Test of Faith - Chapter Two

Test of Faith - Chapter Two

Jezrael Desert

Pleione

Word of Blake Protectorate

22 March, 3075

 "Bring her," a female voice boomed over external speakers. The voice was cold and metallic from the speakers, but the sense of authority carried in the words somehow was not lost in the transmission. With those words, the Deva first, then the other omnis, turned and moved off, leaving Faith and the six-man battlearmor level II alone seemingly in the middle of the desert. She said nothing to them, and they said nothing in return. All they did was disarm her of her Python pistol, and then proceeded to wait.

     It seemed like an eternity waiting there alone amid the gently blowing sand. The battlearmor troopers kept an alert watch for any sign of trouble, but other than that, made no moves. The sound of the windswept sand was almost serene, punctuated only occasionally by the soft whirring of some component or other on the armored infantrymen who stood guard over her. She had started to let her mind relax slightly to the soft sounds, when suddenly, the telltale sound of a hovercraft could be heard approaching. A few seconds later, the craft came into view, kicking up clouds of sand as it stopped.

     Four infantrymen disembarked from the side hatch that swung open, and they quickly made their way over to where she was still kneeling in the sand. Two of the soldiers grabbed her by the arms and helped her up before leading her over to and then into the hovercraft. With all the unarmored infantry back aboard, the hovercraft sped away to wherever it was going.

     Faith didn't look up at any of the four guards in the vehicle. For an instant, her mind thought of escape, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Though this would undoubtedly be her best chance at escape in who knew how long, the odds of her overpowering the four troopers were depressingly small. No, there would be no quick escape. She was going to have to tough this one out, and hope that a chance for escape or rescue would come in it's own good time.

     She spent the rest of the trip in silence, and after several minutes, she could feel the vehicle coming to a stop once again. The guards ushered her out, and she found herself in some kind of vehicle loading and offloading bay. There were vehicles of all sorts, most returning, some damaged, and a small army of techs crawling over the place. Her captors led her through a maze of hallways and corridors, twice using a lift car, to the point that she had absolutely no sense of how large the facility was. Judging from the walls, which cosmetically displayed an air of Star League about them, she had to be in Fortress Thunder Rock, a Star League era facility that had survived and was the military hub of the desert world during it's days under Capellan rule, and now clearly also under Blakist rule as well.

     There were robed Word of Blake personnel everywhere, seeming to scurry this way and that. Finally, they reached a set of doors, which hissed open to reveal a small room with another set of doors on the opposing wall. Off to the left was a small desk, behind which a robed adept sat, while two guards in gray jumpsuits stood in front of her. The two infantrymen who had escorted her this far let go of her arms, passing her off to the new guards. These new guards, she could tell, weren't combat soldiers, but security personnel. One of the guards grabbed her forearm and led her the few steps to the desk, took her hand and pressed her thumb against a small sensor pad.

     Almost instantly, the holodisplay in front of the robed Blakist sitting behind the desk flashed to life with a flurry of files. She could see her picture, her CCAF ID photo from the look of it, and the header MCCARRON, FAITH ALEXANDRA, but couldn't read any more. It was only natural that the Blakists had a file on her, after all, they had been running the HPG networks in the Confederation for over almost two decades before the white-out. The amount of data they must have had on her just from that was probably enough, not even factoring in any work that their ROM agents had done.

     Whatever the desk clerk was doing, after a moment, he seemed satisfied and nodded to the guards. "Peace of Blake be with you, and may we reclaim all to the blessed Word." She felt like screaming some obscenities at him, but she knew it would do no good. No, here, she had to be a survivor. The guards led her through the second set of doors, which opened to a small enclosure, an almost airlock-like set up. One of the guards helped her out of her cooling vest, while the other unbuckled and removed her empty gunbelt. They gestured to a small ledge on one side of the small space, just about the right height to serve as a bench. "Take off your boots". She sat down on the ledge and proceeded to unlace her knee-length boots, realizing that this was the first time in quite a while that any of the Blakists had addressed her at all. She stood the boots up on the floor, then neatly tucked her socks, which she had removed as well, into them, then raised her gaze towards the guards, who gestured for her to stand up. She was now clad only in her black form-fitting leggings and matching athletic-type bra which were both made of a durable moisture wicking and heat transferring fabric, and her 4TCR tank top.

     They led her through the opposing set of doors, which hissed shut with a disturbing degree of finality behind them. The steel floor was cold beneath her now bare feet, almost comfortably so. They led her down a long corridor with more doors on the walls than she could count. It was at this point that she noticed the aesthetics had changed. Gone were the familiar Star League vibes, replaced with a sense of cold darkness.

     None of the doors were marked, and she had no idea what differentiated the door they stopped at from any other. The guard on her left hit a button on the panel next to the door, and the door opened with a slight hiss. The room they led her into seemed spacious, probably because there was only a single chair in the entirety of the room. So this is your Word of Blake torture chamber, she thought to herself. The guards led  her to the chair and sat her down in it. They quickly fastened restraints at her wrists and ankles which seemed to use some kind of magnetic locking system. Then, without saying a word, they left, and the door hissed shut behind them.

     She tried to take stock of her surroundings. The lighting was somewhat dim, but she could make out the four bare walls around her. The way that the light shone down from above her made it hard to see the ceiling, and the ferrocrete floor was barren except for a single drain that she was just able to see beneath her chair. All she could do was sit there and wait. It was annoying. She could feel her tension rising with the passing moments, like waiting in an empty room at a doctor's office for the doctor to come in.

     After what seemed like an eternity, she jumped, startled slightly as the door opened. The chair was situated facing away from the door, so she could not get a good look at the person entering at first. She heard the sound of the persons boots on the floor, before a robed figure walked around her and stopped a few meters in front of her. The woman pulled back the hood of her robe, and the lighting in the room seemed to increase a small amount. The woman standing in front of her seemed, at first glance, quite normal. Her Word of Blake styled robes were white, trimmed in a deep red that matched her hair, which was pulled back in a severe ponytail. She was striking, even beautiful, yet something about her was off. Her eyes glowed with an almost unnatural blue hue.

     "Faith McCarron", the woman paused almost unnaturally between saying Faith's name aloud. "Tell me, Faith, do you believe in coincidence? Are events guided by the blind hand of chance, or the steady hand of fate?" As she spoke, she blinked slowly, an almost unnatural, cat-like gesture. When her eyes opened, they shone a fiery shade of red.