Smoke and Shadow

by Kelly Gay

  “A Reclaimer?”

  “Of course. I have held in trust all of it, the whole . . . The whole . . . The entire . . .”

  “The entire what? The entire planet? Is that what you mean?”

  “No, not a planet. Not really. But yes, I think. Have you come for the ships?”

  She thought of the wing they’d seen in the debris field. “You mean Forerunner ships?”

  “All right. Yes. They are all around us, bits and pieces. I’m sorry. I could not stop them. I had to jump. Kept jumping, kept copying, piece to piece . . . But wait. I remember. You did this.”

  At the change of his voice, Rion tensed. “Did what exactly?”

  “Destroyed. You destroyed. All of it.”

  “No. We just arrived. We didn’t destroy anything.”

  “But I saw you. I saw your Reclaimer ship. Shield at fifteen percent. We should go. I must serve.”

  “What ship?”

  “UNSC designated CFV-88 Phoenix-class colony ship, Spirit of Fire, of course. I seem to have misplaced some data. . . . The copies, you see. So many copies. But this is remembered, this is the last thing. Last things are always remembered.”

  Traces of the absurd snaked through her drug-dulled mind. Laughter bubbled up, the dazed and ridiculous kind that came because she couldn’t process anything else. She’d reached her limit.

  She’d come looking for that very ship, had followed a trail from the Roman Blue, to the Radiant Perception, to the buoy, and now here to a Forerunner AI that couldn’t remember its name . . . but it could remember the ship that had destroyed its world.

  She’d achieved so much in such a short amount of time, and yet she felt farther away from her goals than ever. And did those goals even matter now?

  “I’m not certain this qualifies as humorous. Humor is defined as a mood or state of mind wherein one feels or expresses joy, elation, mirth, hilarity—”

  “I know what humor is.”

  “You are a Reclaimer. It is my duty. My duty to wait on you. Or is it wait for you? I simply cannot tell the difference. Can you?”

  “Not really.” Rion wiped the tears from her eyes. “So you want off this rock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine,” she said tiredly. “Why the hell not.”

  “One moment, please.”

  The console’s light began to recede from the display and merge with the center dome. The dome slid back, revealing a chip with similar etchings as those on the console.

  “You may remove me now.”

  EIGHTEEN

  * * *

  * * *

  Ace of Spades, debris field, uncharted space

  As soon as she was on board, Rion engaged the airlock and shuffled slowly up the stairs and down the narrow walk to the med bay, her inhibitor wearing thin. The crew would have used the service elevator to take Cade’s body to the bay, and that bleak image filled her mind without mercy.

  Lessa was alone in the med bay, standing vigil, looking scared and stricken and so damn young, her arms hugging herself, unsure of what to do next.

  She glanced up and Rion’s heart gave a painful squeeze at the wide-eyed grief in the young woman’s eyes. “What do we do?” Lessa asked, her lips wet with tears. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Rion didn’t want to see anyone, nor did she feel like talking or comforting. And yet, that’s exactly what she did. Lessa grabbed tightly on to her and cried and shook. Her wild, curly hair itched Rion’s chin and smelled of sweat and old fear, a reminder of how frantic the girl must have been, flying solo, engaging a Covenant war-freighter.

  “Hey. You did great today. You took care of Ace.”

  Lessa lifted her head slightly and stared over Rion’s shoulder at Cade’s body. “But not him. I didn’t take care of him.”

  “You didn’t have to. That was my job.”

  “You did the best you could. We all did, right?”

  Tightness spread across Rion’s chest and she attempted a smile. “I’ll see to him. Go get some rest, check on your brother. . . .”

  Rion waited until Lessa left the bay, then limped to the med cabinet and rooted inside for another shot of pain inhibitor. After the needle went in, she stayed bowed for a while before straightening and facing the stretcher. The only times she’d had to tend the dead in the past was when she helped Unn prepare Birger, and then again when Unn had died. She knew what to do. She’d just never thought she’d be doing it for one of her crew, much less Cade.

  She went slowly: the time and focus on removing Cade’s gear, cleaning him, and then retrieving his dress blues from his quarters was a ritual she desperately needed. This was her farewell. She didn’t speak a word, didn’t shed a tear, didn’t think of anything else but each small movement, each simple task, each tiny button.

  She’d loved him. And they’d been so damn stupid, so afraid of losing each other, that they’d kept their hearts distant and out of their relationship as much as they could. And now he was gone, leaving a deep well of regret.

  Two and a half hours later, he was ready.

  Breaking the solitude was difficult, but she hit the ship-wide comm. “Less, take us to the dwarf star.” She didn’t need to say why or issue any other instructions. They’d know.

  Once Ace was under way, Rion went to her quarters, stripped down, and stepped into the shower. When the first drops of water hit her skin, she stopped holding it all in. Guilt and regret were terrible weights, but she took them as her own, bore them hard on her shoulders, sinking to her knees, the water stinging and painful against her bruised back as she sobbed.

  * * *

  “He’s with his family now.” Hope and worry clung to Lessa’s quiet statement. “He’s got to be, right? There has to be more out there. . . .” She glanced at Rion, then watched the personnel pod shoot into space on a trajectory aimed straight into the heart of the dwarf star. “Right?”

  Rion swallowed the lump in her throat. She thought of those she’d lost: her grandfather, her aunt Jillian, the Birgers. . . . Dear God, she hoped there was more. Lacking a staunch religious belief, all she could do was hope. “Yeah . . . I think he’s finally home.”

  She turned for her chair and out of habit was about to issue flight orders to Cade.

  Her eyes stung, but she stowed the grief. Just get everyone home. Then you can fall apart. “Kip, spin up the FTL. We’re getting out of here.”

  With one last look at the pod, just a speck now against the backdrop of the star, Rion settled in and prepared to jump.

  “Uh, Cap?” Kip said, frowning at his display. “We’re spinning up too fast. I don’t know what’s—”

  A familiar disembodied voice filtered through the bridge. “Apologies. That would be me, engineer.”

  Stunned, Rion began checking systems. “You’re a chip, sitting on my desk in my quarters,” she said calmly. The thing shouldn’t be talking to them; she hadn’t inserted the chip into any of Ace’s networks.

  “Most of me is, yes. But when you touched the pad on my console, I was able to ride a directed energy beam into your forearm unit. And now I’ve linked to your main data systems. I have been assessing your systems and technologies, which were severely in need of service. This ship lacks any moderately intelligent construct and your slipspace capabilities were positively ancient—”

  “Were?”

  “Oh, yes. I have made several adjustments to your drives and systems. Particularly your navigational systems, mapping systems, communications systems, and your slipspace drives. You will see an increase in speed and precision. If you will but lend me your engineer to make physical modifications, I can increase that by orders of magnitude . . . .”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Niko was halfway out of his chair. “This is an AI?”

  “Yes. I am . . . A little bit. Just a little bit.”

  “And
you’ve been messing with my comms?”

  “Messing . . . I do not understand this. One moment. Ah. Yes. Messing. Yes. I have indeed ‘messed’ with your comms. I am also able to streamline your energy output and stealth capabilities and rework your baffling engines to be more productive.”

  Rion had just been hanging on, maintaining her balance. And now a Forerunner AI had invaded her ship. She was tempted to put her head in her hands and give in to the weary, grief-stricken laughter that pushed at her chest. But she did neither of those things, because as surreal as the moment was, as unexpected and potentially disastrous, there was a very clear silver lining. Considering this silver lining was like teetering on the edge of a cliff, pretty sure you might be able to fly.

  “Is this a wise course of action, Cap?” Kip asked, taking her silence as acceptance of the AI’s invasion.

  “Of course it is wise. My purpose is to assist and monitor. I do not deviate. I cannot deviate. I do not infiltrate; I serve.”

  Offended, Niko opened his mouth to argue that point. Infiltrate was exactly what the AI had done, but Rion shook her head, telling him to stand down.

  The engines grew louder as Ace’s FTL spun. They were preparing to enter slipspace at near light-speed. And Rion felt like she was about to fall, because she knew once the words were out of her mouth, there was no going back and everything was going to change. Again.

  A cold resolution settled in, hard and necessary. She did, in fact, have goals. She wanted revenge for Cade. She wanted answers. She wanted someone else to hurt for a change, to pay. . . .

  Her father was still out there. And she wanted a goddamn happy ending.

  She wanted to win.

  The AI, even in its fragmented state, could help her do that.

  “Do it.”

  “Excellent. I shall start immediately. Entering slipspace now . . . Captain Forge.”

  Ahead, a portal ate a hole in space, widening . . . growing larger, brighter. The flash as they entered was blinding, the stars stretching for the briefest of moments, bleeding into nothing but darkness.

  “We shall arrive at Venezia in sixty of your Earth minutes.”

  “Right,” Niko said in disbelief. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  A fog seemed to fall over Rion. And the crew wasn’t faring any better. They were exhausted and edgy. Shadows lurked under Niko’s red eyes. Rion had worked him hard over the last few weeks, and now he had such tragedy to deal with. And Lessa—her usual happy demeanor was gone and she seemed fragile and worn. Kip kept to himself; Rion had no idea how he fared, but every time their eyes met she saw hurt and regret.

  “Everyone take some time,” she told them.

  “What about you?” Niko looked over his shoulder.

  A ghost of a smile thinned her lips. “I’ll make sure our new AI is right and we get back to Venezia in one piece.”

  “Of course I’m right. And not just a little bit. My calculations are correct. There would be no reason to—”

  “Little Bit?” Rion cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “Yes, Captain Forge?”

  “Have you taken a look at our environmental systems?”

  “Of course. I have modified the systems. . . .”

  She rubbed her eyes as “Little Bit” kept speaking and realized that trying to find something for a highly advanced ancient AI to do was just about pointless.

  “. . . and once my chip has been inserted, I will be able to increase my presence. . . .”

  NINETEEN

  * * *

  * * *

  Ace of Spades, 25,000 kilometers above Venezia, Qab system

  Rion stood at the observation window in Ace’s lounge and stared at Venezia from twenty-five thousand kilometers.

  They had indeed arrived in sixty minutes.

  The full realization of what the fragmented construct had been able to accomplish was astounding. And frightening. She had a Forerunner artificial intelligence in her possession, something that most interested parties would kill for.

  And in turn, the AI had in its possession firsthand information about the Spirit of Fire.

  As exciting as that should have been, it came in a package wrapped in gray and shadowed by death.

  Lessa’s voice came over the comm. “Captain?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Kathy from Venezia TC is asking if we want to secure our usual berth? It’s available. Or you just want to hang in orbit for a while?”

  “Secure the berth and request immediate medical assistance for Ram.”

  As Ace received permission to enter the planet’s airspace, Rion went to the bridge, relieved Lessa, and flew the ship in herself. Once they were docked, she released the air locks and opened the cargo door.

  Lessa lingered on the bridge. “You coming?”

  “You guys go on. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  They needed the time to deal with Cade’s death, time to absorb what had happened and grieve. Rion tried to find the words to explain her need for solitude, but Lessa—always gifted at reading others—simply stopped by her chair, put her hand on Rion’s shoulder, and squeezed.

  After the crew had disembarked and Ram Chalva had been taken by medical personnel to the hospital in New Tyne, Rion went to her quarters, slid into her desk chair, and ran her hands over her face. Her back was killing her again. She’d need medical attention herself soon . . . but some things couldn’t wait. She exhaled deeply and then ripped the bandage off her past. If anything, it’d be a distraction from her grief. . . .

  “You there, AI? Little Bit?”

  “I am here.”

  “Mind if I call you that? Little Bit?”

  “I do not mind that colloquial designation if it suits your purpose. I myself cannot remember my original designation.”

  “What happened to your facility?”

  “Many things. Many things. Like many parts. My recollection is . . . spotty.”

  “Start with the Spirit of Fire.”

  “The Reclaimers, yes. They came. Enemies to the Covenant. The Reclaimers destroyed the sphere. Why would they do such a thing? Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I didn’t,” Rion assured it. “Tell me about the Reclaimers.”

  “They had an impressive AI on that ship, given their rudimentary technology of course. A little haughty for my tastes . . . She was quick, and her calculations were very well composed. They destroyed the sphere, destroyed all of our beautiful ships. The Spirit of Fire. Aptly named, for that’s all she brought to our sanctuary. Burned everything and blew parts of me and my directive straight out into the system.”

  “And the ship? What happened to the ship?”

  “It . . . One moment. Yes, you call it slingshot. It slung around our artificial sun and through the sphere. Left the system. They wouldn’t have gotten far.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because they used their slipspace drive to trigger a supernova and destroy the sanctuary. They lost the ability to access and navigate slipspace.”

  Rion released a heavy breath. So they’d been truly lost. “Do you have any images or feeds relating to the Reclaimers?”

  “Some, yes from my feed at Relay 07756.”

  “Play on-screen, will you?”

  A slide show of scenes began to appear, most of them grainy and distant, showing Sangheili and even a lofty-looking San’Shyuum. But they were just fragments, disjointed images that only told her the players, not the outcome.

  Then, startlingly, her father’s image appeared.

  Rion jerked as if shocked. Everything inside her stilled, as if moving or breathing might make the image fade. It was him. Her dad. Looking into a camera lens and pointing. He appeared to be smiling and in the middle of saying something.

  “How did you get this?”


  “It was a simple matter to slip into their communications.”

  “Do you have audio?”

  Static buzzed through the speakers on Rion’s display. And then she heard it; his voice as he leaned close to a camera. “Keep the coffee hot. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Tears blurred her vision. The image cut off, replaced by a chaotic battle scene. It took her a moment to understand what she was now seeing. “Are those . . . ?”

  “I believe you call them Spartans. The Reclaimers referred to them as Red Team.”

  On the vid feed, three Spartans were taking on a group of Sangheili in close-quarter combat. At the bottom edge of the screen, Rion saw her father, going in and out of frame, as he too fought like hell.

  The feed suddenly gave way to lines of static and Rion shot to her feet, ignoring the stab of pain in her back. “Wait, what happened?”

  “At the time this was chronicled, I began moving critical systems and making copies of myself and sending them to every station on the sphere. They were going to destroy the sphere.”

  “You keep saying ‘sphere.’ You mean the planet, right?”

  “No, it was but a construct, a sanctuary. A large artificial refuge, if you will.”

  “Pull up the shot before the battle, the one with the audio.” The AI complied. “Freeze-frame.”

  Again, it was him. John Forge. Her heart pounded slow and hard, and she felt a little sick as she slid back into her chair.

  “Were you able to track the Spirit of Fire before the sphere blew?”

  “I only have its initial trajectory.”

  They would have all gone into cryo. Unless they found a planet, established a base camp, waited for rescue. . . .

  “Scan this and nearby systems. Create a map and highlight planets or moons capable of supporting human life based on their trajectory. Also, can you tell me if there were any human casualties during the Reclaimer’s fight with the Covenant?”