Envoy

by Tobias S. Buckell

  Could it be that something else lived in here with him?

  No, the distant voice inside told him. You alone wear the vertex.

  The vertex? Was that what they had once called this machine? Hekabe wondered if the voice was some kind of thinking machine that assisted any who wore the device.

  It wasn’t like that, though. There were strata. The echoes of another mind that once controlled all this had somehow remained behind in the vast deep that connected him with the Sharquoi. These things in this place could now become a part of him. But he was still the central power. The controller.

  He was not immortal. He was just that much harder to kill. And if he died, parts of him would still live on in this deep place.

  Hekabe, shielded by Sharquoi, turned and walked down the side of the crater.

  There was still so much more power to understand here, Hekabe realized. But it was time to ensconce himself in a safe area and barricade the doors. He would have the Sharquoi he released continue the work he had given them.

  It was also time, Hekabe thought, to release the Sharquoi that still remained in stasis below.

  He had been unsure of how many he could control with his will at any given time. But now he saw that he had underestimated the humans. They were indeed clever, but this injury would be the extent of their victory. He would lay hold of the Sangheili ships on the far side of the desert and redouble his efforts against the wretched human city, tearing it to the ground one stone at a time. He would flood the planet with Sharquoi and rid it of human and Sangheili meddlers forever.

  He would make them all suffer.

  Rojka pulled his energy sword out of the Sharquoi’s neck and struggled out from underneath its bulk. Debris shifted and a section of wall slumped down to the floor, crumbling across the dead giant’s frame. He coughed as the gray dust swirled around him. A cracked rib made him wince. Every bruised muscle screamed as he limped forward in the lobby of the Surakan building—the same one upon which the Spartans had landed.

  “Rojka?” It was Melody’s voice, warbling slightly. The human communications device was cracked open but somehow still working. “We show movement from your location. Respond.”

  “Yes, Envoy, I am here.” Rojka leaned against the railing, taking a moment to control his pain. The Sharquoi had overwhelmed him, exploding them into the bottom of the human building. Although intended to be a killing blow, the Sharquoi’s attack allowed Rojka the opportunity to force the hilt of his sword into its neck. As the building had fallen onto them, a twist of his arm severed the creature’s head from its body.

  Rojka had woken with a start and struggled to claw free of the debris many long moments later.

  “A message from Sergeant Carson—she flew in with the Spartans. You should fall back to the roof,” Melody said in a hurried Sangheili. “Carson has mined the stairs and her team is about to detonate them. There are more Sharquoi coming. You’ve got about forty seconds before they get to you.”

  What about his Sangheili warriors? Rojka limped through the ruined wall back into the alleyway. He had last seen them leaping for the street to fight alongside the humans.

  Rojka stared at the street where his fighters lay lifeless, scattered in awkward, unmoving poses throughout the area next to their human counterparts, their bodies destroyed together, smashed by the force of Sharquoi fists.

  “Daga!” Rojka shouted. He stumbled out of the shadow of the alleyway.

  “I’m sorry. They fought bravely,” Melody said.

  “Daga!” Rojka could see three Sharquoi dead. The humans and his warriors must have fought fiercely. Blood dripped from walls, plasma and bullet scars marking every open space.

  “You need to move quickly,” Melody said. “More Sharquoi are coming. You’ve got thirty seconds.”

  Rojka could see where four humans and Daga had made a final stand. He had to get one step closer to see the details. He would be responsible for witnessing and conveying to his clan Daga’s final act of heroism in battle.

  Rojka felt shaking under his feet.

  “I heard you say that the Spartans shot Hekabe,” Rojka said. He had seen the Sharquoi that attacked him in the alley appear to lose contact after Hekabe had spoken through it: one moment it had recognized him, the next it moved like a wild beast, completely on its own. “You humans thought this would end the conflict. What is happening now?”

  “We’re not really sure. Get upstairs, Rojka. There’s a Pelican coming in. You only have twenty seconds before they trigger the mines.”

  Rojka left the street for the lobby of the building. He scanned the lower floor and found the stairwell—seemingly large enough for a Sharquoi to breach—in the far corner. He ran through the demolished interior, past the giant creature he had killed, and clambered up the stairs as quickly as he could manage. It hurt, and he had to use the railing to pull himself along. But his anger carried him past his pain. Daga had been by his side since they had hatched. They had fought in the sands of their keeps by their uncles. They had refurbished the greatest ships of the Covenant together. They had fought together. And they had stood together against Thars.

  Gone.

  A team of four small humans looked down from one of the intervening floors and waved him on, gesturing at him to keep going further up the stairs. Rojka groaned but pressed on, taking the remainder in one last bound, passing the humans as he neared the rooftop.

  Rojka paused for a moment and leaned his head against the wall, overcome by anger and pain from his pulverized body when a series of booms sent shock waves through the air and the whole stairwell shook. The explosives blew dust and fire up the well, knocking Rojka to his side.

  He leaned over the edge and looked down from the floor he had reached. The large system of stairs below him had disappeared in a haze of roiling smoke, the exterior wall collapsing to reveal the alley outside.

  “Humans?” he called out in a broken version of their language.

  One of them stepped out from behind a pillar and looked up at him from across the destroyed gap. They had survived a few floors below. This was part of a strategy. She shouted, pointing up.

  Rojka stared at them. They had trapped themselves on the lower floor and were now going to try and hold off the Sharquoi while he left for safety.

  No. Rojka limped around to join them. We will all make this stand, he thought. He would die just like his own Sangheili.

  A Sharquoi slammed through the pillar at the bottom of the structure, the main support system for what remained of their side of the building. The human spun around and opened fire without even blinking. Two rocket-propelled explosives slammed into the creature from the side as the rest of the human squad moved quickly to attack it, but two more of the creatures burst in through the walls below, ripping out the column and sending the remainder of that side of the building to the ground.

  The humans fell into a blossom of dust and debris several floors below. Even if they survived the fall, they would all die in seconds. The Sharquoi would not spare them.

  More of the stairs crumbled and fell down to the floor below.

  Rojka backed up to the wall and felt a hard tug on his arm. He turned and froze, finding himself face-to-face with a Spartan.

  One of the Gray Team.

  “I heard the explosions,” the Spartan said through a translation device. The Demon spoke Sangheili—a benefit of the comms technology the humans no doubt used for their behind-the-lines activities during the war. “We leave. Now.”

  Rojka grabbed the Spartan’s elbow and let him pull him along as they ran up the stairs. A Sharquoi below them bellowed at their escape.

  The Spartan leaned over and looked down. “They can climb walls,” he reported. “Let’s move faster.”

  “Did you not kill the Jiralhanae?” Rojka asked.

  They spiraled up another floor’s worth of stairs. “We thought we got him. It was a good shot,” the Spartan said.

  “So what happened?” Rojka asked.


  “It didn’t kill him. The chieftain stood back up and now the Sharquoi move with him in control again.”

  They broke out of the stairwell and onto the open roof. One of their angular dropships waited for them, their independently maneuvering lift engines blowing dust off the deck and onto Rojka’s legs as it pivoted into position.

  “How is that possible?!” Rojka shouted.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to figure out how to kill him better next time.”

  Two more Spartans from the Gray Team fell in on either side of Rojka. They all piled into the Pelican as a Sharquoi burst out of and through the stairwell behind them, debris flying everywhere. One of the Spartans swung behind a large machine gun mounted on the rear bay of the Pelican and opened fire as the transport took off.

  The Sharquoi ignored the flak and jumped at them, launching through the air at incredible speed.

  Rojka snapped his energy sword on and waited for the impact.

  A human sniper rifle cracked twice, just above his right shoulder. Rojka’s hearing cut out and his head rang. But the Sharquoi’s head got the worst of it. It snapped back and exploded in a burst of viscera. Its gnarled hands narrowly missed the edge of the ramp and it plummeted down, lifeless, to the street below.

  Rojka deactivated the energy sword and leaned back against the inside of the Pelican, grabbing a handhold. “I would now think we have made Hekabe much more wrathful than he was before this effort,” he said to the Spartans. The Demon Three.

  The one who had saved his life turned to look at Rojka, and then nodded. “Agreed,” he said.

  Lamar intercepted Ellis just outside her office and deftly steered her back inside. She tried to spin away, clearly annoyed. But Lamar just as deftly blocked the attempt. “A moment, Governor,” he said, while closing the door behind him.

  “Lamar—”

  “We spent a significant amount of time lacing the crater with explosives. We need to use them. We need to fire the trap.”

  Ellis shook her head. She’d already thought about this and looked at the situation, as well as a number of possibilities, including using the four merchant ships that remained in orbit and even jettisoning more space debris—none of them plausible given the circumstance. “The militia have fallen nine blocks back from the mines your people laid. They won’t be able to cross that to try and retake it: there are too many of those things out loose in the streets.”

  “This isn’t about retaking it. We need to slow down the flow of the Sharquoi still coming out of the structure. We need to buy ourselves time to get away, or at least fall further back. We still have those ships; they can take people.”

  A spike of anger surged through her. “We are not falling back, Lamar.”

  “Suraka is lost, Ellis.”

  “No!” Ellis swept everything off her desk with shaking hands. “No!”

  Lamar took a step back. “Ellis . . . it’s true.”

  She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at him. “My son . . . my son died here to protect this city. So many others did too in just a few short days, Lamar. What was all that for? Our plans. My plans. My leadership. Their blood. The planning done by the generals. What was it for? Tell me that, goddamn it!”

  Lamar leaned forward, hands on the now-empty desk. “When I was in officer training, the instructor told us about one of the ancient battles back on Earth, a battle that the Athenians had with the Persians.”

  “Now is not the time for anecdotes, Lamar.”

  “Those who don’t know history are forever doomed to repeat it,” Lamar said. “So, the Persians attacked the city of Athens. It stood for everything the Athenians were, contained all their great buildings and their culture. No doubt many patriotic leaders swore to resist the Persians at any cost, to the last dying warrior. But instead the Athenians built boats and took to the sea en masse, abandoning their city to be burned and looted by the Persians. After the frustrated Persians left, the Athenians . . . just sailed back in.”

  Ellis opened her eyes. “You’re suggesting we do the same? Just walk away?”

  Lamar nodded. “The Athenians had an epiphany. They knew that they just couldn’t match the Persian might on land. They also knew that a city isn’t just a place, Ellis. Nor is it just a collection of buildings. Or even land. The true heart is its people. Protect a city’s people, and you protect the essence of it. Governor, we need to protect our citizens. Not a patch of dirt or what’s built on it. Those are just things that time will see erased. We need to see the big picture here.”

  “Lamar . . .”

  “We have lost Suraka before and come back. This isn’t new territory for these folks. And we will come back again. But only if we save our people first.”

  “Did the Athenians have to deal with neurally linked alien monsters?” Ellis asked.

  “No.” Lamar smiled sadly. “In fact, the Persians may have had a civilization more recognizable to us today than the Athenians’. But the strategic principles still stand, Governor. This isn’t our war, Ellis. This is a UNSC problem; it’s just in our backyard. We should just let them deal with it and come back when things return to normal.”

  Ellis sighed and gave him a haunted look. “Jeff died here, Lamar.”

  “I know, Ellis.”

  She gave a small frown, then said, “Okay. Okay, do it. We abandon the city.”

  “You need to give the order, not me,” Lamar said. He guided her by the elbow toward the door. “Come on.”

  Ellis blinked as they crossed through the ops room to where General Kapoor and General Grace waited expectantly.

  Ellis gripped the edge of a panel and gathered strength from deep inside. “Blow the mines,” she said. “Evacuate the city.”

  Kapoor had the orders already pulled up. He presented them to the governor for a thumbprint.

  That triggered a sudden burst of activity inside the bunker. New video feeds flashed up, aides scurried around, officers began murmuring commands. Drones flying at a high altitude focused in on the perimeter of the crater, where the vice-governor’s thermobaric bombs had been hidden.

  Melody Azikiwe moved through the throng toward Ellis. “Governor, what’s happening?”

  Ellis pointed to the cluster of central viewscreens. “You just watch, Envoy. Any moment now.”

  Melody turned. The feeds of the crater flickered and then the ground along the rim abruptly sank and crumpled in on itself. A split second later, a geyser of dirt fountained into the air. The explosions continued around the rim, like high-grade mining demolitions. They looked small and inconsequential from the screens, but having been there firsthand, Ellis knew the area of effect was significant.

  Dust rushed toward the nearest cameras and knocked them out, leaving nothing but static on the viewscreens.

  An aide in the corner clapped once, twice, and then stopped.

  Lamar turned away from the screens. “This isn’t a win, people,” he said loudly. “This is just a distraction to buy us some time. Now we need to evacuate every civilian we can. Send them to the oases. Herndon Lake, Aza Oasis, Fallen Tree—there’s water and shelter in those places. Any valley in the mountains with a stream, any waypoint out in the Uldt with a supply of water. We need to get them out of here and to safety.”

  “What about the four ships still in orbit?” Kapoor asked. “Should we use those to engage the Sharquoi, or to evacuate more people?”

  “I vote to keep them up and in orbit,” Lamar said, turning to Ellis. “If we call them down, we risk turning them over to the enemy or, at the very least, attracting them to our evacuation efforts. Right now, we can take people through the underground passages to the trading outposts and move out from there on foot. That’s the safest.”

  “I concur; if we need the ships they’ll be on hand. The vice-governor is going to be directing this effort,” Ellis said. “Take your orders from him.”

  “This won’t stop Hekabe,” Melody said separately.

  “I know.” Ellis pivoted to face her.
“Apparently we needed nukes for that. Something the UNSC obviously doesn’t trust us with. We could have rigged the ships, but they were hijacked, and the others would be too risky to bring in at this point. We’re going to evacuate and let the UNSC come here to clean up their own mess.”

  “What about our ‘power source’?” Grace asked, phrasing it carefully.

  “Power source?” Melody pressed.

  Ellis sighed. What did secrets matter at this point? “We have just one repurposed Havok bomb running emergency power to this bunker.”

  “You have an illegal nuclear weapon?” Melody asked, visibly shocked.

  “Yes. Are we going to argue about secret keeping?” Ellis snapped back, annoyed. “I’ll check the score and see where ONI places. But before you get any ideas, it’s ours and I’ve already made plans for it. So, no. ONI cannot have more of our materiel.”

  Melody smiled awkwardly. “I’m only asking questions so I understand our situation,” she said, raising her hands. “I want to talk about the bigger picture. Like containment. We need to make sure there’s no way the Sharquoi can get off the planet.”

  Ellis experienced chills as she realized the envoy was effectively writing Suraka off. What was one city in the panoply of worlds under the Unified Earth Government’s thumb, after all? “You’re worried about Earth, right now? Is that it? When a million of us are wondering if there’s going to be a tomorrow?”

  Melody remained calm yet stern. “Yes, actually. If you are evacuating out of the city to havens, then your problems are almost over. Everyone else’s are just getting started. Hekabe’s not going to stop with Suraka or Rak or anything else on Carrow. He’s going to leave this place and I want to stop him. Now, I was told none of those ships the Sharquoi took with the Jiralhanae are capable of slipspace travel. Is that true?”

  “Your hinge-head friends destroyed all my ships with drives when the fighting broke out. Remember, when we began making plans for your peace summit and everything went to hell?” Ellis’s voice was cold. “So if you’re worried about slipspace, go talk to the Sangheili and leave us alone.”