Dun-dun-dun! Last chapter! Hope you enjoyed, but be alert for the epilogue. By the way, in case anyone was wondering, the poem recited is entitled "I Looked", written especially for this chapter. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Choices
July 4, 2558 1312 hours
Sangheili Encampment
UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes
North America
These young ones are more trouble than they appeared, Aro 'Benamee thought for what seemed the millionth time since he took the children under his wing. The young Demons had escaped their instructors yet again, and the entire contingent of Sangheili, Unggoy and others were busy searching for them. Perhaps I shall tie them to a wall for the next few cycles, he thought, but without anger. It was hard to be angry with the young ones, for a number of reasons: first and foremost, they already showed the potential to be skilled warriors, even as young at they were—the constant escapes from their teachers were proof of that. They were also children, and while they needed more discipline than most Sangheili young ones, even 'Benamee couldn't fault them for their games and amusement, mostly because their 'games' used much of their training and helped them practice. But above all that, they were his friends' young, and he respected Laura enough to train and safeguard her young while she was away. Though I hope she returns soon, the young ones are wearing everyone's patience thin.
"Sam, Sam, lookit, lookit!" From a short distance away he spotted the little humans near a warehouse at the edge of the human camp: Kelly, who he knew to be the more creative of the pair, was pointing out an old, rusty drain that hung from the building. From the drain hung a flowering vine, with one deep violet bloom as large as his clawed hand.
"Wanna get it?" Sam answered, and even 'Benamee could see the wheels turning in the twins' minds. Almost without blinking the pair moved to a stack of old crates that lay nearby—from what 'Benamee could see, they were filled with ammunition left over from the war. Sloppy, for the humans to leave such things lying out and unguarded. Suppose someone came and made off with them? Still, he kept his silence and watched, ready in case the children came to harm.
"It's not movin'," Sam grunted, trying to shove one box closer to the drain.
"Move back, I wanna try somethin'," Kelly grinned, reaching for a length of pipe nearby. Sam seemed to understand, and used all his strength to tilt the box just enough for the pipe to slide under; Kelly then tipped it on its side. It moved, certainly—and burst open, scattering the primitive projectiles that humans favored in their guns.
"Ooooooh, wonder what these are," Kelly murmured.
"Duh, Kelly, Mom has these in the secret cupboard, remember?" I must remember that, Laura will want to know her supplies are no longer safe. Deciding that the two had caused enough mischief for one day, 'Benamee stepped forward loudly; Sam and Kelly jumped up, guilty looks on their young faces.
"I see I've arrived just in time, little ones," the Sangheili rumbled. "Just in time to keep you from harm. And why are you here, rather than at your lessons?"
"We just wanted to go on an adventure," Sam whined; 'Benamee scowled.
"You whine like a newborn—have you learned nothing? Warriors do not whimper like babes, nor do they abandon their duties. They accept their orders and punishments with equal dignity." 'Benamee felt a small rush of pride as the two little ones snapped to attention and ceased whining. "Now, off to your lessons, and your teachers will tell me if you do not arrive."
I hope Laura returns soon, he thought as they ran off. Gazing at the clear sky, he prayed that she was safe and whole.
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July 10, 2558
Forerunner Dreadnaught Petrarch's Glory
En route to Sol System
She was floating in blackness, a sea of endless black night. There were no stars, no lights, nothing but a soft warm universe free from pain, a dark comforting twilight.
"She does not belong here, not yet." Whose voice was that? Who was there? She tried to speak, but no words formed.
"She will not stay for long, you know this." Another voice—it was so familiar, who was it?
"It will seem long to her, if I know anything about my angel." Her Nana's voice, she knew that one all too well—oh, how she missed it!
"They left her here, abandoned. Why would she awake from it?" Another voice, familiar and strange all at once.
"They had no choice, none at all. She must remain until she can be healed." The second voice—she knew her! Alaya!
"The child is aware of us," the first voice spoke—Thaddeus, she remembered.
"Then we should help her," Nana murmured. A faint light grew from somewhere she couldn't see, and she found herself in Nana's bed. Oh, how she remembered this bed—she and Nana shared it when she was small. The worn quilt that she'd fingered so curiously as a child was up to her chin, and she felt one of Nana's funny pillows under her head and neck.
"You're as wild as I remember you, angel," Nana chuckled, and in spite of herself she smiled.
"Where…where am I?" Her voice was cracking, and a gnarled brown hand offered her a glass.
"Drink slowly, child," Thaddeus cautioned. "You are still very weak."
She nodded and sipped from the glass, Alaya helping her to sit up. There had been one more voice…she saw Corin seated on Nana's wooden chair, the chair where Nana left her petticoats and sweater at night.
"You are in a waiting place, little warrior," Corin intoned—his voice sounded so much like John's. "This is not the first time you've been here, I think."
"No, I have been here once before, only in Nana's kitchen then." She looked at her smiling grandmother. "Why am I in bed?"
"You need rest, Laurabeth," came the answer. "Even for you, you overdid things. Had it not been for this young lady, you would've died on that planet."
"I could not leave her there, not after all she has done for me," Alaya protested.
"Alaya, beloved, no one is faulting you. If anything she commends you for your actions."
Pain, waves of searing, unimaginable pain. She cried out, upsetting the glass the old San 'Shyuum held—it felt like someone was slicing into her liver.
"They have arrived," Corin murmured. "She has returned home once more."
"Does that mean they'll be taking care of my baby for once?" Nana sounded angry, and she would've laughed if it didn't hurt so much.
"She has some friends, cesea," Alaya smiled; she recognized the Forerunner word for grandmother. "They will not give her up so easily."
Another wave of searing pain, flared across her ribs, and the four—spirits? ghosts?—regarded her solemnly. "Take care of yourself, little one," her grandmother whispered.
As she spiraled away, she heard Alaya's voice chanting:
I looked into the darkness,
And could not turn away.
For it was my face I saw,
Though in dark, not in day.
I walked alone in daylight,
No laughter could I hear.
For just as darkness follows day,
So joy is chased by fear.
I whispered to the moonlight,
No answer did it give
Of how all life is to survive
If they so fear to live.
I stared into the darkness,
My face stared back at me.
And though behind me light did rise,
I could not turn to see.
Before me lies in darkness
The road that I must take.
And even though I choose my path,
There is no choice to make.
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July 18, 2558 1023 hours
Adams Medical Facility
UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes
North America
Her hearing awoke first, trying to sort out the babble of voices around her. Sounds like the river almost, she smiled mentally. Her body resisted movement—dimly she wondered how long she'd been out of it—but she tried to force open her eyes.
"Mommy's wakin' up!" The young boy's yell almost shattered her hearing, but she couldn't fault him—if he was getting this enthusiastic over her waking, things must've been bad.
"Laurabeth, can you hear me?" Mom, she thought.
"Mama?" her voice croaked. "That you?"
"Yes, sweetheart," her mother answered. "How are you feeling?"
"Can't move much…eyes don't wanna open." A glass was tilted against her lips, and she felt cool sweet water shaking against her mouth; she drank it eagerly.
"She'll be fine if she's gulping like that," Kelly snickered; the Spartan sounded happier than Laura'd ever heard her before. Finally managing to pry her eyes open, Laura took note of the group of people in the room: Kelly and Fred were arm-and-arm in a corner, John and her mother were beside her bed. Sam and Kelly were in her bed, Kelly struggling to hold the glass of water steady.
"Bright lights," she whispered once the glass was empty.
"Not really, you've just been out for a while," John murmured. Lightly fingering a lock of her hair, he continued, "About two weeks since we pulled you out of Stronghold."
"Dr. Halsey stashed you in cryo almost as soon as we got to the dreadnaught," Fred added. "You only just came out of it a few hours ago."
Makes sense, considering whatever I dreamed—or was it a dream? Trying to mover her hand, she was rewarded with a faint motion on her left side; Sam, who was on that side, snuggled under her arm, while Kelly did the same on her right.
"We been good, mommy," Kelly stated, her pixie-voice filling the room. Sam added, "We been training with Uncle Aro every day, he taught us lots."
"I'm sure he did, little ones," Laura whispered. "I'm sure he did."
Dr. Gedeon noticed how Laura's voice was fading—she was falling asleep again. "Visit's over, little ones, Mommy needs her rest. How about we go make her a get-well present?" she added, seeing the downcast looks, which instantly reversed at her suggestion. The twins allowed their father to lift them off the bed, and scampered after her. Taking the hint, Fred and Kelly followed, leaving John alone with the convalescent Spartan.
"Told you so," he whispered, lightly kissing the top of her head.
"Gonna hold it over…me?" Laura murmured softly. She's fading fast, he thought. Smiling, he shook his head.
"Get some rest, alaya," he whispered. "I'll be right here when you wake up."
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September 4, 2558 1525 hours
UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes
North America
It had taken over a month for her injuries to heal, and even now she still had some wounds that hadn't quite finished mending. At the moment she was walking with a noticeable limp as she made her way to the administration building—she had a meeting to attend with some of the UNSC's top brass. Her cane tapped up the stairs and down the hallways as Laura walked to the biggest meeting of her life, and hopefully the most life-altering one since her drafting into the SPARTAN-II program.
Before me lies in darkness/The road that I must take. And even though I choose my path/There is no choice to make. The words rang as clearly in her mind as the day she'd heard them, the day she came back from the dead, as it were. And even though the poem was about having no choice, Laura knew she had choices available to her—all she needed to do was take them.
The doors in front of her swung open, and beyond them she saw familiar faces: General West, Admiral Hood, and Ackerson, the bastard. There were others she didn't recognize, but for now she disregarded them. Remember what you're doing, and who you're doing it for, she thought.
"SPARTAN-000, BLADE," Lord Hood started things off. "You are to be commended for the data you brought back. It's been most invaluable to date."
"Thank you, sir," she answered, her grip tightening on her cane—'Benamee had made it for her, and her name was inscribed on the curling handle in Covenant symbols. "I can only hope it hasn't been used to create more Flood forms."
"No, we've had more of those than we can handle already," one of the unnamed faces commented. Laura couldn't help the half-smile that formed on her face.
"And regarding that, I understand you have a request for us?" West picked up. Bless the man, he doesn't miss a beat.
"Yes, sir, I do." Laura took a deep breath, then said in as clear a voice as she could manage, "I would like to request a release from active duty."
Judging by the reactions, it wasn't what they were expecting. Jaws dropped all over the room, and a babble of voices rose up, each one trying to shout the others down. When order had finally been restored, Lord Hood regarded the Spartan sternly.
"Is there any particular reason for this request?"
"Yes, sir, several in fact. The most obvious being that I'm not just a soldier anymore—I have two young children that need my attention. I can't expect everyone else to drop what they're doing and babysit when I go on a mission for ever, and I don't trust ONI to let them be when I go off. And after I nearly died for a second time on a mission, I realized that I can't keep going the way I'm going anymore. I'd like to come out as intact as possible while I still can. If it takes more than a few weeks for me to recover from injuries, then there's no way I can continue risking my life and possibly leaving my family behind."
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Ackerson was practically grinning. Laura simply smiled.
"Yes, in fact—a little birdie told me that a number of SPARTAN training camps would be cropping up. I daresay one of them could use an instructor somewhere along the way, wouldn't you?"
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"I can't believe they accepted it," she murmured later that night. The bed creaked as John rolled over to face her.
"You brought up a lot of valid points, alaya—and you can't exactly hide the fact that you're hurt." A frown marred his features as he traced the latest batch of scars, still puffy and red from the many surgeries used to repair her nearly-shattered body.
"And here I was hoping I'd heal overnight, like you seem to," she teased, tapping one finger lightly on his chest. It was one of the many things they disagreed on, how she supposedly needed time to heal while he was ready for a mission right there.
"At least you only have to worry about the really important missions from now on, and with those training camps…"John's voice trailed off as he began to kiss her neck, grinning as he heard her gasp—he knew he'd hit the right spot.
"Nice…nice to know I won't get…get bored…" Damn, he's gotten better at that, was the last coherent thought of the night.
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May 10, 2578 0900 hours
Williams Training Facility
North America
The young recruits shifted uneasily in the practice room, wondering about their next class. Each one of the teenage soldiers had been hand-selected for elite martial arts training almost immediately after their augmentations, and had been shipped here the minute their recovery period was over.
"Ten-hut!" Each of the fifteen recruits snapped to perfect attention as their instructor came into view: an older woman with stern features and a dark brown braid streaked with silver. There were no ribbons or medals on the all-black uniform, and the only insignia was a pair of crossed silver knives, but there was no question that she was a SPARTAN-II. She walked briskly to the front of the room, regarding the recruits with a piercing, assessing glare.
"At ease," she ordered, watching the teens relax slightly. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she began a speech that had been recited over and over for the last twenty years.
"You are SPARTAN soldiers, the best of the best of the UNSC Navy. You've learned more in your classes than any other enlisted soldier or Academy graduate, and you've survived challenges that would kill any normal Marine. You are a weapon, the finest in the UNSC. Those of you that stand here now were hand-picked to learn even more than you were taught: you will be beaten, bruised, shattered and reshaped from what you are now into the sharpest, most deadly weapon in the UNSC military. There will be no coddling, no slacking, and no favors for any of you; some of you will curse the day you were selected for this program. In the end, though, you will be the best that we can make you, you will be able to take on the odds and win.
"This is your last chance—anyone who wants to back out now can do so. After today, you're in it for the long haul. So if you think you can't handle what I'm about to throw at you, there's the door." Not one recruit even so much as looked at the door, and the instructor allowed a half-smile to form on her face.
"I see you think you're up for it, but we'll see just how capable you really are. From now on you're in my hands, and I expect nothing less than the best—and neither will the battlefield. But I promise you, when you're done here you'll be capable of anything." And let's hope none of you fold before the gambling starts, Laura thought to herself, but she wasn't worried, since these were the best recruits she'd seen yet.