by Peter David
There was no denying the steady nature of Drifts Randomly’s work, though. Aside from conversing with Luther Mann, the Huragok was incapable of being distracted from its assignment. Unfortunately, it also seemed oddly incapable of presenting any manner of prediction as to when its task would be completed. When asked about this, the Huragok did not even answer; instead its tentacle would shimmy in what appeared to be a Huragok approximation of a shrug. This was a bit startling to N’tho and Usze ‘Taham since the other Huragok they had encountered prior had never seemed to have this emotional output as part of their physical repertoire. They had no idea whether it was a gesture that they had simply never noticed before or if the Huragok had somehow picked it up from the observing humans. And if it was the latter, N’tho found that particularly disconcerting.
Deciding that he needed to remove his mind from concerns over the apparent lack of progress, N’tho opted to get some training in. It had been a while since he had taken practice in the warrior arts. And given all that had taken place on the Ark when he was last there, it was unlikely that anyone could foretell what lay on the other side of the portal, whether for good or for ill. So it was much preferable to be prepared rather than caught unready.
N’tho found himself a relatively private area, a clearing some distance away from his dropship, and a little farther away from the incredibly vast disk that was the Forerunner artifact. There were some trees and brush nearby but nothing else. He began by doing some steady breathing exercises, slowing down his pulse until he had reached a point of inner peace. Then he proceeded to the actual physical manifestation—he whirled in place, activating and spinning his double-edged plasma sword around him in an elegant arc. Energy crackled as he moved this way and that in a delicate series of patterns. In his head, he was seeing enemies coming in from all sides, and he was combating them with practiced ease. Block, parry, block, thrust, one move following the next in a smooth motion. He began slowly at first, but the longer he continued, the faster he became. So much so, in fact, that the casual bystander may have had difficulty keeping an eye on the sword at all.
He lost track of how long he practiced. But he was suddenly aware of an observer. Having no idea whether the newcomer was hostile or not, he kept his blade extended as he spun around to see the new arrival.
It was one of the human soldiers—the Spartan he had encountered his first day here. He had not seen him since, and now he was fully adorned in the customary armor of kind, minus his helmet. The armor of demons. What was his name again . . . ?
“You are . . . Kodiak?” said N’tho. Slowly he lowered the blade. “Spartan Kodiak, yes?”
“That’s correct,” said Kodiak.
Kodiak then proceeded to say nothing. But it was what he was holding in his hand that instantly captured N’tho’s interest.
It was a plasma blade, but slightly different from the one that N’tho was wielding. The weapon Kodiak held was of the Covenant stock, aesthetically designed by the Prophets, whereas N’tho and Usze were using a much more rugged vintage of energy blades, harkening ancient Sangheili heritage, of which there had been a philosophical resurgence after the war.
“Where did you acquire that?” said N’tho slowly.
“Where do you think?”
“From the body of a dead Elite, would be my supposition.”
“That’s right. Does it bother you that I’ve killed your kind?”
“In the course of war? Death happens. It is the price and custom of warfare. My only hope would be that his death was honorable.”
“Oh yes. I’m all about honor.”
He ignited the weapon and the blade snapped to life with such immediacy and force that N’tho was momentarily startled by it, mostly by the fact that the human dared to wield it near him. “Have a care,” N’tho said. “It is not a weapon designed for humans, and you could injure yourself.”
“Do you have a problem with a human wielding it?”
Something in Kodiak’s tone caused N’tho to feel defensive, but he had no idea why he should. Certainly this soldier wasn’t a threat. They were working toward the same goal, after all, united in their cause to stop the Halo rings from firing. And there had now been, for some time, a peace treaty in place between their races. What possible danger could this human pose?
“No, of course I do not have a problem with that.”
N’tho took several steps to the right and noticed that Kodiak promptly took several to his left. He was countering N’tho’s moves, as if they were engaging in combat. N’tho considered that odd; nevertheless, he kept his defenses up although he had no idea why that should be necessary. “What are you doing, Spartan Kodiak?”
“I was simply admiring your fighting style.”
“Indeed. There are many techniques that the Sangheili have mastered that are not familiar to humans.”
“Really. Would you be willing to teach them to me?”
“I am not certain that doing so while wielding live weapons would be advisable.”
Kodiak seemed to draw himself up. “I’m a Spartan,” he said. “We only train with live weapons.”
He was casually sweeping his blade back and forth, as if loosening up his arm.
“Very well. As you wish.” N’tho continued to move. He was doing so in a deliberately casual fashion and watching how Kodiak responded, as if they were already sparring. “I am now curious as to the exact circumstances under which you acquired your blade.”
“Attempting to distract your opponent is a common ploy,” said Kodiak. “Perhaps later I’ll provide details.”
“I can understand your hesitation. Those were brutal times,” said N’tho. “We all did many things that we are not proud of.”
“Everything that I did was in the interest of protecting my people from the Covenant. If I had to, I would do it again.”
“It must give you great peace of mind to have such a lack of scrutiny over your own actions.”
“You’re aware we weren’t the ones picking the fight to begin with, right? You came and attacked us. And billions died.”
“Those times are past, and now we are allies.”
The Spartan said nothing. Instead he suddenly came right at N’tho, swinging the sword around and aiming straight at his head.
N’tho brought his own sword up quickly, barely managing to deflect the blow. Energy rippled from the blades, shaking N’tho’s so violently that he nearly dropped it. He was able to maintain his grip, but it was a near thing. This human was surprisingly strong.
Kodiak took a step back and then whipped his blade back around, cutting low. Again N’tho was able to intercept. His practiced mind was dissecting Kodiak’s assault, analyzing it so that he could be ready for the next move.
It proved to be more difficult than he thought. The Spartan, unlike most who N’tho had battled, wasn’t operating in any sort of pattern. He was coming at the Sangheili with a variety of cuts and slashes that were seemingly at random. No strategy, no plan. Just incessant attacking generated by—
By what? What could be going through the Spartan’s mind that would prompt him to attack N’tho—an ally—in this manner?
Because this was most definitely no training exercise, or some practice session. The Spartan had shown up looking for a fight, and it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t holding back.
They circled each other, both of them now more cautious. “Would you like to tell me what this is all about, human?” said N’tho.
“We’re just practicing,” said Kodiak, and then he charged once more. N’tho backed up, blocking each thrust, becoming more frustrated that he was unable to determine any manner of consistent attack pattern. The Spartan was, as the human colloquialism said, all over the place.
“No, we’re not,” said N’tho. “You are being less than candid with me.”
The plasma swords slammed together, again and again. N’tho felt no fear in combat situations, which was a normal state of being for him. If matters were to go agains
t him, he would simply find a way to compensate. As a Sangheili, his eventual triumph was never in doubt.
But the Spartan wasn’t slowing down, and showed no sign of fatigue, as a typical human did during a protracted battle. If anything, his foe’s strength seemed to be increasing.
It made no sense. What did this human have against him?
And as his mind raced, a thought occurred to N’tho—a possibility that would go a long way toward explaining the man’s undeniable fury.
Kodiak lunged and N’tho sidestepped, causing the human to miss his Sangheili opponent. N’tho spun and swung his sword around, but the Spartan recovered with incredible speed, blocking the Elite’s attack. The plasma swords crackled against each other and the two warriors froze in position, pushing against each other, their blades trembling from the protracted contact.
“We’ve fought before, have we not?” said N’tho.
The Spartan didn’t reply.
“I thought as much. You should know that I cannot recall ever meeting you in battle. So tell me, human: What did I do to you?”
Kodiak suddenly stepped back, moving so quickly that N’tho stumbled slightly before righting himself. Without a word Kodiak decoupled and yanked off his armored gauntlet, and the gleam of his metal hand shone in N’tho’s eyes. He clicked his fingers together; it sounded oddly like a soft ore bell used by Sangheili children for play, but not quite clanging.
“The entire arm?” said N’tho slowly.
Kodiak nodded.
Suddenly N’tho moved quickly. He stepped forward and swept his leg between the Spartan, knocking him off his feet. Kodiak fell heavily but didn’t stay on the ground; instead he rolled several feet away and then sprang upward, once more facing N’tho.
“You want to kill me,” said N’tho, with softness that surprised even him. “I suppose I do not blame you. I cannot allow it, of course, but your thirst for vengeance is understandable. So what do you want? My life? Is that the only thing that will suffice?”
“I’m a Spartan,” said Kodiak. “I’m a soldier and I’m trained to complete my mission, no matter the cost. Killing you would be in violation of that mission.”
“Are you telling me you won’t? Or are you explaining to me the rules that you are about to ignore?”
Kodiak began to respond, but his next words were not to be heard, because at that moment the world around them exploded.
Luther Mann was fairly certain that he had no reason to look forward to the meeting on Captain Richards’s insistence, and now it was turning out that his concerns were justified.
He and Henry Lamb were seated opposite the captain, who was standing behind her desk and leaning forward on her fists—a rather aggressive posture, which further added to Luther’s concern.
“Do you have any idea,” Richards was saying to him, “how much scrutiny is on this project right now? I’ve got UNSC branch heads and ONI brass breathing down my neck and we’re two days in with zero progress. Explain, doctor!”
Luther opened his mouth to respond, but was cut short.
“Or do you know how many people we have employed here? Engineers, technicians, security?”
“From my understanding, most recently, the tally has climbed to two hundred and twenty seven.”
“Then you must know that leveraging this many assets for an ONI project without any results is not a good scenario for us. Not for me. And certainly not for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I’m aware,” said Luther.
Richards didn’t seem to have heard him. “Listen, Doctor, my job here is pretty straightforward. I’m to direct the efforts to bring the Excession artifact online, and you two are the ones who are actually supposed to be making it happen. Once you achieve that, I’m to take our team aboard the Endeavor and bring it through the portal safely, at which point we’ll be relying exclusively on you two once again.”
“I’m aware of that, too,” Luther assured her. “I attended two separate briefings before I came here. I know what is supposed to happen, Captain.”
“But that’s not what’s happening,” Richards said as if Luther hadn’t even spoken. “If we can’t even trust you two to get the portal back online, then how the hell do you expect me to be comfortable with you having any part in the operation once we get groundside on the Ark? This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, Doctor Mann. Getting the Excession online is the easy part of this whole gig. You two better hope that this is really an end-of-the-world scenario . . . because if it’s not, ONI’s going to make us all wish it were.”
Luther simply sat there and stared at her.
“What?” she said impatiently.
When he spoke, his voice was filled with sympathy. “I cannot even imagine what you are going through right now, Captain Richards. I know who your superiors are. I know the reports that you have to be making back to them right now. None of it is positive. You are reporting, to people who have trusted you, that thus far this project is getting nowhere, and they are coming down on you like the hammers of hell.”
“My pressures are none of your concern, Doctor.”
“They very much are,” said Luther, “especially if you are coming to me now and making declarations of what is going to happen and you are clearly barely holding yourself together.”
“Doctor—”
“I believe I was speaking, Captain, and it is also my understanding that your superiors would want you to hear my words in this matter. May I continue?”
Her jaw worked for a moment, but only instead of saying everything that was running through her mind, so she kept it to herself and simply nodded.
Luther stared at her for a bit and then said, “She’s nine.”
Richards blinked, not understanding. “I’m sorry?”
“She’s nine. My little girl. Her name is Theresa. The result of an incredibly exciting six-week relationship with her mother in college—”
Luther allowed a small smile at the thought. He would fully admit that he didn’t have much congress with the opposite sex during that time, but Ramona was . . . well, she was quite something else. She crushed his defenses like no woman before or since, which, he thought, wasn’t really difficult since there hadn’t been any other woman before or since. Six weeks, and then she was expelled because of a magnificent practical joke that she played on the dean. And she left. Luther offered to go with her, because he was young and foolish and Ramona was intelligent enough to know that it was a stupid idea. So he remained in school, and a year later she sent him a picture of her with a baby that he had no idea even existed. My baby. My Theresa.
He tried to find her and had no luck doing so. Ramona told him that she existed out of . . . generosity, he supposed. But she didn’t want to impinge on his life, and she never gave Luther the opportunity to tell her that he wanted to be a part of it.
“I’ve never held her, never spoken to her. Never touched her. But like any parent, I want the world, the sun, and the stars for her. And I will be damned, Captain,” and his voice was trembling, “if I am going to let all sentient life in the galaxy end before she has a chance to live her own. Do you understand? I don’t really give much of a damn what happens to me, but I am going to do it for her. I am not going to let Halo activate, and I need you to trust me on that.”
She put up her hands and he promptly fell silent. She took in a deep breath and let out a sigh. “All right, Doctor,” she said, “let’s—”
It was at that moment that the captain’s comm unit went off. She glanced at it and her expression immediately changed. “Excuse me,” she said, and tapped it. “Richards here. Go ahead.”
Vale was unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “Captain, this is Vale. The Huragok was successful. The portal has been activated and is coming online right now.”
Richards’s jaw fell open in astonishment, but before she could say anything, there came a distant humming, and then the walls around them vibrated.
It was quite obvious that somethin
g huge was powering up.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“Just think,” said Henry, turning to Luther. “Five more minutes and you could have saved that whole speech.”
Luther ignored Lamb’s caustic effort at humor and attempted to keep his voice level and calm. “It would probably be best if I get to the site and supervise the—”
And that was when all hell broke loose.
Usze ‘Taham found Olympia Vale to be one of the more interesting humans that he had ever encountered.
At one point, she told him about a very important thing that had happened to her when she was a child. When she was eleven years old, by human reckoning, her parents “divorced,” a concept completely foreign in Sangheili culture, and one that needed to be explained in detail to Usze. Her mother, who was rising in the ranks of Navy signal intelligence (another foreign concept), had been promoted to captain and was on her way to her reassignment on Earth. But their trip home had gone terribly awry when the slipspace drive had failed, and a journey that should have taken six days instead became six months.
The ship’s crew had consisted of three people plus little Olympia, and they had gone nearly insane with her incessant questions. Eventually she was shunted aside and left on her own. To occupy her time, she had taught herself the Sangheili language by listening to recordings and comparing them to AI translations, some of which she eventually proved were wrong. Evidently, this was a remarkable thing for any human to do, no less one so young.
That had been the beginning of her obsession with the Sangheili race.
If that wasn’t enough to find her interesting, nothing was.
The Huragok was deep in another section of the artifact, one that, to be honest, seemed almost indistinguishable from any of the others, so far as Usze was concerned. He did notice that there were far fewer glyphs lining the walls here, that much was certain. There was also more twisted, ancient circuitry in this place. When he had originally come down there hours earlier, the circuits had seemed dead. But now streams of light were slowly pulsing through them.
Usze took a moment to glance at the Huragok. Its tentacles were continuing in an endless series of movements that made sense only to the mostly silent creature. Truth be told, Usze had an aversion to the Huragok. He didn’t understand how they worked or functioned or viewed the world around them—all they did was repair, and he couldn’t imagine being that singly focused on any activity. But he decided not to concern himself about it. As long as the Engineer was continuing to do its assigned task, why should a Sangheili worry about it?
