“Hands,” Vaz said. “Quick. They’ll have militia here in a few minutes.”
The woman pulled something out of her belt to cut the cuffs. Vaz hauled Staffan to his feet and pushed him toward the door.
“You’re bringing him too?” the woman asked. It was still dark outside. Staffan could hear the engines but he couldn’t see anything. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” Vaz said. “Nice frame charge work for a pilot, Dev.”
“I can do everything you can. And more elegantly.”
“And nice parking.”
Staffan almost collided with a UNSC Pelican that he simply hadn’t seen. There it was, right in front in an impossibly small space between the buildings. As Vaz bundled him up the ramp, Staffan looked back to see something big, black, and noisy hovering without nav lights over the storehouse.
The deck tilted and the dropship was airborne before he was even strapped into his seat. Vaz leaned over him, clutching handcuffs.
“I have to do this,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Answers, Staffan. Your answers. After that, I don’t know what happens.” Vaz secured the strap. “To either of us.”
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
PART OF ME WANTS TO OFFER THEM A CHOICE. WOULD ANY OF THEM REFUSE?
—DR. CATHERINE HALSEY, SEARCHING HER CONSCIENCE ABOUT THE ABDUCTED CHILDREN TRAINING TO BE SPARTANS, FROM HER JOURNAL
INDEPENDENT KIG-YAR SHIP PARAGON, OFF SHAPS 3, QAB SYSTEM
Chol had time, but it wasn’t infinite. She paced around the hold in her pressure suit, waiting for confirmation that the umbilical was secured to Pious Inquisitor’s hull.
Fel watched her. He wasn’t wearing a suit, so he had to rely on the efficiency of the two crew who were monitoring the umbilical’s progress. The only thing that stood between the cold vacuum of space and the cargo deck was an energy seal that closed the leading tip of the tube. Sometimes a physical airlock was a little more comforting in psychological terms if not in engineering reality.
“It’s the Huragok,” Fel said. “Wherever you try to cut through, he’ll know.”
“So? He’s a Huragok. He’s there to maintain the ship.”
“I don’t think it’s a security malfunction. I think he changed the entry codes.”
“I think your customer did, in case you came back to double-cross him.”
“He must have instructed the Huragok to do it.”
“Then we instruct it differently. I really don’t see the problem.”
“Sometimes Sinks isn’t quite as compliant as most. We found him in a wrecked ship. He gets very agitated if he’s thwarted.”
Not as compliant as most. Chol decided that would be a good name for the creature if Huragok weren’t so wedded to names based on endless variations of their buoyancy status. “I note you left it late in the proceedings to tell me about him,” she said, grinding her teeth. “And this is the first time you’ve mentioned his aberrations.”
A Huragok was a welcome bonus, or so she’d thought since she’d learned a few hours ago that there was one on board. Now she knew that Fel hadn’t leveled with her. The Huragok was defective in some way, not as unquestioningly obedient as they usually were. She’d undertaken this mission without knowing the creature existed, though, so if it turned out not to be a blessing then she was no worse off. Perhaps it could be contained and given more basic tasks. It was the ship that mattered. She could worry about the detail later.
But what else might Fel be hiding? She was prepared for anything. For all she knew, there could be a crew on board lying in wait for her, Kig-Yar or human. She took nothing for granted and turned her back on Fel to talk to Zim on her helmet comms.
“Is the boarding party standing by?” she asked. “Fel’s just told me the Huragok is defective. So he might also have forgotten to tell me that we’re walking into an ambush. Or that the vessel’s booby-trapped.”
“They’re ready, mistress.”
“Very good. Take nothing on trust.”
Chol never did. Zim would stay with Paragon, despite the fact she needed him for boarding duties. Paragon had to be left in safe, loyal hands. Once she entered Pious Inquisitor, she might be stranded in a dead ship if her own vessel got into difficulties, or if a bridge crew she’d placed too much trust in decided to abandon her there. It wasn’t unknown. They’d been paid. They had no reason to hang around, assuming they were willing to face her wrath if she survived being abandoned.
In theory, she could simply get home in the battlecruiser and reclaim her ship later, but until she checked over Pious Inquisitor personally, and satisfied herself that all systems were functional, she would keep all her options open.
The tube extension and alignment process was going smoothly, even if Chol felt that it was taking a glacial age. She walked back to the opening of the umbilical, a great gaping mouth in Paragon’s hull that still looked like a fragile bubble that could burst and kill her any moment, no matter how many times she’d watched this procedure. The long, translucent tube now bridged the gap between Paragon’s cargo bay and the battlecruiser’s hull. The laser would begin cutting as soon as the tube had a secure lock on it. If that seal wasn’t perfect, the tube could break loose and compromise both vessels.
Take your time, gentlemen. A little frustration now is a small price for me to pay.
Chol studied the schematic again, a holographic repeater mirroring the display up on the bridge, and visualized the cross-section of the shuttle bay doors. If the laser ring cut through at that position, she’d have an emergency bulkhead between the access point and the bridge that would provide extra reassurance if the umbilical became detached. She could repair the hole in the bay door at her leisure. They’d simply have to adopt extra airlock safety procedures until it was fixed.
“Mistress, we have a stable connection,” said Zim’s voice in her helmet comms. “We can start the burn.”
“Do it,” she said.
At least the hull repair would keep the Huragok busy. When Huragok were busy, they were happy. The creature was probably suffering after-effects of the enforced boredom of being marooned in a wreck he couldn’t repair, compounded by being moved to an unfamiliar and empty ship with little to distract him. They did better with companions. They were social animals, artificial or not. Team players, the humans called it.
But if I keep this Huragok, then I’ll need a second one so that they can maintain each other. Where am I going to get one, though?
And why didn’t he repair the wreck they found him in? Not enough raw materials? They can create anything. But the wreck must have had some sealed compartment for him to survive at all. What was he doing?
There was something wrong there, but she didn’t know what. It bothered her. It wasn’t her top priority now, though. The boarding party, suited and impatient, began assembling on the cargo deck, twenty-two crew including some who’d had experience of operating similar ships. With any luck, none of them would need to fight. They’d check there was nobody else on board, then change all the security codes and set a course for the Y’Deio system.
“Technician?” She spotted Jec on the upper gantry, inspecting a readout. He wasn’t wearing a pressure suit. “Are we still airtight?”
He leaned over the rail. “I certainly hope so, mistress, or else I’m a ghost.”
“Don’t be flippant,” she snapped. “Safety is sensible. Safety is profitable. Take only the risks you must.”
Daring raids were fine, but carelessness that cost lives was sloppy. She ran her hand over the laser pistol on her hip.
“It’s just a Huragok,” Fel said, looking her over. She hoped she didn’t look nervous. A nervous shipmistress didn’t inspire confidence among the crew. “It isn’t violent.”
“As long as it is just a Huragok.”
“Are you insinuating that my crew are waiting to ambush you, shipmistress? You know they’ve been paid and have dispersed. That
’s how you found me, remember.”
“Indeed, but I don’t know about the humans, do I?”
“To the best of my knowledge,” Fel said, “they haven’t trained a crew yet.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t offer to stay on and train them for an additional fee.”
Perhaps Fel had, but was turned down. She couldn’t tell; he didn’t say. Humans weren’t as stupid as some thought, and might have managed to reach the conclusion that a shipmaster who stole a vessel once might repeat the winning formula. She stared down the umbilical tunnel again, imagining she could feel the heat from the ring of lasers at the far end of the tube as they cut steadily through the layers of metal and composite that made up the battlecruiser’s external skin. But it was just an illusion caused by the contact area of the hull glowing red-hot. The energy barrier and her suit insulated her from both the cold of space and the heat from the cutting process.
Chol opened a link to the duty engineer. “Stand by to generate atmosphere.”
“The ship has full life support running,” Fel said. “How else would the Huragok function? He needs access to all decks to do his work.”
“I take nothing for granted,” Chol said. “Especially if I find the ship’s crewed, in which case I’ll vent the atmosphere, Huragok or no Huragok. So then I’d need to replenish it. Therefore I have generators on standby, just in case. Why do I have to explain all this to you? We do the same work. We follow the same operating procedures.”
“I’m simply trying to reassure you, shipmistress.”
Chol was getting irritated by his fawning. “I’ve already said I won’t kill you. How about a little silence? I’d welcome that. In fact, go back to the bridge. Report to Zim. He’ll take care of you.”
She knew she was fretting now. It was simply standing idle that fed her anxiety. She was so close to her goal, so close to taking the ship, that she imagined ‘Telcam was about to drop out of slipspace with a Sangheili task force and snatch her prize away from her. It was almost too good to be true. She hadn’t wasted months searching, Fel had cooperated fairly rapidly, and as far as she could see, Inquisitor was all that they said she was.
“Pressure equalized,” Jec said.
Bakz stepped forward. The boarding party clustered at the mouth of the umbilical, jostling for position. Chol knew what they were thinking. There might be valuables left on board that Fel’s crew hadn’t taken and that they could grab for personal bonuses. She’d have to keep an eye on that in case one of them took something she couldn’t afford to lose.
“Permission to board, shipmistress?” Bakz asked.
Chol drew her weapon and gestured down the tunnel. “Proceed.”
There was no sense in losing an entire crew if something went wrong at this stage. Bakz went down the tube alone while the others waited behind Chol. From a certain angle he looked as if he was walking on mist. He didn’t pause even for a second before stepping through the shimmering haze of the energy barrier that hung at the end of the tube like desert air.
This was the worst part, the waiting, the long seconds of silence while everyone held their breath and listened for good news or bad.
It took longer than expected, but Bakz stepped back through the seal with a triumphant swagger and took a few steps onto the tunnel floor.
“All clear, mistress,” he said. “In fact, as empty as an Unggoy’s head. Boarding party, first ten, move in.”
Chol followed Bakz down the umbilical toward the energy seal that shimmered like a heat haze at the far end. It was always a little unnerving to look down and see the hint of infinite space beneath her feet, even though the gauzy filter of the tube’s material gave the impression of comforting solidity in her mind. She shook off the uneasiness. That was a lizard’s thinking, the instinct of a creature that clung to the ground. A T’vaoan should have relished the void below like a bird in flight.
One day, we’ll fly. While the Sangheili and the others degenerate, we’ll evolve.
When she stepped through the barrier onto a solid deck, she could see the lines of square-section columns that rose through two open decks, and openings to passages that led to the rest of the ship. The lighting was still on. Bakz checked his suit’s status display and then accessed a port on the bulkhead.
“Atmosphere stable, temperature stable,” he said. “Life support’s working normally.”
Chol paced around, still ready for an ambush. She didn’t plan to take off her helmet yet, but when she did, she’d be able to smell intruders. The hangar wasn’t completely empty after all. Two Spirit dropships were suspended just above the deck, looking a little worse for wear. Fel would have taken them if they’d been any use, but perhaps his customer had insisted on having them.
“Ved, Lig—over here.” She summoned two males who were more familiar with Spirits. “Check those two ships and see if they’re airworthy. Bakz, Noit—with me. Everyone else—once we’re through the doors, spread out and check the propulsion, weapons, and engineering sections. Then work through the rest of the ship as fast as you can. We’re not counting every speck of dust. Just make sure everything essential is in order.”
It would take a full ship survey lasting a season to do that, and the Huragok would deal with any routine defects. She just needed to check that Fel hadn’t removed generators or other major components thinking that the stupid humans wouldn’t notice. She didn’t want to find herself cornered by ‘Telcam and hit the slipspace controls only to find that she was missing some parts and dead in the water.
The quickest way out was via the doors that led onto an access deck connecting the bridge, cargo bay, gravity lift compartment, and other core areas. Once those sealed behind her, she’d take off her helmet, inhale the scents, and get a better idea of what she was dealing with. It was a big ship for fewer than thirty to search thoroughly. But once she had control of the bridge, she could seal off other sections and vent their atmospheres if she needed to. If there was anybody waiting in ambush and they were smart enough to suit up, they’d still run out of air sooner or later.
Pious Inquisitor felt like a mausoleum as she stood in front of the doors. Noit reached out and pressed the controls. Nothing happened. He pressed again.
“Is this all part of the code changes?” she asked. “Very well, this might slow us, but it won’t stop us. Bypass the controls, Noit.”
It shouldn’t have been hard. There were always overrides, even though the Huragok crew always maintained ships so well that emergency measures were rarely needed. Even the Sangheili accepted they weren’t immune to damage that might trap them inside a ship. Noit prodded around at the side of the doors for some time, clicking and hissing with frustration until there was a faint sigh and the doors parted.
“You can seal them again, yes?” Chol asked.
“Let me make sure first.” The rest of the search party stepped through and the doors closed again. Noit examined the inner bulkhead controls and ran a hand-scanner down the center seal. “That’s sealed. Tight as a drum. Let’s go.”
Chol headed forward. The bridge was on a deck that ran level with the deckhead of the shuttle bay, which meant negotiating ramps and elevators. There were a few more bulkhead doors that needed to be opened manually, but eventually they reached the main access to the command center.
There was still no sign of the Huragok. She expected him to be on the bridge, awaiting instructions.
“I’m getting weary of these locks.” Noit opened another bulkhead panel. “In fact, when I find that gas-bag, I’m going to—oh. Curse the thing. Curse it.”
Chol spun around and loomed over him. No wonder he was angry. The interior of the panel was completely smooth and featureless, as if all the controls had been sliced away and polished flat. There was nothing to access or probe. All she could do was admire her reflection in it. Chol felt her feathers rise with anger and press against her close-fitting helmet, which made her even angrier.
“We’ve been sabotaged,” she hissed. “Loc
ked out. No human could manage this. Nor Fel. This is the work of his noncompliant Huragok.”
Bakz leaned over the panel to take a look. “But he must have done it from this side of the bulkhead. He’s out here somewhere.” Then he looked up at small, well-hidden openings in the deckhead. Covenant ships were riddled with small conduits that the Huragok used to move between decks like uoi in a warren, largely unseen by the crew. “Well, we can’t follow him through those. We don’t float. And they might be able to squeeze themselves into those small gaps, but we can’t.”
Chol could imagine the Huragok watching them with whatever sense of gleeful triumph a creature like that could manage. He was definitely keeping them out of the ship. The locks could have been down to a ship-wide computer problem, but destroying the controls to the bridge doors was a deliberate act of sabotage. She looked up, working on the assumption that he was tracking them and could somehow access their helmet-to-helmet comms circuit. What was his name again? Sometimes Sinks. Well, she’d sink him soon with a few well-placed shots and enjoy the moment.
“Are you listening, Huragok?” She didn’t need to raise her voice, but shouting made her feel more dominant. It also let the crew know she wasn’t taking any nonsense from a servant. “Stop this right now. Restore all the systems you’ve damaged. Or when I find you, I’ll kill you. And I will find you. These are your orders. You have to obey them. Your Forerunner creators designed you to obey them. Do as I tell you.”
She waited, although she wasn’t sure why. She couldn’t imagine a Huragok yelling defiance at her. They made bleats and farting noises by venting gas from their buoyancy sacs, but they were generally silent, communicating only by sign language.
Then a faint hum broke in to her comms, and she heard a voice, an actual voice. For a moment she thought it was a human, but the language was all wrong. Then she realized it was synthesized.
it said. It was mild and soft, not the voice of a rebel at all.
Halo®: Mortal Dictata Page 32
