by Kelly Gay
“Must’ve tripped a sensor,” Cade said from behind her.
The room was smaller than she imagined, a circular space with a massive central column and two corridors leading off into darkness on either side. But it was the console that drew her. It was clearly made for a being taller than the average human. The display contained more strange symbols and shapes, pulsing blue and oddly hypnotizing.
Her attention snagged on a domed pad with the outline of what looked like a hand. Her fingers twitched. She reached up.
Cade grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”
His grip was firm and unyielding. For just the briefest of moments, she wanted to fight him, to jerk her arm away and slap her hand on that pad. “I don’t know.” What was she doing? The sensation passed, leaving her curious and a little shaken. She searched Cade’s face, trying to ascertain if he was similarly affected. “You don’t want to touch it?”
His mouth twitched and he gave her the drollest look she’d ever seen.
There were a million ways he could have responded. And she had to give the man credit, because he said none of them. Though his eyes crinkled good-naturedly at the corners and his grin was blinding.
Rion tried to suppress her smile. Cade could tease and flirt with the best of them. But he was never crude, never showed her disrespect in front of the crew. And that went a long way in her estimation. Warmth spread through her, and there were those possibilities again, rising up fresh and hopeful. . . .
Not the time. Later though. Maybe later.
With a shake of her head, she tabled the humor and distraction, turning back to the room, noting the two passageways on the left and right of the central column. The walls weren’t lit, but the floor leading down the passages glowed with glyphs.
“Right or left?” she asked.
“Guys, get out of there!” Niko shouted. “Get out of there now! Shit! There’s a ship. It’s been inside the barrier this whole time. Behind the ruins. Must have been in stealth. . . . It’s powering up.”
“It’s a Covenant war-freighter,” Kip said in a clipped voice. “Same sig as the one on Laconia.”
Anger rose hot inside her. Damn it. “We were tagged,” she replied, Ram Chalva’s warning ringing in her head. Gek ‘Lhar had followed them to the debris field. And while they took their sweet time being cautious, she’d inadvertently given the Sangheili a two-hour advantage to settle in and get to the goods before she did.
And now they were about to be ambushed.
“What should we do?” Lessa’s panic threaded through each word. “Take off? What? What do you want me to do?”
“Have they locked on?”
“Uh . . . no. But they had to have seen us. Wait! It’s locking on! It’s locking on!”
“Get that ramp up, engage shields, and fly,” Rion instructed in a firm tone. “Use the debris field as cover.”
Cade was ahead of her as they ran for the door. “Go now, Less,” he ordered. “I’ll lay down cover.” He cleared the building. “War-freighter is up and over the back side of the ruins. I’ve got them in sight.”
“Life sign on your six!” Niko shouted as Rion was suddenly grabbed from behind, lifted off her feet, and thrown back into the room. Shock stole her breath as she went airborne and then slammed into the central console.
Pain exploded through her back. Whiplash wrenched her neck. Dear God. Her vision went fuzzy and her stomach turned as she tried to rise. Her hands flattened on the console in an attempt to push off. The entire panel flared to life, blue illuminating every pattern and glyph.
With a groan Rion slid off the console and hit the floor.
The stomp, stomp, stomp of armored feet on flagstone echoed in the space like thunder. She lifted her head and saw the air warble before a two-and-a-half-meter Sangheili appeared out of thin air. Stealth tech. No wonder he’d caught them all off guard.
This had to be Gek ‘Lhar. It was the same hinge-head she’d seen through her binoculars on Laconia. His shoulders were hunched, his bare arms thick and long, hands clenching and unclenching as though he was already squeezing the life out of her.
Warnings fired through her brain, some primitive part urging for flight, not fight. Rion ignored the hot, aching flares throughout her back and neck, and straightened to edge around the console. Escape lay between her and the alien. Moving slowly toward one of the dark passageways, she tried to angle toward the exit, hoping he’d track her movement and turn enough so that she could listen to that urge to run and hopefully slip past him.
Against an eight-foot-tall, three-hundred-plus-pound former Covenant commander, running was definitely her best option.
Rion’s comm erupted with the crews’ shouts and Cade’s orders. A loud explosion echoed from beyond the walls and shook the ground. She knew that sound—Cade had tossed a frag grenade or two, providing distraction and cover for Ace. The debris field was a good place to play hide-and-seek. Lessa had become a damn good pilot. And with Niko and Kip providing support, they’d be fine.
Rion, on the other hand . . .
As Gek moved, a bright flash on his shoulder harness caught her eye. Oh hell. Were those dog tags? Fear slid cold and icy beneath her skin. She pulled her sidearm from her holster and the Sangheili warrior threw back his head, his four mandibles spreading wide, and issued what sounded like laughter, the sound guttural and deep and full of confidence. His disdain for an insignificant human female and her weapon shone in his amused gray eyes with a ferocious glee.
“Well shit,” Rion muttered.
And then he moved another step, allowing her to see what hovered behind him. And that sure as hell changed things.
It was a luminary. He’d found the luminary either on the Radiant Perception. Or here in the ruins.
Damn it.
Fear took a momentary backseat to her salvager’s heart. She wanted it. Rion straightened her aching back and drew upon all the bravado she had left, no matter how false, and tilted her head. “Been looking for one of those.”
The Sangheili’s eyes narrowed to ghostly slits. His sonorous voice rang out in response. “Translate,” Rion said quietly. There was a three-second delay as her earpiece played a computer-generated voice.
“How dare you defile the sanctuary of the gods! How dare you stand upon their foundations and look with unclean longing at their gifts! I shall find honor in ridding this holy structure of your human stench.”
He bleeds just like anything else, she told herself. Repeatedly.
The console’s light grew brighter. A disembodied voice suddenly filled the room, seeming to come from everywhere all at once. “Reclaimer?” Static stole the words that came next, but they were excited words, jubilant, and relieved. “You came, Reclaimer. Thank goodness you’re here!”
Gek ‘Lhar glared at the console, the voice appearing to make him awed and furious at the same time. He leveled a deadly glare her way as though she had something to do with it. But then she supposed she had—she’d touched that damn hand scanner when the hinge-head had tossed her into the console.
She shrugged. “Your fault, big guy. Not mine.”
His energy sword activated with a bright flash and a whoosh.
Rion raised her M6 and fired at his unprotected head. Incredibly quick, he was already ducking to the right. One shot pinged off his chest harness, the other sailed just over his skull. Outside, Cade was still actively engaged. She had no idea how many ships and companions the Sangheili had with him or what her own crew was dealing with outside the walls.
“Unclean vermin,” he growled as he moved toward her with surprising speed, drawing up short as two other Sangheili appeared from the dark passageway. “Go, brothers,” he ordered them. “This will not take long.” They ran for the door.
Shit. Cade was just outside. “Cade, you have incoming behind you! Lessa, swing around and provide support for
Cade. And take out that war-freighter already, will you?”
An explosion lit the entrance.
“No worries, Less, I got ’em,” Cade said, breathing heavily. “Nothing like thermite in your face, eh, boys? I’m running low on surprises and options here. Ace, how you guys doing up there?”
Niko’s whoop came through the comms. “Now I know why you love this ship!”
“We’re picking up four in the war-freighter and three on the ground,” Kip said.
“Make that one left on the ground,” Cade said. “I’m on my way, Forge.”
It only took Rion a half second to realize—
Gek ‘Lhar’s back was to the entrance now, his energy sword casting an eerie glow. Cade was running in blind.
“No, wait! Cade! Don’t—” she shouted, surging forward in a desperate attempt.
But Cade was already inside. And Gek was already turning. Cade saw what was going to happen and couldn’t stop it. With a split-second moment of clarity and ingenuity, he slid the bag of grenades across the floor toward Rion as the energy sword plunged effortlessly through his chest.
With a scream of horror, Rion ran, leapt on a console, and from there jumped on the Sangheili’s back. She stuck the muzzle of her M6 against his skull and fired at the same moment he struck her on the side of his head with his forearm. The bullet sliced across his left eye and ricocheted off his chest armor. Gek roared as blood spilled from the wound. He reached up with both hands, grabbed Rion by the shoulders, and slung her over his head.
She hit the wall and felt a stinging snap in her lower back.
Nausea and pain rolled through her, one sickening wave after another. But she pushed on, shocked and horrified, crawling over to the bag of grenades. Inside, nothing but a flashbang and a frag. A frag would kill them all. And a flashbang wouldn’t accomplish much because she didn’t intend to cause a distraction and run. She wasn’t leaving Cade.
Panting heavily, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand unable to stop the groan of hurt that tore from her throat. A cold sweat covered her skin. Her vision wavered. The pain shooting down her legs was unbearable.
The Sangheili leaned over and ripped Cade’s dog tags from his neck. Then he canted slightly in her direction, thick indigo blood running down the left side of his face as he bared his nasty, pointed, blood-covered teeth, his jaws vibrating. The hate in that one good eye burned hot and sparked inside her a cold, deadened rage.
She lifted the grenade.
The disembodied voice stopped its incessant chattering to say, “An explosion of that magnitude would . . .”
Rion ignored it completely. She knew exactly what the frag would do.
And so did Gek ‘Lhar.
There was no mercy left inside her, no sense of self-preservation, no fear—just a dazzling need for retribution. It built inside, bristling and biting. Her eyes stung hot with unshed tears, but she never looked away, never gave the murderous creature the satisfaction. She wanted him to see the lengths to which she was willing to go.
She lifted the grenade higher and flicked the safety.
They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. She’d do it. If he took one goddamn step—
He glanced at the luminary, his hesitation clear. He wanted the fight, but that device—to him, a sacred relic—was more important than running the risk of damage. To him, it was more important than anything else. With an evil glint in his one good eye, he hooked Cade’s dog tags on his shoulder to hang with the others, sneered at her, then stepped over Cade’s body and maneuvered the luminary out the door.
Rion heard the crew’s voices in her comm, but they were just background noise now.
Everything was background noise. Everything but Cade.
SEVENTEEN
* * *
* * *
Forerunner ruin, debris field, uncharted space
The pain in Rion’s back rolled over her in nasty waves. Bile rose in her throat as she sank to her knees and crawled to Cade’s side. His hands were on his chest, the massive wound having been cauterized by the effects of the plasma sword. His breath was shallow, coming in small, faint wisps. His eyes were dazed, unfocused and blinking, as though he were trying desperately to stay lucid with every blink.
“Cade.” Her voice broke as he turned his head. His hand flailed, searching for her. She grabbed it and held tight. Quickly, she examined the gaping wound, wanting to do something, to ease his pain, to fix it.
But it was too late. There was nothing she could do.
He squeezed and her attention returned to his pale face. Emotion swam among tears as he stared at her with a vague smile. He went to speak, but blood bubbled up, choking him instead. His throat worked, trying to swallow it down.
“Shh. You don’t have to—”
“It’s okay, Forge,” he forced out. “Guess it . . . wasn’t so easy after all.”
His eyelids fluttered. Rion’s hand tightened and she leaned over him. “Cade, no,” she cried, cheek to cheek, tears falling hot from her eyes.
“It’s okay,” he barely whispered.
She lifted her head. His eyes were closed now. His shaking ceased. His body went quiet.
“Niko,” Rion managed, as raw fury lit a path through every nerve in her body. “Unload everything we have on that ship.”
“Way ahead of you, boss,” he said, his voice angry and broken.
The crew’s communications faded into the background. Rion registered it all, a small part of her keeping track as Ace pursued the Covenant war-freighter after it had swept in to pick up Gek ‘Lhar and the subsequent chase through the debris field.
If there was any chance to stop that ship, they had to do it without her.
Which was just as well. She wasn’t leaving Cade.
* * *
Rion had no idea how much time had passed. A half hour? An hour? Two?
Whatever. It felt like a lifetime either way.
Gek and his crew had made their way back to a war-freighter hidden on the far side of the debris field and fled the system.
Lessa, Niko, and Kip came at some point with a grav stretcher from the med bay. She stared at it, its presence bringing up the stark reality that she couldn’t remain there forever, couldn’t sit with Cade as long as she wanted. And soon she’d have to say good-bye. But this good-bye . . . oh, this one would be so very hard.
Tears stung her eyes again, but she forced them down along with the lump in her throat.
Lessa knelt by Cade’s side, her nose and eyes red from crying. Niko sank down beside his sister and put his arm around her. His eyes were rimmed with tears, old streaks dried on his young face.
They mourned for Cade. It had never occurred to them that someone might die—or maybe it had, but the idea had been just a faint shadow, a whisper, nothing more.
Watching them grieve was another kind of pain Rion couldn’t have prepared for. It wasn’t supposed to end like this; her personal demons and her search for answers weren’t supposed to get anyone killed.
“Did you bring pain inhibitors?” she asked Kip. He was quiet, head down. She couldn’t see his face as he prepared the stretcher.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes haunted and nodded, then rooted around in the bag sitting on the stretcher. He knelt next to her to administer the medication, but she took the syringe from him. “I’ll do it. Just see to Cade.”
And then she injected the medication into her thigh, closing her eyes and counting down the seconds for the drug to flow and begin to mask her pain, just enough time for the crew to move Cade onto the stretcher. Niko engaged the antigravity. Kip offered her a hand, and the kindness was more than she could take as the inhibitor washed over her, unlocking the tenuous control she had over her emotions. Guilt flowed in like a tsunami. And as she stared up at Kip and his outstretched hand, she felt weak for the first
time in a long while.
There was something in his eyes, a kind of understanding and a depth she hadn’t seen before . . . as though he understood pain and grief on a deep and very personal level.
He gestured once more, telling her to accept his help. And eventually, she did.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
They all paused at the disembodied sound, the sheer desperation clear in the high-pitched tone. Rion had completely forgotten about the strange voice; it had gone silent when Cade died.
“If you must go, take me with you. I am here to assist, Reclaimers.”
In a semidrugged daze, Rion blew out a weary breath and told the crew to take Cade back to the ship.
She watched them leave, and a bleak, withering darkness worked its way inside her, taking root, encompassing her emotions within a hard, bitter shell. Her grief must be contained because she couldn’t fall apart now or leave her ship and crew without a leader, without strength to lean on, or a sharp mind to get them home.
She failed Cade. God, how she failed.
But it wouldn’t, couldn’t happen again.
Her steps were slow and measured as she made her way to the console. Even with the meds, her back burned with harsh, unrelenting pain. She wiped the back of her forearm across her wet face, then rested both hands on the console and forced words from her exhausted body. “All right, whatever you are. You have five minutes.”
“I am,” the voice began with pomp, and then stalled as though forgetting its identity. “I am . . . the caretaker of this facility. I am . . . You have returned. No. Different. Ah. Yes. Reclaimer. I am here. Trapped in this console. This chip. Just a little bit. I am a bit. I’m a little bit . . . leftover.”
“You’re a Forerunner AI.”
“Perhaps, yes? But alas, just a little bit.” It let out a strange metallic-sounding sigh. “Fragmented. Name and designation lost. Little bit. Just a little bit left. Kept running, kept jumping, kept copying . . . Piece to piece. Bit to bit. You are a Reclaimer. Not all is lost.”