by Peter David
Holt fired off a few more shots just to underscore their desire to be left alone. “They’re going,” he said, as one by one the machines flashed out of existence into their strange portals.
“Thank God,” Lamb sighed with relief. “That was not fun.”
“You saved me,” Holt said again.
“It’s no big deal. Although I didn’t do myself any good.” He was sitting up and trying to flex his right hand, with little success.
“What’s the matter?” said Holt.
“I hurt my arm. Or my shoulder. Something.”
“Hold on,” said Holt as he crouched behind him. His fingers probed, and when Lamb let out a pained grunt, he nodded. “You dislocated your shoulder.”
“Must have been when I fell,” he said, wincing.
Holt gripped Lamb’s arm and shoulder firmly. “I want you to relax.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“On the count of three? Ready?”
“You’re going to do it on one, aren’t you.”
“No,” said Holt. “On three. Start counting.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” said Lamb, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “One—”
Holt pushed and pulled at the same time and Lamb let out a high, piercing scream. Usze’s head snapped around in surprise.
Lamb rubbed his throbbing shoulder. “You said you weren’t going to—”
“I lied. Get over it.”
Lamb raised his arm and then rotated it slowly. He was able to waggle his fingers once more. “You did it.”
“I know,” said Holt. “Now we’re even.”
“How’s that?”
“You saved my life, and I just fixed your shoulder.”
“Let us go,” Usze said. “This respite will not last forever.” He gestured. “We must continue before they return.”
Lamb kept a wary eye out as they moved—he was pretty sure that there were still some watching them, but fortunately enough they were keeping their distance. So that was something to be grateful for. The trio continued to press on through the trees, heading along the foot of the mountain in the general direction of the foundry core.
“We have an obvious problem,” Holt announced. “Between the avalanche and everything else that just happened, we’ve lost track of Vale again. And this time there’s not going to be any way of picking her up.”
“Then we do what I said,” said Lamb. “We keep heading in the direction we were going. It’ll take us where we need to be anyway, and perhaps with some luck we’ll manage to pick up her trail again.”
“It’s not likely,” said Holt.
“I know. But it’s all we’ve got.” Lamb saw that Usze appeared to be tapping his wrist. “What’s wrong?”
“I am attempting to communicate with N’tho,” said Usze, “to inform him of our progress. But the transmission is not going through.”
“I haven’t been able to get through to Kodiak, either,” said Holt.
“Are . . .” Lamb found it hard to say. “Are they dead?”
“No . . . well, not so far as we know,” amended Holt. “Something is likely jamming us. I’ve no idea what or why, but we’re cut off from the others. Given what’s just gone down, I can’t say I like this at all.”
The snow was still savagely beating down upon Luther Mann, Spartan Kodiak, and the Sangheili, but the alien mammoth moved along with the same steady resolve. It certainly did appear as if it had some particular destination in mind; its riders didn’t know where that might be, but they continued to hold on with determination.
“I am wary of trusting your judgment here, Doctor,” N’tho voiced above the snow and wind. “Were it not for the untenable position of crossing the snow, we’d still be on the ground, heading to the citadel on foot.”
“You do know what you’re doing, right, Doc?” Kodiak asked.
Luther turned to address them, shielding his face from the blankets of snow now coming down. “We have very little to go on here, but I have a theory.”
“Let’s hear it,” the Spartan prodded.
“The Ark isn’t just a manufacturing plant for Halo rings. It was used as a sanctuary for life found across the galaxy, not just sentient life but species that depended on sentient creatures for their survival, whether for care or food or whatever.”
“You are saying,” N’tho attempted to clarify, “that the Forerunners kept the natural predators of sentient species on the Ark so they wouldn’t go extinct when the sentient beings on their own world suddenly died off?”
“Yes, they were trying to save entire ecosystems, not just sentient beings, whenever the Halo was activated. If they save a sentient being but return it to a world that is in the throes of ecological collapse, then no one wins.”
“So that’s why a lot of these critters have been trying to kill us,” the Spartan asked with a bit of a growl.
“Mostly, yes. After the Halo rings fired a hundred thousand years ago, the Ark’s automated systems reseeded the planets these species once lived on, including Earth and humans. Some of the specimens from other worlds clearly remained behind; we’ve encountered other kinds on the Halo installations as well. When the Ark was damaged by the replacement Halo about two years ago, things clearly went a little haywire here. The various walled sections of the Ark are called refugia. They’re like wildlife paddocks the size of a moon—we’re talking, enormous cages for different species. It’s extremely likely that some of the walls were breached, allowing different specimens into one another’s territory and destabilizing normal predation circles.”
“That explains why we’ve seen so many species, Doctor,” N’tho spoke up. “It does not explain why this one was so compliant, or why it appears that Vale was mysteriously appropriated by another.”
“I’m getting to that. One of the things we’ve discovered is that the Forerunners could biologically program data into the animals. I’m not talking about making food taste better; I’m talking about seeding behaviors and dispositions. Some have theorized that Forerunners could even communicate with and control creatures.” Luther took a deep breath before he continued. “I think what we’re being brought to is a Forerunner intelligence. Maybe even the one that was tasked with the care of this installation. I think it’s telling some of these creatures to bring us to it.”
The group remained silent for at least a minute before someone spoke up.
“That is not particularly comforting, Doctor,” N’tho said flatly. “If such an intelligence exists, is it not likely that it activated Halo? It may not have a high view of biological sentience.”
“If it wanted us dead, we’d be dead. There’s something more at work here. Think about the Retrievers. Why did they come through the portal back on Earth? Why haven’t we been taken out by one yet during this expedition? And how did we even get to the Ark in a matter of hours, not weeks?” Luther caught his breath, and then continued: “Ultimately, if this AI somehow managed to activate Halo, it’s not going to be as easy as simply flipping a switch. This is its home and has been for a hundred thousand years. If we want to shut off Halo, we need to find out what this thing wants from us.”
For a long while, no one spoke, except for a few brief crooning sounds from Drifts Randomly. Then came a completely new sound.
A distant cawing. Luther looked up in confusion, unsure of what he was hearing. It appeared to be birds of some sort, but he couldn’t be certain; the falling snow made it impossible to see clearly past more than a few dozen meters. As he shielded his eyes, Luther thought he saw some sort of forms pirouetting about high in the air above them. He nudged Kodiak. “What is that?” he said, pointing skyward. “Do you see it?”
Kodiak stared up, also trying to make it out. “Birds, I think? Impossible to tell for sure, at least at this distance.”
Now N’tho was looking toward the skies as well. “Stay low,” he uttered. “And hope they do not see us.”
Everyone heeded N’tho’s advice and lowered themselves on the back of the alien mammoth, the large beast still maintaining its steady pace.
Then Luther heard the birdlike creatures screeching once more. And he was convinced that whatever they were, they were getting closer. Given his theories on the Ark’s current wildlife situation, Luther doubted the amicability of whatever it was.
He started to turn to Kodiak and express his concerns, when a scream exploded from overhead. He looked up in horror.
It appeared to be something akin to a pterodactyl, but it was covered with a combination of black and white feathers. The wingspan was massive, about twelve meters wide, as far as Luther could determine. Its beak was long and snapping, and it had claws extending from its feet. Unlike the dinosaur bipeds from earlier, this thing definitely had eyes. They were soulless, black things on either side of its head. The creature also had some manner of crest on the back of its head that curved back about a meter behind it.
Luther fell back against Kodiak, who was now yanking his rifle up. The creature was screeching so loudly that Luther was sure he would be rendered deaf.
And suddenly its claws snagged around his arm.
Its wings furiously beat the air as Luther cried out, but there was nothing he could do to stop from being lifted off the mammoth’s back. Kodiak grabbed at Luther, trying to drag him back down as the winged monstrosity attempted to hold on. Zon and Kola reached up as well, grabbing his legs to try to prevent him being lifted skyward.
Kodiak fired off his rifle once, twice, but it had no measurable effect on the creature. It shook from the impact and let out caws of protest but otherwise didn’t appear to be bothered.
The creature screamed loudly once more and its wings beat the air ever harder. “Let me go!” Luther shouted. “It’s going to rip me in half! Let go now! Now!” He kicked out desperately at the Sangheili and Spartan who were attempting to keep him seated. He did so with a strength born of sheer desperation, and because of the odd angle that they were seated in, none of them could hold on. With a cry of triumph, the creature angled upward, hauling Luther with him.
This is it, Luther thought bleakly. This is how I go out. Hauled back to some alien nest somewhere and devoured by infants. Torn to pieces, and I’ll never even know whether the rest of the galaxy is saved.
For some reason, Luther suddenly realized that his greatest regret was never seeing his daughter. She could never know what happened to him. It’s probably much better that way.
The creature shuddered and let out a wrenching howl that was completely different from anything it had uttered thus far.
N’tho’s plasma blade was quivering in the creature’s thorax and then dropped free, falling within Kodiak’s reach. The Spartan snatched it out of the air before it could fall past him.
The beast pitched about wildly, screaming in protest, but it was already too late. Black, viscous blood was seeping out from where the blade had struck home, dampening the feathers as it covered the creature’s chest. Its wings were still beating the air, but the monster was sinking rapidly.
Its claws lost their grip on Luther, and he started to fall. But then Kodiak’s hand grabbed him as he tumbled past the mammoth, and a moment later Luther was atop its back again. He was breathing heavily but was relieved to still be alive.
“Are you all right, human?” asked Kola.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Luther managed to gasp out, though he wasn’t fully convinced himself. “Thank you, all of you, for trying to save me.”
“It is our understanding that you are required for the mission,” Kola said dispassionately. “It made sense to endeavor to rescue you.”
Luther had no reply to that. Instead he shifted his attention to N’tho. “That was amazing. Thank you for saving my life.”
“Here,” said Kodiak, tossing N’tho his energy sword.
N’tho grabbed the weapon and examined it for a moment, then looked up at Kodiak’s visor: “Thank you, human.”
Kodiak said nothing in return.
N’tho locked the sword to his thigh and retrieved the cartographic device he used earlier to locate the direction to the citadel.
“Interesting,” N’tho said.
“What is it?” Luther asked, still rubbing his shoulders.
“This beast is now headed in a straight line toward the citadel. And it has been headed there for some time. We’re only a few kilometers away.”
“Just how did it know to do that?” said Kodiak incredulously.
“I have only one guess, and it’s the same as earlier,” said Luther. “There is some sort of guiding intelligence that is governing this creature’s abilities. It’s telling it what to do.”
“But if that is so,” said Zon, “why did it not somehow prevent that bird creature from trying to make off with you?”
“It’s clear that whatever is guiding this creature doesn’t have an effect on all of them, so don’t mistake me: We’re not completely safe here. We don’t even know what the AI—if that’s what it is—actually wants. The bird thing that came after me may simply have been a mother scavenging for its young.”
“So you’re suggesting that somewhere there’s a nest of its babies who are going to starve to death,” said Kodiak.
“Yes, I guess I am.”
“Good,” said Kodiak.
CHAPTER 12
* * *
Olympia Vale was trying to remember where she was. And who. And when.
She was starting to piece matters together, albeit with difficulty. She had the vague recollection of once being completely focused on a mission. But now those details had slipped away from her.
Something happened. Something got into your mind.
But what? Who? How?
She had no answers. Not only that, but she wasn’t actively seeking any. Which she also found odd, but only in a very distant, detached way.
She was now riding a growling, white-furred creature with large tusks and strange twin horns protruding from its back. Some time ago, it had gently nudged against Vale’s legs and more or less insisted that she climb onto its back, and she had obediently done so. This apparently enabled them to move much faster, especially when they got to open areas and the creature picked up speed. Somewhere way back in the distance, she became aware of voices and tremors and the sound of fighting. The sources were unknown, and Vale realized that she didn’t especially care anyway.
She lowered the front half of her body, in order to cut down on wind shear, gripping tightly onto the horned extensions that rose out from the middle of the creature. It didn’t seem especially stressed from the labor, nor was it breathing particularly hard.
Vale had no sense of space or time. Her mind had simply spun away into a dull, disconnected yet subtle awareness of the ground moving rapidly past her.
The creature was now slowing down.
The snow had long fallen away, and for a time there were simply acres upon acres of extremely tall trees heavily crowding the foot of a steep mountain that rose to her right. But the flora slowly dissipated, and the creature had eventually taken her into a large stretch of arid land. The trees there looked scorched, dead husks that seemed to have endured a violent conflagration of some sort. Everything was dirty and blackened, as if a blazing fire had ripped through at some point. The entire area was barren.
She tried to make out the details of what looked like a looming, sphere-like structure in the distance, but she couldn’t see any from her vantage point. She supposed it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
The horned creature came to a halt. Clearly it was waiting for her to dismount, but she didn’t precisely understand why. They didn’t seem to be in any notable location, at least as far as she could remember. Which wasn’t much. But for some reason, the animal had just stopped suddenly.
Vale remained astride it for a long moment, trying to get her bearings. Eventually the creature started growling and moving its head about, which was obviously it
s way of letting her know that it was time to get off it. She quickly obeyed, swinging her leg over and standing next to it, scratching her chin thoughtfully as she looked around. The creature stared up at her for a moment more and then, surprisingly, it sprinted away. Moments later, she was left utterly alone.
Vale stood there for some time in the barren area, trying to figure out what to do.
Why here, though? Why did it bring me here?
Vale knelt down, put her hands in the dirt, and immediately felt the hard metallic surface. This wasn’t real ground. She stood up and took a deep breath, and then she felt something like a mist lift from her. A murkiness departed and she began to remember things.
The mission. She was on something called the Ark. There were other people with her. They were doing something of incredible importance. She strained her memory, but it felt just out of reach. The background started to come into focus, a large sphere sitting in the gaseous expanse, and then beyond, an alien horizon. Things started to become clearer. She recognized something in the far distance: a series of pronged petals resembling the curved shape of a flower that seemed to wrap around on all sides. Then she turned to face in her original direction, and at its center was a huge spherical structure hanging in the mist—some kind of strange moon.
And then, in the middle of her thoughts, she felt a sudden tremor below her feet. The metallic flooring shuddered for a moment and seams appeared around her, forming a perfect hexagon about ten meters across. Then it dropped.
It dropped so unexpectedly that Vale lost her footing and fell backward. She raised her head as she fell so that she didn’t bang it on the floor, but then she lay there gaping in astonishment as the platform descended rapidly. Above her, the sky closed, dust and ash gentling drifting down as the flooring above moved back over where the platform had been before, almost as though it was covering the evidence. She was on an elevator of some sort and was now quickly dropping down far below the surface of this place, the only light coming from dim rows lining the walls. Suddenly the elevator stopped and before her was a closed door, composed from the same material as the elevator. It shot open unnervingly quickly, revealing a hallway beyond.