Hey all! I know I promised a longer chapter, but once agian I got blocked (sorry). At any rate, I hope the chapter meets with approval--and feel free to press the magic button! :D And thanks to my reviewers for informing me of a very glaring error--which has since been fixed (I hope!).
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Halo.
Chapter Twenty: Departure
June 27, 2558 0438 hours
UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes
North America
Laura walked quietly through the dark alleys and paths of Camp Hayes; it was still dark, but her night-eyes were exceptional. Small favors, she thought as she made her way to the launch pad. Even though they didn't leave for the ships until 0500, she had made it a habit to wake up early and arrive early whenever possible—her father had had the same philosophy.
Her duffel bag clinked when she set it down on the landing pad, and Laura stretched her arms over her head, trying to keep herself awake. She'd packed a few test items, and one of them was currently strapped to her wrist in the guise of an ordinary wristwatch.
"You sure this'll work?" her own voice whispered.
"Maybe, maybe not—but if I'm right I'll need all the help I can get," Laura answered. "The base copy we made should keep an eye on things around here, right?"
"That was the easy part," Lorienna muttered, then hissed, "Someone's coming!"
Laura looked around to see all of the Spartans in full armor, Dr. Halsey, and the Forerunners coming from the general direction of the barracks. Smirking, she picked up her duffel and strode to meet them.
"Up bright and early, eh?" she greeted cheerfully—she'd already been awake for an hour finishing her packing.
"I'm surprised you're this chipper," Fred yawned. He's still waking up, apparently.
"A necessity when you become a parent—you need to wake up quickly before the kids do, unless you want to wake up to an unusual breakfast." She'd learned that the hard way one morning when the twins had surprised her with breakfast in bed: half-cooked pancakes, runny scrambled eggs, and burnt toast.
"I doubt, though, you're as interested in my morning habits as you are my combat-readiness," Laura continued, steering the conversation in what she thought was the right direction.
"I see you're already packed," Dr. Halsey nodded to the duffel slung over one of her shoulders.
"As I said yesterday, I keep a duffel packed for just such occasions. All I needed to do was add a few extra things and I was set last night." Mostly, she thought, considering she'd had to wait to add Lorienna until the very last minute. "So which ship is lucky enough to carry us to our doom?"
"As if you didn't already know," John snickered. Laura smirked, catching the reference.
"Maybe I'm trying to make conversation while we wait," she shot back with a smile.
"Well, since we don't know where we're going, perhaps you could care to enlighten us?" Dr. Halsey asked, smiling.
"There's three ships: the Apache, Petrarch's Glory, and Light of the Prophet. Apache's one of our frigates, Prophet is a Covenant cruiser that was seized by the Sangheili—though I have no idea why they haven't renamed her."
"And Petrarch's Glory?" Kelly asked.
"A Forerunner dreadnaught," Laura answered. "Named after the famed general Petrarch of the old Empire, and I don't need to tell you that thing is the most powerful ship we have on our side. Even Prophet is a toy in comparison."
"Notice that she conveniently forgot to mention that Apache is also captained by her younger brother," a familiar voice snarked from her wrist. Laura jumped, to a few amused looks, and glared at the "wristwatch".
"You really want to blow our cover?" she grumbled. Fortunately, the Forerunners seemed to be keeping their distance, for some reason or another.
"They already know about me—and they would've found out anyway," Lorienna pointed out. "I think they're capable of keeping a secret."
"You'd better hope so," Laura sighed, turning back to the group.
"Care to explain?" an amused John asked.
"AI support—kinda like you and Cortana were. Not quite as sophisticated as your setup, though, but it'll do the job."
"Thanks for the support," Lorienna muttered. "Nice to know I'm appreciated."
"If I didn't appreciate you, I wouldn't have given you those last few upgrades," Laura smiled. "At any rate, she'll be coming along to help out with cracking and deciphering some of the Forerunner glyphs we might come across. Arisaya and I managed to put together a lexicon for her a few days ago."
"Can't you read the glyphs?" Linda asked.
"Some, but she's faster—and if we run into any computer terminals she can pull data for us to look at after the fact. Plus it's nice to have someone to argue with."
The sound of engines put a halt to Laura's conversation: the Pelicans were perfectly on-time and heading right for the pad. As soon as they were down Laura jogged towards one and up the loading ramp, the other Spartans following at a more sedate pace. She was already strapped in and waiting when the others boarded.
"Thought you weren't that thrilled about this mission," Ash commented—he was the first of the IIIs to say anything all morning.
"No, but they don't need to know that," Laura smirked. "Plus, I prefer to be doing than sitting. Put me on the sidelines and I go crazy trying to find something to do."
"Trying to keep up with your kids isn't enough?" Kelly snickered.
"Didn't always have them," she reminded her. "Used to be just me, my family, the Mitchells, and Skeeter." She smiled to think about the dog, who had since grown out of his puppy stage but still had more energy than she did.
"Speaking of the kids…" John began. Laura nodded once, understanding.
"Mom and Angela are looking after them, and I have the feeling 'Benamee is planning something." She thought back to the previous evening, when her Sangheili friend had surprised her with a visit, and an offer:
"'Benamee, I wasn't expecting you!" Laura made a hasty half-bow, and stepped back to allow her friend entry. The Sangheili had to stoop to fit, but he managed well otherwise.
"I will be brief, my friend, since I know you have much to do. There is talk all over this base about the upcoming mission. We know you will be leaving with the others, the Demons."
"They're not demons, 'Benamee," she chuckled. "They, and I, are still humans, with the same genetic core as all the others. We simply have had our genes tampered with."
"Maybe, but you will still be leaving," 'Benamee rumbled. "You have made arrangements for the small ones, yes?"
"Sam and Kelly will be staying with my mother or my sister," Laura nodded. "They'll be alternating weeks, it's the only way they can keep up with those two."
"They are spirited," 'Benamee nodded, clicking his mandibles together in a thoughtful manner. "I have a proposal, my friend, if you are willing."
"A proposal?" Laura turned slowly to look at her friend, doubt plain on her features. While she doubted the Sangheili meant her children harm, she wondered why he would be concerned with the young rabble-rousers she'd birthed.
"You know the Sangheili youth are trained from a young age," 'Benamee began. "Your young ones are about the age we would begin training our young."
"I hadn't thought of that, but yes," Laura nodded. "I'm not sure I follow, though…are you asking my permission to…to train them?"
"Not nearly as much as our own young would be trained," he interrupted, raising a three-fingered hand. "Simple exercises, a few combat techniques, and some self-control," he finished with the hint of a chuckle—or the Sangheili equivalent of one.
"I do try to keep them in line," Laura scowled.
"That is not in doubt, my friend," 'Benamee replied, "but even you must admit that they are more spirited than they are in control. And knowing how you yourself tend to act, I can understand the reasons."
"You have a point," she smiled quietly. They do take after me in that regard, and John too, she thought. "But I still don't understand why you wish to train them."
"Partly to give them focus—as you yourself said, unless you are doing something you tend to 'go crazy'," 'Benameee reminded her. "This will help to keep them occupied and out of mischief. And, knowing the amount of trouble that follows you, this will help them learn to defend themselves from enemies."
"Like ONI," she nodded, a frown appearing on her face. "Is that why you're doing this?"
"Partly," the Sangheili nodded. "And partly as a favor to a friend."
Laura smiled as she felt the acceleration of the Pelican lifting off, and felt her foot tapping in suppressed anticipation. Finally, I get to do something!
"Check that out," Mark whistled when the Pelican finally hit space. Laura unclipped her harness (a risky move, but she knew what she was doing) and pushed off to float near the window for a better look.
"Holy shit," she breathed. The Apache was your standard UNSC frigate, one of the few that had survived the war, albeit with a severe beating. Light of the Prophet was a Covenant cruiser: nothing she hadn't seen before, but still very impressive. Nothing, though, beat the Forerunner dreadnaught, Petrarch's Glory. The shape reminded her of a triangular pyramid (the exact geometrical name eluded her), and she didn't doubt that one-eighth of a single cannon's power could gut any ship the UNSC or even the Covenant could throw at it. The design was familiar, and she recalled that the Forerunner Empire had used mostly the same designs in their ships: this was the basic design for warships. Transports had a tendency to be more bulky and less maneuverable, but the warships looked as deadly and formidable as they actually were.
"You recognize the design?" Dr. Halsey asked.
"Yes," Laura murmured, floating away from the window and drifting aimlessly. "This design was already mainstreamed when Alaya was born. She wasn't too impressed by it, she thought it was too predictable." She snickered. "We're definitely alike in that respect: we prefer subtlety and cunning when it comes to a good fight, but plain speech and actions."
"Bit of a double standard there," the doctor pointed out.
"Nobody's perfect," she replied, moving so she spun on her head in the null-gravity. A playful mood took over for a few seconds, and she tuned circles and somersaults in the cramped dropship, making sure to keep away from the other passengers.
"You might want to sit back down, Blade," Tom commented. "Looks like we're headed for that dreadnaught."
"Noted." Bracing her feet against a bulkhead, she pushed off and shot back towards her seat. A few quick maneuvers and she was back in her seat securing her straps. "Gotta love zero-gees, so much fun," Laura grinned.
"Do you ever take a mission seriously?" Tom asked.
It was the wrong thing to say: Laura's face took on a very black look, and brown eyes glared from across the room. There was no doubt in anybody's mind that, had the younger Spartan been within striking distance, Laura would have come close to killing him.
"Don't ever say that again," she growled, her grip tightening on her harness until her knuckles went white. "Never say I don't take a mission seriously, don't ever even think I treat my missions as a joke. Don't ever think that!"
"Laura…" John's voice held a warning tone, and she backed off, but the tension still hung in the air around them.
"He was out of line, you know," Lorienna's voice broke the silence. The AI was matter-of-fact as she spoke, possibly the only one unaffected by the exchange. "She takes every mission as seriously as her own breath—I'd say that gives her the right to whatever moments of levity she can snatch. He had no reason to hit below the belt like that."
"Threatening him was a bit much, though," Fred replied.
"Tit for tat, eye for eye, et cetera," Lorienna replied.
"We're close to docking, Lorienna," Laura interrupted, a quick glance darting to the window. "Better shut down for now."
"You got it." The AI fell silent, and Laura fiddled with her harness, both angered and uneasy. He had no right, she thought, but her anger was fading—the kid had no idea, really.
The Pelican touched down in what felt like a landing bay, and Laura quickly undid her harness: she was eager to get out and moving. Mostly to explore the ship and all, but can you really blame me? A gauntleted hand on her arm halted her for a moment, and she turned to see John looking at her.
"You're okay?" It was more of a statement than a question, but she understood.
"Well enough," Laura replied, shrugging. "I don't feel the urge to beat some sense into the kid anymore, so I guess that's a good sign."
"That's not quite what I meant," he muttered, and Laura realized her mistake—he hadn't just been referring to Tom's idiocy.
"Hard to say. For the moment I'm okay, later on…well, I'll deal with that when the time comes." She shouldered her duffel bag and glanced at the entryway. "We need to go before they start wondering where we're at."
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June 27, 2558 0520 hours
Forerunner Dreadnaught Petrarch's Glory
Sol System
Laura glanced around the landing bay of the massive dreadnaught, trying hard to maintain a detached mask: she was quite impressed by some of the fighters in the bay, as well as how everything was detailed and stowed. The UNSC could take a page or two out of this book, she thought.
Aloud she said, "Not bad, all things considered." She wasn't expecting a reply, since the entire group had scattered the minute they'd disembarked: the Spartans to their temporary quarters, Dr. Halsey and the Forerunners to some unknown area, and she had stayed to check out the landing bay.
"Which from you is a compliment," a familiar voice deadpanned from across the room. She looked up in time to see her brother, Captain Matt Morisson, leaning against the bulkhead.
"Matt! I wasn't expecting to see you here! I assumed you'd be on the Apache prepping for departure!" Laura moved forward and gripped her brother's hand in a firm (but gentle, for her part) handshake.
"Remember what Dad used to say about the word 'assume'," Matt chuckled. "All the captains and so forth are meeting here to decide on a game plan before we ship out. No pun intended, of course."
"Of course," Laura grinned. "So who all's in on this?"
"The Shipmaster of the Light of the Prophet, myself, the Forerunner captain and their High Council, you and the Spartans, Dr. Halsey, and some guy called Arbiter."
Laura snickered, trying to imagine the look on John's face when he saw his former compatriot. "This oughta be interesting. C'mon, Stick, lead the way."