“No. This is probably the device picking up Hekabe’s brainwaves, not controlling the Sharquoi. But it is a sign that the device is vulnerable.”
Ellis raised an eyebrow. Dare she hope? “How?”
Rhodes grinned. “If an electromagnetic pulse hit it, it could disrupt it.”
“We have the one Havok nuke powering the bunker,” Ellis said. “What if we rebuild it, and we set it off over the pit?”
Rhodes shook his head. “That’s the problem. The Forerunner facility is completely shielded. An EMP would not penetrate. And since Hekabe retreated, we’ve been unable to locate him. We don’t know how big it is down there, we don’t know where it leads to or what he might have as an exit contingency. If we’d known about this before, when he was outside, we might have been able to disrupt the object. We can’t do that now that he’s down there and shielded.”
Ellis shut her eyes. “So if the UNSC had told us about this before, if they hadn’t hidden critical information from us,, we might have been able to stop this earlier?”
Rhodes looked a bit nervous. “I couldn’t say, Governor.”
Ellis let the datapad drop to the desk. Her fatigue was so intense now that she felt nauseous. At this point she had gotten only a few hours of sleep during the brief reprieve, and even that was uneasy. She rubbed the most recent stim patch; her skin was numb underneath it.
She looked up guiltily, realizing that everyone was staring at her. “Hekabe will come out at some point,” she said.
“And if he doesn’t?” one of her technicians asked nervously.
Ellis realized it was time to leave the realm of data and structure and pull herself back into the messy real world. Something she had become very familiar with. “We go in after him,” she announced. “We can build something that will neutralize his control and buy us time to take that facility out from the inside. We need some kind of electromagnetic pulse cannon, like the ones we saw used on Mars. Something that will fry that device in his head. Then we need to get that Havok inside the facility.”
Some of the engineers looked around the room, rolling the idea around in their heads and nodding slowly. Others still hadn’t bought it; they leaned back and folded their arms. She needed Rhodes. If he thought it was possible, they could pull it off.
“We only have one Havok,” said Rhodes. “That’s it. And we’ll need a hell of a power source if we want to build anything strong enough to shut that device down. That means the Havok if you want something mobile—whether for the cannon or as a bomb. There might be a way we could do both. If we patched the Havok’s power conduits into something like a rail gun or gauss cannon—maybe one of the M68s—we might be able to use it to power a short-range, concentrated EMP blast. The Havok could potentially still be capable of a local detonation if it’s used right.”
“Why not just bring the Havok down and detonate it near the Brute’s position?” someone asked from the corner. “There’s no way he could survive the blast.”
“Technically, true,” Rhodes answered, “but if this thing is tethered to some strange slipspace confluence, I’m not so sure we have that guarantee. Hekabe managed to survive a direct hit to the head with a fourteen-point-five millimeter round.”
“And again, we don’t really have any intel on this underground facility,” Ellis reminded them all, pulling Rhodes further into her line of thinking. She could feel the room’s mood shifting around her. “For all we know, a hundred Havoks detonated down there might not even touch him. I’ve seen stranger things from the Forerunners.”
Rhodes nodded, agreeing with her once again in front of the others. “The EMP at least neutralizes the immediate threat: the neural machine controlling the creatures.”
“There’s something else,” Ellis said in a distant voice. “The Forerunner device itself. It doesn’t belong to the Brutes, it doesn’t belong to the UNSC, it doesn’t belong to the Elites: it belongs to us.”
Rhodes turned to her, an eyebrow raised.
Ellis continued. “Using the EMP does one very important thing a Havok detontation can’t: it keeps this object in Surakan possession and out of the hands of our enemies. What if other Forerunner sites exist on this world with more of these things? We can’t be forced to experience this hell all over again. I won’t allow that. Not again.”
The others in the ready room looked at her with mild curiosity. Some were clearly intrigued by her line of arguing, perhaps even inspired by it, but others clearly frightened.
“Get the nuke,” she ordered. “Hook it up to a gauss cannon and get something functional in the hour. We have to make sure we hit him hard—and we can’t let anyone else get their hands on that device once we do. We’ll only have one chance to make this happen.”
Melody Azikiwe dodged the Surakan militia headed to their Warthogs; the military was at the edge of a makeshift compound overseeing the evacuation process on the far side of the city. One of the officers driving by stopped.
“You’re the UEG envoy, right?”
“Yes?”
“We’re clearing out of this area, so I’m to tell you that now’s your chance to hop on for a ride to safety. There are Sharquoi infiltrating the tunnels and buildings further down the block. We’re taking whatever supplies we have with us right now and moving to escort the evacuation before the creatures pick up the trail and discover where we’re headed.”
“I’m staying. I have work here still,” Melody told him.
“Understood.”
The driver peeled out, leading a small convoy of Warthogs and even an Elephant. Melody was surprised at the volume and pedigree of materiel this small peripheral colony had at its disposal, apparently all early gifts from the NCA for mutual support. She also wouldn’t be surprised if the xenophobic Sapien Sunrise group was sending them equipment, given Suraka’s struggle to coexist with Sangheili. Yet the weapons and vehicles had remained largely unused for years—until now.
Over in the corner of the loading bay outside the bunker, Melody saw one of the Spartans step behind a bale of dry goods that had been pushed off a truck so that militia could hastily load boxes of ammunition. She frowned and walked around. She hadn’t seen the Spartans since just before her conversation with Rojka. “Jai?”
In the shadowed side, she saw the doubled-back knees of a Sangheili shift. Rojka turned to her. “Envoy.”
“What are you two doing?” Melody asked. While Rojka seemed to have at least temporarily swallowed hatred to work with those he called the Demon Three, finding them all talking in the shadows made Melody nervous. Rojka had wanted to kill the Spartans. He had reasons to kill them.
And here they were talking?
They had every right to do it. And yet it troubled her.
They were up to something.
Adriana swung off the top of the bale, startling Melody as the Spartan hit the ground with a heavy thud. She guided Melody away. “Private conversation, Envoy,” she said.
“About what?”
“About Rojka’s proposal for our surrender to Thars,” Adriana said. “But don’t go too far; we may need you soon enough.”
“Wait a second. He said earlier that he would do it alone and not involve you,” Melody said. Adriana, ignoring her, had already turned back to Jai and Rojka.
The Spartans surrendering to Thars? Melody didn’t believe that even for a moment. And the humor in Adriana’s voice told Melody that the Spartans would not just walk meekly across the Uldt desert to their fate. Obviously something else was at play here, something different than what Rojka had told her in the command complex.
What were they truly planning? Melody strode off, thinking furiously.
What did she really know about Gray Team? They liked to operate rogue and had a very long leash, yet ONI kept working with them despite any problems that caused—Glyke being the understatement of the century. Dangerous times called for dangerous methods.
But what motivated Gray Team anymore? If they were worried about being viewed as
war criminals for their actions on Glyke, they could make any number of bad decisions.
She wasn’t sure that being around Rojka, one of the only remaining survivors of Glyke, who had himself seen so much blood on his hands in the last days, was healthy.
What were they planning, really?
“Vice-Governor!” she called out, spotting Lamar in an operations canopy, getting things together for his own departure. “Can I have a moment of your time?”
He looked at her. “A little busy right now. The entire bunker’s being evacuated. I told someone to take you out of here already. I’m trying to set up a fallback command center at one of the outposts before evacuees’ arrival so that we can manage their flow toward the oases.”
“I understand. I’ve kept you updated: you know Thars is willing to talk to us and I’m trying to get him to prevent the Sharquoi from getting off-planet. But I might need to ask you for resources to help contain the Spartans if . . . they cause any trouble with that.”
The vice-governor started laughing. “You want me to try and contain three Spartans? Are you insane? They’re your responsibiity, Envoy! And I don’t have the time or the resources needed to detain them.”
Melody suppressed her anger. “I’m trying to find solutions, Vice-Governor. I’m trying to stop Hekabe from getting off-world and causing more harm to other people.”
But Lamar was, of course, focused only on getting civilians evacuated from the city. And she couldn’t blame him. That was the immediate need, and the UEG had done very little to commend itself to Suraka, especially with regard to the secret Forerunner facility and the Sharquoi threat it held.
“Maybe the Inner Colonies will just have to deal with that problem on their own,” the vice-governor said. “I know you’re just trying to do your job. I know you’re not at fault. Your superiors left you deep in the mud here. And I am not as angry as Governor Gass is. But, Ms. Azikiwe, the bombs we detonated have bought us a brief window with the bulk of the attacking force. So I’ve got to get these civilians to safety. Apologies, ma’am.”
He turned away.
Melody leaned against a pylon of the operations canopy. She’d fought hard for so long on this mission. Every minute, trying to make things happen. She’d known it was all falling apart but had kept opening doors in an attempt to make some kind of difference. Now it all felt like she had accomplished nothing. Everything she grasped at slipped away like sand between her fingers.
They had just over an hour before the Surakan merchant ships, piloted by Jiralhanae and filled with Sharquoi, assaulted Thars forces and took his ships for themselves. Even if Rojka managed to beat the ships’ arrival and make contact with Thars, it was very likely that he would be killed by his cousin. The Spartans, if they were now suddenly going along, might let themselves get captured alive. Maybe they saw this as a way to get off the planet quickly now that the Sharquoi threat had became clear. Continue the fight from there.
That was logical, she thought.
It might feel like cowardice to fly away from Suraka as it burned. But it wouldn’t be the first planet the Spartans had been forced to leave while it was under attack.
She was tired, and it was getting harder to see things for what they were. But she knew one thing for certain: Hekabe would kill anything alive here in the city, and wherever else he might track down new prey.
An armored glove tapped her on the shoulder.
Melody turned to see the hulking figure of Adriana-111.
“We’ve come up with something of a plan,” Adriana said. “And unfortunately, you’re a part of it.”
“Am I going to like this?” Melody asked.
“Well, you certainly don’t want to be sticking around here. We at least need to get you out before those things show up here and start causing problems.”
Melody looked up at the faceplate. “You need to tell me what you’re up to first.”
“The fleetmaster promised Thars that he would deliver three Spartans and an envoy,” Adriana said. “From what we’ve seen of Thars, and knowing that Rojka tricked him the last time, he’ll likely want to visually verify we’re all there before we can get close enough.”
“You know Thars won’t actually come alone, right?”
The Spartan nodded. “We are ready for that contingency. But we need you there for our best chance at luring Thars out.”
Melody bit her lip. “How will we even get out to the meet point?”
“Mike’s off ahead of us requisitioning a Pelican.”
“The vice-governor said they didn’t have any spare resources for us.”
“Mike can be very persuasive. Can we count on you?”
There’s little point arguing with a determined Spartan, Melody thought, and nodded.
CHAPTER 22
* * *
* * *
Ellis walked through a dark, cavernous bay toward a pool of light. The militia had left nothing behind in the underground command complex but shadows and emergency lighting that glowed from the gray concrete pillars.
Her team had set up a hasty workspace under the glare of several battery-powered lights in the most remote part of the complex. Benches, tables, testing equipment, a few mobile viewscreens, and in the center of it all a very old, bulky Havok nuclear bomb sat on a mobile trolley, partially stripped apart. The pod-like capsule exterior lay in parts on the floor, different sections labeled with markers or pieces of plastic taped to their sides.
The warhead itself was ensconced in a cradle of heavy wires and fiber-optic cable. This one was larger than those the UNSC had employed in recent years. It would need to be dismantled and reconfigured carefully for this EMP weapon to work.
Readouts flickered from screens, showing radiation levels and power outputs.
There had been programs that turned nuclear weapons into fuel for civil use for hundreds of years. People had even been doing it since shortly after the invention of nuclear weapons. Here the engineers scattered around the Outer Colonies had reverse-engineered an entire system that they could plug a bomb into to get the power they needed. Rapid, effective, convenient, and built in such a way that if someone needed the nuke’s core, the cradle ejected it after just fifteen minutes of automated reassembly.
Some rumors suggested that the cradle procedure had been cribbed from UNSC documents. It had been a way for them to create reactors out of bombs but keep the weapons available on short notice. An asset that had come in handy during the Insurrection.
Ellis wasn’t sure if that was true, but it certainly sounded like something they’d do.
She carefully peeled another stim patch from her forearm and threw it on the floor. Almost five days running nonstop. That was the limit, wasn’t it? Somewhere toward the end of that period, one started hallucinating. Or just collapsed. The brain couldn’t take the time to process and cleanse itself, so it would begin to blur the line between reality and the unreal.
Lamar emerged from a side corridor, startling her as he stepped into the pool of light.
“I’ve shut down all operation centers within the city limits and destroyed all applicable drives,” he said. “Everything is on the move to Command and Control Four-East, by the third outpost marker.”
They’d moved militia command and control out past the farms and well into the desert, to an old quarry that had been used by the colony’s first traders.
“I’m not leaving. We need to finish this,” she told him. “Continue to evacuate from the east tunnel and I’ll follow when I can.”
“I can’t walk out of here and leave you behind,” Lamar said.
“One of us needs to be at the top of the command structure during the evacuation process. It should be you right now. I need to be here to see this through.”
Lamar looked over at the bomb. “We should be using that to slow the Sharquoi down, instead of taking it apart to chase this Brute down a hole.”
Ellis bit her lower lip. “You’re probably right, but I’m not ready to give up
on this yet. As long as that Brute is alive, the people of Suraka are at risk. Evacuating was the right thing to do, but a final effort needs to be made. I need to make sure of it. Go, Lamar. You’re in charge now. I’ve already passed the documentation along to military leadership: they’re looking to you from now on.”
“Ellis . . .” Lamar wasn’t sure what to say next. “It shouldn’t be like this.”
“But it is. How much time do I have?”
“Probably a half hour before the Sharquoi can break through the complex’s defense.” They’d originally thought it would be hours, or she wouldn’t have started stripping a damned nuke apart in the underground bay. But the Sharquoi were getting better at penetrating human defenses. No, Hekabe was getting better at controlling them. “Militia are posted up in the forward tunnels and the bay. They’re part of the reason you’ve got your thirty minutes.”
They’d be dying up there to slow the Sharquoi down. “And if you pull them away?”
“Fifteen minutes. Maybe.”
“Cutting it too close,” Ellis said, emotionless.
“They stay. No sense in risking so much to guarantee a loss. They’ll give them hell before those things get to you. Mines, rocket launchers, mounted machine guns—a death sentence, but they’ll sure as hell go down fighting. What if the Sharquoi breach before you finish here?”
“Then we’ll use the bomb for its original purpose,” Ellis said. “It’s ready to be detonated in a matter of seconds. It’d take the complex, probably most of the city above.”
Lamar paused. “It was close, Ellis,” he said. “It could easily have gone the other way. You could have gotten that win back there in the crater. And I would have rightly been in the wrong. That’s the way it is, sometimes.”
He held out a hand. Ellis shook it firmly. “Good-bye, Lamar. Good luck.”
“You too, Governor.”
Lamar had been faithful to the people of Suraka, even during their disputes. Ellis respected that. She knew where she had been wrong. She knew she could have handled things differently. But all that was over, water under the bridge. He was in charge now, and she had one thing left to do.
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