Chapter Six: Old Combat Styles, Older Brother Returns
October 5, 2552 1037 hours
Training Facility
UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes
North America
The Spartans had been called into the observation room that overlooked the arena by General West, who motioned them over to the windows.
"Something interesting I thought you might like to see. Remember I was telling you about the other martial arts Laura studied?" When they nodded (a dark look on Fred's face in the process), West continued, "I noticed she was bringing in a different set of sheaths, so I figured you'd want to see what else she uses in her workouts."
They watched as Laura put a bundle down carefully on the ground, and unwrapped it to expose four sheathed knives; the handles that stuck out of them were strange—two sharp, curved points on the outside, while the handle itself jutted out to the wrist, and the blade itself reached as long as a human forearm. Two of the strange knives had silver handles set with winking pale-blue gemstones, while the other two seemed to be plain steel. She pulled the plain ones out of their sheaths and began to clean the blades, a faraway look on her face which cleared instantly as Nicole approached from behind.
"Working with the sais today?" Laura nodded as she idly twirled one knife in her hand. The Spartans marveled at the intricate curves made by the blade as it cut the air in glittering arcs. Laura switched directions, moving the spinning blade almost effortlessly.
"My dexterity counts have been falling lower than they should of late," she said, although her twirling gave no hint of falling dexterity, "so I figured on bringing it back up. Care to watch?"
Nicole nodded as her friend sheathed her knives, strapped the sheaths to her waist, and entered the arena. Music started to play, but it wasn't the usual music: while it was still fast, there was more of a lilting feel to it. Laura drew the knives quicker than the eye could see, and began twirling them around her wrists. She began to whirl, leap, and kick, all in time with the music. Fred recognized some of the moves as the ones she'd used on him their first day on Earth. Her movements had more grace here than in her usual workouts: they actually looked more like an intricate dance than a form of combat. Controlling the knives was obviously a lot of work, but she handled it as if she had done it for years—as far as they knew, she probably had. Spinning the blades toward her, she thrust behind her—if someone had been standing there they would have been killed. A quick slash brought the blades back to the front, as she spun the points around again. Sprinting forwards, she jumped up on the railing around the arena and pushed off, executing a clean flip and stabbing behind her as she landed. Laura continued to whirl in a graceful dance of death, a dance which seemed to mirror the music in speed, intensity and beauty. The Spartans, watching her move, were impressed; even Fred was surprised and impressed by the grace and intricacies of the martial art.
As the music ended, they finally noticed a middle-aged Navy officer watching Laura move, his left arm in a makeshift sling. His dark hair was such a dark brown that it looked almost black, and most of it was thinning out. He was tall and extremely thin, but his eyes were dark. The Spartans noticed a shadowy resemblance to Laura in the dark hair, dark eyes, and intense face, although his face had a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"Think fast!" the man called as he threw a knife at the back of Laura's head. She whirled around and caught it between her blades, a fierce look in her eyes. When she saw the visitor, however, the anger gave way to surprise and delight.
"Phil!" She dropped her knives, vaulted over the barrier around the edge of the arena, and pulled him into a rough hug, letting go the minute she saw him grimace. "When did you get back? We've been so worried!"
"My ship and I just made it back in yesterday. I heard a few whispers that said you were still alive, so I came to check on you. Have you killed anyone yet?"
"Oh, don't be such a tease." She began stowing her odd weapons, the shadow of a smile lingering on her face. "Now that you're back, I can fill you in on the latest batch of scandal, mayhem, and of course insights on the Terrible Tickling Twins. We're almost together again." Her mouth shut and clamped down into a thin line as she finished packing up her gear.
"I see you still have the sais Dad gave you for Christmas," the man commented.
"Yes, and I don't intend to use them until he returns. If he doesn't, I'll never use them again."
"He bought them for you to use, not for you to worship. He'd want you to use them. Besides, you should use them because you're just like those sais: beautiful, fast, graceful, and deadly."
"Graceful, fast, and deadly I can handle, but I doubt I'm that beautiful."
"Ok, fine, don't trust my judgment. But seriously, you should use those more often. Dad would want it."
"We'll argue about that later," she said, and sent a pointed glance at his arm. "What happened to you?"
"Broke my arm putting out fires on the bridge: a cross-bracing slammed into it."
"And you haven't got it treated yet? What on Earth were you thinking? Come on, let's get that looked at."
"What about your workout?" The serious tone of voice indicated that the man clearly didn't want her to waste time; either that, or he was teasing her.
"Fear not. There will be others," she intoned dramatically. "Now come on, or I'll carry you over there. Besides, it'll give you a chance to say hi to Mom. She's been so worried about you lately."
"You couldn't drag me anywhere, Laura."
"Oh no? As skinny as you are I couldn't drag you anywhere? Should I put it to the test?"
"Don't you dare," he said, trying to sound stern. Unfortunately, he broke out into a big grin, one that proved to be infectious as Laura grinned back. Draping one arm over his shoulders, she sighed contentedly; it was the first emotion besides anger that the Spartans had seen from her yet.
"Damn, it's good to see you back again."
"Yes, I'm sure," the man smiled as they moved towards the exit. "Now I can keep an eye on my little sister, keep her out of trouble."
"I can take care of myself, Phillip Joseph Morisson!"
As the two walked out of the workout room still verbally jabbing each other, Nicole trailing behind them with a smile on her face, Will looked over at the general.
"That was her brother, wasn't it? I thought we weren't allowed to return to our families."
"Laura's situation was different from yours, son. In a sense, she's the reason for everything that happened to you. Yes, that was her older brother, Commander Phillip Morisson. He's actually six years older than she is, and a fine Naval officer." There was genuine praise in West's voice.
"What kind of combat knives were those, sir?" Fred asked, wondering how soon he could get a pair of his own.
"I asked Laura once. She said they were called 'sais', and that they were used in Oriental martial arts, specifically Japanese. The plain ones she purchased herself, and paid a lot of money for them—they're really hard to find."
"And the fancy ones?" Will asked.
"Her father gave them to her as a Christmas present when she was sixteen; judging by the workmanship, they must have cost him a small fortune. Those blue stones are her birthstone, blue zircons I think. She doesn't use them nearly as often because they're so fancy—she's probably afraid she'll break them." He chuckled at the ridiculousness of it. "She purposely went out and bought plain sais to protect her father's present. Usually wears the nice ones on special occasions, and I must say they look quite nice with her dress uniform."
"Why the different martial arts?" The Master Chief asked.
"Keeps her on her toes, makes for a good workout, I don't know," the general said, and shrugged. "You'd have to ask her."
Adams Medical Facility 1052 hours
Camp Hayes
Dr. Gedeon was sitting at her desk, writing out recommendations on quarantine procedures: HighCom in Sydney was in the middle of a nasty flu epidemic. Good thing it's a slow day today, or I wouldn't have time to do this, she mused. A knock on the door prompted her to say "Come in," without even looking up.
"Hi Mom," a low voice muttered, sending her head up in surprise. Her oldest child stood in front of her, arm crudely bandaged.
"Phillip! When did you get back?" the elderly doctor was up and out of her seat as quickly as she could manage it. She hugged the man briefly, stepped back, and examined his bandaged arm.
"Not too long ago. Someone came close to dragging me over here almost as soon as she was finished exercising."
"Oh, Laura, Laura, Laura," Dr. Gedeon smiled as she shook her head. "She's definitely stubborn sometimes. She's also been a bit worried lately, but that's neither here nor there." She motioned her son to follow her as she moved to tend his arm. "Whoever looked at this did a decent job, but it needs a proper cast. Hold still."
"I told him he should have gotten that looked at first thing, instead of coming to see me work out," a lilting voice supplied from one corner of the room.
"He'll be fine, and truth be told he probably could have waited a few hours before he absolutely had to come in," her mother replied.
"Mom, you're not helping," Laura groused, poking at the dried plaster bandages.
Dr. Gedeon ignored her daughter's complaints, since she knew they weren't really complaints at all. Instead, they were her attempt at dry humor, which still wasn't working. The doctor finished bandaging her son's arm and gave him a better sling.
"You're lucky, the break's healing nicely already. Give it about three months and you should be back in top shape." She looked at her son. "You have someplace to stay?"
"Not really, no," Phil replied, a small smile forming on his face. "I didn't get the chance to apply for temporary quarters before I got pulled over here."
"Hey, if I'd pulled you, you'd have a lot more than just one broken arm," Laura pointed out.
Dr. Gedeon smiled at the banter between her children. "You know the house is still open if you want it."
"You know, I may just do that," Phil smiled. He looked at his younger sister. "Think there's any chance of you getting some leave?"
"As a matter of fact, I think I'm about due," Laura grinned. "I'll talk to General West." He'll manage it, he usually does, Laura thought, then smiled at the irony. The only real military friend I have is my CO. Go figure.