Offensive Bias:I've got two chapters to get through, do you mind if I post later? xD

OF COURSE I MIND!!!

sike. yeah, man. that's totally cool. you get me response to your pm?

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New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Yeah, I replied! SWEAR TO ME!

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SPQR! An ambitious historical project, coming soon. Check the Library for early version test writes. Recommended for anyone with a love of history.

Chapter 9

 

 

"I’m positive it was him."

James Howell leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Underneath a furrowed brow, his eyes darted to Maya. "Look, we’re all a bit frazzled by the tempo shift of the past few days." He pivoted in his chair to face Caitrin. "Did you see his face?"

Caitrin shifted uneasily on her feet, exchanging a quick glance with Maya. Her roommate’s eyes longed for confirmation. Caitrin scratched the back of her neck. "I didn’t get a very good look from where I was, Sir." Maya let out the slightest sign, almost undetectable, and Caitrin closed her eyes. "But I do not doubt Maya’s claim."

Howell raised an eyebrow. "Even though being there, you can’t confirm it?"

The medium-sized anteroom reserved for the Head of Security was quiet for a few drawn-out seconds before Howell stood and walked over to a table covered with a variety of alcoholic drinks, ranging from simple ale to the really hard stuff. He grabbed a small glass and began examining his choices, reading the labels in an untrained manner. "So what would you suggest we do, Barros?"

Maya opened her hands. "We have to do something, Sir. Anything. Call off the meeting, schedule it for another time or place, it doesn’t matter. Yunker has something planned, and if we don’t find out what this is, a lot of innocent people could get hurt."

"Or the Ambassador could be in danger," Caitrin offered.

Howell finally came to a small flask and wafted a quick sniff. He shrugged and filled his glass an eighth full. He swirled the dark liquid around and raised his glass. "Those are valid points, but I’m afraid diplomatic immunity is an unsavory beast." He took a quick sip and coughed through the swallow. He clutched the edge of the table and set the glass down.

"Are you okay, Sir?" Caitrin asked, eyeing him carefully. Now that Caitrin thought about it, she had never seen this sort of body language from her commander. He was all fragile and disconnected.

He coughed several more times, cleared his throat, and straightened up. "I’m fine." Howell shook his head. "There’s little to do, anyway. The meeting is in the heart of the Palace, free from any prying eyes or even the Press. We’re going to need everyone we have available to safeguard our . . . assets." He took a smaller sip from his glass and only coughed once.

Maya snorted. "Isn’t it a little early to start drinking, Sir?"

Howell glanced at his wristwatch and shrugged. "Forty years is much too late, in my opinion." He scratched the red hair around his left ear and collapsed back in the chair he had previously vacated. He set his glass on the flattened right arm of the chair and leaned forward. "Look, I don’t trust Yunker or Thorin, but my job is to keep them from harm and keep my people safe." He sighed and lowered his head, revealing a bald spot that was usually hidden underneath his cap. "If either one of them is planning something felonious tomorrow, then we’ll just have to keep a close eye on them."

"What if that’s not enough?" Maya murmured.

He looked up with weariness in his eyes. "Then safeguard what you can."

Both women left their commanding officer to his further examinations of alcohol and managed to distract themselves with an early lunch. They wandered the halls of the Palace for a while till the warmth of the local, overhead star, Sigur, beckoned them outside. But their dark mood seemed to follow them, as gray clouds quickly formed to block the sunlight.

Caitrin sat on the steps of the Central Garden fountain and picked at some loose stone fragments in a crack. It was midday and most of the Guest Wing’s occupants were eating in the dining hall inside. Caitrin looked up from her fidgeting and noticed only a handful of people spread out on benches in the wide-open area. None seemed to be paying Caitrin or Maya any attention, allowing a certain level of privacy for the roommates. The overcast sky looked as if it would start raining any second, but Caitrin knew it would hold off for a few hours. After all, you could set your watch to the weather here.

Maya flicked another coin into the multi-tiered fountain and sighed. "I can’t stand it, Taryn."

Caitrin turned her torso around, eliciting a crack from a few lumbar. "The waiting or our predicament?"

"Yeah." Maya pocketed the remaining coins and lowered herself next to Caitrin. "We don’t know what Yunker is planning, but we know when."

"Well, let’s go through some options." Caitrin started ticking points off on her fingers. "Yunker was speaking with a member of the Loyalists."

Maya nodded. "That we are sure of."

"Second, Thorin’s relative most likely wants another shot at the Admin," she said. "And we know Thorin and Yunker have a knack for disruption."

"You’ve got that right," Maya muttered, then shook her head. "But Howell’s right; the meeting is taking place at a secure location, so what can the Loyalists actually do?"

Caitrin sighed. "I don’t know." She returned to the cracked surface of the steps, prodding another pebble loose. "The most they could do is what, protest?"

"I guess so, but it seems like there’s something big going to happen."

"Like a riot?"

Maya nodded. "That would sway in the Ambassador’s favor. Any sign of instability would benefit his arguments." She stood and started pacing back and forth on the lowest step. "Taryn, I just want to get this over with and go home."

"Well, either the political talks are successful or we convince Captain Abbott we need to leave."

"That will be nothing short of a miracle on both accounts."

Caitrin rolled the gray pebble in her hand. "But we still have our duties to the STSD, so aside from snooping around in our off-time, we have little to do."

Maya stopped her pacing and gave Caitrin a predatory smile. "What kind of snooping do you have in mind?"

She abruptly stood and walked down to stand with Maya, seeing if anyone was within earshot. She leaned in slightly, conspiratorially. "Maya, we are on thin ice as it is. We were lucky Howell didn’t reprimand us for venturing out into the city last night."

Maya pulled her head back, a frown forming on her face. "If it wasn’t for us, we wouldn’t even know Yunker’s plan."

"But that’s just it. We don’t know his plan."

"So we do nothing?"

"We—" Caitrin sighed and felt a knot beginning to form in her neck. Every point they brought up ended in the same circular pattern to a stalemate. "We just have to be ready for anything."

Maya hissed through her teeth. "Yeah, we’ll have to watch Yunker the entire time."

Caitrin nodded slowly. "We don’t have much of a choice."

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

The next day was a whirlwind of activity. Caitrin had woken up early to go running in the cool morning mist and returned to find Maya still asleep. They both got ready, donning on their uniforms, and regrouped with Howell and the other security officers in the Palace Dining Hall.

"We have reason to believe there might be some trouble that will stir up over this meeting," Howell informed. He had cleaned himself up well, looking every bit the poster image of a Skyline Transport Security Detail officer. "Being under the jurisdiction of Milanó, this will be a joint operation with the Andvarians. You have your assignments, so get to it."

The group began to dissolve, and some officers mumbled to each other about his duties or lack there of. Caitrin closed the distance to Howell, who was talking with a Palace Security officer in low tones. He glanced up and nodded to her. "Sir, is there a reason the meeting has been switched to the Central Garden?"

The Andvarian’s chin came up and answered for Howell. "It was deemed prudent by the People’s Representatives to show the world that Administrator Mahlon welcomes alternative views." He gave a tight-lipped smile. "The journalists are also allowed to be present."

Caitrin’s mouth hung open. "And they didn’t think of the security risks involved?"

Howell quickly stepped between them and grabbed Caitrin’s elbow. "The Ambassador has agreed to these terms, Officer Collin. I suggest you keep your comments to yourself." His brow furrowed and he gave the most abbreviated shake of his head, telling Caitrin to drop the issue.

Howell may not like the situation any more than I may, but he has to follow orders. She sighed. Yes, Sir." Caitrin saluted and turned on her left heel to head out of the dining hall. She caught Maya leaning against the stone wall of the main corridor with her arms folded across her chest. Caitrin raised her hands and shook her head.

Maya frowned. "Howell didn’t tell you why the meeting location was changed?"

"That Andvarian said the Senate declared the meeting ‘open to scrutiny’, in a way." She took a spot next to Maya along the wall. "Howell did say Thorin is going along with it."

Maya’s expression deepened. "What’s your assignment? Cause mine is monitoring the journalists after Palace Security is done screening them. I’ll stay close enough to monitor the Ambassador."

Caitrin shrugged. "Actually, I’m kind of surprised. I’ll be shadowing Yunker."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She looked over Caitrin’s shoulder then leaned in to whisper. "You make sure he doesn’t try anything funny."

She gave a week smile. "I’ll do my best."

"Good." Maya squeezed Caitrin’s right arm. "You be careful."

"You too." Caitrin paused for a moment, sensing Maya was holding something back, but her roommate merely nodded once and moved past her. As Caitrin watched Maya leave, she frowned. Is she hiding something from me? She felt someone’s eyes on her and she quickly spun around. Standing in the doorway of the dining hall, Caitrin caught Kinnison in a half-turn. Fed up with the apprehension she held towards the ex-marine, she marched up to him.

He was a quick study. He stiffened and got the first word in. "Officer Collin, how are you?"

Caitrin pointed a finger at him, but kept her voice quiet. "Don’t be coy with me, Kinnison. I saw you staring at us."

He nodded and kept his features totally passive. "I heard you two were the ones to tip off Howell of impending trouble at the meeting."

She narrowed her eyes. "How did you hear about that?"

He shrugged mechanically. "People talk; I tend to keep my ears open." He held up a hand to forestall a comment from Caitrin. "Look, I, for one, believe you. I don’t like what Yunker pulled back on Emissary anymore than you. He’s got enough suspiciousness about him that the orbital platforms could pick him up on radar."

"Yeah," Caitrin said. "I’ll be his personal shield today."

He raised his eyebrows a centimeter, if that. "That’s fitting." Kinnison sighed. "I’ve been assigned to reinforce the Palace barrier at the main entrance. Should be loads of fun."

"I’d keep my eye on any Loyalists in the crowd."

"Thanks." He clicked his heels and left.

She watched him leave, noting his precision-like amble contrasting with her feeling of anxiety. Caitrin shivered at the weariness that washed over her. Just make it through today, then you can start worrying about something else. She snorted at her own thoughts. There’s always something to worry about.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Neil Yunker looked unequivocally calm as Caitrin escorted him from his private chambers that was placed next to Thorin’s. Their footsteps echoed off the tiled floor as they walked alone without exchanging a single word. The silence didn't last long. Slowly, the thrum of the gathered media crowd rose to replace the thumping of boots as they neared the garden.

Yunker looked over to Caitrin and smiled. "Showtime." He picked up his pace and raised his hands in greeting the media frenzy. He stopped a meter short of the roped off area the Press was situated behind. A knot of camera operators and finely-groom anchors wielding recording comms and security badges turned their attention to the Ambassador’s aide. Yunker lowered his hands and pointed to one female journalist. "Yes, you."

"Does the Colonial Administration Authority have any chance of reaching a compromise with Administrator Mahlon?" the blond woman asked.

Caitrin panned the crowd, searching for anything out of the ordinary. She frowned when nothing stood out. Being a Military Police Officer most of her adult life had taught her a few things about crowd control, but with the heightened awareness needed to spot a suspicious Loyalist, she found the quick scan unfruitful.

"Ambassador Thorin is aware of the strength Andvarians have, and he admires it. The CAA is looking forward to working with the Sigur System once again." He bowed his head and started walking towards the assembled desks and podium. He waved away more questions from the journalist and started conversing with some lavishly dress local official.

Probably a Mayor or something. Caitrin remained at Yunker’s side, eyeing him and those he greeted with a cautious gaze. Whatever Yunker had planned she still had to keep him from harm. As much as I’d rather seem him tossed down a drainage ditch, I don’t want him dead.

"Neil Yunker, aide to Ambassador Herod Thorin," Yunker said, shaking the hand of the politician.

The older man, whose sunken features reminded Caitrin of a cadaver, smiled. "Delighted. I am Governor Randolph Alizie of the State of Jannis." He motioned with his free hand to encompass the crowd. "Quite the reverse of the meeting that was planned, wouldn’t you say?"

Yunker patted his left hand over their embraced right hands. "I assure you, it is for the best. Transparency in any government is welcomed by the people, is it not?"

Alizie’s eyes brightened, and Caitrin could finally see some life flood into the Governor’s face. "Oh yes, of course. Pleasure to meet you."

"And you."

Caitrin followed Yunker around as he dispensed with his pleasantries for another 15 minutes. She did get sight of Maya, but her roommate was too busy with crowd control to acknowledge Caitrin’s presence. If anything, Maya looked flustered beyond her normal range.

Once finding his seat, Caitrin stood behind Yunker who was placed at the end of the small CAA table. He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher and took a long drink. The day’s weather was turning out to be pleasant, but anyone swathed in the layers of ceremonial garb that Yunker and the other politicians wore would have been a little cooked, for certain.

The Ambassador’s arrival into the garden was nothing short of the pomp and circumstance Caitrin had expected. An announcement was made and people began to clap even before he was visible. As Thorin walked in waving and smiling, the multiple flashpanels briefly illuminated his face in a white light, making him look like a ghost during the strobe effect. He graciously, if not artificially, took his seat at the head of the table, and the two STSD security guards that flanked him during his entrance took a similar parade-rest stance to Caitrin’s left. Thorn and Yunker exchanged words briefly then stood up when a fanfare blared over the sound system.

The large double doors of the main portico parted and Naomi Mahlon exited in the most extravagant of entrances yet. She wore a deep red gown, almost crimson, complete with a head covering that reminded Caitrin of the type true nobility would wear. Her smile, while not showing any teeth, brought a cheer from the two large tables designated for the Regional Governors and the People’s Representatives. A half dozen individuals escorted her, ranging from security to aides and ensigns.

Caitrin tore her eyes away from the Administrator to focus on the Andvarian politicians. Almost all wore a grin that stretch from ear to ear, a certain pride brimming over to match their ovation. But a handful of Representatives were standing with their arms folded in mute protest. She cataloged that fact away for further use when she would need it.

Mahlon slowly made her way to the large, wooden podium, and offered handshakes and bows to all in her route. Caitrin had to take several steps back when the Administrator walked past, greeting Thorin like they had never met before. More cameras flashed and the applause subsided with the lowering of Mahlon’s hands. On both sides of the dais, the government members took their seats.

"Citizens of Andvari, I offer you a chance to see the transparency you and your families have longed for. We are . . . "

Caitrin immediately began to tune her out as she again searched the faces of those gathered for any signs of overt discontent. Those same Representatives who didn’t clap for Mahlon sat with their cheerless expressions, but they didn’t seem fuming. I wonder if their constituents feel the same way. A click over the comm brought her hand up to adjust the volume of her earpiece. She bent her head down slightly at an angle. "Collin, here."

"Taryn? It’s me, Maya. See anything yet?"

She frowned and looked over Yunker’s head to spot Maya at the corner of the roped off Press area. Maya was doing her best to be discreet, but with the crowd hanging on every word the Administrator spoke, it didn’t look good for the security team to be chatting away. "No," she whispered. "Maya we can’t talk now." The STSD guard beside her cleared his throat in disgust. Caitrin sighed. "We’ll talk later." She clicked off her comm and straightened back up.

Across the way, Maya’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She nodded slowly, a sign of accommodation.

Caitrin wanted to apologize, but she was no doubt in some camera’s frame. The last thing she needed was to be reprimanded for talking openly while the politicians had the floor. Lost in her thoughts once again, she started to hear a distant roar. Puzzled, she strained her ears. It sounded like muffled static or a distorted recording of water rushing over a brook. It became so loud Mahlon halted her speech and looked up as if expecting the answer to her unspoken question to fall from the sky.

The comm clicked. "This is Kinnison. We have a situation here."

Howell's voice came back, sounding tiny but clear in Caitrin’s ear. "Report."

Kinnison's reply was lost in a wash of static.

Yunker rose from his chair and placed a hand on Thorin's shoulder. "I'll go speak with the crowd to calm them down." The Ambassador frowned for a moment then nodded. Yunker turned to Caitrin and motioned for her to lead the way. "Shall we?" he asked with suspicious calm.

Caitrin shook her head adamantly, but the cold stare Yunker gave her told her this was not a request. She worked her jaw for a few seconds. "Yes, Mr. Yunker."

As they marched out towards the Palace's main entrance, Howell continued to try and reach Kinnison on the comm. "Kinnison, please respond."

She picked up her pace and was pleased to see Yunker stayed with her. A few extra guards from the STSD and Palace Security ran past with concerned looks on their faces. She exited the main corridor and stepped into the large foyer that connected half a dozen hallways and rooms, along with the main entrance. The huge front doors were open to reveal the source of the noise.

Several hundred, if not a thousand, Andvarians crowded the Palace driveway with even more spilling out into the front lawn. Most were shouting "Loyalist" and holding signs that were pro-UNSC, but there was also a faction protesting the protesters. Those individuals looked much the same, but held their attention on the anti-Andvari government protesters. None were wearing the white robes she was expecting. Caitrin caught Kinnison shoving back some eager middle-age woman with his shockstick not powered. The guard with the UNSC tattoos on his neck appeared calm, despite holding the crowd at bay, but Caitrin saw worry in his eyes when Kinnison looked back to the relief he so desperately needed.

He motioned with his head for her to look up, and Caitrin did. Someone, most likely an independent broadcast company, had chosen to erect a giant two-dimensional screen right on the western lawn, projecting the meeting in real-time. At the moment, the only thing on the screen was the Andvari government crest: A three-headed avian with two pairs of wings and four legs, each leg grasping a different object, surrounded by a circle of stars. "Something must be jamming us," he told Caitrin.

Behind her, Caitrin felt Yunker step up and rest a hand on her shoulder. He moved to stand beside her in the doorway and raised his hands. She swore under her breath and tried to press him back, but he held his ground. "People of Andvari," he bellowed, "I ask for calm."

Remarkably, the crowd, at least those siding with the Loyalist, began to cheer for Yunker. A new chant began resounding through the chaos. "Thorin! Thorin!" they yelled in one accord.

Caitrin turned around to speak loudly into Yunker’s left ear. "This is not a good idea. We need to get you back inside to someplace safe."

Yunker’s face soured, and anger seeped into his words. "You don’t understand these people." He raised his head, a smile returning to his face. "I do," he said to Caitrin out of the side of his grin.

More Palace security guards streamed out from the foyer to reinforce the human barrier, finally freeing Kinnison from fending for ground. He walked backwards towards Caitrin, all the while keeping his eye on the mob. "Something’s wrong here," he commented to her. "Very wrong."

The scene in the alleyway flashed before Caitrin’s eyes. ‘Rest assured we will be prepared to act when you give the signal.’ Caitrin tensed and grabbed Kinnison’s arm. "We need to get him out of here, now."

Kinnison nodded and both of them turned around to escort Yunker back inside.

However when the Ambassador’s aide lowered his hands, the crowd noise diminished to a low hum. "Rest assured, Ambassador Thorin will see this through to the end." He slowly nodded twice.

A lone voice shouted from the crowd, "Freedom for Andvari! Freedom from oppression!"

Spinning her head around, Caitrin saw the young, rebellious-looking youth *** back his arm with an unknown object in his hand. "Look out!" Caitrin shouted.

But it was too late. The stone crossed the distance to the back of Kinnison’s head in half a second, striking him just behind the right ear. The stone smashed his comm unit and the ex-marine fell to the ground. He staggered to support his weight, clutching his bleeding skull.

"No! You must not do this!" Yunker cried.

From elsewhere in the mass of people, another rock took flight, this time coming straight for Caitrin. She ducked just in time to avoid being hit, and grabbed a handful of Yunker’s tunic. "Go, go!" she ordered over the swelling roar of the crowd.

Without question, Yunker dove through the row of Palace security that lined the doorway, soiling his pristine robes on the entryway mats. Shielding her head with her hands, Caitrin followed, landing beside him on the floor. She pushed him aside, and he backpedaled into the safety of the stone walls. "Stay there!" she told him.

Caitrin hunched over and went back outside to find Kinnison. He was crawling on the ground, weaving a path to her between the baton-waving guards’ legs. His eyes were defocused and blood dripped from his chin. She took his hand. "C’mon!"

He nodded absently, and held on through the maze. He groped for balance, but found nothing to help support his weight. Caitrin reached around his shoulder and hauled him to his feet, smearing blood on her uniform. She somehow managed to get to the doorway and lower him to the ground beside Yunker without further incident.

She risked a quick look back outside and was taken aback at what she saw. The crowd was no longer shouting towards the Palace, but at each other. Fist flew and punches landed. Still more stones flew through the air to strike at the security team, but the darkly uniformed Palace guards activated a type of riot shield Caitrin had never seen before. A soft pink glow flashed to life in an oval shape that covered them from head to toe. They fanned out with shocksticks humming, ready to quell those unlucky enough to get in the way. Those protesters closest to the main entrance collapsed in a heap when the voltage from the shocksticks hit them. The rest of the crowd got the message and began dispersing, stumbling over one another. No longer where the two groups fighting each other, but both were looking to avoid a beating or a painful stun.

A sound like ice falling off branches surpassed the roar of the mob, and Caitrin ducked back inside to see a window high up in the foyer shatter from a barrage of stones. The glass rained down off to her right, a good dozen meters from where Kinnison and Yunker lay, but larger pieces struck the ground and ricocheted up at odd angles. Caitrin spun around to avoid the shards but felt the sharp stings on her legs and back. Fortunately for Kinnison and Yunker, her body shielded both men that were sprawled out on the foyer floor.

She cringed and cursed through the pain. Her legs gave out and she fell onto the floor mat before a dazed Kinnison. She closed her eyes and yelled.

"Hold on, Collin!"

Caitrin blinked back newly formed tears and looked up to see James Howell’s face. More windows shattered as he pulled both Caitrin and Kinnison up to a hobbling march to safety. Caitrin felt the pain pulsing from her legs and lower back, but she was able to grit her teeth through the half-walk.

Howell finally lower her to the ground inside the main corridor where trauma teams ran to examine the injured. They took Caitrin by the arms, carefully supporting her weight, and rested her on a gurney.

Lying on her side with her eyes closed, an old adage Morcant use to say came to Caitrin’s mind: "War is long moments of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror." She internally snorted. If that isn’t the story of the past weeks, I don’t know what is.

As if confirming her thoughts, the sound and vibrations of a distant explosion reached her and rattled Caitrin to the core. I doubt there will be "long moments of boredom" anymore.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

despite the lack of feedback, i'll still be posting new chapters!
that's not bitterness-- i've surprisingly got a few readers of at FF.net-- that's just the truth.

stick around for a new chapter coming shortly!

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

I was looking through FF.Net a couple of weeks ago, and I found your story in the Halo section :P It was cool how many readers you had there.

---

SPQR! An ambitious historical project, coming soon. Check the Library for early version test writes. Recommended for anyone with a love of history.

Chapter 10

 

"I can do it, daddy."

"Let’s do it together, sweetheart."

Those words echoed in her mind, but Caitrin couldn’t quite place them.

"I can reach the pedals, just give me a push."

"Okay, Cait, just keep it steady. One, two, three!"

Recognition clicked and Caitrin felt a wave of thick emotion wash over her as she could picture the scene in her mind’s eye. It was of when she was a little girl, eight years old, and her dad was teaching her how to ride a bicycle. The memory was so vivid she could almost taste it. The light breeze blowing across the recently plowed fields smelled of fresh earth that mixed with the scent of flowers lining the front of their two-story farmhouse. Her yellow dress covered in splotches of dirt from playing in the backyard. The gravely driveway felt shaky underneath worn tires, but her father’s tight grip on the rear of the seat kept her steady. Her tangled mess of red hair temporarily blocked her view, and she shook her head to rid herself of the distraction.

"Let go, daddy! I can do it."

The rich, warm chuckle poured like honey into Caitrin’s ears, and her heart began to ache, knowing that her father’s laughter was one of the things she missed most about him.

"Okay, hold on tight!"

She held on tightly, but the vibrations from the loose stone caused her to shake in her seat. Without the firm hand of her father, the bike convulsed as it picked up speed. She stopped pedaling and stuck her feet out to the sides, but the distance to the ground was too great.

"Daddy!"

The curve in the driveway was coming up fast, and with it, the thorn bushes that outlined their property. Fear etched its way into the memory and Caitrin knew what would happen next. Gritting her teeth, she pulled with her left hand and pushed with her right to bring the handlebars away from the inevitable sting. The front tire veered away and buckled as tiny rocks kicked up and struck her bare shins. Off balance, she feel forward, barely getting her right palm out to cushion the impact. Pain lanced up her side as she hit the ground, the bike tumbling over her, pinning her body in place.

"Cait!"

Appearing from the rising dust cloud, her father was at her side in an instant, carefully removing the bent and crooked frame of the bicycle off her trembling legs. He tossed the wreckage away as if it were a lethal viper. Gently, he bent down and picked her up off the ground, shushing her cries of agony. He took her bleeding hand in his and kissed it, his whiskers tickling her pale skin. She managed a short laugh and he held her tight.

She looked up into his weary brown eyes. "Daddy, I thought I could do it," she said through a few sniffles.

He knelt down to rest her on his knee. "You were doing it, Cait." Her father tucked some loose red locks behind her right ear and kissed her forehead. "But do you remember what I told you?"

She frowned. "No, daddy."

The memory paused. Slightly disturbed, Caitrin couldn’t recall what her father had said to her that day. Then it clicked together, like two interlocking puzzle pieces.

"You became afraid." He set her down and brushed the dust off of her dress. "There’s going to be times in your life when you think you can do something that you’re probably not ready for. The world might cave in and all hope might seem lost, but focus and let the good Lord be your guide, Cait." He gave her a smile. "You remember that verse?"

She nodded and wiped away a tear. "When I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."

His expression widened and he rested both hands on her shoulders. "That’s right, sweetheart. But that’s not all of it. You were meant for amazing things, Cait. Your mom and I know that. We’ll be here for you, just . . ."

His voice reverberated as if were trapped in a feedback loop, and static rose in its place. The memory defocused and shifted violently from side to side, making Caitrin feel nauseous. Wait! Daddy, wait!

A new image swam into view: two closed caskets sat in the front of a cold, dark church. Caitrin shuddered at the sight. Pictures of her parents sat on easels, as a preacher read the 21^st Psalm. On the easel to her right, Caitrin’s mother was captured laughing at a joke her father had told. Her green eyes half squinted, her long auburn hair tied in a loose braid, and her smile was so soft, it was no wonder she had won her husband’s affection. Caitrin realized she could have been looking into a mirror, seeing so much of herself in her mother.

Sorrow was finding a place somewhere between her throat and heart, but again, the image shifted. When her vision finally cleared, the scene of her wedding day blossomed in all the wonderful splendor Caitrin remembered. The cloudy day that promised rain, but never followed through. The old rickety gazebo just big enough for the pastor, bride, and groom. Morcant was saying his improvised vows as they held each other’s hands.

"Caitrin, I’ll always be there for you. In sickness and in health."

She mentally mouthed the words, "till death we do part . . . "

Caitrin eyes shot open and she abruptly sat up in bed. Her breathing was labored and she blinked back the tears, cascading them down already moistened cheeks. She cleared her eyes with thumb and forefinger and got her breathing under control. She looked up and panned her shadowy surroundings to find them unfamiliar. She frowned, not knowing how she had gotten to the room. She felt the soft sheets and couldn’t recognize the fabric. The bed felt too hard for her comfort. She looked down at her attire to find a yellow nightgown she didn’t recall owning. What’s going on?

When she finally caught a glimpse of something familiar it was the jacket to a uniform draped over the foot of her bed. She reached down and picked it up, feeling the rough material in between her fingers. Caitrin read the letters "STSD" that were emblazoned on the upper left chest pocket. Skyline Transport Security Detail. The title bounced around in her brain till a few synapses connected and made sense of it all. I’m undercover as a STSD guard. She frowned. I should know that without thinking, so why am I so disoriented?

"You probably ate too much of that soup."

Her husband’s voice shined like a light in her darkened mind. The memory of her groaning in the passenger seat on the ride home from an Asian restaurant bloomed before her mind’s eye. Morcant patted her knee playfully. "You knew it was too spicy." She turned her head to see his reassuring smile.

Arbitrary thoughts of Morcant began to cycle through her head. The way her head fit just under his chin when locked in an embrace. His playful humor matching her our wit. The long Saturday mornings spent sleeping in. His kindness . . .

Without warning Caitrin began to feel pieces of her life drift away, and she mentally tried to grab on to them. She felt random memories begin to fade into a sea of emotional distress. No! "No!" She covered her mouth when her scratchy voice boomed into the silence of her room. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, and shook her head. Lord, give me strength.

Still holding the jacket, she mentally ticked off points as her memory reconnected in an abnormal, backward fashion. There was a meeting in the Palace and a riot broke out. I got here, Andvari, by disguising myself as part of the security detail for the political delegation aboard Emissary. Commander Powelson pointed me in the direction to the Sigur System. Morcant left me a message. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Till death we do part . . ."

She hastily started to recall her dream sequence.

Like a distant shout from a shipwrecked sailor, her father’s words resounded in her ears again and she sighed. The fog slowly began to dissolve in her mind. Maybe you’re right, dad. Maybe in coming here I did bite off more than I can chew. She frowned. Reflecting back on her emotional state, she had jumped blindfolded and unstably into her husband’s footsteps. Determination and the will to know the truth had been her prime motivators, but the depth of the entire situation was threatening to pull her back under the muck and mire.

Caitrin noted her failure to control Yunker’s actions at the meeting. I never should have let him get outside. The most experience she ever had with crowd control had been with a few drunken and disorderly marines returning to base. She sighed again. Four years in the service and nothing to show for it. Once Morcant took the ONI position, she had opted out for signing on for another short-term commitment to the UNSC. Caitrin and Morcant had wanted to start a family, and he had promised when he got back from his latest assignment they would.

But those plans are now gone. She looked down at her closed hands and forced them open. Focus, Cait. You need to focus. She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nostrils. I don't need to make plans, I need to act.

A knock on the door sounded ten times louder to Caitrin than it should have, and a sliver of soft golden light entered the room. "Taryn?"

"Yeah?" she croaked.

The door opened all the way to permit Maya Barros into the room. "Are you okay? I thought I heard you scream." She quietly shut the door.

"I'm . . . doing okay," Caitrin answered.

Maya leaned against the closed door, a look of concern on her face. "Your legs okay? I was surprised how fast you were released from Medical. There must have been a dozen fragments of glass in you."

"What?" Caitrin pulled the sheets off fully and found her legs wrapped in gauss. Being consumed with the emotional battle, she had barely assessed her physical situation. She wiggled her toes for good measure and found no pain in doing the simple test. She pressed a hand on the right side of her thigh and applied a small amount of pressure. She felt no pain, so she lifted up the corner of the wrappings to get a peak at her skin. While red from obvious treatment, her thigh seemed to be fully healed. She examined her other leg and found similar results. She shrugged. "I guess I’m healing up pretty nicely."

Maya remained standing but moved to the side of Caitrin’s bed. "That’s good to hear. Their Chief Medical Officer said you’ll be fine and should be able to remove your bandages tomorrow."

"I don’t get it. I must have been unconscious for how long, a week, two weeks?"

"Nope, just a few days." Maya smiled. "Andvari has a native plant that is used to speed up trauma for all sorts of ailments. You and Kinnison should be fit for duty right around the same time."

Kinnison. Caitrin flashed back to the scene at the Palace’s main entrance. He took a bad blow to the head. "How is he?"

"He’ll be okay, though he is having some side-effects from the concussion. Medical wants to keep him for observation."

Caitrin tried to bend her knees but found the wrappings kept her from doing so. She pushed herself back against the headboard and patted the open spot to her right. Obligingly, Maya sat down stiffly. Caitrin could read something uneasy behind her roommate’s eyes. "Maya, what’s going on?"

She gave a lopsided grin. "The Administrator has closed all traffic to and from the Palace in order to lockdown the area." Maya sighed. "Apparently, one of Mahlon’s supporters chucked a rock at you guys, and then all hell broke loose."

Caitrin nodded. That’s right. I got Yunker inside and went back out to get Kinnison. When we were both inside, a window was shattered and that’s when I got injured. "I remember. It was a close call."

Maya’s expression turned glum. "Yeah, well they missed their target: Yunker. Thorin is fuming over this, saying this is proof that the radicals will stop at nothing to have their freedom."

"Sounds like the kind of backdoor politics back home." Caitrin shook her head. "What do the people say?"

Cracking her knuckles, Maya shrugged. "This is just one incident, but according to the local news broadcasts, there’s been a shift in favor of the Loyalist Party in the most recent polls."

"But we know the truth behind it all," she said, as another puzzle piece fit into place.

"Huh?"

Caitrin leaned forward, feeling the stretch in her hamstrings. "Right when Yunker nodded two times, the protester that threw the first stone shouted something pro-Andvari. That must have been the signal. Yunker knew all along that staging the riot to look like it was started by the Patriot Party would boost the Loyalists standings."

Maya swore under her breath. "You’re right, Taryn."

Caitrin could read even more trouble in her roommate’s deep brown eyes. "And?"

"Since the riot, everyone has lost faith in the STSD’s ability to protect, let alone listen to our ideas." She sighed. "Later that day, Thorin had an audience with Mahlon and announced that the blame should fall on Howell and us guards. We might be grasping at straws to think anyone will listen to us now. Our credibility is shot."

Caitrin leaned back slowly. So that was it. Thorin had pushed us aside in one swift move.

"I tried, I really did, to speak with Mahlon or anyone else who would listen, but the dirt-side STSD are now confined to their quarters until Captain Abbott and the crew return with a repaired Emissary." She paused, looking down at the floor. "Then we are to leave and head back to UNSC-controlled space."

"What?! After all we’ve done, Thorin and Yunker are just tossing us to the curb like some useless piece of scrap metal?"

"It seems so. Palace security has taken over our duties."

Caitrin sat still, remaining silent for a while longer. "Do you think Thorin has some people in Palace security that are Loyalist?" she asked, as a patch of ice began to form in her stomach.

Slowly, Maya nodded. "Could have."

"And we are the only ones that can connect Yunker to instigating the riot, right?"

Maya’s eyes grew wide. "You think we might be on a hit list?"

Caitrin shivered. "I think it’s a very likely possibility."

 

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

The next morning, Caitrin began removing her bandages, but the stiffness in her legs remained even after she careful bent her knees. She turned her body so her legs would dangle off the end of the bed and found the needle-*** pain of sleeping muscles refusing to fully awake. Despite the tingle, she lowered herself to the ground. The tingles in her feet magnified tenfold, but she gritted through the odd sensation.

"Caitrin, you’re up." Maya stood in the doorway, wiping her wet hands dry with a cloth. Her gaze shifted to Caitrin’s lower half. "And . . . you’re up, I see."

"Yep," she said through clenched teeth. "Good as new." Caitrin crinkled her toes several times to help alleviate the pain. She risked a step, but found steadier footing this time. Though the muscles in her legs shook, the pain began to evaporate. She turned to the side and cracked her right knee. "That feels better."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "You need any help?"

"No, I actually think I’ll be fine." Caitrin sniffed the sweet scent in the air. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast." She waved her through the doorway. "C’mon, you could use some real food."

They sat silently at the small table in their quarters’ kitchen area. Maya barely touched her food, but Caitrin ate with a ravenous appetite.

Maya leaned back in her chair and took a sip from her steaming mug of coffee. "So what do we do now?"

Caitrin washed down the last forkful of starch with a swig from her cup of juice. "What do you mean? We’re locked down, remember?"

Shrugging, Maya took another quick sip. "Since when did that stop us?"

Taking a similar pose in her own chair, Caitrin sighed. "If we’re being singled out, and I can guarantee you we are, the second we step outside that door is when we’ll be swarmed with Palace Security." She raised her glass and looked over the brim to meet Maya’s eyes. "We’ve seen their handiwork."

Maya snorted. "Yeah."

The news broadcast had reported two people dead and over three hundred injured from the riot a few days earlier. Most complained of burns and bruises from shocksticks, while others were trampled upon.

Caitrin frowned. "I thought you just wanted to go home, anyway."

"Yeah," Maya said distractedly. "We probably should just sit tight and wait for Abbott to arrive. Then we can put all of this behind us."

"Right." Caitrin looked down into her cup, the red liquid swirling from her last sip. She could almost picture herself in the midst of such a vortex of chaos, riding the currents till the unavoidable end. She knew her life would soon be thrown back through the gauntlet, but the uneasiness that had plagued her before didn’t take root. For once, in a very long time, Caitrin had her confidence back.

If Abbott and the crew return to get us out of here, I have to disappear before or during the transit to Emissary. Caitrin looked up at Maya who was picking at her fingernails. Caitrin felt an invisible hand reach inward and tug on her heart, as she pondered never seeing Maya again. Their camaraderie had blossomed into friendship, and Caitrin had found a comfort that eased the emotional back hole Morcant’s death had left. She would once again leave familiarity to venture into the unknown.

"Oh, I forgot." Maya stood up and retrieved a pill container from an upper cabinet above the sink. She tossed Caitrin the bottle. "Here. These should help get you back to normal. Doctor’s orders."

Smiling, she read the label and popped two blue pills in her mouth, washing them down with more juice. "Thanks."

Maya remained standing and leaned back against the counter. "Uh-oh. You’ve got that sentimental look in your eyes."

Caitrin shrugged. "I’m just really glad I got to know you, Maya."

"No problem," she replied. A smile, along with a sense of vulnerability, crept onto Maya’s face. "You’re a sharp gal, Taryn. I hope we get more assignments together in the future."

A knock on the door caused both women to stiffen. Caitrin exchanged a worried glance with Maya. "Who could that be?" she whispered.

Maya shrugged. "Who is it?" she yelled.

A muffled voice from the other side of the door answered, "Palace Security. We have James Howell with us."

"Just a sec." Maya looked her roommate up and down. "Go throw some clothes on."

Slightly embarrassed to still be in her pajamas and robe in the late morning hours, Caitrin hurried off to her room and found her legs not giving her a problem any longer. Thank God for that. She quickly threw on something decent and returned to the kitchen area where Howell and Maya sat conversing over coffee. The table had been cleared off, and plates were replaced with a com-tablet and Howell’s restless fingers silently thumping the wooden surface. "Sir," she acknowledged.

Howell nodded and shook her hand. "Officer Collin, good to see you functional." He waved to the vacant seat, then to Maya. "I’m sure Barros here has caught you up on the latest drama?"

Caitrin sat and sighed. "Yes, Sir. I’m sorry things happened the way they did."

Her commanding officer shook his head slowly. "No, I’m partly to blame on this one. I should have listened to both of you earlier, otherwise we could have prevented this pandemonium." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Look, this situation is completely out of hand. Thorin told me earlier today that he transmitted a requested to the Colonial Administration Authority to send another delegation to help deal with the second round of talks."

"Quite ambitious of him," Maya muttered with arms folded across her chest.

He nodded. "Part of me thinks we need to warn the CAA about his actions here."

"Would they really take your word over his, Sir?" Caitrin asked. "I imagine he has them wrapped around his finger."

"The middle one, at that," Maya added.

A beep from the tablet rang out into the silence. Howell sighed. "I don’t know, but all this talk might be for nothing." He reached out and touched the surface of the tablet and it emitted a soft click.

There was a sound of static, then a small, blurry image rose from the tablet’s projector. A miniature Captain Abbott stood at attention. "Howell, this Abbott. The repairs to Emissary are finalized, and we should make planet fall by this evening."

Howell perked up. "That’s the first good news I’ve heard all day," he half chuckled.

Abbott’s imaged wavered as he shifted his posture to a parade-rest. "What’s the situation down there?"

"Tense, as always." The grim-faced man leaned back in his chair. "Since Thorin dismissed us, we’re all confined to our quarters until you get here."

Abbott shook his head in disgust. "I hate that guy."

Caitrin almost snickered at the banter between the two seasoned officers. While they both knew their place in the operation, they both held the same level of contempt for corruptible politicians.

"Yeah," Howell continued, "and he’s not slowing down. More CAA officials are being sent in."

"Great," he murmured sarcastically. The Captain ran a hand over his face. "Well, no sense in waiting; let’s make the flight home as soon as we can."

"Agreed." James Howell rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ll have my people organized so as soon as you touch down, we should be ready to head out within an hour."

Abbott nodded. "Sounds good."

Howell looked at both women seated at the table. "Do you two have any objections?"

Caitrin froze. Of course I do, but I can’t let you know that.

Maya placed her elbows on the table and cradled her mug. "While I know it’s not the STSD’s job to police the actions of some crazy politician, I understand we have little choice but to leave." She gave Caitrin a weak smile.

"I feel the same, Sir," Caitrin conceded.

"Thank you. And thank you, Captain. We’ll be seeing you later tonight." Keying off the transmission, Howell quickly stood and tucked the com-tablet underneath his arm. "There you have it. Have your belongings packed and ready for an evening departure." He started to walk to the door, but he paused and half-turned around. "And do try to remain out of trouble." The door slid open before he was a few paces away to reveal the two armed guards that had escorted him.

When the door closed, Caitrin couldn’t help but feel her commanding officer’s last statement was an omen.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Caitrin Lann sealed her bag and hefted it to the entryway, only feeling the slightest dizziness accompanied with her medication. She dropped her larger bag beside Maya’s belongings and laughed when she saw the ridiculous duster and oversized hat Maya had refused to depart without. Caitrin gave a wry smile when she contrasted the contents of their bags. Caitrin needed to be prepared to get away without much notice, so she wore her STSD uniform and inside her smaller, personal satchel were food rations, her M6B with three loaded magazines, a change of clothes, several glowrods, and a compad loaded with the file Powelson had given her. She still wasn’t sure when she could sneak away, but she figured it would happen when they grouped together at the landing zone.

She walked back into her room, gave it one last inspection, and shut the door. She glanced over to her roommate’s door, but didn’t bother checking in. Maya had decided to catch a late nap and had suggested to Caitrin that she do the same. "No doubt we’ll be first on duty." Maya had said. "You know how Howell treats those that take the initiative: he gives them more so-called ‘opportunity.’"

She returned to the kitchenette and poured herself a glass a water. She had avoided the stuff —being from a local source, it undoubtedly had bacteria that her immune system wasn’t familiar with— but was too thirsty to care. She took a drink and found the taste a little too salty for her liking. Eh, I’ve had worse.

Before she could take another drink, there was a knock on the door. Twice in one day? That must be Howell. But when she opened the door, a stone-faced Palace Security guard stood with an assault rifle in hand. He turned 90 degrees to allow the sole individual behind him to enter. The person wore a dark cloak that completely covered any recognizable features. Caitrin fumbled for words, not sure what to say, but the guard merely closed the door and the faint sound of an external lock clicked.

"Who are you?" Caitrin asked, stepping backwards.

When the stranger responded, Caitrin was surprised and yet somehow expected the visitor. "You know who I am," Neil Yunker rumbled. He slowly pulled back the hood of his cloak, anger brewing behind bloodshot eyes. "And I know who you are." He took another step forward. "I was a little shocked that ONI sent such a green operative to handle such a delicate role."

"What?" Caitrin gasped. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t play games with me, Miss Collin. You’ve been tailing me ever since I left New York."

"What? No, you’ve got mistaken for someone—"

His right hook was fast, connecting with her jaw before she even saw it coming. The blow knocked her back and she tripped over both piles of bags. Caitrin’s head hit the floor and stars exploded before her eyes. Pain lanced around her head to meet her already sore mandible. But Yunker stayed with her through the fall, and his hands quickly wrapped around her neck. Lying on the ground and dazed, she could barely focus on resisting his firm grip. He flared his elbows out to block her weakened blows raining down on his arms.

Through her gasps for breath, she looked into Yunker’s eyes and saw complete insanity. He clenched his teeth and hissed his words. "This is the last time one of you will get in my way!"

Caitrin winced at the burning in her lungs and mouthed, "please . . . stop!"

But whatever Yunker had as a conscience was somewhere far away. With one hand firmly place around her neck, he took his other hand and grabbed her collar. He pulled and ripped her uniform free of its buttons, exposing her sleeveless t-shirt underneath.

"No!" she croaked, though the volume was barely louder than a whisper.

The overwhelming fear for her life was replaced by anger. She wasn’t about to let this perverted *** force himself on her. She relaxed her body, feigned exhaustion, and thought the weight of her assailant would indeed crush her. But just as she had hoped, Yunker let up and relaxed his grip on her throat, obviously wanting her to stay awake for his little domination show. He slapped her with an opened hand that turned her head to the side.

With her vision slightly blurred, she saw her compad that had fallen out of her bag. It was barely within reach.

Yunker leaned forward and started giving her sloppy kisses to her bruised left cheek. He snarled at her. "I’m going to enjoy this," he whispered in her ear.

"Me too."

That brought a sardonic smile to Yunker’s face.

Caitrin mimicked his smile. Summoning all her strength, she brought her right knee up into his groin. The blow knocked the wind out of the bulky man, but Caitrin pressed her attack. She quickly grabbed the compad and struck the side of Yunker’s head with its flat end. The electronic device shattered on impact, but did manage to briefly daze the man. His body drifted to Caitrin’s left, and using his bleeding temple as a target, she brought her left elbow up and struck Yunker’s head to send him to the ground. She rolled onto her right side and tried to stand, but dizziness kept her on her hands and knees.

"Taryn!"

Caitrin looked up to see Maya in her room’s doorway, wearing a shocked and worried expression. Once Maya’s eyes found Yunker starting to get up, she analyzed the situation, secured her robe around her waist, and tugged her sleeves up, ready to continued the beating Caitrin had started.

"Guards!" Yunker yelped. He found a nearby chair and pulled himself up to rest on his knees. Within a second, a half squad of Palace Security guards filled the room, taking a position behind the Ambassador’s aide. One guard bent down to help Yunker to his feet, but he shook the armed man away. "Arrest her. This woman attacked me!" he bit out, holding the left side of his head and bending uncomfortably at the waist.

Maya was at Caitrin’s side in an instant, examining her wounds and torn uniform. The older Hispanic woman steadied Caitrin underneath her right shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Caitrin kept breathing hard, but was able to answer loudly for everyone to hear. "He attacked me. Unprovoked and . . ." The pain in her jaw returned as the adrenaline coursing through her subsided. She cringed at the agony.

Another group entered their quarters: Howell, flanked by his own set of Palace Security. "What’s going on?" He caught sight of Caitrin and his eyes grew wide.

Still breathing hard, Yunker smoothed his hair over to reveal the bloody spot on his scalp. "One of your employees assaulted me."

Anger brewed like bile in Caitrin’s throat. "I was defending myself!"

Maya looked up at Howell. "Sir, you know Taryn’s right," she pleaded.

One of the liveried men stepped forward, the collar and cuffs of his uniform colored red signified him as the commanding officer. "Regardless, you will be placed in confinement until this matter has been thoroughly investigated."

"What?!" all three STSD employees blurted.

The commander waved two of his men over to Caitrin. "We are a nation of laws." He turned to Yunker, who had gotten himself under control, and smiled. "Besides, I’m more apt to take the word of Mr. Yunker than the word of some half-witted, off-world sentry."

Howell shoved his way through the semicircle of guards to confront the commander. "You can’t do this." He pointed to the com-tablet in his hands. "We are scheduled to depart in half an hour!"

"That’s not my problem." The commander motioned with his weapon and the two guards secured Caitrin’s hands behind her back and steered her towards the doorway.

Confusion contorted Caitrin’s face as she stumbled forward. "Wait! Howell, do something."

Maya stood on her toes and called out, "We won’t leave you, Taryn."

With that final exchange, Maya’s words reverberated in Caitrin’s numb ears. My parents had made that promise. Morcant made that promise. There was little doubt in Caitrin’s mind that Maya would repeat the cycle.

Tears further blurred her vision, as she was dragged out into the hallway, the argument in the room continuing.

Only this time, it will be my turn to fail.

 

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

*faints*

*wakes up*

great job, also unexpected (in a good way)

Chapter 11

 

 

 

              The subterranean detention hall reeked of mildew and mold as Caitrin was led down the cold, dark corridor. The two guards holding her arms had not slackened their grip, leaving her skin burning underneath a torn, open uniform. Her jaw still ached, and her face was still sore from Yunker's slap. A few glowpanels flickered overhead, temporarily lighting the path at random intervals. In walking for what seemed like an hour, Caitrin couldn't calculate just how far below the Palace they were. If we go any farther, we'll end up on the other side of the planet. Her voice sounded hollow in her mind, surprised that she could make light of such dour circumstances. She searched the source of such rouge thoughts but failed to place its origin.

              The guard on Caitrin’s left grunted in frustration. “Is this really necessary, Davis? We could have thrown her in with the regulars up on Sub-A.”

              You know, it’s stupid questions like that . . . “ the guard on her right grumbled.

              “What?”

              “Clark, if you think the commander wanted her there, he would have told us.”

              Clark mulled over that for a second. “But what’s so special about this off-worlder?”

              Davis shook his head. “Doesn’t matter to me. We get paid for doing the dirty work, not talking about it.”

              “Yeah, but what if she’s telling the truth?” Clark asked with an uncomfortable casualness.

              “Stow it,” Davis ordered, his hissed remark echoing down the corridor.

              Knowing her comments would be ignored or otherwise met with a physical rebuttal, Caitrin remained silent.

              The three of them walked in relative silence for another hundred paces before coming to a stop at the end of the corridor.

              “This one,” Davis pointed out.

              Caitrin looked up from the ground to see a faintly lit cell with a tattered cot off to the right. A small sink and hole in the ground were the only other accoutrements she could see.

              “Cozy,” Clark commented sarcastically.

              They roughly tossed her forward, the abruptness and momentum pitching her to land on her hands and knees. Caitrin quickly turned over, shielding herself with a raised right hand, but the two guards just stood in the open doorway, laughing at her reaction.

              Clark gave a voracious smile and took a step forward, but a firm hand to his chest halted his progress. “Hey, Davis, c’mon,” Clark begged.

              “Later. We still have to get back to our posts before anyone notices how long we’ve been gone.” Davis dismissed Caitrin with a wave of his hand. “Besides, she isn’t going anywhere.” He turned on his heal.

              Clark pointed a finger at Caitrin. “I’ll be back for you,” he murmured. 

              “Let’s go!” Davis belted out.

              Clark took a step backward, and reached out to his left to an archaic keypad. “Sleep tight.” He pressed the panel and six glowing beams of energy descended from the doorway, measuring five centimeters in diameter and evenly spaced apart. Clark chortled to himself and caught up with Davis.

              Shivering, Caitrin pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She sat starring at the bluish glow before her and marveled. Like the energy shields the Palace security guards had used the day of the riot, the prison bars seemed familiar enough to be associated as incorporating the same technology. She had never seen such control over energy fields, and the fact that the Andvarians had mastered it caused her to shiver again.

              She reached her right hand out to the beams and found faint warmth radiating off of them. She searched the ground for loosened stone and found a tiny rock half the size of her palm. Caitrin backed away and sat on the edge of the cot. She tossed the rock at the center beam and was rewarded with a spark and a returned charred mass.

              Caitrin attentively reexamined her surroundings. The walls and ceiling had a hexagonal pattern and felt like ceramic tile. The floor was almost earthen, but was flat enough that Caitrin imagined it was once durable and intact. What Caitrin had mistaken for a sink was just a bowl with a single tap that had no means to turn it on. Frowning, she closed the distance to the “sink” and placed her hands underneath the spout. With a sputtered cough, warm water poured forth. Cupping it in her hands she lowered her head to get a good sniff. The pungent scent of sulfur tickled the back of her throat, and she reeling her head away. She watched the water fill the white bowl and was shocked to see clear liquid. In the cool air of her confinement cell, the warm water, despite its smell, was welcomed. While Caitrin wasn’t about to drink the stuff, she did splash some on her face. She winced as the water made contact with the abrasion on her cheek. She took a sleeve of her uniform and gently patted away the wetness.

              Sighing to herself, she pulled off her outermost garment. The cold air immediately sent chills up and down her arms, so she pulled the cot closer to the energy beams for the warmth they emitted. She spread her uniform top over the cot and inspected Yunker’s handiwork. The top four buttons were torn away, leaving a triangular flap to fall over the left chest pocket and giving any creep an ample view of skin-- had she not chosen to wear a sleeveless cotton t-shirt underneath. She reached a hand up to her throat and felt four scratch marks that started on her right collarbone and stopped diagonally after a few centimeters. Caitrin’s nose wrinkled in disgust over the struggle she had with Yunker. While she was glad she had fought him off and refused to quit, the emotional trauma of almost being made a pleasure toy for his sick game weighed down on her, compressing her surroundings even more.

              But you made it, she told herself. She doubted the image of Yunker’s crazed face would ever be fully erased from her memory, but the fact that he had not won would certainly lessen the impact. Thank God Maya was there. Caitrin’s shoulders slumped as she proceeded to put her jacket back on. Caitrin highly doubted Maya or Howell could really do much of anything to help her now. If Andvari laws were anything like the Boundaries of Limitations they had back on Earth, then the jurisdictional codes would keep her here as an enemy of the state.

              The sole glowpanel overhead flickered out of existence, leaving the restraining beams to provide a soft glimmering. Stifling a yawn, Caitrin realized it was probably past midnight, and the last few hours had drained her of energy. Pulling her jacket tight around her, she rested on the cot, arranging herself in the fetal position. Might as well try to get some sleep.

Closing her eyes, she prayed that no nightmares would come.

 

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

             

              The sound of footsteps found her ears and Caitrin’s eyes slowly opened. She was still in the same pose, facing away from the doorway, and Caitrin could tell she hadn’t been sleeping all that long. Her muscles and spine were not aching from the cot’s hard surface, nor were her eyes crusted over with mucus. Then her mind caught up to her senses. Clark. She was expecting the guard to return at some point, but not this early.

              As quietly as she could, Caitrin rolled onto the cold ground and found a piece of loose stone twice as large as before. She cupped it in her right hand and crawled over to the forward wall, her body a few centimeters away from the glowing beams of energy. With her back against the wall, she listened to the footsteps growing louder. This time, I’m ready. She tightened her grip on the rock.

Then the footsteps faltered. Caitrin frowned. An incoherent voice whispered something, and Caitrin knew there were two people coming for her. Great. The glowing bars retracted into the upper portion of the doorway. Caitrin’s muscles tensed as she prepared to spring into action.

“Miss Collin?”

Caitrin froze. That voice. It sounds familiar.

“Miss Collin, are you okay? Are you injured?”

Still holding her impromptu weapon, Caitrin leaned to her side to peer out the doorway. There stood a tall woman, this time in much more casual clothing, with a youthful male at her side. “Administrator Mahlon, what are you doing here?” Caitrin asked in disbelief, stepping out to square her shoulders with Mahlon.

Naomi Mahlon looked Caitrin up and down, and a concerned look furrowed her brow. “Are you injured, Miss Collin?” she asked again.

Caitrin shrugged uneasily. “I’ll be fine, once I get out of here.” She frowned. “How did you know I was here?”

“We will tell you everything,” she quickly looked behind her, back down the corridor, “but for now, we must hurry.” Naomi motioned to the male on her right. “This is my son, Killian. He will see to your safety.”

Killian reached out and grabbed Caitrin’s hand. “Come, Miss Collin. The guards will not be far behind.” He gave a gentle tug, but Caitrin remained still.

“What is going on, Administrator?” she implored, as she finally allowed Killian to pull her out into the corridor. “Why would you do this for me?”

“I know you are innocent of the charges, anyone not being under the Loyalists’ payroll could see that.” Naomi opened her mouth to say more, but a clattering of distant footsteps stopped her. “We must go, now.”

Caitrin nodded and followed her two rescuers back the way they had come. Caitrin noticed Killian and Naomi barely made a sound while keeping a fast pace, so she did her best to match their stealth. The boy kept a firm grip on Caitrin’s hand, and she stumble when he took a sharp left turn.

“This way,” he whispered, as they entered a small chamber that branched off the main corridor. 

She squinted in the darkness, searching for an endpoint, but found nothing on which to focus. Naomi stepped past her and started placing her hands along the hexagonal-patterned walls. Caitrin could barely see Killian doing the same thing at a lower spot to the left. “Can I help?”

Neither of them responded, nor did they need to; Killian’s hand finally found the disguised panel. A soft, low rumble came from the wall that ran parallel to the length of the corridor, and a section flickered with pseudo-motion to reveal an arched tunnel. Warm air rushed out from the opening, and Killian backed away. His face contorted into a look of disgust.

“What?” Caitrin asked, only to get her answer a second later. The gush of air stung her senses, and she recognized it as the same sulfuric scent of the water in her cell.

“Go, quickly,” Killian implored.

Naomi ducked down and motioned for Caitrin to follow her. Bending at the waist to avoid being smacked in the head, Caitrin entered the hidden passageway. Even before Caitrin was two steps in, Killian was behind her, watching the tunnel’s entrance opaque back to the geometric shapes it once held. As it changed, the tunnel was plunged into darkness, and Caitrin suppressed a gasp.

The muffled sounds of footsteps could be heard, and Caitrin held her breath. She lowered herself into a squat and placed a hand on the ground to maintain her balance. The floor was surprisingly smooth, but unlike tile, it gave a few centimeters under prolonged weight, acting as cushion. By now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could begin to make out the trace lines of the walls and ceiling. The arched entrance was roughly a third of the height of the tunnel, and Caitrin could stand if she really wanted to. The footsteps picked up in pace, a verbal exchange took place, and then the guards were past, presumably running back to tell their commander of the escaped prisoner.

“Alright, they’re gone,” Killian said finally. He brushed past Caitrin and took the lead again. Removing a glowrod from his back pocket, he flicked it on. He held the glowrod up above his head, and the bluish light played haunting shadows over his facial features. “Let’s go.” He turned to head farther down the tunnel, but not before Caitrin got her first real look at the Administrator’s son.  Even in the blue hue, Caitrin could tell he shared her same light complexion, though his hair color was a dirty blond. His blue eyes matched his mother’s in both shape and color.

As they walked, Caitrin noticed the walls held on to the afterglow of Killian’s light, creating a shimmering honeycomb effect that faded slowly. More unknown tidbits for me to ask about later, she conceded. 

Naomi must have caught the confusion on her face. “Are you all right, Miss Collin?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no I’m fine, really.” Caitrin reached out and felt the glowing surface with her fingertips. “This place just seems . . . completely unique. First, I see Palace Security using an energy shield I’ve never seen before. Then the energy bars that kept me in my cell. Now this . . .”

Naomi smiled in response, but the corners of her eyes wrinkled, leaving a disconcerting undertone. “Andvari is unique in many ways.” She paused for a moment, considering her words. “Some more unique than others.”

Before Caitrin could ask for clarification, Killian came to a stop at a cross section with another tunnel. Caitrin felt Naomi’s warm hand grasp her own. “This is where we must part, Miss Collin,” Naomi said apologetically. “If I am gone for too long they will suspect me of aiding you.”

“I understand,” Caitrin replied solemnly. “What happens now?”

“Killian will lead you out into the woodlands. From there . . .” Naomi’s brows met together in concentration, her head dipped down to look at their joined hands.  “May I ask something of you?”

Caitrin nodded. “I am in your debt. You just gave me my freedom.”

Naomi lifted her head, and her eyes blazed into Caitrin’s with intensity. “I ask the same of you. I am a prisoner here, Miss Collin. A prisoner of politics.” She visibly swallowed. “A prisoner of this Palace.”

“Mother, you must hurry, please,” her son urged, nervously looking down the four different directions.

“Killian will take you to someone that can help place you on the right path.” Naomi took both of Caitrin’s hands in hers. “Will you help us?”

Waves of conflicting thoughts ran through Caitrin’s mind, and she tried her best to not let her face reveal them. Confusion rose up at first, as she tried to piece the mystery of the Administrator’s statements together. Outright refusal replaced it, when she thought of her lack of skill in the political arena. Pity came, given Naomi’s said predicament. And then something clicked in her brain. “Who is this person that can help me?”

Naomi smiled. “An old friend and patriot of Andvari. Donagh.” She inclined her head. "Will you help?"

Catrin felt her pulse quicken and warmth flood through her veins. She highly doubted Morcant could have led her to Naomi, but the Administrator was a direct link to her husband’s ally. “Yes, I’ll do it,” she said with a quivering voice. This is it. This is my chance. Relief, excitement, and anxiousness sought to overwhelm her, but she quelled her emotions with a deep breath.

Naomi pulled Caitrin in for a quick but firm embrace. “Good luck,” she whispered. Naomi took a step back and gathered her long coat’s sash tighter around her waist. “I must go now, as should you.”

“Thank you, Administrator Mahlon,” Caitrin said with tightness in her throat.

Killian’s hand touched Caitrin’s elbow. “Come now, Miss Collin.”

Caitrin turned to go, but kept her eyes on Naomi’s departing wave. After a few seconds, the Administrator disappeared down the opposite way of the tunnel.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Extinguishing the glowrod, Killian pushed open the circular hatch of their escape route. The temporary darkness was quickly replaced with the natural light from the waxing moon up above, and Caitrin stepped out on the leaf-covered forest ground. The air was thick with fog, and the moonlight did an adequate job of illuminating the mist. Killian closed the hatch and surveyed the area with watchful eyes.

Caitrin gave him a curious look. “Everything okay?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I was . . . “ he shook his head. “Forgive me, it has been a long time since I’ve accessed these tunnels.”

“How long?”

“Years.” Killian ran a hand through his hair. He pointed off to the right and Caitrin could make out the faint outlines of a rectangular shaped building no larger than an equipment shed. “When I was a child I was friends with the previous Administrator’s daughter,” he continued as they walked over broken branches and leaves. He let out a short laugh. “We used to pay hide-and-seek together in the Palace. She was always better than me, but one day we stumbled upon the tunnel system that ran through the entire Palace.”

“And what about this place?” They took the three stone steps up to the dilapidated building and Killian pushed the creaking door open. He turned a single yellow light on with a flick of a wall switch, and Caitrin felt her jaw drop when she stepped through the doorway. The exterior of the shack was built to hide the pristine, modern setup inside. The walls and ceiling were an antiseptic white and the floor looked like pleated black rubber. One corner was a dedicated refresher station, with a shower and sink. The others held a small generator, a food heating plate, and a cabinet with unknown contents.

“I finished putting this place together a couple months ago. Right when things started to get weird.” Killian walked over to the generator and activated it. “I have to rig up this generator to charge the battery power supply.” A small vibration ripped the floorboards underneath their feet, but otherwise the generator was silent. He pointed to the cabinet and the heating plate. “There’s some food in here and you can use the plate to warm it up." He nodded to the shower and sink with a lift of his chin. “The water will be warm in a couple minutes, if you’d like to clean up.”

Remembering her most recent experience with Andvari plumbing, she raised an eyebrow. “Will it smell like crap?”

“What? Oh. No, it won’t,” Killian assured her. “There’s also a change of clothes in the bottom drawer. They might be a bit small for you, but you really shouldn’t be wearing that uniform anymore.”

Caitrin looked down at her sweat-stained clothing. “Yeah, good idea.” She raised her head and found Killian staring at her. “So . . .”

The younger man closed his eyes and shook his head distractedly. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you be.” He brushed past her and closed the door behind him.

“Thanks,” Caitrin said through the door. She suppressed a giggle. Through all of his ”tough guy” attitude, Killian was still a teenage boy. “I’ll come out when I’m ready.”

“Okay,” came his muffled reply.

Given the hurried importance of meeting with Donagh, Caitrin thought about simply washing her face and changing clothes. But being on the run in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, she supposed it would we wise to clean up while she had the chance.  She started the water, grabbed one of the food packets, and waited for both to heat up. By the time her meal was ready the shower water was hot. She took off her uniform and took a bite of food with every article she removed.  She left the remaining third of her meal till after her shower, and she stepped into the soothing warmth of the water. Caitrin sighed as tight muscles in her neck and back relaxed under the hot water. Whatever reservoir Killian had rigged up for his little hut it wasn’t very large, and Caitrin found her warm, watery relief quickly turn colder. Just as well. I’d probably stay under that tap for an hour, if I could.

She retrieved a long, harsh towel from the cupboard under the sink and quickly dried off. She took the rest of her meal in two large bites and removed a stack of clothes that were neatly piled in the bottom drawer. A few shirts and pants that one would wear to an extravagant party were on top, but Caitrin did find a black jumpsuit like the one Maya had worn the other night.  She shook her head and got dressed.

Two minutes later, she opened the door and found Killian slouched on the second step with his arms folded across his chest. “I’m ready.”

He jerked his head up and quickly stood, using his hands to maintain his balance on the railing. “All set?” he asked, doing his best to shake off his tiredness.

Caitrin nodded and smiled. She found his lack of recovery amusing but understandable. After all, it is well past midnight. “Are you going to eat anything?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” They exchanged places so Killian could step back inside. He turned off the generator, then the light, and they were once again off into the moonlit forest.

"Let's go meet Donagh."

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Jeez, this is really great! You should give a shot towards literature and writing if you haven't already. It's too good to be ... for lack of a better term... 'squandered' online, in a forum, where the thread could die. I'd actually like to see this in book form... and I only read the first paragraph... does that tell you how good it is?

---

tadshikonatsu:

XD go brock!

Yo saco la basura.

LaZy FrOg:

you need to have been, to be a has been.



DiS is a never was.

SC2- Artifex
CC: 667

Zbrock1045:Jeez, this is really great! You should give a shot towards literature and writing if you haven't already. It's too good to be ... for lack of a better term... 'squandered' online, in a forum, where the thread could die. I'd actually like to see this in book form... and I only read the first paragraph... does that tell you how good it is?

Yes, he is an excellent writer, one whom I greatly respect :)

---

SPQR! An ambitious historical project, coming soon. Check the Library for early version test writes. Recommended for anyone with a love of history.

this is amazing, shame no one visits the library anymore...

---

just call me R!zZle BiZzl£, it was my '08 account... i joined on 09-19-2008.
WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?.....YEEAAH!

I smoke a fat pound of grass, and fall on my ass,
faster than a fat ***, who sat down too fast.

GLORY GLORY MAN UTD!

riddle bang:this is amazing, shame no one visits the library anymore...

I guess I've been demoted to nobody.:(

---

Operation Waypoint hijack is in effect!

[please let me know if this chapter makes sense, or if you even understand what's going. i have a feeling i may have totally lost some.] 

 

Chapter 12

 

They had acquired an old utility vehicle that the city had long since abandoned due to its condition and ventured down winding dirt roads. Killian seemed adept at driving the truck, but Caitrin still held on tight when he took a turn a little too fast. He would apologize with every large bump or sharp veering, and she smiled at each exchange. He was in his late teens— Caitrin couldn’t tell for sure his exact age— but his face wore a constant stern expression, making him appear older and more mature.

The utility vehicle dipped when a crater on the road came too quickly for Killian to react, and a massive vibration rippled through the chassis. "Sorry," he apologized.

Caitrin laughed politely. "It’s okay." She looked over at Killian to find him blushing. She waited for the awkward moment to pass, then took on a more serious tone. "So," she started, "what was your mom talking about when she said she was a prisoner in the Palace?"

Killian’s lip twitched. "There’s a lot wrong with Andvari right now, even though you wouldn’t be able to tell by the news broadcasts." He sighed. "I don’t know a lot about politics, but I guess when my mom got elected, the Governor’s and Rep’s pretty much told her what to say and do."

"Really?" Caitrin asked carefully.

A smile crept onto his face. "But my mom can get pretty worked up about that stuff." Killian’s expression smoothed to impassive. "She told them she would inform the Andvarians of the corruption, but . . ." He trailed off and worked his jaw for a moment. The truck hit another pothole, but Killian remained wordless.

Caitrin tilted her head down. "You don’t have to—"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It’s just that . . . there’s a lot that happened with my mother. I could barely understand what was going one, let alone be able to explain it properly." He took one hand off the wheel and rubbed one eye at a time. In the dark interior of the truck, Caitrin couldn’t tell if he was wiping away sleepiness or tears. "In short," he continued with obvious strain in his voice, "my mom is a puppet ruler."

Nodding her head, Caitrin reached out and gently grabbed his shoulder. Whether her gesture distracted him or if he was avoiding another road hazard, the utility vehicle swerved to the left. She braced herself by pressing her right arm against the dash. "And if you get us to Donagh in one piece, I’ll do what I can to get all this sorted out," she said playfully. Still leaning slightly forward, she gave his shoulder a squeeze and folded her arms across her chest. "Deal?"

Killian’s laugh sounded like a mix between nervousness and joy. "It’s a deal."

She leaned back in the worn bench seat and decided against asking the teenager anymore questions. She was tempted to close her eyes, but the bumpy ride assured her she would not find any slumber. Instead, she craned her neck out the opened passenger window, letting the cool evening breeze be as effective at keeping her awake as a splash of cold water. She looked up into the night sky through the treetops, and gazed at the stars above. I am a long way from home, she admitted to herself. But at least now I know where I’m going.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

After an hour of rough driving, they came to a stop in a clearing nestled up against a mossy cliff face. Killian got out first and held up a hand, informing Caitrin to stay in the vehicle. The headlights illuminated his lower half, and then he walked past the beams, vanishing in the dark. Caitrin unbuckled her seat belt and eagerly waited.

He returned after a few moments. "Okay, follow me." Killian took out his glowrod and the two headed to the right.

With clammy hands and a racing heart, Caitrin followed. Each crunching step sounded like muffled explosions to her dazed ears. Something just wasn’t sitting right in her gut, but she couldn’t place it.

After several dozen paces, Killian came to a stop at the cliff wall. He waved the glowrod’s beam across a narrow opening in the rocks. "In there." He handed Caitrin the glowrod. "I can go no farther," he added gravely.

Frowning, she asked, "why?"

"What Donagh tells you are for your ears alone."

She turned the glowrod over in her hands, wondering why she felt uneasy. "You’ll be right here if I need anything, right?"

He nodded silently.

Taking a deep breath, Caitrin squeezed through the crevice. The walls on either side of her expanded the farther she walked, and Caitrin quickly found herself in a dome-shaped room. The circular walls and floor matched the same materials as the tunnel system they had used to escape the Palace. There were no objects in the room, save for a small, glowing plate in the center that was providing the only illumination, besides her glowrod. Caitrin flicked her handheld light off and placed it in one of the many pockets her jumpsuit offered.

"Donagh?" she said quietly. A thud from behind caused her to spin around and strike a defensive stance— but there was nothing but a hexagonal-patterned surface. She swallowed when she realized her only route out of the chamber had been sealed, vanishing in the geometric shapes. Her muscles tensed.

"There’s no need to be afraid," a soft, male voice soothed from the center of the room.

Caitrin slowly turned around, her eyes wide with anticipation and fear.

Glimmering up from the central plate, a fuzzy, shifting hologram burned to life. In stuttered bluish hues, it would sporadically take the shape of a man standing with arms behind his back, but the image would only stabilize for a fraction of a second before it was lost to a mess of white noise pixels. It reminded Caitrin of when news reports from far away colonies were filtered through too many compression transmitters, causing the static to overwhelm the onsite reporter. At first she shielded her eyes from the brightness, but the holoform soon dimmed, making it easier for her to view the seizure-inducing image.

"Donagh?" she inquired again.

"I am he," Donagh responded. Through the haze of static, his head tilted slightly to the side. "What is it you seek?" he asked without preamble. His voice was oddly accented, and she couldn’t put an ethnicity to it.

"Well, I . . ." For a moment, Caitrin was at a loss for words. What do I seek? I want to know what happened to Morcant, but I didn't even know his alias here. He could have been under any identity at the time. She sighed. Of all her trouble coming to Andvari and finally meeting Donagh, she was at a loss for words. The only sound in the chamber was a low-level hum, and then finally, Caitrin found her voice. "I'm looking for someone," she said hesitantly, her words coming with odd difficulty. "Someone that told me to find you."

"Oh?" Donagh stated. The blurry figure shifted his weight to his right leg. "And who are you?" he asked, his tone somewhere between a challenge and questionable kindness.

Caitrin took a deep breath and braced herself. "My name is Caitrin Lann." Even as she announced those words she felt uneasy about revealing her true identity. But if Morcant wanted her to contact Donagh, the truth had to start somewhere. "My husband, Morcant Lann, told me to seek you out."

The holoform flickered red and yellow several times, then Donagh brought his head up, taking his time to respond. "Yes, I know of whom you speak, but not by that name." Donagh turned his head slightly to the left. "He and I were . . . acquainted."

Acquainted? Caitrin shook her head. "So you know what happened to him?" she asked in a spilling out of words. "Please, tell me." She did her best not to sound like she was begging, but Caitrin figured it didn’t really matter at this point.

The hazy image seemed to freeze for a moment, but Donagh just might have been perfectly still. "He went by the name of David Longrad, but for your sake, I’ll call him Morcant." Donagh took a deep breath, as if he was preparing for a long recitation of a story, and let it out slowly. "Morcant was on an ONI infiltration team, seeking to gather intel to supplant dissident factions in the government. Rumors of his team were rampant at the time, so I sought him out." He paused reflectively. "He was a kind, gentle man, but also determined and very leery of hearing me out." Donagh shifted his weight again and craned his neck forward. "Tell me, has Administrator Mahlon told you of her plight?"

"Briefly," she managed to squeak out between bated breaths. So far, everything was making sense to Caitrin.

Donagh pulled his head back. "What you may not know is that Andvari is in a three-way power struggle."

Caitrin gave him a puzzled look, but he went on to explain.

"The Loyalist want the planet to fall under the jurisdiction of the UNSC, while the Patriots— as they like to call themselves— are mostly made up of native Andvarians that seek independence in full." The holo-image flashed off for a brief second before returning to its standard blurry state. "The third group," he paused, probably for a dramatic effect, "is the Colonial Liberation Force."

She frowned. "I’ve never heard of them before."

"They are Insurrectionists; real Insurrectionists. Secretive and illusive, trained and covert, they have been infecting almost ever aspect of Andvari life for the last few decades. The CLF have successfully infiltrated the Andvarian government and have been in control for some time now. While the Patriot Party did win the planet’s freedom, it was the CLF that quickly propped up the infrastructure necessary to sustain the colony; they were the ones that pushed for the militarization of Andvari." Donagh sighed. "Naomi is being controlled by true Insurrectionists."

All these acronyms were starting to make her head ache, but as Donagh continued his explanation, everything began to make sense to Caitrin. All along, Maya had held suspicions about the locals, and to a certain extent, she was right. These Innies were unique in that they were using subterfuge rather than brute force and outright defiance. Caitrin could see that the former worked in ways the later could never do. "So did Morcant’s team uncover this fact?" she asked.

"Partially. I knew his entire squad wouldn’t blindly follow one . . . such as me, but I was able to make contact with Morcant separately. The rest of his team and even his own commander vehemently refused to believe the Patriot Party were not Insurrectionists." Donagh lifted his chin. "As far as this sector’s Office of Naval Intelligence is concerned, Andvari is ripe for a UNSC military takeover."

Shaking her head, Caitrin looked around for someplace to sit and reluctantly sat cross-legged on the floor of the chamber. All of this information was coming so fast and she hoped it would all process into some semblance. "Wait, so how do you know what the local ONI spooks know?"

If Donagh was perturbed by Caitrin’s casual manner, he didn’t show it. "There are things about me that best remain surreptitious. I have my . . . connections." He shrugged. "Just know that Morcant trusted me," he said quietly.

She pondered that for a moment. Caitrin still had an itch in the back of her mind that made her skeptical of Donagh. What if he duped Morcant? She dismissed the thought immediately, knowing her husband wouldn’t fall for such cheap tricks. She recalled the message he left her and another puzzle piece fit awkwardly into place. "Okay," she started, "I know that Morcant approached his commander with these facts, but what happened to him after that?" Deep inside, various emotions began to swirl about, and preemptive tears began to form in her eyes as she prepared herself.

Donagh froze again, this time flickering in shades of orange and violet. "This may be difficult."

"Donagh, please," Caitrin pleaded, blinking back tears.

Donagh's sign came as a puff of static. "He was captured by the Colonial Liberation Force," he said somberly.

Letting her hands fall limply into her lap, her back suddenly tensed with the bewildering news. Confusion furrowed her brow, and she stiffened for more jarring. "Is he . . ." her voice cracked with tiredness, "is he still alive?" She wiped her tear-dripping nose with a roll of her shoulder.

Donagh shook his head. "I’m sorry, but I cannot confirm that."

Caitrin slammed her fist down on the floor. "You don’t know?!"

"Your anger is understandable," he quickly soothed. "But the Insurrectionists have hidden him away somewhere beyond my tracking capabilities. I do know he has not left the planet."

Caitrin gathered herself and slowly stood. "Do you at least have his last known coordinates?"

"I do, however the data would be irrelevant. Given the time period—"

"I'll decide if it's irrelevant," Caitrin bit out. "Tell me," she said through clenched teeth.

His postured told Caitrin he was put aback by the forcefulness in her words. "Twenty-two kilometers, fifteen meters, due Northwest," he said in monotone.

"That close?"

"Yes, now if you are finished with this line of inquiry, would you like to discuss Naomi Mahlon's predicament?" Donagh asked.

Frowning, Caitrin shook her head. "What?" What could be more important than finding Morcant?

"Surely, Killian told you the reason for bringing you here," Donagh replied, sounding momentarily puzzled. "Well, at least our earlier discussion will bring you up to speed on the matter." Through the hazy visual static, it looked like Donagh had raised an eyebrow. "And in helping the Administrator, you could also help yourself."

Caitrin held her hand up. "Okay, you need to spell this out for me." Her mind was still spinning with the idea that Morcant could very well be alive.

Nodding once, Donagh began to explain things. "To maintain order on Andvari, the CLF need to be exposed and removed. With their hold on the Administrator and with them circumventing the Colonial Administration Authority’s negotiations, the Insurrectionists will undoubtedly take the planet in a few swift moves." He shifted his weight again. "I have reason to believe your husband has been interrogated and is currently being held captive. By freeing him, Morcant can notify the Office of Naval Intelligence. They’ll have no choice but to believe him. He knows the truth, and if I can supplement him with valuable information on the CLF, his superiors can finally see the real threat."

Caitrin rubbed the side of her face thoughtfully. "Donagh, I doubt ONI will greet him with open arms, regardless of the intel he may possess. He’s already been threatened with a court-martial by Colonel Ross, so what would make Morcant’s commanding officer change his mind?"

The image shifted to a green hue for a good five seconds. Then, with a playful, almost sinister laugh, Donagh’s shoulders bobbed up and down twice. "I’m holding the ultimate wildcard." The holofrom turned back to its usual blue. "Trust me; they will listen."

A cold chill ran up her spine, and suddenly, Caitrin felt very uncomfortable in the small, domed room. She worked her jaw for a moment to stall a reply. I can deal with whatever he’s talking about after I find Morcant.

Donagh sighed. "The other option would be a very drawn out campaign against the CLF, and I doubt the Administrator— or Andvari, for that matter— can hold out much longer."

Caitrin looked down at her opened hands and sniffed away the last streak of tears. In other words, it would take an army and a couple hundred intelligence specialists to break the Insurrectionists on their home turf. On the other hand, finding Morcant alive . . . Of all her fears and worries of the past few months, Caitrin never would have expected to be searching for her husband, alive. Whatever means necessary, she swore to herself that she would find him. "So, where do we begin?" she asked as she brought her head up.

The fuzzy image stabilized long enough for Donagh to appear folding his arms across his chest. "Given the time period of Morcant’s last know whereabouts, I suspect a pattern in the movements. The CLF has been snatching people at random, but I’ve been able to track those captured up until the time they disappear. The locations shift regularly, but if we triangulate the coordinates we find an underground—"

Internally, Caitrin sighed. Donagh knew where to find Morcant, but what the glitching figure before her wanted was a loyal minion. Fine. If it gets me closer to my hsuband, I’ll play. Caitrin held up a hand to halt his explanation. "Easy there. Just tell me where we need to go."

Donagh nodded once. "The tunnel systems they use are disconnected to the Palace, but the points of last contact create an interesting, circular pattern." A topical grid-patterned map of Milanó and its outlying areas replaced his holoform. While Donagh’s image was blurred and shifty, the map was clear and precise. Rod dots pulsed into existence, circumferencing the Northern Forest, and a curved, dotted line connected them, creating a half-circle of red. Segmented perfectly, Caitrin noticed a gap in the lower third of the arch, and a green dot soon glowed to life in its place. "Here is where a likely point of entry will be," Donagh’s voice resounded. "I can’t guarantee it will be open, but there is a possibility it has yet to be used by the CLF."

"So that’s where we’ll start," Caitrin finished for him.

His holofom returned to its blurred self in the center of the room. "Killian has all the pertinent information on a compad."

Her mouth shot open. "He’s coming with us?"

"He is coming with you," Donagh corrected. "I will monitor your progress and feed you the necessary information as it comes in."

"So you won’t come with us?" The thought of Donagh sending her off to die was now in the forefront of her mind.

He tilted his head to the side. "It is not that I won’t, I can’t. At least, not now." He straightened back up. "But you two will not be alone. There is another that has been called upon. One that knows what is at stake."

"Taryn?"

Caitrin spun around to find Maya Barros standing in the passageway door, her face brightening up with every passing second of silence. "Maya?" Caitrin wanted to run and hug her newly found friend, but the fact that Maya had found Caitrin here, meeting with Donagh, gave her a cautious pause. "What are you doing here?"

Maya waved at the holo image before them. "Donagh contacted me," she said. "I . . ." she trailed off and took a step closer to Caitrin. "I’m sorry, but I have not been entirely honest with you." She reached out and took Caitrin’s hands in hers. "I’m with the Office of Naval Intelligence."

"What?" Caitrin blurted out.

She winced but continued. "I was tasked with picking up where our last infiltration team left off. Their identities had been compromised, and I had to remain undercover till I could slip away." She gave a lopsided grin. "And remaining here to help in your defense was enough to convince Abbott and Howell to let me stay." She gave Caitrin’s hands a reassuring squeeze. "I’m flying solo on this mission, and the only thing Section Three had going for them was a hunch and a single name: Donagh." Maya smiled and clutched her tightly. "So I was surprised when he contacted me shortly after you were taken away. He caught me up to speed with all that’s going on."

Caitrin returned the hug, and then pulled back to arm’s length. "Small world." She swallowed past a lump in her throat, one formed by too many changes in too little time. "ONI? Really?" she asked, not fully believing it.

"I’m sorry for my deception, but it was necessary to protect us both." Maya shrugged. "Same reason I can’t tell you my real name."

Caitrin snorted. "I’m really here to find my husband, Morcant," She admitted. Caitrin looked down, then raise her eyes to meet Maya’s. "And my name is not Taryn Collin. I’m Caitrin Lann."

Maya just smiled even wider. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lann." She craned her neck forward. "Shall we go find your husband?"

Caitrin pulled Maya in for another hug. "Gladly."

 

[please let me know if this chapter makes sense, or if you even understand what's going. i have a feeling i may have totally lost some.] 

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

yes it makes sense.

---

Operation Waypoint hijack is in effect!

Chapter 13



After a solid five hours of sleep, Caitrin awoke to the rich smell of coffee. Maya handed her a steaming mug and took a sip from her own. "Thanks," Caitrin said, taking the offering with a bowed head. "I don't think I've slept that good in a long time."

"Good, cause you'll need to be on your toes from here on out." Maya gave a smile and plopped down on the cot by Caitrin's feet. "Are you going to be ready to go?"

"Yeah, just give me a few," she said between cautious sips from her mug.

Killian, Maya, and Caitrin had crashed at another faux worn-looking building hidden deep in the Northern Forest, this one being able to house a half dozen people comfortably. Killian assured the two women the place had remained undiscovered from anyone, and Caitrin wondered how many of these places the youth had tucked away.

It was just before dawn, and the local insects were still buzzing about-- a prelude to the songs of birds. It was just as well; either would help mask the sounds of their approach through the forest undergrowth.

The sound of shuffling of feet brought Caitrin's head up to see Killian standing sideways in the doorway, looking obviously unsure of entering. He cleared his throat. "Um, are you decent?" he asked uneasily.

Caitrin examined herself with a glance, noticing the jumpsuit she was still wearing was half unbuttoned. She quickly fastened her jumpsuit up to the throat and sat upright. "Yeah, Killian."

The teenager remained sideways for a moment longer, glancing at them out of the corner of his right eye, before finally entering with a compad in hand. "I have some good news."

"Let's see it," Maya said, moving off to the left and patting the space on the cot between her and Caitrin. When Killian hesitated, Maya gave a short chortle. "We won't bite, kid."

His face flushed a shade of red, the color being intensified by the orange haze of morning that filtered in through a wide upper window on the far wall of the room. As he took a seat, Caitrin could detect some annoyance in Killian's mechanical movement, and she flashed Maya a warning glance, visually telling her to ease up.

"Alright," he said, as he placed the compad on his lap. "I've compiled a list of equipment we'll need, and Donagh has located a small tech and weapons cache that has been abandoned for some time now." He looked over to Caitrin. "We actually passed it on our way out of the Palace." Killian touched the screen and a list began scrolling up. He narrowed down his search with amazingly fast keystrokes. "I have most of the computer gear on hand, but the rest we'll find there."

Maya nodded. "And if not, we'll just have to improvise." She must have caught Caitrin staring at his hands. "Killian here will be our tech wiz. He knows the systems like the back of his hand, and he's more familiar with Donagh."

Killian entered more information on the compad and shrugged. "I've known him almost all my life. From early on, my mother told me I could go to him with all sorts of questions, but to never mention him to anyone."

Caitrin frowned. "I'm sorry, Killian, but I have to ask this." She turned to face him, but the youth was still focused on the screen. "What is Donagh?" she asked, and winced at the discomfiture of the question. It didn't sound any better in her mind than it did out loud.

Killian's fingers paused over the keys. "He's the Advisor," he said with a tinge of bewilderment. "He has helped my mother countless times in the past and has been like a grandfather to me." He turned his head and gave her a confident stare. "I trust him implicitly."

Caitrin nodded, but her expression remained. "I don't doubt that you do." Her stomach growled, and she wasn't sure if it was from the need for food or the tension growing in the room. "But is he . . ." she sighed, hoping not to offend the boy, "is he an AI or is he corporeal?"

Expectantly, Killian's eyebrows met in a mildly menacing stare. He opened his mouth to retort, but he clamped his lips closed. His eyes told Caitrin his unspoken question: How could you say such a thing?

"What Caitrin is trying to say," Maya interjected, "is . . ." Maya waved a hand for Caitrin to keep going.

"I just want to know what kind of allies we have," Caitrin continued. To me there's a big difference between a real person and some program. "Is he just an information broker?"

Killian frowned, as if she should understand. "He's the Advisor. He holds a vast amount of knowledge and wisdom."

Caitrin could care less about Donagh's moniker, but it did have an air of ambiguity that made her shiver.

"Have you ever met him in person?" Maya asked.

"I-- well, no," Killian admitted, looking more uncomfortable at this impromptu interrogation with every passing second. "His location has to be hidden, for safety protocols," he reasoned, more for himself than for the two women. "Besides, have you ever seen an AI so personal?"

Apparently, the boy had never thought along this line of reasoning, nor encountered the latest generation of smart AIs, Caitrin thought. Though if Donagh has been aiding his mom, then he must be a few decades old, way past the average lifespan of any UNSC AI.

Killian abruptly stood, tossing his compad on his vacated spot. "Why are we discussing this?"

Caitrin studied Killian for a brief moment. His posture was defensive in nature but layered underneath was a familiar uncertainty. "Killian," she said quietly, "if Donagh is all knowing, then why didn't he tell your mother about the CLF before she got into office?" She did her best to gently break the question.

"I never said he was omniscient." Killian snorted. "Donagh obviously found out about the CLF through my mother." He pointed a finger at Caitrin. "And if it wasn't for Donagh telling my mother and me of your imprisonment, you would still be locked up in a cell."

Maya held her hands up and slowly stood. "Look, just settle down. Whatever he is, we need Donagh's help."

"I know," Caitrin murmured. Maya's right, of course. They're both right. Regardless of the ice storm forming in her stomach, Donagh had given her the hope that she would see her husband again. Even if Killian is a bit naïve. "I'm sorry," she said to both of them.

Killian closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry too." His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Donagh has been a friend for many years now."

Maya smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We all share a common goal. If we all work together, we can do this. Okay?"

"Okay," Killian breathed and returned to his previous spot on the cot.

"Copy that," Caitrin said.

Still standing, Maya folded her arms across her chest. "Good. And just to clarify," she said with an authoritative overtone wrapped in a histrionic manner. "Since I'm still on assignment, I'll be in charge." She pointed a finger at both of them, one at a time. "But that doesn't mean I don't want your input."

Caitrin nodded and had already resigned to the leadership structure of their small team.

Maya's gaze swept over the two for a few passes before resuming her position on the cot beside Killian. "Now, let's take this one step at a time, shall we?" she stated in a lighter tone.

"Yeah," Killian laughed and wiped a callused hand over his face. "Okay, so first thing's first. The bunker . . ."

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

As it turned out, the depot they were hoping to raid was far from abandoned. Nice intel job, Donagh, Caitrin thought to herself. She hoped this was not a sign of things to come.

It was still just before daybreak and the three infiltrators were crouched at the base of a massive tree 300 meters away from the double-door entrance, using one of its roots for cover. A dirt road divided the forest, and the complex itself was a simple rectangular building flanked by a two meter-deep ditch. With the naked eye, they could see two guards with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders, conversing in an animated fashion.

"Amateurs," Maya muttered.

Caitrin and Killian exchanged glances.

Maya closed her eyes and pursed her lips together. "Sorry, no offense." She motioned with her hand towards the guards. "What do you think?" she asked in a whisper, but to Caitrin her tone was that of a teacher looking for a particular answer.

Killian's brow furrowed in concentration. "Looks simple enough. Take them out; walk inside."

Caitrin shook her head minutely. "They're too restless." She looked up to the ever-brightening sky and back down again. "There must be a shift change coming."

Maya nodded. "That would be my guess."

Caitrin looked over at Maya and couldn't help but smile. Overnight, her once casual STSD roommate had switched into the highly trained ONI operative she had successfully hid underneath. Maya's tone of voice, even her gait, had changed, but she managed to maintain her quirky personality just fine. "So what's the plan?"

"We wait."

It took just under five minutes for a cargo vehicle to arrive with a driver hauling three armed passengers. The truck had kicked up a good amount of dust from the dirt road and Caitrin could sense Maya preparing for action.

"Caitrin, come with me. Killian, you stay here," Maya ordered. "Signal us if there's more traffic." She poked her head up above the tree base then crouched back down. "Numbers from here on out," she said, adjusting her own headset.

"Got it," Killian confirmed. Caitrin half expected the boy to protest being told to stay in cover, but he apparently knew his place.

Keying her headset on, Caitrin nodded, signaling her readiness.

The vehicle was almost to its destination when Maya bolted into the thickening dust cloud with Caitrin on her heels. The ONI op timed it perfectly. They had made it across the road and landed in the fern-shrouded ditch just as the passenger truck came to a stop. Using the dust cloud as another layer of cover, they followed the swirling dust through the ditch till they could clearly hear the voices of the guards.

Maya held up a fist and sunk into the leafy greenery. Caitrin mimicked her crouching movement, making herself as small as possible. From a dozen meters away, she could hear coughing mixed with laughter.

"You know, you could drive a little slower. It would keep that dust to a gently rolling mist," one guard being relieved said in a joking manner. "It's about time you guys showed up. These double shifts are killing us."

"As if complaining about it will help," the driver murmured.

Caitrin slowly raised her head to sneak a peak at the gathered men. They all wore the same livery as Palace Security but their slackened unprofessional posture told her they were obviously less disciplined. Good for us.

One of the doors opened and out stepped another guard, this one an officer, given the fact that he had the comfort of an interior station. "Finally," he exasperated. "You guys get lost finding this place?"

"Give it a rest, will you?" the driver shot back from inside the rusted out truck. "I'm not the one that ordered the heightened security measures last night. You got a problem, talk to Higgins."

"Yeah, yeah," the officer said. He handed a smaller version of a compad to the replacement officer. "The latest numbers, Jimmy."

"Don't call me that," Jimmy retorted, and snatched the compad out of his hand. He gave it a casual glance and dismissed the three retiring guards with a wave of his hand. "You got any coffee brewing in there?" Jimmy asked, jerking a thumb towards the interior of the building.

"Nah, machine's busted."

Jimmy swore under his breath, and with that final exchange, the truck left with three different passengers. Within a solid minute, the small bunker was back to its normal looking self: two guards grumbling about their predicament with one grumbling inside.

Caitrin waited for Maya to make the first move, but her squadmate remained still, as if analyzing the situation to death. Finally, the two men turned to face each other, letting their rifles hang loosely over their shoulders, and Maya leaned over to Caitrin to whisper. "You take out the one closest to us; I'll sneak around and take the other." She handed Caitrin the collapsible shockstick she had appropriated from her STSD gear, and she pulled out a small pistol, one the size of her palm.

Caitrin reached over and laid a hand on Maya's sidearm. "Wait. These guys aren't Innies, One. They're just doing their jobs," she explained. "We don't need to kill them."

Maya's eyebrows met. "Maybe." But she spun the pistol in her hand, now holding it by the barrel. "Just be quick."

They both crept closer, using the sounds of insect life to mask their movement. The sun was now glinting over the horizon behind them, making their silhouettes that much harder to see. As the ditch came to an end, the bright orange light began to reflect against the bunker wall. Luckily for them, the ferns' coverage increased the closer they got to the wall, and Caitrin and Maya were soon hugging the bunker's exterior, hidden from the view of the guards.

By now, the guards were talking about some local sports team's triumphant return from a previously loosing season. They were ripe for the picking.

Maya tapped Caitrin on the shoulder, while still peering around the corner. She moved her left index finger in a circle and held up three fingers. Detaching from the wall, Maya walked past Caitrin and quietly made her way to the opposite side of the bunker by going around the back.

Her pulse was quickening, and Caitrin opened the shockstick to its full half-a-meter length. She thumbed it on, the low-level hum finding a natural home in the dissonant forest symphony. Caitrin took a position to peer around the wall, catching sight of the two guards fully enthralled in each others words. The one facing her was shielding his eyes from the morning rays with an upheld hand. At the far end, Maya's right eye peaked around the corner, followed by her left hand counting up to three.

One. Two. Three.

Simultaneously, the two women sprang into action. Maya took three quick strides; Caitrin took two large steps.

"Hey!" both guards yelled, each oblivious to the assailant behind them. They fumbled for their weapons, but never got another word out, let alone a chance to react.

Caitrin lunged forward with an outstretched arm, looking more like an Olympic fencer from ages past. The tip of the shockstick struck the bare neck of her target. With the highest setting possible, the jolt straightened him up, causing all his muscles to tense at once.

Maya swung her right arm up, the butt of the gun striking the guard's right temple. He staggered to the left, but Maya pressed her attack, bringing her left elbow to connect in the same spot.

With a collective thump, both men fell unconscious to the ground.

Maya smiled at Caitrin. "Happy?" she asked playfully. She started to wipe the blood off her sleeve, when the muffled sound of a chair being hastily pushed aside came from inside the bunker. "Go!" Maya hissed and pointed to the sides of the double doors.

They stood on either side with weapons ready. The right-most door clicked and began to open slowly.

"Avery? Jacobs?" Jimmy inquired, taking a cautious, first step forward. In his hand he held a grimy M6B with a finger already on the trigger. With his eyes firmly fixed on his two downed coworkers, he never saw Maya's right hook coming. With all her strength, she punched him in the jaw, spinning his head around for Caitrin to get a good look at his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Shaking and flexing her hand free of the pain, Maya pointed to the three bodies with her unhurt left hand. "Get them inside. I'll see what Mr. Officer has left us for Christmas."

It took two minutes to get the three guards inside the bunker, and it took Maya as long to find everything she needed.

"Three," Maya called out to Killian. "Get in here. There's some computer junk you probably want to snag."

"Copy that, One," he said quickly and anxiously. "On my way."

"Two, you keep watch," Maya ordered Caitrin, tossing her a nasty-looking pistol she had snagged from a weapons crate.

Nasty, Caitrin thought, as in deadly. Taking the sidearm in both hands, she slid up to the cracked, left door, watching Killian sprint across the dirt road.

He skidded to a stop and squeezed through the cracked door. "Excuse me," he said, drawing out the middle syllable. "Watcha got?" Killian asked Maya who was kneeling down in between racks, still stuffing a duffel bag full of various equipment.

She merely pointed to an opened crate with faded lettering etched on the side. "Help yourself."

Eyeballing the three men sprawled out in front of the officer's desk for a brief few seconds, Killian quickly snapped his head back up. He frowned at the crate but began sifting through the many compads, interface couplings, and universal transmitters.

Caitrin inclined her head thoughtfully and smiled. Computer Techs were all the same to her: young, fidgety, full of themselves. But Killian was proving to be very disciplined and orderly. She returned her full attention back to the road, keeping her eyes and ears focused for anything abnormal.

From the officer's desk came a staccato tone. All three turned their heads to look at the source: a simple terminal with a keypad. "Officer Jarvis, this is Central. Come in."

Maya swore under her breath. "Our pal Jimmy must have called the disturbance in before investigating. Clever b-stard."

Outside, an object began to solidify in the far out morning haze. "Uh, we got a problem." Caitrin pointed to the road. "Their ride is coming back."

Maya was quickly at her side, zipping up the bag she was clutching to her chest. "Great." She tossed the bag to the side and pulled out a newly acquired M6C pistol from a hip holster. Her gaze swept over the distance to the other side of the dirt road, and when she sighed, Caitrin knew they had little choice but to fight their way out.

"Is it the same truck?" Killian asked while taking a seat at the vacated desk.

Caitrin squinted and could easily make out the rust marks that marred the left side of the vehicle. "Yep." She turned to Maya. "Orders?"

The jamming home of a full clip was Maya's only reply.

Bile burned in the back of Caitrin's throat as she slowly accepted the circumstances. Maybe they're not responding to Jarvis' lack of a reply. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it wasn't true.

Four against two, didn't sound like very good odds, but Maya and Catrin had the element of surprise. At least we have that going for us.

"Wait a second," Killian shouted, then realized his voice was a bit too loud and softened it for the latter half of his remarks. "Don't fire."

Maya, hesitant to take her eyes off the rapidly returning truck, came back with a single worded response. "Explain."

The vehicle was within range of their pistols, and Caitrin could hear Killian hammering away at the keypad. "C'mon, Three," she urged nervously.

Killian finished his work and looked up at the two women. "Close the door!" he hissed, waving frantically with his hands. "Don't fire."

Caitrin stepped back and let the door click closed, Maya duplicating her maneuver. Standing up on their toes, they peered out the thin slitted windows of the double doors. To her amazement, the vehicle picked up speed and zoomed past the bunker, the driver beating the steering wheel uselessly. At such reckless speeds, the three men riding in the back had no chance of abandoning the rogue truck.

The dust trail faded with the sounds of a roaring engine in the distance, and Maya finally turned to see Killian with a satisfied grin on his face. She raised an eyebrow and a slight edge crept into her tone. "Explain," she repeated.

Motioning to the screen and taking her a little more seriously, Killian swallowed. "I tapped into the Palace Motor Pool Hub. I had already grabbed the ID number while I watched you ladies sneak up to take down the bad guys." He stood and began detaching his compad from the terminal. "Most of these utility vehicles have an automated pilot system which allows the Hub to route them to different locations inside the motor pool." He gave both of them a lopsided grin. "I simply told the truck to return for an emergency maintenance check."

Maya looked back at Caitrin, and she just shrugged. "Well, then, good work, Three," Maya said in her best impersonation of a seasoned dignitary. She picked up the bag and offered it to Caitrin. "Let's go. I don't want to be here when these guys start waking up."

Their leader opened one of the doors and was gone.

Caitrin gave Killian a respectful nod and smiled. Whether Maya wanted to admit it or not, Killian had indeed impressed both of them.

She waved him over, and inside, Caitrin hoped this was a sign of things to come.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)