate ships."

"You are killing hundreds of our kind," Chur'T-Hil whined, squawking.

John shook his head. "Hundreds of pirates – surely the government of Eayn, who signed the treaty and agreed to all terms therein, appreciates our efforts in safeguarding the Kig-Yar as well as ourselves."

Chur'T-Hil bared his teeth but said nothing. Despite the "official" government of the Jackal homeworld signing the treaty, everyone knew that the real power on Eayn were the pirates. John knew he was entirely on the green side of legal to destroy pirate ships but also knew that "legal" meant little to these particular aliens.

"We do appreciate your efforts," Chur'R-Wit said, silencing her companions with a snarl. "However, we do not wish to tax the UNSC – with so much to rebuild, after all, surely your single ship and soldiers are dearly needed elsewhere." The false sincerity in her voice was conveyed through Maximus' translation. "We have been addressing this issue within our own ranks and have been doing well in stemming the problem pirates."

Maximus snorted, muting the conversation for a moment. "Sir, our connection has allowed me to access some of their databases. Chur'R-Wit owns the ship that we're attacking. It's carrying a special cargo, but I can't tell what yet."

"Tell Kent and order the second wave to look for that cargo."

"Aye, sir. Convo's back up." Maximus disappeared again and John cleared his throat calmly.

"Nevertheless, it seems that you need our help. Numerous human and Sangheili ships have reported pirate activity increasing in recent months. We are here to make an example of the pirates. Once we are-"

Maximus suddenly appeared again and muted the conversation. "Sir, you're needed on the bridge."

John nodded and got up. Maximus terminated the connection to the Eayn representatives and unlocked the door even as the captain strode quickly towards it. He jogged onto the bridge to find Kent, pale and stressed, barking orders into a microphone.

"Captain!" Kent breathed a short sigh of relief. "They've got human hostages – they're using them as shields."

John looked up at the main screen to see several soldiers' cameras showing Jackals using humans – mostly men, he noted – as meat shields, advancing through the corridors. John's knuckles cracked as he made a fist of unconscious anger though his expression remained blank.

"Open a line to their bridge and get our soldiers into the Pelicans. Have them station just outside the bays."

"Aye, sir," Kent replied, turning to give the necessary orders.

The soldiers quickly retreated. One Pelican returned with wounded, including Master Chief Tuckkit in critical condition, and the rest hovered just inside the effective reach of the ship's plasma weapons. They were safe there, but if they needed to return to the Odysseus II they would be sitting ducks.

The main screen went blank for a second and then a Jackal, sitting down with a bandage over one eye, appeared on-screen. He squawked for a moment before Maximus began translating the words for the entire bridge to hear.

"I am Kal, acting shipmaster of Killing Blows. Recall your ships and your soldiers and prepare to be boarded."

"Negative," John replied immediately, shaking his head. "Your tag reads the same as a ship that attacked and destroyed a Sangheili mining platform three months ago. Per the treaty with the Kig-Yar, we have targeted you to recapture stolen cargo and to ensure your pirating does not go unpunished. We order you to release all human prisoners and surrender to us. If you do so peacefully and quickly, you will be allowed to return to Eayn on condition that you never take up your pirating ways again."

Kal chuffed and shook his head, making his spines sway. He was fairly young by the alien's standards; his spines were still slightly floppy and one had a noticeable bend in it. "You will not attack us while we have the slaves."

Kent signaled for Maximus to mute the conversation and asked, "Did he say slaves?" incredulously.

"The word most closely translates as "captives to be used in labor" – probably hard labor. A few of them had UNSC tags, sir," Maximus added, turning to John.

Kent frowned. "Possibly POWs never recovered or deserters captured on the fringes."

"Slave trading comes with a death sentence, according to the laws of Eayn. Slave trading of Jackals, at least. There isn't anything about humans…" Maximus unfocused his eyes as he accessed more data. "But the treaty indicates that slave trading of any species by any species, even their own, can be answered with a threat of war. I wouldn't recommend that, seeing as we're one ship out here."

"War ships inbound, Captain," Shepherd interrupted. On screen, the Jackal was waving his hands wildly, probably angry at being ignored and muted. "ETA forty minutes."

John nodded to show he had heard and turned back to Maximus. "Patch back through the Chur'R-Wit and tell her that if she does not recall her ships in ten minutes, we will open fire on the Killing Blows."

The entire bridge paused. "Sir… There are humans aboard the ship," Kent said hesitantly.

John nodded, already inputting orders into the computer and sending them to Sara. He called up Fred, Kelly, and Linda on his personal radio. "We've got a mission, Spartans," he told them, motioning for Kent to make the ultimatum. "Is anyone breached?"

"No, sir," all three replied. Linda and Fred were in one Pelican together; Kelly was in another. All three had been part of the invasion force.

"Good. We have seven minutes to infiltrate, find the captives, and get them out. I'm on my way. Find us a way in." John looked up to find Kent watching him with a mix of incredulity and frustration. "Lecture me later, Kent. You're in charge. When that clock hits zero, if those ships haven't retreated, fire on that ship – no matter what."

Dr. West appeared with several technicians in tow, each carrying a piece of John's armor. They immediately began encasing him in it, even with his formal uniform on. John unclipped his Spartan eagle wing and captain's badge from his uniform and handed them to Sara for safekeeping.

"Sir, I'd cite regulations but I have a feeling you won't listen," Maximus said dryly.

"You're starting to learn," John replied with a slight grin. He held his arms out as two technicians slipped the shoulder pieces over them and began bolting them into place.

"Chur'R-Wit is arguing with your ultimatum," Maximus reported after a few silent seconds.

"Argue back." John slid his helmet on and locked it into place even as he turned away from the bridge. Sara and her technicians cleared out of the way and John sprinted down to the bays where a Longsword was already waiting. The pilot warmed it up and the outer doors opened even as John stepped into the bay. He grabbed onto the Longsword's wheels and activated his magnetic soles. He thumped on the hull and the small attack ship shot out of the bay.

Clinging to the hull, John could feel the acceleration tugging at him but ignored it. He activated his visor's FOF tag finder and looked for his team. He found them clustered on the ship's hull and sent the coordinates to the pilot. The Longsword turned accordingly.

The pilot slowed the craft but since it couldn't hover, John would have to time his jump exactly. He alerted Kelly to his plan and she winked her green acknowledgement light. John climbed to the nose of the bird as the ship grew larger and larger against the blackness of space. The pilot began his turn and John forced himself to let go of the ship. His momentum kept him streaking towards the Killing Blows, but he couldn't yet make out his Spartans. The Longsword pilot, his job done, rushed back to the Odysseus II before the Jackal ship could target him.

John turned himself around carefully so that his boots pointed at the hull and tapped on his thrusters. He slowed slightly, but not enough – he tapped them again and then a third time.

"I see you," Kelly said into his earpiece. "You're coming in too fast."

John grunted. He couldn't yet see Kelly and fired his thrusters. The fuel was nearly spent; it winked warningly at him just as he caught sight of a green flash of armor on the side of the purple ship. His fuel tank emptied and the thrusters shut down but they had managed to slow him enough to survive the impact.

His boots hit the side of the ship and John pulsed the magnetic soles briefly. If he held it on too long, he would rip his feet from his body. Kelly and Fred, their own magnetic soles on, grabbed onto him briefly, killing most of his speed. He still bounced away and Linda, standing a few meters away, just managed to snag his boot and slam him into the ship.

John could feel bruises forming and his lip was bleeding but he was safely down on the Jackal ship's hull. Linda helped him to his feet and he checked his armor's diagnostics to make sure all of his seals were still intact. They were abused but safe for now.

Fred pried open a maintenance hatch and the four Spartans quickly descended through it. John checked his mission clock; five minutes and thirty seconds remained.

"We need to move quickly," John ordered. "Kelly, you're with me; we'll round up the human shields. Fred, Linda, head towards the brig. If you find prisoners, get them to the bays and call in a Pelican."

"The bays are heavily guarded," Kelly warned even as the group split into two and began sprinting down the hallway.

"We'll have to deal with that later," John replied. A Jackal rounded the corner; John took it by surprise and quickly snapped its neck before moving on.

At a dead sprint, Kelly and John made it to the last known location of the human shields in thirty-three seconds. There was no sign of the humans; Kelly cursed quietly and John led them on a sprint down another hallway.

Fred and Linda took nearly a full minute to reach the brig and cargo bays, where they found close to fifty skinny, hollow-eyed humans chained to a wall. Linda quickly broke the chains and asked everyone if there were any missing; the prisoners replied that thirty of their number had been taken by the Jackals several minutes ago. The pair relayed this information to John.

Linda, watching for Jackals creeping up from the maze in the cargo bay, spotted a familiar object. She nudged Fred and nodded to it.

"It's that Strong Life symbol again," she muttered over the radio. This time, the piece of Forerunner tech was nearly twice her height and two meters on a side. It had not yet fused to the ship's floor and the purple Old Covenant markings on it were missing.

"We don't have time," Fred growled, helping a man to his feet after snapping the restraints binding his ankles together.

Linda nodded but made sure to take several pictures of the object. She sent them directly to Dr. Manhattan. Despite the thing's apparent lifelessness, she shivered every time she looked at it.

Fred took point on the run for the bays. It took nearly two minutes for the augmented humans to make it as many were exhausted and weak from starvation.

Fred and Linda stormed the bay in a two-Spartan whirlwind. They killed the guards and called in the nearest Pelican with room for the prisoners; it landed and the soldiers inside took control of the newly-freed captives. The Pelican struggled to lift off but the pilot coaxed her into the air. Once the Pelican had safely retreated from the bay, Fred reported to John that they had successfully evacuated forty-five prisoners.

"We've found the rest," John replied grimly. "They were executed. Call in a bird for us."

"Aye, sir," Fred replied. He signaled another hovering Pelican and it began its approach.

John sent a call to Kent, who picked up immediately. "Sir, Kal is throwing a fit and those ships are still on approach," he said.

"Prepare to fire. Recall the Pelicans and send out the Longswords to cover us. We've recovered forty-five and thirty were executed."

"Aye, sir."

John and Kelly stepped into the Jackal bay just as the Pelican touched down. They climbed aboard, crowding the cargo bay and the Marines inside. The pilot ignored proper takeoff procedures and simply burned his engines, setting the bay aflame as the Pelican shot out into space.

"Archer missiles and MAC round inbound," Kent reported to John just as the mission clock hit 00:00.

"Brace yourselves," John ordered the soldiers in the cargo bay. He and his Spartans attached harnesses to their armor to hold them in place in case the Pelican was clipped by debris. He did not want to squish anyone accidentally.

"We have impact." Kent's voice was strained. "Total destruction imminent."

"Warships are inbound," Maximus added. "Longswords on their way, Captain."

"Don't fire on them unless you have to," John told the AI and XO.

"Aye, sir," both replied.

One of the fleeing Pelicans was clipped by a piece of debris and careened wildly for a moment before righting itself. A dozen Longswords surrounded the slower-moving craft and kept alert for incoming threats. They broke up debris with small missiles when it hurtled towards them so that only little pings warned the soldiers they were being hit.

The Odysseus II intercepted the group and swallowed up the Pelicans and Longswords in a confused jumble. No one was in their correct bay but everyone, at least, was within the safety of the large ship's shields.

"We're all on board," John reported to Kent.

"Preparing Slipspace jump," Maximus said over the same frequency. "I'll put us out of range of their sensors."

"And ours at the same time," Kent argued.

"Do it, Maximus," John ordered. He stepped out of the Pelican and looked around. The fifteen civilians – his HUD showed three FOF tags but the rest were untagged – were in a corner of the bay, kept out of the way by a small team until the medics could make room in the clinic to see them.

Fred, Linda, and Kelly immediately started helping shift gear and wounded personnel as needed. John left them to it and jogged up to the bridge, still in his armor. He had to duck through the hatch to get onto the bridge itself.

"Captain on deck!" Kent barked when John stepped into view. Everyone stood and saluted. John waved them back to their positions at their consoles and pulled off his helmet. He tucked it under one elbow and observed the main view screen.

"We've got eight warships still bearing down on us," Kent reported quietly. "They're old – this one here is frigate-class, but the rest are carriers and cruisers refitted for battle. These two are definitely old UNSC ships; these other two might be pre-war relics of the Old Covenant."

John nodded, reading the screen's output data. Two of the ships had tags that identified them as previously having been involved in pirate activity; a third was on the wanted list because it had been stolen after the war.

"Cripple that one," John ordered Maximus, tapping the stolen frigate. "And then initiate Slipspace jump."

The ship thumped as a MAC round sailed away and then bumped again as Maximus took them into Slipspace. The utter calm and quiet let the officers on the bridge relax slightly, though they remained vigilant.

"Put casualty reports on my HUD," John ordered Maximus as he turned to address the bridge officers. They turned towards him, though one eye in every head stayed on screens and readouts. "Good job today. Find your relief and get some R&R while you can." He nodded to Kent to oversee the change and then pulled his helmet on and strode from the bridge.

He felt content, being in his armor and having run some nervous energy from weeks of being suspended on the bridge of the Odysseus II instead of in the fight. However, as he read over the casualty report that Maximus had put on his HUD, John couldn't help but frown and berate himself.

Intellectually, he knew that he had done exactly as he should have, sending in a decently sized invasion force that balanced size and speed well for their job. There had been no warning of the resistance they had met, nor any indication that the Jackals had captured humans for slave trade. John made a mental note to interview each of the prisoners and find out where they had come from.

Still, the losses – nineteen KIA since one soldier had died of his wounds – rankled him. The three missing soldiers he relabeled as KIA, since there was no way they could have survived the destruction of the Killing Blows. That made twenty-two dead and two critically wounded, including Master Chief Tuckkit.

"Where are you off to, Captain?" Kelly asked, slipping into John's line of sight. She had already removed her armor and thus stood shorter compared to him than usual.

"Garage then my quarters to review my report," John replied. Kelly fell into step next to him; her hand just briefly brushed against his glove. John smiled behind his helmet.

"I was on my way to visit Tuckkit," Kelly said, glancing up at him. "Want to come with, after we get your armor off?" John could tell she was subtly hinting that he should come, and he realized he had never considered visiting the wounded. It wasn't something a Spartan expected to do, after all, but as Captain, it would be expected of him.

John nodded and the pair walked the rest of the way to the garage in silence. There, Dr. West met them with a pair of technicians. With Kelly and John's help, the group had the Captain out of his MJOLNIR faster than John liked. He felt naked and exposed without his armor, and his formal uniform was wrinkled past a simple straightening. Kelly tugged on it a few times, smoothing out the worst of the creases, and then pinned his Spartan eagle and Captain insignia back into place for him. She licked her thumb and rubbed a spot of blood off of his chin.

"Thanks," John chuckled quietly, combing his hair with his fingers. Kelly grinned and winked. John also thanked the technicians and Sara and then headed towards the infirmary with Kelly. He quietly told her the casualty counts as well as his plan to interview the prisoners; Kelly suggested doing so in one of the conference rooms instead of his own office, and doing both individual and a group interview in order to corroborate stories. John took her suggestions to heart and thanked her for her insight.

Inside the infirmary, the chaos of battle had calmed slightly. While some soldiers still sat in the lobby, bleeding into gauze snatched hastily from a cart by a harried nurse, most had been stitched up and sent to their bunks or to an observation room.

"Where can we find Master Chief Tuckkit?" Kelly asked, gently grabbing the nurse's arm and attention. She looked between the two Spartans for a moment and then pointed down the hall.

"Blue Room 6," she told them. She moved away quickly to help a young soldier trying not to puke on his shoes. Instead, he puked into a blue bag, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Kelly led the way further into the infirmary and knocked at the door to the room with a blue border and a big "6" at the top of the hatch. The door hissed open and she stepped in.

Tuckkit was lying on a hospital bed, legs and pelvis covered with a blanket and torso wrapped in thick gauze. "Hey, Kelly," Tuckkit said, voice rough from painkillers. He was sipping at a straw that poked through a spill-proof cap into a tall pouch of water.

John stepped through the door; Tuckkit winced as he tried to sit up straighter. "Relax, Tuck," Kelly scolded, pressing down gently on the man's shoulder. "You're not supposed to be moving around."

Tuckkit snorted and nodded gravely in greeting to John. "It's an honor, sir," he said.

"The honor is mine," John replied. He folded his hands behind his back, unsure of how to proceed.

Kelly rescued him again, though, rolling her eyes at him. "We're glad you're going to make it," she told her CO.

"I owe it to you," Tuckkit replied. Kelly shook her head slightly. "Seriously, Kel-kel." John hid his surprise at the nickname for his friend. "I would have died on that ship if it hadn't been for you and Quill."

"I'll remember that next time you try to partner me with Mear," Kelly replied with a grin.

Tuckkit groaned. "She's not that bad, Kel. Just… Different from you."

"She is that bad."

"All the guys like her."

"That's because she lets them in her pants on a nightly basis!" Kelly huffed.

"And some of the girls."

"That's because she hooks them up with the guys!" Kelly waved her hand at the wall for emphasis.

They were interrupted by a buzzing from the PA system overhead. "Captain S-117, please report to Conference Room B."

John frowned. Kent would not put out a ship-wide broadcast on a whim. He nodded in farewell to Kelly, who sat down in a chair to chat with her CO, and Tuckkit before stepping out of the room and walking quickly towards said Conference Room.

He opened the door to chaos and anger.

"We have to go back!" one man was screaming at a flustered Kent. John's XO was frantically trying to field angry people from all sides.

"My wife-" a young man started. He was cut off by a much older man, nearly fifty by John's estimate, who screeched at him. The young man turned red in the face and took a breath to yell a retort.

John let the door hiss shut behind himself and strode into the room, intentionally drawing attention to himself. The room slowly quieted as arguing pairs or groups noticed his presence. He stood next to Kent, who saluted smartly.

"Captain, these are all of the prisoners in fit condition from the Killing Blows," he said loudly over the quiet. "They have a concern they wish you to address."

John nodded and Kent stepped back, putting his back to the wall and watching a couple of the most outspoken men carefully.

"Welcome aboard the Odysseus II," John told the men – four total – and women – two total, including one that looked ready to give birth any second. He noted the haunted look lurking behind most of their eyes. The pregnant woman was attended by an older woman missing several chunks of skin from her cheeks and the fleshier parts of her arms. "I am Captain S-117." There were several glances between pairs at his designation. Many sets of eyes narrowed while others widened. "I will need to speak to each of you individually, but it seems that you have already taken a group interview into your hands. Please be seated and I will listen to your concerns."

John sat at the head of the long conference table and waited silently, consciously keeping his face blank. After a few seconds of silence, the pregnant woman and her attendant sat down at the other end of the table; with their example set, the rest of the group took seats. The closest was three seats away on John's left and the Spartan could not help but notice the way the man leaned away. Kent sat directly on his right once all of their guests had settled.

"I will first need introductions – name and home world, as well as how long you have been a captive of the Jackals. We will go more in detail later when I interview each of you in private," John told the men and women. He nodded to the man on his left to begin the introductions.

The man cleared his throat. He had been the young man yelling about his wife earlier. "I'm Jack Norrison from Madrigal and then New Llanelli. Been a prisoner since 2546." He had no hair, though tufts of it growing from random sections of his scalp told John it was probably not by choice. His eyes were hazel and bone-weary but fiery with determination. His skin was jet black, whether naturally or from some sort of dust John could not tell since his clothing was filthy as well. Against his dark skin, his remaining few teeth were yellow and chipped.

Jack nudged the older man on his left who, with a glare at Jack that told John there was a power play between the two, sniffed before replying. He blew his nose into his hands and wiped it on his filthy jacket. "Russell Norrison, Madrigal, 2546," he growled. He looked like an older version of Jack with wisps of grey hair over a scalp spotted with zits and scars.

"He's my father," Jack explained. Russell grunted.

The next person down, the woman missing chunks of skin with red hair and what was probably a fair complexion but sallow due to lack of food and light, leaned forward to make eye contact with John. "I'm Julia Kirkwood, from Levosia. I was captured in 2549 on Arcadia." She put her hand on the shoulder of the pregnant woman. "This is Maddy – we don't know her real name. I found her on Arcadia during the attack and we were captured together." Maddy was a very young woman, likely in her late twenties if John had to guess, with limp black hair that she used as a screen to shield her face. "She was twelve at the time; she hasn't spoken since."

John nodded to the pair of women and looked at the last two in the group. The two men glowered and then Jack snapped at them to "just do it." They shifted, resenting Jack's order, and spat out their introductions like bad fruit. The two men looked nearly identical except that one was thinner while the other had one milky-white eye.

"Jake Crow, Arcadia, 2549," the partially-blind man muttered.

"Tim Crow, Arcadia, 2549," the other added grudgingly.

John nodded. "I am the captain of this ship, Sierra-117. This is my XO, Kent. Now, I would like to know what you were yelling about earlier."

Jack leaned forward, blocking his father's view of the Spartan. Russell leaned back in his chair and sucked in his cheeks as though he was smoking a pipe. Julia gripped Maddy's hand reassuringly when the mute woman reached for it. The twins glared at John, who ignored the irate pair.

"We were not the only prisoners, Chief – er, Captain, sorry." John nodded for the man to continue. "That mining colony has our families on it. We were being moved, I think. Or..." He glanced at the two women and then grimaced. "Or something… when you got there."

"The mining colony on the asteroid?" John asked, tapping the table. Maximus immediately displayed all of the data they had been able to collect in their brief time near the colony. "It seemed deserted."

"It is – on the surface. But they had us working underground."

"How many?"

"Two hundred thirteen, at last count. But with those who died on the ship… One-hundred and eighty-six remain."

"Eighty-seven," Julia murmured, rubbing Maddy's distended belly pointedly. "Soon, at least."

"Eighty-seven," Jack repeated, nodding to the older woman respectfully. He turned back to John. "Please, sir – Captain – we have to rescue them. My wife is there, as are our children."

"How many guards are there?" John asked.

"Not many. They…" Jack rubbed his arm. "They controlled us in other ways." He glanced sympathetically at the two women. "Food, you know. If you acted out, no one was fed. And…" He cleared his throat. "The women…"

Julia snorted. "The women are kept pregnant until they pass the breeding age – if they survive that long," she said matter-of-factly. "Then they go into the mines for hard labor and die quickly. I was spared because I know how to deliver babies with a minimum of fuss. They don't like fuss."

"And the twins are engineers, I'm a biologist, and Dad's a mechanic," Jack added. "We were fed better, given lighter work. That's why we've survived the past years. No one with deep mining work lives more than a few months to a year; upper levels survive up to five years if they're lucky."

"They would need a constant supply of labor," Kent murmured, frowning. "Where are they getting it?"

"The children," Julia replied, eyes hard. "They bring in new blood every few months – they call themselves "fringers" – but they also breed their slaves."

"How many children are there?" John asked, frowning.

"Eighteen under six, thirteen between six and ten, eight between ten and fifteen, and five between fifteen and eighteen, six between eighteen and twenty-two-ish," Julia replied confidently. "They start work at six carrying water for the adults. Once the girls start menstruating, they get separated from the boys and work between deliveries – but lighter stuff."

"And how many able-bodied adults?"

"85 able-bodied adults, six women close to term," Jack replied, steepling his fingers. "Anyone who is not working is killed."

"How often do new slaves come in?" John asked.

"Every few months."

"When was the last delivery?"

"One-hundred and eighteen work days ago," Jack replied. "The schedule is on Eayn time. Not sure how that translates…"

"It would be nearly three months, if a work day is sunrise to sunset on Eayn," Maximus added.

"How many came in?"

"Forty-three," Jack replied. "Two died almost immediately; there are thirty-one left now."

John nodded, thinking. Julia and Maddy rose, the younger woman leaning on the older, and walked out, shaking off Jack's kind-voiced offer of assistance. Kent paged a nurse from the clinic to meet the pair in the hallway; judging by the sheen of sweat on Maddy's forehead and the damp spot on her dirty dress, she was either in labor or close to it. John was internally surprised by the calm way both mother and attendant handled the situation; he had expected something more dramatic.

"This will be Maddy's fifth," Jack murmured lowly, likely noting the way John glanced after the pair once the door slid shut. "And Julia's… Who knows?" The man attempted a wan smile.

"You should eat and rest," John told the group after gathering his scattered thoughts. He wondered if a warship was even equipped for birthing a baby, medically speaking. He doubted Schwartz had packed baby food. "We will begin to plan a rescue."

"You need our help," Jack protested.

"I will need your help, but not yet," John replied, standing. "First, you have to take care of yourselves. Rescues are no good if you rush in." John could remember losing his first friend, Sam, due to a moment's carelessness.

"Alright…" Jack stood as well; Russell levered himself to his feet with a grunt. The twins also stood after a moment to prove that they were not blindly following Jack. The group trooped out of the room with a shuffling gait as though they were used to walking around with short hobbles tied to their ankles.

Jack turned at the door. "Thank you," he told John. "When I saw that armor, I couldn't help but hope that we were going to be rescued… And you saved us."

"And we'll save your families as well," John replied.

"I hope so, sir."