Hunters in the Dark (HALO)

by Peter David

  “Surprised? What good is peace between our kinds, Captain, if all those who would enjoy it have perished?”

  One of the Elite officers spoke up. “The storms around the portal have abated—we now have a window.”

  “Excellent. Take us in.”

  The Mayhem angled toward the enormous spherical breach in the sky, when another Retriever exploded through the portal.

  And unlike its predecessor, this one was heavily armed.

  Massive weapons mounted on its front immediately sighted the Mayhem and opened fire. Energy blasts ripped across the shielding and the ship trembled under the impact.

  “Target and return fire,” ordered N’tho. The Mayhem canted hard to port, avoiding some of the attack, and its own weaponry opened a salvo of flanking plasma cannons on the Retriever. The Forerunner machine attempted to pull free of it, but it was not remotely as maneuverable as the Mayhem.

  “I thought Retrievers were just for mining and gathering minerals!” Captain Richards shouted over the sounds of battle. “What is that one doing with ordnance?”

  “I am unsure,” N’tho replied. “Perhaps when we’ve gone through we will be able to determine an answer.”

  “You’re still planning to go?!”

  “Of course. Sangheili are not deterred so easily. But first we’ll deal with this interdiction.”

  The Retriever shuddered under the Mayhem’s relentless barrage as the Sangheili ship let loose an avalanche of heat-seeking plasma torpedoes. Sparks flew from the Retriever’s energy weapons and then the entire vessel exploded in midair, a fireball of destruction tearing through the atmosphere and enveloping the Mayhem. The ship trembled slightly from the impact, but otherwise showed no signs of damage. Moments later, the fireball dissipated. The vast gateway remained open.

  “Take us through,” ordered N’tho.

  Mayhem hurtled forward, and Olympia Vale found herself holding her breath, caught up in the drama of the moment. She didn’t know what to expect when they passed through the Excession’s portal, because she had never experienced anything like it in her life. She was, of course, familiar with slipspace travel, but this was something quite different.

  As the Sangheili ship entered the portal, Vale’s stomach heaved. She got an acid taste in her mouth and was frightened that she would suddenly vomit. She clamped her teeth together and managed to force everything back down as time and space twisted around her. Energy swirled across the viewscreen, and all she knew for sure was that reality was bending. Quickly, she glanced about to see how everyone else on the bridge was reacting.

  There was N’tho, staring ahead fixedly, as was Captain Richards. Spartan Kodiak looked mildly dyspeptic, but he always appeared that way. Otherwise no other person on the bridge seemed the least bit impacted by her own dizzying experience.

  Vale took a deep breath and then let it out slowly to steady herself. Her surroundings continued to lengthen, and then suddenly snapped back, as if they were a vast rubber band.

  According to the viewscreen, they were now tunneling ahead into the bright aureoles of energy, an effect that would subside after a while, drifting into the pure, black, emptiness of slipspace.

  “Now what?” said Vale. “Based on what I’ve been told, it was going to take weeks, even with us using the portal and the most advanced slipspace drives at our disposal. How fast can your ship get us there?”

  “Not much faster, I’m afraid,” N’tho said. “We’re limited by the sheer distance that separates your world from the Ark, which is immense—even in slipspace. Do not fret; we’ve made the necessary accommodations for your people. And we will fly quickly.”

  Then the Sangheili commander approached N’tho, taking him to the side where Drifts Randomly had been deftly manipulating a holographic interface. Vale tried to interpret the conversation, but it was nearly impossible, even with her extensive understanding of their language and culture. When N’tho returned, however, she could tell that his color had changed significantly and he seemed to totter in a way that Sangheili, even strong males, do when they are confronted with something that challenges them.

  “What was that about?” Vale asked.

  N’tho Sraom took his time to answer, his eyes fixed on the viewport and the blackness of slipspace that engulfed his ship. “Something has changed on the other end of this portal. Something significant. Evidently, it will not take us weeks, but rather hours.”

  This time it was Luther who spoke up, lifting his head from a cone-like machine in the corner that he’d been examining closely. “How is that even remotely possible?” He couldn’t believe it. No one could.

  “We . . . have no idea.”

  Hours later . . .

  The news that the Huragok had conveyed to N’tho proved true, and the Mayhem shot out high above the ancient Forerunner installation, crossing an inordinately massive chasm of space in an impossibly short amount of time. Everyone on board was still reeling from the shock of that discovery, but being in the location of the Ark itself was enough to distract them all for a moment.

  Luther gasped when he saw it. Though it wasn’t the first time that he had actually seen the Ark, it might as well have been; he had certainly viewed plenty of images and studied detailed holo-videos retrieved from sensor-and-scan units aboard Forward Unto Dawn, the frigate the UNSC sent here at the close of the war. When marines were engaging in combat, their helmets were auto-loading real-time footage and data, as were a number of drones. That information had been transmitted to the Dawn, and when it—most of it, at least—returned, ONI plundered every last bit. He’d always been stunned by the endless beauty that was buried in each detail of this enormous structure, even though only a fraction of it had even been explored. It had been nothing less than a living testimonial to the ingenuity of the Forerunners, and he had often imagined what it would be like to actively explore it. But that had always seemed a pipe dream, until right about now.

  The entirety of the Ark’s vastness was there before him, and it was a breathtaking sight to behold. There was no absolute certainty as to how long the Ark had been here, although data acquired from the Halo rings indicated that it was created not long before them, likely more than one hundred thousand years ago—and it had been used primarily as a foundry for the Array’s installations. There was a seemingly perfect circular expanse in the middle of it, which was where the Halo installations were constructed, surrounded by a large surface area that fanned out into eight curved petals, or spires, of varying sizes, giving the entire installation the look of a gargantuan starfish or, perhaps, a flower. Within the circular core there was an expanse with a solitary moon that Luther knew was used as a mine for the fabrication of the rings, yet here it appeared noticeably smaller than before, heavily deformed on at least one side, with several smaller chunks orbiting it. It certainly seemed as though it had been aggressively relied upon as a mining resource in the short years that had passed since Forward Unto Dawn’s escape.

  And almost out of view, fixed in the space high above the installation’s surface, Luther could see the Ark’s artificial sun, a large structure that resembled the classic human space stations of the twenty-second century, with huge fanning solar panels splayed in every direction—except, these panels were generating light rather than gathering it.

  From one tip to the other, the Ark superstructure itself was nearly 130,000 kilometers in all, and its surface harkened not only to memories of the footage he’d studied, but to dramatic changes as well.

  The Ark had endured extreme amounts of damage when the Master Chief and the Arbiter had activated an unfinished Halo installation to stop the threat of the Flood. When the ring fired, it literally rent itself apart, and between the intense energy released from the Halo and the debris after its destruction, the Ark had been ravaged. And now Luther could see this damage from the viewport of Mayhem high above. While some areas remained vibrant blues, greens, whites, and browns, covered with swaths of clouds, others were scorched black or gray, rev
ealing a latticework of Forerunner materials below. On a few of the Ark’s spires, large pieces had been completely torn free, and one of the smaller spires had been almost fully broken off, seemingly held in place by tensile-like materials and gravity fields.

  There was even a large chunk of what was apparently the obliterated Halo ring that had impaled the Ark in its central hub; it now stood forth like a dead, arcing tree, climbing thousands of kilometers into space. Although it was a good ways off, Luther thought he could make out debris raining down even now from the various parts of what was left of the ring, hitting the atmosphere and blooming into flame before crashing into the ground. He had never seen anything like it before.

  Luther could also tell that the surface temperature and climate varied wildly in some places, likely because of the damage that the Ark had sustained. Some of the trauma had evidently led to a failure on the habitability system’s part, and although portions of the installation were clearly recovering, others remained in extreme flux. So before any of them dared set foot on the surface, they would have to make certain the intended entry point was at a hospitable temperature and maintained some level of sustainability. And that was just the beginning of their worries. Atmosphere balances, gravity fluctuations, habitable survivability, and structural fidelity—there were probably a couple dozen things that they needed to make certain were in place before exploring this strange world.

  The Mayhem descended quickly toward the surface of the Ark. Luther wondered where the Retrievers had come from. He could not see any near them, and all of the former data had shown them hovering around the moon in the central hub . . . but that was now completely vacant, as far as he could tell at this distance. He glanced at N’tho, who was focused on the holographic projection of the Ark that the Sangheili ship had constructed—the Elite was clearly searching for the same thing he was. And almost as if eliciting it, Luther turned to see something happen off on the port viewport.

  A section of one of the spires began to slide open on the Mayhem’s approach, but, as Luther examined it further, it seemed too incredible to be really happening.

  An enormous, ocean-size body of water opened up like a gargantuan floor had suddenly dropped out, its waters pouring down on all sides into a huge hole. From this distance, the aperture appeared small, but it undoubtedly constituted several dozen kilometers of surface. There was a brief flare, and then three motes of light emerged from it. Luther turned to the holographic projection, and it validated what he was dreading: the trio of motes was, in fact, fully armed Retrievers. Although still far away, they had emerged from the body of water and were now rising toward them.

  “Target the incoming Retrievers,” N’tho ordered. “Fire at will.”

  Mayhem’s gunners immediately found that these Retrievers were much faster than their predecessors. They cut left and right, darting around the Mayhem’s blasts, and they began shooting back heavy volleys of energy. The great ship shuddered as the Retrievers’ firepower hit home.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” shouted N’tho. “Sehar! Return fire!”

  “Yes, Commander!” shouted Sehar, who was presumably the weapons officer.

  The Mayhem angled around and its plasma cannons ripped out at the three Retrievers, seemingly firing everywhere at once. It was more of a feint than anything else, Luther could tell, trying to buy time rather than expose itself to a direct hit.

  The Retrievers hammered the Mayhem from all sides. Luther was knocked off his feet, as was Vale near the holographic display. She hit the ground hard, and he wondered if she was all right. But before he could act, Luther saw Spartan Holt running over to Vale and crouching over her, effectively protecting her body from the ship’s violent jostling, which continued with each hit.

  Luther also had an instant to see that Captain Richards and Spartan Kodiak had managed to grab hold of something, but his own grip came up a few inches short, just missing a railing that would have provided support. He fell to the floor, the sound of explosions all around him.

  N’tho was shouting additional orders, but he couldn’t understand the Sangheili with his ears now violently ringing. Despite the carnage and naval maneuvering outside, Luther was surprised to find that the Sangheili in N’tho’s crew were largely unaffected. They were used to the whirl and frenzy of space combat, whereas he was not at all. But then Luther came to the conclusion that the ship might very well be shot down and either explode in space or crash onto the Ark’s surface. The thought twisted his stomach.

  He started to clamber to his feet and suddenly saw Kodiak gesturing wildly at him and pointing upward.

  Luther looked up. Something had broken off from overhead and was falling straight toward him.

  He dodged quickly to one side, but wasn’t able to get entirely clear. Part of the bridge’s ceiling struck him on the side of the head, and he tumbled backward. The force from Mayhem’s aggressive movement slammed Luther against the deck, and blackness suddenly overwhelmed him.

  N’tho ‘Sraom noticed some of the humans falling but didn’t have the time to intervene. He was too busy shouting instructions as the Mayhem continued its furious skirmish with the Retrievers. He had ordered the corvette closer to the surface of the Ark in an effort to shake it free of its pursuers, using a large mountain range in the central hub to split the difference. In space, the new Retrievers’ numbers and speed gave them a distinct advantage. On the surface, however, the Mayhem might have a chance. Granted, it was no nimble fighter, but N’tho didn’t have many options at his disposal.

  He was having great difficulty believing that their attackers were entirely automated. It should have been a simple effort to outmaneuver or overwhelm them, and yet the Retrievers were engaged in a pitched battle that rivaled anything N’tho had experienced during the war on the humans. They attacked in a concentrated fashion, almost as though controlled by a single pilot. And with a loud snapping sound, Mayhem’s energy shielding was abruptly compromised, exposing its hull to damage.

  However, the end now seemed close in sight. Launching deeper into the steep range of mountains, N’tho continued to order his ship to fire a bevy of plasma back at the pursuing Sentinels, which forced them into a frantic dodging game. At his command, the Mayhem’s crew then deployed a collection of low-yield antimatter mines that cluttered the narrow wake of the corvette. With that, two of the Retrievers were disposed of in a twin bloom of white-hot energy. And now N’tho was facing off against the third, wheeling back around to deal with it head-on, confident that, in a one-on-one battle, it would take only moments to—

  Suddenly the Mayhem was hit so viciously that the vessel spun 360 degrees several times.

  This shot hadn’t come from the third Retriever. And this time, almost everyone within the bridge was thrown around, trying to find something they could grab onto and failing miserably.

  The Spartan called Holt had lost his balance and been thrown away from Olympia Vale. But the Huragok had, with its tentacles, somehow managed to lift both humans, who were either dead or unconscious, so that as the ship spiraled, they were kept hovering safely in midair. Were it not for the immediate peril, N’tho might have voiced his wonder at the Huragok’s impressive ability to hold the Spartan aloft, given the armored human’s size and weight.

  “Another Retriever!” called out the weapons officer.

  N’tho had figured out that much. But where had it come from?

  “Return fire!” he shouted.

  The Mayhem shuddered repeatedly as the corvette was hit over and over again. For a brief moment, it regained stability and rose up from the Ark’s surface to get some space between it and its attackers. Fortunately enough, this short respite allowed the Mayhem to return fire, evidently stalling out their pursuers—but then something remarkable happened.

  As Mayhem banked hard right to center up on the remaining Retrievers, the two machines suddenly connected and quickly became one. Although somewhat similar in shape to the individual Retrievers, this new machine was even mor
e problematic, dodging and twisting away from the Mayhem’s blasts. It seemed to take on the benefits of both Retrievers’ speed and weaponry, with no noticeable drawbacks.

  A detonation resounded from deep within the Mayhem, and the weapons officer shouted, “We have lost the main cannons!”

  N’tho quickly ran through his mind all of the options available against this newly combined, augmented Retriever. And with that, he gave the only order he could think of: “Ram it.”

  “Sir?” The helmsman’s head snapped around, confusion on his face.

  “If we have anything left in our shields, put it at the fore. Otherwise, full speed ahead! I want this vessel on a collision course!”

  Captain Richards called out: “Are you sure about this?”

  N’tho did not respond, but instead silently considered her question: Our success in killing this machine? Absolutely. Our survival? Not at all.

  The Mayhem bolted forward, straight toward the Retriever. The Forerunner construct held its position, firing away at the oncoming Sangheili vessel.

  Sparks now flew from the bridge control boards, and the immediate area began to fill with smoke. What little remained of the ship’s energy shielding pitched toward the front of the corvette, which would provide a formidable barge, even if it only served to protect those in the bridge.

  “Stay on course!” shouted N’tho.

  Seconds later, the Mayhem slammed headlong into the Retriever, and many of N’tho’s own people were sent reeling into the bulkheads or across the deck, despite the ship’s internal gravity systems attempting to hold them to the floor and dampen the jarring inertial effects. The ancient Forerunner machine, however, was smashed apart, gigantic chunks of debris bursting into flame and spiraling everywhere. The corvette’s shielding had held, at least enough to save the bridge.

  But that was when N’tho felt the Mayhem’s engines fail. It was not with a loud or pronounced sound, but with a subtle shudder, and for him, this was easily detected, as he knew every square meter of this vessel. So when the alert came in from engineering seconds later that the engines had ceased functioning, he was already strategizing. “Take us down,” he ordered the helmsman.