Author's Note: In light of wallsofmine's review on the last chapter, I thought I'd give some backstory to why things played out the way they did in my story, since it might not be as obvious if you aren't inside my head haha.
In my world, after Wattinree rose to power he determined that humanity didn't need to be exterminated, but absorbed into the Covenant. This means that he offered the colonies that they discovered a choice between glassing and annihilation or stepping into line - and the vast majority chose the latter. Because of this, the Cole Protocol became ineffectual and Reach was discovered just ten years into the conflict (in 2535).
A huge part of John's inexperience comes because he was battling the Covenant for less than ten years total, and then had to go on the run and become a smuggler to survive after that.
Hope that clears some things up! Please keep reviewing, I really appreciate being able to improve my writing and it helps a lot when others call out what they see.
2010 Hours, January 11, 2543
Hestia System, Planet Meridian
Fred had just finished his workout in the cargo bay and was cleaning his equipment when the clang sounded on the door that was exposed to Meridian's climate. He turned to Avery, who removed his earbuds and stepped off of Kelly's treadmill.
"I'll get the ladies," the older man said, jogging toward the radio in the depths of the hold. Fred slowly stepped forward, allowing Avery time to contact the bridge while drawing his M6C on his way to the door.
Cautiously, the former soldier peered through the small window in the center of the door. When he registered who he was looking at in the darkness of Meridian's night, he sighed and heaved the metal door open. "You were supposed to radio that you were on your way," he grumbled as he holstered his sidearm, allowing Miranda to wedge her hoop skirts through the door.
When he turned back to the girl, Fred noticed her face was a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness. In a flash his hand was back on the grip of his pistol, but it was too late – half a dozen men armed with cut-down assault rifles filed in through the door behind the young mechanic.
Following after them, Badger strutted through the door with a confident ease. "Seems you lost yourselves a little lamb," he said, gesturing to Miranda as he took in the entirety of the hold.
"Mighty decent of you, bringing her back," Fred answered, pulling Miranda by the shoulder until he was firmly positioned between her and Badger. "Now you'd best scamper off – I fear you're depriving a village somewhere of an idiot."
"Charming as ever, you are," Badger said disingenuously. "But I'm afraid I ain't going nowhere. You see, our dear Johnny boy has got hisself in a spot of trouble this evening."
Fred turned his shoulders enough to catch Miranda in his peripherals. "You better not have had anything to do with that," he warned under his breath.
The girl shook her head vigorously. "I wasn't even there," she defended. "Some Elite said something nasty to Cortana, and the captain punched him. Not my fault at all."
Fred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What kind of trouble?" he asked.
"The kind that lands you in a lodging for the night so you don't run off from your sword duel in the morning," Badger answered as he paced around the hold.
By now Kelly was barreling down the stairs, Linda not far behind her. "A duel with swords?" the runner asked incredulously. "Sounds like we have a jailbreak on our hands."
Avery nodded, turning to Badger. "We've got until morning then. Do you know what lodging he's being held in?"
Badger looked back and forth from one crewmember to the next. "Oh deary me, this is embarrassing," he said, a look of genuine surprise on his face, "I'm afraid a few of you seem to have misunderstood my business here."
Fred crossed his arms over his chest. "You mean to keep us from doing what my crew is keen on doing."
The dirty-toothed smile returned to Badger's face. "Right you are," he said. "You see, Meridian is my home. I have to abide by the laws of its people – you lot don't have a particularly successful record of living by somebody else's rules, and that reflects poorly on my business."
The little man wandered over to the weight bench Fred just finished wiping down, straddled it, and slowly lowered himself into a seated position. "So, for the rest of the night, we're all going to engage in some personal bonding time."
Fred sighed, lifting his hands to rub at the dull ache already forming behind his temples.
Given a choice between a sword duel to the death and an evening spent with Badger . . . he would have chosen the swords.
John thumbed the activation key on the odd, ornate cylinder he found beside his bed. It was awkward for creatures without an Elite's hand structure – he had to combine his first and last two fingers to make room for the point in the center of the hilt. When the blade ignited, it bathed the room in a harsh blue light.
Slowly, he took a few practice swings. Skilled a fighter though he was, dueling with a sword wasn't exactly his forte. Given the Elites' antiquated honor system and insistence on bladed duels, he felt it was a safe assumption that he had unwittingly issued a challenge to a superior opponent.
Still, he'd been in far more than his fair share of combat against superior opponents. All he really needed was some practice.
At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
He continued making his slow swings around his luxury prison cell. When the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him took him by surprise, he whipped around so quickly that he nearly bisected a marble column in the center of the room.
"I see you're getting acquainted with the hardware," Cortana commented dryly, turning sideways to sidle past his extended blade in order to come closer to him. "I'm glad I came when I did – unsupervised you're liable to burn the whole mountainside down."
John deactivated the weapon with the flick of his thumb, dropping his arm as well in order to allow Cortana plenty of room in the suite without running the risk of burning her eyes out on the sharpened points of a plasma sword. "What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, inspecting the hilt carefully. "You were supposed to go back to Serenity with Miranda."
"You're going to be fighting for your life tomorrow," Cortana said, casually examining the trappings of his room. "I thought you could use some company."
John reignited the blade as she spoke, taking a few more experimental swings with it. When he overreached with one swipe of the sword and cut a gouge into one of the room's stone walls he cursed, deactivating the blade and throwing it across the room. "What I could really use is someone who can teach me to fight with one of these ridiculous things!" he shouted, exasperated.
The doctor sighed, retrieving the hilt and walking to John's side. "You're using it wrong," she said, igniting the two-sided energy blade once more. "You're accustomed to swinging things with enough weight to balance your movements and using that balance as part of your attack. The energy sword is different." She struck a fighting stance, then stepped through a series of memorized stances. "The blade is weightless, but it will cut through nearly anything save a similar weapon. That means you don't need power to wield it, you need control."
John watched with rapt attention as she moved. He had to admit there was something alluring about a beautiful woman who could carry a deadly weapon with such ease.
Cortana finished her practiced forms, then turned to John. "Here," she said, offering the deactivated hilt to him, "get a feel for it."
He took the handle from her, clumsily mimicking what she just finished performing. "This isn't working," he grumbled after a while, growing more frustrated with every moment.
"That's because you're still trying to force it," Cortana sighed. She took the blade from his hand once more. Then she stepped forward, pressing her back tight against his chest and using her free hand to make him encircle her wrist in his grip. "You have to be smooth, not strong. I'm going to go through the forms again – keep up with me."
She then began moving, slowly enough to let him keep pace with her. Whenever he did something wrong and lost contact with her body, she patiently waited for him to catch back up before moving on to the next step. It almost felt to John like they were dancing again, though this time it was more exciting.
It took him a while, what with his focus being split between the deadly weapon and the even more dangerous woman pressed tight against him, but he finally performed the movements to Cortana's satisfaction.
"That's more like it," she said, smiling up at him.
He smiled in return, letting himself indulge in a moment wasted simply staring at her bright face. When that moment passed and he realized just how tightly he and Cortana were pressed against one another, he coughed and took a step back. Likewise, Cortana stepped forward to create her own separation between them.
"Good," she said, her voice stilted and awkward. "That was much better. Keep practicing for a while, but don't forget to get some sleep tonight. You'll need it." She abruptly turned and made for the door, tossing an "I'll see you in the morning," over her shoulder.
John watched her go, waiting until she was halfway through the door before asking, "Where exactly did you learn all that, Doc?"
Cortana paused in the doorway, turning back to him with a sad smile on her face. "You and I learned to survive the Covenant very differently, John," she said. She started back out the door but turned back once more. "You have to be careful tomorrow. 'Volir was a shipmaster, and a master swordsman during his time with the Covenant. He'll kill you."
"Only if I die," John answered with a rueful grin.
Cortana shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Just . . . take care of yourself," she whispered. Then she slipped out the door and was gone.
"If we want this to work, what we need is a diversion," Fred said quietly. They all thought for a moment in silence before Fred said, "One of us could get naked."
"And who's going to do that? You?" Kelly asked, inclining her head in the large man's direction.
Fred smirked. "You asking me to?" he fired back.
Kelly looked almost taken aback for a moment, but soon she was leaning in to offer another retort.
At the sound of Avery conspicuously clearing his throat, however, everyone fell silent and turned to see what he was subtly nodding to. There, in the back of the hold, Joy was wandering through the medbay doors.
Miranda surged to her feet, trying to gently prod Joy back out the way she had come, while Fred and Avery rose and made their way behind Badger, hoping to keep him distracted from the newcomer.
Unfortunately, Joy took Miranda's gentle prodding for a game and soon the girl was laughing out loud.
"Who's this then?" Badger asked, brushing past the pair between himself and Joy. "What's your name, love?" he asked when he made it to the other end of the bay.
The girl's gaze rose moonily to the ceiling, ignoring the small man, while Miranda awkwardly got out, "Just another passenger." The mechanic put herself between Badger and Joy.
"Just another passenger, is it? Then why are you lot trying so hard to keep her quiet?" Leaning around Miranda, the little man smiled wide. The effect was quite disquieting. "Now come on, love, you got something to say? Out with it."
Fred's hands balled into fists as Miranda stammered out something about Joy being shy, but Joy herself cut everyone off.
"Sure I've got things to say," she said, mimicking Badger's accent as perfectly as she had John's weeks before. For some reason, Fred found this accent far more unsettling coming from the small girl.
"But why should I say them to you?" the girl carried on without missing a beat. "I know your kind – you cut and run. First from your family, then from your first employer, then your first crew . . . you only stay so long as your own safety is sure." She looked him up and down, the condescension in her eyes transcending her young age and communicating a withering disappointment.
"I expect you fancy yourself a man of standing 'round here. All I see is a sad little king of a sad little hill." With that she turned on her heel, leaving Badger with his jaw hanging almost to the floor. "Let me know if anybody interesting turns up," she sighed as she left the hold.
The cargo bay remained silent for several seconds, everyone staring in wonderment at the door.
Badger's face slowly morphed itself into a grin. "You lot ought to keep that one around. I like her."
The fog had yet to clear on the 'Volir compound. It was an idyllic scene, really. Or at least, John would think so if it weren't the place where he was likely to die.
They stood in a small clearing in a green orchard, far removed from the dust and grime of the city. Two dozen or so people were gathered around, in a slew of new outfits and getups. John had a hard time imagining that, with all the money in that crowd, they didn't have anything more compelling to do than watch a couple of people walk out and kill each other on a crisp, dewy morning.
"Find your focus," 'Refum reprimanded him. "Do not worry what the others are here for. Worry only about your opponent. Your target. When you see him, what do you feel?"
Across the clearing, 'Volir casually spoke with what John assumed was his second.
"I want to poke his eyes out and shove them down his throat. How's that sound?"
'Refum let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. "That's a start. Use it."
The Jackal from the night before made his way out to the center of the clearing. He raised his arms up, and the quiet chatter around the clearing died out. "The field of battle is a somber place," the alien said calmly. "One of these combatants today shall spill their blood here. Let the duel begin."
John stared as the diminutive birdlike creature stepped off the pitch. He didn't even realize the fight was beginning until 'Volir strode forward and ignited his blade. He quickly made his way forward, thumbing the activation for the blade in his own hand.
He and 'Volir paced in a wide circle, slowly drawing closer to one another. The Elite swiped at him, but John easily sidestepped the move, in the same movement thrusting his own blade forward. 'Volir barely managed to dance away from the strike, leaving his clothing singed.
"Let's be careful now, Lettie," John said flippantly, "they tell me these things hurt."
His opponent said nothing, instead lunging forward with an overhand strike John barely managed to block with his own weapon. 'Volir struck once, twice, then thrice in quick succession. On the third swing he made a shallow cut down John's leg.
The captain groaned, doing his best to ignore the searing pain traveling up his leg. In anger, he lunged forward in a jab that 'Volir easily parried. Not willing to give up his momentum, John lunged again to much the same effect.
The Elite danced back a few paces, separating himself from John. Laughing, 'Volir placed his sword behind his back.
John didn't know what the Sangheili was playing at with his showboating, but he dashed forward to take advantage of the opportunity 'Volir was affording him. It wasn't until too late that he heard Cortana cry out behind him, watching helplessly as 'Volir spun to one side to avoid his lunge and plunged his own blade five centimeters into the captain's left side.
John clamped one hand over the twin wounds, barely keeping pace as 'Volir suddenly loosed a lightning-fast torrent of attacks. While he managed to deflect the Sangheili's blade for the most part, he could feel a new line of burning pain etch its way across his right arm.
In one last desperate gambit, John thrust his blade forward once more. 'Volir turned his sword on an angle that allowed the two weapons to pass through one another at the open space between the blades, and with a flick of his wrist bisected John's hilt.
The captain stared in disbelief at his hand, still holding one half of an energy blade's handle.
'Volir sneered above him, rearing back with his sword arm. "I told you I was going to enjoy this."
"Wait!" Cortana shouted, and John managed to crane his neck far enough to see her running toward them. "I'll go with you, just don't kill him."
The Sangheili turned his eyes on Cortana, the amusement at seeing her grovel clear on his face.
While he was thus distracted, John lunged forward and punched the Elite, swinging his fist so that the still red-hot metal where the hilt had been severed left a brand in his face.
'Volir staggered backward, his free hand coming up to the point of impact and gingerly touching the burn. While he was dazed, John lunged forward once more and took hold of the Elite's sword arm. Bringing one elbow down hard into the Sangheili's forearm, he used his other hand to pry the still-functioning energy blade from 'Volir's grasp, using his foot to shove off of the Elite with enough strength to knock him on his back.
John quickly stepped forward and pointed the tip of the pronged sword into 'Volir's chest.
"Finish him," 'Refum encouraged, appearing at John's side. "For a warrior to be beaten but breathing is to be branded a coward. It is a humiliation worse than death."
John considered 'Refum's words for a long moment, his chest heaving from the exertion of the duel. Finally, he pulled the blade back a few centimeters. "Sure, it must be humiliating to find yourself lying on the ground, staring up at the better man. Especially when that better man refuses to end your worthless life."
He let a smarmy grin cross his face. "But you know what they say, Lettie. Mercy is the sign of a great man." He let the blade dangle, burning a few centimeters into the Elite's chest. "I guess I'm just a good man," John amended, until he stabbed the Sangheili once more for good measure. "Well . . . I'm alright."
While 'Volir groaned, in frustration as much as in pain, the captain deactivated his weapon and dropped it into the grass. He attempted to take a step, but his injured leg threatened to buckle beneath him. Cortana rushed to his side, allowing him to lean on her shoulders as she steadied him with an arm around his torso.
"You did not have to injure him," 'Refum said, standing next to the pair.
"I know I didn't," John answered, "that part just turned out to be really funny."
'Refum chortled, his head bobbing up and down slightly. Finally, he struck out his hand. "Will you work that hard to defend my property?"
John nodded, clasping 'Refum's outstretched hand and firmly shaking it.
The Elite offered his approximation of a smile. "Then expect my cattle in your hold by nightfall." He then turned to his own people, leaving Cortana to support a limping John back in the direction of Serenity.
John considered being shocked, or even outraged. Badger never said anything about cattle. Eventually, he dismissed the notion. Money was money.
"Well," John grinned to Cortana as she supported him in limping off the 'Volir estate, "That was a mighty fine shindig."
"That's it," Fred said under his breath, "sun is up. It's time to make our move."
Kelly and Linda nodded. Avery had already gone to lock the younger women into the engine room in case things went sideways, leaving them as protected from Badger and his crew as they could. Badger's men were yawning, scratching at their eyes, and otherwise showing signs of fatigue after spending an entire night standing guard over the ship. If they were going to rescue their crewmate, it was now or never.
On a nod from Fred, the trio slowly began working their way toward the various scattered men and aliens occupying their ship. Aside from one small knife and some weight equipment they were still unarmed, but with the element of surprise they might stand a chance of putting Badger's crew down.
Just before they acted, however, the door in the center of the cargo bay's loading ramp opened with a clang. John limped into the hangar, leaning heavily on Cortana's steadying shoulder. "The deal is good," he barked as he passed Badger's crew, pausing only to glare down at the diminutive leader himself. "Now get off my ship." Then the doctor pulled him along into the infirmary, the doors closing behind them with a swish.
"So we're done here?" Kelly asked, still closing in on Badger.
"I'd say we are, my dear. Back to business as usual," he answered with his customary brazen confidence. By the time he turned his face to acknowledge Kelly, the woman was mere centimeters away from him. He craned his head back to look into her eyes, his cocky grin fading fast.
"Good," the woman said, glowering. "Then allow me to give you some, as you put it, friendly advice." She took one more step forward, glaring directly into Badger's eyes. "If you ever step foot on Serenity again, they'll never find your body. In fact, there won't be anything left to find."
She towered over him for close to a minute, silently glaring him down. Finally she asked, "Do we understand each other?"
All of his ego evaporated, Badger could do no more than meekly nod.
Kelly lifted one corner of her mouth in a snarl, then turned and stomped out of sight.
Badger found himself, for once, at a loss for words. He swallowed once, then twice, and licked lips that had suddenly become very dry. "You know," he finally mustered the clarity of mind to say, tossing a sideways glance to Fred, "I can't tell if I'm more intimidated or aroused."
The other former Spartan glared at him, his muscled arms crossed over his chest. He slowly reached down beneath his weight bench and retrieved a combat knife, holding it between himself and the diminutive middleman.
"Does this help you make up your mind?" Fred asked.
Badger gulped loudly and wet his lips once more, rapidly shifting his gaze from the gun to the hard eyes of its owner.
He at least had the decency to look bashful when he shrugged and replied, "Not really."
1152 Hours, January 12, 2543
Zik's Bar, Planet Santo
The bar owner Zik chittered nervously, her avian head popping back and forth as she avoided eye contact.
"I've already told you everything I know," she said, her voice tense. "They came in, had a few drinks, played a game of pool, and then started a fight. They skipped out and left the idiots they beat up to pay their tabs."
Her interrogator growled in frustration. "I understand that. What I want to know about is their companion. A female, who might not have looked as though she belonged here."
Zik's quilled brow furrowed. "Yeah, there was a female with them. She was the first to run out. Last I saw her she was headed for their ship."
'Vadamee sat up straighter in his seat. A ship? That could be the key to finally tracking down the fugitives. He leaned forward on the bar, bringing himself closer to Zik. "Tell me about this ship," he growled.
The Kig-Yar made a quiet chirping sound. "Well . . ." she said, drawing the word out as she slid a jar labeled "TIPS" in between herself and the Sangheili.
Thel glared at her, but slowly reached into a belt pouch and produced a small handful of credits, dropping them in the jar.
Zik clicked her beak twice excitedly. "An old ship," she said, "Firefly-class. They called it something strange – Peace? Tranquility?"
Thel held out a hand to forestall any further speculation on the barkeeper's part. There would be time to learn the ship's name later. For now, he had gained all useful information from the Kig-Yar before him.
Without another word 'Vadamee rose to his feet and left the bar, sure of his conclusion. When he returned to his Banshee outside, he toggled the radio within. "Alert the shipmaster," he ordered the radio operator that responded to his call, "we have a target."