Chapter 12: The Twenty Third Knife, Part 1
Location: Iota Station, 23 Librae system. Date: December 16, 2187, Species Alliance calendar. March 17, 2596, UNSC calendar.
Compared to the SUV vehicles that transported the Normandy team to the UNSC's HIGHCOM facility, these newer ones were bulkier, longer, and the seating was arranged along the edges of the vehicle looking in. Sort of akin to a military luxury limousine.
The passenger compartment was at its capacity of eight. Admiral Hackett, three Normandy crewmen, the lawyer Seth O'Gren, Fleet Admiral Thomas Lasky, and two fully armored MP bodyguards all sat in a circle staring at each other. There was no ongoing conversation. The Normandy group was silently still trying to comprehend how they'd botched their first attempt at securing UNSC support while the fleet admiral and the lawyer looked on.
Lieutenant Ashley Williams glanced over her shoulder out at the towers of a human metropolis built within an alien mega-warship streaking by. Her look shifted out the back tinted window where the other identical convoy vehicles were visible. "You got a lot of security for just six people," she stated. She wasn't exaggerating. The entire convoy was a full forty vehicles strong.
"It's standard operating procedure," Lasky replied, seemingly elated the silence had been broken.
"In my experience, this seems overkill," Williams explained, remembering the Systems Alliance would've only delegated half the present force in the same situation. Although, even at the height of the Systems Alliance's power the military was never directly controlled by an independent council. Here there was a definite separation between military and civilian government unheard of back home.
"If you say so," Lasky deadpanned, "In my experience, and by extension the UNSC's, the strength of this convoy is perfectly within bounds."
Jacob leaned forward and grunted, placing himself at the center of attention. "I keep thinking back to the your presentation when we first met."
He paused and Lasky motioned for him to continue.
"Those two smaller factions, the ones that moved. They were your closest neighbors and out of the blue they migrate away. Then we come along and ask to establish a colony in your territory and the UNSC shuts us down faster than a ship cruising at FTL," Jacob's lead up had the SUV's entire complement interested.
"What's your point?" Lasky asked neutrally.
Jacob sighed, "I think the UNSC has no interest in sharing space with an alien government let alone one they just encountered. Furthermore, I think the two factions were forced away either militarily or some other way." The accusation seemed to freeze the air as the Normandy team waited for Lasky's response.
The aged UNSC fleet admiral pull in a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap. "I won't withhold public knowledge. It'll probably irreparably sour future interactions." Lasky paused and appeared to contemplate his next words. "Heh, Osman's gonna chew my ass anyways. Yes, the UNSC, with the support of the Commonwealth, evicted the Jiralhanae and the Kig-Yar from their homeworlds and territories."
Everyone's demeanor changed drastically in the face of Lasky's admission. A mix of emotions flashed across Ashley's features, Vega looked stunned, Jacob appeared forlornly resolute, and Hackett only slumped forward slightly. The scope of what he was dealing with was growing by the second.
"I'd think it's a good thing Tali's not present," Vega spoke up, "The Quarian people tend to go crazy over matters of homeworlds."
Lasky eyed the burly latino, silently waiting for an explanation.
Vega easily caught the hint. "Tali's people lost their homeworld a couple centuries back to a machine race called the Geth. During the war, they attempted to take it back by force and it was only with the Normandy's help that a peaceful solution was reached," he explained.
Lasky looked appraisingly at Hackett. "It seems we share similar exploits. When things quiet down I wouldn't mind swapping stories of various commands." Out of everyone the Normandy group had met, Lasky was the most willing to be friendly.
"Respectfully, Admiral Hackett didn't arrange the peace between the Quarians and the Geth," Ashley interjected with barely disguised frustration, "That was Commander John Shepard. A renowned hero back home."
Every pair of eyes focused on her and Hackett's flash of anger in particular bored into her. Just as quickly as she'd stepped forward, Ashley retreated. Whether or not it was her intention, she'd just undermined Hackett's image in front of the UNSC.
Hackett grunted and swept that little incident away. "We've gotten off topic," he said to Lasky. "If it's public knowledge, I'd like to know why the UNSC forcefully drove away a pair of sapient species? An act, I'd like to state, wouldn't be very well received back home."
"If that's the case, then why didn't your galactic government rush to the aid of the Quarians?" Lasky asked, further souring Hackett's mood.
"That was well before humanity's involvement in galactic politics and of no real concern right now," Hackett replied, although he was well aware how evident the Council's hypocrisy involving the Quarians was.
"Oh well," Lasky said rather cryptically. "You wanted to know why we went to war with the Brutes and the Jackals. Well, the short and sweet version is simply: we were tired of their presence," the fleet admiral explained. His voice was calm and resolute but held a hint of regret, as if he wished things were different but ultimately couldn't argue.
"It took over two decades for the galaxy to stabilize after the Covenant's fragmentation," Lasky began. "However, even after the fact, we were constantly harassed by Brute and Jackal raiders. Those are slang terms for both species respectively," he offhandedly stated.
"The Jackals unified under a human ideology bastardized for their pirate ways, much to the shock of nearly every xeno specialist alive. How the Brutes pulled themselves together is a mystery still," Lasky continued. "Afterwards, the sporadic attacks against our boarders got larger and more organized."
Lasky pulled out a holographic datapad and began tapping away. "Eventually, they crossed the line," Lasky's expression developed an edge, indicating something about this was personal. He flipped the datapad around to display a full color profile image of a mighty starship.
It was roughly cylindrical in design, fairly flat at the front and along the bottom, and rounded on the upper and rear portions. A massive dome dominated the central upper area while ports, hangers, and various antenna arrays were discernible throughout. The really stunning detail for the Normandy group was the scale presented at the bottom of the image. According to it, the depicted ship was almost an unimaginable six kilometers in length. The name presented was UNSC Infinity.
Having become used to stunning sights and scenarios, the Normandy group didn't react like awe struck kids so much as students ready to receive a lesson. The only notable outward reaction was a low but appreciative whistle from Vega and a wondering statement on how much Reaper backside could the Infinity have wasted.
"The pride of humanity and the UNSC fleet. I commanded this vessel for over twenty years," Lasky said. "Then a routine deep space expedition ended in disaster. Forty Brute capital ships ambushed us. They knew exactly where we were gonna be and their ventral beams, weapons designed for orbital bombardment, were all over us."
Lasky had developed an expression Hackett had seen many times before. Blank and unfocused, a veteran or survivor reliving a horrific memory. The Thousand-Yard Stare.
"An emergency jump got us away but not before the the Infinity suffered astronomical damage. We limped as close to Assembly space as possible but the engines soon gave out and we had to abandon ship. The Infinity collided with an asteroid 16 kilometers in length and out of a crew of 17,000 less than half lived," Lasky drew in a breath as he recalled these painful details, "That's why the Assembly declared war on the Brutes and eventually the Jackals were roped in as well," he concluded.
Ashley, having abolished her distrustful view of aliens under Commander Shepard, leaned forward, "So you lose one massive ship and suddenly displacing an entire species is totally acceptable?" Her jab came out of nowhere and was an immediate shock to everyone present. Vega and Taylor hissed and seemingly braced for an explosion, Hackett didn't outwardly react at first, while both the two bodyguards and Mr. O'Gren were frowning profusely in her direction. Lasky was boring through her with an incredulous glare that hardly hid the daggers of indignant rage.
Hackett promptly stepped in before the brewing firestorm could break. "Lieutenant Williams, you are way out of line!" he stated calmly but forcefully. "You're ordered to maintain complete and total silence pending a review." Ashley immediately fell apart, took the cue, and sat back quietly.
Hackett turned to Lasky and attempted to divert his attention with a question. "How come the Commonwealth got involved?"
Lasky refocused on Hackett, seemingly all traces of anger wiped away. "The Sangheili were, and still are, involved in a military alliance with us. They were honor bound to help and when the war ended they were given occupational control of the Brute homeworld of Dosiac and the surrounding territory. While the UNSC does the same for the Jackal homeworld Eayn."
Lasky's story concluded, he flicked a glance in Ashley's direction and added one more comment. "At some point I'd like to review Species Alliance regulations regarding insubordination. Knowing where we differ in terms of discipline would be a boon to further interaction."
Hackett's scowl deepened but before he could reply Lasky's communicator chirped. The old fleet admiral slid the device in his ear, "Yes?" he spoke.
Whatever was spoken to Lasky prompted him to look out the back window of the SUV. Hackett did the same just in time to see maybe half the convoy split off down an off ramp.
"Good..." Lasky said back, "Keep to the plan… Inform me of anything significant… Lasky out." He removed the device and folded his hands in his lap.
"Were any of my advisors on those vehicles?" Hackett asked.
"No," Lasky simply replied. His friendly face had returned but Hackett knew the injuries inflicted on their cause today would take a long time to heal. Too much to do and too little time to do it.
A short time passed in relative silence before Lasky's communicator chirped again. "Yes?" he said with the device back in his ear.
Almost simultaneously Hackett's own communicator vibrated. He brought it out and found a priority hail from Joker. He accepted the call, "What is it, flight lieutenant?"
"Admiral, EDI just informed me that Iota's firewall grid just dissipated. If fact she says she can't got a hold of any of the station AI's and there are a lot of them. The entire network has gone dark."
Hackett looked across to Lasky whose expression had gone from calm to serious. "What do you mean?" the fleet admiral spoke to whoever was on the other side of the call.
Hackett turned back to his own call, "Any ideas Joker?"
"Something very fishy is happening, admiral. Be careful." The pilot's usual comedic tone was totally absent which Hackett found very disconcerting. He terminated the call and tuned into what Lasky was saying.
"How many… Has the fire department been notified..." Lasky's worry was growing exponentially, "...Any casualties…? Civilians...? Keep it that way… What-" Lasky's face blanched. "Say again marine?" Everyone present tensed up in frightened anticipation. "Speak up!" Whether or not he received a response, Lasky scrambled out of his seat and launched himself at the small window separating the cab from the passenger compartment.
Lasky yelled at the top of his lungs, "Driver! Stop the convoy!" He was too late.
An ear splitting roar rocked the highway. The first two convoy vehicles and any in the immediate vicinity where engulfed in an inferno while the shock wave shattered windows a full twelve vehicles in either direction. Since the glass on the convoy's vehicles were reinforced they were only severely spiderwebbed beyond the seventh SUV while the force was enough to brutally lay Lasky flat on the floor.
/
The pair of police cruisers rocketed along the roadway deeply set into the Iota metropolis. Both deftly weaved around numerous obstacles presented along the way. Dead and burned out vehicles, flaming craters, burning debris, even the occasional corpse.
"Goddamn!" the driver of the lead cruiser swore as he peered around, "Shane, that broadband of yours got anything about this?"
Shane, the passenger, released a throaty and frustrated harumph, "Couple of reports about insurgents firing grenade launchers at random. Other than that the network's shot, sergeant."
The driver twisted momentarily to look at his other two passengers; one a human woman and the other a fairly out of place alien. Had the sergeant not known any better he'd have believed the alien, an Asari, was a human-squid hybrid.
"Either of you been to the Outer Colonies? Seen anything like this?" he solemnly inquired. Both passengers were outfitted in military fatigues yet the pattern was unfamiliar.
"Yes, Sergeant Haynes," the blue skinned Asari replied to at least one of the questions, "We have."
"Hmm," Haynes turned his attention to the woman, "Miranda, right? You look about old enough to have fought in the war. I did two stints in the Y'deio asteroid belt. You?"
Miranda hardly knew half of what the sergeant was talking about but decided to play along if only to hide her true foreign origins . "I was too late for the war. Joined up afterwards as a naval logistics technician," she said, thinking quickly and using her knowledge of the Alliance military and the hope that human military conventions were common across dimensions to supplement her lie.
"Okay," Haynes said appreciatively, "And now?"
"Private contractor for Naval R&D," Miranda replied slightly dismissively, "My unit was on shore leave when this happened."
"Uh huh," Haynes grunted. His helmeted head turned ever so slightly as if he was having a quiet conversation. The movement was barely perceptible and Miranda hardly noticed.
"Sergeant," Shane spoke up, "hang a right ahead and the Colonel's position should be four blocks away."
"Alright," Haynes said, " PMC Lawson, you'd best get ready to hop into the fray." Something about the sergeant's tone of voice put Miranda on edge. As if the policeman had caught a whiff of her ruse.
The police cruiser made the turn at exceedingly high speeds and roared down the broad four lane avenue. Their destination was instantly visible once the cruiser stabilize on the straight-a-way. A blockade of vehicles stretching across the roadway. Figures could be seen darting back and forth, muzzle flashes erupted throughout, plumes of smoke and dust indicated impacts and the occasional explosion.
"Get ready. We're jumping in this thing hot," Sergeant Haynes stated consecutively to Shane racking a shotgun across his lap. Miranda and Samara prepped their own guns as well, keeping them out of sight to avoid any further questions.
The distance between the cruiser and the blockade dwindled extremely quick until Miranda could count individual cars. Haynes hit the brakes and turned hard right. As the vehicle came to a halt next to the curb all four doors flew open allowing the four passengers to spill out. They hunkered down in cover as a barrage of ricocheted and stray rounds flew overhead. Once that was clear they moved forward to the main barricade.
Miranda chanced a look to the left and saw the four person team from the second cruiser doing pretty much the same. Up ahead, identically garbed policemen were locked in a stalemated battle for what amounted to a great big mass of strewn about vehicles. Roughly two dozen police cruisers and a single gigantic armored van with made up the police's side while several dozen civilian vehicles were arranged in a circled wagon style stronghold. A five meter gap was all that separated the two sides and both were doing a good job of keeping each other's heads down.
Miranda's analytical mind was going on rapid fire as she took cover behind the police line. That Corporal Oberon had named these attackers insurgents. Was this part of an ongoing civil war? What was the point? Ideology? Identity? Independence? All of the above? She just didn't have information to form a conclusion. There was so much about the UNSC, the Assembly, and by extension its predecessor state the UEG that was unknown.
A hand fell on her shoulder and she snapped back to reality. The policeman who owned the hand remained unrecognizable until he spoke, "The colonel's given my team a job. You're coming with." It was Sergeant Haynes.
"What's the job?" Miranda hardly needed to ask. Figuring out how to break this stalemate was a rather simple deduction after all.
"A flanking maneuver. We're gonna hit these asses in the ass and break their line," Haynes explained. "All these lower levels are honeycombed with alleys and passages. It's just a matter of getting above or behind them."
Haynes' team of five other officers and Samara had gathered around ready to move. "There's an entryway just beyond our line," the sergeant continued. "Let the SWAT guys pop smoke and lay down suppression then we move."
The small strike team collected themselves at the far right end of the police barricade and waited. It wasn't too long before the police line exploded in a long display of firepower. Frag and smoke grenades blossomed seemingly at random with the intention keeping the insurgents down and disoriented.
"Move!" the sergeant yelled and took point. A wire mesh fence was all that was between them and the alleyway leading away from the fight. They easily scaled it and traveled down the ally for around 200 yards when they approached their first junction. A low rumble Miranda had been hearing then turned into a dull roar as the sergeant's hand again fell on her shoulder.
"Move back! Back! Back!" Sergeant Haynes ordered the squad.
A look upwards showed all the reason why. One of the surrounding buildings was significantly smaller then the rest allowing for a perfect view of the burning UNSC shuttlecraft hurtling towards their position. Miranda turned and ran with the police while Samara, who'd steadily crept to the front of the group, didn't bother to stop and turn but kept running forward.
The shuttle, whose name was unknown to Miranda, clipped a building hard, sherring its left wing off and flipping it sideways. It hit with a tremendous impact and brought the surrounding walls down with it, creating a sizable mountain of flaming rubble.
Miranda was one of the first to turn back around after the crash and quickly made to contact her separate friend. "Samara can you hear me? Respond please."
"I hear you Miss Lawson and I am unharmed. I will make haste to regroup." The Asari was calm and collected as ever.
"Good, but keep it low key. We don't need to reveal any unique abilities just yet." As Miranda spoke an unnamed officer hollard for the sergeant's attention.
"Understood," Samara closed the connection.
"We have a way in!" Sergeant Haynes yelled to the squad. The crash had left a significant gash in the building to their left, allowing entrance.
Miranda moved to follow the police as they began crawling through the gash. "A few floors up and we'll have a brilliant vantage over the enemy. After you technician," the sergeant said and to which Miranda didn't respond.
/
Samara swallowed the urge to grumble. It was unbecoming of a Justiciar of her veterancy, yet hiding her biotic ability from these second dimension human police was becoming tiring. Since she couldn't just hover over the crash she chose to follow what must have been Sergeant Haynes' original route. A tunnel that dipped underneath the adjacent building on the left and continued that way.
She made quick work of the short steps leading downwards into a grey concrete corridor dimly lit with white lights and was immediately confronted with a moral challenge. Another policeman, obviously separated from his unit, was viciously beating an apparently unarmed civilian woman. Repeatedly, the woman seemingly attempted to raise her hands in a nonthreatening manner. Only for the cop's fist to bat them away and continue the rain of blows.
Samara's hand immediately went for her Predator, but paused. There could be more to this atrocity. Motives behind each individual that dictated their actions. Such grey thoughts had been plaguing Samara as of late. Her code demanded her actions be swift and black and her reasoning pure and white. But the Reapers had toppled everything. Her world of black and white had mudded to grey. Now every resource was as valuable as the people and the decision of which to save was a constant worry. Not in this instance.
Samara pulled her gun and shot the policeman in the head just as he realized he had an audience. The now liberated woman rolled out from underneath the corpse and caught sight of Samara. Before the Justiciar could issue a comforting word the woman scrambled for the policeman's gunbelt and withdrew a sidearm.
As soon as Samara saw the weapon she didn't hesitate to lash the woman with a biotic field and fling her headfirst into the ceiling. She hit with a sickening crunch and fell back down with a sickening crunch. The Justiciar simply strolled past, the confrontation resolved in a way that pleased the black and white Code but conflicted with the grey Reality.
Samara could only ponder what could've happened instead. Commander Shepard would undoubtedly have physically intervened, forced the two sides to explain, and made a choice. But Shepard was dead, and the Code prevented her from emulating the good Commander's particular brand of morals regardless of her wishes. The Normandy itself was an aberration. Had she not sworn an oath to Shepard she would doubtlessly have already cleansed its assorted crew of miscreants. And now their lives were an inspiration to others, so she continued to stay her hand. Their very existence preserved the many. Another grey choice that blurred the Code.
Not here though. A problem arose and was settled, regardless of the red fist tattoo on the dead woman and the little eyes watching.
/
The door had been weakened by the crashed Pelican and a well placed kick was all that was needed to spell its end. Sergeant Haynes and his squad of five policemen swarmed through with Miranda hot after them.
The room was little more than a waiting area or rec room. Plush carpeting covered the floor and comfortable armchairs were scattered about. A shattered glass table dominated the room's center while the walls were mostly unadorned.
The door on the opposite side of the room creaked open admitting Samara through. Her arms were up in a nonthreatening fashion, alleviating the police's immediate instincts. She moved to Miranda's side towards the back of the room.
"Had no trouble getting here I hope?" Miranda wondered aloud.
Samara's seemingly simple reply was, "Nothing of note occurred."
Miranda's trepidation spiked. Justiciars never lie and as such they were not masters of subtlety. A plain 'no' would have sufficed, where a 'nothing of note' likely meant something had happened that the Justiciar didn't want to talk about. There wasn't any time to pry further though.
"We're just in time," Sergeant Haynes said with suppressed enthusiasm. He was peeking out a window toward the street and as he spoke the tone of the battle below changed. The steady stalemated crack-pops of the police and insurgent weapons turned sporadic and almost desperate. Meanwhile a new sound had entered the fray. An unfamiliar whine-snap that to Miranda's limited experience signified energy weapons.
She approached one of the windows, keeping low to avoid attracting fire. Down below she had a clear view of the police line on one side, the insurgent strongpoint in the middle, and opposite them were squads of recognizably urban camouflaged soldiers advancing up the street under fire. Their armor brought Miranda back to the Polaris and the two guards in green heavy armor. The rifles they carried were also identical to the ones on the Polaris: matte black with silver finish. The rounds they shot gave off a blue light and seemed to burn away everything a few inches around the point of impact.
Miranda observed as the UNSC soldiers began swarming the insurgent barricade. The prisoners they took were the ones who were too injured to resist; even the ones who threw down their arms and tried to surrender were shot.
Miranda's gaze landed on Sergeant Haynes, "There was no point to this flanking attempt was there?"
Haynes was completely unreadable behind his helmet's golden face shield. "We were more of a contingency than an actual maneuver. But there is still one question."
Out of the edges of her vision, Miranda could see the other officers back themselves towards the walls while keeping Samara and her firmly in their sights. Their weapons were half raised. Samara's hand moved for her pistol but Miranda waved her down.
"When you were a logistics technician what fleet were you assigned to?" Haynes calmly asked.
Miranda felt the walls close in. Her ruse meant to hide her foreign status was crumbling. Samara as an alien was easy to explain, but if Miranda was identified as non UNSC or Assembly how simple would it be to implicate her in the surrounding events.
"I was attached to the rear echelon of the Fifth Fleet." Miranda replied, dusting off every BS trick she could remember, "Didn't see much action." At this point all she could really do was alleviate suspicion long enough for her and Samara to run. Ideally without causing casualties.
"I guess that makes sense," Haynes' head tilted ever so slightly, "Say, you must still have buddies back in the fleet you keep in contact with. Do you happen to know where they're stationed?'
This was bad. For all Miranda knew this humanity's Fifth Fleet was either a roving expeditionary fleet or a stationary planetary defense fleet. Even if she guessed correctly, knowing where the fleet was wasn't possible. This was checkmate, "I don't have anyone to keep in contact with so I don't know where the fleet is."
Haynes shook his head. "I had hoped you wouldn't say that," he shouldered his shotgun with Miranda squarely in his sights, "Raise your hands above your head slowly. You too, blue."
Samara's gun arm was hovering dangerously over her holstered weapon. Regardless of the five policeman pointing weapons her way, if Samara brought biotics to bear, Haynes was toast. But killing police officers was not what they or the Normandy had come here to do.
"No need to fret. We'll comply," Miranda affirmed, shooting Samara a warning that could've thawed anything but the Justiciar's icy exterior. Samara relaxed her arms and held them out in front of her chest, palms forward. Miranda did the same.
"Now I've got some more questions, but keep in mind if you try anything you'll have to get through my guys and the boys down below," Haynes said. "First things first though, the Fifth Fleet is permanently on station above Earth, ready to defend the homeworld at any time. Secondly, the only private contractors for the UNSC are the big manufacturing corporations. There hasn't been a paramilitary unit on the UNSC's payroll for centuries."
"Why are you telling me this?" Miranda questioned. "Why haven't you disarmed us?"
"Because, every colonial ever born knows what I just told you," Haynes retorted. "Which is making it hard to believe you're just some Insurrectionist infiltrator. But the question still remains: who are you and where are you from?"
Miranda felt relief and renewed anxiety. She wasn't exactly suspected of being involved in the ongoing attack, but what would happen if she revealed her true origins? How would the UNSC, the Assembly, and this dimension at large, with its violent history and militant society, react to the revelation of a civilization from a parallel dimension. The handful of higher authorities who did know were likely keeping it under wraps until a more appropriate time, but what would happen if they were prematurely exposed? Miranda didn't have enough information to warrant the risk.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you." she said solemnly.
Haynes sighed, "Then we're gonna have a problem." He reaffirmed his grip on his weapon. Get down on the ground! You're under arrest!"
Neither Miranda nor Samara moved to comply. They were preparing themselves to fight.
Get down on the ground! Face down!" Haynes ordered with force. "I will not say it again!"
A completely unknown voice called out from behind the group, "There's no need for that, sergeant!"
Everyone's attention was drawn back to the doorway Samara had initially entered from. Three figures strode in wearing urban camouflaged armor identical to ones Miranda had seen down on street.
The one who spoke up spoke again, "I take it the individuals Miranda Lawson and Samara are present. Please step forward," he ordered.
Miranda and Samara merely strengthened at the mention of their names, which was enough for the soldier.
"I'm Major Lahari Hale. My superiors have designated you two as high value individuals to be evacuated at the nearest safe zone; the Commonwealth Embassy. My men will provide escort." The major stepped aside and beckoned them through the door.
"Major!" Sergeant Haynes stammered while trying to maintain his composure at the sudden entrance, "Why are these two important? Who are they?"
The major's attention refocused on the sergeant, "As a former marine you should know that information is well above your paygrade," he said. "Report back to Colonel Mackenzie. It's all hands on deck to root out these bastards."
Sergeant Haynes shuffled away and began marshalling his officers to leave, cursing under his breath the whole way. Once the police had left a uneasy silence fell across the room only disrupted by the chaos outside.
Miranda strode forward, arms crossed, "I believe we warrant more information, major. Like who wants us alive and why?"
"Look ma'am, I don't have the entire picture myself," Major Hale said politely and with a shrug. "I'm just the messenger and delivery man. But what I do know is the Office of Naval Intelligence has a burning interest to getting you two to safety. So you must be important and I'll be damned before I give the crows a meal."
A/N: One thing I would like to explain because I can see it causing flak down the road is the scene where Samara kills the cop in the ally. This is the beginning of a long run character arc where Samara has to reconcile between the black and white Code and the morally grey world she's been thrust into. And I felt a good place to start would be having her vent her frustration about her predicament in a shocking manner in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's no feelings of anti police or pro police brutality on my part. I just wanted to say that before someone gets the wrong idea and explodes a lung because the times we are living in is iffy on this subject.
All morbidity aside, follow, fav, and review.