Victor’s car. Her ride into town.
Victor pressed his back against the collapsing sand dune, sucking in air, desperate to catch his breath. The round count on his rifle glowed a dull blue. Twenty-three. He fumbled around in his bag, found one other ammunition pack. One hundred twenty-three rounds total.
He had no idea if it would be enough.
The rifle was unique among Saskia’s parents’ cache. It had been designed with a barrel attachment that glowed orange and charged each armor-piercing round with some kind of explosive energy. The results were effective on vehicles, but even more devastating against Covenant infantry.
A Banshee screamed overhead, and Victor instinctively ducked his head, pressing himself into the sand. It fired green-tinged explosives onto the beach, the scent of melting sand wrapping tight around Victor’s throat. He risked peering around the side of the dune, through the web of glossy dune vines. The beach was crisscrossed with lines of glass. Farther down the shore, weapon fire rattled. Victor jerked his head back behind the dune and took a deep breath.
Get back out there, he told himself. They need your help.
He’d gotten separated from the others after they’d detonated the explosives. A squad of Unggoy had come spilling onto the stand, firing their needlers and screeching in the Covenant’s language. Owen had shouted for them to split up, and he and Dorian had taken off in opposite directions. Victor had fired blindly on the Unggoy as he ran, half in panic and half in anger. It wasn’t until he’d gotten away from them that he’d realized how much ammunition he’d wasted.
A familiar whine cut through the air again. The Banshees were coming back. Their lights gleamed low in the sky. A trail of plasma bolts hit the dunes up ahead, igniting them in smoke and ash. Victor scrambled to his feet and ran out into the open beach, jumping over the molten, glassy pathways left by the last Banshee attack. He peered through his rifle, keeping his scope ahead of the Banshee as it roared down over the dunes. Just like Owen had showed him.
Fired.
The Banshee jerked; its right side glowed an angry blue, like the hottest part of a flame. It veered off to the left, screaming in circles over the dunes. Victor didn’t wait to see it crash. He took off running toward the firefight happening at the far end of the beach. Plasma light streaked through the misty air. Dark lumps lay on the sand.
He dove back into the dunes and headed toward the sound of weapon fire, skittering and slipping over the wet sand. Covenant voices grew louder. So did the plasma blasts. But he kept his head low, moving in the way his sisters had shown him, on this same beach, in these same dunes. This was his home. He knew it better than any of the Unggoy firing on his friends.
Eventually, he saw the disturbances in the sand that meant Dorian and Owen had been there already. He jumped through the indentations, clutching his gun tight, keeping his head low. The plasma fire wasn’t hitting the dunes. Which meant they didn’t know he was there.
Eventually, the footsteps veered away from the dunes, toward the beach proper. Victor peered out at the open.
It was impossible to make out anything in the chaos. Smoke and rain billowed across the sand, smudging the Covenant soldiers into shadows. The plasma fire looked like lightning.
A scatter of gunfire erupted out of the smoke, shimmering like stars. Owen’s imposing form followed. He fired onto the Unggoy, blasting them backward over the beach. A few seconds later, Dorian appeared, flashes of light erupting from his rifle.
Victor looked through the sight of his rifle and targeted the Unggoy racing toward Owen and Dorian. He squeezed the trigger, sending a trio of shots sailing over the beach. Immediately the Unggoy turned their weapons onto the dunes, and Victor leapt backward and crawled deeper into them. He yanked the new round out of the bag and clicked it into place.
Then he ran straight for the beach.
He had guessed right. Owen and Dorian were only a few paces away.
“Nice work!” Dorian shouted as Victor swung around to flank Owen with the needler in his hands.
“Agreed,” Owen said, his voice deceptively calm. “Good job.”
The Spartan had been using the railgun, apparently with some efficiency based on the debris field of Covenant armor that covered the beach in front of them. A Jackal with a spherical shield on its arm suddenly darted from behind one of the dunes. Owen stepped away from the dune and immediately tracked the enemy with his weapon, its barrel charging in a coil of energy before firing. The blast and impact were almost instantaneous, and what remained of the Jackal was sent reeling across the beach and into the waves. Then another wave of Covenant appeared around the berm.
All three opened fire again. The Unggoy swirled around in confusion, some of them firing at the dune, others returning their attention to the three of them. One round came extremely close, and Dorian grabbed Victor and dragged him behind Owen.
“He can take the plasma fire, man!” Dorian screamed in Victor’s ear.
Owen strolled forward, still firing, as calmly as if it were an ordinary day at the beach. Victor and Dorian huddled behind him, firing off shots when they could.
A telltale whine filled the air.
“Banshee!” Victor shouted.
Just one Banshee this time, the one he hadn’t shot. It sailed overhead, wheeling back around for a better shot. It had no doubt spotted them. Owen tilted up his railgun and led the target for a few seconds. Then the weapon heated in coils around its barrel and fired in a burst of white light.
The Banshee exploded. Heat and debris rained down on them.
The Unggoy screamed and hurled something toward the Spartan.
Everything went white with a deafening sound.
And then Owen flew backward.
At first, Victor couldn’t place what happened. He’d been crouched in the sand, protecting his head from the burning Banshee, when suddenly he was exposed. No one stood between him and the Unggoy.
“Owen!” Dorian screamed.
Victor fired on the Unggoy. At least two of them collapsed. His round counter blinked. Thirty-five remaining.
“Damn. Victor! Owen’s hurt.”
It didn’t make any sense. How could Owen be hurt? But of course he’d been hurt this entire time. His suit had been damaged.
Victor kept firing into the Unggoy, beating them back. Black smoke billowed across the beach. He whirled around. Dorian was kneeling beside Owen, his hand pressed to Owen’s side. His fingers were smeared red.
“He’s hurt,” Dorian said, a vague disbelief in his voice.
Victor’s thoughts rattled. For a moment, he was back on the beach during happier times. It was bright and hot and there was no smoke. Camila showed him how to hold a gun. Told him how she never left a fellow soldier behind.
“Get him to safety,” Victor shouted.
“He’s too heavy!”
The Unggoy had stopped firing. Victor didn’t think that could possibly be a good sign. Still, he knew he needed to save his ammunition, and so he scrambled over to Owen’s side. He pressed the polarization button on the side of Owen’s helmet, and the visor flickered away. Owen blinked at him, his eyes bleary and unfocused.
“Grenade,” he said. “Armor’s compromised.”
Victor looped his arm through Owen’s. Dorian nodded and did the same.
“One. Two. Three.” Victor heaved, his muscles screaming in protest. Owen groaned in pain. He didn’t move at all across the sand.
“It’s pointless,” Dorian gasped, collapsing backward. “He’s too heavy.”
“Just leave me,” Owen rasped. “Get back to the ship.”
“No!” Victor shouted.
“Look at me,” Dorian said, his voice almost a snarl. “I’m not leaving anybody else behind.”
Owen smiled a little. There was blood on his teeth.
“Trained you too well,” he said jaggedly.
The beach lit up with a brilliant streak of white light. A fireball plumed out of the sand. The entire world shuddered.
Tall, muscular figures emerged from the smoke. They were clearly the leaders and heavily armed.
“Damn,” Dorian said.
Sangheili. An entire squad of them, marching row by row.
“Run!” Owen shouted. “Run! Now!”
“No!” Dorian screamed.
Victor lifted his rifle and fired into the rows of Sangheili until his counter clicked to zero. Then he grabbed a needler from one of the fallen Unggoy and held the trigger down until the weapon was empty. The Sangheili lines broke up, but most continued toward them.
“Leave me!” Owen screamed, flecks of blood scattering across his helmet. “That’s an order!”
“I’m not in the UNSC!” Dorian screamed back.
And then a flickering light arced over their heads, slamming into the Sangheili’s front line. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. Then the light exploded and a handful of Sangheili toppled backward, the sand burning white-hot.
Victor scrambled to his feet, whirled around.
His car was barreling toward him across the sand. The driver’s window was opened and out of it pointed a one-handed weapon—Saskia’s sticky detonator.
“Evie!” he screamed. “Evie’s here!”
Plasma fire flickered around them on the dune, sparse and erratic. The remaining Unggoy were still approaching with those Sangheili who hadn’t gotten caught in the explosion from Evie’s weapon.
The car screeched to a stop, kicking a wall of sand over Victor and Owen and Dorian. Victor sputtered, wiped the sand from his face.
“Get in!” Evie shouted. “The detonator needs to be reloaded!” It was sitting in the passenger seat, a pile of other charges beside it.
“Owen’s hurt,” Victor shouted. “We can’t move him.”
Evie’s eyes went wide. “He can’t even stand?”
Victor whipped around and knelt beside Owen. “You’ve got to get up,” he said. “Dorian’s right. We’re not leaving you.”
“Yeah, just get in the damn car.” Dorian reached over and flung open the back door. Immediately it was struck with a plasma bolt and went flying backward five meters over the sand.
“My car!” Victor yelped without thinking.
Dorian wrapped one of Owen’s arms around his shoulder. Nodded at Victor, who did the same, the shock of his missing door fading.
“Hurry!” Evie screamed. “They’re coming!”
Victor didn’t look back. He focused all his strength on pushing up. “Come on, man!” he yelled. “You know we can’t do this without your help!”
This time, Owen moved. He howled in pain, and blood spilled across the sand. But he moved, his legs trembling. With a shout, Dorian and Victor pushed him into the car, which rocked sideways on its wheels.
Evie stuck the sticky detonator back out the driver’s side window.
Another round streamed across the beach, landing in a patch of sand at the heart of the encroaching Covenant soldiers.
A massive fireball plumed up from the sand.
Victor scrambled into the back seat, and Dorian slammed the car into gear, throwing up more sand. Hard wind blew in through the gap of the missing door. Evie whipped the car around, drawing it close to the rushing water of the shore.
Then they were off, plasma fire following thinly in their wake.
Turn right!” Dorian shouted. “Right!”
The car rocked back and forth as Evie jerked the wheel to the left, then to the right, sending them careening down a muddy dirt road.
“You sure you know where you’re going?” Evie said.
“I told you,” Dorian said. “Uncle Max and I drove everywhere. I’m getting us as close I can.”
He twisted around in the front seat. Owen was still splayed out in the back, hand clamped down on his side, blood gleaming on his armor. Victor crouched over his legs.
“How’s he doing?” Dorian asked.
“He keeps passing out.” Victor’s eyes were wide with fear. “Can Spartans even pass out?”
“If they get hit square in the side with a plasma grenade, they can.” Dorian turned back around. He couldn’t stand to look at Owen. Yelling at them to just leave him behind on the beach—what the hell? After everything he’d said about being a team?
No. Dorian was done leaving people behind.
The car shuddered. Mud splattered up against the windshield.
“Put it in third!” screeched Victor.
“Your car’s done for,” Dorian shouted back.
“It’ll get us through the mud, dumbass.”
“Shut up, both of you.” Evie slammed her palm against the control panel. The car jerked forward, tires squealing. Dorian almost slammed his head on the dash.
“Okay,” he said. “Next road you see, turn left. That should get us there.”
Evie nodded. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel her knuckles had turned white.
“The Covenant had found them,” she murmured. “There were soldiers—Sangheili—Elites—”
She’d told him this already. She’d told him this about five times, murmuring it like a prayer.
“I know,” he said. “But they’ve got Saskia to take care of them. And we’re almost there.”
Tree branches slapped at the car, leaving wet streaks across the windshield. Rocks pinged against the undercarriage. Dorian peered out the window. This road would dead-end in the middle of the woods, and he was almost certain that the hangar was just a few meters from where the road ended. It would explain how he and Uncle Max had ridden all over the forest and never seen it. Probably the Sundered Legion had blocked the road at some point, sealing off that hangar and the ship from Brume-sur-Mer’s collective memory.
The car hit a ditch in the road and slammed upward, along with all its passengers. Owen roared, an armored fist hitting the back windshield. The glass shattered.
“Sorry!” Evie said.
Trees blocked the path up ahead. “There,” Dorian said. “The hangar should be just through there.” He glanced back at Owen, who was clutching at his side, his face contorted in pain. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to walk again.”
“Great.” Owen clenched his teeth.
The car slowed. Evie pulled up right to the trees but left the engine idling. “Are you sure this is it?”
Dorian climbed out. The area was thick with underbrush, and the forest was filled with the sound of rain. He hacked at the brush with his rifle, beating it down, trying to clear a path. The hangar had to be on the other side. He had checked and double-checked the maps before they left. He had been so sure—
Then he heard it, over the rain. Voices. Human voices. He slapped away a low-hanging branch and revealed the clearing, the hangar, and a knot of ragged refugees crowding up to the ship.
“We’re here!” he shouted, running back to the car. Evie and Victor had already helped pull Owen out of the car, and he leaned unsteadily against Evie. She strained against him, looking as if she were about to sink into the soil. Dorian rushed over to them, slipped into her place. “Here,” he said, “let me.” He nodded toward the trees. “We’ve just got to get through there. You can do it.”
Owen nodded. Together, the three of them hobbled toward the path Dorian had cleared. Dorian’s chest burned with a brilliant exhilaration—We can do this. We’re almost there.
Then the screaming started.
Owen stiffened against Dorian’s grip, and he nearly fell under the Spartan’s weight. Shots rang out. Dorian caught the familiar, toxic whiff of plasma fire.
Evie pulled out her plasma pistol, looked over her shoulder at them. “I’m going to help,” she said. “Get him through as fast as you can.” She vanished through the trees.
“You can still leave me,” Owen said, gasping between each word.
Dorian stared straight ahead, at the flicker of panic through the trees. “I told you,” he said. “I’m not doing that again.”
They lurched forward. Some of Owen’s weight eas
ed off Dorian. “My rifle,” he gasped. “One of you—”
“Victor,” Dorian said. “You’re the marksman.”
“Got it.” Victor let go of Owen, who managed to stay standing. He pulled the rifle off of Owen’s back and ran forward into the clearing, releasing a stream of cover fire. Owen and Dorian followed.
A group of Jackals were shooting at the crowd from the far woods, kept back by Victor, Evie, and a handful of townspeople, who fired off shots from the hangar. A few bodies lay in the grass—Covenant bodies, Dorian saw. But he and Owen were going to have to run straight through the cross fire to get to the ship.
“Get on my other side,” Owen said.
“Really?” Dorian shrieked. “You think that’s going to be good enough?”
“They need you,” Owen said. “To fly them out of here. I’m going to get you to them.” He took a deep breath. “Make yourself small.”
“Great advice.”
The Covenant and the people of Brume-sur-Mer traded fire. Bullets and plasma bolts zipped back and forth. No-man’s-land, Dorian thought, like from old Earth.
“Let’s go,” Owen said.
He pushed off with a burst of strength Dorian didn’t think he’d had left in him. They ran into the cross fire. Distantly, Dorian heard Evie scream, “Stop!” and then the plasma bolts were streaming around them. Owen howled, jolted, stumbled. Something hot and stinging brushed against Dorian’s leg but he kept going, a tunnel vision closing in around him, with the hangar at the end. The human gunfire started up again. Dorian’s leg burned. His feet hit the cement of the airstrip. Closer. Closer.
And then Evie was grabbing him by the wrist, pulling him into the safety of the hangar. Behind him Owen let out a terrible sound and pitched forward, slamming into the side of the ship. For a paralyzing moment, Dorian thought he was dead. But he caught himself, straightened up, looked Dorian straight in the eye.
“Get us out of here,” he said.
Dorian grinned and flung open the door to the cockpit. He activated the controls and then opened up the back hatchway. “Everybody get aboard!” he shouted, leaning out of the ship. “We’re getting off this rock!”
Battle Born Page 23