Point of Light

by Kelly Gay

  Once inside, we were ushered in this way—dirty, stinking, sore, and hungry after our long journey across the war-torn Halo, and terrified, pushed along with a constant wave of humans and infected Flood forms, gathered together, scanned, sorted, and eventually brought to bear.

  The Forerunners that had once lived here, worked here, and fought here were all dead or part of the infected herd. There was no one left to protect the humans on the ring, no one left to wrest control away from the traitorous contender-class AI, Mendicant Bias, and the imprisoned Primordial. We’d become chattel, fuel to feed the Captive’s enduring appetite for suffering.

  Unless we did something and killed the beast.

  Such ego I had!

  To even think it, that a young human might do what thousands upon thousands of others, more advanced and intelligent and strong, could not.

  The imprint of Forthencho, Lord of Admirals—the Didact’s worthiest opponent across countless battles during the war between the Forerunners and the humans—might have been whispering and urging me ever along, impressing upon me his need to win, to still fight a lost war… but I cannot blame him for my pride.

  Riser would say big boss men playing gods and games.

  Flesh and story all tangled up.

  Led over cliffs by devils.

  Not real.

  Not real.

  Leave us alone!

  Turbulent water fills my core until I am drowning. Gasping. Fighting against memories.

  A thousand centuries have passed, but to me, to Chakas, only a few years have transpired since I emerged from compartmentalization. The wounds still bleed. The treacheries still burn. The losses still torment.

  Water is my anchor. The way I envision my emotions and what is left of my humanity. Water is basic, fundamental. It is life. It is me. I use its memory to calm the turbulence and soothe the pain, a salve to cover unforgotten agony.

  Here in the belly of the wheel, not all my recollections are accounted for. Some of my time passed in deceit, my companions and I lulled into complacency, kept pliable and calm until we were needed, given false pictures, false environment, false sustenance… Nothing was real until my imprint of Forthencho was extracted through a hole in my back.

  Alas, pain is a great animator. It wakes you up, snaps you out of whatever daydream you find yourself in, and shoves you right back into a nightmare.

  I remember everything that came after.

  I will never forget.

  I will never forgive.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ace of Spades / Zeta Halo

  Lessa stepped onto the bridge carrying a tray with two piping-hot packaged meals. “Here, help me out.”

  Niko hurried from his console and carefully took one of the meals. “Noodles,” he noted with appreciation. “In tosac sauce?”

  “Of course. Careful when you open it, it’s hot.” She got comfy in her chair, selected music to listen to while they ate, then gathered a forkful of steaming rust-colored noodles. As she blew on her bite, she studied her brother. So far she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to tell him about the whole university idea. “How we looking on perimeter?”

  His cheeks full, eyes watering, he managed to say, “Looks quiet.”

  She sympathized. Tosac peppers might look unassuming with their thin corkscrew shape, but they delivered a blistering wallop to the tongue. The smoky-sweet aftertaste that followed, though, made it all worth it.

  As Lessa enjoyed her meal, her fear of revealing her university dreams got the better of her. She couldn’t do it, so she focused on Niko instead. She’d learned to listen to her gut, especially when it involved her family. Niko hadn’t been acting his usual self since their last day on Emerald Cove. And now he’d chosen to stay on the ship rather than explore one of the most technologically rich sites they’d ever visited? Something had changed. And she needed to know what.

  “I can’t believe we’re sitting inside a Halo.” She swiveled in her chair to face him. “Can you? I mean, we’re literally in the inner workings of a galactic weapon.”

  “Mmm. Tell me about it. It’s like we got a front-row seat to Spark’s history. Well, part of it, anyway.”

  The first time they’d heard the story of Chakas and 343 Guilty Spark, they’d been completely blindsided by the truth. She couldn’t speak for anyone else, but his revelations had taken some getting used to. Funny how time seemed to settle, though, and living and working with a being who’d lived through the ancient past had now become part of their usual grind. “Has to be hard for him… being here again, after all this time.”

  “No doubt.” Niko leaned forward to adjust the camera angles on Ace’s exterior.

  Usually Spark was a topic of great interest for her brother, but right now he seemed a million miles away. “You think it’s odd, the Librarian giving him a key to this place?” By her way of thinking, it seemed a tad insensitive.

  Niko took his time answering, polishing off the last of his meal and then depositing the recyclable dish in the refuse sorter. “Maybe she didn’t have a choice. Maybe she didn’t create the key specifically for him. Just my take, but that imprint could’ve been instructed to appear to anyone who activated it, you know? Like, to anyone who met some predetermined qualifications. And if they did, the key was given.”

  Lessa shrugged, unconvinced. “Still, it must be awful revisiting the place where you lost your body, your humanity, all your memories…” She wondered how Spark was taking it.

  “Just his body was lost on Zeta,” Niko said offhandedly, his attention on the screens. “He was taken to the Ark and stayed there awhile, recuperating and working for the Librarian. Then, later, when all the Halo rings were gathered and ready to disperse into final firing positions, that’s when he was named 343 Guilty Spark. That’s when his human memories were compartmentalized.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Niko looked up and gave her a deep frown. “Because I pay attention. Didn’t you listen when he was telling his stories?”

  “Of course I listened.” Apparently not everything had stuck the way it did with her brother. “It was a lot to take in. Anyway,” she said, “you might be right about the key. It didn’t spill its secret until I touched it; it didn’t work for Spark the whole time he had it.”

  “Probably programmed for Forerunners and humans.”

  “What are you doing?” He seemed preoccupied with whatever was on his panel.

  “Just scanning.”

  “For what?”

  “Nothing in particular. Aren’t you curious to see what’s out there?”

  She glanced at the different camera feeds displayed on the bridge and felt nothing but trepidation at the dark screens. “I’d rather get whatever that key unlocks and then get the hell out of here. Question is why aren’t you out there?”

  That made him pause, finally.

  She thought she might actually get an answer, but he seemed to shrug it off. “Is it Little Bit?”

  The way his face screwed up told her she was way off mark. “No. It’s been going good.”

  “Is it Spark, then?”

  That got his attention. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he doesn’t leave much room for us to do our jobs. I know you’ve noticed. He could run this entire ship without any of us.”

  Niko rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Just being honest. I’m not saying he should.”

  “We all have a job to do. He stays in his lane, we stay in ours. It’s fine. I’m not worried about it.” But the stiff set to his mouth and shoulders told her otherwise.

  “Okay… then what’s eating you?”

  “What’s eating you?” he shot back. “Jeez, Less. Give it a rest.”

  She knew better than to get riled up with petty stuff like this, but knowing and doing were two very different things, especially between siblings. If he wanted to throw it back at her, she’d give him something to gnaw on. “I’m thinking of leaving the ship, ac
tually.”

  “What…?”

  Now that the tables were turned, she instantly regretted the outburst. “Well, I’ve been finished with remote classes for a long time now. Been sort of mulling over enrolling in university…”

  His attention was suddenly on the panel in front of him. He could barely lift his head, and when he did, it was to give her a mild smile. “Huh. I think that’s a great idea.”

  His dismissal was like a sucker punch to the gut. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Hang on a second. I’m picking up some weird interference. I’m going to launch Michelle to see what’s out there.”

  Aggravated, she got up to toss her tray in the sorter. “Suppose you think that’s a great idea too.”

  But he was already heading off the bridge.

  She went back to her station, unsure of how she should take his attitude. He barely had a reaction to the possibility of her leaving.

  Determined to get answers, she checked his console panel, surprised to find there was no interference that she could see. That liar! Dumbfounded, she slid into his chair and started digging, pulling up the recent interactions on his panel. Michelle’s search parameters were already logged and included small-to-midsize starship wreckage—correction: it was the drone’s only parameter.

  What the hell?

  Digging a little deeper revealed recently viewed salvager forums listing current and upcoming sales on engine wreckage, slipspace capacitors, and the trading of wreck site coordinates.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  He never needed anything this big for a project. And he most definitely did not have any authority to launch Michelle and go hunting for parts in the middle of a mission.

  An alert pinged. It was the portside aft hatch opening to release the drone. Niko’s panel lit up with Michelle’s controls, ready for him when he returned. Quickly, she diminished his search history, attempting to cover her own tracks as best as she could.

  Niko returned to the bridge and slid into his console chair. With a few commands, Michelle was up and away from the ship. A former UNSC spy drone, Niko had acquired her early on in his salvaging career and improved her information-gathering specs, while adding an array of useful tech.

  The drone’s feed came up on one of the screens. Lessa walked to the main viewscreen to watch. Niko joined her using his datapad to sync controls. She had a sinking suspicion that whatever her brother had gotten involved in, it wasn’t good. It was the only explanation for his erratic behavior.

  She wanted so terribly to ask him what was going on, but she held her tongue and decided to table it until they were away from Zeta Halo. Hopefully it could wait until then.

  Just as she turned her attention to monitoring the camera feeds and sensors, a loud thud echoed through the hull. “What the hell was that?” She leaned over the tactical table and killed the music while Niko maneuvered one of Ace’s outboard cameras to get a look at the area.

  Another booming thud sounded overhead.

  Whatever was hitting the ship began multiplying in frequency like a slow, spitting rain. Ace’s sensors were now lighting up the bridge and screeching out warnings.

  Her eyes met Niko’s. She swallowed hard, her meal already turning sour in her stomach. More thuds echoed in quick succession. A shadowy streak passed one of the cameras. “We need Michelle back here now.”

  Then the downpour began.

  The entire ship shook as hundreds of impacts echoed throughout the bridge. Lessa used the table’s command pad to try to get sensor readings on what was out there. One thing she did find—whatever was slamming into the Ace of Spades wasn’t bouncing off; it was sticking to the hull.

  CHAPTER 13

  After clearing the tunnel and traversing a long pathway, our meager lights flash over the pillar indicated by my scans. By my calculations, its base as it passes through our pathway measures 275 square meters.

  Three vertical rows inset with numerous transport bays extend up the pillar. The bays are meant to hold a variety of small interior transport vessels and pods normally held in place by hard-light grips. With the lack of power many have fallen to the pathway—these we must navigate around—while others perch haphazardly on the floor of their compartments.

  My companions aim their lights over the area while I move to a terminal, which juts out from the base of the pillar. I must clear debris from the activation console in order to connect to the interface. Without power to this section, I cannot access it remotely. Therefore I must root out its defects manually. I begin with the power source.…

  Rion joins me at the terminal. “How’s it look?”

  “It appears the connection to the hard-light conduit has been completely severed just beyond this location, not only affecting this activation node, but everything we encountered after it. An easy repair, Captain.”

  “Hey, Forge, come look at this.” Ram is kneeling near a damaged monitor, its spherical carapace crushed on one side and its silver alloy flash burned to black. Its ocular lens is shattered, the pieces scattered across the floor.

  I will join him momentarily, once I complete rerouting and fusing the conduit’s hard-light optical filaments, of which there are hundreds—a process that would take a human many hours, but one that takes me mere minutes…

  Ah. Excellent!

  Welcome blue light flows up through the wall and into the terminal. I step back as it continues following along the angular conduit lines and up the pillar to the vertical rows and into each transport bay. With power restored, the bay’s hard-light grips activate and pull the existing pods back to their proper position. The entire area pulses with light and power. It runs through the pathway on which we stand and into the tunnel, and perhaps—barring any down-conduit damage—illuminating our way back to the ship.

  Rion and Ram have risen from their inspection to admire the great illumination.

  Power has been restored to most of the section and has created an even greater sense of largess and familiarity.

  Oddly, I find I preferred the darkness.

  “Is this Zeta’s monitor?” Rion asks as she crouches by the monitor, a piece of broken lens between her fingers.

  The lifeless carapace they have found creates an unsettling sensation I would rather ignore. I give a cursory inspection to the inert shell. The fate of its data core draws inevitable questions to the forefront—and I wonder where data, essences, imprints of monitors, go when they die. But I fear I already know the answer.

  “No, this is not 117649 Despondent Pyre. There were many executor constructs on the ring with subordinate functions. This is one of them. We must continue on.” I move back to the terminal.

  There, I link remotely and select a pod suitable for three to four occupants. The grips release and a smooth oval-shaped pod of pearly white slides easily out of its bay and then descends to my location. It stops to hover soundlessly less than half a meter above the pathway. My approach triggers the appearance of a door in the center of the pod. Without delay, I step into another familiar space with an interior bench that runs the shape of the pod and a ceiling of silvery yellow. Once, an ancilla would have offered food and water, but none appears.

  After my companions enter cautiously, the door disappears. “Please take a seat,” I tell them as I access the drive node with ease. The walls shift into translucence at my command; I do not prefer small spaces. I remain at the front of the pod while Rion and Ram sit across from each other.

  Our journey continues, and the quick and effortless rise brings a sudden curse from Ram’s lips. “A little warning next time!” he yells as we ascend five stories in seconds.

  “It’s not as bad as the translocation pads,” Rion says, amused this has affected him.

  On the appropriate level, the pod ceases its ascent and glides swiftly down another pathway for a half kilometer before entering a wide tunnel. Once we exit, a platform opens up. The pod comes to a stop. “We are here.”

  Ram exits, followed by Rio
n. This platform could easily contain a small city, and they are suitably impressed. “Just through that pathway, there,” I tell them, leading the way. “The pod will wait here for our return.”

  “You feel that?” Rion asks. “It’s getting warmer. The air’s different.”

  “We’re near the surface now,” Ram says.

  The change in humidity and temperature, the faintest of current where there was none before, is undeniable. It does not bode well. “The Cartographer is up ahead.”

  My goal has been to notice as little as possible in an effort to stave off the memories. But this place pulls on my core, drawing out memories I can no longer keep quiet.

  In an attempt to save the ring from colliding with the wolf-faced planet, waves of human, Forerunner, AI, and Flood-infected forms were ushered through this area by war sphinxes under the control of Mendicant Bias.

  I remember.

  We were gathered like cattle, inspected and parsed to control rooms all over the ring, where humans linked directly to infected Forerunners, sharing in their unsurpassed agony and pain. Shaping Sickness, the ancient human word for the Flood, was a name of truth, as it corrupted and reshaped its victims not only on the outside but internally as well.

  I remember.

  The memory of pain is etched into the walls of my framework, the sensations cascading over me as if it happened only yesterday. Pricked with darts and bonded by a strange lacy webbing, my infected partner and I linked directly to the Cartographer and through it to Halo itself. We were a mind of thousands, not simply using the controls to guide the ring to safety but becoming the controls, becoming Halo. In that joining was felt the immense energy and power of the ring—all-consuming, magnificent, and addicting.

  I REMEMBER.

  The extreme forces of the wolf-faced planet passing through our Halo were unimaginable. Sections of ring buckled and broke, wrenched apart, great chunks of earth and rock and mountain, metal and cable ripped away, and… then there was darkness. I did not see the outcome. I became lost, attached to the heady power of the ring.…