by Peter David
They finally stepped completely out of the snow, and the first thing that Lamb noticed was that the ground actually felt warmer. That was certainly an interesting sensation—amazingly, the temperature was starting to change, and it seemed to be coming from beneath him.
Lamb pulled out his optics device and took a closer look around them. He could now see the citadel’s single spire clearly, at least its highest point. It was surrounded by a large ridgeline that rose from an even larger body of water, with a trio of impressively sized pylons climbing out of the rock walls and forming three prongs. According to data acquired from Forward Unto Dawn, the pylons were capable of projecting a powerfully resistive energy barrier that could prevent any and all access to the citadel, even against the firepower of a Covenant capital ship. Lamb wondered if that’d be a problem this time, and then he started to take notice of his immediate surroundings. Just below the top of the wall they found themselves on, the land slung out toward the very lip of the foundry, about ten kilometers away. It looked temperate, maybe even warm, a complete shift from the conditions just twenty meters behind them.
“Were you expecting it to get this warm?” he asked Usze.
“No,” said Usze, nodding in the citadel’s direction. “Two years ago, we traveled across that large sea,” he said, pointing to an enormous body of water that skirted the ridge that surrounded the citadel. Lamb could see that large sections of that sea were now frozen over, covered in thick sheets of ice and buried in dense snowfall. The other team would likely come very near this body of water, if not directly across it. “We and the humans took dropships and were deployed along the beach there,” he pointed. “After we deactivated the shield-distributing towers, the Demon—your Master Chief—led us into the interior hub that surrounded the citadel. It was there that we made the final stand against the Covenant, seized the citadel, and stopped Halo from firing.”
Lamb took in a long breath. It was hard to believe that he was nearing the same place that the final battle between humans and the Covenant occurred, where the Master Chief prevented the Array from firing. History was repeating itself, and the weight of the fact that he was playing a role in it made him shudder.
“Is that what I think it is?” Lamb asked, pointing to a huge mass of debris, even more alien than the Ark’s surface, about fifty kilometers around the circular foundry. It looked like a mountain of blacks and grays, though clearly not part of the installation.
“High Charity,” Usze said, “the Covenant Holy City. When the Flood had taken full control of it, the parasite used it to get here. That’s why your Master Chief fired the unfinished Halo at this place. To stop the Flood from dominating the Ark, and thereby cutting off any chance of its spreading across the galaxy.”
Lamb spent a full minute taking in the incredible scale of the debris, imagining what it might have been like to see High Charity in its prime. The group then pressed on along the wall to a place where it appeared to connect to a ridge leading back to the ground.
Around their feet, the snow had melted away completely, but as they moved further, it slowly became impossible for Lamb to see the material that composed the massive wall. Instead large patches of dirt were now becoming visible, and Lamb noticed that bright-green moss was beginning to appear around rocks and across the stony ground. He considered that to be a positive sign. It meant, to some degree, that the climate had been temperate here for a significant period of time.
“This isn’t just weather change,” said Lamb. “It’s environmental, and not passive. We’re going from one climatic zone to another. That makes me think that the weather conditions are entirely artificial and being actively controlled by a system or some distributed intelligence. The strange thing is that there was no record of a localized AI on this installation, at least from what was recovered from Forward Unto Dawn. I don’t think it’s something we were really anticipating.”
“Anticipate anything,” said Usze. He was kneeling, studying the ground. Then slowly he nodded. “Yes, she came through here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can see traces of not only her, but pieces of ground that were chipped by the claws of the creature accompanying her.”
“Looks like she headed down the ridge there,” Holt said, pointing down a narrow ridgeline that descended into a heavy cluster of foliage largely comprised of incredibly tall evergreen-like trees. It gradually grew in density, and farther down became a large forest that hemmed in this particular section of the circular foundry and a steep mountain ridge off to the right. Just beyond that wooded area lay a short mountain hike to the citadel.
“So that’s good,” said Lamb. “It means we’re on the right track.”
“So far. But I am . . .”
Usze’s voice trailed off. Slowly the Sangheili rose to his feet, and when Lamb started to ask him what was wrong, Usze promptly silenced him.
“We are not alone,” Usze finally whispered, smoothly removing his plasma sword from against his thigh and immediately activating it. Power rippled up and down the blade. Holt lifted his battle rifle in response, scanning the immediate surroundings through its sight.
“Who else is here?” asked Lamb quietly.
“I am uncertain. But there is—”
Suddenly Holt shouted, “There!” and pointed toward a row of trees that was a short distance away. Directly in front of them, the air distorted and pinched together, before four pockets of light snapped into existence. To Lamb, it was immediately clear that it was some sort of localized phasing or teleportation portal.
Something was emerging from each portal, and although it had the general shape of a biped, even a human, it was clearly not anything of the sort. Composed almost entirely of a metallic alloy-like substance, these robotic-looking constructs had the same posture and frame as a human, even down to the orientation of their plated musculature. Nevertheless, they clearly displayed the Forerunner design aesthetics, with eccentric bevels, angular apertures, and floating accoutrements; their bodies were lithe yet still formidably armored, standing upright at nearly a meter taller than Spartan Holt. Though difficult to discern at this range, their faces appeared to be symmetrical plates of the same kind of alloy, with two discernible glowing eyes that matched a number of slight breaches in and around the armor. Lamb suspected some kind of hard-light composition beneath, rigidly holding the components together.
And they had weapons. Stave-like devices with a geometrical blade of hard light at the end. They did not look friendly.
Does every goddamn thing around here have to be hostile? Lamb thought.
There were at least four of them that could be seen, all now charging in the direction of Lamb, Holt, and Usze.
“It’s always something,” said Lamb.
“Get behind me!” said Holt, and he began firing in the direction of the enemies. Lamb, however, did not retreat. He still had his weapon from their earlier battle against the creatures, and instead of hiding behind the Spartan, he stood next to him and opened fire. The handgun he used was surprisingly powerful, exploding with every round as he struggled to maintain its concussive jostling. Holt glanced briefly at him and, although Lamb couldn’t be certain, he thought he glimpsed silent approval in the Spartan’s helmet visor.
The blasts from their weapons collided with the oncoming combatants.
Lamb was worried that they would absorb the impact and continue forward with no problem. Instead the two closest spun their staves with lightning speed, remarkably blocking the incoming fire. But then the air around them seemed to bend again, and with a sudden snap of light they disappeared. The other two, however, persisted.
Usze had already burst forward, his energy sword extended to the side as he ran. It was extremely impressive to see a Sangheili run at full speed. Even with full armor on, he quickly closed the gap between him and their enemies. Holt followed at a slower pace, trying to get a bead on them, while Lamb trailed just behind, occasionally releasing a shot or two.
; Usze slammed into the nearest being shoulder first, bringing up his sword to block the parry from the second. The Sangheili was suddenly in the heat of battle with the Forerunner machines, fending and attacking with his blade as they used their staves in surprisingly efficient coordination. The combat was a blur of light and armor, with the occasional spark and sizzle of blades coming into contact with each other. Usze was too close to the enemies for Holt to get a viable shot off, but the Spartan kept his rifle up, staring carefully down its sight and methodically strafing like a seasoned hunter. Lamb, meanwhile, wondered if the other two had disappeared for good, or if they were just waiting for their chance to strike.
With a sudden show of force, Usze severed the arm of one of the Forerunner machines, and then raked the blade up along the thing’s neck, popping the robotic head off with a sudden, cracking burst of hard light. The other machine, however, managed to kick Usze hard in the side, sending the Elite into the air and across the ground, his energy sword skittering to a stop several meters out of reach.
The Forerunner machine lifted its stave high in the air, preparing to bring the weapon down hard on the Elite. Before it could exact its hit, it was prevented by a three-round burst of bullets slamming into its robotic head with a loud impact sound, bringing the machine down to its knees, before falling over onto its side.
Holt reloaded his rifle and slapped it onto his armored back, moving steadily toward Usze with Lamb right behind. “What are those things?” he asked, helping the Sangheili up onto his feet.
“Looks like some kind of Forerunner defensive machine, but I’ve never encountered anything like it before in my work,” Lamb said, still looking around for a sign of the other two.
“Keep moving,” Usze said in a low voice, retrieving and deactivating his sword.
The three of them made their way quickly along the ground, heading into the wooded area, in the direction that Vale seemed to have gone. As they moved through the forest, which quickly grew denser the farther they went, they noticed a ridge of mountains climbing up behind the landscape off to their far right, but it was impossible to see it clearly from their position. It looked steep and incredibly rocky, but it was likely the same ridge that connected to the mountainous territory surrounding the citadel. They chose to ignore it, however, continuing through the heavily wooded area, which was less steep, and heading toward where they perceived the foundry to be, although the incline to their right came closer and closer, until they were running along the very foot of the mountain.
A sudden and loud snap could be heard from above, and then a tree at least thirty meters high sagged and slowly tumbled down toward them. This was immediately problematic, as they were now at the bottom of a sharp incline, hedged in by boulders and large chunks of stony detritus. On the incline of the mountain, the two remaining Forerunner machines stood, now bearing what appeared to be long marksman-like energy rifles—though they seemed in no hurry to use them, despite holding the higher ground. It was clear, however, that they were responsible for the tree that now threatened the group.
“Run!” shouted Holt, though he didn’t really have to; Lamb and Usze were already racing ahead. The damaged tree hit the ground and started to roll downward, branches shattering beneath the massive trunk as it kept on coming, gaining speed with each passing moment.
Lamb tripped over an upturned root and fell forward. Panic and thoughts of certain death slammed through his mind. Then something hauled him up and off his feet—the Spartan had grabbed him from behind and propelled Lamb on his way to safety without even slowing down.
The tree flew past the group, missing them by only centimeters. But they kept up the fast pace as one of the machines let out a loud roar from upon the hill, presumably in frustration at their failure to crush their intended prey. The most chilling thing to Lamb was that, despite a strange robotic tinge in the vocalization, it sounded almost human, even though the beings’ clearly artificial physiology belied any claim to humanity they might have.
“Just keep moving!” Holt shouted. “As long as we stay in the trees—”
There was a rumbling beneath their feet, getting louder by the second.
Avalanche . . . ?!
Something—the pursuing Forerunner machines, no doubt—had set a rockslide in motion, and now a dozen human-size rocks and grit were tumbling down the incline and heading right toward them.
Lamb was confused. Why hadn’t they fired their weapons? Were they just toying with them?
The three of them turned and ran like hell.
Holt and Usze were both considerably more physically adept at running than Lamb and were quickly outpacing him. He had no intention of asking for help, though, and so continued sprinting after the others.
He vaulted over a hole, then a second one, his arms pumping, his breath rasping in his chest. He glanced to his right and saw with terror that the rolling boulders were getting closer, starting to catch up, and there were a hell of a lot more descending. Lamb dodged frantically as the first boulder nearly clipped his shoulder, and then suddenly his legs collapsed as something broadsided him across his knees.
He stumbled and fell once more, and now the rocks were raining down and bouncing all around him. He threw his arms over his head in a desperate attempt to try and protect himself.
“Get up” came the commanding voice of Usze ‘Taham, hauling him to his feet. Were it not for the immediate fear of being dashed to pieces, Lamb would have hated the fact that he was proving to be so weak. Evidently, he always had to depend on others to save him.
Lamb’s feet were no longer touching the ground. Usze was raising him through the air. Lamb felt completely disoriented as larger boulders threatened to crush them both, but Usze kept moving, catching up with Holt, who was just ahead.
“There!” shouted the Spartan. A sizable rock lay in their path, seemingly capable of protecting them from the avalanche. The three of them ducked behind it, taking advantage of the natural shelter as the rocks hailed down around them.
At least they had found refuge from the assault.
“Heads up!” shouted Holt.
The Forerunner machines were suddenly there, right on top of them. Apparently they had once again teleported down the hillside as their improvised avalanche had come to an end. Now they began firing, with pulses of bright yellow energy—which seemed to be pockets of hard light–like material—bursting from their very alien-looking rifles.
Usze was immediately up and swinging his sword around, deflecting the incoming fire away from the group while edging toward the approaching enemies. Holt ran alongside him, launching himself at the nearest one and planting his fist in its chest. The machine biped flew backward with the impact, rolling into the dirt before sliding to a stop on its knee, its rifle still raised and firing as though it was unfazed. Holt took the brunt of the fire on his Mjolnir armor’s energy shielding before ducking behind one of the nearby boulders and retrieving his rifle.
The other Forerunner machine fired at Usze, who managed to again protect himself with his sword as he charged forward, quickly spinning around and delivering a hard kick at the enemy’s midsection. The blow connected, knocking the rifle from the biped’s hands, the robotic machine reeling back as it hissed at Usze. It held out its hand to the side and the stave suddenly appeared, seemingly forming from various bits and pieces of the machine’s robotic arm. With a quick bob of the stave, the large blade of energy ignited and the Forerunner machine swung it deftly, entering a combat stance. Usze bounded toward the enemy and engaged it head to head. Despite the machine’s speed and dexterity, it was no match for the Elite one on one. Usze’s energy sword blazed as the blade sliced across the front of the Forerunner biped. The machine let out an earsplitting sound and stumbled back, falling to the ground in pieces.
Holt had now emerged from the rock, rifle in hand and his shielding recharged. He fired without mercy at the first biped. Although it was a steady and quick exchange of firepower, the Forerunner machine couldn
’t withstand the ballistic rounds and took one too many in the chest, before collapsing.
“That was close,” Lamb said, leaning near one of the fallen rocks.
“Looks like it’s not over,” Holt said, reloading his rifle.
Lamb peeked over the top of the boulder, and his eyes widened.
There were now a dozen of the Forerunner machines, armed to the teeth and each coming in through their portals, dropping to the ground from all directions.
“Run!” Lamb bellowed.
“The hell we will,” the Spartan shot back. He was now peeking over the top of his boulder, firing at anything that came near him.
But they were advancing too fast for Holt to be able to adjust his strategy. One of them got close enough to pounce atop the boulder. Man, could they really move! Holt swung his rifle upward to fire off a shot, but the attack on him came too quickly and he was thrown backward. He lost his grip on the rifle and it fell from his hands. The Spartan swung his fists and connected with the side of the machine’s head, knocking it to the ground as the others began to converge on their general position.
An explosion from behind Holt, and the advancing Forerunner machine’s head was blown clean off its shoulders. Holt managed to break free, grab his rifle, and leap back over the boulder where Lamb and Usze were taking cover. Some of the encroaching machines had rifles and were unloading a fusillade of firepower at the boulder.
Lamb was lying there, looking stunned, still gripping his gun.
Holt quickly checked his own rifle for damage. “You saved my life.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Lamb gasped out.
The Sangheili, meanwhile, having swapped his sword with the Covenant carbine he had used earlier, was methodically firing away at the attackers. Both Holt and Lamb joined him. Despite being outnumbered, both the Elite and the Spartan were simply too skilled with their weapons, and they slowly chipped down at their enemies’ numbers. Within a minute, only a handful of them remained, and the threat slowly abated. The Forerunner machines were now falling back quickly, snarling an eerie vocalization as they retreated, but at least they were leaving.
