Shadows of Reach: A Master Chief Story

by Troy Denning

  The gap, he realized, was due to differential cooling during the plasma bombardment. As the molten silica had run down the canyon wall, it had cooled faster on the outside than on the inside, and that had created a slumping effect leaving the lechatelierite thinner at the top than at the bottom—and opened a gap between the glass and the vertical face it was covering. The void was too small to serve as a fighting position, but it was a reminder to keep an eye out for similar openings as they crossed Arany Basin—both to avoid falling into one, and in case they needed someplace to take cover quickly.

  Linda and Fred flashed status green almost simultaneously, indicating they had reached the rim and stomped out their firing platforms. John couldn’t see them because they were around a bend, respectively a hundred and a hundred and fifty meters up-canyon. But he knew that as Blue Two, Fred would be watching the western quadrant of sky, above Arany Basin. As Blue Four, Linda would watch the eastern quadrant. Kelly was south, and John was north.

  John started with a horizontal scan, sweeping his eyes back and forth in short movements, searching the terrain directly in front of him to locate any craft flying nap-of-the-ground first, then working his way up the slope of the Ujeger Highlands and twenty degrees into the rainy sky to look for higher-flying craft. When he didn’t see any, he switched to vertical scanning, running his gaze up and down from the near terrain to the crest of the highlands, then from the crest to twenty degrees above.

  He repeated the entire process three times, scanning for five full minutes, before he finally saw a single dark speck crossing a handspan above the horizon. About a quarter the size of a raindrop, it was noticeable only because its horizontal motion made it stand out against the falling rain, and John was fairly certain he would have missed it entirely had it been hovering or diving toward him. He watched it long enough to establish that it was traveling across his frame of reference and not growing any larger. Then, just as it reached the edge of his observation arc, it reversed course and crossed the sky in the opposite direction.

  “I have one bogey at twenty degrees high,” he reported over TEAMCOM. “It’s in a holding pattern between nine o’clock and two.”

  “Nothing,” Fred said.

  “I have two bogeys at twenty degrees high,” Kelly said. “They’re circling between six o’clock and nine.”

  “Two bogeys at twenty degrees high,” Linda said. “Both are circling beyond Szeged Ridge, between six o’clock and three.”

  “And nothing to the west?” John asked. “Confirm, Blue Two?”

  “Confirmed,” Fred said. “Whatever’s happening in Arany Basin, they’re steering clear. Maybe we should’ve done the cliff descent after all.”

  “That’s a two-hundred-meter down-climb in the rain, with no cover and a hostile flight in a three-sided box block,” Kelly remarked. “I’d rather not.”

  “Those bogeys are quite high for a blocking patrol,” Van Houte said. Along with the rest of Special Crew, he was still back at the feeder ravine that Chapov had mentioned, excavating the bunker they would be holding until John and the others returned with transport. “It doesn’t sound as though they’re eager to attack.”

  “They don’t have to be eager,” John said. “They just have to be willing.”

  “I mean, it doesn’t sound like they’re prepared,” Van Houte said. “How far away are they?”

  John had his computer run an angle-of-measure assessment, but the fighter craft was so distant it was impossible to determine whether the speck was a Banshee or a Seraph. He chose the reading for Banshees, since it would result in a smaller distance and a more conservative estimate.

  “At least a hundred kilometers,” John said.

  “I estimate the same,” Kelly added. “Though it could be two hundred, if I’m looking at Seraphs instead of Banshees.”

  “I am looking at Seraphs,” Linda said. As the sniper, she carried superior optics and targeting software. “And I have them at two hundred and two kilometers.”

  “Ah,” said Van Houte. “That explains it.”

  “Not to me,” John said.

  “It’s a surveillance flight,” Van Houte said. “They’re just trying to keep track of us.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “How is a patrol that far away going to attack anything?” Van Houte asked. “By the time they arrive, you’ll have gone to ground and disappeared.”

  “Or set up an anti-aircraft battery and be waiting,” Chapov said. “The major is right. Surveillance is the only thing they can be doing.”

  “Why the devil would they surveil us?” Kelly asked. “The excavation machines aren’t difficult to track. They must know where we are.”

  “Yeah,” Fred said. “And they also know that the last time they tried to strafe us, they lost three-quarters of a squadron.”

  “Then you think they’re waiting for ground troops?” Linda asked. “That makes sense.”

  “Glad you think so.” Fred’s voice grew eager. “And if they’re going to bring a bunch of Phantoms or Spirits up here—”

  “Then we’re not going down there,” John finished. “We just need to be sure we’re set up in the right place when they arrive.”

  “What if they bring a larger force than we can handle?” Chapov asked.

  “This is no time for jokes,” Fred said. “We’re trying to plan.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “No you aren’t,” Mukai said. “Spartans, remember?”

  John began to consider the plan modifications they would have to make in order to capture their transport in the middle of a ground assault. Eliminating the bulk of the enemy force in a single quick strike would be the key to success.

  “The canyon will be a good place for a rockslide ambush,” John said. “Start drilling fifty meters from the bunker in both directions—”

  “I see what you’re planning, Master Chief,” Mukai said. “Suck the buggers in and bury them.”

  “Affirmative,” John said. “Blue Two will help you with the charges. The rest of Blue Team will capture transport and disable pursuit.”

  Blue Team’s status LEDs winked green inside John’s HUD, but Van Houte was not as quick to agree.

  “I see only one problem with that plan,” he said. “Those Seraphs aren’t waiting on ground troops.”

  John scowled inside his helmet. “They’re waiting on something.”

  “Yes, us,” Van Houte said. “If they were waiting on ground troops, they would be ready to keep us pinned down. Instead, they’re up high, trying not to be noticed.”

  The major had a point. It would take the Seraphs five minutes or so to travel the 202 kilometers from their patrol stations to Tárnoc Gorge, and that could be an eternity in combat.

  “So what are they doing?” John asked. He hated not understanding his enemy’s objective. It was a good way to blow a mission. “Waiting until we move to a less defensible position?”

  “You expect me to know what a bunch of aliens are thinking?” Van Houte asked. “I’m just telling you what makes sense from an air commander’s perspective.”

  John knew the principles of tactical air support, but he was accustomed to thinking about them from an infantryman’s point of view. For the most part, that came down to calling in strikes when air superiority was friendly, and hiding from them when it was hostile.

  “Understood,” John replied. “So we see what happens. If they try to pin us down, we break for cover and set up to capture transport here. If they let us go, we continue with the original plan and capture transport in the basin. Thoughts?”

  No one spoke for a moment; then Fred finally said, “I think it’s the best we can do.”

  After everyone acknowledged their agreement, John and Kelly clambered over the rim and started across the glassy slope toward Szeged Ridge. Linda would catch up as soon as it grew apparent that her SRS99-S5 antimateriel sniper rifle would not be needed to discourage a strafing run, while Fred would descend into the canyon to help with def
ensive preparations. That was all according to the original plan, and John could not see a better alternative.

  But it bothered him that the enemy might be hanging back simply to surveil them. That suggested not only a disciplined force, but one more interested in determining what Blue Team was doing on Reach than in destroying it—and that kind of restraint was more of a Keeper trait than Banished. So John didn’t know how to explain the Banished emblem on the downed Seraph. And he didn’t understand why whoever was tracking them wouldn’t make the logical assumption—that the Spartans had come to help the rehab pioneers defend themselves.

  Linda’s voice came over TEAMCOM. “Inbound. Two Seraphs, coming from the north. Four minutes out.”

  “Anything from the other directions?” John asked.

  “Negative.”

  “So, not a serious attack,” Fred said.

  “Perhaps they’re just trying to get a look,” Van Houte said. “From a two-hundred-kilometer standoff, they would have a hard time telling power armor from a vehicle. All they would see is an object indication—and quite an indistinct one, at that.”

  “Assuming what kind of sensors?” Kelly asked.

  “Assuming any kind,” Van Houte said. “This isn’t space, and Seraphs don’t have quantum imaging equipment. They’re stuck with the same electromagnetic spectrum we are.”

  John contemplated the ramifications. While the ancient Forerunners had used quantum-scanning sensor systems that even Dr. Halsey claimed not to understand, it was one of the handful of technologies that the Covenant had never been able to properly replicate. The enemy had been limited to exploiting the electromagnetic spectrum in the same two ways the UNSC had: by actively emitting signals and searching for the reflections, or by passively searching for the radiation that all solid bodies emitted merely by existing in a state above absolute zero.

  Both methods had limitations, especially when attempting to track and identify objects against a planetary surface. An active signal would bounce off the surrounding terrain, creating background clutter that had to be separated from the intended target. A passive system would need to distinguish between ambient radiation and that coming from the target. In either system, accuracy decreased and computational requirements increased exponentially with distance.

  Meaning: at two hundred kilometers against a background of glassed ground, those Seraphs would be doing well to resolve a pinpoint blur. It would be even harder to identify the sensor signature of a target they rarely encountered. If those alien pilots wanted to see what was moving down here, they would need to come in a lot closer.

  And that would give John a chance to test their resolve.

  Szeged Ridge was only a kilometer away. He and Kelly could cover that distance in ninety seconds and dig in, then arrange a nice little surprise as the Seraphs completed their strafing run.

  Assuming they made a strafing run.

  “Blue Two, stay up on the rim and help Blue Four make sure they know looking isn’t going to be free. Blue Three, we’ll dig in behind the ridge. Everyone else, work on getting those excavation machines out of there.”

  “Then you don’t believe they’re waiting on ground troops anymore?” Chapov asked.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” John put an edge into his voice. “Are you going to follow orders, Lieutenant, or will I need to explain myself every time I issue a command under movement?”

  “Sorry, Master Chief,” Chapov said. “I just wanted clarification.”

  “Clarification is fine. When it’s needed.”

  John and Kelly sprinted across the hillside. The slope was tipped just enough to make running awkward, so they traversed at a slight uphill angle until they crossed a gully and began to ascend straight up to the ridge crest.

  “Our two bandits are diving,” Linda said.

  “Strafing run?” John asked.

  “Too early to know.”

  Linda’s status LED flashed green. John checked his HUD and found a time-to-engagement of two minutes, with the crest of the ridge just two hundred meters away. They wouldn’t have much time to dig—just smash a trough in the lechatelierite and lie flat.

  Kelly was already crossing the ridge. She pulled the shotgun off her magmount and fired five rounds into the top, spraying bits of glass everywhere to create a scrape. Such hastily-made fighting positions were barely deep enough to lie in.

  “That one’s yours,” she said, reloading and moving away.

  John angled toward the first scrape and saw that in three spots, the shotgun rounds had penetrated through into a shallow cavity where the molten lechatelierite had flowed down the slope before cooling. It wasn’t much, maybe another fifty centimeters, but he’d take what he could get.

  He checked his HUD—seventy-five seconds before the Seraphs arrived—then stomped around the edges of the shotgun holes to enlarge his fighting pit.

  The cracks of four sniper rounds rolled across the slope, then Linda spoke over TEAMCOM. “Strafing run!”

  John kicked away a few last nubs, then grabbed his MA40 off its magmount and dropped to his knees inside the fighting pit. The depth was good, just shallow enough that he could peer over the ridge crest and see the fork-tailed disks of two Seraphs diving toward Tárnoc Gorge. Their plasma cannons were spitting bright red dashes into the rim, and the shields on the lead craft were flickering with overload static.

  Linda’s SRS99-S5 cracked four more times. The lead’s shields went down and a lower cannon began to bleed flames. Two breaths later, a pair of Fred’s rockets streaked up from the rim and hit it in the belly. The first strike bounced off and detonated in front of the trailing craft, temporarily hiding it from view. The second punched a hole through the armor and set the lead craft wobbling.

  Both Seraphs pulled their noses up and crossed over the canyon toward Szeged Ridge. Linda fired again, and the leader went higher, trailing sparks and smoke as he fled the battle. The other Seraph continued to approach John and Kelly, its plasma cannons stitching twin lines toward their positions. With little more than their rifle muzzles and the crowns of their helmets showing above the ridge crest, it seemed impossible the alien pilot could actually see them—but his targeting was dead-on.

  Linda fired again, but if she did any damage, John couldn’t see it. He aimed his MA40 into the sky just ahead of the ridge and opened fire, trying to put a wall of bullets into the air for the Seraph to fly into. He heard Kelly’s assault rifle rattling and knew she was doing the same.

  The Seraph ceased its attack and veered away—though not quickly enough to avoid flying through the gunfire the two Spartans had put up. Its shields flickered and went down, and John saw their rounds sparking against its hull armor.

  “Did you see that?” Kelly asked over TEAMCOM.

  “Hard to miss.” John watched the Seraph climb away over the valley behind them. “He stopped his attack.”

  “They always do,” Fred said, also speaking over TEAMCOM. “Eventually.”

  “No, this one stopped prematurely,” Kelly said. “As soon as we opened fire and revealed our positions, he shut down his cannons.”

  “Why would he do that?” Fred asked.

  “Because he had no wish to hit his targets,” Linda said. “You’re the one who said this wasn’t a serious attack.”

  “As in ‘not trying hard,’ ” Fred said. “I didn’t mean they were faking it.”

  “But they did.” John watched the Seraph that had just overflown them climb over the highlands on the opposite side of the valley; it showed no signs of wheeling around for another attack run. “That pilot was more afraid of killing us than of being killed himself.”

  “Then the Banished can’t be trying to stop us,” Van Houte said. “They must be hoping to follow us.”

  “To where?” Fred asked. “CASTLE Base?”

  “To wherever we’re going,” Van Houte said. “It could be that they’re only trying to learn what we’re doing here on Reach. Or perhaps they hope we’ll lea
d them to a cache of valuable weapons. Who can say?”

  “What if they already know why we’re here?” asked Chapov.

  John didn’t bother asking how a Spartan mission could have been compromised. Such a thing was highly unlikely… but it had happened before, and there were plenty of ways for it to occur: spies, signal intercepts, eavesdropping devices, intelligence analysis, even lucky guesses. So the possibility, however remote, had to be considered.

  “Do you know something we don’t?” John returned to scanning the northern quarter of the sky for incoming fighter craft, as the other members of Blue Team would be doing for their own sectors.

  “No. I don’t have proof, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “But?”

  “But… this feels like more than a coincidence,” Chapov replied. “A flight of Seraphs waiting at SWORD Base when we’re inserting overhead—maybe that’s just a bad break. But flights positioned all over Eposz, ideally located to intercept us?”

  “Their positioning wasn’t quite perfect,” Van Houte said. “But it was damn unlucky for us.”

  “Right. And instead of destroying us, they only force us down,” Chapov continued. “Then, after we somehow manage to slip away from the crash site intact, they pretend to strafe us, just so they can take a closer look at what we’re doing. I have to say that they’re sure acting like they might be worried about destroying something we’re carrying.”

  “Something like a pair of biometric gloves and lenses?” Kelly asked. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “No,” Chapov said. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “That’s understandable,” John said.

  Blue Team was carrying two sets of biometric spoofers, a primary and a backup. Both contained the data they would need to access Dr. Halsey’s secret vault in CASTLE Base. Without them, any attempt to bypass the security system would trigger a self-destruct protocol—and incinerate the very assets Blue Team had been sent to retrieve.

  And without those critical assets, Cortana might be forever beyond Dr. Halsey’s reach.

  “It’s probably not a realistic fear, though,” John continued. “A lot of people aboard Infinity were aware of our mission, sure. But the only ones who know about the biometric spoofers are Dr. Halsey, Captain Lasky, and us.”