Halo: Glasslands

by Karen Traviss

Page 11

 

  “Good day, Jul. Have patience. ”

  Jul bowed his head politely and left. There was no point arguing with Levu because there was nothing to argue against. The kaidon made perfect sense, just as the Arbiter had also made perfect sense when he said the Sangheili had surrendered their selves and their ability to run their own affairs.

  And the arum summed up the problem. To reach the core, each sphere had to be operated in turn to activate the next. No sphere could act without the next one in a hierarchy that was impossible to reorder. It mirrored the Sangheili social structure and Jul wondered if that was the unspoken rule the arum actual y taught children and reinforced in adults—that the keep system had to be obeyed and that flouting it was impossible. The family keeps al needed the approval of their township keep to act, and the township keeps answered to their city keep in its turn, spheres within spheres.

  Above that, though, there was nothing now that the San’Shyuum had been ousted. A world of eight bil ion needed more than a mass of uncoordinated fiefdoms to deal with the humans.

  And those Jiralhanae who’ve turned on us. We have many enemies now. As the humans say—the lid has come off.

  Jul found himself at the end of the colonnade that connected Levu’s keep to the marketplace without remembering the walk at al . It was a bad sign. And he stil didn’t have a plan.

  Do I dispute Levu’s decision and exercise my right to assassinate him?

  His grievance wasn’t with Levu, and there was no point acting alone anyway.

  There’s Forze … But he needed more than a friend to back him up. He needed to find an army of like-minded patriots. Honor was al very wel for settling clan disputes, but it was pitiful y inadequate for fighting a war.

  He walked al the way back to Bekan. It took him hours, but he needed the time to think. As he walked along the highway, he saw serfs working in the fields, but stil very few Unggoy. Perhaps it was for the best. Sanghelios should never have al owed itself to rely on alien races, either as masters or servants.

  He stopped on the aqueduct to gaze out over the val ey. In the center of the Relon clan’s farmland, a fifty-span area of grass had been left untouched around the remnants of a Forerunner monument, an elegant but crumbling three-sided spire that had snapped off five meters above the soil. It was sacred ground, the handiwork of the gods, and not to be touched. As a child Jul had never dared say he thought it strange that gods should need to build ordinary things, and that many of those things would crumble in time just like any mortal’s work, but now he knew he’d been right.

  Even now that the Prophets had been exposed as liars, though, nobody had attempted to cross the boundary and plow up the grass.

  Does it matter? I think not.

  By the time Jul got back to his keep, it was long past the midafternoon mealtime. Children raced past him, hissing and squabbling. He grabbed one of the boys by his col ar and yanked him to a halt.

  “Discipline, Kimal,” he said. He noted that his sons weren’t in the unruly mob. Good. “You’re not infants, any of you. I expect better. ”

  “Sorry, my lord. ”

  Kimal slunk away. The sober mood spread through the others in a heartbeat. Jul climbed the steps to his own keep and went looking for Raia.

  He found her in her private chamber, doing the accounts for al the Bekan clan keeps, a time-consuming job that fel to the wife of the elder. It never improved her mood.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded. “Forze cal ed. He wants to talk to you. And you missed the meal. Is this what it’s going to be like now you’re back from the front? Wandering around wasting your time?”

  “I went to see Kaidon ‘Mdama. He’s going to support the Arbiter. ” Jul waited for an acid comment but none came. “Did Forze say what he wanted?”

  “He said that old man Relon’s going to blow up the holy spire. Seeing as the gods are dead, he didn’t think they’d mind him plowing the land to grow tubers. ”

  Jul found it odd to hear her talking so disrespectful y about the Forerunners. She’d always been the devout one in the marriage. Perhaps, like others, she was punishing the gods for letting liars and parasites deceive them and exploit them for so long.

  “Aren’t you offended by that?” he asked.

  Raia considered the question, eyes fixed on the accounts folio, al her jaws clenched.

  “It’l ruin a pretty view,” she said at last.

  Jul decided to leave wel alone and went to find some leftovers in the kitchens, braving the disapproving snaps and hisses of the older wives who were trying to clean up before the next meal. Raia was right. He was in danger of looking for something to fil his time, just like every other Sangheili warrior who suddenly had no war to fight.

  How do I wake my people? How do I galvanize them? The war isn’t over.

  He grabbed a couple of slices of roast meat on the way out, stopped to take an arum from one of the children in the courtyard, and went off to seek some clarity in the quiet at the top of the old watchtower. From the battlements, he could see right across the val ey on a clear day. He lost himself in the arum for a while, utterly absorbed in trying every permutation of movement until a distant explosion jerked him out of the puzzle.

  He stood up just as a second rumbling boom carried on the afternoon air, leaning on the edge of the stonework to look north. Smoke was rising into the air farther up the val ey. When it cleared, Jul realized that the sacred spire was gone.

  Relon had been as good as his word. Jul suspected it was another expression of the sense of betrayal, blaming the gods for three mil ennia of deceit. Gods, after al , should have been able to step in and bring the San’Shyuum to heel. They didn’t: so they were either neglectful gods not worth worshiping, or they didn’t exist at al . It was sobering to be alone in the universe.

  Raia didn’t pass comment on it at supper. Jul wondered whether to point it out to her but decided against it. He suspected there would be a rash of this destruction and then the novelty would wear off, and everyone would get on with their lives.

  After breakfast the next morning, he went to the armory to see what personal resources he had left. It was al smal arms. He couldn’t seize a ship, not even if he added Forze’s armaments and brothers to the raiding party. He would need to assemble a smal army to commandeer a frigate from a crew loyal to the Arbiter, and assassinations—perfectly legal chal enges to authority, an orderly and honorable way to resolve disputes— required personal weapons. Anything beyond that was dishonorable. It was also designed to stop feuds escalating into civil war.

  So how do I find like-minded Sangheili? How do these old laws apply to the situation we find ourselves in now?

  He was wondering whether to enlist his keep brothers in the plot when the ground beneath him shook a little. Then he heard three muffled whumps more like artil ery fire than tree clearance. But the Forerunner spire had already been destroyed; what was Relon doing, pulverizing the rubble? There were quieter ways to do that. Annoyed at the thoughtlessness of his neighbor, Jul stormed outside and activated his comms to cal Relon’s keep. The channel was dead. The old fool. He’d have to drive over to the keep and ask him to stop this nonsense.

  Jul cal ed Gusay to bring the Revenant. “Gusay, where are you?” Jul was in the outer courtyard now, wondering why he could hear the familiar sound of a Spirit dropship in the distance. “Gusay, I need to pay a visit to Relon. ”

  The comm channel was silent for a moment.

  “My lord, Relon’s keep is on fire. It’s been attacked. ”

  For an insane moment, Jul’s first thought was that the gods had final y chosen to make an appearance. The destruction of the spire had enraged them. No. That’s superstition to keep you in your place. You know that now. He was about to reply when the sound of the Spirit’s drives grew a lot louder and the dropship suddenly roared over the keep, heading south. By the time Jul got outside, the Spirit had dwindled to a speck in the distanc
e and a pal of smoke hung in the sky. Relon’s keep had probably been burning for some time, judging by the density and spread. The Revenant whined to a halt at the end of the path and Gusay beckoned him from the open cockpit, looking agitated.

  Raia shouted after them from an open window. “What’s happening? Is it Jiralhanae? Humans? How did they get past our defenses?”

  “It’s Sangheili, my lady,” Gusay cal ed back. “It’s our own. ”

  Jul sprang into the passenger section. “What do you mean, our own?”

  “The keep’s been hit by plasma cannon. ”

  “Impossible. ”

  “Why? Who would do that?”

  “No idea, my lord. ”

  Jul tried to make sense of it as Gusay steered along the line of the highway between the keeps. Other keeps in the area had already responded to the explosions. The Revenant joined a smal fleet of vessels and vehicles trying to get close to the burning buildings, and the kaidon’s transports seemed to be everywhere. Nobody could accuse Levu ‘Mdama of not coming to the aid of his client keeps.

  Jul stared as Gusay brought the Revenant to a halt. The main keep was just a stump of rubble shrouded in smoke. He knew only too wel what a plasma cannon strike looked like. He jumped down from the vehicle and went to walk through the gates, wondering why al the activity seemed to be in the courtyard and not the keep itself. The fire was cracking and hissing, but he could hear no roars of anger or panic. It was only when he turned a corner, gulping in a lungful of acrid smoke as the heat hit his face, that he understood why there was such silence.

  He didn’t take in the group of warriors, wives, and children clustered in the yard. He saw only what they were staring at. A scaffold of sorts had been made from a joist that jutted from the wal , and from it hung two objects that Jul took a few moments to recognize.

  It was Relon and his brother, Jalam, both very old warriors, and both dead. Beneath their dangling bodies—what was left of them—were pools and splashes of purple blood. They were so mutilated that it was hard even for a shipmaster like Jul, used to combat and the ugly scenes it left in its wake, to work out exactly what he was looking at, but he couldn’t drag his eyes from the horror even though he was desperate to look away. It took him some moments to realize Levu ‘Mdama was standing next to him, staring in silence too.

  A handwritten board hung from cords around Relon’s neck made the situation very clear. The script was stylized and ancient, more like the scrol s of the priests from before the time of the war with the San’Shyuum. But Jul could read it easily enough.

  We do not allow blasphemers to live The gods demand a return to piety Truth abides “I thought they were al talk,” Levu said quietly. “It seems that they’ve woken up again. They were everywhere when I was a boy. ”

  “Who?” Jul couldn’t work out why nobody was ushering the family away from the terrible scene. “How did they manage to do this in a keep?

  What are they?”

  “The Neru Pe ‘Odosima, ” Levu said. It was an ancient name in a form of Sangheili that was no longer spoken. “Fanatics. Fools. ”

  Jul recal ed the name. “The Servants of the Abiding Truth? But they were monks. ”

  “Wel , we let them became warriors, and now they’re dangerous, savage fools. And they seem to have stockpiled arms. ” The kaidon gestured to his aide to do something about the bodies. “Thun? Thun! Get those bodies down from there. Cover them. It’s not decent. ”

  Jul looked away from the slaughter and that brief lapse of attention let a stray thought cross his mind. He wished it hadn’t, because the sane, responsible elder in him said this was al utterly wrong, cowardly— dishonorable. These were just old warriors who’d served Sanghelios and the gods al their lives. But the thought wouldn’t go away.

  And there was no better idea to take its place.

  If these Neru Pe ‘Odosima would butcher venerable old men for blowing up a meaningless ruin, they would surely take on the Arbiter for turning al Sangheili from the gods.

  Abiding Truth was an existing network that Jul could draw on. Its fol owers were clearly wil ing to break every moral convention on disputes. Jul just had to work out how to organize and discipline them, and then he could bypass the kaidon and anyone else to bring down the Arbiter—and unite Sanghelios against the real threat that would inevitably return.

  He would have to do deals with monsters for the greater good. The rules of war had changed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHY DO WE BOTHER TO FORCE UNHAPPY COLONY WORLDS TO STAY IN THE UN FOLD? BECAUSE UNSC BUDGETS AND UNSC HEAVY LIFT ENABLED THOSE COLONIES TO EXIST. BECAUSE THE UNSC NEEDS AS MANY SUPPLY BASES IN DEEP SPACE AS IT CAN GET. AND BECAUSE THEY’RE HUMAN—THEY’RE US. IN A GALAXY OF HOSTILE ALIENS, YOU’RE EITHER FOR US, OR YOU’RE THE ENEMY.

  (ADMIRAL MARGARET O. PARANGOSKY, CINCONI, TO CAPTAIN SERIN OSMAN)

  FORERUNNER DYSON SPHERE, ONYX, FOUR HOURS INTO RECONNAISSANCE PATROL: LOCAL DATE NOVEMBER 2552.

  The passage ahead of Lucy wasn’t the tunnel it first appeared to be.

  It could have changed shape in the second that she’d looked away, or maybe her helmet optics were on the fritz, but the opening was at least six meters high, a black, featureless maw that didn’t appear to have interior wal s.

  Why make a door that big?

  She took a few steps inside, rifle raised, and flicked on the tactical lamp. Her visor flared for a moment. Nothing. The cavern swal owed the light and kicked her armor’s reactive coating into mottled black. She glanced down at her boots—now matte black, barely there—and realized she couldn’t see a floor underneath them. It triggered a brief, primal panic. For a moment she was fal ing. It took a conscious effort to look up and make herself believe that she was on solid ground. She struggled to trust what she could feel rather than what she could see.

  “Lucy? Hang on. ” It was Tom on the radio. “Lucy! Wait, wil you?”