Hunters in the Dark (HALO)

by Peter David

  N’tho briefly surveyed the surrounding terrain. “Not at all,” he said flatly. “We approached from a different angle and by way of dropship the last time we were here. As we get closer to the citadel, no doubt more will become familiar.”

  “Let us walk,” Kola said. “My legs sicken of our complacency.”

  It was a figure of speech that showed the Elite wasn’t accustomed to waiting around for weaker humans and the problems that attended them. It made Luther uneasy. Kola’s tone suggested that they were simply strolling along some riverside. This was definitely not a stroll, nor was it a riverside. But then he realized that he had no idea what sort of weather Kola and the other Sangheili were accustomed to back on their own worlds. For all he knew, this was genuinely equivalent to a walk in the park for them.

  Luther kept a wary eye in front of him, wanting to avoid stepping into a snow-covered hole like Richards had. Anyplace where the snow appeared oddly thick was passed over as well. The last thing this splinter group needed was for another one of them to injure himself. If that happened, the other two would probably have to haul whoever back to the ship . . . and if it was any of the giant Sangheili that went down, then God help them all.

  They continued to make their way across the snowy plain. Luther shielded his eyes as best he could, focusing on the Ark’s core, which was still pretty far away. It was hard to judge just how much longer it would take, given the variability of the terrain. He felt as if they had been walking for ages and still weren’t getting anywhere fast. Especially with the significant temperature drop since they first set out.

  Something bounded around his feet. “What the hell?” he murmured.

  The Spartan heard him and turned to see what had caught Luther’s attention. He muttered, “What . . . ?” and now the Sangheili, who had been walking ahead of them and maintaining their steady stride, stopped as well to see what they were looking at.

  It was a small, white creature that bore a resemblance to a rabbit, except for the leathery alabaster wings extending from either side of its body. It was sniffing around Luther’s feet and, apparently, upon Luther staring bug-eyed at it, began to flap those wings. Within seconds it had risen to Luther’s eye level and was studying him with open curiosity.

  “I’ll be damned,” Luther said in a low voice. Then he reached toward the creature.

  “Don’t touch it,” Kodiak warned him. “We have no idea what that thing might do.”

  “I’ll take the chance,” said Luther. He saw Kodiak then, out of the corner of his eye, raise his rifle and take aim. Clearly if the thing made the slightest aggressive move, Kodiak was prepared to blow it to hell.

  Luther slowly brought his hand up to indicate that he meant no harm, then gently moved it onto the creature’s head and slid his palm over it. The flittering thing made a low sound that seemed akin to a purr. Taking that as a good sign, Luther continued to pet the creature. Its wings sped up and it bobbed up and down for long seconds.

  Then it pivoted and hurtled away, back into the snow.

  “That was . . . intriguing,” said Luther.

  Kodiak had already lost interest. “At least it didn’t try to kill us. I consider that a plus. Beyond that, it really doesn’t matter.”

  They started walking again.

  Luther was certain that the snow was coming down even harder now. Despite his tendency to resist the environment, he was nevertheless starting to lose feeling in his feet, and wondered if he was possibly in danger of having some of his extremities freeze out.

  Then the ground under him shook. The unexpected movement startled him as he fell to the ground, throwing his arms out to either side to try to catch himself. The Sangheili didn’t appear the least put out, but Kodiak had to stop in order to prevent himself from tumbling. “What was that?” said the Spartan.

  There was another rumble then, and another. It was slow and steady, getting progressively louder.

  “I think . . . I think something’s coming toward us,” said Luther as he stumbled to his feet, brushing snow off his legs. “Something really big.”

  “Of course. Perhaps we should push forward to meet it head-on,” said Zon.

  That was not a suggestion Luther was especially interested in hearing. “Maybe we should hide,” he said.

  “Hide?” Kola asked, genuinely taken aback by the suggestion. “Where would you hide exactly, human?”

  It was a perfectly valid question. They were in the middle of a vast, frozen plain, with nothing around to secure themselves behind, and the Elites didn’t seem very keen on the idea of favoring flight over fight. Their only real hope was the steady snow drifting down, which could possibly blind any approaching foe, but it wasn’t something that they could count on for perfect camouflage.

  The ground continued to quake underneath them, and then the cause separated itself from the snow ahead of them.

  It bore a passing resemblance to an elephant, but it too was covered with white fur, much like the other creatures had been. It stood at least five meters tall as it walked slowly toward them on its four massive legs. It had a lengthy trunk that dangled from the front of its face, swaying slowly with each stride it took. Four alarmingly large tusks slung upward from its jaw, jutting out on both sides of its trunk and proving that it could easily gore the entire group if it was capable of charging. It made no vocalization as it approached, but it didn’t have to: the sound of the ground rumbling from the impact tremors of each step was more than enough.

  “Don’t move,” N’tho said in a low voice.

  “I honestly wasn’t even thinking about it,” replied Luther.

  Spartan Kodiak had his battle rifle out, but held it at the ready, in a distinctly defensive position. While Luther appreciated the thought, he wasn’t sure if it would accomplish anything against the massive beast that was steadily approaching. If Kodiak actually succeeded in making a perfect shot to the creature’s cranium, and all that managed to do was annoy it, the newcomer would reduce them to large red streaks in the snow.

  “Did you come across this many animals in your previous trip?” Luther asked N’tho, genuinely curious about the seemingly endless menagerie they’d encountered.

  “No. Not even one.”

  Despite the hostile climate and degrading conditions, this part of the Ark seemed to be teeming with all manner of life. Why? The answer eluded Luther, but there had to be a reason.

  The creature came thundering within twenty meters of them and stopped. That was when Luther noticed something, and he tapped Kodiak on the shoulder and pointed. Kodiak nodded the moment he spotted it.

  It was the rabbitlike life-form, fluttering around the white mammoth creature’s head and making loud squeaking noises. It seemed for all the world like it was actually talking to the giant.

  The beast huffed and then, very slowly, sank to its knees. The two humans and the Sangheili watched in confusion as it extended its trunk toward them. They continued to stand there, staring at it, unsure of what they were supposed to do.

  Then, slowly and cautiously, Luther started toward the creature.

  “Where are you going?” demanded Kodiak.

  He made a move to pull Luther back but was waved off. As Luther’s feet sank into the snow, he told himself that he was doing the right thing. That the creature wouldn’t go berserk or bludgeon him with its tusks and fling him to his death across the snowy plain. Oddly enough, the aspect that bothered Luther the most was the thought of looking stupid in front of his companions.

  Luther was impressed by the warmth radiating from this creature, and it seemed genuinely harmless, like the flying whales they’d encountered earlier. He kept walking until he was right next to it, and as he did with the floating rabbit, slowly extended his hand and touched its head. He stroked it a few times, although he did it so delicately that he wasn’t sure the beast was even feeling anything.

  Then he gasped as something suddenly wound around his waist. It was the beast’s elephantine trunk, and for a
moment, his entire nightmare scenario came to the fore.

  Slowly Luther was raised into the air. “Go loose!” shouted Kodiak, bringing his weapon up.

  “No!” shouted Luther. “Don’t do anything! I think . . . just wait! Don’t do anything!”

  Kodiak froze, but kept a bead on the mammoth, aiming squarely at its head. Luther didn’t like the odds of what might happen if Kodiak actually fired off a shot. Even if the Spartan managed to kill it, the beast’s death spasms might well be enough to crush Luther.

  The creature was continuing to raise him up and then, very delicately, it lowered him onto its back. Luther straddled it in surprise, finding the beast’s back fur somewhat comfortable.

  Slowly Kodiak lowered his weapon, staring in astonishment.

  The creature then shifted its gaze to rest on the Spartan and the Sangheili.

  “Come on!” Luther shouted, gesturing to them. “I think it wants you to get on too!”

  “You cannot be serious,” said Zon.

  “I’m completely serious! Don’t you get it? It came for us! Something sent it!”

  “Maybe something hostile,” said Kodiak.

  “No, because if it were hostile, this thing would have already obliterated us. Don’t you see? Not everything here has to signal an attack. Maybe we need to take this one on faith.”

  “You want us to place our faith in some unseen force that has command over small-brained animals?” asked N’tho.

  “That’s exactly right, unless you have a better idea. If this thing wanted to kill us, we’d already be dead. Plus the temperature is dropping out here faster than we expected, and I’m becoming less thrilled with our odds,” said Luther. “There’s a reason we’ve run into so many creatures here. It can’t be coincidence. Something is directing them, and that something might be able to help us. So I say you get on this damn monster, would you, please?”

  The Sangheili and Kodiak exchanged looks. Then N’tho shrugged and strode toward the beast. Kola and Zon quickly followed, with Kodiak bringing up the rear, obviously having no desire to be the only one left behind.

  N’tho came up to the side of the mammoth, grabbed a handful of its fur, and pulled himself upward. The creature did not appear to react in pain. Instead it simply looked at him with a hint of indifference. The other Sangheili then followed suit.

  Kodiak was right behind the Elite. He likewise scrambled on top, pulling on the creature’s furry coat for support as he hauled himself upward. Moments later, he was sitting between Luther and N’tho, with the other three Sangheili behind him.

  Meanwhile, the Huragok floated toward them. The cold air did not appear to be impacting Drifts Randomly at all. The wind was blowing its tentacles around and snow was crusting on the Engineer’s upper body, but it didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. Luther felt envious of it. Apparently a Huragok didn’t have to worry about hypothermia.

  He wondered what would happen if the alien mammoth just remained exactly where it was, unmoving. How long would they stay perched upon it before acknowledging that he had been completely wrong and it was just settling down for a rest?

  But then, much to Luther’s relief, the creature slowly became mobile once more, the sudden vibrations rattling him to his core. He held on for dear life and would have slid off were it not for Kodiak grabbing Luther from behind, steadying him so that he remained safely atop.

  There was a low growling from nearby and Luther felt his blood go cold. It was the blind bipeds from earlier . . . or at least a couple of them. They were now approaching the mammoth.

  The giant beast stretched its trunk and produced an earsplitting bellow so loud that even the Sangheili covered their earholes. Luther felt the creature’s lungs resonate between his legs.

  Their attackers promptly backed off. For a moment, Luther thought they would converge on the mammoth and try to take it down, but he was relieved to see that fear overrode the pack mentality; they were retreating and slinking away into the blowing snow.

  Something is definitely going on here, Luther thought. There’s more here than just blind randomness at play. The animal behavior, the strange illusion with the trees, Vale’s disappearance—something else has to be at work.

  The mammoth was now walking with slow strides, the ground rumbling beneath them. Luther had to admit it was rather impressive. He far preferred being on this end of the noise-making machine. For the time being, it was headed in the direction they had been, which added to the general oddity of this event.

  “Where do you think it’s taking us?” said Kodiak.

  Luther turned his head and said: “I’m not entirely sure.”

  “Such a strange thing,” N’tho said. “It obviously has a sense of destination. I suppose it’s possible that it is being guided by the Oracle of the Ark.”

  “The what?” said Kodiak.

  It was Luther who replied, shouting back: “The Ark may have an active AI on it. The Covenant called it an Oracle. The Forerunners referred to it as an ancilla, or, in this case, a monitor. It’s like a caretaker or custodian, helping maintain the installation for extremely long spans of time. Most Forerunner installations such as this have a monitor, though all of our previous records indicate that there was no sign of one when humans came here in ’52. It isn’t impossible, however, that one does exist and that the artificial intelligence is somehow communicating with the creatures that reside on the surface.”

  “So you’re suggesting that the AI is telling the local wildlife what to do?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You do realize they attacked us at first.”

  “Yes,” Luther said slowly. “That fact did occur to me.”

  “So you’re asking us to possibly trust the actions of something that tried to kill us outright.”

  “I suppose I am,” said Luther.

  “Perfect,” said Kodiak. “I’m sure it’ll work out just fine.”

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  Henry Lamb, Spartan Holt, and Usze ‘Taham were having much difficulty getting across the snowy vista. Lamb, in particular, found his breath coming heavily, large white puffs of mist drifting raggedly from his mouth.

  The greater issue, however, was that it was becoming increasingly difficult to track Olympia Vale’s path. As the snow continued to whirl around them, it was harder to discern the tracks now being filled in by the storm.

  “This is getting problematic,” Usze said. “What do we do if we cannot continue to track her?”

  “Technically, if we keep heading in this direction,” Lamb said firmly, “it will take us where we want to go: toward the communications array at the edge of the foundry, the citadel. So even if she deviates from this path, we want to maintain it. At least we’d reconnect with the other team.” He hated saying it, because he had come to feel rather fond of Vale, but priorities remained priorities.

  “What’s the foundry again?” said Holt.

  Lamb turned to him, speaking with confidence. If there was one thing he was comfortable discussing, it was the technology of the Forerunners. “It’s a facility used to construct Halo installations, the same ones that are currently counting down—ironically, whatever drew Vale off seems to be headed in that direction.”

  “Wonderful,” said Holt. “Didn’t think this op could get any stranger.”

  They continued walking.

  Vale’s tracks eventually vanished completely. If she’d changed her approach now, they would never be able to find her. Nevertheless they kept moving forward, hoping that they would be able to pick up her trail again.

  They had long lost sight of the other travelers on their rangefinder as well and were now completely on their own. The last report they had received from the captain was that her leg had been seriously injured and she was headed back to the ship, but their close-band comm unit had performed poorly since, presumably due to the weather. The last two times Holt attempted to contact Kodiak, he hadn’t be able to reach him, which is exactly what Lamb had
feared would happen.

  The snow was now coming down harder, and Lamb did everything he could to shield his eyes from it. Despite the thermal gear that had protected him earlier, he now felt his body temperature dropping, and his muscles were aching horribly. The environment was getting thicker, claustrophobic, and he was starting to think that this had all been a horrible mistake.

  Then he noticed that the ground was starting to angle upward. That struck him as rather odd. Not only that, but it seemed as if the snow was tapering off here. Lamb stomped down several times and discovered that the consistency of the ground was changing; it felt harder. He knelt down and brushed away the crust of the snow and discovered that there was something gray and perfectly flat beneath it.

  “This is manufactured, it’s not natural stone,” he said. “Technically, everything is artificial out here, but this is different. It’s some kind of floor.”

  “You are correct,” said Usze, running his big four-fingered hand across it.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Holt asked.

  “It means we are getting closer. Unfortunately,” the Elite added grimly, “we seem to have completely lost track of Olympia Vale. Yet it may well be that she’s being brought to the core, perhaps even the very citadel we seek.”

  “Let’s hope,” Lamb said.

  As they moved forward, the gray, metallic floor became more and more prominent and the snow started to recede, both in the air and on the ground. It was a strange phenomenon, almost like passing through a curtain or veil. And as the flurried obfuscation suddenly lessened, it revealed that they had made their way to the height of a large wall, one that looked out onto the Ark’s foundry and the distant mining moon at the very center. Off to the right, Lamb could just barely make out the citadel’s center spire in the distance, an angular tower that hung over the lip of the foundry. Most of the citadel was hidden well behind a large mountainous ridge that protected it, but the sight made his throat clench up in suppressed satisfaction—they were actually getting closer.