by Kelly Gay
I turn back to the Librarian. She is waiting for my decision.
“I have waited one hundred thousand years to find my friends. Why would I leave when I have found them?”
The Librarian’s mouth stretches and her eyes crinkle at the corners. She looks upon me with so much love and pride. She knows I will do the right thing. She trusts in me. May I also find the same trust in myself.
“We will meet again, old friend.”
“Yes. I know we will.”
CHAPTER 49
* * *
Niko and Ram returned from inspecting the circular platform with the bad news. “There’s nothing back there—just rock wall,” Ram said.
“We’re trapped,” Niko said as the hard light bridge suddenly flared to life and streamed across the divide. He ran to the terminal, but was afraid to touch anything. “How do I turn it off?”
The Spartans were preparing to cross the bridge, going slowly in formation. Rion silently cursed Spark for deserting them. That dread she’d been feeling earlier? Maybe she should have listened to her gut.
“Captain Forge! Lay down your weapons! Now!” the Big Guy called as he and his team eased their way across the bridge.
“What do we do?” Lessa asked.
“Well, what we’re not going to do is fire on a bunch of Spartans. Keep your weapons down and your hands in the air.” The fear she saw in their young eyes killed her.
“Well, I would say it was nice crewing with you,” Ram said, “but . . .”
They watched the Spartans advance, keeping very still, knowing that if they made the slightest move, they could be fired upon.
“How the hell did they find us?” Niko asked.
Lessa stared into the depths of the chasm. “I think I’d rather jump than be taken prisoner.”
“Don’t you even think about it,” Rion said. “We’ll find a way out. We always do.”
“Yeah, well, our luck might’ve just r—” Niko said.
A bright white flash filled the cavern.
The Spartans froze. Rion shielded her eyes, looking up along with everyone else.
The light filled the entire space and seemed to go right through her. She felt it, a low vibration easing through her skin and muscle and bone. Buzzing and energizing. Images filled her mind, too quick to capture and hold.
Melody and song. Memories. Words.
As the light faded, the room spun. Vertigo and emotion gripped her. She blinked hard, trying to ground herself, and noticing those around her were similarly affected. But there wasn’t time to figure out what the hell had just happened, because suddenly the hard light column behind them began to glow brighter. Particles of color ran through the light in small vertical lines, streaming like code, growing faster and brighter and more vivid until the pod inside shot like a bullet up through the column and disappeared.
Rion turned away from the sight, blinking her eyes back to normal, only to see the Spartans and special ops soldiers suddenly dropping to their knees and aiming their weapons, a multitude of voices shouting at them to stand down.
Stunned, Rion’s hands shot higher into the air. Her crew did the same.
“Hold your fire, Howlers! Do not fire!” the Big Guy yelled at the same time.
Heart racing and fear sliding down into her gut, Rion wasn’t sure what the hell was happening. They’d made no threatening overtures, and she had a hard time following the shouting and mixed commands from across the divide.
“Do not fire!” the Big Guy hollered again.
“Hands behind your head!” another shouted. “Get on your knees! Now!”
Rion linked her fingers behind her head, and as she went to bend her knees, she caught movement and glanced behind her. Understanding dawned.
The armiger was standing on the platform, holding a small metal object and carrying himself in battle stance, glowing a menacing, highly aggressive red.
Oh God.
“No—no, don’t shoot!” she yelled desperately at the Spartans. Jesus. They were right in the middle of what could very well be a massacre.
The crew looked frantic and scared, everyone with their hands behind their heads as the armiger took a few steps forward to stand in their midst, between Lessa and Niko. He crouched and let out a challenging roar. Goose bumps raced up Rion’s arms.
While he was ready to fight alongside them . . . to protect them . . . Spark had the worst timing of any being Rion had ever known, and he was about to get them all killed. Her fears were justified when he did something even worse to inflame an already explosive situation—he manifested a hard light rifle.
The special ops team ignored the Big Guy’s order and opened fire.
Rion was in a slow-motion nightmare. She grabbed the nearest person—Lessa—and threw her toward the terminal. As she turned around again, she saw Ram and Niko scrambling behind the terminal for cover. Rion dove for it, feeling a sting in her left bicep as a bullet tore through skin and muscle.
They huddled tightly behind the small bit of cover they had. “Everybody okay?” she shouted. Less and Niko were pale, their eyes wide as plates.
Ram gave her a nod. “We’re fine. Are you okay?” he asked, eyeing the blood spilling down her arm.
“Hurts like hell, but I’ve had worse. I’m good. Worry about it later.”
A flash of understanding and admiration crossed his features. He’d been there too, plenty of times in their line of work. He returned her nod, and then saw that his cigarette had fallen out of his pocket at the corner of the terminal. With a curse, he snaked his hand out to retrieve it, as several shots streamed overhead.
Rion glanced around the terminal and saw the armiger aiming his light rifle not at the Spartans, but up at the wide rocky overhang. Several shots made the entire overhang splinter and come tumbling down.
The soldiers retreated across the bridge before they were caught in the avalanche of rock that quickly covered the bridge.
The firefight was over.
Spark hadn’t been trying to kill them. If he’d wanted to, all he had to do was disengage the light bridge while it was still occupied. Now that it wasn’t, he accessed the terminal and deactivated the light bridge, the fallen rocks immediately tumbling into the chasm. He smashed the panel in an effort to prevent the bridge from being accessed again before walking around the terminal to face them.
His alloy steps echoed in the quiet. He stood above them and then bent down, red glowing eyes slowly shifting to blue.
“Follow me,” he said, holding out his hand.
At first, no one moved.
Then Lessa slapped her hand into his. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” He pulled her up and the rest followed. Once they were all standing, Spark ushered them onto the platform where the light column had been. The column was gone, but the platform was still glowing like one of the—
Translocation pad, Rion realized, right before they blinked out of existence.
And then reappeared outside in the thin air and barren landscape just beneath the summit of Mawenzi’s jagged peaks.
Sickness rolled through Rion’s gut as they stumbled, finding nearby boulders to hold on to, needing something solid to ground them. Lessa went behind one of the rocks and puked, while Niko sat down in the dirt, dazed. And Ram just stood there with Spark as if nothing had happened. Again.
“Can’t breathe,” Niko said.
“It’s the altitude,” Ram told him.
“It’s going to take us hours to get back to the ship,” Rion said. They were so high up, all she could see were clouds. She swallowed down her nausea, then checked her left bicep. A nice chunk of skin and muscle had been sliced in two. She was lucky it was just a flesh wound. It ached and burned, but it would heal.
“Whoa—you’re shot?” Niko’s brow arched high.
“Save your breath,” Rion told him. “I’m fine.”
“Less!” Niko scurried to his sister. He’d just noticed the blood trickling from a cut over her eyebrow.
“It’s fine,” she said, wiping her mouth. “Hit my damn head on the terminal.” She sat on a rock and he knelt in front of her, worry etched on his dirty face. Lessa waved his concern away, and then she glanced over at Spark. While he’d returned to his normal blue color, he was still armed, scanning the horizon for signs of danger. “You came back for us,” she said.
No one said anything. Yes, he’d returned and saved them all . . . but that didn’t negate the fact that he’d left in the first place, and nearly got them all killed.
It wouldn’t take long for the Spartans to escape the cavern, and Rion was pretty sure they’d called in reinforcements way before the ceiling even came crashing down. In fact, considering where they were, the entire mountain would be crawling with military anytime now.
She let out a long, frustrated breath. “Now what? How the hell are we going to get back to the ship without being spotted?”
“I can remotely access the ship,” Spark revealed. “It will come to you.”
“She,” Rion corrected.
Spark stared at her for a long time and Rion thought she might have to explain herself, but he just nodded and said, “She.”
“Uh, guys . . .” Niko was standing and looking across the clouds to three dark specks moving fast. “We’ve got drones incoming.”
The armiger quickly joined them and they were immediately engulfed in a translucent hard light dome just before the drones soared overhead and then made several passes around the summit. Rion held her weapon tightly, looking up through the haze of light and hoping they wouldn’t be caught.
In the quiet seconds that passed, her thoughts turned to her father.
No, not yet.
She couldn’t go there. Not until they were off this mountain and safe again.
The drones made one more pass before zipping down the slopes.
The dome dissipated. “We are undetected,” Spark announced.
“That comes in handy,” Niko quipped.
“We wouldn’t need his help right now if he hadn’t betrayed us,” Rion said.
“I did not betray you.”
She gave the armiger a hard stare.
“Very well. Yes. I did betray you. But I had my reasons. And then I changed my mind.”
She rolled her eyes, trying not to let the altitude get to her. “Lucky us.”
True to Spark’s word, the Ace of Spades arrived shortly after the drones disappeared, settling nearby on a craggy slope. The crew gathered and waited for the ramp to descend, the wind buffeting them as the thrusters’ force pushed against solid rock.
Rion watched Niko and Lessa board, followed by the armiger. Ram paused next to her, clapping her on her good shoulder, and giving her an understanding look. “One foot in front of the other, Forge.”
As soon as they were on board, the ship lifted off the mountainside without Rion’s input. It should’ve stirred something in her; she should’ve cared where they were going, but she felt nothing.
She headed to the locker room with the others. Taking a seat, she studied the crew. They were banged up, bruised, dirty, and looked completely exhausted. Niko shrugged out of his gear, then went to the med kit for antiseptic spray to treat the cut over Lessa’s eyebrow. He wiped it carefully and then applied a seal.
Ram ducked out of his rifle strap, placed the weapon on the floor, sat on the bench, and at long last lit his cigarette; he took a long drag and let his head rest against the wall, eyes closing.
“Rion.”
Niko was standing in front of her with the med kit, gesturing to her arm. She removed her gear slowly, starting to feel the pain and heat in her left arm, her muscles, and her bruised knuckles. Her shoulder injury from Binterall burned with pain. Everything hurt. Niko cleaned her wound and then sealed it.
“Thanks,” she said.
After storing their gear, he and Lessa retreated into the hold and up the steps.
Ram stayed put, enjoying his smoke.
As Rion left the locker room, she passed a systems panel. She could have checked it, to see if there was a destination, a road to anywhere, but it was clear that Spark would take them somewhere safe or dangerous or really wherever the hell he saw fit.
She was honestly too drained to care.
CHAPTER 50
* * *
Facility at Voi, Kenya, Africa, Earth
Annabelle was working with two groups of officers and a ground crew—one group trying to get into the comm tower, and the other through the blast doors in Hangar Two. Hangar One’s doors were still closed tight, but there was a Pelican-size hole in the side of the hangar where the AR team and Fireteam Apollo had blown their way out.
As Thea had been about to turn herself in for review, the AI had detected a strange signal coming from Kilimanjaro, a possible ship’s signature that identified as both Forerunner and human—it was like nothing she’d ever encountered before. She’d sent a quick message to Hollier seconds before the facility completely shut down.
Once Fireteam Apollo and the AR team were free from the hangar, and Annabelle had been informed of the signal, she’d ordered both teams to gear up and track it down, knowing it had to be the Ace of Spades and potentially 343 Guilty Spark—the coincidence was too great to ignore. If they could neutralize the monitor, his hold on the facility would be nullified, and whatever the hell he had planned would be cut short.
An hour had passed since both teams left the facility for Mount Kilimanjaro. There was no way to know their status until the blackout was lifted.
The teams were on their own.
Dr. Iqbal arrived with his own science team in tow. “Is it true?” he asked in a low voice for her ears only. “Is he here? Guilty Spark?”
“I believe so. He’s commandeered an armiger. . . .”
“Good Lord. Are you sure?”
Annabelle stepped away from the others as they continued trying to release the hangar lock. She glanced at the mountain. “They’re snowcapped Sentinels,” she murmured.
“What?”
“He’s looking for her, for the Librarian. Just like the stat bots predicted.”
As they stared at the mountain, a bright column of light streamed from the summit, shooting into the sky, and painting the clouds in a rainbow of colors as it went.
“What the hell was that?” Iqbal said.
Annabelle shook her head. Whatever was going on in that mountain, she prayed her team finally lived up to their reputations. She turned to the doctor. “What do you know about manual lock overrides?”
“Why?”
“We need to get into the comm tower to reestablish communications. And the techs with the know-how aren’t out here—”
“Which means they’re trapped below us,” Iqbal concluded.
“These doors aren’t budging. Come on,” Annabelle said, “let’s see what we can do about the comms.”
As they hurried toward the tower, the facility suddenly powered back up. Annabelle paused as the control tower’s lights flared and the ALS engaged, its strobes and light bars illuminating the tarmac and surrounding area to once again guide ships in for landing; simultaneously the hangar bay doors slid open. She winced as her comms unit blared in her ear, a dozen messages coming in all at once. Annabelle muted the device, took a deep breath, and then turned it back on to begin issuing orders. Her first priority was getting the facility back on track and then figuring out what damage had been done.
“Director Richards?”
“Ferg! Is that you?”
“Yes, I am . . . here.”
“What happened?”
“It appears we experienced a complex intrusion by an unclassified splinter. It cast a web through the system, cutting off commands, systems, and communications, and trapping my construct. It was . . . unsettling. . . .”
“Damage?”
He hesitated, which caught Annabelle off guard. She braced herself for the bad news. “I am not detecting any damage.”
“How can that be?”
�
�I’m running a complete diagnostic, but cursory inspection shows no internal damage to our network, framework, or operating systems. It didn’t escape, Director,” he admitted. “It retreated on its own. I can find no trace of it in our system. I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t worry about it, Ferg.” Damn it. That splinter had either left something behind or got whatever it wanted from them before retreating. And Ferg had been compromised.
“Shall I turn myself in for review? Thea is on standby.”
“Yes, please do. Thea?”
“I’m here, Director Richards.”
“Run another diagnostic. And get me an open comm line to the team.”
CHAPTER 51
* * *
Ace of Spades, Tanzania, Africa, Earth
Rion climbed the metal stairs, crossed the catwalk, and then ducked into the corridor leading to her quarters. Once inside, she sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts cloudy and her emotions spent.
Her personal space no longer felt like home; everything was different, and it wasn’t just because ONI had tossed the room. In her desk drawer were her father’s pictures, as well as Little Bit’s projections. All that trouble, all that risk, and for what?
He was gone.
She rubbed a hand down her face.
In her mind’s eye, she pictured the Spirit of Fire leaving the Forerunner shield world as it blew to pieces. Eleven thousand souls. Alive because of John Forge. And because of his sacrifice, humanity had survived the Covenant’s assault early on in the war.
An unsung hero.
A sacrifice lost, like the ship itself.
Tired, heartbroken, she lay back and closed her eyes.
Rion wasn’t sure how long she slept, but she could tell immediately that Ace was grounded. She grabbed clean clothes, showered, then headed for the lounge.
The crew wasn’t around, and she didn’t bother calling out. There was a rawness about her, a hypersensitivity, as though the tenuous thread she held on to would snap with the slightest provocation—a nod of sympathy, a pat on the back, a look of sadness . . . Anything might shatter the thin bubble of protection around her.