Chapter 2: Traitor
Date: 20 October 2552
Location: Outskirts of Old Mombasa, Kenya, Earth
Braille. 117.
I glanced up to stare at my own, unknown reflection in the golden-orange visor of 117's helmet. When he stood to his full height he offered me a hand-up. We both turned at the sound of footfalls quickly approaching. They were Marines having finally caught up to the-
"Spartan! Nice work!" one called.
"Yeah, Chief! Without you our slow asses would've only been able to watch." I looked at the dark skinned man with a gruff voice. One term came to mind upon sight.
In-charge.
"Yes, thank you… Chief." I said, turning to the man of the hour. I had meant to sound strong, brave even, but my voice betrayed me with its softness.
Someone barked an immature laugh, "Well with a voice like that there's no way yer a Marine! So, who are ya?"
"And what are you wearing?!" a third called.
"That's enough gawking Marines!" the leader shouted. "Stay alert and for God's sake someone find her some armor!"
Everyone snapped to work. A couple Marines went rifling through packs. Some copied Spartan 117 by reloading their weapons and restocking ammunition. A medic approached me and lead me away from the group for a brief examination.
"Everything appears to be normal. How did you come to be here? Were you a part of recon?" he asked.
"Damn, Bobby. Did you even introduce yourself before interrogating her?" the dark skinned man interjected. Turning to me he asked, "What's your name little lady? I'm Sergeant Major Avery Johnson. I'm in charge of these mongrels." He lit a cigar.
"I hate to disappoint you all," I started but hesitated when 117 joined the group.
117. Spartan. Master Chief.
"It's alright. Chief's one of us." Bobby assured me.
Followed by a humorous, "We think." The comedian received a swift punch in the shoulder.
I couldn't help but smile as I stared into the Master Chief's visor again, "No, it's fine. I just…" my frown returned.
"You don't remember me." Chief stated more than asked.
"I don't remember anything. We've met?... which isn't something easily forgotten I imagine." I swallowed, mouth feeling dry. "What's my name?"
"Jayne," he stated shortly. Turning to Sergeant Johnson, he asked, "May I have a word?" They stepped aside and a Marine approached with full hands.
"Hi Jayne, I'm Mack Sutherland. Here's some armor since it looks like you'll be stuck with us for a while." I made quick work of donning the attire.
"Marines! Prepare to head out! Jayne, come join me and the Chief for a minute." Sergeant Johnson called.
"Jayne, you truly don't remember anything?" He asked as I arrived.
"No," I bit my lip as I met his warm, regretful eyes. Taking a deep breath I pushed my self-pity aside. "It's insanity. I know things, but I don't know why or how I came to know them."
"Like what?"
"Well, the names of things… warthog, Sangheili, plasma grenade…" I looked at Chief as I continued, "and I can read braille, or at least the braille on your chest plate."
The Spartan's head turned slightly in my direction as he spoke, "When we first met you were a cadet in the Corbulo Academy of Military Science. You mentioned a focus in linguistics… you may have continued studies in that direction."
Master Chief's helmet shifted down and to the side as if he was listening to something. In that get-up he very well could have been without anyone realizing.
"But no memories have returned?" Johnson asked, thinking deeply.
"No," I replied, "is something the matter, sir?"
"You have been branded a traitor." I blinked at Johnson's words. Ignorant of my escalating inner turmoil, he plowed ahead, "You were part of a recon group… the mission failed; no survivors. That is, until you were witnessed killing Marines on multiple occasions since your disappearance."
My breath hitched and I looked to Chief for some grounding. The stranger reflected back at me provided none.
"We don't think you'll turn on us now…" he continued.
"But later I might remember," I finished breathlessly, meeting those tired brown eyes again. He nodded.
"Unfortunately, we can't take the chance." Sergeant Johnson pulled out wrist restraints.
"Understood," I replied quietly, turning my back and putting my wrists together.*
"Sergeant," the Master Chief cut in, "perhaps out here it would be best to cuff her hands in front."
"I was thinking the same, Spartan." Johnson turned me around to cuff me. "Chief, stay here with Jayne while I brief the team."
I kept my back to the group not wanting to see the reactions or meet the stares. The Spartan stood at a reserved distance from me and I found myself desperately wanting to know what he was thinking. I looked up at him which caused him to look down from his over 7ft to me.
"What's my last name?" I asked simply.
"Lasky."
Lasky.
His head did that thing again where it turned slightly to the side and down. I couldn't help but wonder what he heard.
"Did I know your name?" He shook his head and I nodded dumbly.
"Alright Marines! Time to push those dirty Covenant bastards back to their ship. Let's move out!" Sarge boomed.
The Master Chief and Johnson led the way. I fell into step at the middle of the formation without prodding. I knew it was the best spot for me and for the team, both for my protection and observation.
Traitor.
The word echoed through my mind as I stared down at my tied hands, vision clouding with unwanted tears.
*Admittedly I haven't done much research into amnesia. Any liberty I take (such as expecting Jayne to know to turn around to be cuffed) I excuse away because of how she came to have amnesia. :)