Chapter 6 – Negotiations
Yay, chapter six already! How time flies.
General Fulamee stared intensely at the screen in front of him. His hands skimmed across the holographic board, giving commands out faster than any human could. Then he paused ready to press the final button.
Click.
The layout of a typical human bridge spread across the screen. He resisted grinning: the last time he'd negotiated with this ship they had some serious casualties…
A familiar white dressed human looked up at the screen.
"Not you again," it sighed. "What is it now? Centaurs?"
"Negotiations," General Fulamee corrected him, his voice deep.
At this the human smiled.
"Is it about that wonderful Elite of yours?" it asked.
"No, the Fury," Fulamee told him. "We are willing to trade in two of your demons for the one Fury."
He paused a moment to let the filthy creature soak the thought in.
"Is that not…fair in your terms?" General Fulamee asked.
"Not by your terms," it replied. "Where's the catch?"
"No catch, just rules," Fulamee told it. "Leave the Fury on a planet of your choice. Tell us where and we'll arrange it."
"You seem pretty sure we'll agree," the human said.
"It's in your nature to want your own back," Fulamee responded.
"Of course," it grunted. "I think I'll get back to you on that proposal of yours."
"Be swift," Fulamee growled and terminated communications.
Fulamee stretched unable to resist the smile that came.
"Fools."
The Navigator swivelled in his chair to face the Admiral. "Did he just warn us or threaten us?"
"I think a meeting is in order," the Admiral said, a frown creasing his forehead.
Tisiphone listened to the quiet and stared into the darkness.
It's not like she wasn't prepared for capture. It's the fact she could barely move was the problem. And without her helmet she could not give voice commands. But yet there were a few more options and she was about to use one. It was just a matter of when.
She waited a little longer until she felt the lack of control would drive her mad.
Tisiphone clenched one fist and pressed a button on her wrist with the other. She took a deep breath and relaxed.
A shrill, continuous tone alerted the two technicians. They jumped up as it sounded, and immediately started searching for an explanation. Along the control boards lights flashed and beeping joined the chaos.
"Everything's just stopped," one called. "No heartbeat, no breathing, no brainwaves, nothing."
"Look for a glitch in the software!" the other shouted glancing from the monitors to the Elite.
A soldier walked alongside the two frantic workers, scanning the screens. A Spartan followed, also searching for a reason the Elite suddenly died.
"Get the medic," the Spartan ordered.
"Nobody is going to go near that thing!" the soldier cried aloud.
"That's an order!" the Spartan yelled over the siren.
The soldier stumbled out of the room.
The Spartan hit a button causing the Elite to fall onto the pedestal. The screeching died down and the beeping followed.
"Abwabwah onba," a voice said, coming from the Elite's suit.
"Tell me that's the life support," the Spartan pleaded and strode over to the Elite.
He looked it over and waved his hand in front of the Elite's lifeless face, just in case. Then he pulled off his glove, his hand hovered over its mandibles.
"Not breathing!" he told the technicians.
Another Spartan came beside the first. She went to take off the armour but yelped as the shield shocked her. The first Spartan looked at her quizzically and she looked back, grasping her hand.
Every millisecond seemed like precious hours wasted. The Spartan was relieved to see a doctor rush in. Scanner in hand, the doctor placed a typical first aid box onto the stand. He ran the scanner along the Elite's lifeless body and frowned.
"Sorry, there's nothing I can do," he told them.
"What about putting it into the recovery position?" a technician suggested.
"And what is it recovering from?" the doctor asked.
"I was hoping you could tell me," he answered.
"The 'clear', electric thingy with the two things?" the other technician tried, flapping his arms in an attempt to get the right word.
The group just stared at him quizzically.
"What about defibrillation?" a Spartan asked.
"The shield would absorb it and if it had life support then it would've acted by now," the doctor replied, shaking his head.
"Mouth to mouth?" a soldier chipped in.
"I think it would rather slice off it's mandibles," the second Spartan replied.
"And we are respecting it's dead views why?" another soldier quizzed.
"Who wants to tell the General?" the first Spartan asked.
"Trap," the Admiral said leaning back in his chair.
"I agree, the Covenant would never trade," a General agreed.
"Unless the Elite is special," a second General said.
"I kind of figured that," the Admiral replied.
"Or they want to give the prisoners back," a Commander suggested.
"Why would they want to do that?" the first General asked with a chuckle, leaning on one side of his padded seat.
"Plenty of reasons," the Commander answered. "Bomb, hypnotism, to get someone back. Or all of the above."
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," the Admiral replied.
A soldier came in and saluted.
"At ease, Lieutenant. What is it?" the Admiral sighed.
"General Jameson is asking for you on the bridge, Sir," the Lieutenant told him.
"Can't it wait?" the Admiral asked.
"He says it's urgent, Sir," the Lieutenant informed him.
"Alright, Lieutenant I'll be there in a minute," the Admiral replied.
He watched the Lieutenant salute and leave before slowly getting up.
"Best not to keep the General waiting," he said.
The bridge was bustling with activity, people chatting to one another about something. When the Admiral entered with the two Generals and the Commander silence swiftly followed.
On the large screen that dominated most of the front of the room General Jameson was waiting. The Admiral twitched with irritation as he noticed how grim the General looked.
"Admiral," he said, his voice echoing from hidden speakers.
"General," the Admiral replied with a nod. "What was so urgent that you should call me from a meeting?"
"I have…" the General winced before completing his sentence. "I have grave news."
"Just bring it to me straight," the Admiral told him.
"The captive has kind of…retired," the General informed him, struggling to find the perfect words.
Not exactly as straight as I had hoped, the Admiral thought to himself.
"It's escaped?" he asked.
"Er, no."
"Blown up?"
"Along those lines," the General answered.
"So the captive has sort of blown up?" the Admiral tried.
"Well it's certainly dead," the General told him.
"How did it die?" the Admiral asked.
"Now the funny thing is, we don't know," the General answered.
"You don't know?" the Admiral questioned.
"It was fine one second, dead the next," the General told him with a slight laugh.
"I see…" the Admiral murmured. "Well thank you General you've made a lot of choices a lot easier."
The General nodded and the screen went back to stars and blackness. The Admiral thought for a minute. He turned to the two men working at the communications desk.
"Call back that Elite," he ordered.
"But, Sir the Elite is dead," a General protested.
"The Elite did not say anything about the Fury being alive, General Lowen," the Commander told him.
"Exactly, Commander, we'll make a General out of you yet," the Admiral said with a smile.
The General looked grouchily at the Commander managing to keep his envious looks discrete.
The screen showed an Elite busy watching other monitors. As it turned around the monitor caught his eye, startling the Elite.
"Hello sunshine," the Admiral said.
The Elite narrowed his eyes and his mandibles jerked slightly. He looked at the Admiral with unmatched hate.
"What is it, filth?" it growled looking down at the Admiral.
"We've decided to accept your offer," the Admiral informed it.
At this the Elite seemed to lighten up and it relaxed, leaning back in it's chair.
Behind the Admiral General Lowen shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.
"Unah, in the Derrimeus System," the Admiral stated. "One ship, two Elites, unarmed are allowed on the planet. Understood?"
"Perfectly," the Elite purred.
The screen went blank and the Admiral smiled as the Elite vanished. He turned to Commander Alm beside him.
"Inform the General of the arrangement," he ordered.
Kalamee spun around in his hovering chair. Brooding in the dark room lit only by the humming control panel. Kalamee stared at a screen showing glittering stars, a glimmering dust cloud and a Covenant armada. He sighed appreciatively.
Patience's image sprang onto the screen, catching Kalamee by surprise. He jerked upright and cursed loudly in his head. Kalamee bowed extremely low in an attempt to hide his alarm.
"Mighty Prophet Patience…" He managed a muffled response.
"General Kalamee," the Prophet said in return. "The humans contacted you."
Kalamee forced his face into a blank expression before raising his head. He resisted growling in annoyance at the amusement in the Prophet's croaky voice. Patience out of all the Prophets was definitely the most irritating. Pushing his emotions aside Kalamee continued his report.
"Yes," Kalamee replied. "They have arranged the trade."
"Good," Patience said, sobering sharply. "Make sure there are no mistakes this time." Patience narrowed his eyes. "Or it will be your body trailing through the streets."
"Of course Mighty Patience," Kalamee replied, bowing for a second time.
The screen blinked, showing the armada once more. Interest sprang up inside him at how Patience knew he had watched the punishment. Then the answer came to him and he laughed.
Divine knowledge! I wonder how many bugs he has on my devices…
Shortie chap! I would never stop to post if I didn't stop here. Anyway, cheers for reading.
Question: Is anything different to the previous chaps? Don't look too hard on it.