Halo: Ghosts of Onyx

by Eric S. Nylund

  The Spartans straightened, their involuntary response when in the presence of an officer.

  "I am therefore assuming command of this mission," Kurt said.

  No one said a word for a moment… and then Fred snapped off, "Yes, sir."

  Something was different in Fred's voice. A bit of the familiar-ity was missing, but there

  was something else: respect.

  Kurt gave Blue Team a quick nod, and then turned to Dr. Halsey. "Ma'am, I want you to continue your analysis of the Zone 67 documents on the Forerunners. I expect an update on your progress in two hours."

  Dr. Halsey arched an eyebrow. She said nothing and slowly sat down, returning to her

  computer.

  Kurt inwardly sighed. That was one battle won today.

  Olivia's green status light flashed twice—the signal for "friendly approaching."

  A ripple crossed the entrance to the hollow, part shadow, part rock, and then the SPI

  camouflage resolved into Olivia. "Sentinel pair," she whispered. "Half a kilometer south, sir. Moving this direction in a search pattern."

  Kurt said, "Everyone, get ready to move out. Kelly, limber up; you're our rabbit."

  "Happy to oblige, sir." She made the two-fingered signal over her faceplate, the traditional Spartan smile.

  The others nodded.

  Kurt knew they'd follow him, into battle, and right to the gates of hell if he ordered it. He had a feeling it might come to that.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  1810 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, PLANET ONYX NEAR RESTRICTED REGION ZONE 67

  Kurt had seen snipers zero their instruments before, but never for an extreme-range, near-vertical target.

  Linda took the task as seriously as a surgeon preparing for a heart transplant. She cleared a patch of rocky ground and laid out a camo mat so dust wouldn't foul her SRS99CS2 AM rifle. Next she opened a kit that contained tools, bottles of cleaner and lubricant, several magazines for her rifle, a box of 14.5x114mm ammunition, and a tiny datapad. She selected one of the magazines and inspected it; satisfied, she opened the box of ammo and removed one of the rounds: super-hardened red polymer petals surrounded a finned tungsten dart. She spun it around and looked at the cartridge base. Opposite the legend "51" it bore the winged hourglass headstamp flanked by double "X"s—signifying that it was hand-loaded match-grade ammo from Misrah Armories on Mars. She slid the magazine into the rifle.

  Next she linked her Oracle scope to the datapad and made microcalibrations. She finally sat, butted the rifle to her shoulder, and then leaned back flat and sighted up at the sky.

  "Ready," she said over single-beam COM. Her voice was detached and trancelike.

  "Eyes sharp," Kurt told everyone.

  The Spartans had moved from the rendezvous hollow to the

  high ground among broken canyons and mesas where Team Saber had first encountered the Sentinels. Kurt had them spread out along both sides of the valley.

  Kelly stood in a gravel wash in the center of the valley and scanned the horizon, waiting for the double Sentinel to spot her. The sun was high and her shadow was a wavering spot at her feet.

  For someone who was bait, she looked perfectly at ease.

  The tunnel where Dante had rigged the opening and exit with charges was a quarter kilometer away from her position. Just far enough.

  The tricky part of this plan would be to get the Sentinel pair into the tunnel, instead of staying high and blasting Kelly while she was inside. Would they continue their "game" of cat

  and mouse, or was the data-collection phase of their operation over?

  Either way, Kurt had placed his friend in grave danger.

  Kelly looked up to Kurt's position and activated her single beam. "I see it," she said. "Two

  khcks away. I'm going to tap its shoulder."

  "Go, Blue Two," he said. "Keep your head."

  Kurt held up a hand, made a fist, and pumped it twice—the "get ready" signal for the rest

  of the team. Kelly took a shot at the drone pair with her MAB5—an impossible target with an assault

  rifle, but it wasn't meant to hit, just to get the thing's attention.

  The Sentinel turned to the report of gunfire and accelerated toward her.

  Will reported over single beam: "Overwatch spotted, eleven o'clock, elevation twenty-four

  hundred meters. Wind is three knots from the northwest."

  Kurt relayed this to Linda.

  Her status light wavered amber as she made a slight adjustment in her position, angling

  her rifle up, and then frozen. On

  either side, Tom and Lucy hefted missile launchers, waiting for her order to fire.

  Meanwhile, the combined Sentinel pair plunged toward Kelly.

  She stood there, watching it.

  Holly moved close to Kurt, her assault rifle uselessly aimed at the incoming drone. "Is

  she fast enough?"

  "Kelly's the fastest Spartan," Kurt whispered.

  That didn't answer her question, though: was she fast enough. Kurt didn't know.

  The Sentinel pair was half a kilometer away. One of the spheres heated and light

  flashed. Kelly took three sidesteps as the ground where she had been standing vaporized.

  Globules of molten rock spattered off her MJOLNIR armor's energy shield.

  She made an ancient and arcane gesture at the machine with one finger.

  Mark joined Holly and Kurt. "No way," he breathed.

  Kelly turned and ran, leaving a plume of dust in her wake.

  The diving Sentinels accelerated to two hundred kilometers an hour. A golden lance flashed from its center of mass— detonating the earth under her feet.

  Kelly tucked into a ball, tumbled, and came up running without breaking stride.

  She sprinted straight into the tunnel.

  The Sentinels' hexagonal geometry fluttered along its drive trajectory. A mere five meters over the gravel wash and screaming toward the tunnel—it had no time to pull up.

  It chased her down the hole.

  Kelly appeared silhouetted at the mouth, golden illumination blazing behind her—

  —and the tunnel exploded.

  Cones of fire shot out both ends. The superheated overpressure wave blurred the image of Kelly as she was propelled through the air, end over end.

  The hill collapsed, and a hundred tons of earth crushed the Sentinel pair. Sand, stone, and dust blasted out in feathery jets.

  Kelly's body impacted a rock wall, and fell limp to the gravel wash.

  Kurt signaled Team Saber to get down there and help. He wanted to rush to her side as well, but he had to stay here and ensure the long-shot part of their operation succeeded. Or, failing that, devise a retreat.

  Linda was still locked in place, tracking the overwatch Sentinel. Tom and Lucy knelt on either side, missiles ready.

  Kurt squinted along the angle of their aim. Hanging in the air, over two kilometers away, was a single dot, their target.

  They had to get it or the Sentinel would report their position and send for reinforcements… which wouldn't fall for this trick again.

  "Target off-center, starboard boom," Linda whispered to Lucy and Tom. "Forward point,"

  They adjusted their aims. "Locked on target," Tom replied.

  "Fire," Linda said softly.

  Twin plumes of exhaust washed over them as the missiles screamed into the air.

  The overwatch Sentinel turned toward the incoming projectiles and its energy shield shimmered golden.

  Linda's rifle muzzle flashed. Without seeming to move a molecule she fired until the magazine was empty.

  The missiles impacted—smoke and flames ballooned about the Sentinel.

  A heartbeat later, the winds blew the discharge cloud aside… the Sentinel jerked, and plummeted.

  Linda got to her feet.

  The Sentinel scattered as it fell, center sphere and three bo
oms spinning out of control until they impacted.

  "Go," he told them. "Make sure it's dowm."

  Kurt didn't waste another second on the Sentinel; he turned back to the ravine and ran— toward Kelly.

  He scanned Kelly's bio signs: erratic heartbeat, falling blood pressure, low body temperature. She was in borderline shock.

  Kurt skidded to a halt in the ravine as Ash and Holly propped her up.

  "I'm sorry, sir," Ash said. "The Sentinels were three meters from the exit. If I had waited any longer it would have cleared the trap. It would have shot her. I couldn't take that chance."

  Kelly shook her head—not to disagree, rather to clear her senses. Her bio signs perked.

  "He's right," she whispered and coughed. "The kid did good." She gave Ash the thumbs-up signal.

  Ash bowed his head.

  Kurt breathed a sigh of relief that Kelly had survived. He'd risked her life to gain a slim advantage over the enemy—he now had to use it wisely.

  "What's next?" Fred asked.

  Kurt told them, "Now we have an opportunity. If that over-watch Sentinel didn't get a fix on our position we'll have some room to maneuver and take the initiative."

  "Maneuver where?" Holly asked.

  "Zone 67," Kurt said. "It's the center of everything. If there's any technology to be recovered other than broken Sentinel parts, it's going to be there."

  "Patrols get denser the farther north we've gone, sir," Dante noted.

  "It'll be dusk soon," Kurt said, "enough time to circle back to Blue Team's dropship. The sun will be setting and we'll fly it in low, get some camouflage from the long shadows. The rocks in these canyons have been baking all day and we'll have thermal cover, too."

  Kurt surveyed his team. "Unless there's a better idea?"

  His gaze fell on Dr. Halsey as she and Chief Mendez made their way down the valley

  slope. She stared at him as if she could see through his mirrored faceplate.

  "Okay, stay sharp. Olivia, Will, Linda, scout ahead. No COM chatter. Let's get this done."

  Dr. Halsey watched Kurt give detailed instructions to the Spartans.

  She didn't care what his orders were so much as how he was saying it, and the effect it had on them. He spoke with confidence, but there was also warmth and pride in his voice. She'd never heard any Spartan so demonstrative. Certainly Kelly would crack the rare joke, but that was just a layer of emotional armor.

  Kurt was different.

  The Spartans, young and old, responded to him. There was the usual Spartan stoicism and no questions asked, but there were also nods, slight tilts of their heads—the involuntary indication of rapt attention. Kurt was their leader now.

  That fact might serve her well in the upcoming crisis.

  Of course he was hiding something about his SPARTAN-IIIs. If the mute psychologically damaged Lucy was any indication of what this secret was, Dr. Halsey could only guess at its horrors.

  But as the end neared, she would have no choice but to trust Kurt. She would have to trust them all to forgive the lies she had told about the treasure trove of Forerunner technologies.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  1950 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, PLANET ONYX NEAR RESTRICTED REGION ZONE 67

  Kurt stood behind Kelly and Will in the Covenant dropship's cockpit. Kelly sat in the pilot's seat while Will manned the gunner's station and watched the scanners. The other Spartans, Mendez, and Dr. Halsey were aft, readying equipment, waiting, and watching.

  Kelly shifted back and forth—the pilot's seat was angled wrong for human physiology, and she leaned awkwardly over the control surface.

  She took the ship in low and fast over the jungle. The controls were an odd assemblage of holographic geometries that danced before her hands.

  Kurt tried to learn as much as he could in case he had to fly the alien ship. It was difficult, however, to watch her and not the viewscreens.

  The sun was a hand's breadth from the edge of the horizon, and the Covenant ship passed through long shadows and dim red light.

  As the jungle thinned, Kelly dropped and swerved between acacia trees, skimming two meters over the grassland.

  Without looking up from her controls, Kelly said, "Piece of cake, LC. Relax."

  She smoothed her hand over an acceleration stripe and the ship leapt forward—zipping off the savanna and over the broken canyon lands.

  Kelly maneuvered aggressively—jinking up and down, performing quarter rolls to veer around mesas, dropping into ravines and pulling up at the last instant to avoid a crash headlong into a wall.

  "Great," Kurt whispered to Kelly. He forced himself to release the edge of her seat.

  Dead ahead the slope of a mountain angled gently up over two thousand meters.

  "Nothing airborne on sensors," Will announced. "Clear sailing ahead."

  "Status on the warheads?" Kurt asked over the COM.

  Ash clicked on the channel. "All FENRIS warhead detonators now secure and slaved to

  our secure COM signal, sir. As ordered, two warheads cut down, armed, and ready for transport. Working on the rest."

  "Hang on!" Kelly cried.

  The nose of the ship jerked up. A rock the size of a Warthog tumbled down the mountain slope—clipping the undercarriage of the ship.

  The dropship spun, but Kelly expertly rolled, righted, and got them back on course.

  "Close," she muttered.

  "Rescan for surface motion," Kurt ordered Will.

  Will swept the camera angle port and starboard.

  Kurt saw they weren't on a single mountain; it was a range-all equivalent elevation, extending in a gentle arc as far as he could see.

  "Motion detected," Will said. "Just appeared, sir. Ahead. Got a target lock."

  A silhouette resolved on the viewscreen, outlined by the glare of the setting sun.

  Kelly came hard to port.

  As their relative angle changed, Kurt saw motion: earth and rocks shot up and then cascaded down the slope.

  Will slid his hand over his controls and polarized the monitor, cutting the glare. The motion came from a collection of thirty interlaced Sentinels, their booms and center spheres assembled into an oblong shape, and through its center traveled a continuous stream of stone.

  To Kurt it looked like a mechanical worm regurgitating over the mountainside. Dr. Halsey clambered into the cockpit. "No energy spikes detected," Will said. "They're not ready to fire." Kurt swallowed. "Steady on this heading," he told Kelly. He watched the giant machine recede behind them. It had to have seen them. Thirty sets

  of eyes wouldn't have missed something as large as a Covenant dropship. Why hadn't it attacked?

  Dr. Halsey tapped a control and one of the viewscreens jumped back to the combined Sentinels. She studied this a moment, and then declared, "Tinkertoys."

  "I don't understand the reference," Kurt said.

  "An ancient child's toy," she said, "sticks and flat round connectors. These may be the Forerunners' counterpart. They reconfigure to accomplish various tasks, having all the required basic components: antigravity units, force-field generators, energy projector weaponry It is the equivalent, I suspect, of the simple machines that comprise our technology: the wheel, the ramp, lever, pulley, and screw."

  Her casual analysis of a technology centuries more advanced than theirs irritated Kurt.

  "I'd say in this configuration," Dr. Halsey continued, "it is not designed for combat, and will not attack… unless, of course, they were provoked. Their programming, while sophisticated, appears dedicated; that is, each Sentinel combination special-izes lor a single

  task. And right now, that task is moving dirt."

  "Doesn't mean there aren't more combat pairs around," Kelly said. "Orders, sir?"

  Kurt detected the slightest edge of nervousness in Kelly's voice. He felt it, too, in the pit

  of his gut. If those thirty Sentinels back there had wanted to, they could have
blasted this ship into shrapnel.

  There were only two options; go forward or retreat.

  Kurt felt like his luck had run dry, but he also felt like they were close to finding something.

  He longed for the days of simple missions when there were only two things to worry about: maneuvering and where your team's lines of fire were.

  Yet, when you broke it down to its components, forgot the consequences of success or failure, wasn't this mission the same as any other?

  Move and fire. Find a target to capture or neutralize. Minimize casualties while inflicting maximum damage on your enemy. Get in quick. Get out quicker.

  "New course," he told Kelly "Come ninety degrees to starboard. Take us up that mountainside."

  "Aye, sir."

  The tuning fork-shaped dropship banked and raced up the slope. The earth vanished under them as they crested the summit.

  Beyond was a crater a hundred kilometers in diameter.

  There were thousands of the earthmovers on the inner slope— all spewing rocks over the edge. The Sentinels had created a giant anthill. How much, Kurt wondered, had ONI cleared in the decades they had been here? And how much of this was the Sentinels' doing?

  At lower elevations there was nothing to see. The sun was too low, and shadows pooled. Kurt boosted image enhancement on his heads-up display and faint lines resolved… but nothing made sense.

  "Take us in closer," he whispered.

  Kelly angled the ship down the interior slope, reducing their speed to one-quarter.

  The clouds overhead lit with oranges and reds as the setting sunlight reflected off their undersides… and the crater interior glowed a faint amber.

  Kurt blinked, dazzled by what he saw. Mirror-image clouds drifted upon angled surfaces and burned crimson and gold.

  As his eyes adjusted, he saw swirls and bands of other muted colors underlying the reflected images: green stripes and black and silver waves that appeared to be a tempest ocean frozen in place.

  He blinked once, twice, and then finally unraveled the optical illusion of patterns, colors, and shadow.

  There were pillars and arches, elevated aqueducts; columned temples with crowns of three-dimensional Forerunner symbols; a forest of sculpted geometries of spheres, cubes, and tori; roads that curved up and twisted into Mobius surfaces—it was a vast alien city.