HOME | DD

Description
The Toa of the Earth.

Part 8: Truth.

"First thing's first," Derian quietly said to Peters, "We need to get out of here."
Peters nodded his head, unsure of how to escape without raising an alarm of some sort. Granted, it wasn't Fort Knox, but it was still guarded by military personnel.
"If you have any ideas, I'm listening."
"I thought I'd try smashing my way out, mix things up a little bit," the ebony Toa responded sarcastically.
Suddenly an idea struck Peters like a ton of bricks. It was a tried and true tradition, something he'd done himself many times.
"We start a fight."
The Toa turned to him with a skeptical look on his face.
"It's simple, you walk up to a Navy guy, or Army, but Navy works better, and say something bad about him, just to anger him. If you do it right and it comes to blows, that's when we make our escape. Just shift your appearance to someone else and we're in the clear."
"I'm not sure how to properly insult your water soldiers…"
"Just call them squids, stand back, and watch the fireworks. Don't question me; I've been doing this for years."
"If I must…"
And with that, the Toa now disguised as a Marine, stepped up to the nearest sailor, a Petty Officer 2nd class to be specific, and called him a squid to his face.
"WHAT did you just call me private?!?"
"You heard me, squid!"
"You listen to me private! I will NOT tolerate insubordination! Not from you, not from my sailors under me, not from anyone!"
"Well you're dealing with it now, squid."
"Enough!"
And so the first punch was thrown.
Derian successfully ducked under the punch, but was unprotected when the sailor's knee flew into his face. It should've been a bad move for the sailor, but he was wearing titanium biosteel alloy kneepads, and the impact jarred Derian to his steel bones. Now the base was in a mild chaos as order was attempting to be reasserted.
"Allright, break it up!"
The shout came from Crowley who pushed and shoved troops out of his way in order to get to the fight. But when he got there, there was only one combatant.
"Leave it to the Navy," he muttered irritably under his breath.
Naturally, the first thing he did was sweep the Petty Officer's legs out from under him and put an armored boot on his chest. There was a considerable rise in chatter from the crowd of warriors around him.
"Hey shut up!"
The shout seemed to echo through the jungle like a cannon.
"I get that we're all a little nervous here, I do! Aliens, psychotic traitors, and God only knows what's next! But that is NO reason to beat the tar out of each other! If I ever see it happen again without a darn good reason," he growled hauling the sailor off his back and throwing him back into the crowd, "I will put you in the brig until I can send you home and court-martial you for disorderly conduct. Do I make myself clear?"
Everyone around him, regardless of their grade or service branch shouted in one voice.
"YES SERGEANT."
Crowley, satisfied that he'd gotten through to them stalked back to the cells, the crowd parting like the red seas. He came to the door, entering the code and flinging the door open only to find it empty.
"PETERS!!!"

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

John Peters paused in his quick march to where Derian said the convoy was moving; he heard the shout from miles away.
"That man has the lungs of a DI."
Derian turned to him.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," he said, attempting to clear his thoughts.
He tripped over what appeared to be a loose vine on the jungle floor, the impact soft on the sandy earth. He sent a death-glare at the offending piece of foliage, only to discover that it was anything but. In fact, it was rubber, a tube. His eyes quickly followed the tube to its origin, a patrol jeep.
"Well, looks like our luck has changed." A smile almost creased his lips, almost. But all thoughts of smiling were thrown asunder when he saw the dead Army Ranger in the driving seat. It looked like he had been sliced in half in his seat by some sort of superheated blade. To say the least it was messy.
"Derian, move the dirt, make a hole big enough to accommodate a body."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I'm burying this soldier, make the hole."
Derian nodded and created a rough rectangle in the dirt a few feet deep. John bowed his head and picked up both halves of the dead soldier and set them inside of the tomb, doing his best to make the soldier look whole.
He knelt by the grave, and whispered a prayer, touching his hand to his temple, heart, and shoulders. He stood and turned to the bewildered Toa next to him.
"Fill the hole."
And so the earth was covered with Derian's abilities.
"There needs to be a marker. The man had a cross around his neck, I need some wood."
"What about that sword?"
John turned and saw a dead Bone Hunter with five or six bullet holes in its chest. The Ranger had gone down fighting. He picked up the sword of fire and swung viciously at a nearby small tree, cutting it down. He carved out two small rectangles and bound them together in a cross with a length of the rubber tube. He carved a bit more at the base of the marker, sharpening it into a steak, plunging in into the ground over the grave of the soldier. The man had no nametag on him, it had been burned off.
"Behold Derian, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier," he said with bitterness and regret in his voice.
"Rest in peace brother," and with that Peters strode into the jeep, ignoring the blood as best as he could.

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

It was at least an hour before the convoy of Bara-Magnians came into sight.
"Derian, how far are we from Tajun?"
"Only a few more Kio, three at the most."
"Kio? How far is that in miles?"
"I have no idea."
"Wait, why are they- Derian get your head down!"
Derian ducked his head just in time as a barrage of elemental energy bolts and bullets smashed through the already cracked and bloody windshield. Unfortunately, a sharpened icicle hit a tire, causing the jeep to fishtail and swerve into a tree. Derian's eyes darkened and he went out cold; John barely retained consciousness, only capable of thinking of how those idiots broke his shades. An iron grip latched onto his collar and threw him out onto the dirt, a small blood pool around his head. A boot kicked sharply into his stomach, rolling him over.
"Honey, I'm home," he laughed while holding his head.
"John, are you okay?"
He glowered at her jokingly.
"Woman, you have shattered my shades, how okay do you THINK I am?"
Catherine carefully helped him onto his feet, and then hit him in the face as hard as she could.
"Now what was that one for?"
"For leaving me again after three years of not knowing if you were alive or dead!"
"Sweetheart, I already apologized."
She frowned and grabbed the back of his head.
"Here we go," he breathed as he envisioned the amount of pain that could be inflicted on his already hurting body. But instead, the next thing that came was rather sweet. She was kissing him, if briefly.
"And that?"
"For coming back."
A hollow groan was heard from Derian's half-conscious form as he struggled to lift his head. Some Agori healers helped him out of the jeep and carried him into the convoy.
"Derian says we're about two or three, "Kio," out, any idea what that means?"
"Yes, about two miles."
"And you know that how?"
"I was here a few years before you were, I know the local slang."
John nodded and kept limping towards the center of the convoy. As much as he tried to mask it, he couldn't hide much from his wife, so the question naturally came.
"Are you okay John?"
He grunted his response, "I'm fine."
"Liar."
"You shot up my only jeep, I hit my head, and I'm a little unsteady because of it."
There was simply no use in trying to hide anything. But, she was smart enough to know when it was really just a flesh wound and nothing serious.
"John?"
"Yes?"
"There's a lot of blood on your back and hands."
He paused in his step, recalling the bloody seat and the dead soldier he buried with Derian.
"It's not mine. Leave it."
She nodded, understanding that a friendly had probably been killed. Despite his sometimes icy façade, he did have a heart, and it broke every time he saw someone die under him. Preventable, he would think, blame it on himself.
"Sup boss," came the youthful greeting from Jason Masterson as he strode up to the Lieutenants.
"Did I miss anything important Masterson?"
"Nope, just marching, nothing, and the occasional irritable jerk. Pretty slow morning."
"Morning? It's still dark out, what time is it?"
"0521."
He nodded his thanks and continued walking, noticing a certain Ga-Matoran clinging to a yellow Toa of stone. The sight seemed to amuse Catherine.
"I don't even want to know, Catherine."
She giggled under her breath.
"No, you probably don't."

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

About an hour later Aaron Davis jogged up to Peters, a pleased air about him.
"We've arrived sir, the village is in sight."
Peters nodded, causing his headache to flare up.
"Alright Sergeant, good to know, thank you. Send someone ahead to alert them that we're friendlies, I don't want my spare shades getting shattered by another shooter."
"Aye sir," Davis said running up to a Toa with a mask of speed. The Toa of Air took off like a rocket towards the village.
A few minutes later the convoy entered the village, giving medical attention to all the wounded. A water Agori approached Peters when he noticed the dried blood on his forehead, but had a lack of knowledge of human medical care, and was waved off after being assured that it was just a flesh wound. Shelter was next, of which there was hardly enough to accommodate an entire other village. Many slept outside, most were crammed into rooms with not enough cots, few had the comfort they really wanted, but in the situation, not much could be done and they all knew it.
"Lieutenant," Peters called to his wife, "Front and center."
She quickly walked to him with a quizzical look in her eyes.
"First order of business, I'm finding you a place to stay. I'll handle watch outside."
"No, we'll both find a place to stay or we'll both handle watch, John."
He raised an eyebrow at her. She noticed and rolled her eyes.
"John, we have not slept in the same bed since the last time we got leave four years ago. I've missed you. We can both need rest, you more than anyone else. Now let's go." With that, she grabbed his hand and walked to the closest hotel-ish thing they could see.
"I'm sorry, we only have two rooms left, reserved for important beings only, and I don't believe you qualify," the snobbish looking Agori said with a sniff of disdain.
Peters startled the thing by slamming his fist on the desk and coming within an inch of its face.
"Listen well, I won't repeat myself. My men have been through hell, I have been through hell. My wife here has been through hell. You put us in those rooms NOW or I swear I'll throw you across the room and take the keys myself. Clear?"
The Agori swallowed at the sudden show of aggression and cold fury on the human's face.
"He'll do it, too."
The Agori looked in shock to Derian, standing with his arms crossed in blatant support of Peters.
"Fine, but it isn't going to be free you know."
Peters drew the sword of heat he'd found earlier and set it on the desk.
"Will that cover it?"
It was much more ornate and expensive than Peters had originally thought with gemstones and onyx lining the hilt. The luminescent steel blade was rather polished, minus the blood of the Soldier. All in all, it was new and expensive, not to mention powered.
"Yes," the cyan Agori murmured, "This should fetch an excellent price… Here are your keys."
Peters nodded, genuinely grateful.
"Thank you."
He gestured to the Marines and Catherine to follow him.
"Gentlemen, you take one room, Lieutenant McClain will take the other. Be on your best behavior. Masterson I am looking at you."
"Hey Sarge," Masterson grinned elbowing Davis, "This'll be great! We're bunkmates now!"
"Kill me now," came the sour response.
"Enough chat, shut up and go to sleep."
"Yes sir," the Marines and Corpsman said unanimously.
John tried the key and opened the door in one stiff motion, ushering Catherine inside.
"Well, it's not our honeymoon suite, but it'll do."
And with that, he promptly collapsed on the bed, barely conscious.
"John, don't go to sleep in your gear, you'll cramp up," she said while setting down her armor and outer camouflage wear.
He sighed and did as she suggested, removing his armor, weapons, and ammunition, leaving only his camouflage pants and a black skinshirt, then lay down in the rather nice cot, again half asleep, almost not noticing Catherine crawling in next to him and placing her head on his chest. He opened one eye and picked up a pistol, putting it in a holster that he'd conveniently, "Forgotten," to remove.
"John, take off the holster and the gun."
"I'll need it if we're attacked."
"But we're not going to be attacked. We'll be fine. They don't know where we are. You're fine."
He huffed quietly and unstrapped the weapon, setting it down within arm's reach, just in case.
"I love you John."
"I love you too," he said giving her a brief kiss. She turned it into a longer one, which became an even longer one, eventually reaching for the hem of his shirt.
"Catherine, stop. I'm too tired, you should be too."
She pouted jokingly, "Fine, maybe later."
"Sure," he muttered with his eyes closed.
"Goodnight Catherine."
"Goodnight John."

Description
The Toa of the Earth.

Part 8: Truth.

"First thing's first," Derian quietly said to Peters, "We need to get out of here."
Peters nodded his head, unsure of how to escape without raising an alarm of some sort. Granted, it wasn't Fort Knox, but it was still guarded by military personnel.
"If you have any ideas, I'm listening."
"I thought I'd try smashing my way out, mix things up a little bit," the ebony Toa responded sarcastically.
Suddenly an idea struck Peters like a ton of bricks. It was a tried and true tradition, something he'd done himself many times.
"We start a fight."
The Toa turned to him with a skeptical look on his face.
"It's simple, you walk up to a Navy guy, or Army, but Navy works better, and say something bad about him, just to anger him. If you do it right and it comes to blows, that's when we make our escape. Just shift your appearance to someone else and we're in the clear."
"I'm not sure how to properly insult your water soldiers…"
"Just call them squids, stand back, and watch the fireworks. Don't question me; I've been doing this for years."
"If I must…"
And with that, the Toa now disguised as a Marine, stepped up to the nearest sailor, a Petty Officer 2nd class to be specific, and called him a squid to his face.
"WHAT did you just call me private?!?"
"You heard me, squid!"
"You listen to me private! I will NOT tolerate insubordination! Not from you, not from my sailors under me, not from anyone!"
"Well you're dealing with it now, squid."
"Enough!"
And so the first punch was thrown.
Derian successfully ducked under the punch, but was unprotected when the sailor's knee flew into his face. It should've been a bad move for the sailor, but he was wearing titanium biosteel alloy kneepads, and the impact jarred Derian to his steel bones. Now the base was in a mild chaos as order was attempting to be reasserted.
"Allright, break it up!"
The shout came from Crowley who pushed and shoved troops out of his way in order to get to the fight. But when he got there, there was only one combatant.
"Leave it to the Navy," he muttered irritably under his breath.
Naturally, the first thing he did was sweep the Petty Officer's legs out from under him and put an armored boot on his chest. There was a considerable rise in chatter from the crowd of warriors around him.
"Hey shut up!"
The shout seemed to echo through the jungle like a cannon.
"I get that we're all a little nervous here, I do! Aliens, psychotic traitors, and God only knows what's next! But that is NO reason to beat the tar out of each other! If I ever see it happen again without a darn good reason," he growled hauling the sailor off his back and throwing him back into the crowd, "I will put you in the brig until I can send you home and court-martial you for disorderly conduct. Do I make myself clear?"
Everyone around him, regardless of their grade or service branch shouted in one voice.
"YES SERGEANT."
Crowley, satisfied that he'd gotten through to them stalked back to the cells, the crowd parting like the red seas. He came to the door, entering the code and flinging the door open only to find it empty.
"PETERS!!!"

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

John Peters paused in his quick march to where Derian said the convoy was moving; he heard the shout from miles away.
"That man has the lungs of a DI."
Derian turned to him.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," he said, attempting to clear his thoughts.
He tripped over what appeared to be a loose vine on the jungle floor, the impact soft on the sandy earth. He sent a death-glare at the offending piece of foliage, only to discover that it was anything but. In fact, it was rubber, a tube. His eyes quickly followed the tube to its origin, a patrol jeep.
"Well, looks like our luck has changed." A smile almost creased his lips, almost. But all thoughts of smiling were thrown asunder when he saw the dead Army Ranger in the driving seat. It looked like he had been sliced in half in his seat by some sort of superheated blade. To say the least it was messy.
"Derian, move the dirt, make a hole big enough to accommodate a body."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I'm burying this soldier, make the hole."
Derian nodded and created a rough rectangle in the dirt a few feet deep. John bowed his head and picked up both halves of the dead soldier and set them inside of the tomb, doing his best to make the soldier look whole.
He knelt by the grave, and whispered a prayer, touching his hand to his temple, heart, and shoulders. He stood and turned to the bewildered Toa next to him.
"Fill the hole."
And so the earth was covered with Derian's abilities.
"There needs to be a marker. The man had a cross around his neck, I need some wood."
"What about that sword?"
John turned and saw a dead Bone Hunter with five or six bullet holes in its chest. The Ranger had gone down fighting. He picked up the sword of fire and swung viciously at a nearby small tree, cutting it down. He carved out two small rectangles and bound them together in a cross with a length of the rubber tube. He carved a bit more at the base of the marker, sharpening it into a steak, plunging in into the ground over the grave of the soldier. The man had no nametag on him, it had been burned off.
"Behold Derian, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier," he said with bitterness and regret in his voice.
"Rest in peace brother," and with that Peters strode into the jeep, ignoring the blood as best as he could.

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

It was at least an hour before the convoy of Bara-Magnians came into sight.
"Derian, how far are we from Tajun?"
"Only a few more Kio, three at the most."
"Kio? How far is that in miles?"
"I have no idea."
"Wait, why are they- Derian get your head down!"
Derian ducked his head just in time as a barrage of elemental energy bolts and bullets smashed through the already cracked and bloody windshield. Unfortunately, a sharpened icicle hit a tire, causing the jeep to fishtail and swerve into a tree. Derian's eyes darkened and he went out cold; John barely retained consciousness, only capable of thinking of how those idiots broke his shades. An iron grip latched onto his collar and threw him out onto the dirt, a small blood pool around his head. A boot kicked sharply into his stomach, rolling him over.
"Honey, I'm home," he laughed while holding his head.
"John, are you okay?"
He glowered at her jokingly.
"Woman, you have shattered my shades, how okay do you THINK I am?"
Catherine carefully helped him onto his feet, and then hit him in the face as hard as she could.
"Now what was that one for?"
"For leaving me again after three years of not knowing if you were alive or dead!"
"Sweetheart, I already apologized."
She frowned and grabbed the back of his head.
"Here we go," he breathed as he envisioned the amount of pain that could be inflicted on his already hurting body. But instead, the next thing that came was rather sweet. She was kissing him, if briefly.
"And that?"
"For coming back."
A hollow groan was heard from Derian's half-conscious form as he struggled to lift his head. Some Agori healers helped him out of the jeep and carried him into the convoy.
"Derian says we're about two or three, "Kio," out, any idea what that means?"
"Yes, about two miles."
"And you know that how?"
"I was here a few years before you were, I know the local slang."
John nodded and kept limping towards the center of the convoy. As much as he tried to mask it, he couldn't hide much from his wife, so the question naturally came.
"Are you okay John?"
He grunted his response, "I'm fine."
"Liar."
"You shot up my only jeep, I hit my head, and I'm a little unsteady because of it."
There was simply no use in trying to hide anything. But, she was smart enough to know when it was really just a flesh wound and nothing serious.
"John?"
"Yes?"
"There's a lot of blood on your back and hands."
He paused in his step, recalling the bloody seat and the dead soldier he buried with Derian.
"It's not mine. Leave it."
She nodded, understanding that a friendly had probably been killed. Despite his sometimes icy façade, he did have a heart, and it broke every time he saw someone die under him. Preventable, he would think, blame it on himself.
"Sup boss," came the youthful greeting from Jason Masterson as he strode up to the Lieutenants.
"Did I miss anything important Masterson?"
"Nope, just marching, nothing, and the occasional irritable jerk. Pretty slow morning."
"Morning? It's still dark out, what time is it?"
"0521."
He nodded his thanks and continued walking, noticing a certain Ga-Matoran clinging to a yellow Toa of stone. The sight seemed to amuse Catherine.
"I don't even want to know, Catherine."
She giggled under her breath.
"No, you probably don't."

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

About an hour later Aaron Davis jogged up to Peters, a pleased air about him.
"We've arrived sir, the village is in sight."
Peters nodded, causing his headache to flare up.
"Alright Sergeant, good to know, thank you. Send someone ahead to alert them that we're friendlies, I don't want my spare shades getting shattered by another shooter."
"Aye sir," Davis said running up to a Toa with a mask of speed. The Toa of Air took off like a rocket towards the village.
A few minutes later the convoy entered the village, giving medical attention to all the wounded. A water Agori approached Peters when he noticed the dried blood on his forehead, but had a lack of knowledge of human medical care, and was waved off after being assured that it was just a flesh wound. Shelter was next, of which there was hardly enough to accommodate an entire other village. Many slept outside, most were crammed into rooms with not enough cots, few had the comfort they really wanted, but in the situation, not much could be done and they all knew it.
"Lieutenant," Peters called to his wife, "Front and center."
She quickly walked to him with a quizzical look in her eyes.
"First order of business, I'm finding you a place to stay. I'll handle watch outside."
"No, we'll both find a place to stay or we'll both handle watch, John."
He raised an eyebrow at her. She noticed and rolled her eyes.
"John, we have not slept in the same bed since the last time we got leave four years ago. I've missed you. We can both need rest, you more than anyone else. Now let's go." With that, she grabbed his hand and walked to the closest hotel-ish thing they could see.
"I'm sorry, we only have two rooms left, reserved for important beings only, and I don't believe you qualify," the snobbish looking Agori said with a sniff of disdain.
Peters startled the thing by slamming his fist on the desk and coming within an inch of its face.
"Listen well, I won't repeat myself. My men have been through hell, I have been through hell. My wife here has been through hell. You put us in those rooms NOW or I swear I'll throw you across the room and take the keys myself. Clear?"
The Agori swallowed at the sudden show of aggression and cold fury on the human's face.
"He'll do it, too."
The Agori looked in shock to Derian, standing with his arms crossed in blatant support of Peters.
"Fine, but it isn't going to be free you know."
Peters drew the sword of heat he'd found earlier and set it on the desk.
"Will that cover it?"
It was much more ornate and expensive than Peters had originally thought with gemstones and onyx lining the hilt. The luminescent steel blade was rather polished, minus the blood of the Soldier. All in all, it was new and expensive, not to mention powered.
"Yes," the cyan Agori murmured, "This should fetch an excellent price… Here are your keys."
Peters nodded, genuinely grateful.
"Thank you."
He gestured to the Marines and Catherine to follow him.
"Gentlemen, you take one room, Lieutenant McClain will take the other. Be on your best behavior. Masterson I am looking at you."
"Hey Sarge," Masterson grinned elbowing Davis, "This'll be great! We're bunkmates now!"
"Kill me now," came the sour response.
"Enough chat, shut up and go to sleep."
"Yes sir," the Marines and Corpsman said unanimously.
John tried the key and opened the door in one stiff motion, ushering Catherine inside.
"Well, it's not our honeymoon suite, but it'll do."
And with that, he promptly collapsed on the bed, barely conscious.
"John, don't go to sleep in your gear, you'll cramp up," she said while setting down her armor and outer camouflage wear.
He sighed and did as she suggested, removing his armor, weapons, and ammunition, leaving only his camouflage pants and a black skinshirt, then lay down in the rather nice cot, again half asleep, almost not noticing Catherine crawling in next to him and placing her head on his chest. He opened one eye and picked up a pistol, putting it in a holster that he'd conveniently, "Forgotten," to remove.
"John, take off the holster and the gun."
"I'll need it if we're attacked."
"But we're not going to be attacked. We'll be fine. They don't know where we are. You're fine."
He huffed quietly and unstrapped the weapon, setting it down within arm's reach, just in case.
"I love you John."
"I love you too," he said giving her a brief kiss. She turned it into a longer one, which became an even longer one, eventually reaching for the hem of his shirt.
"Catherine, stop. I'm too tired, you should be too."
She pouted jokingly, "Fine, maybe later."
"Sure," he muttered with his eyes closed.
"Goodnight Catherine."
"Goodnight John."