by Peter David
“Why should—?” Luther started to ask.
Usze shoved Luther against the wall and clamped a large saurian hand over his mouth. Luther stopped struggling to get free, not that he could have done so anyway; Usze was far too strong.
There was some sort of loud clacking, accompanied by the heavy flapping of wings.
The lighting was especially dim in this chamber, which had a network of crosswalks high above that cast deep shadows on the floor below. Usze was keeping himself and Luther buried in the shadows, and Kola was hiding as well. The Huragok drifted over near them without having to be told. They were now covered in shadows, making it difficult for anyone in the upper regions to potentially spot them.
Seconds later, the area above them was alive with pteranodon-like monstrosities, with not one large wingspan but two—Luther had seen these four-winged creatures before, on Gamma Halo. These animals were certainly not safe up close, so their large numbers here made his stomach turn.
They barreled squealing through the upper reaches of the room. At this point, Luther wasn’t even trying to breathe, as he was petrified that the things would spot them and descend immediately. There was little they could do from this particular position, if they got the creatures’ attention. The memory of the thing that had tried to grab him while he was on the mammoth was still fresh in his mind.
Fortunately, these creatures seemed to be leaving the immediate vicinity. Had something spooked them? Usze kept Luther pressed against the wall until the heavy beating of their wings had faded away; only then did he release him. “Why do you think they left?” Luther asked, his voice still a whisper.
“It matters little at present, as long as they are not concentrating on us,” Usze replied. “Come.” He started moving again and Luther fell in behind him.
Within minutes, they reached a narrow ramp that led upward. “Here,” said Usze, and the three of them quickly ran up it, with the Huragok close behind. Luther was keeping his eyes on the shadows around them. It just seemed too convenient that the threat of the birds had just vanished, especially given all that had already happened on the Ark.
At the top of the ramp was a pair of large, closed doors, which did not automatically open upon approach, and there was no control panel near them. From the map, Luther knew that beyond the doors was one last corridor before the exit—a control suite for this section of the foundry. Now they just had to find a way through.
“How do we get through?” said Luther.
“Sometimes pure strength is the best way,” said Usze, and he turned to Kola. “Help me force this open. . . . Luther Mann, get up against the door. Take the Huragok with you.”
Luther did as instructed. Usze looked the door up and down. It was about two meters in height and from this close appeared to be solidly sealed.
Usze activated his energy blade, shoved it into the door seam, and then started prying back with all his might, Kola stepping in next to him, yanking in the opposite direction.
At first, the doors showed no sign of budging. Usze and Kola did not stop, though, applying every bit of their strength to the task. And then, very slowly, the doors began to part.
Luther pressed up against the open area that Usze and Kola had provided thus far, but it still wasn’t enough for him to slide through. He started to wonder why the doors weren’t opening easily. Was it possible that something—or someone—didn’t want them to leave the citadel? Very possible, he decided, given the scene they’d just escaped in the main hall.
The Huragok, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Its body was astoundingly elastic as it shoved into the small space that the Sangheili had created and navigated itself through it. Luther couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Within seconds, the Huragok had adapted its body to such a degree that it was able to pass through the very narrow space between the doors.
Luther was determined to follow. After a few more seconds, Usze and Kola had managed to create enough of an opening for him to shove his shoulder through. This was followed by the upper portion of his chest, and then after that, he was passing completely sideways through the space, the Elites straining hard to keep it open.
It was at that moment that Luther realized he had placed an overabundance of faith in Usze’s and Kola’s strength. If the Sangheili’s power failed, the doors would slam shut and Luther would be crushed between them.
With time not on his side, Luther pushed forward, the Sangheili grunting as they strained to keep the doors open.
It was then that one of the Huragok’s tentacles wrapped around his wrist and pulled him with surprising strength. Luther was yanked off his feet and seconds later fell into the open space beyond the doors. “I’m through!” he shouted.
The doors banged shut even as he spoke, and he realized that the Sangheili had simply lost their grip. The echo bounced around inside the room for a time as Luther scrambled to his feet and looked about.
Consoles and holographic panels of all manner lined the walls, and at the far end, an open doorway led outside. Luther walked quickly to the door’s threshold and peered through it, just to make sure it was real. Gravel and moss had crept their way inside, and the smell of fresh air filled the entire space. This was finally their exit. Now they had to get the door open for the Elites.
Walking back into the room, which he had previously determined was the foundry control suite, Luther looked around. Apart from one large wall that was divided into horizontal brackets, the others had numerous displays and interfaces of varying sizes and shapes, all of which were presently inactive. They were intricately devised, and Luther knew it would take him quite some time to discern what exactly they controlled. If only Henry were still alive. Almost intuitively, however, Drifts had already gone to work, fidgeting with the largest of the displays.
Overhead, there was what seemed to be a maze of thin white tubing that stretched everywhere, although Luther was clueless as to what might possibly flow through it. Perhaps some manner of liquid or pure energy. There was no way to be certain. There was definitely power running through the walls, though, since pale lights were shining down from overhead. He briefly examined the empty wall opposite the displays, running his hands along it. For some reason, the shape and design reminded him of a Forerunner shutter system. Then his attention turned to the ground.
There was plenty of rubble and debris in the room, just as they’d encountered in other parts of the citadel. Something had happened to seriously damage this building and the foundry wall; he could see signs of it everywhere. Cracks in the walls, buckled support structures, and chunks of debris—the replacement Halo’s activation and subsequent disintegration must have been an incredibly violent event for materials as resilient as these to show any strain or damage at all. Nevertheless, Luther could immediately discern where they were from the writing etched upon the wall, and it shocked him.
<> Luther said to the Huragok in its language. <
<
The foundry itself was an automated machine, its forge refining raw materials that Retrievers had carried from the mined moon at the center of the Ark. The system processed and stabilized the substance before casting the Halo’s mold and fabricating the immense ten-thousand-kilometer ringworld one section at a time. At first, Luther was somewhat surprised that this important room would be so close to the outside, but then he realized that much of the outside was highly secured already, with energy barriers and other systems. To the Forerunners, there was technically no “outside,” since they had built everything Luther now saw, including the ground and the trees, and even the sunlight by which he could see them.
<
The Huragok had always answered him immediately up to this point. But now the Engineer simply floated there, studying one display after another in what Luther assumed was great detail.
< There is nothing here to see.>>
Those were not exactly the words that Luther wanted to hear. <
<>
<
<
<
<>
<
He was surprised by the unhesitating answer.
<
<
Spartan Kodiak almost fell into oblivion.
He had his flashlight mounted on his helmet and was making his way through a darkened corridor not long after the portal had dropped them in what initially looked like a vast bank vault, but with walls that stretched so high above that he couldn’t see the ceiling. There was no ambient light in this particular section and nothing that he could find to illuminate the area for him. So he clambered over debris, making sure of his footing before he advanced. A part of him was becoming seriously concerned with how the battle had just played out, and, in particular, with them getting separated from the others and forced into the portal. The transition was alarmingly swift and electric, leaving a copper taste in his mouth, but his armor still seemed perfectly operational.
He had said practically nothing to N’tho or Holt as they made their way through the darkness. They hadn’t seemed much for chatting. Furthermore, Kodiak was concerned that whatever might be said could lead the conversation back to the fact that N’tho had definitely saved his life. He had no idea how he felt about owing his continued existence to a former enemy, especially one that he’d hated for so long. Was he supposed to be grateful now? Was that how it was going to be?
He was lost in thought, until suddenly N’tho’s hand grabbed him from behind, clamping onto his shoulder.
“Hey!” Kodiak shouted.
“Stop,” said N’tho with an urgent tone.
Kodiak’s instinct was to pull away while informing the Elite that he had no business barking orders at him. But something in the Sangheili’s voice prompted him to obey and look more carefully at what was in front of him. The hallway was heavily shadowed, yes, but there was nothing directly in his path that appeared to be . . .
Then, suspicious, he angled his helmet so that the light was playing across the floor directly in front of his feet. That was when he saw the problem—there was no more floor. He didn’t know if the vast gap blocking their way was part of the architecture or if a chunk of it had simply collapsed, but its jagged shape hinted toward the latter. Man, this place was beat to hell. Within moments, he found the other side, but it looked remarkably far away. He wasn’t sure that he could clear it.
Spartan Holt stepped in behind him. “What do you think?”
“Can you make it across in one leap?” said N’tho.
Kodiak didn’t answer immediately. He was running some mental calculations.
“I think we can,” said Holt, but he didn’t sound terribly sure. “Use our jump-jets, right?”
The jump-jets were standard-issue thrusters found on their current iteration of Mjolnir armor. They were generally reserved for low-gravity contexts, but in this case, they’d be damn helpful. The main difference between the Spartans and the Elites here was a few hundred kilograms of armor. This was a pretty big deficit, and the Elites knew it.
“If you wish,” N’tho continued, “We could try to find another way around.”
But Kodiak cut him off before he could finish the sentence. “I don’t need to find another way around,” Kodiak said in irritation. “We can make it. What about you, though? Perhaps you need to look for another way.”
N’tho made some sort of odd noise that Kodiak realized was distaste. “I assure you, we can easily make it.”
“All right,” said Kodiak. “Back up.”
He began shoving debris into the pit, clearing a path so that he could get enough speed. He listened carefully as it fell, waiting to hear when it struck. Nothing. That’s not good.
Once he’d finished clearing a lane for himself, he backed up a good six meters and then took a deep breath. N’tho stood to the side, looking utterly disengaged, as if he didn’t care whether Kodiak made it across or not—but then again, that’s how Elites always looked when they weren’t killing things. Zon was also watching intently, however, perhaps toying with the idea that the Spartans might fail and they’d have to explain that to the others.
Then Kodiak launched like a MagLev freighter, picking up speed with every step. Faster and faster he moved, and then, the instant he hit the edge of the pit, he vaulted—and punched his jump-jets to gain speed—soaring through the air, his arms stretched out in front of him, hoping that he reached the other side before simple gravity took over. As he hurled across the open space, he briefly mused about what bothered him more: the thought of dying or the prospect of coming up short with N’tho watching. If the galaxy somehow survived, Kodiak could just imagine N’tho recounting the story to his brood: I was once on an adventure with an ally, a Spartan who preferred to die in dishonor rather than admitting his limitations.
And suddenly the floor was under Kodiak. He stumbled forward, the weight of his armor thudding heavily into the ground. He almost fell before he caught himself, and then looked around. He had cleared the jump by more than a meter. I’ll be damned, he thought before calling out, “Who’s next?”
“Okay, then, coming over now. Step back,” said Holt, who was obviously feeling a bit better about the jump. He matched Kodiak’s starting point, and then broke into a run. Kodiak braced on the other side as Holt vaulted over the space and punched his thrusters at about the midpoint. Kodiak was pleased (and admittedly, somewhat annoyed) to see that Holt landed a full meter past where he himself had hit.
“Good job, Spartan,” he said to Holt.
“Thanks.”
“All right, then,” N’tho called over. “Stand back and give me room.”
N’tho moved back from the gap, just as Kodiak and Holt had, and started to run. His muscular saurian legs pumped with a fierceness that they had yet to see, accelerating at an astonishing rate. Even Kodiak had to admit that the Elite’s speed would easily carry him across.
Just as N’tho neared the edge, Kodiak suddenly felt a rush of hot air blowing upward from the pit and saw from the darkness a sea of lights rushing up to meet them. And he heard something as well . . . like the heavy hum of a hundred machines all moving at once.
“Wait!” he shouted.
Either N’tho didn’t hear him or he was moving too quickly to stop. Whatever the reason, he ignored Kodiak’s warning and vaulted over the pit.
And right when the Sangheili was at the midpoint, a cloud of flying Forerunner machines poured out from the depths, enveloping him, cutting off his forward motion. These were Sentinels—Kodiak knew them from the mission briefing. They were automated drones that protected Forerunner installations, and now there were dozens of them converging on their group from the pit below. The Elite was immediately grasped at by a Sentinel’s boom manipulators, and some even fired brigh
t beams of superheated energy at him, their primary weapon. Directly above the endless chasm, N’tho thrashed at the drones, trying to knock them aside, and hoping that his momentum would still carry him across.
Instead he started to angle downward, coming up short of the other side.
N’tho slammed into the edge, unable to land on his feet. His torso struck against it, and he reached out desperately, clawing to find a grip with his hands. Meanwhile, the Spartans and Zon, who was still on the other side, had opened fire on the Sentinels, blasting a number of them out of the sky almost immediately. But despite their initial salvo of firepower, there were drones everywhere, and now they were closing in around N’tho while the Elite commander slid backward into the pit.
At that moment, Kodiak grabbed the Sangheili’s left arm while Holt got his right. N’tho’s feet scraped the edge as he tried to heave himself up, but the walls of the abyss provided no traction. The Spartans quickly jerked him up onto his feet, though their shields were getting pummeled by the Sentinels’ energy weapons. The Elite recovered quickly and joined the others in the fight, giving them time to recuperate their armor’s shielding.
Though separated by a large chasm, the group had found cover points and were working together to take down the swarm of drones. Fortunately, when one of the Sentinels was destroyed, they emitted a small but violent explosion that sometimes damaged others immediately nearby. Although there were many of them, they were not individually formidable and could be easily dispatched.
“Are you all right, Commander?” said Holt.
“I am fine,” N’tho replied, dispensing with what appeared to be the last Sentinel. When the coast was clear, Zon safely made the jump, and the four of them were once again together. “We should keep walking,” N’tho said, after a brief moment of respite.
“Yes, we should,” said Kodiak.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“Now we’re even.”