Disclaimer: I own nothing from Halo.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Approaching Doom
June 30, 2558 1121 hours
Forerunner Dreadnaught Petrarch's Glory
En Route to unknown system
Laura's knee had recovered admirably, and she was itching to have another go at the Flood holo-simulation. I'll be more careful this time, she thought as she walked to the holographic chambers. While the Flood numbers and types would be unchanged, she planned on programming in the ordinance she'd be carrying on the planet: MA5B assault rifle, a shitload of ammunition, and plasma grenades. Plasma grenades are best, especially when it comes to carrier forms. Still running through potential scenarios and modifications in her head, Laura almost missed the young Forerunner waiting for her in the holo-room.
"Arnyris! I almost ran you over, kid," she chuckled softly, stopping herself just in time.
"Kid?" the young human scowled. "I am nearly twenty-five cycles…"
"And I call everyone kid, little one. Never mind that I am close to fifty cycles," Laura smiled at Arnyris' shocked look—she certainly didn't look her age. "I didn't expect to see you here, young one."
"The others thought you might come here. I offered to watch out for you in the holographic chambers—they told me of your injury." Arnyris hesitated and lowered his voice. "I also need advice on a delicate matter."
"Not sure how much help I can be, but I'll try," Laura answered, shooing him into the room. Deciding he'd fight better when he'd gotten everything off his chest, she went to the terminal and quickly built a program. Within minutes she and the young Forerunner warrior were standing on a rocky ledge over a river. A small rapid below them thundered, and birds sang in trees along the banks. It was here that Laura had come as a child to think, and she couldn't think of a better setting to help the young man through his problems.
"Pretty, isn't it? I used to think my problems through here, when I was younger than you are now." Laura dropped easily and gracefully onto the rock, taking a seat and letting her legs dangle.
"I hardly think you were one to have problems," Arnyris mused.
"More than you'd think, young one. Now, what's on your mind?"
Arnyris hesitated, unsure where to begin. Laura noticed this and chuckled. "It's about Arisaya, isn't it?"
"Yes," he agreed quietly. "I…I wish to court her."
"Then why don't you? There is nothing to stop her, or you, from courting and wedding each other in time, is there?"
"In the laws, no. But Arisaya…I do not know if she returns my feelings."
"Does she know?" Laura asked gently. Arnyris looked down, watching the river flow by, and shook his head. "Why?"
"We grew up together, and when I was younger I was cruel, teasing her for her interests in the sciences, telling her she would never be bound to anyone, that no one would want her. And now…" the boy paused, and Laura could see this was painful for him to admit. "I felt myself being drawn to her long ago, but I kept up with the insults. It seemed foolish to suddenly change my ways, and I fear now I am too late."
A small smile formed on Laura's face, and she reached over, putting one hand on Arnyris' shoulder. "It's never too late, young one. Certainly Corin didn't think that of Alaya, anymore than John did of me."
"I do not understand," Arnyris muttered. Laura nodded and began to explain.
"I was on my guard from the minute the Spartans appeared in my home, convinced that ONI had sent them to kill me. And even when I fell in love with John, I kept him away—ONI used the ones I loved against me, and I refused to let him become one of their pawns. It backfired, though, and for the longest time I thought he hated me. Alaya was in a similar situation: she began by hating Corin for his arrogance—though in fairness he felt contempt for the scientists of his day. Even when he and Alaya realized their feelings for each other, she kept them apart because of a promise she'd made to her dying father: a promise she'd taken completely out of context."
"The promise to protect her brother Marin," Arnyris nodded, understanding.
"Yes. But even then, Corin waited for her, and never stopped loving her, anymore than John stopped loving me." Laura smiled, thinking of all the times she and John had argued, all the fistfights, and the shared nights.
"Which one is John?" Arnyris asked. Laura grinned and replied, "Guess. You'll figure it out, I think." Getting up and stretching, she walked along the rock ridge to where she knew the computer terminal would be. The river vanished with the touch of a button, and was replaced with a Forerunner hall. Laura programmed a few additional alterations, and within minutes there were assault rifles, grenades, a pair of energy swords, and even a few stray Sentinels.
"Ready when you are, young one," Laura called; Arnyris nodded and grabbed one of the assault rifles and several grenades. Laura grabbed the energy swords and strapped them to her belt, scooped up as many grenades as she could, and hefted another rifle.
"Didn't think you'd be doing this without us, did you?" Fred's voice broke in behind her; moments later he and the other Spartans had appropriated what was left of the assault rifles and grenades.
"Is everybody babysitting me all of a sudden?" Laura groused, but her eyes were twinkling.
"Someone needs to make sure you don't kill yourself before the mission," Linda smiled.
"Besides, we all could use the practice," Mark, one of the younger S-IIIs pointed out. "Only one with any experience—besides you and your botched holo-sim—is the Master Chief."
"You would bring that up," Laura smirked. "Alright, fine, but I'll need to key in a few extra enemies. Gimme a few seconds—and Linda?" Her smirk turned into a full-fledged grin as she winked at the other Spartan. "Find cover."
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The MA5B rattled in her hands as Laura mowed down yet another combat form. They just keep coming! The clip ran out and she found herself faced with a flood of infection forms.
"Fire in the hole!" she yelled, throwing a grenade. Between the initial explosion and the shrapnel, she wiped out most of the pod-people (as she jokingly thought of them). She fumbled for a new clip, but she barely got it in when a combat for leaped at her; the clip may have been in, but she hadn't gotten to cock the rifle. SHIT! SHITSHITSHIT!!!! Swinging the rifle butt toward the ugly thing, Laura managed to knock it back long enough for Ash to pump it full of lead.
"Aim for the chests!" she called; she was so into the situation that she didn't realize she was speaking in the Forerunner tongue. "And do not let the infectors near the corpses, destroy them first!" The combat forms were swarming in close, too close for the battle rifle; Laura ran back as far as she could and tossed her rifle, exchanging it for 'her' energy swords. Take this, she thought grimly as she ignited the blades.
It wasn't long before she forgot herself—which was actually a pretty common occurrence. As she'd explained it to Dr. Halsey months ago: "Once I start swinging and find a rhythm, that's it. I lose myself in the patterns and the dances, to the point where I only stop when the music does. That's part of the reason I practice with the music: so I can find the right rhythms and then fall into them later on. The downside is that it might take a lot to bring me back."
Slashing, dodging, blocking, slicing—Laura was a whirlwind of death. Patterns came as naturally as breathing, and she moved with fluidity from foe to foe. Before long she was clearing the south end of the room by herself, with some assistance from Linda, and had slipped into a new, more complicated series of maneuvers: Forerunner stances.
"Shift your weight, little one, and stay on your toes. You are a dancer, Alaya, and combat is your dance. Never let your feet fall flat, never stay in one place for long. Your body is as much weapon as tool, use it."
Bending backwards, Laura swung one leg out and shifted quickly, keeping her weight balanced as she spun around to a new target and buried one blade in its chest. Never stopping, she whirled again and dropped into a split, sending her sword straight up into a combat form. Then her leg snapped around and she spun to her feet, dancing her way to a new target. The new patterns called her, wrapped around her, and pulled her in.
John noticed the room was rapidly draining of Flood, and what was left was concentrated in the southern end. A rapid glance quickly turned to an astonished stare: Laura was dancing with the Flood. The energy swords were stabbing and swinging, and her body was bending and twisting with more grace and precision than he'd seen before. The Spartan twirled, raised a leg and hooked her ankle on a combat form's neck, then somehow used it as leverage to leap into the air while simultaneously skewering its chest—John was watching and still had no idea how she managed it. Laura pirouetted gracefully away from a carrier form as it began to inflate, and slid her blades home in two combat forms right as it blew: she used the explosion to propel herself into a combat form blades-first.
"Suppression fire!" Fred yelled: the carrier form had spewed more infection forms, and there were still several of those roaming around already. John and the other Spartans unleashed a barrage of bullets, and next to him Arnyris unleashed beams of destruction with a fallen Sentinel's beam weapon. Before long the Flood had been decimated and the holographic simulation was over. Laura stood and brushed back a few strands of dark hair that had come out of her braid, staring at the group with a puzzled expression. The way she was looking at them actually scared John, as hard as that may be to believe—her normally fiery and expressive dark eyes were distant, as if she wasn't really there in the room, and something about her entire demeanor was way off.
"Captain, why do you stare at me? Am I not entitled to some exercise as well as you?" John's translation implant, complete with the Forerunner lexicon Laura and Arisaya had put together, translated the words into his worst fear: this wasn't Laura Morisson standing in front of them.
"Laura…" he whispered, trying to reach the Spartan. Laura cocked her head, a questioning look on her face.
"Laura? Who is Laura?" she asked. Before anyone could do or say anything more, her hands went to her head and she cried out in pain. Laura dropped to her knees, clutching her head in her hands and rocking back and forth; John took a few hesitant steps forward, unsure how to handle this. When the Spartan made no move, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head, and John saw immediately that it was Laura and not Alaya that looked back at him.
"It's…it's okay," she whispered, looking a bit shell shocked. Confusion and worry played across her face, but she was trying to stay calm, or at least look like she was. "I'm fine now, I think."
"What just happened here?" Ash asked.
"I think Alaya took control," Laura answered, her voice a bit higher than usual. "The last thing I remember before I got my head back was fighting the Flood. I shifted into some new close-combat patterns, and after that…everything's a blank."
"You were using Forerunner stances," Arnyris murmured in amazement. "I have never seen anyone move as smoothly as you did now."
"It was definitely something else," Linda added as she dropped down from a column and jogged over. "You'll have to teach us those maneuvers."
"I would, and gladly," Laura began, "except for one slight problem—I don't even remember what I did."
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July 1, 2558 0000 hours
Forerunner Dreadnaught Petrarch's Glory
En route to unknown system
Laura lay awake in her bunk, watching the blue-black fields of Slipspace streaking by, unable and afraid to sleep. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't rest now. Her episode in the holo-sim early that day had her worried—this was the first time she had actually lost her own body and mind to Alaya's memories. And what happened once could easily happen again; oddly enough, she considered that whole prospect to be even scarier than the nightmare that was the Flood.
"I looked into the darkness/And could not turn away," she chanted softly, her words wrapping around her. "For it was my face I saw/Though in dark, not in day." The words were from some forgotten Forerunner poem, one that Alaya had enjoyed—and for her part, Laura understood. The poem accurately reflected their inability to change what they saw as their fates: Alaya had believed herself trapped by her oath, and Laura was trapped by her augmentations, by what she had been created to be. No path out for me, she thought grimly. Even if ONI let me go, I can't exactly fit in to normal society.
"I am sorry I did what I did to you, little one," a voice whispered in her head. Laura's head snapped up in surprise, almost bouncing off the bulkhead (hey, not everyone can be coordinated 24/7).
"Alaya?" she whispered. "What…how…?" This was a definite first: her previous encounters with Alaya's memories had been solely flashbacks, dreams and unusual skills. To suddenly hear a disembodied voice in her head was something she could easily have gone without.
"You are coming closer to a Forerunner world, little one, a world that I frequented often."
"So? I've been on Forerunner worlds before without a problem. Why would this happen now?"
"I am not entirely sure myself—contrary to many of your beliefs, death does not answer any questions. All I can say is that I am growing stronger the closer we come to this world. In time I may even be able to take form." The voice sounded regretful, almost human—which it might have been if its owner were still alive. "My strength grows while yours is weakened, and for that I am sorry."
"Sorry if I don't take you at your word," Laura grumbled.
"I cannot blame you, and believe me when I say it is hard to not have a body. But I will not take what was never mine, I swear it." Alaya's voice in her head was sad. "I did not mean to take over, but the battle, the thrill, the dance…I could not resist the pull."
"I have a similar problem once in a while, Alaya. But what happens if this costs me my life?"
"Were I to take your place in a battle, I would not fail you easily. And there may be times when you shall need my help—I know Stronghold well."
"We'll see when we get there," Laura muttered, laying back down.
"We are there," Alaya's voice murmured as it faded. She felt the deceleration beneath her feet, an indicator that they were dropping out of Slipspace, and sat up once again. Outside of her window a planet held her gaze: green and blue swirled in a perfect sphere, an almost exact copy of Earth.
"Stronghold," Laura whispered, a sense of foreboding growing at the back of her mind.