by Peter David
The construct clambered to his feet and came right after her. Vale’s eyes were tearing up from the pain in her leg, and she quickly wiped them as he advanced. She circled the room, and this time when he came at her, she was ready.
He thrust forward with the blades and she stepped in so that her chest was right up against his. She slammed her head forward, her forehead crashing against the construct’s nose. There was a loud crack, and for the first time, he actually let out a startled cry of pain.
Vale thrust the base of her hand forward repeatedly, hammering the construct again and again where she had just struck him. He became too busy roaring in agony to continue his assault, and she continued to pummel him, despite the excruciating pain mounting in both her hands.
For half a second, Vale felt triumphant. But then she looked toward the monitor and was surprised to see it floating off-kilter, the light in its single eye flickering momentarily.
What was going on?
But even as the once-human construct staggered back under her blows, he lashed out with his right knee and struck Vale squarely in the chest. He did it with such force that Vale was thrown into the air, hit the floor, and skidded all the way to the far side of the room. She crashed up against the energy field and lay there gasping. She felt a sharp pain in her chest and was certain that he had broken a rib or two. The pain was almost unbearable.
Spartan Kodiak was right on the other side, centimeters away, but she couldn’t see the others he had said were with him. Where were they? And Kodiak was still shouting something.
She frowned, unable to hear him. But she studied his lips carefully, trying to perceive what he was saying.
It looked like . . .
Bobby?
What the hell . . . ?
“Bobby?” she repeated.
Kodiak’s eyes widened and he started to nod in affirmation. He was saying something else as well. What . . . ?
My brother.
And he was pointing at the construct.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “That’s your brother?”
Kodiak was continuing to nod with urgency. Then his eyes widened in warning and he started pointing.
She instinctively bounded to the right and rolled to her feet, feeling the fire in her chest as she did so. The construct charged once more, blades out, driving them straight at her.
“Bobby!” she shouted.
He came to a halt, frozen in his attack position, the blades still extended. Now he was staring at her with uncertainty. She cast a quick glance to the monitor, who still appeared to be struggling to stay afloat. It had been silent for some time. She wondered what was going on, since this was the longest it had gone without comment.
Slowly she approached the cybernetic construct, what was left of Kodiak’s poor brother, warily choosing her steps. “Bobby,” she continued, her hands out in what she hoped looked like peaceful intent. “My name is Olympia Vale. Your name is Bobby—”
She hesitated as she saw the lights in the room flicker. In fact, the energy barrier seemed to dim for a fraction of a second. Then she turned back to the construct.
“Your name is Bobby,” she said again. “And standing behind you, right over there, is your brother. I don’t know the last time you saw him, but look. Turn around. You can see him. He’s right there.”
Very slowly the construct turned his head. His gaze fell upon Kodiak, who was continuing to shout his name and gesture at him.
“His name is Frank Kodiak,” Vale continued. “He’s your brother. And that floating thing over there, the monitor, is telling you to kill me, but you don’t have to. We’re here to bring you back home.” She was continuing to approach him, speaking as slowly and carefully as she could. “Do you hear me, Bobby? Do you hear what I’m saying? My name is Olympia Vale, Bobby, and you need to—”
He launched himself at her. She let out a quick scream and barely managed to dodge the blades as they slashed past her.
She did the only thing she could think of. She darted in behind him as he moved past her and slipped her arms under his, and then her hands up and around and onto the back of his neck. She grunted and pushed forward, just out of range of the blades on his forearms, and the construct’s head creaked under the full nelson.
She was unable to get her feet on the ground, and so she clung onto his back, still pushing as hard as she could. The construct staggered backward, slamming Vale into the energy wall. She cried out, because the pain from her injured ribs was as vicious as if he had been stabbing one of his blades into her torso, but she still managed to hold on. He slammed backward again and again, and each time she was agonized from the impact, but she still maintained her grip. Then, after a few seconds, he stopped, tilted forward, and collapsed to the ground. Vale stood up, holding her ribs where the most pain was emanating from.
“Stop!”
She turned to see Solitude’s spherical shape shooting erratically through the air, its light sputtering off and on. Suddenly the energy barrier was down and Kodiak immediately ran in.
“Stop them now!”
“Stop what?” she demanded. What was it talking about?
“They’re firing into my data stores! Stop them and I’ll recall the Retrievers!”
She turned to Kodiak, but he was already on his comm.
“Stop your firing!” he shouted. “It’s over. Come back.”
The monitor stopped canting to the right and regained some of its balance. Apparently the others were shooting at something critical for Solitude, and he was having a severely adverse reaction to it.
“Are you recalling the Retrievers?” Vale demanded, “Or should I have my friends keep doing what they’re doing?”
“I’m sending the signal now. Please stand down.”
The monitor’s voice was strange and weak. This was new for Vale, as he had been formidable and domineering throughout most of their dialogue. Now, between what they had done to his data center and the previous activity of Drifts, Solitude had apparently been compromised.
The construct was on the ground, gasping for air, looking stunned. Kodiak knelt beside him, trying to get his attention, but he was too dazed to focus. Then he made eye contact with his brother, as if truly seeing him for the first time.
His mouth started to move, and he drew in breath as if wanting to speak.
“What is it, Bobby?” Kodiak said. “Talk to me.”
“Kill me,” he whispered.
“What?” Kodiak asked, leaning in closer.
“Kill me,” he said again, and his eyes darted toward Kodiak’s rifle. “Kill me now.”
“No,” he said softly and then louder, “No.” He locked his rifle onto his back. “I’m not going to do it. We’re going to get you outta here, Bobby. We’re gonna fix you up.”
The monitor continued to study them in silence. And within seconds, Holt and the two Sangheili arrived from wherever they had assailed the monitor. The Elites looked at the construct with what might have been contempt, or shame. She could not quite discern their take on it.
“You okay?” Holt asked Vale.
“I think so,” she said, taken aback by the question. She hadn’t really thought about her condition during this entire time, and it was now catching up to her just how dangerous the situation had been.
Holt looked over toward the monitor, which was simply hovering in a stationary position, completely silent. He pointed his rifle in its direction.
“You want to fill us in on what exactly is going on here?”
The Retrievers have effectively overwhelmed the human forces at the Excession. There is no victory in sight, and every second more cascade out from the portal. What the machines lack in strength and resiliency, they more than make up for in numbers and firepower. Some of the Retrievers even combine to form larger machines. Despite the spectacle of power that is brought with the Home Fleet, it is not enough to stay the Forerunner machines’ incursion. One by one, UNSC vessels are brought down, until only a dozen rema
in. At this point, some might have appealed to a change of course, afraid that all would be lost if they continued—but that was not the case, too much was at stake. The last remaining ships charged deep into the fray, preparing to sacrifice themselves for the defense of Earth.
In their mind, it was a certain sacrifice. There was no survival anymore.
Except, to everyone’s astonishment, the Retrievers abruptly cease their functions. The machines that had begun churning up the Kenyan surface stop doing so. At first the humans think that it might somehow be related to their counterattacks, but they quickly come to the realization that the Retrievers are being withdrawn to the Ark. By the dozens, these machines flee back into the portal, until not a single one dots the sky.
Minutes later, the African plains around the Excession, which were previously echoing the loud and violent booms of in-atmosphere naval combat between high-tonnage craft, are now silent, save for the wind and a smoldering fire on the debris that remains.
CHAPTER 18
* * *
It is done,” the monitor said, at last breaking its silence. “I have summoned the Retrievers back to the Ark.”
Vale let out a sigh of relief. She had become fairly certain that such a peaceable ending would not be possible. She turned and looked at Kodiak, who had propped the construct up and was completely focused on the misshapen figure before him.
Bobby tried to speak again. “Kill me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No. No, you’re going to be okay. Like I said: I’m going to bring you home and we’re going to get you fixed up.”
Bobby shook his head. “Can’t be fixed . . . can’t live like this . . .”
“It’ll be okay. I swear to you, it will.”
The monitor was now hovering near Vale, evidently looking over her shoulder at Spartan Kodiak and his long-lost brother. Holt remained with her, but N’tho and Zon had continued to make their way across the room and through the far doorway, backtracking the direction Vale had first come. Uncomfortable with waiting around, they were attempting to find an exit from this underground labyrinth.
It looked as if, by some incredible miracle, they were all going to live another day . . .
And that was when the monitor chose to attack. An incredibly powerful blast of concussive energy from its single eye hit Kodiak like a road-train freighter running at full tilt. Even in armor, his body was sent careening across the room and against the far wall from the blast.
Vale jumped, grasping at her chest, startled by the unexpected action. It wasn’t done, however. As Holt leveled his rifle at the machine, another blast fired from its eye. This hit the young Spartan square in the chest, sending him end-for-end into the corner. He hit with a heavy thud that shook the entire room.
“Fools!” Solitude boomed. “Did you think I would be so easily deterred? I made the mistake of trusting your kind before. Never again!”
Before Solitude finished its diatribe, Vale had already launched herself at the monitor’s sphere, grabbing onto the metallic bands that comprised its armature and shaking it back and forth. It would not budge, and with a lightning-fast spin, the monitor flung her to the ground as though it were discarding a flying pest.
“Betrayal! This place is mine! I am the Ark!” it bellowed, its voice a frenzied, robotic sound.
“Betrayal?! I . . . I don’t understand!” said Vale, as Solitude centered up on her, preparing to fire again. This blast would certainly kill the unarmored Vale. “What betrayal? What are you talking about?!” she cried out.
The monitor did not reply. Nor did it notice the figure lunging at it from its left. Bobby, who was composed mostly of machine, threw himself at Solitude. With the sound of iron colliding against iron, the construct slammed into the monitor, knocking it back through the air. Solitude was about to fling the cybernetic construct to the ground, as it had Vale, but it was too late. Bobby’s bladed forearms plunged deep into the monitor’s housing.
There was no question—Solitude had been fatally injured, the blades penetrating its entire frame and its inner components. Its eye flickered, and it thrashed about in the air, screaming at an extremely high pitch. It rose up higher in the air, with Bobby still attached and unable to free himself, and then plummeted headlong into the ground at an incredible speed, slamming down with a violent explosion.
“Bobby!” Kodiak screamed, recovering from the blast as only a Spartan could. Remarkably, the construct had remained intact, though now he was badly damaged and completely scorched by the explosion. He looked one last time at his brother, who was running toward him, and Vale thought she noticed the hint of a smile on his lips.
Then Bobby’s head slumped back, and his eyes closed. He did not even utter a final breath, but his death was a certainty, even though Kodiak shook him violently, as if trying to awaken him from a bad dream. No response. Every mechanism in his armored body had shut down the instant that the monitor had blown to pieces.
Vale stood there, stunned. “What just happened?” she said, although she didn’t know whom she was addressing. No doubt having heard the disturbance and the explosion, N’tho and Zon ran back into the room and surveyed the debris.
Holt stood up and shook his head, getting his bearings. “What happened to the monitor?”
He received only shrugs and blank stares in return.
It was at that moment that N’tho suddenly said, “Hold on. I’m receiving a communication from Usze. I’ve told him our position and he’s on his way with the Huragok, Kola, and Luther Mann.”
“What about Henry Lamb?” asked Holt, walking over to the Elite.
N’tho was listening to his communications device a moment more. “The human is dead.”
Vale was crestfallen to hear it. She knew as well as anyone else that there was danger all around in this hostile place, but she had hoped that their group would somehow remain unscathed. “How?” she managed to say.
“He was attacked,” said N’tho. “By one of the monitor’s machines.”
Vale nodded. “I am . . . I’m sorry to hear that.”
Minutes later Usze, Kola, Luther, and the Huragok entered the room. Vale was studying the shattered pieces of Solitude, shaking her head. She was still having trouble comprehending what the monitor was referring to: What did it mean about betrayal?
“I’m sorry about Henry,” Vale said to Luther, grabbing his arm.
“So am I.” Luther’s eyes watered at the thought. “We did it, though, Olympia,” he said, swallowing the grief in his throat over the loss of his friend. “Well, not us, technically. The Huragok did it.”
“Did what, exactly?” asked Vale, holding her injured midsection.
“Our friend Drifts Randomly. It—no, he, dammit, I’m going to start calling him he—he not only managed to seize control of the Ark, but after you contacted us, he infiltrated the monitor’s central processes. Then he severed the monitor from them completely, which proved terminal for the machine.”
“That must have been what Solitude was referring to,” Vale said slowly. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about the loss of the monitor. For some strange reason, a hope had arisen in her about the possibility of redeeming the machine, who had really only been the victim of a hundred thousand years of abandonment. But then she realized that it was a frail hope and tried to banish the idea from her mind.
Sitting down for a moment, she winced, which attracted the attention of Drifts; the Huragok could clearly tell she was in pain. He had procured a medical kit from one of the Elites and was now applying a thick salve to her ribs and hands, as well as a coagulant of some sort to the wound on her leg. The Huragok explained that this would numb her injuries and stabilize any damage to her bones until they reached Mayhem’s medical bay.
She took a shallow breath. It was going to be a long trip home.
The Elites had located the path for getting to the surface, and the group quickly made their way through. The two dead bodies were recovered and carefully wra
pped in a tarp-like material, with Spartan Kodiak carrying his brother over his shoulder, and Usze ‘Taham carrying Henry.
Spartan Kodiak was walking alongside Vale, staring straight ahead, his helmet visor concealing whatever was going on behind it. She drew near him as they walked through the corridor and said softly, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
He hesitated. “I suppose I should thank you. I mean, he’s going to receive a proper burial . . . and I’m going to make damn sure that the record of his passing is updated so he’s not simply listed as MIA. The man’s a hero, but . . .”
“But?”
“That thing back there was not my brother,” said Kodiak. “Not really. My brother died in this place years ago, but even what was left of him was noble enough to know what it means to sacrifice.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said.
He turned and looked at her for the first time, though she could not see his face. “I watched you fight him, though . . .”
“Yes, well, I nearly died in there.”
“But you didn’t. You fought well. It was impressive. Perhaps you may want to consider exploring the concept of enlisting with a higher authority.”
She let out a brief laugh at the notion. “What, like a Spartan?”
But Kodiak didn’t make a sound in response. Apparently he was serious.
They were heading upward and out. The corridor that they were walking through was angled toward the surface. It took over an hour, but eventually they reached a doorway that, thankfully, opened for them, and with it a blast of warm air washed over the survivors.
But their relief died when they saw what was waiting for them just beyond the exit.
It was more of the white-furred, horned creatures that they had encountered in the snow, one of which had carried Vale off. Immediately everyone who was armed brought their weapons to bear, bracing themselves for yet another assault.