Halo: Elysian Fields/Prologue

OCTOBER 2507 LUXOR SPACEPORT ERIDANUS II, 82 ERIDANUS SYSTEM If anyone passed by that particular door, all they would hear were the sounds of routine maintenance; the sounds of the janitors fixing a blown fuse in a control panel or working on a broken janitorial robot. However, the men behind that door were not performing routine maintenance; they were up to something far more sinister. In the dim light of the janitorial closet, Jack Earls carefully stripped the insulation off of several wires, and connected them to their connection ports. Behind him was his partner in crime, Wesley Sanderson. He was holding a confetti-maker for protection, carefully listening to the sounds of the crowd moving on the other side, hoping that no one was curious enough to question the seemingly strange sounds emanating from behind that door. “How much longer, Jack,” wondered Wesley. “About five minutes, man. If I screw this up, we won’t make it out of this death-trap alive.” “Roger that. I’ve seen a few people looking at the door; hopefully no one called the fuzz.” “No one’s going to call the fuzz, Wesley. Besides, we’ve bought out the fuzz; they’re in Watts’ back pocket for god’s sake!” “Yeah, that’s true –“ “So there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” “Guess not.” “Exactly.” Following that brief conversation, Jack continued on his work for about another three minutes, before finally releasing a satisfied chuckle, followed by an excited “yeah”. Jack added the finishing touches, and carefully placed the bomb inside of a large duffle bag. He collected his belongings, grabbed another bag that was similar in size, shape, and color, and left the small closet with Wesley. The duo was now wearing fine-tailored suits, carrying small briefcases with the things they would need after the bomb detonated, as well as the detonator for the bomb itself. Jack left the bathroom first, and after moving through several concourses, reached the terminal for the once-a-week shuttle flight to a remote world. After about five minutes, he realized that something was afoot – Wesley had not caught up, as per the plan. After waiting for another two minutes, the final call for boarding was made, and Jack grabbed his belongings. After moving through the airlock, he noticed something peculiar. The attendant who would normally be at the door was not there, and he was about to take a peek inside when he felt someone slam a very heavy weight on the back of his head. The man who did it was Corporal Lewis of the UNSC Navy’s Special Warfare Command. He had butted the insurrectionist with the butt of his rifle, and he watched with satisfaction as the man hit the ground with a thud. “Victor Two-Actual, this is Victor Two-Two Actual. We have secured the package; we are now en route to processing center, over?” “Victor Two-Two Actual, this is Victor-Two Actual, roger that. We have a special service planned four our guests.” *** When Jack came to, he noticed that he was aboard a ship… but this time, something was different. The room he was in was completely devoid of chairs, and it was clean - too clean. Not only that, but he was strapped down to what appeared to be a medical bed, and that his head was throbbing. After about ten seconds, three men entered the room. One wore a military dress uniform; his insignia identified him as a Lieutenant Commander. Another wore a white lab-coat, and the other was wearing sanitized olive-drab fatigues – there was no indication of his identity on his uniform. The realization hit him like a hammer to his chest. He was now a prisoner of his mortal enemy, the United Nations Space Command. He strained against the restraints, but despite his effort, he couldn’t see Wesley. “Looking for your friend,” questioned the Lieutenant Commander. “If you are, your efforts are in vain. He’s dead, and you will join him in the afterlife very soon if you do not tell us where the bomb is.” Jack’s head was throbbing, and the revelation that Wesley was dead had effectively shut down his ability to speak. “Oh, quiet today, are we?” Jack shook his head, but the officer apparently did not believe him – the officer nodded at the man in fatigues, and Jack felt the most excruciating pain of his life – the man in fatigues had slammed a baseball bat onto Jack’s outstretched right arm, breaking the elbow at the joint.