“Come with me.”
The usher led Karl out of the rows of chairs with restraints where everyone else was being ordered to buckle in. Outside, the usher pointed down a corridor. “Follow this all the way to the end. They need you there.”
It was a mile, which Karl walked as fast as he could, slightly out of breath when he reached an open bay near the front of the asteroid where thirty men with rifles and handguns stood, guarding the entrance. A grizzled old miner looked him up and down. “Volunteer Defense?”
“Yeah.”
“You have certification in hand-to-hand combat and firearms training?”
Karl nodded. The minder handed Karl a datapad and a handgun. “We have an estimated three thousand Unggoy who’ve managed to get inside, more expected. You’re drafted. The doors behind us lead to the control center, the bridge, of the Exodus. The aliens do not get past here. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Karl said, and took up position just as the floor started to shake.
“What the hell is that?” one of the other men shouted, holding a machine gun up as a seven-foot-tall man in gray armor turned the corner.
They all stared as the half-ton, armor-clad human walked up to them.
“I have something the bridge crew needs,” he said, and held up a small black chip casing in his gauntleted hand. “Mind letting me through?”
The Rubble Defense Force stepped aside, one of the large miners politely holding the door open for the giant, armor-clad soldier to step inside.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SEVEN
MIDSUMMER NIGHT, NEAR HABITAT EXODUS, 23 LIBRAE
The bridge crew of the Exodus habitat hailed the Midsummer Night. Keyes looked over at Lt. Burt on the comms. “Patch them through.”
Midsummer Night had been covering the slow flight out to the edges of the system to prepare for a Slipspace jump for almost a day now. Unggoy and Kig-Yar fighters had dogged and harassed them the whole way, pockmarking the surface of the asteroid and occasionally scoring hits on the frigate, but unable to stop them. The desperate Grunt boarding parties left Keyes nervous. He’d had to make a snap decision to have the Spartans hand over the nav data, but all indications were that the Rubble Defense fighters were keeping the Grunts pinned down. And more importantly, well clear of the cockpit. The Grunts, with their methane tanks and nowhere to go once the Exodus entered Slipspace, would eventually choke to death. Keyes had decided the million lives were worth the small risk. There’d been enough Colonist deaths by the Covenant so far. It was time to rescue some of them. He had no idea of what trouble might lie ahead for him from this decision, but the lives saved would be worth it.
They were far now enough out to enter Slipspace.
An engineer appeared, his overalls dirty, bags under his eyes. “Lieutenant Keyes, I apologize, but the Security Council insisted I contact you.”
The Rubble’s Council. Keyes had almost forgotten about them. “What’s wrong?”
“The Exodus will not be able to make the trip. We don’t have the range and engine power. We expected more time to bring more engines online. With a Covenant fleet supposed to arrive, we have to go with what we have now. And what we have now, well, they’ll burn out, or if we make lots of small jumps, it will literally take centuries to cross the galaxy away from where Covenant or UNSC people would ever dare venture, as we originally planned.”
The man looked defeated.
“The Council knows?” Keyes asked.
“Yes. They’re debating what to do.” The engineer looked down at the floor.
“But the Exodus can make a journey, just not as far as originally intended?” Keyes confirmed.
The Council didn’t want to return to the colonies. Would they be hardheaded enough to risk Exodus and everyone in it to try and leave the Covenant and colonies behind anyway?
“Yes.” The engineer met his eyes. Keyes realized the engineer was worried about the same thing.
“Put me through to the Council,” Keyes ordered. He thought about the last time he’d given a speech.
Forget trying to sound stirring, he thought. Just lay it out. His duty was to convince the Council to head toward the Inner colonies. It was their best bet for survial.
The screen filled with the members of the Security Council. The Rubble wasn’t working as a technocracy right now, not while being herded into their spots all throughout the Exodus asteroid.
This was their leadership. And Keyes had to influence it.
“Hello, I’m Lieutenant Keyes, of the Midsummer Night,” he said with a faint grin. He locked his arms behind him. It was a classroom habit, and it would keep him from reaching for the pipe which he’d found sitting in his belongings, thankfully untouched. “I’m a fighting man, but as commander of this ship, I know something about holding people’s lives in my hands. I won’t bullshit around. You have enough engine power to reach an Inner Colony quickly, where there will be some measure of protection, and access to resources. The other option is to risk a slow, long journey out to a destination that has neither, but in which you retain your own power.
“I don’t know what the UNSC will do, and I can’t guarantee that all of you with Insurrectionist ties will be given a pass. But remember, you have a million lives you’re deciding for. A million lives who could make a difference in the future fight against these bastard aliens who destroyed the Rubble. Unless you choose to let the Covenant win.”
Keyes looked at them all, and Maria Esquival stood up. “We took a vote,” she said, “before you called.”
Keyes sucked in his breath.
She quirked a faint smile. “We’re aiming to reach the 18 Scorpii system. If you would escort us, Lieutenant.”
“Of course,” Keyes said. “Make random jumps out, until we clear the asteroid of Grunts. We want to make sure not a single one remains alive before we turn toward the Inner Colonies.” His after-action report was going to be damning enough. Showing up with an asteroid full of evidence . . . well, Keyes figured he’d be spending time behind bars again soon. But he couldn’t turn his back on a million lives. He couldn’t leave them for the Covenant. Not again.
Maria nodded. “We have teams combing Exodus thoroughly.”
Keyes waited until the screen flickered off, then looked around at his bridge crew. “It’s still tricky,” he said. “Don’t let those breaths out. We have to hope Petya’s computers can keep us in sync.”
“Actually,” said a voice from the back of the bridge. “We ditched Petya.”
The Spartan at the back pulled his helmet off. It was Mike. He held out a chip.
“This what I think it is?” Keyes asked.
“Navigation charts.” Mike sat down by Keyes’s old console. “I ran simulations on syncing our two ships. The odds weren’t good. Made more sense to dump the freighter. I pressed your crew into service; we off-loaded a lot of the more useful cargo into your bay. We also cut loose a couple of Pelicans to make some room.”
Keyes raised an eyebrow. “And I authorized this when?”
Mike plugged the navigation data in, dumping star chart information into the ship’s computers. “I took some liberties. Time was short when you showed up. Jai and Adriana lent a hand; they’re still stowing things. A good price for the data, losing just a couple Pelicans, Lieutenant Keyes, don’t you think?”
Keyes straightened out his back, holding in his private smile. “Don’t ever try to run my ship for me again.”
The Spartan did not reply, but plugged in a random vector out of the system. “We’re going in the same direction. I carried these personally on a disk from their ship to this one. Can’t be intercepted. Will you give the order?”
Keyes looked out into space through the windows of his bridge. “Send them the signal. Engage Slipspace drives.”
All across Exodus engines flickered to life, and the asteroid struggled its way into Slipspace, ripping and clawing its way into a hole in the universe.
It was ungainly, but the asteroid man
aged it, and Midsummer Night followed, leaving behind the remains of the Rubble.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-EIGHT
METISETTE ORBIT, 23 LIBRAE
Bonifacio drifted in orbit around Metisette. The batteries on his pod were close to dead, and condensation dripped off the portholes.
He’d seen the destruction of the Redoubt from orbit, the asteroids raining down into the atmosphere.
Since then things had been quiet.
The air was getting thick inside the pod, and it was hard to breathe. Occasionally he heard Kig-Yar voices on the radio and sometimes fast Unggoy chatter, but none of them would respond to his calls for help.
Not even calls back to the Rubble had been answered. He’d pleaded and begged, even offered rewards, but gotten only static.
He sat in place hugging his chest, when a loud pipping sound caught his attention.
Bonifacio moved over and looked at the scans.
A bulbous-headed ship had appeared in orbit nearby, expertly dropping out of Slipspace in a way no human ship could.
Another flashed into space behind it, then another, and another. An entire Covenant fleet materialized in front of Bonifacio.
This would be a new group of Covenant. Ones who hadn’t shut him out, Bonifacio thought. He moved to the radio. He’d surrender. Yes, he’d be a tool of the Covenant, a slave to them, but he’d live.
Yes, he’d live.
He grabbed the microphone and hailed the large cruiser moving nearby, and kept calling it until he saw it change course.
Bonifacio’s heart skipped.
He’d done it. He’d survived. He was going to get picked up. He smiled as he watched the cruiser pick up speed, and then frowned.
It was still picking up speed. It was moving so close that he could see it from the windows of his pod, growing larger every second.
A ball of energy gathered underneath the ship. Bonifacio screamed and put his hand up against the slimy, wet porthole as if to ward off the plasma that lashed out and struck his tiny pod.
The massive Covenant cruiser plowed through the vaporized remains as it adjusted its orbit.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-NINE
INFINITE SACRIFICE, METISETTE ORBIT, 23 LIBRAE
Thel got to his knees and bowed to the pair of Hierarchs before him on the bridge of the Infinite Sacrifice. An honor guard of five Sangheili guards arrayed themselves around their floating chairs.
“Rise,” the Prophet of Truth said. “You ordered the Unggoy to storm the human vehicle after the Kig-Yar Reth’s death?”
“Yes, Hierarch,” Thel said. “It was a chance to get the location of their homeworld. But we know now the Unggoy and any Kig-Yar that were with them have failed.”
“How is that?” the Prophet of Regret asked.
“Their air would have run out by now.”
The heavy crowns of the Hierarch bobbed as they considered that. “Indeed,” Truth said. “We are left only with Kig-Yar who imagined they were helping humans, at Reth’s orders. Potential traitors, all of them. And these Unggoy as well, breeding outside the law. Traveling without permits.”
Regret shook its head. “A mess.”
“A mess that revealed much,” Truth hissed.
For a moment, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Then Regret nodded at Truth. “We will destroy all the traitors.”
Thel felt his neck tighten. He’d failed to appreciate the situation, and now he would pay the ultimate price for his mistakes. The Hierarch would have his head.
Vadam would suffer. His lineage would be suspect.
The floor beneath his feet felt as if it wavered, and then Thel stiffened. Zhar was moving forward.
The Sangheili warrior had drawn the bar of his energy sword, but not yet unleashed it.
“Zhar,” Thel hissed, horrified. Zhar seemed to be struggling with himself.
“So you will kill us too, Shipmaster?” Zhar cried out. “Like animals? After all we served. How can I suffer such a dishonor? My line’s dishonor?”
The honor guard drew their energy pikes, the ends shimmering with contained blue plasma.
Zhar took another hesitant step forward, and Thel pulled out his sword and turned it on. “Zhar?”
His old friend looked back at him. “I have already drawn,” he said. “I will not stand and let them dishonor me.”
“I have drawn as well,” Thel said sadly.
Zhar leapt forward, but Thel jumped as well, slamming into his side and spearing Zhar through the throat with his sword. It sizzled and spat Sangheili blood.
Thel threw Zhar against a wall, then decapitated him with a swift swipe.
He stared at the mess of blood and Zhar’s body, then turned back to the Hierarchs, setting his sword down on the ground away from him.
What else could he have done? Thel wondered. Zhar had forced him into it. To step toward a Hierarchs with a sword in hand was madness.
Regret looked shaken, but composed himself and piloted his chair out of the large bridge. “What madness Sangheili honor can be,” he muttered as he left. “They should be careful, lest they lose their way.”
But Truth looked at Thel with analytical eyes. “Tell me your your name, noble warrior.”
“Thel ‘Vadamee,” Thel said.
Truth moved closer, the honor guard moving with him. “You live. Say nothing of what happened here.”
“Yes, Hierarch,” Thel said.
“Report to the shipmaster—he will find you lodging until we return to High Charity.” Truth also left the bridge.
Thel waited until they were well clear, then stood. He didn’t look at Zhar’s body as he walked to the large, Sangheili shipmaster to get his instructions.
This mission was over, and Thel was grateful. He wanted a ship to command that was part of a fleet, not off on its own. But leading a mission, away from the Prophets where his decisions could or could not risk their wrath . . .
Thel ‘Vadamee never wanted to be in that position again.
CHAPTER
SEVENTY
UNSC FRIGATE READY OR NOT, OUTER 18 SCORPII
Commander Arthur Resnick of the frigate Ready or Not was enjoying a routine patrol at the edge of the system of 18 Scorpii. The slow pace gave him time to catch up on paperwork, and he was scrolling through a datapad full of reports when his navigation officer suddenly stiffened.
“Sir?”
Resnick glanced at the screen. “What the hell is that?”
The report showed something . . . huge. It was bearing down on the system in Slipspace. The scan had been forwarded to them via an early warning sensor net and station farther outsystem.
“That’s gotta be Covenant,” he said. “None of us have anything that heavy.” The mass was off the charts.
“It’s six miles long,” the navigation officer said. She sounded shocked. “Whatever it is.”
“Send the warning.” The planet of Falaknuma would need to gear up as best it could. There wasn’t much in the way of UNSC Navy here. Falaknuma mainly served as a base for a section of the ONI Prowler Corps, and a handful of frigates.
They were going to get overwhelmed pretty quickly, if past Covenant encounters were anything to judge by.
Resnick cleared his datapad. “Get the MAC ready. Bring the reactor up to full operational power—”
“Sir.” Comms stood up. “It’s broadcasting a UNSC friend-or-foe tag. The Midsummer Night.”
Resnick looked over at Navigation. Lt. Onika frowned. “There’s another signature in there. About the right size to be a frigate.”
“Could be a trap.”
“Standby, but wait for my order to fire,” Resnick said. “We stand off and watch this. For a moment.”
Then the massive object dropped into real space and they finally got a read on it.
A six-mile-long asteroid, trailing debris, one engine misfiring and a UNSC frigate trailing it.
“Comms, open a channel,” Resnick ordered.
On the screen a man with Navy-short salt-and-pepper hair appeared. “Ready or Not, this is Lieutenant Keyes, of the Midsummer Night. We’re all friendly. Do not fire.” Keyes grinned. “The asteroid is full of refugees from behind Covenant lines. They’re all civilians from what was once Madrigal. About a million of them. Their air is getting stale, the asteroid has been holed from being shot at, and the engines are critical. We need to get these civilians off the moment they get into a stable orbit.”
The bridge crew of the Ready or Not stared at the large asteroid moving by them.
Someone from the back of the bridge uttered what was on everyone’s mind:
“Holy shit.”
Resnick snapped around. “Alright, let’s get to it. Comms, we need to bump this up the chain of command and to the Colonial Administration Authority. Let’s get cracking—there are people’s lives at stake.”
The bridge exploded into motion as the rescue effort began.
PART V
CHAPTER
SEVENTY-ONE
HIGH CHARITY
“We lost much,” the Prophet of Regret said.
Truth looked at his fellow Hierarch. “No. We purged Kig-Yar and Unggoy who might have caused trouble, due to their inclinations to work with humans. And thanks to the modified weapons, we have found two more worlds of theirs to attack.”
“Neither of which will be their homeworld,” Regret grumbled.
“It is progress,” Truth said.
From their throne room, high up in High Charity, they looked out over their subjects. Streams of other San’Shyuum wobbled around the city in the air in large rings, barges of Unggoy flew from point to point, and pilgrims from all throughout the Covenant worlds thronged the streets.
“We need to be more careful about the Sangheili,” Regret said. “Honor and nobility might one day get in the way of orders.”
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