Point of Light

by Kelly Gay

  He was almost afraid to say what was on his mind. Bex had a massive temper, but… “Terraforming would just be a Band-Aid, though. You can’t fix an unstable star.”

  “Yes, I already know that. But it’ll keep Aleria going until the sun moves back into its stable phase—those are the latest predictions, and it’s the best news we’ve had in a long time. All we need is a century to keep her afloat. Then the stable period is projected to last three times that. And in that time, with the planet recovering and advances in tech… who knows what will be possible. But if we do nothing? Aleria won’t last another twenty years.”

  Bex had always possessed a raw passion for Aleria, and a burning hatred for the guilds and the corruption that ran rampant on the planet, as well as for the UEG for abandoning the population. She certainly put him to shame. While he was off living dangerously, enjoying an exciting life among the stars, she was putting her heart and soul and intelligence into trying to save an entire world and its people.

  “Why didn’t you just ask me to help? Why the cloak-and-dagger shit?”

  “Because I got caught by Holson. They thought I was writing to you because I wanted a ship for myself, to branch out and form my own courier service, so I had to play it off, had to convince them I was doing it to rise in the ranks.… The lie wasn’t hard to sell since I don’t have a ship of my own to put any capacitors into.”

  “And they don’t know about your other plans?”

  “No. There’s an underground—a small group of us working on reclaiming Aleria.” The van veered off the highway onto an exit, then headed down a service road.

  “We’re almost there.”

  “Where’s there?”

  “Shipyard outside of Delos. We’re leaving in twenty-four hours.” She hesitated, and he didn’t miss the rare flash of vulnerability cross her face. “Come back with me. Help me finish my work.”

  “Bex. I can’t.… I—” How was he supposed to explain his plans? “I have business to finish.”

  “Up to you if you want to keep dodging the spooks. I came for the capacitors anyway. So?”

  “So what?”

  “The capacitors. The last message we got was that you’d found them here on New Carthage and coordinates would be forthcoming. So where are they?” Her eyes narrowed; he’d never been great at keeping a poker face. “You don’t have them.”

  “Yet.”

  “And your message about having a lead on them—was that true?”

  “Yes, that part is true. They’re being held on deposit.”

  “Perfect. Then we’ll start there.”

  “Is it true—you would’ve done it? Broken our pact, told Lessa the truth, if I didn’t cooperate?”

  Bex was quiet for a long moment, and just a tad guilty if he wasn’t mistaken. “I knew I wouldn’t have to. I know you, Niko. You’d do anything to protect your sister. It makes you predictable.”

  “And a good person,” he shot back.

  “Whatever. Look, it was just a onetime thing. I’m not like the guild and don’t plan on extorting you for more, all right? And they don’t know what I know, so you don’t have to worry about them either. You’re not a prisoner; you can just point me in the right direction and bolt whenever you want.” But you do owe me. Oh, he could almost hear those words aloud. “You can come on board, get cleaned up, and have a decent meal. Once you give me what I want, no one will stop you from leaving.” The van parked. “Runner’s oath,” she promised, sacred among couriers.

  “You have a ship?”

  She frowned like he’d lost his marbles. “Of course I have a ship. We’re here.”

  The van door slid open to reveal two young Alerians. Bex hopped out. Niko tucked his hair behind his ears and followed, under their judgmental eyes. They were quiet as they turned and headed toward a small shipyard.

  They were part of the underground, the rebels, and he couldn’t deny he felt an affinity to their cause, and a responsibility to set things right if he could.

  He had some time.…

  At the very least, he could stop running for a little while, regroup, and start looking for Lessa and Ram. Once he found them and got the capacitors, Bex had a ship that could drop them off at Myer’s Moon.

  Being blackmailed might just be the best thing that could have happened.

  “Well?” Bex was waiting, standing a few meters in front of him, staring over her shoulder.

  Making up his mind, Niko joined her. “Lead the way.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Rion

  “Hey.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “Hey.”

  The incessant tapping against her cheek became so annoying it brought Rion out of unconsciousness with an angry jolt. Her fingers curled into a fist, but it was all she could manage. A groan rumbled from her dry throat. The tap came again and she waved it away with a garbled curse.

  Hands gripped her arms and legs, peeling her from the interior of the tree. She wanted to fight, but was trapped inside her own turbid mind. Being handled, poked, pulled, lifted, turned, and jostled only achieved one thing: it sent her right back down the rabbit hole.

  The next time she stepped out of the murk her eyelids were being rubbed in gentle circles. “Hey, wake up now, lady,” a male voice said. “Come on, open them eyes.”

  She squeezed them tighter.

  A finger pulled her eyelid up and then flicked her right on the pupil.

  Instant pain rang through her eyeball and into her head like a bell. She took her first real, full gasp of air in a very long time.

  “There you go. Works every time. Take it easy. That’s it. Welcome back.”

  Profanity formed, but didn’t make it past Rion’s lips. So much gunk was in her eyes that it made blinking uncomfortable, and when she did manage it, there was a strange filmy layer making it hard to focus. The flick to her eye hurt like hell, but it also seemed to flick a switch inside her, a main circuit breaker that brought to life her dulled-out pain receptors. A blistering ache radiated from her scalp down to the tips of her toes, causing tears to rise and sting her sinuses.

  Hands helped scoot her backward to lean against what felt like a rough rock wall.

  “I’m sorry, we don’t have any drops for your eyes; ran out of those a while back.”

  Responding was a failure, her mouth too dry. Even her teeth hurt. A cup was placed to her lips. She flailed at first but quickly succeeded in grabbing the sides herself and drinking. “It helps if you dip a finger in the water and rub some in the corner of your eyes.”

  Rion did so repeatedly, finally finding some relief.

  It was still difficult to see, though, but from what she could tell, two figures were in front of her, too blurry to make out features. “What… happened?”

  “Did you ask her?” a different voice said, impatient and demanding.

  “Ask what?” Talking was exhausting. “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” the friendlier male asked, and she detected a smile in his voice.

  Her head fell back against the wall and she swallowed, closing her eyes and trying to breathe through the agony. “You first.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter who the hell she is,” the other one said, crouching close enough that his arm brushed against her leg. “Do you have a ship?”

  Her laugh came out as a scratchy squeak. “Yup.” Of course she had a ship; what kind of idiotic question was that? But then she remembered.… “No… it’s not here.”

  The figure stood. “She’s still delirious,” he said with disgust, footsteps storming away.

  “Give her time, all right?” A blurry face appeared over her. “Don’t mind him. We’re all pretty anxious to get off this rock. Finding you has given everyone hope. So… you came here without a ship, huh?” There was that smiling tone again. “Here.” He pressed a wet cloth into her hand. “Put it on your eyes. The anglers, that’s what we call them, spit in the eyes of their victims. Acts as a calming agent, keeps you content and immobile. Just rest up. You’re safe now. I�
��ll get you something to eat in a sec. You’ll puke it up, but then you’ll start feeling better.”

  “Thanks.” Low voices echoed around her, footsteps, and the clank of metals or plastics. The scent of dirt and rock was strong, and the echoing told her they must be in a cavern. Hopefully they had tech. She could get a message to Ace and get off this cursed planet. “How did you get me out?” Her words slurred a bit. “Those things…”

  “Don’t seem the type to let their next meal go without a fight? You’re right about that. The doc made us a deterrent.… Don’t worry about it now. Just get some rest.”

  Her caretaker ended up being right. She ate—some type of leek-ish soup, by her estimation—then promptly retched the meager contents of her stomach in the kindly provided bucket. Once that bit of fun was over, she did start feeling marginally better, and her sight started to clear up—just a bit of fuzz remained at the outer edges of her vision.

  Soon, she was starving, thirsty, and could have definitely used that last pain patch in her vest.

  The cave was large. There were four sleeping pallets that she could see, a makeshift fire pit, and random gear piled against walls. Whoever they were, they’d been here awhile. A man approached and squatted in front of her, handing her a bowl of what appeared to be broth. “Here, this will stay down now.” Her caretaker, now that she could put a face with the voice, was mid-thirties, with kind hazel eyes, brown hair grown over his ears, and a few months’ worth of facial hair. He was dressed in worn fatigues, combat boots, and a threadbare standard-issue shirt with a very familiar logo.

  Unbelievable. She’d been dodging these guys for over a year. Of all the luck…

  Keeping her reaction even, she said, “ONI, huh?” She gestured to the logo, then sipped on the broth. “How long have you been here?”

  “Three months. You’d really make my day if you said you have a ship nearby.”

  Explaining her presence was going to be a bit tricky. “No, but there is one coming. My crew, they’ll be coming.” His odd look said she needed to explain better. “I’m a salvager. We were reconning the planet, and I got left behind. It’s a long story. My gear…”

  “Out of luck, I’m afraid. The anglers learned pretty quickly to remove all gear from their prey. They also mimic sound and light; makes them the perfect predator. Unfortunately, we figured that out too late.”

  “What are you even doing here?”

  “We were support, sent in when the research teams here stopped reporting back. All we found at first were empty sites. No remains. No signs of struggle.”

  “How many were here?”

  “Originally? Five research facilities staffed with eight to ten scientists and a security detail of six per site. There were twelve in our response team. We got here and found two survivors. There are four of us now.” He shrugged, but his expression was sober. “Could be more out there, surviving like we are.”

  “Where are your ships, your comms?” A setup like what he described didn’t come without support.

  “Those things out there… trust me, they watch and learn. They’re highly intelligent. They took out everything.”

  “Where are we? What planet is this?”

  “Erebus VII. I thought you said you were reconning the planet?”

  “We were. Had no idea what it was called. We don’t get military grade, updated maps like you guys.… Look, when my crew gets here, we’ll make sure everyone gets off the planet.”

  “And we’ll hold you to that,” the harsh voice from earlier said, approaching from the bend in the cave, rifle slung over his shoulder. Big guy with a bald head and beard. “Once you’re good enough to move around, you’ll pull your weight like everyone else.”

  “This is Corporal Southwell. I’m Lance Corporal Barnes, Aran Barnes.”

  “Ri—” And then she remembered. Giving her real name probably wasn’t the best idea.… “Riley. My name is Riley.”

  Southwell gestured for Barnes to join him and they disappeared back around the bend. Rion finished her broth and then curled on her side, trying like hell to ignore the aches and pains. And praying Ace found her, and quick.

  Sleep came again, but this time it was the kind she needed, deep and restorative. When she woke, she almost felt like normal—minus the small aches, bumps and bruises, and lingering hangover from the angler toxin. The four survivors came and went in the meantime.

  The next day passed in a blur of sleep and longer moments of wakefulness.

  She met the other two survivors, both scientists, a middle-aged man who barely left his cot—he’d undergone a field amputation several months ago—and the doctor who’d performed the emergency procedure, Dr. Mallory, who shared the cot next to hers. The doc was rail thin like the others, short, with a slight severity to her otherwise nice features. She had long brown hair shot with silver—Rion’s age, which made her wonder if those strands of silver had come from the nightmare she’d endured in this place.

  From the doctor, Rion also learned that ONI had discovered a Forerunner site on the planet.

  “We set up shop like usual, took all the precautions like usual,” she’d told Rion, staring off with a baffled expression. “I’ve been to plenty of inhospitable places way worse than this, but something about being here… it’s like the planet just doesn’t want you here.” Her smile was as rueful as the laugh that followed. “I know. And here I am, a scientist. Everything I am is grounded in fact. I lost a lot of good people. Friends…”

  “I’m sorry. It must have been…”

  “It was.”

  Rion was no scientist, but her expertise on all things Forerunner had grown by leaps and bounds with her travels, and especially with having an honest-to-goodness eyewitness to their history and culture as one of her crew. Everything she’d heard so far from these survivors… it was very possible the planet really didn’t want anyone here. It was certainly well within the Forerunners’ arsenal to create a place specifically designed to thwart visitors.

  “Barnes was saying you made a deterrent.”

  Rion tipped her bowl and drank the meager soup they were having for supper.

  “We found ultrasonic frequencies above one hundred and eighty thousand Hz deters them. It allowed us to leave the pods and find shelter elsewhere. We’d been studying them for about six weeks before things went south, had come across a nest of very young juveniles. There are caves all through the tablelands. The creatures use them to nest. We always see ourselves as the apex predator, don’t we? We never think that maybe some alien species we so casually take to the lab to study—without much thought to the consequences—might actually be very intelligent themselves, might actually fight back. When they did start hunting us… we did some horrible experiments on those juveniles. Lost over a dozen people in one night. Believe me, it was coordinated, and it was only the beginning.

  “The anglers, like their namesake, are very good at luring you in with their light and mimicry. Many died that way. And once the creatures realized we weren’t falling for it anymore, they resorted to systematically removing and destroying all of our satellite uplinks, comms stations, and then they started in on the power cores. I don’t know if any of our messages got out. But, a few months later, those guys showed up.” She gestured to the bend where Southwell and Barnes had gone.

  “And then it started all over again.”

  CHAPTER 33

  ONI Field Office

  Local P-NC-23

  October 13, 2558

  0340 STANDARD

  //INVESTIGATOR: KT-49683-9

  //FILE NO.: 335002-12571

  //SUBJECT: RAMSEY CHALVA

  //DOB: 11.19.2513

  //HOMEWORLD: KOMOYA

  //SESSION 4

  NOTES: Subject shows adequate increases in ambivalence, impatience, and aggression. Consistently fails PQI tests. Have requested Neural Marker 5 loan from Hannibal Weapons Systems.

  KT-49683-9: Why were you inside Hannibal Headquarters?

  RC-335002-
12571: You asked me that already. Repeatedly.

  KT-49683-9: What were you looking for?

  RC-335002-12571: Heard they have a great veggie taco in the cafeteria. [False]

  KT-49683-9: Who were you with?

  RC-335002-12571: You’re looking at him. [False]

  KT-49683-9: Where is the Artificial Intelligence known as 343 Guilty Spark?

  RC-335002-12571: Haven’t a clue. [Inconclusive]

  KT-49683-9: What is the nature of your relationship with 343 Guilty Spark?

  RC-335002-12571: Pretty tight. Might ask him to be my kid’s godfather. [Inconclusive. According to records, subject does not have children]

  KT-49683-9: He left you behind. How does that make you feel?

  RC-335002-12571: Proud. [True. Subject’s heart rate has increased. Blood pressure elevated. Exterior shows irritation. Summary: Regrets answering truthfully]

  KT-49683-9: Could you elaborate more on this feeling?

  RC-335002-12571: [Subject is laughing] Damn, man. You really want me to elaborate?

  KT-49683-9: Yes.

  RC-335002-12571: Okay. Well, I’m getting this big feeling… right here in my chest, you know? And it’s telling me I’d really, really love it if you bought a one-way ticket and took the fast track straight on to hell. [True]

  KT-49683-9: What is the nature of your relationship to the Ace of Spades crewmember Lessa?

  RC-335002-12571: You do know I was held captive and tortured by Sangheili extremists for seven weeks? My entire crew was tortured and killed. So keep on blabbing and wasting your time. [Note: Subject’s detained associate will be an effective leveraging tool.]

  KT-49683-9: Where is 343 Guilty Spark now?

  RC-335002-12571: Have no idea. [True]

  KT-49683-9: And Rion Forge?

  RC-335002-12571: Same, buddy. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before. And the day before that. I have no idea. [True]

  KT-49683-9: Thank you. That is all for today.