Chapter Twenty-Eight: Captured Part I
March 10, 2553 1942 hours
Unknown Covenant warship
Unknown System
Several hours later, Laura began to return to consciousness. She left her eyes shut, feeling that it was safer to pretend to be out of it until she could ascertain what was what. As far as she could tell, she was on her back on a cold metal floor, her head was throbbing most unpleasantly, and there were a number of voices around her. All the voices were human, and all of them were nervous.
"I can't seem to wake her. They must've had to hit her hard."
"Knowing Blade, I wouldn't be surprised. She probably put up one hell of a fight."
"What do you think they want with her? They can't know she's a Spartan, can they?"
"Speculation isn't going to do any good, since we're all stuck here. Let's see if we can find a way out. How are our wounded doing?"
"Not so good. If we don't get them treated soon, they'll be dead before we can get out of this hellhole."
Laura's aching head finally put the facts together, not liking the conclusion: the Covenant had taken her captive, and she was now trapped in a cell with a number of other human prisoners, some of which were injured pretty badly. This could get real ugly, real fast. Better play it by ear for now. She heard footsteps stop in front of the cell and a number of her fellow prisoners retreating to the back. Still feigning unconsciousness, Laura sensed something stoop over her, smelt a foul odor and felt a weapon against her arm. She reacted quickly, with the speed only a Spartan was capable of, grabbing the weapon and putting it to the Elite's head as she twisted behind him; she trapped his legs with her own and snaked one arm around both of his, effectively immobilizing him while she pressed the plasma rifle deeper into his skull. Laura smirked at the Prophet on the other side of the cell doorway.
"I wouldn't try anything funny if I were you. If you try to send in more guards, I'll kill this one and use him as a shield, and then we'll have a weapon and a way out. Now, shall we talk about this peaceably, or do I need to aim at your head? I'd hate to have to resort to extremes."
"How dare you speak to me, vermin!" The Prophet's voice was filled with rage, but secretly he was afraid: the Elite she held at gunpoint was one of his most loyal and influential followers, one of the few who was able to maintain discipline among the lesser Elites with ease. To lose him to the human vermin would weaken his power base considerably.
"You are no more vermin than I am, so if you call me vermin, then that is what you are," Laura replied smoothly, her voice concealing the fury that burned within her. "We're really a lot alike, smart, arrogant, and each fearful of the other. Now, perhaps we can come to an arrangement."
"Blade, what the hell are you doing?" a fear-crazed Marine sputtered.
"Trying to save our necks." She didn't take her eyes off the Prophet. When she spoke again, her voice was hard and cold. "I want food, water, and medical care for these soldiers. And until we receive them, I'll be keeping your aide as a hostage. Don't worry, he won't be harmed. Once we receive food and proper medical treatment, I'll let him go. Yet I shouldn't need a hostage, for even you must know that living prisoners are far more valuable than dead ones."
"I shall consider your request." The Prophet left. Before allowing the Elite to sit down, Laura relieved him of his plasma rifle and pistol, tossing them to other prisoners.
"Keep an eye on him."
"Blade, why are we even sitting here? We could've gotten off this ship!"
"And just where would we have gone? We have no food or water, no knowledge of how to find our way around the inside this ship, and no idea how to fly one of their ships. Even if we did, the smaller ships don't have a Slipspace drive. We'd have gotten out of here only to die. At least here we have a slightly better chance of survival, for the time being. By negotiating with that Prophet, I may have bought us enough time to find a way to get home. If nothing else, it'll ensure our survival."
"Which does us no good if they plan to torture us to death."
"What would you rather I'd done, signed our death warrants? I'll find us a way out or die trying, that I can guarantee." She recognized a number of her tormenters on Earth who were in the cell with her, as well as several ODSTs. "Still think I'm a traitoress? If I were, I'd still be on Earth gathering intel for the Covenant. Not that they really need it anyway, the fact that they've got me here proves it."
"How did they catch you, anyway?" a young Navy captain asked.
"I allowed them to take me, because if I had fought back a good person might have been hurt. Even though I sent her away on a false errand, she could have heard any sound of combat and come back to try and help me. I needed to buy time for her to get out of the danger zone," Laura replied slowly, almost hesitantly, not knowing what they're reactions would be.
"You allowed them to kidnap you, just to save someone's life?" an ODST asked incredulously.
"For Nicole Mitchell, I'd do a hell of a lot more."
A few hours later, food and medical supplies were brought to the prisoners, at which point Laura allowed the Elite to leave the cell, minus his weapons. She knew very little about the supplies provided, but did what she could to treat the wounded. When a young private went into shock, she had no way to treat it; the only alternative was to slap his face to bring him around, which she did—actually, she drafted one of the other prisoners to do it, since her enhanced strength could easily have killed the kid. When the other prisoners slept, Laura kept watch alone, in case any Covenant soldiers decided to have fun with an unsuspecting prisoner; when she was tending the wounded, she made sure someone was keeping watch at the door. Over time, the prisoners grew stronger, and began to respect the soldier they used to call Blade the traitoress. They finally began to understand what made her tick: it wasn't hatred of humanity or the twisted alterations that ONI had done to her, but a thirst to prove herself human.
One night--or day, they'd begun to lose track of time inside the cell--Laura looked at her fellow prisoners. There was a grim look in her eyes as she glanced at the door of their cell.
"I think our captors are beginning to think about pumping us for information. I also think I'll be the first one they take: by destroying the leader, they conquer the followers. It's a common enough strategy, and also effective."
"Then what do you want us to do?"
"Do nothing, say nothing. If Earth falls, we lose a lot more than our home: we lose our families, our history, and our cultures. Remember, you are Marines, you swore an oath to defend Earth no matter the cost."
"What about you?"
"Me?" She snorted derisively, and spoke dryly enough to give off an air of not caring, but failed to hide the hurt look in her eyes. "I never existed, didn't you realize that? ONI erased my past as soon as I was conscripted at the ripe old age of four. I have no one who'll really miss me enough to ask where I am, no one who even knows my name. Only a few people know the truth about me, and they can't say or do anything to help me. Dying will be no big deal for me; I've been dead for almost 30 years." She laughed humorlessly. "As much as you hate me, it'll be easy for you to watch me die."
No sooner did she say this than a number of Covenant soldiers entered the room. Laura waited in the cell with her fellow prisoners in the Covenant cell, eyeing the approaching Elites. Only twelve? I'm insulted. She knew, though, that if she acted, her fellow prisoners would most likely die. As the Elites approached, she went to the force field and stared them down.
"What do you want, come to torture us for information? It will do no good."
"You will come with us," the lead Elite boomed, his voice uneasy with her language. Realizing she had no real choice, she walked out with them, following them to a control center where a Prophet and several armed warriors waited; some of the aliens looked like overgrown and extremely vicious monkeys. The monkey aliens—whom she now remembered were called 'Brutes'--grabbed her and held her tightly, too tightly, but she didn't even try to struggle, especially when she saw the headset they were bringing out. Ha, this'll backfire, Laura thought. She kept her face neutral as they jammed the device on her. The Prophet raised his claws to the ceiling and cried out a blessing she didn't understand, and the device was activated. The first thing they saw was a memory from her childhood:
She was bending over the lip of a large chest freezer, moving various frozen foods about, looking for frozen chicken. The door closed on top of her, since she didn't have the proper angle to hold it upright safely. Before she realized it, she was trapped in the freezer, with only her legs hanging out.
"Hey, help! Somebody get down here, I'm stuck!"
A thudding of feet became audible as her younger brother rushed downstairs. He let out a surprised burst of laughter. "What the heck?"
"Matt, just open the door and get me out of here!" She fought her annoyance as her brother rushed back upstairs, and then down again. There was a clicking, whirring noise, and then a hand gripped the freezer door and pulled it up. She glared at her younger brother, her mother standing just behind him, and at the camera she was holding.
"Not cool, Matt," she grumbled as she retrieved the chicken she'd found before the door had closed on her.
Almost as soon as that memory floated past, another one came into focus; while pleasant, this one was touched by sadness.
It was two days before she was scheduled to leave for the final phase of her training: the augmentation. She couldn't bear to think of leaving without saying goodbye to one of her dearest friends, and she knew it would be hard for both of them. Approaching the stables, she pulled out her panpipes and began to play, the lilting yet haunting tones carrying through the air. She turned the corner and saw a golden mare with dark brown mane and tail streaking to the fence.
"Hello, dear Corona," she smiled as she held out her hand: sitting in her open palm were some sugar cubes, a special treat. The mare eagerly accepted, then nuzzled her hand. She seemed to realize her human friend was troubled, and nudged her gently.
"Corona, I'll be going away for a while," she whispered softly, running one hand along the golden coat. "I'll come back, but I'll be…different. Needless to say, I'll be much too heavy to ride you anymore." A single tear rolled down her face as she contemplated what lay ahead of her. The mare nudged her shoulder gently, and she smiled.
"Dear friend, I'll be leaving in two days' time. I promise I'll still come visit you, but for now…" her dark eyes twinkled. "…how about one last ride?"
The golden mare reared up, neighing loudly, and jumped the fence in three quick strides. A gentle trot brought her back, and she nudged her shoulder again.
Mounting up bareback, she gently nudged her equine friend into a canter, a canter which soon changed to a furious gallop as they reached open plains. Her hair whipped out behind her like the horse's mane, and she crouched low along the mare's back. Their motions combined, until it seemed almost as one creature, one being. She knew that dark times lay ahead of her, but for this single, brief moment, she was free.
Laura opened her eyes as the memory faded, smirking at the Prophet. "So much for levity. How about something a little darker?"
Dark eyes scanned the forest around her as she moved towards the center of the rebel base. Her objective was the release of a captured military general, who had been exfiltrated some time ago. Years of training in stealth allowed her to blend in with the shadows as she made her way across the compound. The brig was nearby; ONI had provided accurate plans and layouts of the base. It all seemed too easy, but then again, most of them were. She still kept her eyes open, though; anything was possible in situations like these. Spotting her building, she slipped over to the doorway and began to pick the lock. Once inside, it was a simple matter to subdue the guards and move quietly down the cell block. She peered into every cell, looking for her objective. Finally, she found him, sleeping in a corner of his cell, back to a wall. The door was locked, of course, but for good measure there was also an unusually sophisticated motion-sensor system. Getting past that would be tough. She peered through the bars and whistled softly.
"General, wake up. Wake up, sir." The prisoner stirred, opening his eyes slightly, and started when he saw her there.
"What the hell? Who are you?"
"Your ticket out of here. Just give me a minute to figure out this motion sensor and we'll be gone." She looked hard at the device: custom made, and a very clever piece of work at that; none of the standard techniques would work here. Scanning the cell carefully, she wondered if there wasn't a way to bypass the device completely; without cutting tools, she couldn't cut a hole through the bars and lift him out, so the only option was to create a 'back door'.
"Sir, I can't disable this thing. I'll come around and let you out from the rear. Get away from the west wall and wait for it."
A few minutes later, she'd planted small amounts of C-4 explosive around the west wall of the general's cell. A pull on a remote blew a nice hole in the wall, and the general ran through.
"My apologies, sir, but I can get us out faster this way," she muttered and scooped the man over her shoulder, bolting for the perimeter she'd broken through earlier. Running to the Prowler she'd landed a few kilometers away, she heard gunfire behind her; not stopping for a moment, she bolted through the hatch and started the launch sequence, triggered the autopilot, and checked her passenger. He'd been hit as she'd run, and he was bleeding badly. She treated his wounds as best she could, and prayed they'd make it back in time.
The ship made it back to Earth in record time, and her passenger was taken for treatment. She breathed a sigh of relief: he was going to fine. As she relaxed, she saw an older man coming towards her; he looked mad.
"Blade, what the hell happened? How did he get hurt?"
"The rebels got smarter since the last scouting mission: they rigged a custom motion sensor in his cell, and there was no way I could get past it. I had to blow his cell, and carry him out of the base. They were shooting as I got to the Prowler, and I had no idea he'd been hit until after we cleared orbit."
"Does your incompetence know no bounds?" the man bellowed and then stalked away, leaving her upset and angry, though she knew not to show it. Better to pretend she felt nothing for now.
"Surprise, surprise," Laura smirked at her captors. "Never thought we'd see such similarities in our governments, eh?" Then a new memory drifted in front of her, one she hadn't anticipated: her testing of a similar memory device on a cruiser she and the Spartans had captured, her discovery of the Forerunner scientist's memories in her mind. Oh no you don't, you're not seeing all of that, she thought, and managed to stop the outflow, how she didn't know.
"Heresy!" the Prophet exclaimed.
"Hardly heresy, I certainly didn't imagine this scenario to be the case," Laura pointed out dryly. "You saw it for yourself, and if there's one, there must be more that I don't know." Then a new memory, one she definitely hadn't expected and certainly hadn't seen before, appeared before their eyes.
The young woman was working feverishly, her dark eyes sparkling with intensity as she finished the modifications to the circlet she was crafting. After finishing the work, she set it on her head, waited for a brief while, and removed it, a disappointed look on her face. So intent on her work, she never noticed the old Prophet behind her, watching, always watching.
"That did not work at all, so I must try again. Perhaps if the neuron flows were reversed and the electrical impulses were a bit higher… I must get it working first; once it works refinements can be made later. There, that's done, now see if it works."
She placed the circlet on her head and connected it to a holographic terminal. Once that was done, she thought of her beloved mother.
'Ama, Ama, wake up! Father's looking for you! Ama! Ama!' the child kept shaking her mother and calling, but the woman did not stir. The girl's crying brought her father in an instant, and there was a look on his face that scared her.
She pulled off the headset, tears running silently down her face; she had forgotten that long ago, but now it had returned to haunt her. Shaking her dark head, she happened to notice the Prophet waiting in the doorway.
"My apologies!" she stammered. "I had thought this laboratory was no longer in use. Forgive me; I will go elsewhere."
"This place is no longer used, child, but that does not mean no one ever comes in here," the Prophet's voice was stern and grave. "A standard maintenance check revealed that someone was using this place periodically, so we waited to see who it would be. What are you doing here, without leave?"
"I was trying to create something, sir," she said as she bowed her head in respect; she knew this old Prophet was a much-respected scientist, and felt awkward standing in his presence. "When I tried to obtain leave to work, they held off my request and it was forgotten. I thought since no one used this laboratory, I would be able to work without disturbing any other works."
"We shall discuss this later. What is you project?" The Prophet floated to the worktable and picked up the device, examining it with interest.
"I was hoping to create a memory device: a way for people who have lost their memories to find them again. My mother was a healer, and I learned quickly what happens to those who are too old, and how much they hated it sometimes. I wanted to help them remember."
"A noble effort, child, but how do you imagine being able to accomplish this on your own? Why did you not bring a proposal to the other scientists?"
"They would have laughed, no doubt. Besides, why promise results when there's a strong chance of failure? I had no idea that this would work, and was reluctant to say anything until I was sure. Failure comes with science, but shame is horrible to endure."
"Indeed. It is remarkable for a young human such as yourself to have come so far on your own. You are new to this field?"
She smiled a little at that. "In a sense, yes, and in another, no. My mother taught me much before she passed on, but I only achieved my status a few months ago."
"Curious. May I ask who your mother was?"
"Fara, the healer." The old Prophet's dark eyes widened at the name; Fara was legendary among the scientific and medical communities, and her passing many years ago had been mourned by all. He recalled the funeral ceremony: there had been a warrior and two young children beside the grave.
"If Fara was your mother, your father is General Petrarch of the military." The woman nodded. "You come from a good family."
"My thanks, sir," she replied softly.
"Please, if you are a scientist you must learn to call others by name."
"We were always taught to be respectful of our elders and betters…Thaddeus," she said with no small amount of hesitance.
"And your name?" Thaddeus asked as the young woman gathered her tools and prepared to leave.
"Alaya."
The memory vanished, leaving several surprised Covenant warriors, and a slightly amused Laura. She was the only one unsurprised by the vision, having seen something similar before.
"Not bad for a heresy, eh? How could I lie if you saw the evidence for yourself?"
"Silence! We will not hear your lies. Remove her," the Prophet commanded. She was picked up and dragged to the cell, and thrown in roughly. Her fellow prisoners looked at her once the Brutes had left, and she had picked herself up.
"What happened?" a Marine asked.
"Attempted interrogation. Let's leave it at that."
