by Kelly Gay
“Hey, fellas,” Rion said, knowing the casual greeting would add to their annoyance, before turning her attention to a small metal desk placed outside the enormous vault door. Behind the desk, Tomn, a male Yonhet, was regarding her with a high degree of disdain.
While the Yonhet appeared to be the most humanoid of the alien species, they were also one of the most unapproachable and misunderstood. Rion had never seen a female, but the males were hairless with milky-pale skin, deep-set eyes with sagging skin beneath, and drooping mouths lined with short, sharp teeth. Their foreheads were wrinkled in deep folds, but their cheek and brow bones were sharp and prominent, their heads sporting strange pocks and markings. Each Yonhet had two sets of slit-like nostrils cut into a wide nose, and a series of gills along the jawline.
Tomn’s attitude aside, the Yonhet often projected a subservient air, but Rion had found them to use that to their advantage. They were very cunning, excellent traders, and had a knack for acquiring the most unique artifacts.
On the desk was a datapad and a neat row of sticky one-and-dones—small subgrade translation tech encircled by medical sticky tape. Peel the back off, place in front of an ear or over it, and voilà—a neat little device that fit most alien species and peeled off easily when no longer needed. Cheap and disposable, they were an effective tool to hand out at large events or to give to folks in the Outer Colonies who couldn’t afford even low-grade technology.
Tomn handed one to Rion. She removed the back and placed the coin-size piece on the skin in front of her ear. Inside the vault, Elld would be employing an ambient translator, which covered the entire space, but out here in the hallway where her own tech was jammed, these were necessary to communicate.
“Name?” the Yonhet asked, even though he knew exactly who she was.
“Rion Forge, same as last time.”
He ignored the sarcasm, checked his datapad, and then gave her a smirk. “Sorry, Tomn does not see Rion Forge on the list.”
“Maybe Tomn should inform Elld that Rion Forge is out here in the hallway with curiosity and credits to burn—lots and lots of credits. Or . . . don’t. But once Elld finds out Rion Forge was here, Elld might always wonder if a higher price could have been achieved. . . . So what’s on the auction block today anyway?”
Tomn’s nose wrinkled, and he let out a soft hiss to show his displeasure before accessing his datapad and typing in a quick message. A ding sounded a few seconds later. “Fine. Tomn sees your credit was last checked five months ago. Must run another before entry.”
“Of course.”
Due to Ace’s repairs, she’d had to pool all of her and Ram’s funds into one account in order to show her good status. Nerves spiking, she bit on her bottom lip, waiting. One more step to go, and then she’d be inside a locked vault with an Elite Sangheili warrior who wanted her dead. The question of sanity wasn’t lost on her, but then her grandfather always said self-preservation was a foreign concept to the Forge family.
“Rion is cleared to enter,” Tomn said, nodding to the guards, who stepped forward to receive her weapons. Once she’d handed over two loaded M6s, extra ammo, two knives, and a stun gun, the Sangheili swept her with a sensor as she peeled off the one-and-done and stuck it to Tomn’s desk, much to his ire.
Tomn stood, stepping past her to the entry pad mounted on the wall by the vault. Rion continued to watch him, leaning over slightly to see until he turned around and hissed at her again.
A series of metal locks echoed inside the door before the thick barrier slid back. Rion drew in a deep breath and went inside.
Here we go.
CHAPTER 3
* * *
UNSC Taurokado, 400 kilometers above Gao, Cordoba system
Walter Hahn was just finishing up a quick meal at his desk when Turkish, the holographic avatar of the ship’s smart AI, appeared over the small integrated projector in the desk’s surface unit.
“Agent Hahn.” The AI’s hands were clasped behind his back, posture ramrod straight. He wore the uniform of an early-nineteen-hundreds-era field soldier from the Ottoman Empire, complete with handlebar mustache and proper accent. “Pardon the interruption.”
Hahn wiped his mouth and refolded his napkin carefully. He always found it fascinating, the AIs he’d come across and the wide range of avatars they’d chosen to represent themselves. Was it indeed some lingering memory, some deep ancestral impression of the donor mind that went into shaping the AI’s choice, or was it completely a reflection of the new personality emerging and its need to set itself apart from its donor?
He was confident this one’s choice of avatar was the former.
“Yes, Turk?” he asked.
“My surveillance of Rion Forge has resulted in an alert, specifically in her financial activities. It seems a coded financial check was run through a highly encrypted credit system about an hour ago. I was able to break this code and unravel the encryption.”
“Could you trace the location?”
“The check was run from Komoya, a small moon orbiting the gas giant Vitalyevna, in the Sverdlovsk system. I’ve alerted Captain Karah and we are already prepping a slipspace jump to the system. We should arrive within the hour.”
As luck would have it, they were still in one of the systems along the Via Casilina Trade Route. The jump wouldn’t take too long. “Thank you, Turk. Would you please have Kip Silas sent to my office?”
“Certainly, Agent Hahn. He has now been alerted.”
Hahn watched the avatar disappear before relaxing back into his chair and letting the information sink in.
While he was surprised Captain Forge had evaded detection this long, he’d always known she’d eventually turn up.
Hahn had recruited Kip Silas to work undercover as an engineer on the Ace of Spades, Captain Forge’s salvage ship. While it was Kip’s job to monitor and report on any high-value discoveries and salvage, Forerunner artifacts were the real prize and the driving force behind Hahn’s directive. And they’d found more than Hahn could ever have hoped for.
And then it had all slipped through their fingers.
When news of losing the location of the debris field and a bona fide Forerunner AI had reached the highest levels of the Office of Naval Intelligence, Hahn had finally gotten the notice of his superiors. Not quite the way he’d envisioned it, but at least he was on Hugo Barton’s radar. And when he fixed things with ONI’s head of Forerunner research and acquisitions, Barton was sure to see Hahn’s potential.
Barton had ordered the heavy prowler Taurokado to retrieve Kip from Venezia and then pick up Hahn from his base on Gao. Once on board, they’d both been debriefed and new orders received.
Due to Hahn’s excellent track record across the Via Casilina as a counter-contraband agent specializing in Forerunner artifacts, adept at handling informants and acquiring salvaged Forerunner relics, he was given a second chance to secure the AI and the coordinates to the debris field.
At all costs.
A faint ding alerted him to a presence outside his office door. On his viewscreen, he could see Kip Silas standing in the corridor. “Enter,” he said.
Kip stepped inside, dressed in the nondescript black ONI uniform worn by the rest of the crew. Its crisp tailoring was completely lost amid the unkempt hair, red eyes, and unshaved jaw of the lackluster recruit.
Hahn let out a deep sigh. Kip would never be a true company man. His lingering moral compass and natural desire to see the good in people, like Rion Forge and her crew, would be the man’s downfall. Taking the ethical high ground and doing the right thing was a luxury ONI couldn’t afford, not when they were competing in the Forerunner arms race against a re-forming Covenant.
The sooner Kip fully adopted ONI’s views, the better.
CHAPTER 4
* * *
Vault 29864-C, HRB Flintlock, financial district, Komoya
Rion scanned the familiar vault. Floor-to-ceiling storage units of varying sizes, each with its own security keypad, lined th
e walls. Tall round tables had been arranged in the center of the vault, designed for bidders and their guests to stand at during bidding. The gathering was small this time around, which meant the item up for auction was something most in the black market business couldn’t afford. Four parties stood in attendance: Gek ‘Lhar and his two guards; two Jiralhanae—mercenaries, from the look of them; four Kig-Yar pirates; and two humans, most likely of the anti–Unified Earth Government ilk.
The humans gave her a nod of species recognition, which she returned as the heavy vault door closed behind her. Each individual echo of the locks sent fresh adrenaline pumping into her body. The guests seemed to eye her, one by one. First the humans, then the birdlike Kig-Yar, then the enormous hairy Brutes, and finally . . .
What had she been thinking?
Gek ‘Lhar turned his head in Rion’s direction and she held her breath.
And three, two, one . . .
His singular beady eye, seemingly too small and lost within that giant leathery gray head of his, snagged on her, and time froze. The scar over the other eye was deep and jagged and pale, adding to his already menacing appearance. Rion had envisioned this moment so many times during the last ten weeks, and wasn’t surprised when a hot wave of emotion surged to the surface, burning through her chest and stinging her eyes.
Regret rode right along with the rage and grief. For a decade, she and Cade had danced around each other, moving together, moving apart, too scared to commit, too afraid of getting hurt.
And now it was too late. He was gone.
And she was sick and tired of holding it all in.
Her mouth twisted into a smirk.
The utter lack of fear and respect was more than the Sangheili commander could bear. Rage shuddered through all two and a half meters of his body, multiplying exponentially as his claws flexed and a deep growl rumbled through his throat. Before she could blink, he shoved his guards aside and barged past the Brutes and the Kig-Yar, the humans darting out of the way before they were trampled.
There was nowhere to run. But Rion wouldn’t have fled even if there were a way out. She lifted her chin. Hooked ya, you goddamn roach.
His hand closed around her neck, the skin rough and cold, as he lifted her off the floor and held her at eye level. “Mistake, little vermin, coming here, taunting me. . . .” He squeezed slowly until her airway closed. His mandibles flexed as he hissed and leaned close with that blunt reptilian face, watching her die, enjoying the time it took.
Her heart hammered. Panic raced through her system.
Remember why you’re here. Trust the house.
Where the hell was the house?
Rion slapped at ‘Lhar’s cold scaly shoulder, then moved lower, her left hand gripping the data screen on his bracer. The attendees simply watched—no one was going to stop the Sangheili. In reality, no one cared. The Brutes were enjoying the show. The Jackals squawked. And the humans regarded the entire affair sadly, as though she were already lying dead on the floor.
Black dots floated in her vision.
Trust the house.
And then, finally, salvation. The telltale whine of lasers priming. She’d never loved a sound more. Chaotic shafts of red beamed over them, coalescing in fine points on Gek’s forehead and throat.
His grip eased a fraction.
“Come now, Commander ‘Lhar.” A raspy voice filled the quiet that had quickly descended. The Yonhet, Elld, stood behind Gek’s shoulder, hands tucked behind his back. “Elld understands this way of doing business is new to the commander, but Elld must insist rules be followed. Kill later if necessary, but not here. Unless Gek ‘Lhar himself is willing to die in order to kill this female?”
The Brutes chuckled deeply—a human female wasn’t worth the sacrifice.
Rion slapped at Gek’s hand and kicked wildly. House rules be damned at this point; she was about to pass out.
“Elld has given Commander a chance,” the Yonhet continued. “Don’t ruin it.”
Gek held Rion’s gaze for a drawn-out moment. “Once my business here is complete, I will end you,” he promised, but she barely heard the translated threat or cared because his claws snapped open and she dropped to the floor.
Blessed air flowed into her lungs, each desperate breath filled with pain as she landed hard, her legs giving out. But she’d made it. Unbelievably she’d made it. Laughter tore through her throat like glass. The room spun and her stomach clenched into a hard, sour knot.
The commander marched back across the room, muttering about taking orders from a species that had once been the Covenant’s slave labor. How that must chafe, Rion thought darkly, rubbing her sore throat. The fact that he was adhering to Elld’s rules meant he intended to win whatever was up for sale. He wouldn’t have come otherwise. And winning meant that Rion walked free while Gek had to stay behind and pony up the cost. By the time he was released from the vault, she’d be gone—with his luminary. And with new information from his bracer, thanks to Niko’s glove device.
It was the perfect setup.
Rion shoved a dark strand of hair out of her eye and looked up at Elld. The light in the vault cast a gray, sickly pall over his milky skin. He was nearly identical to Tomn, though the markings on his bald head were slightly different and his gills and jagged teeth were a bit longer, suggesting a more advanced age. He wore a tunic of dark-gray weave and a bemused expression on his face. “Credits to burn, Elld hears.” Then he walked away to begin the auction.
For a moment, Rion stayed on the floor, waiting for her vertigo to subside and the strength to return to her limbs. But as soon as a metal cart was rolled into the room, she pushed to her feet.
The cart held a viewscreen and a small metal box. Elld moved to its side with a remote in his hand.
“Inside this coded container are the access codes to a heavy excavator formerly in service to the Covenant. Some of you call it a Harvester.” On the viewscreen an image appeared of an enormous six-legged excavator. “As all can see from the time stamp, this is a real-time uplink.” The camera panned around the Harvester. “Elld does not have to express the power of such an item nor the value of one with its original Sbaolekgolo colony, and one that has a working plasma drill.”
The enormity of what was being offered sank in. The Kig-Yar began cackling excitedly as the humans whispered to themselves, and the Brutes looked eager to use the damn thing to shed as much blood as possible.
“The first such item to come onto market,” Elld continued. “Might very well be the last. Shall we begin the bidding?”
“You claim the drill works. Show me,” Gek demanded.
Elld gave him a serene nod, then spoke into a comm. “Activate the drill.”
A few seconds passed before the screen flashed bright, fading to reveal an intense yellow beam of superheated plasma shooting from the mouth of the excavator, melting a hole into the nearby rock.
An opening bid of twenty million credits from the Kig-Yar began the auction. Rion lifted her hand, having no intention of buying. “Twenty-five.”
As the bid increased around her, the pieces fell into place. Though they were used in battle, the Harvester’s primary function was as an excavator. For the last ten weeks, Gek and his crew had had the opportunity to poke around the debris field. He possessed the luminary, which allowed him to detect and track down other Forerunner artifacts. He must have found something very big hidden very deep within the debris. Something he couldn’t recover without the Harvester and its drill.
She glanced around the room. There wasn’t a single buyer in attendance with good intentions for this thing. Not one. Any one of them could glass an entire city with that machine.
With the bid now at thirty-five million in favor of Gek, the Kig-Yar were out, and so was Rion.
“Do I hear forty?” Elld inquired. “Forty? Forty million.”
“Forty million,” one of the Brutes piped up. The other humans immediately bowed out, leaving the Jiralhanae with the top bid.
; Elld gave the room a few more seconds before turning his attention to Gek. “Bid rests at forty million.” Gek didn’t respond, and for one brief moment Rion thought things were not going to pan out as she’d thought. “Very well, then. Going once at forty million . . . going twice—”
“Fifty million,” Gek announced in a deep, threatening tone, leveling a death stare at the Brutes.
Hell, was he trying to wage war?
Tension filled the room. The rage coming off the Brutes was palpable. Even Elld, with all his security protocols, looked a little paler than before. He swallowed and found his voice. “Fifty million to the Sangheili.”
Dead silence.
At Elld’s faint nod, mounted plasma guns dropped out of the ceiling—a little incentive to maintain order. “The bid stands at fifty million,” he said. “Fifty million. Going once . . . twice . . .” He gave a serene nod to ‘Lhar, “Sold, to the Sangheili commander, with Elld’s congratulations.”
The Brutes lit up the room with a volley of colorful curses as the vault door released. Rion was the first to leave, darting into the hallway to collect her weapons, then proceeding to get the hell out of the corridor, heart pounding, eager to regain comms contact with the crew.
As soon as she was back in the market proper, her tech came alive. She hit her comms. “I’m back on,” she said breathlessly, and waited for a reply. Nothing. “Guys?” she said, weaving through the shoppers. “Where the hell is my crew?”
Damn it.
“We’re here, Cap,” came Niko’s hasty reply, and Rion let out a sigh of relief. “Got the luminary. We’re almost to the shipyard.”
“Good. Gek won’t be tied up in details for long. I’ll meet you there.”