by Peter David
Slowly she sat up and then stood, continuing to gaze at it. “What the hell?” she muttered under her breath.
Vale was there for a long moment, indecisive of her next move. Then, slowly, she walked toward the open door. She stared down into the corridor, trying to make out something in the darkness, but she couldn’t discern anything. She took a breath and then stepped inside. The hall was dark but relatively short, ending in a small room with angularly plated ivory walls and muted lights running along the floor.
The room was completely empty except for one thing on the center of the floor: a hatch made from the same metallic substance as the rest of the room. The top of the hatch suddenly opened as she approached it, startling her.
The hatch was about two meters across, more than large enough for her to enter. She eased herself down onto the floor and edged toward the hatch’s opening, trying to locate some sort of footing or grips.
Nothing. There’s nothing.
She was not about to jump into a hole without the slightest idea of what was waiting for her, that much was certain.
And so it was that she was caught completely off guard when the room seemed to abruptly snap forward—or perhaps the gravity in the room shifted—knocking her into the hole. She reached out desperately, and for half a second her fingers caught on the edge. But then Vale saw the lid of the hatch rushing down and realized that if she tried to hold on, her hand would be broken or even severed.
She let go, spiraling down into darkness as the hatch slammed shut above her.
Vale was skidding out of control.
She realized that she was in some sort of angled metal tube, but she was unable to find any purchase. She thrashed her arms as she fell, trying to find a way of slowing herself, but to no effect.
Suddenly her back struck something. She barely had time to register that it was either a stairway or ladder, and then she bounced off it, tumbling forward and landing heavily on the floor, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She lay there, gasping for several moments, trying to get her breath back.
All this time, Vale had been in total darkness. Slowly she got to her feet and squinted again, trying to see something, anything, around her, but she couldn’t make out a thing.
“Is anyone here?” she called out. No response. “Can anyone hear me? Maybe turn the lights on, please?”
To her astonishment, lights flared to life over her head, causing her eyes to dilate sharply. She could see.
She just wasn’t certain what she was looking at.
She found herself in a corridor that seemed to stretch on forever. There was white tubing extending around the right side, and she had no idea what it was or what its function could possibly be. Even more puzzling to her was what appeared to be a series of holograms that were floating over her. As far as she could tell, she was staring at starfields. Stars were shining above her; they were not flickering, because their light wasn’t being filtered through a planetary atmosphere. Instead the stars were steadily gleaming. She reached up toward one, and her hands passed through them, touching nothing. More holograms ran the length of the hallway. She started making her way down it, trying to take it all in, to understand everything that was before her, yet hearing only the echoes of her footsteps.
“Hello?” she called cautiously. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Nothing.
She didn’t know how long she kept on; she just knew that the corridor seemed endless. She stared up at the stars as she walked past and became fascinated by their constant changes. It was almost mesmerizing, as if she were on some sort of interstellar voyage in this place.
“It’s amazing,” she whispered.
Thank you.
She jumped and cried out, grasping her chest as her heartbeat doubled. She leaned against the white tubing, trying to gather her wits about her.
It was the same male voice that had spoken to her earlier, during the battle, though she had a hard time remembering exactly what the battle was about.
“Who are you?”
She felt as if her mind was starting to come back on track again. The fog in her head was now rapidly starting to dissipate, but it didn’t serve to calm her mood. “Where are you?” she said, managing to control herself somewhat.
She was turning in a slow circle, wondering if whoever had spoken to her would present himself. She stopped turning when she noticed something at the far end of the corridor.
Something was floating toward her at eye level. It was moving from a great distance, but rapidly getting closer.
She was unable to discern any detail of it. That was because the shape of the . . . the whatever it was . . . kept changing. There was a golden glow emanating from it, and she had to shield her eyes as it grew brighter by drawing nearer.
It was first generally triangular, then a square, then a rectangle. Then it started changing into other shapes, shorter, then longer, constantly moving. It was as if it was attempting to determine its final appearance and thus far had not come to a decision. Vale stared at it, captivated. There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask.
When it finally came within a few meters of her, it stopped and just floated there. She waited for it to speak, operating on the assumption that this had been the thing communicating within her head.
It continued to twist and turn and suddenly it lengthened. It remained at her level, but grew longer until its base touched the floor. Its gold shimmering continued as she realized that it was assuming something similar to a human body.
It’s me.
It was contorting into an exact replica of Olympia Vale. She had never seen anything like it, and she stood there with her mouth hanging open. “Wow,” she said softly. She was facing an exact duplicate of herself, except instead of being flesh-colored, the replica was still glittering gold. It smiled at her and nodded as if it were an old friend.
Then it spoke.
“My name is Tragic Solitude 000. I am the Keeper of the Ark.”
“The monitor?” Vale asked slowly. “So you’re an artificial intelligence that was created by the Forerunners.”
“You are familiar with me?”
“I’m familiar with the concept of you. Someone . . . Luther,” she remembered, “he told me that some Forerunner installations have custodians that protect them.”
“That is correct.”
“You were speaking in my head earlier.”
“That is correct.”
“But you’re not anymore.”
“That is correct.”
This is getting repetitive. “How did you do it? How did I hear you before?”
“The animal that brought you here. Humans once called it neldoruut; the Forerunners called it chaefka. It is a predatory species, but some of those on this facility have been made servile through my work.”
“You didn’t answer my question—”
“This creature releases a pheromone that your species is susceptible to. Within it is an agent that generates a psychotropic effect.”
“—you drugged me, then?”
“I utilized your communication earpiece and the effect of the agent to lull you out from the peril you faced when you encountered the chaefka and the morolaath, two very dangerous specimens. The concealer hid you well while you escaped.”
“Morolaath?” she slowly pronounced. “Those strange dinosaur-looking creatures?”
“In your tongue, it means ‘blind wolf,’ though it has been some time since humans have encountered them.”
She walked slowly around her duplicate, which was calling itself . . . “Tragic Solitude?”
“Yes.”
“That seems to be a very sad designation.”
“However, one that is accurate. I can assure you. I will not dwell on it any further.”
“Why are you communicating with me?” said Vale. “And why aren’t you spherical, like the others Luther described?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why don’t you look like the other mo
nitors? From the Halo rings?”
“I was created just like the others by my maker, yet, over the great passage of time, I found such a form unaccommodating. I needed to merge with this facility in order to keep it. I have become one with it: I am the Ark. But I have created this shape in order to interact with you. To put you more at ease.”
She didn’t find this response the least bit satisfactory. Truthfully, it was even more unnerving to her.
“Why did you want to bring me here? There have been other visitors to the Ark over the years. I was told that a monitor has never, to my knowledge, presented itself to anyone . . . until now.”
“That is correct. Partially.”
“Then why me—?”
“Do you need a reason for such a choice? Is it not enough that you have been chosen?”
For some reason, Vale considered that amusing. The monitor didn’t seem to share the sentiment. “Should I call you Tragic Solitude? Or Zero Zero Zero . . . ? Or just Solitude?”
“Zero would be the more accurate. However, ‘Solitude’ seems apt. Yes, I will allow it.”
“Okay . . . Solitude. Look . . .” She was walking forward, trying not to make any grand gestures. It was strange enough talking to something that looked eerily like herself, but given what this machine really was, it made it even more bizarre. “What I’m more concerned about is the situation that brought us here . . . ‘us’ meaning myself and those who came with me.”
“I know that a number of you are here. I am dealing with the others, though. They have now split into two groups. One group is being taken to the place they seek, though they will not find what they have hoped for. The others came to find you and are presently under assault, but are surviving handily. All of them are being tested. Some have already failed and perished. The rest will likely follow.”
“What? You can’t do that!”
“I am doing that.”
She had to rein herself in, to remember that she was dealing with incredibly ancient machinery, not a simple, recalcitrant child. “You should not be,” she said. “It’s wrong. It’s wrong to be dealing with people in this manner when they simply want to reach out and communicate with you.”
“They have taken it upon themselves to tread upon me, and I will deal with them as I see fit.”
“They are here, as am I, because we have no choice,” said Vale. “We are here because the Halo Array—the weapon your makers built—is counting down, and we are concerned that—”
“They will activate? And upon doing so, destroy all sentient life in your galaxy?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right.”
“You are correct. That is exactly what they will do.”
Her concerns about the others in her party were immediately shredded by what the monitor had just told her. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly, “did you just confirm that the Halo rings are going to be triggered and destroy all sentient life in the galaxy?”
“That is correct.”
“So . . . wait. Are you saying that you are aware of it, or are you saying that you set it?” Please be the former. Please confirm that you were simply aware of it and that’s all. Please don’t tell me that—
“I am aware because I caused it to happen.”
Vale gasped, unable to wrap her mind around what she had just been told. It was all she could do not to panic. The notion that this intelligence was the cause behind the activation of Halo, and now it had lured and trapped her down here, was absolutely horrific, but she needed to remain calm, remain aware that she was dealing with an alien creation that was . . .
She cleared her throat, just to give herself a moment, adjust to what she had been told. “May I ask,” she said, “why you would do that?”
“Yes.”
It didn’t reply beyond that, and she realized her error. “All right. Why would you do that? The galaxy is filled with sentient species. My people, humans, and others like—”
“Why would you assume that I care in the least about humankind?”
She tried to determine if the monitor was being sarcastic before she realized that was not in its toolbox. Instead it seemed genuinely confused as to the proposition that it should, in fact, have any manner of care for humanity in the slightest. She recalled a conversation with Luther and Henry earlier, about how humans could interact with some of the ancient machines because they held some kind of kindred bond with the Forerunners who made them. “Because you were designed by the Forerunners. Did they not provide humans with certain privileges when it came to these places?”
“Not all of them. Many Forerunners opposed humans and sought to eradicate your people from the galaxy. Others showed mercy, but even they could not have known how utterly destructive humanity would become.”
“What do you mean? What are you referring to when you say we are destructive?”
“The data is not lacking. Installation 04 . . . destroyed. Installation 05 . . . suffering from catastrophic damage in major containment systems. The replacement for Installation 04 . . . destroyed. In the process, Installation 00—my installation—was severely damaged. Your people presently occupy Installation 03 and Installation 07. It is only a matter of time, I am sure, before your kind’s impudence manifests in more destruction. Even the Forerunners could be mistaken. I, however, am not. Would it not be better for the galaxy to perish that it might be reborn, free from your kind and those others who share in your hostility?”
“Everything has the potential to become hostile and destructive. Didn’t the Forerunners activate the Halo rings in the first—”
“You may consider yourselves very important, but I do not. Besides, I needed the portal opened and I could not do it from my end. So I reasoned that if you were threatened with the imminent activation of Halo, you would find a way to come here in order to stop that.”
“Wait, wait. You wanted us to come here?”
“Yes. That meant repairing the gateway placed on your world, which you accomplished. That is why I sent through a Retriever: to test your work. And you accomplished it admirably. You see, I am still in dire need of repair because of the sins your people have committed. I need raw materials: the types that are particularly prominent in your sector. My Retrievers will mine the worlds in your system and obtain for me that which I need to effect repairs.”
“Your Retrievers?”
“Indeed. I have thousands at my disposal. And I will send them through the portal to do what must be done in order to repair me. I am the Ark, and I must be repaired.”
“But that’s our home system! There are billions of people who occupy it. My people!”
“And yet, I have found no reason to spare you. Shall you not pay for the evils of your people? Is there not a cost for what you’ve done to me?” he paused for a moment. “Human, I very much regret to inform you that there is absolutely nothing that you will be able to do about this.”
CHAPTER 13
* * *
The team comprising Holt, Lamb, and Usze had been making their way along the ridge, having completely lost any sign of Vale, and were now progressing purely on the notion of continuing in the same direction. It was hardly a solid basis upon which to stake their pursuit, but they really didn’t see much choice in the matter. In addition, they were getting closer to the citadel.
Meanwhile, in their travels, it appeared as if there had been an increase in the number of trees surrounding them. But the trees were bereft of foliage; instead they were tall, the bark of their trunks so dark they were nearly black. They didn’t seem to have been burned, though; apparently they had simply developed that way.
There was a cliffside surrounding a basin-like environment off to the left, some distance away from the ridge, dotted with entrances to what appeared to be caves. Holt stopped and stared at them. His abrupt cessation of forward motion caused Lamb to bump into him. Lamb then almost fell backward, but Holt reached out and caught his arm, righting him.
“What’s wrong?” said Lamb.
Holt pointed toward the cliff ledge. “Could Vale be there, maybe? Could she have climbed up into one of those caves?”
“Why would she do that?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Holt. “Shelter, maybe? We don’t really have a lot to go on at this point.”
“Anything is possible,” said Usze. “But I am not certain that it would be wise to head over there and give up our current trail—”
“What current trail?” asked Holt. “We lost her anyway.”
“Yes, some distance back.”
“So don’t you think she could have diverted her path and went off in that direction?”
“Perhaps, yes.”
“So why don’t we—?”
That was when they heard the growling. Their heads snapped around as one.
They were gazing at the trees, where the noise seemed to originate, but that was ridiculous. There was no way that the trees could be alive.
Suddenly the bark started to shift. It should have been impossible, but it was happening.
“Oh, what the hell is this now?” whispered Lamb.
It wasn’t his imagination. The trees were moving. They were not budging from their roots, thankfully enough, but they were unquestionably pulsing with life.
“Is it possible,” Lamb said in a low voice, “that the animals aren’t the biggest threat on this installation?”
“What do you mean?” replied Usze.
That was when the ground beneath their feet erupted.
Roots were bursting up from below, whipping around. For half a heartbeat, Lamb thought that it was some sort of ground quake, but he quickly understood that the roots were actually moving on their own, alive and reaching for them.
“Fall back!” shouted Holt.
The Spartan moved away, his gun leveled, the problem being that there was no discernible target. The ground was literally starting to undulate as the roots continued to tear up and lash out at them.