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Elven Suicide: Part Five- Closing Circle
Posted By: The Arbitress
Date: 12 March 2005, 12:32 AM
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Elizabeth rested her head against the cool glass and put her hand up to steady herself. She stared at the shrinking planet, too numb for anything. Her guilt had finally overpowered her for good, her doctors suspected deep depression, and even suspected brain damage, self-infliction a possibility.
Her hand still felt the last fleeting touch with Christine's. Her mind flashed back.
Pressing a data chip into her hand, folding her fingers over it and squeezing until Chris thought her hand would break. According to military protocol, Elizabeth couldn't show any emotion, nor could she let on at all what was about to happen. But that didn't mean Chris couldn't. The way her mouth slightly dipped, her eyes widening slightly, her sharp intake of breath. Liz could only wonder if Christine understood what was happening, but her last glimpse of Chris's face would haunt her forever.
Then the walk back to the waiting ship, leaving forty teenagers standing at attention, with no idea what was happening. All she wanted to do was run back to the kids, and cling to them. Or at times pull out the gun holstered to her side (she still wondered why they would let her carry one) and shoot the bastards. The Admiral and Halsey, that is. But it took enough work just making her feet move, let alone shoot past the guards.
So now she was here. On the ship. Returning to Reach HQ, leaving behind forty teenagers on a wild planet that could still be crawling with Covenant for all they knew. And it finally sunk in through the fog in her mind.
They are going to die.
At first she was just stunned, then let out a cry and crumpled to the ground. She lay in a heap with her head wedged between her knees, shoulders rocking back and forth, sobbing and throwing up, barely noticing the foul taste and mess in her lap before vomiting again.
By the time anyone was able to reach her quarters after being alerted by her shrill cry, Elizabeth was unconscious.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christine watched Liz walk back to the ship, leaving her and her unit in the sweltering heat. She wasn't worried, ok, maybe a little. Usually they were told at least a little of what they were supposed to do. But this was probably just a new kind of mission.
A sharp jab in her palm brought her back to what Liz had handed her. The bright, iridescent pink of the object told her it was a data chip, but much larger then what she was usually given.
Probably just instructions.
She put her hand to her brow and slowly scanned the horizon. When she turned around, she recognized the base as the one they were supposed to 'infiltrate' before. But for once in her lifetime, it didn't bother her. She knew Sergeant Errickson well enough to know that it was Covie-free.
Though she wasn't sure the rest of the unit. She mustered her best leader voice again, hoping it would work better than it did last time.
"Ok, just set up inside. Leave watches outside on each side, with a buddy to watch your six. Other than that, just do what you want." She didn't bother assigning jobs, she had her own to do.
She walked inside, noting the musty smell, the walls thick with mold. Her mind was already in mission mode, so she stored that into her subconscious and concentrated on finding a computer terminal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chelsea Fronet pushed her cart of daily medications through the medical wing. She plastered a smile on her face, readying herself for the black hole that had once been room twenty-eight. She never pried into patients lives, but she wished just this once she had been given a little information about Elizabeth Marrion. There didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with her, except for the fact that every day she brought her antidepressants. Chelsea couldn't understand why the woman was so depressed.
She wheeled into the room, gathering Elizabeth's daily meds.
"How are we feeling today Eliz- oh my god."
She flew out of the room, forgetting entirely about her cart.
Elizabeth was laying in her bed, her arm stretched out over the edge of the bed. Her face was chiseled from stone, her eyes wide open, staring into space, clouded over, her mouth set in a permanent line. Angry red marks crisscrossed the length of her arm, and a deep gash was set in her wrist, with blood cascading to the ground like a waterfall. In the other hand she held her IV needle tight against her heart, staining her pillow with a light red rain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christine landed in the chair, raising a cloud of dust. She stood up and coughed into her sleeve.
"Oh man, what kind of mission is this? This is the kind of office I find after hours of searching?" she irritably muttered to herself. Well, it could be worse, she thought. You could be stuck with the mildew covered quarters that everyone else got. At least I got one that could be livable with a little air freshener.
Carefully, Chris lowered herself into the dusty chair, scrunching her nose from annoyance. Her hand absent-mindedly wiped at the filthy computer screen as she attempted to get the data pad to spring to life.
After a few minutes of whacking the pad against the desk in a futile attempt at awakening it (and a few pain in the ass shrill screams that sent the Eldar running to her office) it crackled to life. She jammed in the chip, nearly breaking it. Chris winced and softly patted the pad in apology.
Then nearly jumped out of her seat as an AI dressed as a scantily clad Greek princess jumped up.
"Ah! Finally!" the figure breathed, stretching her arms into the air with a groan and giving her head a little shake, letting her golden curls fly. "Do you have any idea how claustrophobic that can be?"
Chris regained her senses quickly, still partially in mission mode.
"So I guess you're here to help with the mission?" she asked coolly, a little more peeved (if that was even possible, she thought) that she had gotten no warning that she would have an AI to deal with, one that seemed to even have a wry personality.
"Jeez, you don't have to be so rude!" She even seemed to be puckering her lips in a pout, which Christine did her best to ignore.
"Do you have anything to show me?" Better to just get any personality problems set aside and concentrate on her mission.
"And jumping right to the conclusion! Just like Liz." The AI tapped one long, polished fingernail against her lower lip.
"You know Liz?" Chris asked, her perked interest noticeable, unfortunately for Chris.
The AI hid her inner smile, delighted at finding a weakness of Chris's.
"I am Hera, a personal AI of Doctor Elizabeth Marrion, and your new personal hacker," she said, sweeping into a bow, making sure to let her hand float to the side, doing her best to look as aristocratic as possible.
"Save me the drama," Chris said, killing the urge to put her hand up to her temple. It never looked very professional. "Would you mind just telling me what you have for me?"
Hera crossed her arms and set a pout on her lips, making her appear like a four year old who didn't get the candy she wanted. "Fine. Business, business, business. No time for me." Chris just glared at Hera, playing the part of the annoyed parent perfectly.
The AI swept her hand in a graceful, if slightly irked, arc, and pages of type began to appear. Christine leaned forward, placing her elbow on the desk and her chin in her palm. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the data. Gradually, her eyes began to dip, then crinkle in confusion, and eventually, as she neared the bottom, slightly quiver as she realized she was reading the full mission report from the fiasco at this base before. And the facts sunk in for the first time.
Thirty-one of her teammates really were dead.
They had completely failed the mission.
ONI wanted them gone, and left the problem to Halsey.
The Eldar project was merely a test subject for a project of Halsey's, titled Spartan II. ONI didn't care at all about them.
So now the remaining forty Eldar were now abandoned on this godforsaken piece of rock.
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