It was not an Unggoy, nor was it the avian species that had attacked Evie and Victor in the woods. This looked more like a walking blue tank, armored and seemingly faceless and massive, towering over them like a behemoth. Glowing bolts jutted out of its arms in studs, and large blue spikes shot up from its back like quills. In the gaps between its armor were flashes of orange flesh, what looked like writhing worms.
For a breathless moment, Saskia thought that it hadn’t seen them, that it would just continue on its way without a glance in their direction. They were so small in comparison. But then it stopped, its bizarre head turning, a pair of inset bright green orbs locking on them.
Victor shouted and fired off a barrage of the needler’s crystals. They coursed like a swarm of glowing insects through the air before impaling just to the left of the creature, exploding the wall of the warehouse.
“Run!” screamed Saskia. She shoved Victor into an alley between two buildings just as the monster lifted its tremendous arm and released a stream of green heat from what seemed to be a weapon. The blast bored a hole into the alley like a blowtorch on paper. The air rippled against her skin, left it hot and itchy, but she was still able to run.
Behind her, the alley began to collapse.
Burning scraps of metal showered down over Saskia’s and Victor’s heads; she ducked and threw her hands up in a worthless shield as the detritus rained over her. Her skin stung with blisters of heat, with cuts from the metal. She straightened up, scanned the wreckage. “Victor!”
“Over here!” He was struggling to his feet. Soot streaked his face. He lifted his gaze, and his eyes widened. “Behind you!”
Saskia whirled around to find the enormous blue-armored creature barreling toward her. It was at least twice her height, and looking up at it this close made her dizzy. She tried to fire off a few rounds from her rifle, just as the monster lifted its other arm—which had an unnervingly large shield on it—slamming it against the ground and easily deflecting her attack.
She screamed. Turned. Ran. Pink crystal shards darted down the alley behind her as she cleared the smoldering alley. It was Victor, trying to buy her time by firing the needler.
“It’s not working!” he cried. “And we’re almost out of ammo!”
“It’s got a shield!”
“I can see that!”
She grabbed him and dragged him around the side of the warehouse. She knew that thing wasn’t going to stop until they were dead. Green light obliterated the corner of the building with frightening ease, a thick beam of energy swiping across the industrial structure. Through the gaping hole, Saskia could see the remains of a robotic assembly line—the once sleek parts melted and mangled together. It was trying to find them with its weapon.
She shoved Victor down to the ground just as the closest wall exploded into a mass of smoke and flames and a scent like burning poison. Saskia’s eyes watered and her throat ached and her skin stung. She rolled onto her back and fired off more worthless rounds from the rifle. Bullets shredded the smoking warehouse, what was left of it at least. The monster advanced toward them, plowing through the debris like it was tall grass.
“We have to run,” she gasped, pulling at Victor, who moaned. He was bleeding from a cut above his left eye, and half his face was a mask of brilliant red. “We have—”
A supercharge on the air. A gathering of green light around the thing’s arm cast dark shadows around her. This was it.
Saskia squeezed her eyes shut.
But instead of the searing blast that she expected, she heard what sounded like a violent head-on collision between two speeding vehicles. Her eyes flew open.
There was a humanlike soldier clad in dark blue armor, moving too fast to track. Saskia was not sure what it was—man or machine. Although it was significantly smaller, it had apparently barreled right into the Covenant monster at full speed, forcing the creature back before it could fire its weapon.
“Get clear!” the soldier shouted.
It was a man in that armor—a human being.
“Now!” he roared, as the Covenant monster launched itself at him with its shield. The armored soldier was thrown toward the adjacent warehouse like a rock, penetrating its steel wall with a shriek. Saskia wondered if there was any way a human could have survived a hit like that. Seemed doubtful. But at least the monster was preoccupied now—it charged through the wall after the soldier, and that meant she and Victor might escape after all. She wrapped her arm around Victor’s shoulder and dragged him away from the fight. He sputtered and craned his neck, trying to look backward.
“Was that a Spartan?” he gasped.
Saskia stumbled out into the street. The warehouse smoldered and smoked from a quick series of green blasts that poured out into the air behind them. Debris and smoke flooded the sky, and that toxic chemical scent hung heavy on the air. Saskia’s vision blurred. When she wiped at her eyes, they stung worse.
She was connecting the dots now. A Spartan—she’d heard of them before. Was it actually a Spartan, one of the UNSC’s rumored super-soldiers? The thought of one in such a backwater town as Brume-sur-Mer felt disconnected from reality. Some kind of surreal nightmare.
Behind them came the rattle of gunfire. The Spartan was somehow still alive, but the sound only made Saskia realize that her own weapon was gone. So was Victor’s needler. Stupid of them, coming out here, thinking they could fight. One explosion and they tossed their guns aside in the chaos. At least there didn’t seem to be any other Covenant around. At least not for the moment.
She and Victor stumbled across the road, over to the cover of the woods. Another explosion blasted through the air, and Saskia froze, her heart in her throat—but it was followed by a volley of rifle fire. The Spartan was still fighting.
“That thing doesn’t give up, does it?” Victor asked, his voice scratchy.
“The Spartan or that Covenant monster?” They had just crossed the tree line. Victor swayed against her, and she felt the hot wetness of his shirt, soaked through with his blood. She leaned him up against a coconut tree.
“Both,” he said.
“I’m going to let you go, all right? Can you stand?”
Victor nodded. His eyes were too bright in contrast with the blood smeared across his face. Saskia dug around in her pocket for the pack of MediGel she’d brought with her.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” she murmured, squeezing the gel onto her fingertip. “You think you can do that?”
“What about the Spartan?”
“The Spartan has his own problems.” The gunfire had stopped. Saskia didn’t know what that could mean. She pressed the gel to Victor’s wound, and he gasped, jerking away in pain. “Stop,” she said. “You’ve already lost a lot of blood.”
Something flickered out of the corner of her eye. She froze, hand still outstretched. “Don’t move,” she whispered.
“It’s fine,” Victor said. “It’s him.”
Saskia forced herself to look. Through a gap in the trees, she saw the armored soldier strolling toward them, sun gleaming off his dark blue armor, turning it silver. His face was hidden behind the polarized visor of his helmet, which reflected dots of light into Saskia’s eyes. She blinked, looked away. Dropped her hand.
“What are you kids doing out here?” The Spartan’s voice crackled from the speakers in his helmet. “Why aren’t you in the shelter with the other civilians?”
Saskia opened her mouth. She didn’t know how to start. “It’s a long story,” she finally said. “And my friend is hurt. And we need to get out of here before more of those things show up.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Hunters always work in pairs. Be glad you arrived when you did. There were two of them just a few minutes ago.”
Saskia shivered. She couldn’t imagine facing two of those things, much less killing them.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Was the Spartan looking at her? All she could see was the flat gray of his faceplate.
“Her house,” Victor c
roaked. “It’s safe there.”
The Spartan nodded. “Let’s go, then.”
“There are two others,” Saskia said. “Our—” She wasn’t sure what to call them. Friends didn’t quite feel right, but she went with it anyway. “Our friends. They were trying to talk to Salome, the town’s AI—”
“We’ll get them too.” The Spartan pushed past her, cradling a huge black rifle in both hands. “We need to move quickly.”
Saskia glanced back at the burning warehouses. The sky was black with smoke. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and pretend the world outside didn’t matter.
She wrapped her arm around Victor, led him back into the woods.
“Turn right,” Saskia rasped out, her breath strangled. “We’re almost there.”
“You’re fortunate the Covenant aren’t interested in this part of the woods,” the Spartan said. He’d walked in front of them the entire time, despite not knowing where they were going. Or maybe he did. Would the Spartans have a way of knowing about the town computers? “Otherwise all of you would be dead.”
Saskia and Victor glanced at each other. The MediGel had sealed Victor’s cut, although it looked dark and ugly beneath the blood. “Just lucky, I guess,” he said, and twisted up his mouth into a pained smile.
The Spartan didn’t say anything.
Saskia heard Dorian before she saw him: He shouted a string of profanity when the Spartan stepped out into the clearing.
“Those are our friends!” she shouted, darting over to the Spartan’s side. He had lifted his rifle.
“Saskia?” Evie jogged forward. “What’s going on?”
“You shouldn’t be out here,” the Spartan said. At least he wasn’t pointing the gun at them anymore.
“We weren’t able to get to the shelter entrance,” Saskia said. “We got attacked on the edge of town and”—she didn’t know what to call the Spartan—“he saved us.”
“Where’s Victor?” Evie asked, her eyes wide. “Is he okay?”
“I’m fine!” Victor stumbled out of the woods, one hand lifted in greeting. Evie gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth.
“I had some MediGel,” Saskia said quickly. “He just needs to clean up.”
“We don’t have time for this,” the Spartan said. “Where is your house?”
Dorian crept up to the rest of them, his gaze on the Spartan. “You sure we can trust him?” he asked, frowning.
“Of course,” Saskia said. “He’s with the UNSC. He saved our lives.”
The Spartan’s helmet turned. Saskia wondered what he saw when he looked at them.
“I don’t know,” Dorian grumbled. “They used to send those guys to root out rebel factions.”
“There haven’t been rebellions on Meridian since the twenties!” Evie said. She turned to the Spartan. “Sir—” She paused; he did not offer a name. “I’m sorry about Dorian. We really are grateful that you’re here. Maybe you can help us. We’re trying to free the town from the shelter—to evacuate them from the area. That’s why we’re out here.”
Saskia’s heart thudded. She wondered if a Spartan could even understand what it was to have a family. She wondered if he felt the way she did, knowing there was no one in the shelter waiting for him.
But needing to help anyway.
“It’s not safe to do that right now,” the Spartan said after a moment. “Your town is swarming with Covenant troops.”
Evie’s shoulders slumped.
“The safest place for your families is in the shelter. Now, we need to get to safety.” He turned his head toward Saskia, and she tried to imagine what his face looked like behind that blank faceplate. “Are you sure your house is secure?”
“I—yes?” She glanced over at Victor, who shrugged. “Yes,” she said, more firmly, squaring her shoulders. “I’m sure.”
The Spartan nodded. “Then let’s go.”
There was such a decisiveness to his voice that none of the others protested. Evie and Dorian fell into step alongside Saskia and Victor. They didn’t say anything as they trudged through the woods. The Spartan seemed to know where they were going. Saskia didn’t know if he was just following the path, or if his helmet feed had located her house. Or maybe he could just read her mind. People told all kinds of stories about the Spartans.
A storm moved in, crashing cymbals of thunder and jagged sparks of lightning that threw the forest into harsh silhouettes. Saskia huddled up into herself, shivering. She had gotten dry during the fight in town. Now the rainwater seemed to soak straight through to her bones.
To distract herself, she concentrated on the Spartan, trampling his way through the forest, shredding fern leaves and flowering vines with every step of his heavy, armored feet. He didn’t move as gracefully—as quietly—as she would have expected a super-soldier to move. He swung his body around heavily, a shower of broken branches following behind him.
“So much for stealthy,” muttered Dorian.
Evie shushed him. The Spartan either didn’t hear or didn’t care. Probably the latter.
They walked. The rain fell harder, although most of it was caught in the forest canopy. Saskia kept watching the Spartan, and she realized that part of the reason he was making so much noise was because he walked heavier on his right foot, dragging his left behind him slightly. She almost didn’t notice it because of his armor, which seemed to at least attempt to correct the imbalance. But after staring at him for thirty minutes, she was sure of what she saw.
He was limping.
He was injured.
She glanced at the others, wondered if they had noticed. Dorian had his head down, his hair falling into his face. Victor trudged along, staring out at the woods. Evie marched with grim determination, but she didn’t seem to be looking at the Spartan at all.
Saskia turned back to him. He was definitely limping, which wasn’t entirely shocking given the fight she saw. Not only that, but a patch of his armor was melted and twisted near his hip. She’d been so stunned by the sight of him she hadn’t noticed the damage. Had he been injured fighting that Covenant monster? It would not have surprised her. A pang of guilt spread through Saskia’s chest. Had he been injured because of them?
The woods began to clear, and Saskia’s house materialized up ahead, the onyx-colored walls glimmering in the rain. The Spartan stopped, his head tilted back.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said. “Where’d you get the specs for this? Doesn’t look civilian,” he said, casting an eye toward the turrets.
“My parents.” Saskia hesitated. The others were crowding around the gate, heads down against the rain. She looked up at the Spartan. “Are you hurt?”
He didn’t say anything, and Saskia wasn’t sure he would answer at all. Maybe she had overstepped some unspoken boundary here. Maybe Spartans weren’t allowed to acknowledge their injuries. Who knew what sort of training the UNSC put them through.
But then the Spartan said, “I got taken down by the Covenant on the way in. The suit took up most of the damage, but—” He shifted in his armor, a movement sort of like a shrug.
“You’re limping. And it looks like your armor is damaged.”
His head turned toward her. His faceplate was dotted with raindrops. She wished he would take off his helmet. “It was a close call.”
“Saskia?” Dorian called. “What are you waiting for?”
Saskia looked at the Spartan one last time, then jogged over to the gate and entered in the access code. The door materialized, and everyone stepped inside. The others ran up to the house, slamming in through the back door. But Saskia hung behind with the Spartan.
“I’ve got a medical kit,” she said. “UNSC-issued. I can help you. You’ll have to take that suit off, though.”
“No, that can’t happen. I wouldn’t be able to get it back on again without a mounting machine.”
Saskia took a deep breath. “Then maybe I can pry off the damaged part. Get in to treat you that way.”
The Spartan
stepped onto the porch and Saskia followed, grateful to be out of the rain. “Fine,” he said. “But we’re doing it out here. I don’t want the others to see.”
“Why not?”
“Bad for morale.” He sat down on the porch, leaning up against the wall of the house. His left leg jutted out oddly, and Saskia wondered just how badly hurt he was.
“This whole day has been bad for morale,” Saskia said.
The Spartan reached up and slid off his helmet. Saskia blinked in shock—he was young, his face unlined and boyish. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than she was. But he did not have the eyes of a teenager, and his left cheek was marked with an angry red scar.
“Let me get the kit,” she said.
He nodded, leaned his head against the house. Saskia ducked inside, went into the living room, and gathered up the medical kit from where she’d left it after treating Evie’s wounds. She didn’t see the others, although she heard water running through the pipes in the house. She trudged back outside. The Spartan had slid off the damaged panel of his armor, revealing the black bodysuit underneath. The armor panel was smeared with blood.
“I’m going to have cut this away,” Saskia said.
“That’s fine.” The Spartan looked out at the yard, where the rain pummeled the grass in an endless sheet of gray.
Saskia pulled on the fabric of his bodysuit. It was thick and crusty with blood. She snipped at it with the kit’s medical scissors and then peeled the suit away, revealing a startling patch of gray-black skin, mottled with purple and yellow. Saskia hissed through her teeth.
The Spartan laughed. “The armor took most of it. Lucky it didn’t completely melt.”
“No kidding.” Saskia fumbled around in the medical kit for the canister of biofoam. “This is going to hurt,” she said.
The Spartan glanced at the canister. “I’ve used it before.”
“Just wanted to warn you.”
She inserted the canister’s needle into the edge of the wound; the Spartan’s muscles tensed beneath her hands, but he didn’t make a sound. She pressed the release, and the foam bubbled under the skin. She spread some extra across the top of the wound itself.
Battle Born Page 10