Outcasts, page 12
“As you wish. We can always switch to my tactics when yours prove unproductive.”
‘Vadam waited until the Owl had grown too distant to see without aid, then turned toward the cave interior. No more than five meters wide, it lay in a tipped bedding plane between two faces of dark rock, sloping upward at an angle not quite steep enough to call vertical.
Petrov and her subordinates were thirty paces back, half-hidden in the darkness that seemed to seep from the murky depths beyond. They were kneeling on the silty floor, unarmed and surrounded by Sangheili warriors. But their limbs remained unrestrained and the hands of their captors were free of weapons, an acknowledgment that the humans were no longer enemies. Their angry glares and furtive glances suggested the gesture was not entirely appreciated.
‘Vadam motioned Petrov forward and, when she arrived, pointed outside. If the ground undulations had diminished at all, it was not noticeably. The crest of the crater rim was barely visible above the dust bank, a low rocky slope hiding the base of the distant tel.
“Tell me what happened,” ‘Vadam said in English. His tone was curt and demanding, for he had lost thirty warriors in a cental, and it angered him. It was not her fault—in fact, he might well have lost all of their lives and his own as well, had it not been for her warning—but he was in no mood to show gratitude. The shock was still too raw. “Tell me now.”
Petrov’s brow rose, and she turned to stare up at him with round eyes. “You don’t know?”
“I do not. If I did, I would not be hiding in a cave with you while half my warriors lie smeared across the desert floor.”
“Good point.” The corners of Petrov’s mouth twitched ever so slightly upward, and she asked, “The war is really over?”
“Would you still be alive were it not?”
“I suppose not. But that doesn’t make us allies.”
“We are not enemies, though,” ‘Vadam said. Petrov was diminutive compared to ‘Vadam, little more than a third his mass and so short she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. Yet he found himself watching her with the same wariness he would any kaidon of suspect loyalties. “And soon, we might well become allies.”
“Yeah… negative that.” Petrov turned to stare toward the tel summit, and ‘Vadam thought for a moment her human eyes were even sharper than Varo’dai’s. But when she spoke, her tone betrayed no hint of the excitement he would have expected had she been able to see the Owl. “The war here isn’t over. I doubt it ever will be.”
“I did not take you for such a fool. I have freely promised far more than you could ever hope to win by continuing this fight… unless death is all you desire.”
“If I wanted that, I’d have it by now. Death is easy to find on Netherop.” Petrov pointed her chin at the tel. “It’s them I’m worried about, not you.”
Recalling that earlier Petrov had referred to the tel as a citadel, ‘Vadam asked, “The tel is inhabited?”
“Of course it’s inhabited. Who do you think destroyed those dropships?”
“I have no idea.”
“You did.” Petrov used her fingers to mimic the four mandibles of a Sangheili mouth snapping shut. “Hinge-heads.”
“That is not a name we appreciate,” ‘Vadam warned. “We call ourselves Sangheili.”
“Well then… there are Sangheili holed up in that place. As many as ten of them… and they are still at war.”
It took ‘Vadam a moment to grasp the full implication of Petrov’s words, though he was not sure why. Warriors vanished during every planetary battle, and it would be folly to assume all of them had been killed. Some simply failed to return in time to extract with their unit, while others were trapped behind enemy lines or too wounded to move. A few probably even deserted, especially on the more habitable planets. What he found surprising, he realized, was that more than thirty human years after the original battle here on N’ba, there were still survivors on both sides—and they were still very much fighting as if the war raged on.
“You are worthy warriors,” ‘Vadam said. “How long have you kept your enemies trapped inside their citadel?”
Petrov looked at her wrist, as though instinctively checking a chronometer that was not there, then spread her palms. “Netherop is a hard place to track time.” She glanced back into the cave, toward the humans seated on the floor. “But my soldiers back there? Most of them were born right here, in this cave.”
‘Vadam was not adept at judging human ages, but he knew that humans did not generally reproduce until they attained twenty years. And several of Petrov’s subordinates looked old enough to have young of their own. “That is a long time to hold a siege.”
“I guess you could call it a siege. Except we’re the ones starving. The enemy seems to have a bottomless pantry in there.”
“Then why continue?” ‘Ayomuu asked in English. “Did it not occur to you to go someplace where you could live in peace and feed yourselves?”
Petrov snapped her gaze toward the Oath Warden. “That would make us deserters. Soldiers don’t cower at a safe distance. They find the enemy and kill them.”
“A pointless sacrifice is never noble,” ‘Ayomuu said.
“It’s not pointless. It’s attrition. We replace our losses. They don’t.”
“Ah.” ‘Ayomuu glanced back toward the young soldiers deeper in the cave. “Because you reproduce.”
Petrov nodded. “Sooner or later, that citadel will be ours. All we have to do is keep picking them off.”
“Your resolve is worthy of a Spartan,” ‘Vadam said. At the start of the War of Annihilation, he had thought humans as spineless as sloods and treated them as such while slaughtering countless of their kind. But over time, he came to understand that their treachery was rooted more in perseverance and cunning than in cowardice. In a fight for survival, humans would do anything to prevail… even if it meant betraying their own honor. “But your determination is no longer required. The war you fight is over. I have said you will be returned to the UNSC, and you will be. Is that understood?”
“Would you still be alive if it weren’t?” A glimmer of what appeared to be amusement flashed across Petrov’s face. “I could have kept quiet about the reconciliation wave.”
“A good point,” ‘Vadam said, using a phrase the human had employed earlier. “How do you know that is what it is? A reconciliation wave?”
“Just a theory. Before the claw strike—”
“I am sorry.” All ‘Vadam had seen of the actual attack was a white flash from inside the cave as he issued orders and made sure the humans were not attacked. “Did you say claw?”
“That’s what it looks like. A big bolt of white energy that shoots out of the top of the citadel and… well, shreds stuff. What else would you call it?”
“Claw will work for now. But how does it create this reconciliation wave?”
“We’re not sure. Before it strikes, a fissure opens in the top of the citadel. From high enough up the mountain, it looks like a slipspace portal. And if it is a portal…”
“Then there would be causal reconciliation when it closes.” ‘Vadam was beginning to wonder whether the tel actually contained the Guardian-killing weapon itself… or merely some sort of slipspace lens that focused its energies. “How many times have you seen the weapon strike?”
In response, Petrov did a strange thing, raising a finger in front of her brow and wagging it in the air between them. “Not so fast. I have my own questions. If that drop wasn’t yours, whose was it?”
“Tell her it was Kig-Yar,” ‘Ayomuu said in Sangheili. “If she finds out there are humans in orbit, she will never help us.”
“And if she already realizes that, she is merely testing my honor,” ‘Vadam answered, also in Sangheili. “And if she decides I have none, how will I be able to trust her?”
“It is worth the risk. She has no communications device. How could she know who is in orbit?”
Before ‘Vadam could reply, Petrov said, “Uh-huh. That’s all the answer I need.”
She turned and started toward the back of the cave. ‘Vadam reached out to stop her. She was so tiny that when he draped his hand over her shoulder, his fingertips were almost at her elbow.
“You have not heard my answer.”
“Yes, I have. Whatever lie you were just cooking up, I’m not interested.”
“You should be careful who you insult. Not all Sangheili are as patient as I am.”
She stared down at ‘Vadam’s hand, as though contemplating whether she was quick enough to draw her combat knife and lop it off. “Am I free to go? Or was that stuff about us no longer being enemies just your first lie?”
‘Vadam released her. “You may go, if that is your desire.” He told Varo’dai and ‘Talot to have their warriors move away from the humans, then turned back to Petrov. “We will alert the UNSC to your presence here, of course. But I suspect you already know what a mistake you would be making.”
“Why don’t you spell it out for me?”
“Since you insist.” ‘Vadam paused and cast a dramatic gaze upward, looking into the murky recesses angling away overhead. So distant was the roof that he could see no hint of it, only a faint glimmer of reflection on the dark stone. “By refusing our help, you will only be placing more human lives in danger. Unnecessarily.”
“More?” Petrov’s tone was more disappointed than surprised. “So that was a human drop the claw destroyed?”
“Almost certainly.”
‘Vadam paused to let her contemplate the ramifications and come to her own conclusion.
‘Ayomuu was not so patient. “You may not trust us,” he said. “But we are here now, and you would be asking anyone who attempts to rescue you later to take a grave risk.”
“I understand the trade-off.” Petrov let her breath out, then turned to ‘Vadam. “You said it was ‘almost certainly’ a human drop. Why almost?”
“Because there were no UNSC vessels in orbit when we inserted in our Phantoms,” ‘Vadam replied. “But we have other reasons to believe they are present.”
Petrov’s brow rose. “What reasons?”
‘Vadam mimicked the gesture she had used earlier, wagging a finger between them. It was effective—he would remember to employ this in future interactions. “Before you started to run, you asked if the insertion was ours. How did you know the weapon would fire if it was not Sangheili?”
Petrov studied him for a moment, no doubt considering how much to reveal, then bit her lip and nodded. “Very well. The only insertion attempt the claw hasn’t destroyed is yours. I assume that’s because the warriors in the citadel are Sangheili, and they took for granted that your Phantoms would be friendly to them.”
“Which suggests they have some form of orbital surveillance,” ‘Ayomuu said, making a point of catching ‘Vadam’s eye. “How many insertion attempts has the claw stopped before today?”
“Two that we’ve seen. But there was one other rescue attempt, about a year after we were marooned—before our enemies found the citadel.”
“What happened to that one?” ‘Vadam asked.
“A prowler sneaked into orbit and made contact—we still had a functional rescue comm then. But there was no claw strike. It lost both Pelicans to the orbital mine shell you left behind—”
“It was not us,” ‘Vadam said. “We are no longer Covenant.”
“If you say so… no offense.” Petrov’s sharp tone did not suggest any contriteness. “Anyway, the prowler wasn’t prepared to clear a full mine shell, and the captain didn’t want to risk twenty lives trying to save eight. He promised a better-equipped mission would come back when it was feasible.”
“And it did?”
“Eventually. The next rescue attempt came a standard year after you—sorry, the Covenant—entered the citadel.”
“How long was that after the first rescue attempt failed?” ‘Vadam asked.
“Who knows?” Petrov showed her palms in a gesture that seemed to indicate helplessness. “Years, at least. We started to notice flashes above the clouds one night and realized someone was trying to punch through the orbital mine shell. We climbed up the mountain to set signal fires, then made as much electronic noise as we could.”
“With what?” ‘Ayomuu asked.
“We still had some functional low-power comm sets. Nothing with enough range for orbital communications, but the rescue ship must have been monitoring for surface traffic. On the third morning, the corvette Alpina made contact and promised a Pelican would collect us before the next evening.”
Petrov’s gaze drifted toward the dark roof of the cavern, then she seemed to regret her lapse of attention and returned her focus to ‘Vadam. Still, she remained silent.
“Clearly, that did not happen,” ‘Vadam prompted.
Petrov shook her head. “No. That was the first time we saw the claw strike. A blinding lance of light shot from the citadel, and we heard nothing more from the Alpina.”
When she fell back into silence, ‘Vadam prompted her again. “And that was when you knew you had to capture the citadel. For the next rescue to succeed, you had to control the claw.”
“Or at least prevent it from being used.” Petrov waved a hand toward her soldiers in the back of the cave. “We’re still working on that, as you can see.”
Before ‘Vadam could reply, ‘Ayomuu said, “A blinding lance. That is all you saw?”
“Well… we saw the portal open first.” Petrov’s brow furrowed in what appeared to be confusion. “But what do you expect? Even if Netherop wasn’t covered with clouds, it would take pretty sharp eyes to spot a corvette in orbit.”
‘Vadam saw the inconsistency and expected ‘Ayomuu to accuse the human of lying, but the Oath Warden was subtler than that:
“Earlier, you called the lance a claw because of its destructive power. If you cannot see it strike, how do you know it is a claw? How do you know it is ‘shredding,’ as you put it, instead of merely blasting?”
“Ah.” Petrov’s brow grew smooth again. “Because of what we find out there afterward.” She waved vaguely toward the crater. “Ship pieces. Like they were pulled down out of orbit.”
“You found them in the crater?” ‘Vadam was careful to restrain his helmet and hand movements so he did not betray his excitement at this key piece of intelligence. “Then it is safe to go out there?”
Petrov considered the question for a moment, then finally nodded. “After everything settles down. You wouldn’t want to be out there while the ground is still consolidating.”
‘Vadam’s excitement turned to alarm. The UNSC Owl was already landing on the tel as they spoke. But he and his company would have to cross the crater on foot—after they waited for the crater floor to become solid again. He glanced skyward, wondering whether he should call a pair of Phantoms down to simply fly them to the tel.
“Don’t bother,” Petrov said, guessing his thoughts. “The EMR storm is going to block comms for a while.”
‘Vadam did not need Petrov to explain what she meant. Any time a translocational portal opened, a brief cycle of tau radiation impacted unshielded instruments. Long-range sensor and comm equipment tended to be disrupted most severely.
“And even when it’s over,” Petrov continued, “your Sangheili friends inside the citadel might be second-guessing their decision to let your Phantoms land the first time. I’m not sure we want to see what happens when there are two claw strikes on the same day.”
‘Vadam knew Petrov was trying to plant doubts in his mind, and she was succeeding. To anyone inside the tel, it could easily appear that his three Phantoms had been advance reconnaissance for the larger drop that had followed. She was right about the second claw strike too. He had no interest in finding out what another reconciliation wave might do to the terrain between them and the tel—at least not until the ground stopped rolling from the first one.
“How long will it be before we can cross the crater?” ‘Vadam asked.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How honest you are,” Petrov said. “You said you have reasons to believe the drop was human. What are they?”
“Tell her only about the Owl,” ‘Ayomuu said in Sangheili. “If she knows we are both searching for the claw, she will do all she can to—”
“We are searching for the same thing the UNSC is,” ‘Vadam said, still speaking in English… and still to Petrov. “It may be the weapon in the citadel.”
“You have the brain of a colo,” ‘Ayomuu said in Sangheili. “Now she will never help us.”
‘Vadam ignored the insult and kept his attention focused on Petrov. “I apologize for the asides in Sangheili.” Taking the time to chastise ‘Ayomuu in the middle of his negotiations with Petrov would place ‘Vadam’s authority in greater doubt than the interruption itself. “The Oath Warden believes I am making a mistake.”
“Because he thinks I won’t help you against humans. He’s not wrong, you know.”
“Nor is he entirely correct,” ‘Vadam replied. “The humans want the weapon for the same reason we do—to neutralize a menace to both our civilizations. Naturally, I would feel more secure with the weapon in Sangheili possession, but it does not matter much who recovers it… as long as one of us does and it is used for the same purpose.”
Petrov’s brow shot up. “That’s not the argument I was expecting. And I’m not sure I believe it.”
“It is the truth, whether you believe it or not. And the argument you were expecting is also true. As long as the Covenant survivors control the citadel, you will never escape N’ba. We are your best hope of rescue.”
“Okay, you’re right. That’s the argument I was expecting. And it’s a good one.”
“Then you are willing to tell us when we can cross the crater? How long must we wait?”
“I’m willing to take you across when it’s safe.” Petrov’s gaze flickered toward the darkness above, then she quickly brought it back down to focus on ‘Vadam. “But I don’t trust you enough to tell you anything. I’m not letting you out of my sight until my soldiers and I are standing on the deck of a UNSC vessel, preparing to go home.”
