Battle Born

by Cassandra Rose Clarke

  He activated the engine, hands flying over the holo. The Covenant soldiers raced forward, plasma rifles firing, striking the hangar, the airstrip.

  With a grunt and a scream, Owen flung himself into the compartment immediately behind the cockpit, careful this time to stay against the bulkhead. He was followed by Evie and Victor.

  “Are we good to go?” Dorian asked, adjusting the controls, accessing the ship’s forward weapons. With a quick check, he started aiming the missile with the targeting holo. Plasma fire erupted around them as dozens upon dozens of Elites, Jackals, and Grunts emerged from the tree line. Was this the Covenant’s entire occupation force in Brume-sur-Mer? He slammed his fist against the ship’s Fire button and a missile screamed out of the top of the ship, barreling straight through the Covenant and then exploding in an orange fireball off in the woods.

  Screams echoed back from the body of the ship. Dorian flicked on the intercom. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “That was us.”

  A confused pause, then an eruption of cheers.

  “Saskia,” Dorian said into the speaker. “Can we leave? Give me some kind of sign.” No one was shooting at them now thanks to the ship’s missiles, but he knew it wasn’t going to stay that way for long, not with that fire blazing in the woods.

  Saskia’s head poked through into the cockpit. “We’re ready,” she said. “Everyone’s aboard.”

  “Great.” Dorian closed the hatch, activated the engines, and pushed forward on the throttle. The ship rumbled onto the airstrip. Rain streaked across the windows. Dorian shifted the engines and the ship lifted, cresting on the air. You’ve done this before, he told himself, although that wasn’t entirely true—he’d never broken atmosphere.

  Light blinked off in the distance—a lone Banshee, shrieking toward them. “Victor, Evie, there’s a weapons station off to the right,” he said. “I’m going into stealth mode.”

  Footsteps behind him. He activated stealth mode, hoped it would be enough to get them out of Brume-sur-Mer airspace unscathed. The Banshee kept streaking toward them, and Dorian shot the ship straight up into the air—too fast. He was flung forward onto the dash. Shouts rose up behind him.

  “Sorry!” he said, then pulled back on the throttle. The ship tilted upward. They were lifting, sweeping through the rain, into the clouds. The Banshee screamed right past them. Dorian laughed nervously. “I can’t believe how well that worked.”

  They burned through the gray murk of the cloud, then exploded onto the other side, the sun bright and glinting. It was the first light Dorian had seen since before the invasion.

  “Are they following us?” Evie slid into the copilot’s chair.

  “Doesn’t look like it.” They climbed in altitude, building up speed.

  “Be careful,” gasped Owen, “when we break atmosphere. It’ll be—” He broke into a ragged cough and Evie slid out of her seat, disappearing from Dorian’s vision. The hot glow of the atmosphere burned around the edges of the ship. This was officially higher than Dorian had ever gone.

  Up. Up. Up. The blue of the sky vanished behind the wall of burning oxygen. The ship rattled. What if the damn thing wasn’t even space worthy? What if they burned up before they even got out of Meridian’s atmosphere?

  Dorian wiped the sweat from his brow. It was too hot in here. The fire seemed to burn through the glass. Did he hear screams coming from the holding bay? He couldn’t be sure. The engines were roaring, and sometimes he heard screaming in the back of his thoughts. The screaming from the concert the night of the invasion.

  The holo blinked wildly. Dorian kept pushing up—up—

  They burst out of the heat and noise and into silence. Dorian’s head bowed as the artificial gravity kicked in. It wasn’t quite strong enough. Everything seemed suddenly lighter.

  And then the holo exploded with a shrieking, insistent chime. Lights fluttered all around the cockpit. Dorian froze, eyes flitting—he didn’t know what half of these meant.

  “What’s going on?” Evie again.

  “I see something!” Victor shouted. “On the tracking screen!”

  “Warning,” said the ship’s soft, mechanized voice. “Incoming.”

  The ship jolted, flinging Dorian up against the far wall.

  “Impact,” the ship said. “Assessing damage.”

  Dorian scrambled back into his chair and jerked the ship around.

  “Damage minimal. Avoid further impacts.”

  “Victor!” Dorian screamed. “Did you see who it was?”

  “It’s a Covenant ship.” Victor’s voice was clipped and urgent. “Their corvette.”

  “Is the stealth not working?” Dorian asked.

  “I think it’s shooting blind. It can’t see us, but it knows we’re here.”

  “Can you fire on it?” Dorian pushed the throttle down, built up speed again. He had to get them clear. All their careful planning to get off the colony and none of them had really considered what would happen if the Covenant ship actually spotted them, or even once they breached the atmosphere and found themselves in the middle of a large-scale naval engagement.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then do it!” Off to the side, a new screen flickered onto the holo—the weapons station. Victor processed it quickly, but it seemed to take ages. A pair of missiles visualized on the holo, blinked red, then whooshed off the console.

  “A hit!” Victor shouted. “But they’re still coming after us.”

  “Evie,” Dorian yelled. “Get over here and help me.”

  She was in the copilot’s seat instantly. “I’ve never flown before.”

  “That’s fine.” He swiped at the holo, brought up the copilot’s station. “You’re going to help with control. We’re going to push this thing as fast as it can go.”

  On the weapons screen, another pair of missiles vanished.

  “Warning,” the ship said. “Incoming.”

  “There’s another one!” Victor shouted.

  “Brace yourselves,” Dorian hollered, just as the ship jolted sideways. Red lights flickered in the walls. This time, Dorian was sure he heard screaming in the holding bay.

  “Pull back on your throttle,” he told Evie, who slid her hands over into the holo-controls. She yanked back—too fast, but it didn’t matter. They’d been tossed around so much, no one was going to notice. The ship jerked forward, building up speed.

  Another pair of missiles vanished from the weapons station holo.

  “Good job, Victor,” Dorian said.

  “I think that did it. They’re turning around.”

  Dorian risked glancing over his shoulder at Owen, who was lying still on the floor. His face was an unnatural gray. Blood mottled his armor. For another panicked moment, Dorian thought he might be dead.

  But then he lifted his face. His eyes glittered darkly.

  “Punch into the military comm channel,” he said roughly. “The one I showed you. And give them this code. Nine. Alpha. Sierra. Three.” His words were swallowed up in a fit of coughing. “Tango. Do you have—”

  “I got it,” Dorian said. He glanced at Evie. She nodded.

  “Keep pulling on that throttle,” he said. “We need that speed.”

  He waved his hands over the holo, pulling up the comm system. Punched in the military channel they’d tried to use back on Meridian. This time, it worked. A gruff voice crackled through the speaker: “Identify yourself.”

  Dorian leaned forward, repeated the code from Owen, his voice trembling. Part of him was afraid it wouldn’t work.

  But then the voice said, “Welcome back, Spartan. Stand by for assistance.”

  Saskia stood beside the closed hatchway of their starship, her plasma rifle pulled and ready. Behind her, the survivors were crammed into the holding bay of the ship, their voices low and frightened and urgent.

  “They’re finalizing the air locks.” Dorian’s voice crackled over the speakers. Saskia took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure she quite believed that they had made i
t through the battle, plasma blasts ricocheting off the outside of the ship, the survivors all jostling together in the panic. For the first time, she’d truly felt like a part of the town, as they’d been flung wildly through the black, uncertain of their fate.

  Saskia still wasn’t certain of anything. Dorian had come on the speaker and said they’d been picked up by a UNSC cruiser, that they were clear of the fighting, that everything was going to be okay. But she’d carried her rifle anyway. She had brought all these people this far. She wasn’t going to let her guard down now.

  Harsh grinding noises erupted on the other side of the closed hatch. Alarmed voices rose up behind Saskia. She lifted her rifle, arms trembling. Please, she thought. Let it be safe.

  Yellow light cracked around the edge of the hatch. The air hissed. The hatch pulled away.

  A woman in a UNSC officer uniform stood on the other side.

  Cheers erupted from the closest survivors and trickled back through the ship. Saskia gasped with relief and dropped the Covenant weapon. It clattered against the ship’s metal floor. The UNSC officer glanced over at her. Smiled a little.

  “Were you going to shoot me?” she asked.

  Saskia shook her head. “I just—I wanted to be sure—”

  The officer nodded. “Pick up your weapon. If you want to help them, help me get some order here.”

  People were already surging toward the hatchway, but the officer stepped in front of them, her hands held up. “Single file!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of hope and excitement. “You will need to sort yourselves out as you board the Sparrow! This is for your own safety.”

  People were shuffling forward, only half listening. The officer glanced at Saskia. “Go on through. Help direct people.”

  Saskia nodded. She slipped her rifle onto her back and passed through the hatchway, through the airlock, and then onto the deck of the Sparrow, a huge, echoing, cavernous space with the same burning engine fuel scent as their own ship. UNSC soldiers were everywhere. One of them stopped her. “Are you a survivor?” he said.

  Saskia nodded, dazed. “The officer on the ship—she told me to help direct people.”

  The soldier grinned. “Fair enough. We’re funneling people into two areas. Corridor six for anyone in need of medical treatment.” He pointed to the right. “And corridor twelve for everyone else. We’re setting up food and supplies for them right now.” He pointed toward a brightly lit hallway behind him. “You got that?”

  Saskia nodded. She turned around just as the first of the Brume-sur-Mer townspeople were crossing over to the Sparrow. It was a young family, two parents, a little boy. The mother blinked up at the ceiling, her face drawn and pale.

  “Are you injured?” Saskia asked, stepping forward.

  The woman turned toward her. Blinked. “You’re the one who saved us,” she said. “Who brought us out of the shelter.”

  Saskia’s cheeks flushed hot. “I did what I had to.”

  “Thank you,” the woman whispered, and then she wrapped her arms around Saskia in a quick hug, which Saskia returned, her thoughts fuzzy.

  The family was not injured, as it turned out, and so Saskia told them to head toward corridor twelve. She looked at the faces of the survivors, of the people she had saved, as they left the rescue ship. Directing them aboard the Sparrow was so much easier than anything she had done since the start of the invasion. She told them they would be safe; she told them food was waiting for them. Some of them blinked dazedly at her. Others, like the young mother, thanked her and embraced her. Almost everyone had tears in their eyes.

  “Saskia!”

  The voice was a familiar note in the cacophony of the ship deck. Saskia turned around just as Evie flung her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

  “We did it,” she whispered fiercely. “We got everyone to safety.”

  Not everyone, Saskia thought, although she pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on everyone they’d lost.

  “Have you seen my dad?” Evie asked.

  “Not here,” Saskia said. “But I saw him back on Meridian. I’m sure he’ll be disembarking soon.”

  Evie nodded, her expression strained. “The others wanted me to find you. They took Owen away—he’d gotten hit pretty bad, but—” Her voice faltered.

  Ice gripped tight around Saskia’s heart. “What?” she said. “Is he okay?”

  Evie tried to offer a smile. “I think so. I think he’ll be fine.” She hesitated. “He has to be fine, right?”

  But before Saskia could answer, Victor ran up to them, throwing one arm around Evie’s shoulder. Dorian strolled up a few moments later.

  “Good flying,” Saskia told him.

  He rolled his eyes. “I hope I never have to do that again.”

  “You got us through when it counted,” Evie said. “That’s what’s really important.”

  Dorian nodded and looked out at the crowd, his eyes flicking back and forth. Saskia didn’t know how many times she had seen that expression on the faces of the survivors as she guided them away from the rescue ship. That frantic desperation as they tried to find someone they’d been separated from.

  The others were doing it too, scanning the crowd, the faces hopeful and afraid. Something shrank up inside Saskia’s chest—she had no one to look for. Her parents, if they were still alive, wouldn’t be coming off that ship.

  Suddenly, Victor let out a shout of excitement and bolted away from the rest of them. He darted across the floor to an older couple with tears streaking down their cheeks. Saskia knew immediately they were his parents. His mother swept him up in an enormous hug and buried her face in his hair while his dad leaned over the both of them, saying something Saskia couldn’t hear over the noise of the corridor. Victor pulled away from his mom and started talking, gesturing wildly with his hands, his parents’ expressions a blend of awe and pride and terror.

  “You see your family?” Saskia asked, trying to mask her own disappointment.

  “No, not yet,” Evie said, her voice tight.

  But Dorian broke into a huge laugh, his whole face lighting up. “Remy, Max!” he cried. “Over here!”

  A little boy with the same shiny black hair as Dorian came barreling out of the crowd. Dorian dropped down to one knee and pulled him close, still laughing.

  “I’m so glad to see you, buddy,” he said, tousling the boy’s hair.

  “Is this Remy?” Saskia asked. Evie was still scanning for her father.

  “Sure is.” Dorian straightened up. “Remy, I’d like you to meet my friend Saskia.”

  “Hey,” Remy said, giving a little wave. But then he immediately turned back to Dorian. “We were down in the shelter!” he exclaimed. “It was the first time Dad ever let me see it! And then the water started coming in and whoosh!” He turned around like he was caught in a riptide.

  A tall, rangy man stepped up to them, put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “You made it through,” he said, his voice quiet. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

  “Same here,” Dorian said. He ducked his head, hair falling into his eyes. “I still don’t know what happened to the guys. We were on the boat when the Covenant attacked—”

  “Let’s not talk about that now.” The man—he must be Dorian’s uncle Max—pulled Dorian into a half hug. “I hear they’re serving food down in corridor twelve. You hungry?”

  Dorian nodded and grabbed Remy’s hand, and the three of them slid away into the crowd. Saskia watched them go, a tightness coiling in the back of her throat. Tears stung at the sides of her eyes, and she blinked them away before turning back to Evie.

  Except Evie wasn’t there.

  For a moment, Saskia just stood in place, aware of the reunions happening all around her. She felt like a pillar, like part of the ship. Solid and invisible.

  “Saskia!”

  Evie’s voice cut through the noise for the second time. Saskia looked up, and there she was, cutting through the crowd, pullin
g her dad behind her.

  “There she is,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. Saskia blinked in surprise. “I hear you saved my daughter’s life.”

  “She saved your life too,” Evie said.

  “She sure did.” He grinned down at her. “You were a vision coming into that shelter. We’d all pretty much given up hope.”

  Saskia’s cheeks flushed hot. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Saskia’s parents were out of town when the invasion started,” Evie said.

  Mr. Rousseau’s expression flickered. “Is that so? Do you have a way of contacting them?”

  “Once I get to a working comm system,” she said softly. The tears were threatening again.

  “Well, I’ll make sure that happens,” Mr. Rousseau said. “In the meantime, why don’t you come with us? We’re going to get cleaned up.”

  Evie grinned, her smile incandescent. “We’ll stick together,” she said. “It’ll be okay.”

  Saskia nodded. The cold knot in her chest was unraveling. Evie reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled her along toward corridor twelve, and for a moment, Saskia felt a fraction of what it was to find your family waiting for you on the other side of horror.

  Saskia sat on her cot in the middle of the refugee barracks, checking her comm pad for the millionth time. She’d sent dozens of messages to her parents since the town had been picked up by the Sparrow two days ago. Not a word in response.

  She knew there was a chance they were dead. But she knew as well there was a chance they had gone to ground, that they hadn’t received her message at all. It was painful, the not knowing, especially since Victor and Evie and Dorian had all found their families.

  Saskia tossed the comm pad aside and fell backward on her bed. The noise of the refugee barracks swarmed around her: a hundred familial conversations. Almost the entire population of Brume-sur-Mer, relocated to a UNSC ship in the middle of empty space and spread out over four barracks.

  Almost the entire population—but not quite. There had been casualties—the names had been coming in the last two days, and already a memorial was starting to form in the corridor linking the four barracks. A holo flashing images of the dead, their lives caught in a loop of some happier time: celebrating a birthday, dancing at a wedding. Flowers made of scraps of old metal lay in makeshift bouquets on the floor. People scrawled messages on the metal walls: I love you. I’ll miss you. We’ll be together again.