Chapter 52: Uncle 104
Smith looked shaken, his knees wobbling as if he had been at sea for a year and was just now stepping back on dry land for the first time, hands grabbing at the back of the seats as he tried to pull himself towards the cockpit. The other soldiers were much the same way, their gear and helmets scattered in the aisle, making Smith's task of walking that much more difficult. If this had not been the case, the Agent may have noticed the fire burning in Fred's eyes.
"What happened up there?" Smith asked. "I saw a flash. Is Black Mesa…"
"Give me the briefcase," Fred demanded, his voice toneless. He reached out a hand towards Smith. "The file on Subject 117."
Smith glanced at the briefcase in his hand. "You know it's classified above your clearance level."
"You want me to help you," Fred reasoned. "If I do than I need to see the file."
But why 117? Smith thought. He looked over Fred's shoulder towards the cockpit. Something happened up there. Something other than us almost crashing. It was the fact that Fred asked for Subject 117's file specifically that brought the sudden realization on. He knows.
He looked back at Fred, suddenly seeing the murderous look in his eye, and an expression on his face that said, Give it to me, or I'll take it from you.
Seeing no other way out of the situation without needless bloodshed, Smith opened the briefcase. He thumbed through the files inside, pulling out a white folder with a tab on the top that said Subject 117, and handed it to Fred.
The Spartan could feel the soldiers staring at him, could sense their hands gripping their rifles tighter, heard the click of a few safeties being turned off. Fred could smell their fear. They all had some idea of what exactly he was.
He ignored them, opening up the file and reading through. The name on the top of the page did not surprise him, or what came underneath it.
NAME: John Roland Toren
KNOWN ALIASES: Jack, Jonathan
AGE: 7
BIRTHDATE: 08/15/1945
RACE: White
ETHNICITY: English/Dutch
HAIR COLOR: black
EYE COLOR: Blue
The birth date did surprise him somewhat. According to Smith, it was the exact date that the Spirit of Fire starting appearing on Groom Lake. He skipped through the height and weight, ignored the medical records, and continued to flip through the pages until something caught his attention.
KNOWN INTELECTUAL, PSYCHIC, TELEKINETIC, AND TELEPATHIC ABILITES
(All abilities are measured on a 1 to 10 scale)
ESTIMATED IQ: 220*
PSYCHIC: 4
PSYCHIC POTENTIAL: 10
TELEKINETIC: 5
TELEKINETIC POTENTIAL: 10**
TELEPATHIC: 8
TELEPATHIC POTENTIAL: 10
(For full details of study see Appendix C)
Fred noticed the asterisks in the Intelligence and Telekinetic sections. Scanning down to the bottom of the page he found the footnotes.
*Current tests cannot accurately measure IQ above 220, making Subject 117's true intelligence effectively immeasurable.
**Subject 117 may have the potential to develop Ultimate Telekinesis. This is the ability for a telekinetic person to cease the life functions of another individual using only their minds. This ability is exceedingly rare, occurring in only 0.0019% of the population . Subjects who develop Ultimate Telekinesis almost always discover the ability by accident, often unintentionally killing close relatives or friends.
Now Fred understood why both North Central and ONI found Jack to be so valuable. The mere possibility of the child developing this Ultimate Telekinesis would be enough for any military to salivate over. The Spartan skipped through the appendixes, and when he landed on the section containing a copy of Jack's birth certificate, he saw Smith tense apprehensively. Fred read the certificate, his mind nearly freezing when he came across two names.
John Eric Toren
Cortana Miranda Halsey
Cortana, he thought, thinking back to John's AI. That was the problem right there. She was just an AI, nothing more than a hologram and some programming created by Dr. Halsey. It was beyond impossible, beyond not making sense. John and Cortana had been a good team, but for the Master Chief to develop romantic feelings for a mere computer program, an individual that was not feeling real. It had to be a coincidence, had to be the product of impending insanity on Fred's part. But the evidence was clear, the coincidences too numerous for Fred to deny. Cortana had somehow become human, had somehow come to this time period. Jack was her son, but more importantly to Fred, Jack was…"
"His son." The Spartan's voice had become a growl, and Fred almost did not recognize it at his own. Like all the Spartans he had been excellent at hiding and suppressing his emotions, but now something new was stirring in him. Righteous furry and anger threatening to consume him.
"Subject 117," Fred said, dropping the folder and holding the birth certificate up to Smith's face. "He's John's son."
"You're going have to be more specific," Smith said. The deliberate ignorance he was displaying only enraged Fred more.
The Spartan took a step forward, crumbling the certificate in his hand. Without warning he lashed out at Smith, grabbing the man by the collar, hauling him over the seats, and slamming him hard against the window. "You knew the Master Chief was here. You knew that Subject 117 was his son, and you were trying to get me to help you kidnap him."
Like a chorus of crickets the soldiers on the plane clicked their safeties off at once. Fred felt the cold barrel of one of the rifles press against the back of his head, but his eyes remained locked on Smith, his grip on him not faltering. Smith brought up a hand and waved it in a stand down gesture. Fred felt the rifle barrel reluctantly withdraw from the back of his head. Smith looked at him. "I didn't know, not for certain."
"Don't lie to me," Fred said, his voice still in the low growl.
"I'm not," Smith replied calmly. "I'll admit, I did know that a Spartan was here, but I didn't know which one or that Jack was his son."
There was truth in Smith's eyes, and it blunted Fred's anger. Still he said, "I'm not letting you take him."
"Fred," Smith said, placing a hand on the Spartan's arm. "We are in the middle of a Cold War with the Soviet Union. On the brink of a nuclear holocaust. Your people understood that kidnapping children in order to save the lives of millions was the right thing to do. How can you deny us the ability to do the same when we have millions of lives at stake?"
"There won't be a nuclear war," Fred asserted. It was the first time the Spartan had ever given Smith any information about the future. "The United States and the Soviet Union never go to war with each other. There is no reason to take them."
"How do you know?" Smith asked. "How do you know that you're not in some alternate timeline, or that the reason that there was no nuclear war was because you came back to the past and did something that helped prevent it from happening? How do you know for certain? I have to work under that uncertainty. The risks are too great for me to take your words for granted."
Fred shook his head. "You want to kidnap children and train them for war, and you have no idea what war is like. No idea what you will put them through."
"No idea?" Smith asked. His voice had risen, his normally calm demeanor broken by Fred's words. He stood up, Fred allowing him to do it, and although Smith was a head shorter than Fred the Agent still looked intimidating. His words were hot and angry. "I know too well what war is like. I know what it's like to be just a kid and go off to fight a war. I know what it's like to have your best friend dying in your arms. Only sixteen and crying out for his mother as his blood pours out of him. I know what it's like to see the British come into Dublin with their machine guns and their tanks and mow innocent people down like they were nothing but clay pigeons. I know what it's like to arrest a thirteen year old boy for treason. A child whose only crime was giving information to the British in exchange for just enough money to keep his family from starving to death. I know what it's like to take that boy out to the glen and blow his brains out, because that's what your orders were!"
Fred had never actually seen Smith angry, and the tumultuousness of this new emotion was enough to figuratively throw him back on his heels. Smith's face was red, his fists trembling. The Agent looked down at the grown, and when he spoke his voice was filled with shame. "I know what it's like to bayonet your own brother in the gut. To stand over him while he lies there bleeding to death." He brought his head up, his eyes brimming with tears. "Don't you ever tell me I don't know what war is like." He took a step forward, his chest and Fred's nearly touching. "I was there when they tested the first Atomic Bomb, and I've regretted my part in helping to build it ever since. I know what kind of danger mankind is in, and I will do anything to prevent a nuclear war from happening."
Fred's own anger had cooled. For the first time he felt like he understood Smith, understood his motivations, the man never having spoken of his past before now. But the Spartan could not allow Smith, could not allow ONI, to do what they were planning. For the love of the Man Jesus, it was John's son they were talking about. "I can't let you take him."
Smith glanced over at the soldiers who were surrounding them. "You're the one that gave us the inspiration."
"I did," Fred said regretfully. He could not kill all of them. Even if he managed to take down a few he would be riddled with bullets within the first ten seconds. Fred racked his brain. He was stuck in this time period, his only hope of getting home destroyed, but perhaps there was a reason for it. If ONI was going to get their hands on Jack no matter what, then perhaps there was some way he could help him. "The Spartan IIs and IIIs all began training when they were children." Smith raised an eyebrow, wondering where Fred was going with this. Fred took a breath. "And then there were the Spartan IVs."
…
8:12 P.M., August 17th 1952 (Gregorian Calendar) Residency of Cortana Toren, Hell's Kitchen, New York, New York
Cortana mumbled under her breath as she went to answer the door. John was not due back until tomorrow morning, and she wondered angrily who was disturbing them at this hour. She was in the middle of a chess match with Jack, and she was confident that this time she would actually manage to beat the little squirt. She was up in pieces, Jack having just sacrificed one of his rooks which Cortana swiftly took with a pawn. She now had two rooks, a queen, a bishop, and knight to Jack's single rook, knight, queen, and bishop. Still, Cortana could not shake the feeling that Jack was trying to lure her into a trap, the little brat or squirt as she sometimes called him affectionately whenever they played being especially devious when it came to strategy.
In fact, now that Cortana thought about it, Jack sacrificing the rook actually gave him greater command of the board, opening up the playing field and allowing for a greater number of attacks. Well, I just won't let that happen, she thought. Cortana turned the lock and opened the door. "I'm sorry but whatever your selling we're not…" she stopped mid sentence, noticing right away the white collar of a priest on the man's neck.
The priest smiled. "Sorry, but I'm not a salesman. You're just going to have to settle for a middle age priest." He chuckled at his own joke and stuck out his hand. "My name is Father Corridan."
Cortana gave her own wary smile and shook the offered hand. "Cortana. Corridan, you're the man John helped the other day down on the waterfront."
Corridan's smile grew wider. "Well I'm glad I found the right place." He let go of Cortana's hand and gestured into the apartment. "May I come in?"
"Of course." Cortana led him in, introducing him to Jake and Diana who were sitting on the couch. If Cortana was worried about how the goddess might react to the priest's presence, it was dispelled immediately. Diana acted warmly to Corridan, shaking his hand firmly and smiling politely.
"I've heard a lot about you," Diana said. "It's admirable what your trying to do on the waterfront."
Corridan shook his head. "Please, don't confuse idiocy with bravery. It's a good thing I can't get married. I don't think there is a woman alive who could put up with me."
Diana gave a polite laugh, as if she was at a fancy formal dinner instead of a low rent apartment. Jake, for his part, smiled but remained quiet.
"May I ask what brings you here?" Cortana asked.
"Yes," Corridan said. He pointed at Jack who was hunched over the chess board at the kitchen table. "I've actually come to talk about him."
Jack looked up, blinking at Corridan as if he just realized he was there. "Me?"
Corridan nodded. He moved to the table, sitting at one of the seats.
Cortana sat across of Jack and looked down at the board. Looking back up at Jack she thought, you devious little bastard. Instead of doing what Cortana had expected him to do, taking Cortana's pawn which had captured the rook with his queen and thus placing her king in check, Jack had instead moved his last rook up to the second to last row in the board, directly across from her queen. If Cortana took the rook with her queen, it would allow Jack to move his own queen further up the board without fear of it being taken. He would be able to chase her king into a corner where it could be trapped between his queen and his knight and opening up for a checkmate.
"Chess," Corridan remarked, almost nostalgically. "My mother used to call it the game of kings."
"It is," Cortana agreed. She put her focus back on the game. Seeing no other option she moved her king down diagonally, and within the next move Jack put her in check.
"You should have done that move first," Jack said nonchalantly.
"What do you mean?"
Jack pointed at the board. "You shouldn't have taken my rook when I put it next to your pawn. If you had moved your king down to begin with it would have been better protected . Taking out my rook gave me more options than I would have had."
Corridan listened to the banter. Turning to Jack he said, "You have an amazing gift."
"It's just chess," Jack said, but Corridan shook his head.
He pointed to his temple. "I'm talking about in here."
"Oh," Jack said, surprised at the compliment. "Thanks."
"I don't mean to sound rude Father, but what brought you here?" Cortana asked.
Corridan cleared his throat. "After John showed up at the waterfront and helped me I began asking around about him. At first it was because I had never seen him before, and I know nearly everyone who works at the docks. Then I discovered that he had been living here with you for the past two months." He saw Cortana glance at his white collar, almost nervously, but Corridan smiled at her. "I'm not here to berate you Mrs. Toren. I may disagree with what you are doing, but there are enough evil men like Greene in the world to keep from worrying about petty things like this. Besides, Christ taught us judge not lest ye be judged."
"Mathew chapter seven verse one," Cortana said, and Corridan beamed at her. "For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you." She gave a small blush of embarrassment. "In my younger days I used to have the whole thing memorized."
"Your memory still seems excellent to me," Corridan complimented.
Beside her Diana heard Jake give a small chuckle. Diana could understand, Corridan having no idea how literally Cortana was being.
"Anyway," Corridan said, continuing. "I believe that one act of charity deserves another. Everyone I've talked to told me how close John has gotten to Jack." He reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out what looked like a brochure. "And they've also told me how bright Jack was." He set the brochure down on the table and opened it up. "Trinity. It's private Catholic school, but more importantly it's an Ivy League preparatory school." He looked at Cortana. "If your son goes here, there is no limit to the amount of opportunities that will be presented to him." Cortana opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand. "I know it's expensive, but I do happen to have some sway with the board there. If I give Jack my recommendation he'll be given a scholarship. A full ride to attend, as well as stipends to help with purchasing uniforms and textbooks. It's only given to a very small handful of students, and I can't think of a better candidate."
Cortana looked down at the brochure. "It's a Catholic school though, and we're not exactly religious."
Corridan leaned back in his chair. "He does not have to be baptized Catholic, but he will be required to attend mass every Sunday and take religious studies. I'll understand if that makes you uncomfortable."
Cortana nodded her head. "Jack, this is up to you."
Jack slid the brochure over to him, reading it thoughtfully. The room was silent for several minutes until he finished. "Sure," he said, and smiled. "Sounds like fun."
Cortana laughed, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "Alright, what do we have to do?"
"I'll bring an application for attmitance and one for the scholarship over tomorrow," Corridan said. "It'll just be a formality though. With my word backing him, I guarantee Jack will be a shoe in."
"I'll take your word on it," Cortana said. They stood up and shook hands. After Cortana led him out she went back to sit with Jack.
"He seemed nice," Diana said.
"Reminds me of someone we used to know," Jake commented.
Cortana knew Jake was thinking of Callahan, and nodded in agreement. Cortana knew that she would never agree with religion, could never agree to it thanks to the fanaticism of the Prophets, but her views of it were far less negative thanks to people like Callahan, Rosalita, and now Corridan.
Jack was busy fingering his bishop, rocking it back and forth. "Aunt Rose would have liked me going to Trinity."
"I'm sure she would have," Cortana said comfortingly. "I bet she would have been proud."
"Yeah," Jack said, placing his elbow on the table and putting his head in his hand. "I miss her."
Cortana gave him a sad smile. "Me too Jack." She looked down at the board.
"You should give up now," Jack said. "Its ten moves to checkmate."
"Sorry to disappoint," Cortana said, giving him an evil smirk. "But I think it's time I taught you what it's like to lose."
Jack sighed as Cortana took one of his pawns, doing exactly what he expected her to. "If you say so."
…
6:15 A.M., August 18th 1952 (Gregorian Calendar) Hell's Kitchen, New York, New York
It was early in the morning, the fog rolling in off of the Hudson, and John stood outside of the apartment building, a piece of yellow notebook paper in his hand. It was the note that the writer had given him, and slowly John read over the words again. He turned it over, reading the post script, the two sentences that Cortana could never read, lest Selena's punishment of hope burn her alive.
Jack going to Vietnam is inevitable. Fred will help him.
The Master Chief tore the note in half. He placed the two halves on top of one another and tore it again. He continued to tear it until the yellow note was nothing more than pieces of confetti. He opened up the palm of his hand, and a strong breeze began to blow. It lifted up the remnants of the note, taking the shattered pieces to wherever ka willed.
