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Confession
Posted By: Kyle Stegerwald<poltava_7@hotmail.com>
Date: 30 November 2004, 11:47 PM
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Confession Chapter 1
The cell was stone-cold and the metal bunk was unyielding- it was impossible to sleep. Peter sat up again and leaned up against the metal wall, feeling the soft thrumming of the ship's engines as it cruised along. He had been this way for days- ever since they threw him in this hole. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were crumpled and dirty, his muscles ached and his brain throbbed with pain.
But he knew it could, and most likely would, get worse. They still hadn't interrogated him yet. Perhaps this was the way they played the game, he mused. Maybe they use sleep deprivation before they interrogate you- just one more advantage they have.
In addition to having him locked up in here with an armed guard...
Speaking of which, Peter could now see him through the barred window in his door. The Marine wore combat armor, a battered-looking helmet, and an assault rifle. He most likely had a pistol and maybe a few grenades too. Peter looked at him through the bars and smiled. Peter could have smoked him with a single bullet from a thousand yards- but here he was helpless. Seeing him reminded him of old times- times that had ended- maybe for good- not so long ago.
The marine moved closer and looked down. He seemed to be fiddling with the door and Peter heard the clank of keys. He stood up, awaiting the handcuffs.
"Alright, rebel. Hands behind your back." The marine coolly aimed his assault rifle at Peter while two more Marines came into the cell and flanked him. One handcuffed him and the other grabbed his left arm and shoved him out of the cell. The other two took up positions in front of Peter and the trio marched him down the hallway of detention block C. The group passed at least twenty more cells before reaching the most beautiful vista Peter had ever seen. It was a hallway that ran along the side of the ship, and Peter looked out of its thick and broad windows to see a beautiful white planet. Peter's heart skipped a beat and he sighed in longing and regret as he saw the planet he had fought and might yet die for loom large in his vision. You better take it all in, thought Peter, this might be the last time you see it.
Peter's journey neared an end after an elevator ride up to deck thirteen. There, Peter surmised from all the security clearance, was the Office of Naval Intelligence deck. The marines marched him right into one of the first rooms they saw- a plain, rather spartan room with a single table and chair and a floodlight in the ceiling that bathed the dull gray walls in harsh light.
Ah, the interrogation, Peter mused, I've waited so long...
"You and I both know what is going to happen if you refuse to cooperate." The ONI officer was standing in front of him, arms folded, blue eyes staring straight at him.
"Yes." Peter curtly responded.
"We'll do one of two things." He started to pace around the room. "We'll either haul you into Reach, pack you on the nearest outbound prisoner transport, and ship you off to Lambda Four."
"The penal colony..." Peter said, averting his eyes from the officer and staring intently at the table in front of him.
"Not just any penal colony- there are no guards at this one. No fences, no cells, and certainly none of our type." The officer nearly smiled. He stopped pacing and leaned down on the table, arms spread wide and gripping the corners. His face was six inches away from Peter's. "Just you and every other hardened criminal in the galaxy. Not many patriots or politicals down there, my son. Just thugs. You wouldn't last a second." He walked away from the table, obviously pleased with himself. Peter laid his hands on the table and watched him as he continued.
"Or we can make a deal. If you tell us what we want to hear, provide us with information we can use, we'll let you off easy. Ten years exile in Lambda Six- the damn place is a health resort compared to Four. Nobody there but intellectuals, priests, politicals, etc. Even some filthy rebels like you. You'll be in good company- and you'll be safe." The interrogator leaned close to Peter once more and said softly, his eyelids raised and his face tense:
"So, what's it gonna be?"
Peter brought his hand up and made a clenched fist. Then he slowly and delicately extended his middle finger and placed it directly in front of the interrogator's face.
"So, you're going to be the punk, eh? There are many more like you we have on this ship. We can get rid of you easily and find someone else who will cooperate. You just squandered a very important chance, my friend!" The interrogator pushed a button and the door opened. The three marines walked in and dragged him from the chair and across the hallway to a heavy door marked 'Disposal'. The gauges next to it gave it away- it was an airlock.
"Say goodbye, you bastard." The marine that had summoned him from his cell opened the door with the pull of a lever and pushed Peter inside. The door slammed shut and Peter, for the first time in his life, faced death square in the face. It was the round heavy metal door in front of him- the door they would open into space- and his undoing. His knees began to shake and sweat beaded on his forehead as his mind raced in a thousand different directions- childhood memories, old friends, first love, they were all a blur- he had no time to say goodbye, no time to make his peace- just a few seconds to die. He turned around and saw the marines' faces presed against the glass as they witnessed his final moments-
And then the voice spoke.
"How about now, rebel? Does my offer sound better now?" the voice was that of the ONI interrogator, mocking and malicious. "I'll give you five seconds. If I don't see the thumbs-up in that time, say hello to outer space." Apparently there was a video camera in here too. This must be a pretty regular operation, Peter thought.
"Alright. Let him out." The ONI interrogator stood up from the microphone at the communications console and turned around to face his fellow officers.
"Did it work, or are you just being lenient?" Corporal James asked him.
"I'm not lenient with these people. He gave me the thumbs-up."
"He's a pansy. All the one's I've interrogated have given me the finger or swore at me." James grinned. "They're all in space now, of course."
"Of course." Intoned the interrogator as he strode from the room and back to the interrogation.
"Tell me everything, then. You've given in." The interrogator sat across from Peter now, leaning back in his metal chair and folding his arms across his chest.
"If you have the time." The interrogator laughed.
"I have all the time in the world."
"Fine, then. We'll start at the very beginning, on Orion four."
Beginnings
The alarm was blaring loud and clear as he woke up, eyes weighed down and mind still clouded with the fog of sweet slumber.
Damn it, he couldn't sleep in today.
So he reluctantly got up, got dressed, packed, and left his three-room apartment for a cozy café down the street. The sidewalk was nearly empty- it was five-thirty- and few cars drove past him as he trod through the growing light of the early dawn. The day would be a clear one- he couldn't see a cloud in the sky, though the high buildings blocked his view. Even though the sun would be shining, it would still be cold. It always was on this planet- even in the summer. The previous night's rain was evaporating, leaving small puddles here and there, and giving the air a fresh, sharp scent. He drew it all in.
It might be the last time.
The small café was on the corner of Thirteenth and Port streets, a low-key affair with wood trim on the bar, granite -two-seat tables and small, high chairs. His appointment knew the city well. Peter strode inside and instantly caught sight of the man he was to meet. He was sitting, leaning back in his chair, staring out the window and slowly sipping from a cup of coffee. The large window looked out onto the street and from there, Peter assumed, the man had been watching for him. It gave him a certain sneaky pride that the man hadn't seen him.
Peter calmly walked up and sat down across from him and said:
"Well, Sasha, it's good to meet you finally. I've heard such good things about you from my friend..." He hesitated, trying to remember the code-word he had been given. The man across from him stared directly in to Peters eyes, and Peter could feel him boring into his very soul...
"Jamie. My good friend Jamie." He said, finally, with satisfaction. The man across from him visibly relaxed, smiled, and extended his hand. Peter took it and they shook.
"Name's Sasha, as you well know. Good to meet you- is it Peter? That's what they told me."
"They were right. The name's Peter." The waitress walked up, interrupting the conversation, and Peter ordered a cup of coffee. Then he remembered that he hadn't eaten anything since last night, and he was about to go on a trip...
He ordered an omelet.
"So, what's your background?" Asked Sasha, removing his hood and at last revealing a handsome, youthful face with blond hair pulled back in a rough ponytail.
"Ex-military intelligence, I went to college and got a degree in computer science. Spent my entire five years out of college locked up in some damn office building breaking rebel codes all day and designing database and encoding software." He took off his coat and hung it on he chair behind him.
"But that's not all, is it?" his voice had a curious edge to it.
"Well, no- I did to a tour of duty aboard a UNSC cruiser."
"As a codebreaker?" Peter knew where this was leading.
"No, as an auxiliary."
"Well, hell of a jump there, from tech to soldier?."
"I had always been a good shot, and they made me a sniper when someone saw me on the firing range one day. And the auxiliaries aren't that demanding, as you well know. Mostly routine garrison duty."
"And then the tour ended?" Sasha seemed to know exactly what was coming.
"No. It was just getting started. We ran into some pirates- some rebels from a nearby world."
"What'd they do?"
"They boarded us, and we fought them tooth-and-nail for three days." Sasha's face tightened, his head dropped and he stared at his coffee in silent contemplation.
"How many?" he whispered.
"I had thirty-five confirmed kills. I was decorated." And with that he brought forth a small bronze star, as if it were a mark of shame or some horrible crime committed long ago.
"So, you have experience. Good. We'll need you." Sahsa rose up and pushed in his chair.
"Where are you going?"
Sasha just smiled, walked around the table to Peter, bent down and whispered in his ear:
"Four-thirty." And pressed a small scrap of paper in his hand. Peter sat and stared at it for a while after Sasha had disappeared down the street, then remembered what it was and hurriedly shoved it into his pocket.
Interlude
"Wait a damn minute- you were in the Army?"
"The auxiliaries, there more like a militia-" The interrogator shot him an exasperated glance.
"I know what the auxiliaries are, rebel. I commanded a battalion of them."
"Well, yes. I was a sniper for two years."
"And what about this fight onboard the cruiser?"
"It was tough. The rebels were desperate to obtain a heavy cruiser and some armaments- and they must have found out that we were loaded and heading their way."
"What do you mean 'loaded'?"
"We were carrying enough weapons, armor and artillery to adequately equip two marine divisions." The interrogator let out a low whistle.
"We wouldn't let them have it, though. They captured the bridge, all the crew quarters, most of engineering and nearly two-thirds of the ammunition. They tried to maneuver the damn thing down onto the planet, but we took control of engineering and shut down the engines. Then, the rebels brought up transports, unloaded all that they could, planted a nuclear mine, and left."
"Quite a story. The mine was defused, I assume?"
"Yes. I was the one that defused it."
To be continued
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