The Rabbit and the Wolfe
Not much to say here. Just the usual 'sorry it took me so long' excuse. Bla bla bla. You've heard it a million times, I know. Enjoy and don't forget to favorite and follow. Let me know what you think. I really enjoy hearing your thoughts, opinions and possibilities of future chapters.
21: Shock to the System
December 25, 2561
Hillcrest Forward Operating Base
Humanity Mall, Tribute
Epsilon Eridani System
2230 hours
Megan was not one to drink in excess. Her father enjoyed the company of the alcoholic variety far more than his family, irreversibly exiling himself in her eyes. But despite her sour disposition towards drinking, she did enjoy her fair share of hangovers in college. This - was an entirely different beast. Light streamed from its perch directly overhead, painfully poking and prodding her eyes with its touch. Wincing from the intensity, she squeezed her eyes tighter, turning away in an effort to block out the harsh phosphorescence. Instinctively, she raised an arm to shield herself. Or, she tried to. Her muscles felt stiff and heavy, like stone.
"Uhhhh..." A weak croak escaped her lips, faltering in its efforts to reach the other end of the tent. Trained ears picked up the familiar sound, the dull thump of purposeful steps drew louder as the figure approached, reverberating painfully inside her skull.
"Easy there." He said, stepping into her light, something she was immensely grateful for as it provided a modicum of relief from the steady throbbing of her head. "You're coming off a lot of polly-sue."
Polly-sue. She had heard the word before, but where? And from whom? "Huh?" Her thoughts were as clear as mud.
"Goddamn Spartan juiced you with enough of the stuff to drop an elephant!" Spartan? What is he on about? He continued on, ignorant of her internal struggle. "Came in here, dumped you on one of my beds, told me to 'fix you' and left without so much as a thank you." Though he grumbled and complained, it was clear he wouldn't be leaving her side anytime soon. The seconds ticked by, each one chirping in the same fashion as her great grandmother's archaic tower clock. She opened her eyes a fraction, revealing a young, roguish face which sat under a mat of messy blonde hair. With a strong jaw and bright blue eyes, she would go so far as to call him handsome, maybe even gorgeous. The only thing that took away from his dashing looks was the white, battle-scarred combat armor that he wore. Faded, though the paint may be, the red cross stamped upon the shoulder answered one of Megan's unspoken questions.
"You're a doctor?" He released a long-suffering sigh before matching her curious gaze.
"Corpsman. I'm Navy." She processed this new information.
"So, like a medic?" Frowning, he fixed her with a perturbed look.
"Something like that." His mussed hair shifted subtly as he looked at the entrance, as if waiting for someone. "Bloody civilians." Without another word, he left, placing the data pad on a nearby table. Now alone, she looked about the room with passing interest. The prefabricated, drab olive walls were a far cry from the scenic murals that adorned her own home. Home. It was safe, far from the bloody, grim battlegrounds upon which she found herself. A place where daisies grew in fields of green velvet, swaying in time with the breeze. Children didn't choke on the stench of the dead and dying, and the sky was a rich blue, untainted by the sounds of jet engines and the scream of falling bombs. The need to return home was strong, almost desperate, as it clawed its way up her throat. To get away from…all this. They say time heals all wounds, but a good therapist couldn't hurt. She felt the first tears trickle down her cheeks, leaving wet, salty trails for the rest to follow. Her heart ached for all the people who lost their lives. For her friends and family, who must be worried beyond belief. And most of all, for the children who were swept up in this needless fighting. With a heavy heart, she curled into a ball and quietly cried herself to sleep. The nightmares would soon follow.
Linda excelled at everything she did. She forced herself to, not only for herself, but for her team. Because one wrong move could spell the difference between mission success and catastrophic failure. And failure was not an option. Ever. She would train and train and train until it became second nature. But striving to be the embodiment of perfection was not a chore to her, it was routine. During the War's formative years, the UNSC, and humanity as a whole, placed an unthinkable amount of pressure on her and the other Spartan-II's. But true to form, they adapted remarkably well, even by Halsey's standards, going on to turn the tide against the Covenant. But she was no fool. The only reason she's still breathing is because of her training, her team, and a hell of a lot of luck. This last op had been different, strange, confusing, and a whole host of other emotions rolled into one. Her training had prepared her from all kinds of situational changes, but nothing like that. Whether it was fate or luck that brought them together, she couldn't say. One thing was certain however, no one was going to harm her friend ever again. And nothing was going to get in the way of Megan's safety, not even her own injuries. So Linda adapted her mission parameters, even as the pain from her injuries grew considerably worse with each passing hour.
A knock behind her brought her visor up from the table, her hands continued to massage the rifle resting upon it.
"You know, you should really get those looked at." The sniper's lips morphed into a deep frown behind her visor. Sandra's words rubbed her the wrong way, more from the content of the message than the person delivering it. Barely turning her head, she addressed the younger Spartan.
"I'm fine." Linda spoke bluntly, hoping the blonde would just leave her be. Her spine was starting to really bother her.
"You aren't the only one who's had spinal injuries before, Linda." The redhead's movements slowed almost to a crawl as the words hit her. For a moment, in what she would later describe as a brief lapse in sanity, she considered opening up to Sandra. But like a grain of sand in a windy desert, one second it was there and the next it was gone. Like it had never been there at all.
"Chief order you here?" She asked, diverting the topic to one she was more comfortable with.
"No. I'm just the only one who'll say something about it. You guys have a real inimical view on visiting medics."
"Kelly's probably told you some of it, but I've been poked and prodded more than my fair share. It's just more of the same." Linda surprised herself by how talkative she was being, even to her combat sister. She blamed the pain for her loose tongue.
It took all of Linda's will not to visibly wince when a hand rested itself on her shoulder. "You don't have to take on the entire universe by yourself. I don't know exactly what Halsey drilled into you guys as kids, but walling yourself off from others isn't healthy." A sigh flowed from Sandra's lips like water from a stream, allowing her to finish her thought. "I know I've deliberately gone out of my way to piss you off, even before Kelly said anything. And I'm sorry for that. But if you ever need to talk to someone, about anything…" She trailed off, uncertainly severing the remainder of the thought.
"Noted." Linda replied succinctly. Relief washed through her veins as the soldier's hand dropped away. Searing pain in her lower back lanced up and down her spine relentlessly, coating every nerve in fire. Ignore it. She chanted, unwilling to show how compromising her injuries were.
WARNING: ALL ONBOARD MEDICAL SUPPLIES DEPLETED. SEEK EXTERNAL ASSISTANCE IMMEDIATELY.
Damn. That wasn't good.
"Wheels up in thirty." The words fell on deaf ears as the sniper was too preoccupied with her current issues. Sandra's footsteps faded from earshot, leaving her alone with her thoughts once again. My injuries are not that extensive. My armor should have plenty of… Oh. Their combined injuries must have drained her supplies faster than she thought. Linda clenched her fists angrily as mounting frustration seeped through her veins like a poison. How could she be so inattentive? So forgetful? Pain and wandering thoughts were no excuse for poor performance. Adapt or die. She repeated the mantra as she returned to her maintenance, calmly oiling then wiping the weapon clean as the volatile emotions slowly faded from her system. The medic could wait. She'd manage just fine, like she always had.
A terrified, piercing scream tore across the camp, causing Linda to squeeze the entire bottle of lubricant all over Nornfang. The cyan goo dripped from the weapon, coating her hands as if she had dunk them into a pool of grunt blood. Cursing under her breath, she furiously wiped the offending substance off with a cloth. Who the hell…bloody civilians. Finished, she tossed the towel back on the table. Only twenty minutes before she'd be off this rock. From there, it would take several weeks to make it back to Earth. Her lips twitched into a resemblance of a smile at the thought of possibly visiting a few of the cafes she's had her eye on for a while. MRE's didn't even classify in the same universe as freshly cooked meals. Calamari? Yes please!
Odd. The tone and pitch of that scream almost sounded like…Megan! Without giving it a second thought, Linda sprinted out of the tent and made a beeline for the origin. Surprised shouts and angry curses followed in the Spartan's wake as she charged through the campground.
"Where's the fire, Spartan?" One of the Spartans from Fireteam Apollo taunted, drawing a laugh from his teammates. She ignored him, a tan blur in a sea of green like a shark weaving its way through a coral maze. She wasn't worried for her friend, she promised herself, even as her heart pulsed angrily at the blatant denial. A few seconds later, she burst into the medical tent, nearly tearing the fabric from its frame in the process. Though most of the tent lay empty, several heads turned to face her. The corpsman looked somewhere between annoyed and terrified, his patients disturbed for the second time that day. Standing next to the bed was a tall, moderately built young man, his dark hazel eyes flicking between Megan and her, unsure of who to focus on. Chocolate skin, close shaven, average build… Kevin. Despite Megan's more outgoing nature, Linda had keenly listened to everything the young teacher had said, committing everything to memory. Almost as if she was terrified of forgetting anything remotely related to the aquamarine haired beauty. The things Megan had told her came roaring back like a raging inferno, stoking the coals of a fire she had believed to be doused. Neurons inside her brain threw rapid fire orders at her muscles, twitching as they inched for her magnum. The frigid winter air seeped into the small enclosure, perfectly matching the Spartan's demeanor.
"Everyone out!" She commanded, forcing her hands to rest anywhere but on her sidearm.
"What? I can't just leave her!" Kevin exclaimed, gesturing at Megan with his hands, as if to emphasize his point. Megan, for her part, had quieted to a whimper upon laying eyes on the Spartan. Something emerged deep within the Spartan, something she never knew she possessed. Protective instincts. Not for Humanity as a whole, a mantra which she had touted since the age of six, but for a single person. Under the armor, skin, and augmented bones lay the DNA of a human. It urged her to lash out, to eradicate in order to protect that which was hers. But cold-blooded murder is frowned upon on most worlds, so Linda did the next best thing: channel it into something productive.
"Sir, your presence is clearly agitating her. Please leave so that she may properly recover." It pissed her off that, of all people, she had to explain herself to him. Linda would have never abandoned her friend. She couldn't blame him for his act of self-preservation, but she would never forgive him. In her hour of need, Megan had been abandoned, discarded like yesterday's trash, by the one she loved. No tool in the universe could fix damage like that. A part of her relished the fact Megan could cut out someone who didn't belong in her life. No, she wasn't jealous. Spartans did not get jealous. Not one of her caliber. That's what she told herself anyway.
By the indignant look on Kevin's face, he looked like he might argue with her, but swallowed his tongue. Throwing the Spartan one last bitter look, he stormed out into the blistering winds. Linda turned her expectant gaze to the corpsman.
"You should really get that looked at, Spartan." He said, pointedly waving a hand in her general direction. She froze, embarrassment staying her hand. She recovered quickly, letting her hand drop to her side like nothing happened.
"I'm fine." The corpsman narrowed his eyes at her clear dismissal of her pain, but said nothing. What could he say? He heard the stories that Spartan-II's were notoriously, and frustratingly, proficient at avoiding medical attention. After what seemed like hours, he sighed and shook his head. Retrieving his pad from the table, he took slow but steady steps towards the exit. Exhausted, most likely due to lack of sleep. She could sympathize. The number of wounded citizens multiplied their workload exponentially. But there was one more topic she wanted to address. "Corpsman," He paused at the flap, looking up into her visor with tired eyes. "The male who was just here. He is not to come within one hundred feet of her while under your care. If he does, remove him. If he insists, detain him." Anger and worry rolled through her stomach like a heavy fog, obscuring her ability to think logically.
"I will not turn away those in need because you don't like someone, Spartan." She curled her hands, flashes of anger pulsing through her like a lightning storm, erratic and unpredictable. She turned to face him towering almost two heads above him.
"Not. This. Tent." She commanded, glaring at him from behind her visor. indignant, he held her gaze for several moments before sighing once more, rubbing his temples to fight off a rising headache.
"Fine." Linda's lips quirked into something resembling a smile. "For her sake, not yours." Good enough. With one last shake of his head, he was gone. She inhaled deeply to center herself…and immediately wished she hadn't. Horrendous pain lanced up her spine, like it had been dipped in white-hot plasma. Taking several unsteady steps, Linda braced herself against the edge of an examination table, the metal groaning under the immense weight of her armor. She closed her eyes, taking short, shallow breaths to try to ease the growing pain. While quite uncomfortable, it did allow her focus on other sensations. Warm fingers wrapped gently around her forearm and nestled in her palm. Surprised, she jerked her head in the direction of Megan's bed, only to find the woman staring up into her visor, concern swimming in her sapphire pools.
"Are you…ok?" Megan asked, looking over her rescuer. Unable to find any discernible physical cracks in her armor, she stared up into the cold, hard visor, unwittingly chipping away at the sniper's emotional defenses.
"I'm fine." Was Linda's clipped response. She hated the feeling of being weak or immobilized. And this was starting to feel like a mixture of both. The woman's frown was enough to make Linda feel even worse about herself.
"I'm no expert on Spartan health, but you certainly don't look fine." Linda glowered, greatly displeased with her accuracy. "Here, sit down." Refusal crossed the sniper's mind for just a moment, but she dismissed the thought. She didn't want any more hassle than necessary. At least that's what she told herself. The other possibilities were too daunting to dwell upon. With Megan's gentle but insistent coaxing, Linda eased her armored frame onto the nearest table, the muscles in her jaw tightening with every stab of pain. They sat in silence, save for the sounds of passing aircraft and rumble of vehicles, muted by the heavy olive walls. The minutes ticked by, both women lost within their own world.
"We were so good to one another." Megan's said to no one in particular, filling the silence as she choked out the words. "We did everything together. So how did it end up like this?" She rubbed away the ugly tears as they flooded her face. "How could he do something like that?" She looked up at Linda, watery blue orbs desperate for answers.
She focused on the tent flap, unable to stomach the vulnerability that usurped her defenses without even trying. Tongue dry and heavy, she forced the words out. "I have no answer for you." Linda's heart reached out to the smaller woman as fresh sobs wracked her lithe frame. Selfish as it may seem, she couldn't deny the gleeful embers that swelled and swirled inside her with renewed purpose. Kevin, her supposed protector, had failed in his duties, abandoning her and leaving the position open to someone more suited to succeed. Me. Hopefully, Megan would learn from this experience and be all the better for it. "But you're strong. You can handle yourself." She yearned to say more, to offer some semblance of comfort, but the words would not come.
Megan latched onto her arm, the titanium alloy digging into her skin, but she paid it no mind. "T-thank you. You don't know how much that means to me." Blue eyes flitted across her helmet like a stone skipping across a pond, absorbing every single detail. Hidden behind several layers of titanium alloy, she couldn't see Linda's steely eyes gazing curiously back at her, scanning the younger woman's face for…something. A nervous, self-deprecating laugh escaped her throat. "Look at me, bawling my eyes out and blabbering to a Spartan." Compliments yearned to fill the air and alleviate the stinging bitterness that dwelled within. Stranger still, Linda found herself with the startling idea of drawing her into a hug. Horrified at her own weakness, she stomped out the idea with a terrifying vengeance. But even as it receded back into the depths of her mind, traces still lingered much like dew clings to blades of grass on the morning after a rainstorm. She had to get out of here, before she did something she'd regret. Her com chirped in her ear, eager for her attention.
"Dust off in five. Come on Linda, time's a tickin'." The sniper had never been more relieved to hear Sandra's voice.
"Copy. En route." She ended the channel, once again bringing her gaze back upon the younger woman and all the uncomfortableness that came with it.
"I need to go." She said, rising to her feet.
"Wait!" Linda waited patiently as Megan furiously dug through a small pouch resting on the metal table beside her bed, lips pulling into a small smirk at the few words she managed to catch. "Gotcha!" Quickly applying something to her face, the instructor strode right into the Spartan's personal space and placed a kiss on her jaw. For all her speed and strength, Linda didn't even try to stop her. What the… Alright, now she needed a meeting with Halsey because she could not be compromised. Not like Kelly. Not like Sandra. She was better than that, stronger than that. Her traitorous mind picked up on the words coming from Megan's white, and slightly smeared, lips. "Just a little something to remember me by. And to thank you once again for saving my life. I know I wouldn't have made it without you." Linda's muscles refused to move, no matter how hard she pushed them to respond. Her body's blatant betrayal infuriated her beyond belief. Regaining control of her body, she spun on her heel eager to leave this unknown pot of swirling emotional turmoil far behind. My implants need to be reevaluated, replaced if necessary. This is unacceptable! I will rip them out myself if that's what it takes! I need to talk to Halsey, analyze my options.
She wove through the maze of tents, willing herself to remain in control. She began her breathing exercises, only to falter as she caught two militia members furiously making out in a dark corner tucked behind several supply crates. Her mind was flooded with memories and sensations of Megan, seeping into every nook and every cranny of her conscious mind. Her usual calming techniques were ineffective, as so she turned to the oldest focusing point in the book: pain. Bringing a palm down onto her ribs, she inhaled sharply through her teeth as a surge of vicious pain assailed her body, wiping out any other lingering thoughts. Much better. Within a few short minutes, which seemed to drag on for eternity, she reached the Pelican. Snow and ash settled on its fuselage like grains of salt and pepper, lazily rolling over one another in the breeze. She boarded without comment, pounding several times on the hull to initiate take off. With a throaty roar, the cyan thrusters pushed the bird into the sky, throwing the miniscule reminders of this planet clear from its olive body. Hydraulics hummed and hissed closing and sealing the gangplank. The pilot then pressurized the cabin, allowing the soldiers to remove their helmets if they so wished.
"Glad to see we didn't leave you behind, Spartan." Erikson's voice was music to her ears, allowing her to breathe a little easier. Believe me, no one wants off this planet more.
"Oooo! I think Linda has an admirer!" Sandra teased, nudging Kelly with her elbow. Spoke too soon. Subtle shifts of their helmets beguiled her team's apparent disinterest. Rather than sinking to such childishness, she bit back with her own retort.
"Don't think I won't hesitate to throw you out of this bird."
"Little defensive, aren't we?" Linda clenched her jaw, frustration mounting. Megan's presence on Tribute shook the sniper deeper than she first anticipated. Being around the teacher for such a prolonged period drew whispers of a different time. Like a poison, they seeped into her mind, providing an effective distraction as it upset her inner balance. And Sandra had just added a gallon of gasoline to a very volatile blaze.
"Enough." Kelly interjected, laying a hand on the purple Spartan's shoulder in an effort to diffuse the worsening situation. Though far from enthusiastic, she dropped the subject, folding her arms across her chest. Linda allowed some of the tension ease from her rigid muscles. The Pelican steadied out as they broke atmosphere, settling into its predetermined flight path to the Infinity.
"Going to be about fifteen minutes, Spartans. Relax, unwind…if you do that sort of thing." Sandra let out a bark of laughter. It drew a twitch of a smile from the other four. As they both well knew, trying to get any of them to relax was nearly impossible. Navigating slipspace with a compass was astronomically easier.
Linda looked…frazzled. More than just coming down from a combat high. She trained with Blue Team enough to recognize their tells, both in and out of battle. The subtle movements, quick gestures and minuscule facial tics that allowed the older generation to express themselves without expressing themselves. Fred shrugged. Kelly shifted foot to foot. Chief tapped his fingers. Linda…well, truth be told, she never pinned down the sniper's tick. The fact that the tan Spartan's leg wouldn't stop twitching as she tapped her fingers on it were worrying. Even more alarming was that Linda, whose entire job depended on her ability to remain undetected, couldn't sit still. And Sandra suspected the second she peeled that Mjolnir suit off the woman, she would shatter into a million pieces. Shaking her head at their pilot's words, the blonde dropped the opacity of her visor and fixed the sniper with a soft smile. "Linda," The redhead turned to face her younger teammate with a frown tucked behind her helmet. Sandra ignored what was certainly a sour expression and the curious stares of the other veterans. Jesus, what the hell happened down there to make you rattled? Tucking the thought away for a later time, she waited for Linda to answer her channel request.
"…" Clearly, Linda was not in a talkative mood. But when was she ever?
"Mind if I say something?"
"You seem to speak your mind regardless." Linda responded in a huff. Pulling Nornfang from the holster on her spine, she fiddled with the scope. Trying to pass the time. Trying to ignore Sandra.
The low rumble of the engines filled the crew bay with a warm familiarity. But it was overshadowed by the sting of the sniper's comment. Sandra broke eye contact, repolarizing her visor to hide her guilt. It's true, she hadn't considered the redhead's feelings. For being the most 'in tune' with her emotions, she did a terrible job of recognizing other people's.
"Sorry," She began, eyes trained on her rifle. "Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own issues, I forget other people have them too. I just wanted to say I think that mark is really cool and you should keep it."
"Unauthorized armor modification is against regulations."
"So is this." Sandra fired back, gesturing between Kelly and herself with a hand. "Never let that stop us. I say let 'em whine. I'll back you up if need be. So will Kelly. Fred and Chief too, with a little prodding."
Linda's mouth quirked into a shadow of a smile. Leave it to Sandra to tell the UNSC and ONI to go to hell. "I will…consider it." Sandra eased back into the stiff seat, giving the sniper a quick nod. Stifling a yawn, she lay her head on Kelly's shoulder, the scout surprisingly receptive of the overt gesture of closeness.
Perhaps a small adjustment would not be cause for concern. Mjolnir was a sword, built solely for combat. The suit was a shield, designed to protect the wearer at all costs. Function always took precedence over fashion. The battlefield, a pool of chaos and destruction, was no place for frivolousness. Her emerald eyes took in all the sand, grit, and ash that caked the scratched and faded plates. And for the first time a pang of distaste ballooned in her throat. It looked so…empty, lonely. A vast desert, stretching on endlessly towards the horizon with nothing but the wind for company. It was always enough. Now…she didn't know what to think. Halsey will know - have answers. Setting her sniper in the chair next to her, she let the familiar hum of the Pelican's engines lull her into a fruitless slumber.
December 26, 2561
New Noida, Falaknuma
18 Scorpii System
0230 hours
Serin Osman glared icily at the message on her desk, wanting nothing more than to just throw the damn pad out the window. Taurus. A name which had become a major pain in ONI's ass and the ex-Spartan had made it a personal goal to slap a set of restraints onto the hacker. No matter what anti-intrusion software or AI observer they installed into their systems, they always managed to get inside, pilfering their classified secrets. Surprisingly, Taurus, whoever they were, didn't play well with those who had a grudge against Humanity, passing on details on meeting locations, shipping manifests, and a constantly updated list of nuclear payloads out in the open. Osman used several teams to sell tagged weapons on the black market in an attempt to bait this unknown individual, but they had avoided every lure to date. More slippery than a greased eel. Their latest work was splayed out before her, playfully taunting her like she was a child. Fury rolled through her frame, twisting her face into a snarl.
Breaking from the screen, she addressed the only other person in the room. A single bulb hung limply on a fraying cord, dim light illuminating peeling walls dotted with a white fungus that matched the decaying aesthetic better than the figure half hidden by the shadows. "Major Zenglin, bring her in." Doubt flashed in his eyes but he nodded, talking quietly into his earpiece.
"They're five minutes out. Extraction was a success. No witnesses." Serin nodded, running a hand through her greasy hair. New Noida was not a backwater dust bowl like Venezia but it had still been several days since she last took a shower. Its sprawling metropolises dotted much of the landscape, concrete spears jutting up into the horizon, overshadowing the smaller towns, mountain ranges and forest blankets that wove it all together. Fortunately, their target preferred the closer-knit communities widely found in the smaller towns. Less people, smaller team, less mistakes. An opportunity like this was rare indeed and she was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. The price of failure was far too high.
"Bring her to me." She ordered. "Dismissed." Shooing him out of the room with a wave, she dove back into the document, eyes scanning for any detail, any fragment of information that may hint at Taurus's whereabouts or operations. Seeker, the AI housed at ONI's headquarters had already run a full analysis on it and came up with nothing. If a smart AI designed to sniff out intelligence networks and analyze every bit of data that enters those halls couldn't find anything, how would another look help? They're like a ghost in the wind. Still, she gave it one more once-over just to be sure.
"Unhand me!" The woman commanded, her voice cutting through the thin walls like they were made of paper. Melodious, though marred by age, the woman must have been quite the looker back in the day. The door to her office burst open as two massive ODSTs stepped inside, having to duck under the short doorframe. The woman twisted and pulled, struggling to break free. Unfortunately, escaping their vice like grip around her arms was downright impossible. "If you want money, fine. I don't have much, but you can have it. Just let me go." The thick hood muffled her words, but Osman understood her just fine.
"Release her." Osman ordered, gesturing to the only other chair in the room. The soldiers gently, but firmly planted the woman onto the cushion and tore the hood from her face. The ONI Director looked on, unmoved, as the aging woman gulped down the stale air that lingered in the room. A river of silver framed her angular face, tied back in a high ponytail. Creases caused by years of worry and doubt crawled along the edges of her mouth, forehead and eyes, making her appear many years older than stated in her file. Dark blue sapphire orbs flitted around the dingy room, coming to a rest on Serin. She opened her mouth to speak, but Osman silenced her with a glare. "You are dismissed." Not allowing her gaze to wonder.
"Yes ma'am. We'll be right outside." The wooden floor creaked noisily with every step the weighty troopers took. As the door closed the room descended into silence as Osman considered her next words.
"Patricia Shaddock," She began "Born Patricia Astar on the inner colony world of Imber, thirteenth of May, 2490. Parents died in a building collapse when you were ten. Relatives took you in, raised you until you finished school. Found out you were pregnant in December of 2509. Married your childhood sweetheart quickly thereafter. Only one child, born September 21, 2510. Reported missing sometime in 2517, though medical records report her as deceased."
"How dare you talk about my life like, like it's some kind of…manual!" The words washed over Osman like an icy sea, but she just brushed the hostility aside. "And who the hell are you people anyway?" The chair was uncomfortable, but Serin kept her posture ramrod straight. Glowering at Patricia, she fired back, mistakenly allowing some of her irritation to show through.
"The only reason we are having this meeting is because our mutual acquaintance is threatening to release secrets to the public. Secrets which ONI would very much like to stay a secret." Blue eyes widened in surprise at the mention of the UNSC's intelligence gathering service. "I have allowed you to become a thorn in my side. One that needs to be removed as swiftly as possible, one way or another."
"Are you going to…kill me?" Patricia asked, eyes wide with fear.
"Unfortunately, eliminating you now would only worsen the situation." Serin ignored the shiver that lanced up the matron's spine. She honestly didn't care. The much simpler and expedient solution would be two in the back of the head, but Taurus' cache of dirty laundry prevented such a plan. So she had to play ball. For now. There were few things Serin hated more than catering to other people's whims. But Parangosky taught her how to play nice. So she would give the grieving widow what she desired. Taurus was their top priority. "Regardless, you are here for information. So ask. Quickly, before my goodwill dries up."
"Are there others like me?"
"Billions of us have lost loved ones to this war, many-"
"I may be old, but I'm not stupid. I know your game! ONI lies, tells half-truths all in the name of 'protecting Humanity'. And I'm done having my questions swept under the rug! You will answer truthfully. And you will answer me now." Osman brought her fingers together in a triangle, as she observed the distraught widow. Patricia's jaw was clenched so tightly, Serin legitimately wondered how long before she broke a tooth. Chilling icy flames swirled like a blizzard within her blue irises. A glare so chilling it would, without a doubt, kill a lesser being. But Serin was no mere pencil pusher. After washing out of the SPARTAN-II program because her body began to reject several augmentations, she was recruited by ONI. From there, Parangosky took a personal interest in the ex-Spartan, taking the young woman under her wing. Osman worked her way up the ranks until she held the rank of Rear Admiral, leading ONI from the shadows.
"These half-truths allowed Humanity to win the war. Without them, we'd all be dead." She growled out. Ethics, more often than not, tended to take a backseat whenever ONI became involved. Such morally ambiguous programs and operations allowed Humanity to prevent its own extinction. Hell, she was even a candidate for one such program. But Serin kept these thoughts to herself. The outcry if this went public…another Insurrection would be the least of their worries.
Patricia slumped back into her chair as if the bones in her body had been removed. "I just want to know what happened to her…" She looked exhausted. Years of searching had destroyed her life, but she was not the first to ask questions. Staffan Sentzke, father of Naomi-010, had turned to crime and eventually became an insurgent after he became convinced her daughter had been kidnapped by the UNSC. And while Patricia didn't seem the type to up and join the revitalized Insurrection, people tended to make rash and stupid decisions when desperate.
"Major, are we secure?" Osman asked, tapping her com pad. Mrs. Shaddock blinked wearily in her peripheral, but she ignored the motion.
"Affirmative. The block is a dead zone. No chatter in or out."
"Make sure it stays that way." She ended the link without another word, turning her focus back to the widow, eyes now flush with curiosity. "Patricia Shaddock, what I am about to disclose is something only a handful of people even know exist. Fewer still know the details of this program. Make no mistake, I am not telling you this out of some misplaced sense of goodwill or restitution. This is out of necessity. And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone you will find yourself in the deepest, darkest hole I can find. Are we clear?"
"Y-yes. I understand."
"Good." Osman said, pausing for a moment to get her thoughts in order. "As of 0010 hours this morning your daughter is alive."
Come Back Next Time!
Cliffhanger! Aren't I just a stinker? Apologies that this chapter is somewhat shorter than my last couple! There are a few other scenes I wanted to include, but none of them felt right. But rest assured, this story still has a little bit of gas left in the tank. Just a few more chapters to go. I know I've been saying that forever but it's true. Next, Sandra and Kelly confront Halsey as Linda searches for a solution for her problems! What else is in store? Come read the next installment to find out!
